RevSQ
11-20-2008, 04:15 AM
K so recently had this short story assignment where we had to write a short story. Yeah. Anyway I handed it in, but it usually takes our teacher like two months to give it back to us so imma just go ahead and post it here. Give me a percentage mark. Pretend you're a fifty year old grade 10 female english teacher who always talks in a cheerful tone beacuse she has a fucking dildo perpetually stuck up her ass.
I'm totally fucked if she's a final fantasy fan.
Alone in the Dark
I once knew a man who worked a desk job in a small company that made staples, making barely enough money to keep him alive. There was nothing special about this man; he didn’t take on a heroic alter ego come nightfall, nor did he have a three digit code name. The only special thing about him was a small birthmark on his wrist that looked like Texas. Despite outward appearances, however, what happened to this man was anything but ordinary.
In the middle of a midnight blizzard in January and dressed in no more than a thin sweater, he staggered drowsily along the snow bleached highway. I couldn’t see him at all through the darkness and the snow until I almost hit him. Feeling a twinge of pity for the poor man, I pulled up alongside him. He turned his head towards me, unsettling some of the snow that had piled up on his head. He just barely managed a faint smile at me. The bottom half of his face was concealed with a scarf and what skin was showing was pale as the falling snow, shining even without the presence of a moon. It gave him the look of an apparition.
“Need a ride?” I asked, rolling down the window. The wind beat against my skin like icy daggers, rattling my teeth with their force. It must’ve been like hell for him. He nodded politely, opening the passenger seat door and stepping inside my car, shivering.
“Cold this year isn’t it?” I said, attempting to make conversation, something I didn’t do very well. “It’s like goddamn Niflheim.” He simply nodded and licked his chapped lips, staring at the floor. “You know, the Norse hell place? Read it in a book yesterday.” I beamed. He made no indication he heard me.
Eventually, he replied, smiling cryptically, “Yeah, I know about it.” His voice was apathetic, and as raspy and cold as the snowstorm raging on outside.
“So where you going?” I inquired, stealing a glance at him now and again through the darkness. Feeling cramped, I flicked on the light inside the car. It was then I noticed that where his right eye should’ve been, there was a dark patch of fresh gore. I gulped quietly, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.
“I don’t know.” He said simply, stretching his arms out in front of the heater. I reached for the knob and turned the heat up a few degrees.
“Well don’t you have a place to stay or something” I asked, bemused.
“No.”
“Why not?”
He simply ignored me, preferring the quiet company of the heater blasting waves of arid air at us. We sat there quietly for a few minutes, an inexplicable wave of eeriness washing over me.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I asked, puzzled by my sudden feeling of familiarity towards this stranger.
“Not yet,” he responded slowly and deliberately, an icy tone creeping into his voice. “But I already know you.”
I shivered involuntarily at those words, as though they had some sort of a supernatural hold over me. “Alright, I’ll tell you what,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “I’ll drop you off at the next town and you’ll have to find your own way from there, alright? They’ve got a motel you can stay at until you find someplace you need to be.”
“Whatever works for you,” he wheezed in the same tired voice as before. I started sweating nervously, anxiously awaiting the time when I could remove myself from this sinister soul in the seat beside me. I stared straight ahead, afraid to make eye contact. I glanced longingly at the icy shards of snow and ice falling pitter-patter on the car, and all of a sudden feeling like I really wanted to be outside, no matter what the temperature. I stole a fleeting look at him, and saw to my dismay he was still glaring intently towards me.
“So where’re you from?” I asked nervously, hoping to divert attention away from me.
“Where you’re from”
By now I was terrified, my chest clenched like a fist. My only thought was that I was carpooling with a deranged maniac. “You don’t know where I-“
“Boston, right?” He interjected. I quivered at his cold, cadaverous voice. He turned his head sideways, looking at me questioningly. The fact that he knew where I lived hardly bothered me anymore. I turned in my seat to look at him, face to face with the very definition of fear. His gored eye bore into me with an intensity his functional one could never manage.
