Tag Archives: short

ON STORYTELLING: Why Answering Everything Isn’t the Best Way to Go

28 May

Lost

I had a few readers ask me to do something very interesting recently. Well, perhaps not so interesting to you as it is to me, but the pleas I received definitely did lead to a line of thought which I wanted to go over briefly, and before I get to caught up in digression, let me give you a summary of the request I was given:

Can you answer my questions?

Sci-Fi Bloggers is of course the notable online magazine I am the Editor-in-Chief of and it is our goal to provide original content of our own to include with our (mostly) daily reports on current goings-on in the world of science fiction and fantasy. One form of this we adopted some time back is our Friday Fiction category. There we feature the work of several authors, the two most prominent and frequent being Brandon Scott and myself. We recently did a “Double Feature” special which included a tale I have been criticized for and praised for entitled “Jars”. The thing for which it was criticized by the way was the same thing it was lauded for: its confusing nature.

I was asked to add on to it, to continue it, to make certain it didn’t end on more than one occasion. More specifically, I was asked to “fill in the blanks.” For those who haven’t read it, it’s five pages, so it shouldn’t be too hard. Take a looking by clicking here.

Please read that before continuing. It is quite brief.

Now, here we have a case wherein I believe that I shouldn’t add anything more to this tale. I think the entire thing is perfectly encapsulated by the self-contained incident (or rather couple of incidents). Nothing more needs to be said. And I was asked about adding more and then someone had a proposition, and I smiled and asked to hear what the proposition was. He went on to delineate a storyline in which the woman and the monster chasing her were both servants of Hades, Lord of the Underworld. After learning of numerous atrocities committed by Hades, acts that harmed and ended the lives of millions of human beings in the world above, she joined the ranks of mortal men, committing espionage against her own kind. She was arrested for her crimes and, after breaking out of prison, tried to “lay low” and remain hidden from her newfound enemies.

In the intervening time between then and my story, she has children, mortal children. The creature, the beast that’s after her, is a bounty hunter, and in order to protect her offspring from the horrors of the Underworld, she kills them, for they are without sin and wouldn’t end up there as a result. The bounty hunter, through physical contact, manages to scramble her memory, and thus, “Jars”.

Now, let me make this point crystal clear: I didn’t write any of that. Or at least I didn’t originate the idea myself. Perhaps I reconfigured it in a form that was more consumable, but it was one of my readers who thought of it.

I told him right then that that very thing, what he just did, is why I didn’t answer all of the questions in a tale such as “Jars”, because the purpose of some stories, many of them in fact, is not to solve but inspire. If I had told him my concept of “Jars” and what think the monster is, he wouldn’t have thought of that brilliant storyline, he wouldn’t have created anything. And the funny thing is, the same thing happened to me just two weeks later.

Brandon Scott wrote a story called “Small Town Games”. You can read it here. I immediately thought a whole movie should be made around the concept. Perhaps I was right, but perhaps Brandon was in suggesting that the manner of his construction, his storytelling, led me to the creation of my own idea of what “the games” were. See, that’s an interesting thing.

The single most powerful thing a creation can do is cause further creation. If the actions of one man, woman, child, what have you, can cause another to do something else, that is real powerthat is influence.

I am suggesting that other writers look at this as a possibility. Instead of criticizing Lost for not answering all of your questions, maybe look at it the way you might a show like The Leftovers, where answers are no longer necessary, or like The Sopranos, where implications feeds us the answers, the truth. I know it sounds like I’m excusing authors and directors from solidifying their visions and ending their tales, but perhaps we could be a little more forgiving when they don’t hit that last note on the piano, because sometimes the precipice is all we need. Sometimes, we don’t have to dive into the water below. We can create our own pool, our own interpretation, our own art.

~D.

 

Escaping the Ultimate Garbage Man

10 Jan

The Bottom From Above

It’ll make more sense when you head over to Sci-Fi Bloggers.

(Click it, guys. It’s not a virus. Really? You think I’d do that?)

~D.

You Never Know How A Post Is Gonna Venereal Diseases

29 Apr

The elves know Madison.

