The Manipulators - Writers Forum

Fictionfreak · 12-14-2007, 11:45 PM

I wrote something similar to this about a year ago but stopped it short. But the idea has still stuck with me and I've decided to try it again.

The whole scifi twist has to do with the 4+ dimmensions: Lenght Width, Height, Time, etc. As to how I will incorporate them... you'll have to read.

I'm excited to get the story out, so I'm only posting the first bit of my first chapter, as I've already been revising this piece alone forever.

Hope you like...

-The freakiest of all Fictionfreaks

Fictionfreak · 12-14-2007, 11:50 PM

Chapter 1- Part 1.

An old, long expired paper mill cast intimidating shadows over the faint streetlights. City smog hung over the starless sky, encasing the moon like a prison. The wind was absent, blockaded by the many ivy infested buildings. If there was any sign of life that night, there was nothing to prove it. A single rat scurrying for food would have been as welcoming as a best friend. Pensyle Brook was dead… until a voice echoed softly from a great distance. It was a forbidding kind of scream. One to be expected in such a dodgy location, but it livened the atmosphere just the same.

“You bastards!” the voice rang again, alarmingly close. The sound of violent footsteps, and metal scraps being kicked aside had issued before three men and a teenage boy came into view.

The older males, dressed in tight black attire, had beefy arms that made it easy to carry their prisoner. Two of them placed a firm grip on each side of the boy, and carried him into the night, his legs flailed furiously. The other man traveled beside them in a hurried kind of walk.

“Let go!”

“Put me down!”

“Bastards!”

“I said-”

“Shut-up!” moaned one of the men irritably.

“Let me down!”

“Filthy bastards!”

They stopped. There was the sound of a gun clicking, and Ryan felt the cold steal press against his neck. A rough hand dug into his hair, pulling at it mercilessly.

“I said shut the hell up!” the man seethed, baring yellowed teeth. A powerful blow knocked Ryan to the ground. “Don't screw this up for yourself kid.”

He was hoisted back into the air, and again carried. Deeper they treaded through run down buildings and shadowy darkness, halting only upon reaching the stairs of an abandoned subway.

Then, with a moment of hesitation, the men carried him into the black abyss that stared back at them below. They tied his hands to a pillar, it was a wonder they could find it, and quickly retreated up the stairs. Ryan was left alone in the darkness… for what purpose? Fear trickled down his spine. Who else was down here?

As if on queue, a light zapped to life from above. Desperately, he used this to search for any signs of danger. The faint glow that emitted from the ceiling provided a bluish light that covered maybe thirty feet. He saw some old subway tracks, and a long forgotten ticket stand that boasted thick layers of dust. Ryan twisted his wrists uncomfortably which were bound by duct tape. The pillar dug into his spine with almost every position he could muster.

“I was expecting you.” someone said, stepping just within the dim light. Ryan's heart gave a leap. A man with graying hair limped closer, using a cane for support. He smiled in a manner that was too friendly.

“Today is a celebration of two, young Mr. Thompson.” he wheezed, stopping right before Ryan.

The man peered into Ryan’s face, as if he saw something beyond it, and his eyes began to water passionately. “I've waited so long... to finally meet you.”

Ryan was about to open his mouth, but the man continued. “Length, Height, Width, Time... the four proven dimensions.” he said dreamily. “Tell me, have you ever heard of a 5th dimension?”

Ryan only stared, seriously wondering if he would die tonight. Up until the presence of a frail old man, he heavily considered it. But now the future looked brighter. He wriggled his wrists free a little.

“The powers of the 5th dimension were discovered precisely 16 years ago,” the man answered. “The secret it holds, we can not be certain of until we study it. Which is a difficult task in itself, for any factual knowledge of the 5th dimension is hard to come about.”

He looked at Ryan again, sizing him up like a Christmas gift.

“Today marks the 16th anniversary of the 5th dimension’s proven existence.” his smile increased. “But our second celebration deals strictly with you.”

Ryan made a confused look, but didn't worry too much. His hands were almost free.

“Young Thompson, what day is it?”

“Friday,” he replied absentmindedly. Ryan wouldn’t have said anything if he wasn’t trying to distract the man’s attention from his wrists. Half of one hand was free.

The man looked amused, “of course… but today is also a special day.”

It took a minute or two of fumbling his wrist before he absorbed the content of the message. A slow realization sent a shiver ran down his spine, “it’s my birthday.”

“Precisely,” the elder beamed.

This week had already been weirder than hell, and because of that, it didn't take him much to consider the odd possibility. Another wave of shock ran through him. “You’re crazy old man! You think I have the 5th dimension?”

