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farefar
December 17th, 2012, 04:26 AM
Hello everyone today I wish to share a bit of a story I have been working on for about 5 years now. When I say 5 years I dont mean I spent a lot of time on it. I simply wrote down and edited different parts of the story based on the people I have met and experiences I shared with these individuals over the course of 5 years.

I will start you off with a short description of the story line thus far.

Adam is a young teen who has suffered, of what he has been told is schizophrenia, for the majority of his life. The reason for this diagnosis is the simple fact that the majority of people he sees on a daily basis stare at him. They watch his every move with a certain vigor. Adam soon learns that he might not be as crazy as he thinks he is. The story involves Adam falling in love with a girl named Evelyn but loses her in the chaos of the war torn nation he lives in. He ends up meeting a rebel by the name of Maryland who helps him try to find Evelyn and his purpose in this new world.

Well then shall we dive in?
(please keep in mind that I have not edited this piece for grammar and many portions have not been added yet)

As always please enjoy!

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Why is it that whenever we get a flash of life outside the womb of structured society we don’t cringe but pity. What good is pity at the end of the day. We feel sad, then move on to the next 3 course meal. This world doesn't believe in coincidences or chance. However risk is something that this world will never be short of. Everyday I step out of my door I am rolling the dice. And although my chances of sleeping in my insulated house again tonight are high I cant help but think what will become of the world if I were to die.


They watch me. Everyday. Everywhere. The only place I am safe is in my home.
“Adam were going to be late!”
“If your not going to listen to me at least listen to a machine will you?”
The deep voice of the undeniable Johnny Cash soothed me into yet another day in a paranoid world.
Funny. Paranoid. Its ironic that I find it that word on my mind. Before I was 10 my mother called it another “fiction of my imagination”. Just another one of my imaginary friends she said. Her friends called it cute. The kids at cool called it crazy. For me it was my living nightmare.
“And how are we doing today Adam?”
No matter what position I choose this chair will never be comfortable.
A simple grunt and I now realized I was in Dr. Rumdolfs office once more. Just one more person trying to “help” my paranoia. As if the pills weren't already doing enough. As if the fact that I would die of a side effect wasn't enough to keep any sane man paranoid.
“ The same as usual doc.”
“ I see, do you feel the same” He adjusts his position. He always adjusts something after he talks. It’s a routine. Mustache right leg, beard, left leg, clip board, cup,rinse and repeat.
“If you are asking about the 4 people I have seen staring at me on my way to see you, then yes, I feel the same”
“Were just going to have to try doubling the dose Ms. Smith”
Smith? Really. After centuries of family names I am stuck with Smith. I must be related to at least half of the nation.
“Is that safe? This is the third time you've raised his dose!”
Sitting me outside this room doesn't prevent me from hearing the conversation. I guess a closed door means you can hear from outside, we just don’t want you to see us talking about your livelihood.
“ It should be fine, hes a strong lad and he could use it.”
Funny seeing as pills generally work better when you don’t spit them out once your mother leaves.
“He doesn't even feel a change! He is always looking over his shoulder and dressing like hes 2 times his size!”
“ Trust me Ms. Smith, there aren't many other options. If this continues he might end up becoming institutionalized at the age of 21.”
Institutionalized. Jail. The only difference is your so jacked up on depressants you could care less if you were.
“ Well I hope this medication starts working, he ditches school half the time just to be alone”
Why would I want to be watched all day. Like at any moment I might make the CNN headlines. I cant remember a time I didn’t get on a bus without someone sitting right behind me staring into the depths of my skull.
As we left the building I was overcome with a sense of relief. It has always been that way. Ive spent half of my childhood in the abysmal building.
The smell of Febreeze and stale cigarettes was getting to me already. One more stop at the public pharmacy and I would be free to hide behind the closed doors of my house.
“ Im dropping you off at school, and would you PLEASE actually stay there? The police said the next time you ditch wont be the most happy affair in your life.”
“Mom. Ill believe that when you can tell me of a happy moment in my life”
The soft whine of the electric engine passed as my mother drove away.
Another day avoiding glares. What made me so different. Was it because of the imaginary people that have been staring at me since I can remember?
Pointless. Im too tired to walk today anyway. I picked up my bag and headed to class.
“ It seems you’ve chosen to join us today Mr. Smith”
“You let me know when I've become a secret agent so you can continue calling me that Ms. Baxley”
“If you don’t have an apple and all expense paid trip to Hawaii for me hidden in those sagging pants Mr. Smith I suggest you take a seat.
I sat down in the back, as usual, it was interesting in the sense that I had only realized right then and there that what I was looking at ws the backs of people and none of them could stare at me.
Eyes are disgusting. They stare, they watch, they never leave you to yourself.
“So our President is entering his 50th year of presidency”
“Fuck the president” I said it meaning for it to be to myself but it slipped out to the class.
Deeper explanation of mystery surrounding militarized govt.
Personal conflict with Ruler
Needs witty soap box reference
“EXCUSE ME MR.SMITH?”
“Nothing”
“you had better watch it Mr. Smith or youll end up in jail a lot sooner than expected”


