Fun Stuff > CHATTER
Writtin' Thread
supersheep:
Jodie, I love your stories. Especially ones like that. There's just something about the language that is amazing.
peach:
i love short stories. i apologize if its a bit long
tell me what you think.
CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM ONLY, PLEASE.
"The Y District"
Delainie, Florida was really a beautiful city. Not for any one reason in particular, it was a beautiful city in the same way most beautiful cities manage to get that title. It lived. The whole place lived, and even if the people who busied their lives away there didn't see it, it breathed even and calm breaths of life. It had it all, all the things that big cities had. The bustling downtown, the busy outskirts, the serene country just outside of that. It possessed the people all big cities need to be called big cities. The lawyer with the wife, two children, and red-headed mistress. The police man with a chiseled past and no patience for punks, the single working mother with the adoring big-eyed son. They were all there in fronds, and they were all what gave Delainie breath. The city was a lovely, blooming metropolis, and though far from a heaven, it was wonderful. Of course though, as it is with all people, the ones who lived there, they couldn't appreciate the city for it's beauty, since it was much easier to dislike it for it's flaws, as few and far between as they were.
There wasn't crime in Delainie, not really. Nothing like other cities. There wasn't a gang problem, there weren't many stores robbed, and the ones that were, were robbed without causalities. It wasn't a crime-free haven, but it was safe there, so crime wasn't Delainie's problem. No, it wasn't crime. The law-enforcement was nice, because there was no crime. There was the plump little mayor with his suit always slightly messy, which made people able relate to him of course, his dark grey mustache always puffed out in his excitement. His bald head, with the crown of hair the same color as his puffy mustache, always reflected the sun when he gave speeches. The people of Delainie loved him, because he was familiar, he was comforting, he was one of them. No, the law in Delainie wasn't the problem. It was actually so much more simple then that, more simple because it was so easy to avoid. So easy to just push out of mind, until one of your relatives turned up there dead from drug overdose.
The problem in Delainie was The Y District.
The Y District wasn't really a district as most would think of it, instead of being composed of a few buildings, a few roads, it consumed Delainie's east side, over one fourth of the city. It was just as thriving as the rest of Delainie, and just like the rest of the city breathed, so did The Y District. But, even though Delainie breathed slow, calm breaths, The Y took in deep gasps and exhaled them with the equal amount of force. It breathed like a dying animal that refused to let go, but that's where the similarities between The Y and something dying ended. It was, if anything, even more alive then the rest of the city. People there knew what they wanted, and they took it. It was simple as that. The whole district was a mess of bars, clubs, strip joints, and apartments. It was a thriving metropolis just like the rest of Delainie, but unlike the rest, it thrived completely on it's own. It was an alien place, a different town, and the people who lived there liked it that way. They liked twelve hookers to a pimp, three pimps to a boss, and one boss every five blocks. They liked falling to sleep to the sound of bass thudding, car alarms, and windows breaking. Well, most of them. The Y was where you came if that was the life you wanted, or if you wanted a break away from the life you had.
The District didn't act as a whole though, just like The Y was cut off from Delainie, a city divided, it was a district divided. There was your drug slum, complete with the dealers, the junkies, and the squatters. Your straight hooker section, equipped with clubs and all the pussy you could ever hope for, and finally your gay hooker section, equipped with a few more clubs then the straight, all the dick and fake pussy you could ever dream of. It was heaven for men cheating on their wives, wives cheating on their husbands. It was a safe haven for men in the closet, and women who couldn't get any on their own. The rest of Delainie wasn't heaven, but The Y District, it was.
That was what The Y was to Sasha. More then anything else, it was his heaven, and there was nothing he would trade for it. The only problem was, The Y wouldn't trade anything for him either. You breathed the air of that place long enough, you lived the life that it offered for so many years, and you became a prisoner to it. That's what Sasha was, he was a prisoner to The District. All though, unlike most prisoners, he loved it, and he breathed in The Y District of Delainie, Florida just as violently as it breathed in him. The smell of sex, alcohol, cheap make-up, and ocean got him through every day, and he was happy living life that was, because it was what he had pushed himself into. Life in The Y wasn't a cruel turn of fate for him, it was a life he choose, and one he had worked hard to perfect.