The man gave a small wink and put out a colorfully wrapped box. “Happy sweet sixteenth,” he then turned and limped away, leaving the present on the ground. He must have known that Ryan’s hands were nearly free. Before exiting, he made a swift hand motion, and a bench instantly began distorting by length. Growing shorter and longer until it looked nothing more than long lumber with metal handles.

“My name's Rupheous,” he stated with his back turned. “And I, like many others, house the uniqueness of the 3rd dimension.”

Five minutes probably passed in the lonely silence. Ryan was way over his head, he couldn’t take the pressure. He now wished the man would have beat him down, or got some more hit men to send a bullet to his gut. He would have loved anything but more confusion… within the past day or two, extraordinary events have generated so many questions for him already.

The eye-popping colors of the birthday gift caught his attention. No way in hell was he going to open it… probably just meant more headaches.

“Come back here and fight me like a man!” He screamed until he had no breath. Why was life so damn hard? Rubbing his temples vigorously, Ryan thought of the recent chain of events that brought him here in the first place.

***

Two days ago

Mr. Dobbs was a boring man with balding hair who dressed in a grey business suit. He welcomed his new class with a lecture on the division of polynomials. A lecture that died the moment it left his lips. “Algebra is a gift,” was all it took for him to say, and whatever respect that Ryan had for his math teacher crumbled at the mention of algebra and gift in the same sentence.

Ryan blinked wildly to stay focused. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, the words of Mr. Dobbs were sounding increasingly foreign, as if he was listening to a Spanish tutor without doing the homework. The teacher’s voice was soon no more than a faint buzz, and Ryan slipped further into dreamland. Tiredly he traced his eyes over every poster along the wall, every dirt stain on the floor, every head of every classmate, and eventually he rested his eyes on Liz Hanson.

Dark chocolate hair fell to her shoulders; shining with a silky smooth texture. Her back had the perfect curve, body had the perfect shape, and she probably had a perfect bra-size. Today however, something was wrong. She had a pale face that nodded weakly, as other girls whispered things to her.

“Ladies please pay attention!” barked the teacher and they all faced the front.

His lecture swept by fast, and what only seemed life five minutes, lasted twenty. Ryan felt as if he’d barely had a glimpse of her before Dobbs wrapped up. “…and now to conclude, girls focus!” he received significant amounts of eye rolling. “Your answer should look something like this,” the teacher pointed to an answer on the white-board. There was a long silence, a sea of eyes all gazing at him, before he snapped, “well? You know what to do!”

The last ten minutes was traditionally used to start on homework. Everyone cracked open their math books and flipped through the pages. Smells of new text books filed the air, while students began scratching with their pens. Mr. Dobbs sighed wearily, slumping into his leather chair and pulling out a mystery detective novel.

The last of summer tantalized Ryan when he caught sight of it out the window. Ryan saw the hot afternoon sun, the empty football field, maple trees swaying in the breeze, and he was stuck at his desk, a hopeless slave of Ridge-wood high.

Tearing his eyes away, he started on the practice assignment. That Spanish thing happened all over again. Ryan clenched his hair, willing with all his might for a little comprehension.

“Ryan,” said Mr. Dobbs.

“No Comprehende!!”

The teacher was a little taken a back, and the class sniggered. “Would you like help?”

Ryan shook his head and flushed. Idiot.

Liz was still occupied by her gossiping friends. There was a possibility she hadn’t noticed anything at all. A large slice of his pride felt like it was still intact. Ryan sighed. His homework still sat open on the desk. The clock above the doorway read 11:27. Almost lunch time!! Excitedly he combed his hair to one side of his face. Some metal supply cabinets served as a mirror. This was his salute of honor… some of his best memories were during lunch.

Before his drunken father died, life at home was about dealing with the violent old man. His mother was too weak to stand up on their behalf. For most of his life he’d lived in fear.

And Ryan had to admit, there were a lot of Mr. Dobbs out there. It didn’t matter what subject. Any one of his teachers could’ve lit a dozen fireworks and still been utterly boring. Ryan’s only time of actual freedom was during lunch. Returning home wasn’t so bad anymore though—

“Oww!,” a nasally voice made him jump.

Ryan saw that Mr. Dobbs was still buried in his book, and felt it safe to turn around. A girl with freaky glasses that magnified her pupils was at the mercy of Tom’s hair pulling fingers.

“Oh, come on,” Tom smirked, holding a pony tail in each hand. “Now you’re twice the fun!” There was laughter, mainly from the boys. Ryan swore that Liz had shown the smallest smile.

“SILENCE!” seethed Mr. Dobbs, but his voice was drowned out by the ringing of school bells.

Students all pulled out from their chairs and began sifting out the doors. Tom stopped by Ryan’s desk.

“I forgot we had this class together.” He smiled. They clasped hands, and Tom pulled him from his chair.

(to be continued)

Fictionfreak · 12-15-2007, 07:13 PM

Edited.