Who ever looked forward to a high school diploma?
Its just a piece of paper saying you spent maybe a month of actual study.
You forget it all.
The only memories that stick with us are the experiences and interactions that build our lives.
No one remembers a love story better than a person who felt it.


C.2


I hate food courts. At least walking around the mall I don’t have to make eye contact for more than 3 seconds.
But I didn't pick this spot. It was her. Her. The only person who could ever keep me looking. The only eyes I could ever feel.
“I can see your not the type of guy to keep a girl waiting to long!”
“Well I got caught up on my way here but I tried to rush.”
“oh stop it, its like you know when im here you show up seconds after I get here”


For the past 4 months I have met her in the same 2 seats in the food court.
Its strange. I never sit anywhere but the back. But with her I don’t notice my surroundings. I don’t notice the 125 people surrounding us. The same 11 people that walk by us 3 times before taking a seat.
All I see is what she sees. The eyes of a misunderstood. An outcast.


I met Evelyn on a bus. The only bus I catch. She was the only person on the bus that day that didn’t stare. She simply noticed. Noticed another human. I wasn’t the main attraction to her. I was just the eyes in front of a damaged mind. It didn’t matter how long we sat. Time doesn't exist to me it exists to the people who count. I don’t count. Simply wait. And with her it isn't waiting its simply bliss. Emotions are what count down the timer on my heart. The stares wear me down and hers soothe me.
The original plan 4 months ago was to shop around the mall. But as soon as we started talking that day in the mall we simply never stopped. If anyone was counting we never left until we were forced. And that plan B has never changed. Every day. 4 o’clock. Never late. Never.
“So why haven't you taken me anywhere else Adam?”
“You take me everywhere I need to go as soon as you arrive, Im exactly where I need to be right now”
“I don’t know what im going to do with you”
LOVE ELEMENT
Life story?
Deeper element of pain?
Dreams?
Etc


“Ill see you next time Adam, You should try the fashionably late thing. I cant seem to worry for more than a few seconds before you show up”
My cheek felt 20 degrees hotter as her lips left my cheek.
“I…Ill uh see you later”
I couldn't contain the wide toothy grin.
The walk home was the only time I was truly alone. No one took the road I took. It was 10 miles longer than any other. 10 miles to myself through the dead soils on the eastern side of the suburbs I lived in. Sometimes I feel like the 10 miles go by too fast. I analyze every rock. Knowing it will be in the same spot everyday. The same bent stop sign. The stop sign always caught my eye. It was bent over backwards with the stop facing up. The way it resembled a human staring up into space hopelessly lost always struck a cord with me.
Home
Mother finds pills not taken
Conflict with mother
Resolution
Sleep
Today was different. Right out of bed it wasn't the same. Right down to the way I saw myself in the mirror. The food tasted sharper. The words of my mother were sharp in my mind. Her touch was precise to my mind.
My things collected I left. The road. The rocks had moved. The rain? Its bone dry on the road. Everything changed.
I've heard the phrase used before but now it was perfect. Fish out of water. No. A fish with no water in his own bowl.
Trip to bus.
It wasn't until the next day before I realized the meaning of greatness. For some reason people associate greatness with goodness. However someone doesn't need to be good to be great. Dictators achieved greatness simply by creating an event that changed the motion of a whole world. The greatest bloodshed gave birth to the most beautiful roses.
I've only met my grandfather once in my life. He took me out hunting.
“You know I spent 10 years of my life in these woods. Half of them on my farm and the other half in war.”
I had always known from my mothers stories that my grandfather was a great war veteran. He was renown for turning the tide of the battle when all 59 of his squad members were killed.
We looked out over a field of daises.
“Jimmy, Von, Dave, Sal, John. They all lie in front of us. Somewhere in the dirt”
“Ill let you in on a little secret son. There is no glory in battle.”
“ Ive killed men who were already bleeding out, men whos families would never know where their father went, where their husbands went, where there sons went.”
“However I know where they are.”
“They are here. Always here. 10 paces north east from that tree I put 5 rounds into the back of a man with blonde hair.”
“23 paces east from that point I put a knife into a mans gut.”
“I can point out all the 73 men I killed right now for you”
“I was showered in glory but none of it stuck for me. Every time I hear my name it sounds foreign, like a long lost secret.”
“I lost my true self on this forest”
“and to this day I hope to find myself”
My grandfather dropped to one knee and took aim
“However all I will ever find are the bloodied bodies and faces lying among the 732 empty shells I fired that day”
The sound of a single round let loose echoed in the forest as a deer dropped 100 feet away.