“Now look, I don’t know who, or what, you are, but I don’t think you’re up to any good. Perhaps you should get out of the car.”
“Is that so?” he rasped, seemingly amused. “I apologize, but perhaps it would be wiser for you to focus on the road, and not me.” Realizing the truth of his words, I gripped the steering wheel just as the car smashed through the wooden fence separating me and a hundred feet of thin, mountain air. I let loose a gut-wrenching scream as I careened off the road and was thrown down into the empty abyss.
When I came to, I was sandwiched beneath the car. I could feel a viscous fluid flowing down my face. I reached up with my one available hand and groped around my head. With a jolt, I wrapped my hand around a thin metal rod protruding from my face, though I couldn’t tell where; the cold was numbing my senses. Taking advantage of nature’s anesthetic, I gave the rod a good yank, pulling it free from inside my face. An explosion of pain erupted in my eye, pushing my mind into the depths of unconsciousness.
Now you may not believe in the supernatural, but let me tell you, it is all too real. The ghouls may not come dressed in bed sheets or capes, but they are there. There are some things in this world that cannot be explained by science, nor by religion, things that affect your lives in ways you’ll never understand. You might not encounter the paranormal today, or tomorrow, or even in your lifetime, but believe me, what you don’t know can hurt you.
I wake up God knows how many hours later. This time, however, I awake to the cold, fresh air of the forest, not the stinking fumes of gasoline and blood. Opening my eyes, I realize I could only see through one, and I remember the spike protruding from my head with a gasp. I see my car lying in a heap to the left, a rather familiar arm protruding awkwardly from under it. With a sinking feeling, I notice the all too familiar birthmark on the wrist. Grabbing my scarf and wrapping it tightly around my head, I make my way up the cliff in search of help.
Marching down the empty street in the middle of a blizzard, I notice a beacon of light from behind as I hear the uproarious sound of a tired car engine approaching. The car pulls up alongside me.
“Need a ride?” asks a voice from within, as I turn to give myself a smile. Somehow, I was staring into my own face, but that wasn’t possible. There can’t be two of me. Smiling at the imposter, I consider my choices carefully. Finally, I resolve that if I ever wanted my life back, I would have to take his. One can’t live unless the other dies.
I'm totally fucked if she's a final fantasy fan.
Alone in the Dark
I once knew a man who worked a desk job in a small company that made staples, making barely enough money to keep him alive. There was nothing special about this man; he didn’t take on a heroic alter ego come nightfall, nor did he have a three digit code name. The only special thing about him was a small birthmark on his wrist that looked like Texas. Despite outward appearances, however, what happened to this man was anything but ordinary.
In the middle of a midnight blizzard in January and dressed in no more than a thin sweater, he staggered drowsily along the snow bleached highway. I couldn’t see him at all through the darkness and the snow until I almost hit him. Feeling a twinge of pity for the poor man, I pulled up alongside him. He turned his head towards me, unsettling some of the snow that had piled up on his head. He just barely managed a faint smile at me. The bottom half of his face was concealed with a scarf and what skin was showing was pale as the falling snow, shining even without the presence of a moon. It gave him the look of an apparition.
“Need a ride?” I asked, rolling down the window. The wind beat against my skin like icy daggers, rattling my teeth with their force. It must’ve been like hell for him. He nodded politely, opening the passenger seat door and stepping inside my car, shivering.
“Cold this year isn’t it?” I said, attempting to make conversation, something I didn’t do very well. “It’s like goddamn Niflheim.” He simply nodded and licked his chapped lips, staring at the floor. “You know, the Norse hell place? Read it in a book yesterday.” I beamed. He made no indication he heard me.
Eventually, he replied, smiling cryptically, “Yeah, I know about it.” His voice was apathetic, and as raspy and cold as the snowstorm raging on outside.
“So where you going?” I inquired, stealing a glance at him now and again through the darkness. Feeling cramped, I flicked on the light inside the car. It was then I noticed that where his right eye should’ve been, there was a dark patch of fresh gore. I gulped quietly, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.