Wlynes · 12-17-2007, 12:39 AM

I enjoyed this read. Well written, characters interesting, plot- seems quite exceptional, though just chapter one. The concept of dimensions 4th and this newly discovered fifth leads me to wondering about the rest of your work. Well done.

I am new to this forum. Would you like to read my works? If so see Cody, Flustrated, and 606 University parts I and II

Fictionfreak · 12-17-2007, 09:17 PM

Thanks Wylnes, that was very uplifting

, and I'll be sure to look at your work.

Anywho, I've patched up the end of my previous post a little. And I've added the rest of chapter one. Something seems jarring about it to me, so if theres anything that strikes you odd about this following part just let me know.

--

Chapter 1 (second half)

The lunch room brought back memories from previous high school years. Its gymnasium style floor had red and blue curves on polished, white ceramic. The walls were glossy and red. Dozens of picnic tables that were made of material similar to the floor were organized in clear rows.

Hot lunch apparently lost its charm. Ryan forced cold, soggy French toast down his throat just so he could eat. The veggies were bland, rubbery, and slightly discolored so that Tom threw out everything but a milk carton.

He was eyeing Liz through half of their conversation until Tom turned around to discover the source of interest. His friend understood immediately.

“Man, just ask her out already!”

“It’s not that easy,”

“Course it is. Besides, I heard Liz and Matt had another row.”

Ryan looked up instantly, “explain."

Tom smiled. “Well, apparently Matt wants to take their relationship to the next level… if you catch my drift, and Liz is hesitating.”

“She has been acting very strange lately," he admitted.

“Yeah. Practically everyone knows about it already.”

Ryan could have kicked Tom for that, but refrained himself. Eventually, the few hundred students that ate at this period went onto their next classes.

None of his other classes included anyone he knew well. A few acquaintances popped out here and there, and they talked about their summers. But that was it, and before long, school was over. He gunned his rusty Saturn down the road, which bucked and sputtered horribly. It needed various repairs that he had no money for.

A brilliant orange and scarlet sky spread before him. It was depressing to know that the day was almost over. Two hours of homework already awaited him at home.

Some wet, brown leaf slapped onto the front window. A nice little reminder… fall meant winter. Ryan hated winter now that his sledding days were long over.

In a fit of depression, he had almost reached Washington Street when he saw something that made him do a double take. It was the sight of a park bench, a very distorted one. At least 12 feet high, and four feet long, the bizarre scene made him stop his car, roll down the dusty window, and stare. The seat was maybe 6 inches thick, and the handles on either side were much taller.

Chills surged down his spine. This bench was a normal bench at one time. He remembered sitting on it as a kid, remembered the single scar on one of its wooden legs, though it was a much longer gouge now. What in this world could’ve have done that? Ryan was stumped.

He got home pushing the pedal a little harder than usual. The following morning, his life would change completely.

Fictionfreak · 01-08-2008, 09:37 PM

Edited.

Fictionfreak · 01-21-2008, 09:53 PM

Chapter 2-

They were in a red convertible, cruising down the golden gate bridge. There was nothing but the window shield to keep the wind from lapping up her hair in a “movie-perfect” sense. While Tom drove, and with another buddy in the passenger seat, Ryan was left in the back with Liz. Her alarmingly perfect brown eyes were locked onto his.

“This is all for you baby,” he smiled. Orange tinted sunglasses rested on his face, and there was a twinkle in his teeth.

“Everything’s so… great,” she replied breathlessly.

They were now stretched out on a warm, white sandy beach. The ocean crashed in the distance, a setting sun was slowly dipping into the ocean, like a giant Oreo cookie. “Just soak it in, it’s your vacation,” his greedy eyes studied her perfect shape. “I’m just in for the sights.”

But it all fell short when the Kool-aid man popped out of the sand and screamed. “Oh-Yeah! Ryan wake up and smell the Kool-aid! Ryan… Ryan…”

“RYAN! Wake up!,” came an annoying voice. It was his mother. The sound of something frying in a pan caused him to roll to anther side, and the savory smell of bacon forced his eyes open. Mom was actually cooking?

Curiosity took over, and he quickly skipped downstairs after slipping into some jeans and a fresh t-shirt. What he saw as he rounded the corner, and stepped onto the cold kitchen tiles, was a dream come true. If only dreams did come true. He beamed, momentarily smelling the ocean salt of a California beach, before snapping back to his senses.

“What’s all this for?” He asked suspiciously.

“Just sit down and eat,” mother looked tired as always.

Bacon, neither too crisp nor stringy, lay on his plate. A warm, sunny-side up egg speckled with pepper, rested next to the bacon. And there was more, French toast with a choice of syrup or blueberry/strawberry toppings. From mom, this was fine-dining at its best. He was halfway through the meal when she explained everything in one powerful sentence.

