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The Allegory of Riley (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
I have a portfolio of work that I have written over the past year but there has been a story that has been circulating within my mind for at least 5 years now. I don't want to give much away but you could say its a strange mix between "What Dreams May Come", a hint of Inkheart and childhood memories. I've been told I'm pretty abstract in the way I write and that I am too wordy. I don't try to do that, i just want to be as captivating as possible and I just feel that simple words don't do the imagery justice. Below is the preface or beginning of a set of episodes I plan on writing in next 8-10 months. I want to make the stream of consciousness as well written as possible without taking away from my signature. I don't prepare or outline, I just write as I think of it, so I know it's going to be raw. I appreciate any critique, complement and information any of you could provide. I can deal with ego mongers and KIAS (Know it all syndrome) so don't shy away. Everything is taken with a grain of salt anyways :)

"Coleridge and Chalk"

My fingers tense under the frustrated weight I was placing on the small piece of chalk. My internal clock is going crazy as I push myself to release every ounce of information onto the brick wall. Someone could see this passing by and that will probably be my only chance, so here it goes. At nine fifteen exactly, I turn the corner of Parsons and Coleridge where I’ll run into the same man reading a newspaper from November 17th, 1998. After I apologize for my carelessness, the emotionless man stares at me as if he was peering into my soul, looking for something other than atonement. Like before, I become flustered by this and cross a busy street to Victory to reach an unknown destination. While walking down Victory, I will begin to forget what I am doing and why I am walking in thirty eight degree weather at nine fifteen in the morning. This is where it becomes troubling, because that situation is as far as I have gotten in four hundred and sixteen days. It is a rough estimate since I didn’t start counting right away, so it could be longer than that. After the first couple of walks, I didn’t notice a difference in the surroundings of my city prison but it began to dawn on me as each day ended the in the same fashion. It was exactly thirty eight degrees without discrepancy, I seemingly wake up while walking at nine fifteen every day and I don’t feel as if I have aged, even a millisecond. The people never change; the setting never changes, as if I am cursed to relive some portion of my life for eternity. I am trapped and I have no idea why. With all of this, I know that I am still alive, or at least I tell myself out of hope. Today was the first in this existence that I cried out of fear that I’ll never leave this place. I don’t know anyone here and I’m scared. I haven’t seen my mother or father and I’m starting to forget what they look like. So at nine thirty without alteration, I end up standing here staring at this wall waiting for the darkness to engulf me.

I can feel it breathing down my neck as I press the chalk into the brick wall, I only have a couple seconds left. I’ll probably fade into the black here soon, so before I go, I want you to know who I am. My name is Riley and I am locked within this living dungeon. If you read this, if there is something you can do, please help me…

In Flight

Senior Member
Intriguing. I adore science-fiction and there is a reason why this hasn't escaped your mind after five years, I will probably be thinking about it before I go to sleep. Struck me almost as "Inception-esque" and I believe that movie to be a work of art. I think your writing style is quite good, rough draft or not. Only advice I'm going to give you is to finish it. Finish the concept before you go back through and edit. If you're a stream-of-consciousness writer like I am, then you've got to write it while you can, don't get stuck on the details...those can always be filled back in. But again, I believe this to be a worthy project to pursue. Brava.


Senior Member
Ugh, I want to avoid the Inception tag as much as possible (even thou I cherish the movie beyond others) but if it deserves a label, I'd rather it be off Nolan's stream of consciousness.

I can't give away the allegory and the purpose but it separates itself in a certain way from most "modernist" or "abstract" premises that we are used to today.

yeah ive been thinking about it and researching items pertaining to it, but never started it. I just recently got the creative drive so I jumped on it and this is what I produced tonight. I'm working on the first episode now, but it might take me a while due to life, school and football watching...lol

In Flight

Senior Member
Haa unfortunately, with such a short excerpt and the proliferation of said amazing movie, you're going to get that. Hopefully, if you deviate in such a way like you're mentioning, you will make it your own. However, you can also ride the inception pony to victory, as many people who normally wouldn't delve into abstract premises will now be interested in your work ;)

I hear ya on the life, school and football...got wrangled into a fantasy-football league and dangum-it if it isn't addicting.


Senior Member
This isn't finished but its the next section I came up with tonight. The accent is help from my grandfather and the help of the internet lol. I'll keep updating it as I go.