Chapter ___
I got on the one way bus. Funny, one way bus, I doubt anyone would use that phrase. However I just knew I would not be returning on that bus ever again.
They stare still. Harder than ever. I was panicking. CALM DOWN.
Why are they staring so hard? What is so special about this moment.
“You realize you aren't crazy right?”
“W-what?”
“what did you just say”
“I said you aren't crazy”
Who was this man. He had a suit on yet I had no trust for him. A suit usually means someone respectable. However this man was anything but that. I felt utterly sure that he was staring harder than the others. I did not even notice when he sat down next to me
His hair was silver white yet his skin was smooth as a new born baby.
“ Are you teasing my paranoia? And how do you even know I am paranoid”
“Haha oh Adam the things I know would amaze you”
“But you do know they actually are staring at you”
“You can see them staring?”
“why of course my young Adam”
“why do they stare, why have they stared my whole life”
“I don’t have much time Adam so ill make this simple.”
“If you were from a future where you could travel back into time what would you do”
“I don’t know what kind of question is that”
He smiled as the bus came to its next stop. He grabbed his bag and stood up
“You would watch the most famous people grow up and achive greatness”
He turned and got off the bus.
I was shell shocked. What the was he talking about?
Was this man as sane as me? Or just as insane.
Whatever I was going to think after that point didn’t matter
Because as of 4 seconds ago the half of the bus I was in was now flipping in mid air and I had a piece of shrapnel stuck in my thigh.
And after that darkness.