“I got a new job.”

She said this with such pride in her eyes, as if she'd made some tremendous achievement. She looked as though expecting him to stand and applaud. Ryan instantly frowned, the breakfast was superb, but he’d lost his appetite. He turned from happy, to disappointed, to angry.

“Listen,” she said, as he pushed his plate away. “I didn’t get fired… not this time. I chose this new job.”

“Mom. This is number seven! Until you get a real job, it’s going to suck like all the others!!” Cold waves of bitterness leaked from his tongue. Irritation stabbed at him from all sides. He stood, unable to look at her pained expression.

“Wh-where are you going? Ryan stop!! I’m not done with you yet—” She called miserably before he slammed the front door. Ryan hadn’t even showered, but he had to get out.

It was still dark and a bit chilly like an early summer morning. He climbed into his baby, and looked upon the deadened stump of a weeping willow. As a child, when the tree was alive and flourishing, he would hide there with the old neighbor’s boy. Ryan could almost smell the fresh-cut grass, or hear the sawing sound of cicadas. Life was good back then... alive back then. Now, like the old willow, it was all dead. He blamed it on his father. Mike Thompson was a cold man who avoided his problems.

Ryan twisted his keys, but the engine sputtered and quit. He swore loudly… two years without his father; this morning he had acted just like the man. Ryan gassed his car again… it bucked and complained, but the Saturn eventually rattled to life. He pulled out.

What time was it? Today it was exceptionally early to be heading for school. He whipped out his cell, but instead of the time, he saw that he had a message waiting for him. Odd. It was sent ten minutes ago at 6:14 am. Nobody does that.

A moment later he found it to be Tom’s voice. “Hey buddy, I’m sorry I tried calling you so early. But- well actually I’m not. You see, I know how much she’s running through your mind these days. In fact, you probably just dreamt about her.” Ryan smiled, having a best friend was both a gift and an invasion of privacy,

“That’s why you absolutely need to hear me out dude!! Stop whatever weird thing your doing and please… just listen. We’re dealing with golden opportunity here. You see, I was hanging with the boys on Matt’s team, they say he’s planning something vile. He’s taking her to Spencer Park to talk things over, but talking is the last thing on his mind. They say if she hesitates… well he’s prepared to use force. That’s why you need to come and meet us there. Be the hero. Help us.”

What a joke. Ryan played the message over. Yes, this was definitely a Tom kind of thing. His humor tended to stretch from practical joke to the unusual and cruel. It was only yesterday when Ryan was informed of the struggles between Matt and Liz, and now Tom was using that to mess with him. With a loud sigh, he forced the possibilities of her endangerment aside.

Spencer Park was the last place he wanted to be anyway. It was the very location he spotted that bench. A series of goose bumps formed on his arm. Ryan was in no mood to see another abnormal sight and discover he’d been crazy his whole life.

As he strolled along, the Washington Street sign rolled past. This was the part where he would look away. Spencer Park would come out on his right. He sped faster, unashamed to make his illogical fear more obvious. Ryan eyed his speedometer, 15, 20, 25. He used one hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. Sweating? He was sweating now!! The meter kept going, 30, 35, 40. Way past the speed limit here. 50. 60.

Suddenly, he found himself slamming on his brakes, bringing the baby to a terrible screeching halt. His body lurched forward from the momentum, banging his chest into the steering wheel. BEEEEEEEEEEEEP. He remained pressed against the car horn in utter shock.

It took about a minute for him to come to his senses. He slapped himself twice. This must be a dream still, for what sprawled before him, dividing the road in half, was a large brown wall. Layered strips of chocolate colored wood covered this beast. Near the top, it slanted inward at an almost horizontal angle. In its middle was a very long, clear rectangle about four yards in length.

Ryan slapped himself again. It was odd enough to have a barricade of this proportion appear overnight, but he knew this was no wall, because it looked too much like a house. The layered wood was siding, the clear box was a window, and the slant was a roof. It looked as though somebody took a picture of a house from their computer and stretched it.

“Come on!” he urged himself. “Wake up—”

His phone rang.

“H-hello?”

“Chickened out yet?,” it was Tom.

“What are talking about?”

“You were going to meet me…”

“Dude! The park? You’re there?”

“Of course. You don’t trust a man of his word?”

“Not yours. L-look. You must have seen this bitch on your way there.”
“What?”

“Y-you haven’t seen it?”

“Are you feeling ok—”

Ryan hung up. He was on the verge of tears. This was not good, it meant he really was going crazy. But doctors say that nutty people never admit to being insane. So maybe he wasn’t. Either way, he convinced himself that it was all a dream, before heading in the direction of his best friend. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to Spencer Park.

Chapter 2 not completed.

If it feels rushed, tell me. Any suggetions would help. Thanks.