Sasha's name wasn't really Sasha at all, at least not according to his mother. According to her, and by law, Sasha's name was Shelton Roderick DeVay. Sasha sounded much better in his opinion. At the tender age of eleven, Shelton realized he was unhappy in the way most eleven year old boys living on a farm in the middle of no where in Kentucky shouldn't be unhappy. The house was square, white washed, with high windows. It was a nice house. The yard was fenced in with a white picket fence in the front, there were cows, ducks, chickens, four dogs, everything a young boy could want in the back. There was a pond on their land, a creek, other houses with other boys and even little girls. It was perfect, or would have been for most boys.
Shelton had no friends in his neighborly farmer's boy life. None of the boys wanted to be near him, which was fair enough, he didn't want to be near them either. The little girls had nothing to do with him either, which also suited him. If you laid eyes on him at eleven you couldn't see why all the children in the neighborhood would avoid him, there was no reason for it. He wasn't visually unpleasing, with dirty blonde hair cut evenly just above his shoulders to frame a round face, skin the color of a coffee with just enough creamer, and pale green eyes. He was an interesting boy too, his father had taught him a lot when he was younger, things that all young boys want to know. No, those weren't the reasons the children of the neighborhood avoided him, the only ones who /really/ knew the reasons, besides the children, were the strangers who passed through town.
While other little boys would run down to the creek on the DeVay land and catch craw fish, Shelton DeVay stood on the edge of the dirt road a mile from his house, and waited for strange cars to pass. Once they did, once they slowed down, and asked him what he was doing there, in the middle of nowhere, and once he told them, almost every time they would ask him to get in. Once Shelton DeVay got in these cars, they would drive off into a field somewhere nearby, and by his own freewill, Shelton DeVay, would have sex with the men who picked him up. You would think it would be an easy secret to keep, but Shelton never tried to keep it a secret. The fact that all the children his own age knew about him, it spiced up his boring farm life. He wanted them to know about him, and avoid him, because it made his life easier.
It was when he was almost 12 that Shelton realized the country wouldn't work for him. Waiting on his dirt road, a familiar truck stopped in front of him, and looking in, to the owner of the local feed store, he was confused. The man told him to get in, and he did. They drove to their field, and instead of having sex, the owner of the local feed store called him a faggot, beat the shit out of him, and left him there.
Two weeks later the same man returned after his wife ran out on him, to ask for a hand job.
It was then that he left, promising himself that he would never smell the stink of cows ever again, hitch-hiking with a stranger who came into town, paying him the only way he could. He had wandered till he was almost 14, then somehow ended up in The Y District of Delainie. It was heaven to him, because it was everything he had ever longed for in his life, put in one place. After three weeks on the streets he had enough to pay for a shitty apartment. After three months, he had enough to pay for a better one, and after three years, he had enough to pay for the nicest in the district, which was pretty damn nice, seeing as the rent was nearly twelve hundred dollars a month. But he could afford it, and more, because he had that many regulars, because he was that good.
Sasha, standing on a corner, his face lit with the neon of the street, looked nothing like Shelton. The only thing he had retained from his childhood was his skin tone, and his round face. His hair was lighter now, expensively done a paler blonde with undertones of brown, cut touching his collarbones with layers up to his crown, bangs to hitting the middle of his cheeks on both sides. His hair had a sharp, jagged feel to it because it was razored, no one edge cut flat. His eyes had darkened with age, and the pale green of youth had faded, becoming a dark vivid green, that looked black in the neon. The ratty farmers boy clothes had been replaced, black pants that looked more expensive then the club he was standing in front of, knee high fasten up black boots, a purposefully tattered, tight black shirt with an emblem on the front that had long ago lost it's meaning, an interesting looking dark red coat that hit him at the bottom of the thigh, thick, buckles here and there.
Occasionally people stopped, acknowledged him, and he ignored them, drawing on the cigarette he had between his index and middle finger. He knew the people here, at 19 he had been here long enough just to know, and he didn't fuck trash.
A man in drag passed in front of him and he made a disgusted face, dropping the cigarette onto the cement and crushing it with a soft grinding sound under his boot. Men were men, and that was how it should be, or at least that was what he thought. The transvestites, drag-queens, cross-dressers that roamed the district were so fake to him, it made him sick to his stomach. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, cocking one eyebrow at the man who was grinning at him, crossing his arms over his chest slowly.
