Dookie

This is in progress. This is the first draft of around one third of a story. Haven't written for a while but this idea just seemed funny if not slightly depressing and so I thought it ought to be written. It really isn't what it seems at first, so read on.

The horrific roar of anger rattled the trees as the attacking horde charged. The fellowship let out their own impromptu war cry as they drew weapons and clashed against their enemies. Martin swung his sword round, throwing his entire weight forward as he did so and impaled an orc. He drew a knife from his belt and slashed another’s neck and laughed as it fell into a heap.

“Two already!” He screamed eagerly, looking around for Legolas and Gimli.
“Two what?”
“Two what!” Martin glanced around, searching for his friends in the fight, “what do you think I mean?”
“I don’t know, two what?”

The voice was unfamiliar. Frowning in consternation Martin retreated from battle, searching wildly for the voice. Invisible foes? He swung his sword in every direction. There was nothing.

“Two what?”
Where had it come from? His friends needed him, was he going insane?
“Two kills!”
“Two kills?”

Martin twisted in time to see an orc’s sword swing toward him, too late to do anything about it. An inch from his neck.
“Martin!”

Martin sat forward in the chair and the leather groaned appreciatively. In front of Martin stood a desk and beyond that sat an impatient looking man, bald but for a few stray hairs which had been swept to one side. His name was Mr Farthing. A dull and cloudy day could be seen out of the window behind him.

“Listen to me for once Martin. Just once!
“You’re a loser and it’s because of your stupid day dreams! You were only here as a favour for your father but now he’s dead and you-are-fired!”
“My father?”
“Your father. He’s dead and so I have no bind to you. You’re a useless sod and you can bugger off. Good luck finding another job too.”
“A new job?” Martin was upset. “Can’t I have another chance Mr Farthing? I think I’m getting better at…”
“Selling houses Martin, and you’re getting worse.”
“Please?”
“Your day dreams are freaking out the staff and losing me money. Just go.”
“Sir-”
“Martin!”

Martin stood up and his baggy suit jacket drooped around his bony frame. He coughed once, turned, then left the room for the last time. He left his ex-place-of-work and returned home.

Whilst walking home Martin hadn’t noticed the car as it screeched to a halt inches away from him. He hadn’t noticed the house on fire down the road and he certainly hadn’t noticed that his front door was ajar. He hadn’t been robbed, oh no, he just hadn’t locked it that morning. In fact, his eyes had been glazed for that long walk and they had been glazed for most of the day. They had been glazed for most of his life. However, they unglazed as Martin placed The Lord of the Rings in his dvd player.

“Peter…Jackson,” Martin whispered to himself as he looked at the box. He wasn’t really looking though.

As the film played, the day crept away, allowing the night to slither in. Martin didn’t move a muscle throughout the time it ran. His right hand sat on a copy of Tolkien’s book, The Fellowship of the Ring. Martin’s eyes were red and bloodshot. He hadn’t blinked since the film started. As it came to an end Frodo and Sam were running through a forest and Merry and Pippin were being carried off by a herd of hungry orcs. The credits began to roll down the screen. So slowly, so slowly.

Martin’s index finger flinched as it perched on his copy of the book. Slowly, he blinked and crust fell away from his eyes. A solitary tear ran down his cheek as he tilted his head forward. A sob broke out across the darkened living room.

“Be brave…” Martin spoke to his chest as he began to sob violently.
His muscles tightened and twisted.
“No!” He screamed, tossing his book across the room and grabbing up a lamp from a table. He swung his sword around, spinning so as to take in how many orcs now surrounded him. The sun beat down upon the clearing, showing him that he was heavily outnumbered. The orcs roared and growled as they encircled him.

“Merry! Pippin!” He called hopelessly. “You won’t take them!”

Martin lunged out and stabbed one of the enemy. He swung his sword in every direction, clashing with his mighty foes and he watched them drop. He was victorious. One orc remained, framed against a ruined stone archway. It spoke.
“Mr Banks?”

An old lady stood holding a torch in the doorway of the darkened living room.
“Mr Banks what’s going on?”

She shone the torch around the room which was littered with broken items. The TV was smashed. Martin looked down at his bruised and bloodied hands which were clenched tightly around the lamp.

“Did somebody break in?” The old lady asked.
“No Mrs McEwan, I just had a fall.”

Martin caught sight of something lying in the darkness and gasped, fresh tears seeped out across his pale skin. He fell to his knees with a thud and placed down his sword beside him. With his aching hands he reached out and picked up The Fellowship of the Ring and held it to his chest, closing his eyes in pleasure. A cold smile slowly turned the corners of his mouth upwards.

“My…precious.”
“What was that Mr Banks?”
Mrs McEwan took a step forward and shone her torch down at Martin, straining her old eyes to see what he held in his hands.
“Tolkien?”

Martin placed the book gently on the floor amongst the broken pieces of ornaments. His right hand closed tightly around the lamp and he stood up again. Mrs McEwan shone her torch into his face, illuminating it in a horrific manner. His eyes were glazed.

“Yes Mrs McEwan. Are you a fan?”

Martin jabbed out and killed the last orc, but only, he found his sword had become blunt during the fight and he had to stab many, many times.

lilacstarflower

This was funny - don't know if you were intending humor, but the idea of of guy in a business suit fighting imaginary orcs made me laugh.

I thought this was a good short story, especially the ending.

Problems I spotted:

"he hadn't been robbed...locked it in that morning" - I re-read this a few times wondering what exactly had been locked in. When I got near the end I figured it was the book. Not sure if I guessed correctly, but maybe some more clues here would help.

"the day crept away and the night clambered forth" - if the day crept away it implies it was slow to demise which contrasts greatly with night clambering in. I like the idea but think this needs something else like "the day crept away allowing the night to slither in; once it did it clambered forth and took hold with no remorse" - ok, bad example but hopefully you get what I mean

good work!

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Shadow Reeves

i like it.
it is different and i really had no idea how it would end....just another editing issue

"He left his ex-place-of-work for the last time and returned home. " although this is ok, it feels over ephansised and i think it only needs 1 negative, either being ex place of work, or for the last time (some may disagree, but this is my feelings)

Dookie

Hey thanks for the responses!

Lilacstarflower thanks for pointing out that mistake. "he hadn't been robbed...locked it in that morning". You have however misunderstood, the mistake is simply a typo. Remove the "in" from the sentence and it becomes obvious that I was merely elaborating further on the door itself; nothing within the house.

Also, you understood completely what I was trying to get across with the night and day thing and your suggestion captures perfectly what I was trying to convey so I think I'll use it or something very similar.

Shadow Reeves, strange you should mention that. It was actually something I sat thinking about for a while but came to no real decision. I will however remove one of the negatives. You were right, the sentence was overloaded and didn't flow so well.

Thanks, keep them coming.

kidstaple

Wow. I dug it. Good imagery and imagination. I think you captured the essence of a lot of Tolkien Fanatics, who were Fanatics before and after the movies. Awesome. Can't wait to see the read the rest of it.

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Roxane

this is very grasping!