A Take Over - Writers Forum

Evanescence · 08-25-2005, 01:24 AM

I was just messing around with the narration with this piece, so excuse it if it becomes off putting and at times, just plain annoying. As ive said before, not exactly a profound writer but i try.

I am an agent. And I am about to be killed. He has a gun to my head and he will pull the trigger. I have been accused of high treason, which is not true as I do not serve this country and the only agency I have been with is the real-estate agency in north Queensland. I am indeed a real estate agent. These people have confused me with another person thus I have been wrongfully tagged as a threat, one to be terminated.
It is 12.43 in the morning. The air is humid and the smell of rotting gizzards is amidst in the atmosphere. This is not much of a holding cell being it is in fact an office inside what I think is a church, however I would not know as they have blindfolded me.
My hands are not bound however, nor are my feet the reason for this because they have no use; as all the bones in my feet and hands are broken, or at least I believe so after having them being beaten monotonously with a sledgehammer. “Don’t feel bad,” I whisper under a wet cough.
“I am not in any pain.”
Seriously. I can’t feel anything, even though both my feet and hands are horribly disfigured.
All I can feel is a warm tingly sensation circulating around the foot of my ankle and the ring of my wrist. It’s fairly comforting in a way, I rock my body to and fro in a somewhat halo of its pleasure and my ignorance; Levelling to and fro from the empty, certainly black pitch of the gun’s barrel held just above my head.
“Don’t feel bad God. I know you cannot help me,” I pray.
I understand that what happens on Earth happens and there is no prevention of such, I know you are not allowed to help me or tell me what is to happen next, how am I to die, whether my essence or not will be spilt across my captors feet; how quickly, when I will arrive to you, who will I meet: who I will leave behind.

I know such questions are only mine to infer and to discover.

Right.
About.

Now.

Laura: How did she die?
Doctor: Quickly. She was not shot strangely enough. A bold, heavy object was used. One blow to the left side of her head smack in the middle of her temple. Fatal internal bleeding a product.
Laura: Internal bleeding?
Doctor: Basically the blood inside her head refused to clot; thus trauma couldn’t be repaired, thus neurons died, controls ceased and therefore the body failed. It may have taken 30 seconds to a minute at the most
Laura: Who killed her? Do you know?
Doctor: When she was found, two patrolling soldiers found a flesh tattoo imprinted on her right hand. It is a symbol; a trade mark of the Ossia Rebellion, who have been terrorising local villages in Western Russia since after the Cold War. They are a bloodthirsty group. All psychopaths I am sure, they kill for no reason as they need none. Least we can be comforted knowing they are going to the twelfth level of hell when they die.
Laura: Why isn’t this rebellion stopped?
Doctor: Supposing the Government can’t catch them. Supposing the rebellion hides behind powerful shadows. Supposing the rebellion are too strong and intelligent to be captured by of our authority figures. Who knows, yet there is no doubt in anyone’s mind they need to be stopped no matter the cost. You know, sometimes life isn’t about living, it is about catching out the deceit in a lie then serving it justice. And in this case the rebellions one big lie.

Agent 1: The director will become terribly upset when he finds out that you are making your own personal case.
Laura: Those who killed my sister need to be captured and it is not just a matter of revenge it is a matter of security. How long before this rebellion expands and moves across Western Russia? They are a cancer they need to be removed as soon as they are realised.

Jim picked the dirt out of his nails with his hunting knife and then graphed the location of the rebellions leader. “The man responsible for the connection and funding of the rebellion is expected to be located inside this mansion on the outskirts of St Petersburg. If you could infiltrate the boundaries, gain access inside, there’s no limit to the damage you could cause not to mention the damage they could cause to you. I’d be careful.”

