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Prolific Writer
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: A tall mountain, away from goats and peasants...
Gender: Male
Posts: 226
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Did I really write this? Eek...
I was looking through my My Documents folder to see if there were any abandoned stories or ideas that I could perhaps bring back to life, and I found this...the first story I ever wrote! And reading over it now, it kind of, uh, isn't quite as rivetingly epic and awesome as I remembered it...so, I guess it would be fun to share it here, for all of you guys to see...and I hope that my writing has improved since I wrote this... :-[
Prisoner (Chapters 1-3 posted here...I wrote something like 19 in the end! :O)
Chapter 1
Mark walked sluggishly into his kitchen. He pulled back his shirtsleeve and checked his watch. 12:00. Great, in a few hours, he would have to go to work, where he would sit in a cube for eight hours and do nothing. Well, at least it put bread on the table. Speaking of which...
Getting up from his stool, he shuffled over to the marble counter, where a loaf of Italian bread he had just purchased the day before was resting. Taking a knife from the wooden drawer to his left, he cut a piece of bread and wolfed it down. When he was done eating the bread, he got some milk from the fridge to wash it down.
The man put a cupped hand to his mouth and yawned. He looked at his watch again. 12:07. Mark knew he should go back upstairs and get some rest, but just couldn't. He had a feeling that he couldn't quite explain; it was like he was in extreme danger, which he knew was not true. All the doors were locked and his wife and daughter were asleep upstairs. Just like he should be.
Suddenly, Mark jumped. He had heard something at the front door. Quietly getting up, he took a the knife he had used to cut the bread and edged his way to the door, which he threw open and jumped in front of, prepared to strike at the intruder. But there was nobody there, just his dog Sparky.
Mark chuckled to himself, letting the dog in and putting the knife down "You should know there's nothing to worry about...you're 31, don't you know not to be afraid of the dark?"
Suddenly, he felt very tired and went up to bed. His wife turned over as he came in and mumbled sleepishly, "Mark...what were you doing?"
"Nothing...just having a late night snack."
Mark awoke. Glancing over at the clock, he saw that it was 3:00 AM. He tried to get up but couldn't. He tried again. He just couldn't do it, he couldn't move. Then, he realized it was light as day, even though it shouldn't be. He looked over at the windows, and although the shades were drawn, he could still see that a very bright light was on.
Panicking, he tried to tell something to his wife Marisa, but couldn't move his lips. Out of nowhere, a dark figure appeared and reached out a hand towards Mark...and everything went dark.
And as soon as it started, it was over, and Mark bolted up in his bed, in a cold sweat. He tried to remember what had happened, but the memory just slipped away. His wife turned over and asked him, "Bad dream hunny?"
"Yeah...just a dream."
Yes...it was just a dream. It had to be...
Chapter 2
"Ok Hun, have a good day at work!" Marisa shouted, waving to her husband as he got into his car.
A good day? As if that will ever happen...
Mark checked his bag quickly to make sure he had everything. His folder, some papers, laptop, phone. It was all there. Buckling up, he turned the key and his car's engine roared to life. As he accelerated, he looked forward, and after only a few minutes he slammed on the breaks.
He saw the dark figure from his dream last night, standing right there in the middle of the road. It wasn't doing anything, just standing. He looked, transfixed at the being for a few seconds before bending down and scrambling through his bag for his phone. But, when he looked back out at the street, nobody was there.
He puzzled over this for a few moments, before the sound of a car horn yanked him back to reality.
That's what you get for all those late nights Mark. he thought to himself.
After work, Mark decided to treat himself to a bite to eat at the local dinner. He told himself it was just to make up for a horrible day at work, but he knew it was really an attempt to shake the image of that horrible thing he had seen in the road that morning. He didn't know why he couldn't forget about it. Maybe it was too scary for him to forget, he didn't know.
Mark walked into the dinner and found a seat. After a half hour, he had his food and was eating it, while pondering the day’s events. When he was finished, he waited patiently for the waitress to come, and let his mind wander.
Oh crap...did I forget to bring my laptop? Now what will I do? I can't go back and if I need that thing for tonight...
A cold bony hand reached out in front of him. Mark jumped up, and looked up at an old waitress, who asked,
"You ok?..."
"Yes," Mark replied, embarrassed, ”Yes, I'm fine."
"Ok…well, the check will be right out sir."