My head. Such throbbing. Where was I. Who am I.
Gun fire. Smoke. Blood.
I grabbed at my body. My leg wasn’t bleeding but it was wrapped in some kind of bandage.
It was dark all around. However the dimly lit room in the apartment above allowed for a little information to be gathered. I was in an alley. The smell of blood only masked by the dumpster near by. Distant screams rang through my ears.
I slowly rose. Steadied myself. I need to get away from here. But where? Who is fighting. Am I a solider?
I looked down and checked my pockets. A bank slip for 1,000 dollars, 2 broken cigarettes, a torn note.
The note read
e you.
E Tilldert Lane
I had no idea where to go. Did I have a home?
“Limping around in a war isnt exactly an einstein idea”
I had to strain my eyes to see in the dark but her voice were the drive to my eyes. She was sleek and her hair flew past her shoulders.
“Who are you” My voice was weak and my words sloppy. I still couldn't feel most things.
“Haha that’s the morphine still kicking.” “My names Maryland you can thank me for saving you later.”
Now closer I could see her eyes. Green. Pure green. I loved her eyes.
“Well now that you're up Adam we can figure out your story”
“My name is Adam? How do you know that”
“You don’t know your own name?”
“I don’t know anything about myself or you”
“Wow well now that’s something isn't it, I can tell you we were riding the same bus when it got hit by a stray shell from the war”
“Wait that still doesn't explain how you know my name”
“ You'd be surprised what you can learn from a persons wallet besides the amount of cash they carry around”
She smiled and handed me an ID card.
It was me.
Adam Istaligus
165 lbs
5’10’’
“Well what war are you talking about?”
She frowned as if dissappointed at my lack of knowledge
“You really don’t remember anything about your life huh” “Well it’s the war between the people and The President”
“The President?”
She seemed serious now
“ Hes been in power for over 32 years now, we havent seen his face on anything but posters for the past 12”
“Well what has he done that’s been so terrible”
“Its not so much him Adam but the whole system”
“The world we live in is now run by money.”
“We live in a society built on Capitialism, anything can become a product”
“Imagine if one man, one entity, paid you to make product just so you could go home and buy that same product for more than you were paid to make it”
“Everything you need to survive is controlled by this entity”
“The corporations decide everything from what you eat to where you shit it out”
“If you want to remain a part of the society you have to go become educated to work for these corporations or die”
“All the money is controlled by few and trickled down to the masses so they might live one more day.”
“Even your medicine, the medical care you pay for with what money you can muster”
“People go to hospitals dying and get sent away or charged such an exorbitant fee that they inevitably die in debt or blood”
"That or you can join the military and leave behind a nice national flag for your family to put on the mantle piece"
For some reason at that moment I vaguely remembered a woman sitting on a couch huddled over a folded flag crying as I watched from the staircase.
“Its gotten to a point recently where we cant afford to sit around anymore”
“It was the riots first”
She sat down sat down slowly as if her young body was already aged with the stress of a few lifetimes.
I followed suit as she continued to inform me of the world I live in.
“Its funny how a government can turn its military on the same people who fund it.”
“Hundrededs died at first, then came the blackouts”
“They cut all sources of communication.”
“Phones, internet, and television”
“The plan was to stop all forms of news spreading”
“Pirate radio stations popped up like wildfire”
“The government quickly traced the locations and eliminated them”
“However the people began resisting and formed The Silence”
“It’s a resistance group anonymous by follower, leaderless but single minded”
“It seems we fight for the air we breathe these days”
“So youre a part of this Silence?”
“Haha something like that Adam”
“So what do we do now Mary”
“Well you tell me Adam I am not from these parts I was just visiting”
“Well lets go to my house and find out more about me”
“Are you sure youre ok to walk you went through a rough time there”
“Lets just get the hell out of here”


Chapter ____
2169 E Tundist Lane.
My house? My home?
Who knew but it was on my ID so it had to have been mine at some point.
The whole street was like a picture from a post apocalyptic world.
My house was the only one that looked partialy intact. The east side of the whole house was missing. Blown off by the looks of it.
“Looks like you're one of the lucky ones”
“Like I could remember any stroke of luck I ever had”
I looked around the front porch.
“I used to make lemonade with my mother here”
How did I know that. Who was my mother. I couldn’t even remember my mothers face yet looking at the porch I remember the chilled lemonade on my tounge.
“Well then lets see how nicely your sheltered life is holding up”
Through the front door nothing looked familiar.
It was strange how cold the house seemed.
As if all life had been erased. Looking around I saw pictures of myself. Pictures as a child. Pictures at prom.
“HELLO!”
My voice echoed out through the house. The sound waves searching for receptive ears.
All I heard in response was the cold draft seeping through the open windows.
“Because that works every time in the movies”
I must have given her the most sarcastic look I could muster.
She laughed and I started walking upstairs
4 doors. My hand grazed a gash in the wood on the hand rail.
“We broke my first bed”
“What?”
“My dad was bringing up my first full sized bed when he slipped and dropped the whole bed down the stairs”
“And you just remembered that?”
“Yes”
“You are definitely the most interesting person I’ve rescued from a bus”
We continued up to the second floor where we found rooms of a life that was now behind me.
I stopped in front of the last door at the end of the hallway.
The door was closed.
I turned the worn knob and the door slowly creaked open.
It was my mothers room .