I don't actually know what's going to happen. It's all surreal to me, there are so many meanings, meanings all with different interpretations. Jim sat next to me, the knife lingering in his hands. he picked the dirt out of his nails with the point and then ran the edge of the knife against his skin, polishing the blade.
I looked around, holding my own hands. The cold was near unbearable. I expected shoddy insulation from a cheap motel. I coughed up some blood and spat it on the floor. Time was running out, for me at least.
Jim strapped the vest to my body and secured it with silver masking tape. I tied my mass of hair into a rough bun and threw it behind my back. Immobilised by the weight of the vest, Jim had to arm me himself. He placed the tower inside my vest and armed it. He connected various coloured wires then briefed me on what each one did, just in case i didn’t want to continue, even though I did.
Jim never under stood why I wanted to sacrifice myself for this operation, he never understood the importance of me doing so, the principle in the lesson in which I would violently teach these people.
"All this act will be recognised as is one death out of a billion others," Jim told me, as he zipped my vest up, belting the buckles, tying the knots.
"Those who can read between the lines of this act are the only ones who deserve to know the reason why I am to do this" I replied, turning around, meeting Jim as he stood up from the floor.
"Do you know why I am doing this?" I asked, birthing an icy stare.
"Yes, partially. You want revenge for what they did to your sister-" He replied, lowing his head in acknowledgment of my superiority.
"Yes, correct. As I said only those with the intelligence to look behind the obvious, will ever know the motivation for this attack."
"I just don’t want this to be in vain, I don’t want to loose you for nothing," Jim spoke, sitting back down, tying the remaining strings dangling frivolously from my corset.
He tied the final knot and then convulsed with sobs. I lowered myself to his level and kissed him lightly on the mouth, consoling him with the wisdom that I would meet him in heaven one day, just not today.
“Life isn’t about living,” I spoke, stoking the rough of his face, “Life is about finding the moment of truth in the greatest lie- and I have found my moment and I am serving it.”
Jim stood up and helped me off the floor, as the weight of the pack held me down; “Clarification is a beautiful thing,” he said kissing me again.

I could see Laura from the van. Who would have thought in less that ten minutes she would be serving the same fate as her sister and for what purpose? Killing one person will not help the situation. Why does she think that eliminating one variable will be the answer to this situation it never is.
She says she is doing this for a sense of relief; it is a little difficult to feel relief when you are dead isn’t it? I have had enough of trying to convince her that this mission is futile. God what am I doing? I am definitely going to be suspended.. Fired… jailed who knows, operations on the side are considerate particularly offensive to the Cooperation. People working my sector have done it before however they have gotten away with it. I wish I shared a mere fraction of their confidence then maybe I could leave this experience without suffering insomnia or a thousand brutal flashbacks.
My God.
I will not get away with this and I am not even the one committing the crime, seems even being associated gets you in deep water these days.
I think I will close my eyes and just feast my ears on the destruction of the explosion. I think I will just listen and learn.

Silence.

gohn67 · 08-25-2005, 01:43 PM

Hi Evanescence,
This was interesting and I like that you are experiementing with writing style, narration, and just trying things.

I like the message I got from this piece. Simple, but a good one, that revenge doesn't solve anything.

I found it intriguing that you did you use conjuctions(i hope that's the right word). What I mean is, you use "I am" instead of "I'm". I think you did that on purpose, but I'm not sure why.

Someone that use to post here, told me that writing the whole thing out like "I am" is good way to imitate a foriegn writer. Becuase they are not taught to write with conjunctions. And judging by your story, I think your charater is Russian. So were perhaps trying to make the writing seem more foriegn.

It is kind of awkward reading it like that. Sounds kind of robotic. But not annoying. I think it effects the voice of the narrater the most.

Quote:

The air is humid and the smell of rotting gizzards is amidst in the atmosphere.

Love this detail of rotting gizzatds. Definitely puts me there, where she is.

Quote:

at least I believe so after having them being beaten monotonously with a sledgehammer.

Jeez, that's harsh and painful.

Quote:

I can’t feel anything, even though both my feet and hands are horribly disfigured.

But she can't see though.

Evanescence · 08-26-2005, 03:19 AM

Hey,
Thanks for not grilling me. Its nice to be told not everything I write is clishe crap.

But she can't see though.

Lol and yeah even though two of her senses arent really in prime working order (touch and sight) she can still use common sense to infer the state of her hands and feet after being flogged with a sledge hammer and yes I admit that it was bit too extravagant of me to have used a sledge hammer as weapon of choice.