Mark nodded, and turned his attention to the small TV that was on a table next to him. The channel was CNN, and nothing special seemed to be happening...it was just commercials. But, when it came back on, he wasn't prepared for what he heard,
"Today we are covering the brutal murder of Mark Hone," the reporter said.
This caught Mark's attention...that was him they were talking about. He turned up the volume and listened to more,
"Mark Hone, 31, was found dead today in the woods outside of his workplace. He was found by his co-worker, Lance Boson, in a shallow puddle. It is not yet clear as to what the cause of death is, but it seems as if he was strangled by..."
Mark didn't need to hear anymore. He put a few 20's on the table and got in his car, where he sat for hours, looking at himself in the mirror, wondering who he was.
Chapter 3
Marisa sat down at her kitchen table, with the two police officers that were there to interrogate her. They were wearing black suits, one with a red tie, and black hair, and the other with a yellow tie and a shaved head. Each held a notepad, but the one with the red tie carried a recording device, which he switched on as he began to ask questions.
"So, please tell me...do you know anyone who had a grudge against Mark? Any motive?" One of the men, who called himself Rob, inquired
"No, I don't think so...I mean, sure he disagreed with a few people, but I don't think anyone disliked him so much as to kill him.." Marisa answered, through her tears.
"I see...did your husband disappear for long periods of time, or act strangely in the weeks leading up to his murder?" Rob asked her.
"No...Well, actually, yes," She began, and the officer looked up from his notes as she said the last word, "For the past few nights, he hasn't been getting any sleep at all, and kept waking up in a cold sweat. But, that was just probably stress from work...right?"
"Yes...probably," The man in the yellow tie who hadn't talked yet said absently, jotting something down on his notepad, before getting up and saying, "Well, Mrs. Hone, we are done, and thank you for your cooperation, and are sorry for your husbands untimely death."
And with that, Rob clicked off the recording device and got up with his friend.
Marisa, alone now, had time to grieve for her husband, and think. Who did kill him? She was telling the truth when she said he had no enemies. Unless it was his boss, but they really don't hate each other THAT much do they? Well, I suppose that they'll find who...
Suddenly, the door flew open and Mark stepped in.
"Marisa, hunny!!!! It's me, Mark!!! I'm alive!!!"
But, Mark's wife didn't look up. She just sat there, crying. He went over to comfort her, but when he put his hand on her shoulder, she didn't look up. He tried to talk to her, do anything to get her attention, but couldn't. It was just too much for Mark, for his wife to ignore him now. He sat down on the floor, and buried his face in his hands, crying.
Then, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He expected to see his daughter, Rachel, come down, but instead, he saw the dark figure. Although it was entirely black, with no distinguishable features, he could tell it wasn't of this world, and it seemed to have a slightly bulbous head.
"You...YOU!!! You did this to me!,” Mark stuttered, unable to hide his emotions, yet unable to translate them into words ", ...ju-wh-CHANGE IT!!! MAKE IT BETTER!!!"
The thing didn't say anything, it just continued down the stairs slowly. Mark picked up a golf club from a corner, and charged at the thing, not sure what else to do. He swung hard, but when the golf club hit the creature’s head, it didn't move. The club was twisted by some mysterious force into a tight ball and flung across the room, before the dark figure finally stopped, and pulled out a small box, covered in the same anonymous darkness that the creature was covered in.
The creature pressed a few buttons, and a great boom and rumbling sound pierced the silence. It was as if a thousand jets were taking off right outside his house. The sound only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed like hours for Mark.
Finally, when the rumbling stopped, Mark looked around. The creature was gone. He was safe.
Walking over to the where the thing had been standing, he examined the floor. There was no evidence of its being there. No footprints, scorch marks, anything. Mark put aside his grief for a few moments, to puzzle over this. But, his thoughts were soon interrupted when a huge white explosion blew off the roof of his house.
As the dust settled, Mark saw hovering above his house a large, cigar shaped craft, with glistening windows and sparkling lights of all colors. It was a gleaming black mass, with a silver tip, and seemed to be emitting some field of static electricity around it.
But, Mark didn't have much time to marvel at this site, because a few moments later, a tentacle came out from the underbelly of the ship and grabbed him, bringing him up, higher, higher, screaming, into a hole. And as Mark entered the vessel, he blacked out again...
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Eat a kitten, save a cow!
Last edited by Smiling Hobo : 09-13-2007 at 11:00 AM.
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i write worse than that when i think im writing good ...