"It's more then you can afford old man."
"Oh, oh I have the money, believe you me," the man pulled a wad of what looked like twenties out of his pocket and Sasha cocked his mouth in a smirk.
"Funny, you don't look like you can afford fifty-seven a half-hour," the man's smile faded and turned into a look of surprise mixed with anger.
"You don't honestly charge that! You must not get to many customers, some whore you are!" It was Sasha's turn to be angry, his face twisting with rage as his body stance changed and he turned to face the man.
"I probably live in a nicer house then you, you god damn perv so why don't you fucking get lost before I facefuck you with my fist! I don't FUCK, TRASH." He jerked his fist back, it was intimidating looking, despite his height of only 5'6, mostly because his fingers were covered in rings, and the man backed up, giving Sasha one more disgusted look before he turned and disappeared around the nearby corner. Sasha sighed, blowing his hair out of his face before he leaned back against the wall. Okay, so he didn't charge that much, but the man still couldn't afford him, even with his wad of twenties.
Siibillam-Law:
Here's (one of) mine, folks
The Comedie of the Antichrist Superstar
Basil Baradaran
It was seven oh-six, December one-oh
About a dozen and thirteen years ago
A woman and man got married that day
And swore semper fidelis, and love come what may
Sadly the wife cheated, had slept with a man
Who she didn’t know was the big guy, Satan
She carried his child but never did tell
And gave birth to him in a five-star hotel
The wife never told her husband the truth
For what she had done was considered uncouth
The child was baptised and they christened him Chris
But the priests seemed to treat him with wanton malice
The couple raised Chris without any clues
That he was a child of satanic hues
Like everyone else his existence was dry
He was an average boy with an average life
Until his first day in education
His mind underwent a transformation
His innocence died and a new Chris was born
It was people, he found, that made his mind so torn
But he made lots of friends and they had a good time
Worshipping Satan and committing wild crimes
They were usually nice and couldn’t guess why
They minds went corrupt when they went near that child
As Young Chris grew older, his mind changed once more
He turned almost saint-like, and never before
Had his friends or his parents see him so kind
So gentle with people, so nice all the time
For years his moods switched like Jekyll and Hyde
It was like there was a war in his mind
While celestial forces from both sides of the cross
Fought to have Chris as a tool for their boss
But the darkness did win and it hid deep inside
Young Chris; it was waiting for the right time to rise…
At Foodstuffs the lad took a job for some cash
It was there that he met the girl Jennifer Nash
For days Chris and Jen spent their time together
Walking on beaches or rolling in heather
They did all the romantic clichés that they could
And Chris felt something he had not understood
“Love?” asked his best friend, as they walked through the park
“Have you made her a song, carved your names in the bark?
“Have you names for each other? Like honey or pet?”
“Not just yet, my good friend,” laughed Chris, “not just yet!”
Chris arrived home to find Jen on his bed
She gave him a look and sweetly she said:
“Listen, I think we should talk about us
“It’s nothing to fret; I’m not causing a fuss
“I just want to know if what we have is real.”
To which Chris said: “nothing can stop what I feel!”
He and Jen hugged and they kissed for a while
And when Jen left, Chris went to sleep with a smile
Less than a year passed and it was Chris’s birthday
When his father appeared in a large ring of flames
And Satan decided to tell Chris the truth
In uffish thought Chris stood quite bemused
But he had no time for he heard Satan tell
“My boy, it is time! Serve the powers of Hell!
Chris was frozen in shock, old Lucifer said
“The time-bomb inside you has detonated!”
“The ineffable end! Armageddon!”
“The film or the nerd-fest?” queried his son
The Devil sighed deeply. “The end of the world.”
“You must bring it about! The flags must be unfurled!”
Demonic thoughts suddenly flashed in his brain
Of angels and monsters and fiery rain
The long-hidden evil had risen at last -
Chris was finally aware of his demonic past!
But a memory rushed back: the face of his Jen
He thought about her, he felt lost and then
Love took over and the evil was drowned
He glared at his father, who replied with a frown
“I cannot do it,” he said, angry and wild
“But you must!” ordered Satan. “’Cos you are my child!”