We cautiously walked in as if the whole house might collapse from the sight we beheld.
On the bed was my mother.
The roof had been torn off of her room and the open sky lay abover her.
Her left side torn and bloodied. She was riddled wth shrapnel. I gazed down on her face from the bed side.
I spoke softly
"My mother never would speak of my father, she always left the room whenever I mentioned him."
"They always tell you that looking upon the dead helps you find peace"
"I can see my mother now, helpless and alone half dead staring up into the sky wondering where her son was, where her husband was"
Abandoned by those you love. No fate could be worse
I stormed out of the room disgusted with meself.
I walkd to the shattered remains of the garage and dug through until I found the necessary equipment.
Mary followed me though I hardly noticed
"Should I be more concerned that a gas can survived the bombardment in one piece or with the fact that you also have matches"
"You can leave if you wish thank you for your help"
"I would run to the store for some groceries but I fear that might not be possible, Ill stick it out with you for a little longer"
"wait here"
I walked up the stairs slowly letting my free hand run across the banister and the walls on the second floor. I could feel the laughter that once echoed through the bones of this house. I reached my mothers room looking at her face one last time
I ran my hands down her face and whispered softly
"we never abandon the ones we love mother"
I slowly close her eyes
"listen, I am still with you."
"I will always love you"
I emptied the gas can around the bed making sure not to disturb my mothers sleep.
I lit a single match
I watched closely as the flame slowly consumed the stick
As the match left my hand I thought to myself how my mother used to shield me from the flame. From the dangers and sadness of the world.
I left the house not looking back not thinking of where I might go next. I could feel the darkness wrap around me, swallowing me whole as the sun set.
Mary was on my left.
"Everyone dies Adam, we are not gods"
I looked into her green eyes.
"I wish I never left her side"
"She got you this far, now its up to you"
Whats left but to say goodbye to such a cruel existence.

popsprocket
December 17th, 2012, 05:20 AM
There are a large number of typos going on in here. Everything from legitimate misspellings, to failing to properly use apostrophes in contractions. To be honest it put me off reading and I didn't read past the first chapter.

The really big problem you have though is that I don't think there's a single comma in this whole piece. Commas can be a dangerous tool in the hands of people who don't know how to use them, but they're essential to writing in English. Well-used commas break up sentences and can clarify exactly what is happening, to whom someone is speaking, form lists, and a whole myriad of other tasks. Unfortunately I can't give you the 25-words-or-less version of how to use a comma so I suggest you look up a few comma 101 writing guides through google and then try and incorporate them in your work. You would be surprised at how much easier this would be to read with appropriate punctuation.

Also, there is a hell of a lot of dialogue. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, more like a faux pas, but it means that the reader knows almost nothing of what else is happening in a scene. It would make sense if this were a script, but when you're writing a novel you need to give the readers something to relate to, something to get a grip on. Describing a scene and what characters are doing and feeling during that scene is all important if you want your writing to come to life instead of just being a string of hard-to-follow dialogue where no one can tell who is saying what. Take a look at the works of your favourite authors and see how they use dialogue and exposition in their writing if you're in need of guidance.

farefar
December 17th, 2012, 05:41 AM
There are a large number of typos going on in here. Everything from legitimate misspellings, to failing to properly use apostrophes in contractions. To be honest it put me off reading and I didn't read past the first chapter.

The really big problem you have though is that I don't think there's a single comma in this whole piece. Commas can be a dangerous tool in the hands of people who don't know how to use them, but they're essential to writing in English. Well-used commas break up sentences and can clarify exactly what is happening, to whom someone is speaking, form lists, and a whole myriad of other tasks. Unfortunately I can't give you the 25-words-or-less version of how to use a comma so I suggest you look up a few comma 101 writing guides through google and then try and incorporate them in your work. You would be surprised at how much easier this would be to read with appropriate punctuation.

Also, there is a hell of a lot of dialogue. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, more like a faux pas, but it means that the reader knows almost nothing of what else is happening in a scene. It would make sense if this were a script, but when you're writing a novel you need to give the readers something to relate to, something to get a grip on. Describing a scene and what characters are doing and feeling during that scene is all important if you want your writing to come to life instead of just being a string of hard-to-follow dialogue where no one can tell who is saying what. Take a look at the works of your favourite authors and see how they use dialogue and exposition in their writing if you're in need of guidance.

I completely understand where you are coming from. However this is no where near being close to a draft. It is simply setting the mood for what I want to add in later. I have not taken the time to go over and grammatically correct myself. So as of now it is sloppy as far as English goes however this is more of a personal work and I wont be trying to get it published. As soon as I feel like I have the actual story down I will add in the filling descriptions. I wouldn't like you to view this as anything close to a finished product. Read it more as the bare bones of a story.