To any of my readers who have venereal diseases: too soon?

The last fictional piece I wrote for the blog that actually had a point and a purpose was rather anti-climactic. So, until I finish a few more shorts, and until I actually finish them, I’ll just be struggling to find something appealing for you guys. How’s about I give you a peak into what’s coming in the future:

STAR WARS: I’ve gotten a ton of requests to do another Star Wars piece. I’ve decided that this blog is just as much yours as it is mine and so I’ll figure something out about writing a “Top 5” or something.

SHORTS: As mentioned previously, I’m working on some short stories. I’ll be able to post them regularly on here soon. They’ll be a lot darker and moodier than my usual material, which is good because, you know, there isn’t enough dark and moody material on the market.

BASKETBALL: I just felt like writing the word; nothing here.

REVIEWS: I’ll be doing movie reviews again! Expect one for Star Trek: Into Darkness. I’m super stoked for that one, you have no idea.

SPOTLIGHTING: I’ll spotlight cool internet related things I find. It’ll give me more to do on here, more to talk with you about other than, you know, me.

I think that’s everything. All right, I’ll be seeing you guys! I’m off to not play TF2 some more (a few of you got that). BYE!

 

~D.

They said the title was optional…

15 Nov

Okay, so I know I’ve been writing stuff lately that’s completely unrelated to everything that ever happens anywhere. So, today, I shall now attempt to do the exact opposite and provide you with actual art. So, here it is, the first chapter of my next book. If you steal it, I will find you and kill you. It’ll be published by the end of the year. This is not the format you’ll see it in. The chapter (or “episode” in this case) has no name. I won’t be naming the chapters until I’ve finished the book. It’s over two hundred pages now, I think. I hope you enjoy this section.

P.S.- If there are spelling errors and you point them out to me, I will consider that legitimate grounds to do the same thing I’d do if you stole this Holy God awesome work of art. Thank you, jerks.

————————————————————————————————————————————–

Ledge

EPISODE ONE

There’s darkness, and then the curtains are drawn back. Time starts. His thumb moves. Click. That’s the sound of the gun’s hammer getting pulled back.

“Still won’t talk, Mr. Adams?”

That’s Greg. He isn’t holding the gun. Mac’s holding the gun. Mac’s seven feet tall, or something.

“Hit him again, Mac.”

Whack! That’s me getting punched in the face by a left hook. The gun’s in his right hand, not aimed at anything in particular yet.

“Come on, Adams. We don’t got all day. Just tell us where your friend is and we’ll let you go.”

My friend is Michael. I won’t tell Greg anything. I think my jaw’s broken anyway. It hurts like hell.

“Adams…”

We’re in a hotel room. It’s got a nice view overlooking Lake Oslana. That wasn’t the lake’s first name, but the owner of the hotel line decided it’d be a nice one to buy. I wonder what it was called originally.

“You know how easy this is. And it’s not like we’re gonna backstab you or anything. Just let us at him!”

I wish Greg would get it over with and have my ass capped already. There’s no way I’m exposing Michael—no way. I really hope he doesn’t come in and try to save me or anything.

AGH! GOOD GOD!

“That’s strike one. Next we put a bullet in your other thigh. Might be hard to walk around. Start talking.”

Jesus Christ, it hurts so much! Keep it together, Eddie! Be cool! You’ll make it out of this. Just need a plan.

Greg’s looking over at the other two men in the room, Mac not being one of them. He says something to them, but I can’t hear it very well. It HURTS!

“…and if we’re not quick enough, the Doctor might wonder what’s taking so long!”

The Doctor: a psychotic crime lord with one eye and one hand. There’s an eye patch over the eye (no, no hook). He seems threatening to most people. Not to me. He’s just an ugly old man to me.

Whack! Another punch. The Doctor REALLY wants Michael dead, huh?

“We may have to waterboard it out of this guy,” says one of the other men. I don’t know his name, just some random goon with a gun. I hope Greg doesn’t agree.

“Get the rags,” he says. Now I’m done for. I won’t be able to hold out through that stuff. I hope Michael left the country. It’s not safe here in State 9 anymore, not with all that’s been happening lately.