Chris stepped over his parents, (who had fainted in shock)
He leapt out the door and he ran down the block
Visions of Apocalypse flared in his head
As he ran his brain filled with terror and dread
He knew that the devil would find him straight away
That he could not escape the fate of that day
Meanwhile, far below, in the city of Dis
Satan strolled the floor and he said with a hiss:
“I can sense his damned thoughts! It’s that girl he adores!
“If I can have her brought here, then he’ll play by my laws!”
He asked that an agent be brought to his door
And a few minutes later in walked Valefor
“What do you want?” V asked, in an annoyed tone
”I want you to go out there and capture someone.”
Valefor looked wary and asked who and why
“You must bring me this girl that my boy fears will die
“When Apocalypse comes, and he won’t do it till
“He knows that she’s safe,” and he sat down, quite ill
Too much love in this boy, it made his head hurt!
But once she is down here, Chris’s mind will convert
So he sent V away to capture young Jen
And he went to office to plan the world’s end
Two days later Chris had no word of his lass
She was not at home or at uni in class
Her phone was unanswered, Chris feared for her life
What was troubling her? What was causing this strife?
But Christopher’s questions were answered just when
His father appeared holding hostage his Jen
“If you want to see her,” Satan said to his son
“Then you’ll do as I say, you’ll do what must be done.”
“If our plan succeeds and we possess the world,
“Then on this new Earth you can live with your girl!”
Chris said “Heaven’s the sole place she can stay in;
“Because Jen is too pure to be kept in this sin!”
His father was shocked at the H-word Chris used
He said “kiss your mother with that mouth, do you?”
“You’ll never see Jen if you disobey me!
“Cos I’ll trap her forever in Purgatory!”
As Satan began to vanish in the air
Chris turned to the Lord in a desperate prayer
And he felt something change inside, deep in his heart
It was Heaven and God, and his soul split apart
And the clouds burst apart with a thunderous roar
And a ray of light flooded and blinded our four
(Valefor had captured Jen’s brother as well
For no real reason, he just thought What the hell)
A deep booming voice emerged from the cloud
You could say it was holy but was simply just loud
It cried: “Let them go, the boy’s heart has transformed!
“He belongs to us now! His beliefs have reformed!”
“He may be of your blood, but his soul is now ours!”
“No he’s not,” replied Satan, bluntly, to the cloud
“Yes he is!” “No he’s not!” (And it went on like this:
An argument over who really owned Chris)
The debates continued between both deities
The Lord shouting something at Mephistopheles
And the latter yelled back; it was going nowhere
But there appeared to be no stopping for the pair
So Chris saw his chance which was staring at him
He snuck up, rescued his girl and her brother Tim
As they all ran away they could still hear the noise
Of the infernal quarrel of the celestial boys
“By the time the two stop it,” Chris laughed as he told
“The world could have ended and restarted ten-fold!”
As the Four Riders landed, clothed in anger and sin
Death asked Chris irately: “When do we come in?”
AMEN
Thank God for that
Notes:
"nerd-fest" he mentions is the Armageddon Pulp Cultre Expo and the film is the one with Bruce Willis.
Foodstuffs I just invented
http:www.storywrite.com/siibillam for more
Gilead:
Sometimes I write poems.
A Perfect Match
I want to date a girl I don’t love
We’ll go out
To fancy restaurants
Sit across from one another
And make awkward conversation
I will ask her about herself
And while she talks
I will not listen
Instead I’ll be thinking
About a book I read last week
Three months pass and we
Are tolerably happy together
I still don’t know what
She does at her job
Or what colour her eyes are
When I’m not looking at them
We get married after a year
A wonderful ceremony
A beautiful ring
While I read out my vows
I think about how
I have never fled a church
By leaping through a stained glass window
We have three children
I buy their affection with toys and gifts
And when they get older
I realize that they look nothing like me
I don’t mind too much
We grow old together
Sharing looks of quiet resentment
Over long evenings
In front of the television
‘The price is right’
She sneers quietly
In the box’s blue glow
I pretend not to notice
But silently agree
She dies at seventy
When they’re cutting the headstone
The masons ask me
What her maiden name was
I check my phone to recall
ampersandwitch:
:-D
Navigation
[0] Message Index
[#] Next page
[*] Previous page
Go to full version