“I don’t know.” He said simply, stretching his arms out in front of the heater. I reached for the knob and turned the heat up a few degrees.
“Well don’t you have a place to stay or something” I asked, bemused.
“No.”
“Why not?”
He simply ignored me, preferring the quiet company of the heater blasting waves of arid air at us. We sat there quietly for a few minutes, an inexplicable wave of eeriness washing over me.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I asked, puzzled by my sudden feeling of familiarity towards this stranger.
“Not yet,” he responded slowly and deliberately, an icy tone creeping into his voice. “But I already know you.”
I shivered involuntarily at those words, as though they had some sort of a supernatural hold over me. “Alright, I’ll tell you what,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “I’ll drop you off at the next town and you’ll have to find your own way from there, alright? They’ve got a motel you can stay at until you find someplace you need to be.”
“Whatever works for you,” he wheezed in the same tired voice as before. I started sweating nervously, anxiously awaiting the time when I could remove myself from this sinister soul in the seat beside me. I stared straight ahead, afraid to make eye contact. I glanced longingly at the icy shards of snow and ice falling pitter-patter on the car, and all of a sudden feeling like I really wanted to be outside, no matter what the temperature. I stole a fleeting look at him, and saw to my dismay he was still glaring intently towards me.
“So where’re you from?” I asked nervously, hoping to divert attention away from me.
“Where you’re from”
By now I was terrified, my chest clenched like a fist. My only thought was that I was carpooling with a deranged maniac. “You don’t know where I-“
“Boston, right?” He interjected. I quivered at his cold, cadaverous voice. He turned his head sideways, looking at me questioningly. The fact that he knew where I lived hardly bothered me anymore. I turned in my seat to look at him, face to face with the very definition of fear. His gored eye bore into me with an intensity his functional one could never manage.
“Now look, I don’t know who, or what, you are, but I don’t think you’re up to any good. Perhaps you should get out of the car.”
“Is that so?” he rasped, seemingly amused. “I apologize, but perhaps it would be wiser for you to focus on the road, and not me.” Realizing the truth of his words, I gripped the steering wheel just as the car smashed through the wooden fence separating me and a hundred feet of thin, mountain air. I let loose a gut-wrenching scream as I careened off the road and was thrown down into the empty abyss.
When I came to, I was sandwiched beneath the car. I could feel a viscous fluid flowing down my face. I reached up with my one available hand and groped around my head. With a jolt, I wrapped my hand around a thin metal rod protruding from my face, though I couldn’t tell where; the cold was numbing my senses. Taking advantage of nature’s anesthetic, I gave the rod a good yank, pulling it free from inside my face. An explosion of pain erupted in my eye, pushing my mind into the depths of unconsciousness.
Now you may not believe in the supernatural, but let me tell you, it is all too real. The ghouls may not come dressed in bed sheets or capes, but they are there. There are some things in this world that cannot be explained by science, nor by religion, things that affect your lives in ways you’ll never understand. You might not encounter the paranormal today, or tomorrow, or even in your lifetime, but believe me, what you don’t know can hurt you.
I wake up God knows how many hours later. This time, however, I awake to the cold, fresh air of the forest, not the stinking fumes of gasoline and blood. Opening my eyes, I realize I could only see through one, and I remember the spike protruding from my head with a gasp. I see my car lying in a heap to the left, a rather familiar arm protruding awkwardly from under it. With a sinking feeling, I notice the all too familiar birthmark on the wrist. Grabbing my scarf and wrapping it tightly around my head, I make my way up the cliff in search of help.
Marching down the empty street in the middle of a blizzard, I notice a beacon of light from behind as I hear the uproarious sound of a tired car engine approaching. The car pulls up alongside me.
“Need a ride?” asks a voice from within, as I turn to give myself a smile. Somehow, I was staring into my own face, but that wasn’t possible. There can’t be two of me. Smiling at the imposter, I consider my choices carefully. Finally, I resolve that if I ever wanted my life back, I would have to take his. One can’t live unless the other dies.