(I didnt proof read nor did I go back over what I wrote, so it could be a mess in some places, I apologize but I like it fresh :) )
"Hello Declan"

It’s been almost two weeks since I wrote my letter upon the wall near Parsons. The days continue as they did before, same motion, same ending. I question how much more of this I can take but its worthless anyways, I’ll always end up here pondering over what could have been. The bitter wind seeps through my jeans and hoodie like a ghost, tearing into my skin with its numbing claws. I wish I could find a fire, someplace to warm my soul, a retreat from this freezing torment. It feels as if this day is up and I can only pray that the next day changes in some sort of way. Please God, if you can even hear me, give me something….
…then obviously be flustered by this and cross the street to Victory to reach an unknown destination. While walking down Victory, I will begin to forget what I am doing and why I am walking in thirty eight degree weather at nine fifteen in the morning. Wait, something is different, this door it wasn’t here before. A red steel door now stood in the place of the Victory Market as if it had been there for ages. I couldn’t have been built overnight I try to tell myself, but then again how long is night here? I rub my hand across the rusted red paint, plucking away fragments of its history as I go. I want to open the door, but something inside me tells me to avoid this place at all costs. Why did it suddenly change? Why after so long did this door take the place of the old Jewish man’s market on Victory? Without warning, the darkness begins to pull me into its clutches. No, I can’t leave yet, I must find….
I awake on the mattress between Parsons and Coleridge as if I was having a bad dream. I sigh as I realize that I am still in this forsaken limbo. I lay back down on the mattress with despair and begin to pity myself when I realize that I’ve never awoke like I have today. What does this mean? Could I have changed something with the discovery of the Red Door?
“If ye don’t min' me askin', wa exactly laddie ur ye haverin' oan 'at mingin mattress.?” an odd voice calls out from the alley opening.
I sit up so quick I become dizzy. At this point I no longer cared; words other than my own were being spoken to me. The man in front of me was in a large peacoat with his hair in a ponytail. His beard covered his face and a scar that covered the majority of his left cheek. He stood there with a half smirk, cutting pieces off a healthy looking apple. I started to realize I was staring at him for quite a while.
“Ye aren’t earless er ye boy? Ah kin th' braw chan shrink teh pride ay a mann, bit em nae gonnae bite ya…at leest nae chit. ….” He said, watching my eyes widen with each word
“Aam only kiddin' laddie! Sae er ye jist gonnae sit thaur.?” He quipped, which in some ways reminded me of something.
“Who...who are you? How did you find me? How did you get here, I mean where am I?” The words spilled out of my mouth as if I hadn’t ever used my brain and mouth at the same time before.
“Weel its funay ye shoods ask.” he replied while eating a piece of apple. “Ah foond ye coz ay yer girnin' oan 'at dyke thaur! it gart ye soond loch a ninny!"” I just started to notice his strange accent, it wasn’t exactly what I would call Scottish or Welsh, well anything I’m used to really….
“Anyways, th' nam is declan, aam th' keeper ye ken! i've bin lookin' fur ye fur ages noo! we've got wark tae dae, we've got tae gie ye aw fixed up loon!” He said with a crooked smile reaching out towards me to help me from the mattress.
I reached out and took his hand, it was warm and real, it sent a shock wave of happiness over my soul unlike anything had in months. He dusted me off a bit and chuckled at my shaggy hair. I still could not place where I had known the man before. His features and persona just reminds me of something or someone I once knew.
“Here…” He said “Tak' thes jaekit, yoo'll need it, we hae a donner aheid ay us. we've got tae meit up wi' th' guardian afair tha' moorns nicht!”
He rubbed his beard and walked around the corner. His jacket smelled like whiskey and cigars, something that gave me a smile, not because of the smell but because I remembered it. I trotted around the corner to keep up with him. He whistled as we turned left on Coleridge instead of my typical right. I began to swarm him with questions of why, who, where and what. In short he explained to me that I was trapped in a tomb and the only way to get out was to light the signal that I was in trouble. This explains the reasoning behind my scribbled note upon the brick wall. He continued on that he could not explain to me why I was here, it was for me to find out on my own but he did say that his team would of misfits as he called him, would help me to my destination. He was a charming fellow and quite funny also. It was nice to finally have someone to listen to after all this time of talking to myself.
I was daydreaming about what Scottish highlands looked like or wherever he was from, when what sounded like a large metallic door was unlocking after a hundred years rang through the sky. I could feel the small ripple underneath my feet as the noise made its way through the earth. It made Declan stop dead in his tracks. He turned to look towards what I presume was the East, as we were heading North I guess. His face furrowed and a frown accompanied the pained look on his face.
“Declan, what was that noise?” I asked puzzled. I mean should I expect anything less from today?
Squinting his eyes and listening to the wind as it wipped past us he replied with “Nae time tae gab laddie, we hae company. dammit, thaur isnae way they kent ye waur haur...”
“Wait, who is here? Someone else is with you?” I asked franticly
He told me to shut my trap and follow him, quickly, as he started to pick up speed street to street.
I hadn’t noticed it before, but the streets were suddenly empty. This was strange because the streets were constantly full of random people doing their random items of business. We were 4 blocks from Victory when we rounded the corner at Drake and Teel. In front of us about seventy yards away were three men in what looked like Victorian attire, but was modern and weird in every way. They looked as if they were on a mission, something that took grizzled men such as themselves. The one in the middle seemed to be the leader as his look upon his face was more foreboding than the other two. At that moment, he turned and looked our way.
“Rin loon, follaw me an' rin.” Declan said while pushing my shoulders in the other direction.
At that moment, the men broke out into a full sprint, which caused me to be cemented into the ground below. I’ve never seen humans move that fast…never. Before I could snap to, Declan was dragging me into the alleyways between Drake and Winston, where I realized we were on the run for our lives.

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