A lot of time passes once the third man exits to get the rags. I give Greg an indifferent look, he shoots a glare. I give Mac the same look and he just snorts and walks off, dropping the gun on a sofa chair. He talks quietly with the last man in the room (just another goon).

“Why do you care so much?” Greg asks me. I become introspective and really analyze this before I answer, and then I shrug seeing as nothing I say will prove satisfactory. If I told him how Michael saved me, how he was different from the other you-know-whats, he wouldn’t understand. He’d just say I was a nutcase who needed his head examined.

After the course of fifteen minutes (it felt like a lot more to me), the rags arrive with the third man. He tosses them to Mac, who catches them with ease.

“Did you bring the bottles too?” Greg asks.

“They’re just outside sir,” the man responds. “I’ll go get ‘em.”

The chair I’m strapped to is made of wood. It is laid across the floor, me now facing the ceiling. This is going to suck.

“You could always talk now,” Greg offers. I remain silent, like a good friend should, and the rags are placed over my face. I toss my head to the left, throwing the rags off. When a hard punch hits me in the—Lord, that hurts!—face I stopped turning. The rags go over my face again. I think my nose is bleeding.

One of the water bottles is opening, I can hear it. Here it comes. Mac’s tilting it right now. Get out now Michael. Get out before they find y—CRASH!

“What the—?!”

The sound of men being tossed about the room echoes through my ears. Bullets fly from Mac’s gun, but it explodes in his hand, causing him to shout in pain. The other two goons fire but are launched into the ceiling, their necks snapping. I can hear Greg being pinned against the wall. Mac is groaning and weeping on the floor as the rags are lifted off my face.

Michael.

“Get out of here!” I tell him. He unties the ropes that bind me and helps me into a sofa chair. There’s Greg, being held against the wall by Michael’s power.

“An angel never leaves his friends behind,” he tells me, before looking to Greg with an expressionless face. One of the guns of the dead goons soars toward his hand. He aims it at the leader of the group, now begging for mercy.

“To harm an ally of mine is to hang oneself,” the angel says. Then a red mark appears between the eyes of Greg and blood trickles down from it until it reaches his lips. The body falls to the floor, lifeless as ever. Michael looks back at me.

“Are you all right, Edward?”

“Yeah,” I lie, “I’m dandy. You showed up just in time. Although I still think you need to get the hell out of Dodge.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “WE are getting out of Dodge, not I.”

“I have to see Sally first.”

Sally’s my girlfriend. She’s—she’s beautiful. I haven’t quite decided whether I’ll marry her yet. We’ve been steady for a few years now.

“No time,” Michael tells me, causing my further worry. “Those were easy hunters. If they send Lucifer—.”

“I can’t just leave her. They’ll kill her!”

I’m standing now, but my leg hurts too much. I’m trembling as I fall back into the chair. Michael holds a hand to were the bullet is and slowly—YAGH—levitates it out of me. I’m not bleeding too bad. Okay, maybe I AM bleeding too bad. But he’s already ripping a bed sheet apart and wrapping a piece of it around the wound.

“That should stop the bleeding. Raphael will be able to heal you later.”

“Michael, I can’t leave her.”

His face, though without expression, holds weight behind it like you couldn’t imagine. His eyes waver and glow. And then, he understands.

“I will get you to safety first. The others are downstairs with a car. I’ll let them get you out of here, then I’ll get the girl.”

I’m thinking of disagreeing, thinking of telling him I have to be there when it happens. But that’d be foolish right now. I need healing, and Raphael’s always been the quickest at that.

“All right, fine. Let’s go.”

He nods. We depart. Mac looked dead last I checked.

This world has changed since the war. I can only hope that doing what I’m doing will help save it from its own self-destruction. Although, to be honest, when I look outside at the dystopia that has come, I can’t help but lose hope entirely.

We’re hanging on a ledge right now. I really hope Man’s fingers don’t get any more tired than they already are.

Short Story: Trenton

22 Aug

Hey everybody! I just thought I’d throw something at you guys real quick. But first, an introduction to this particular piece of writing. I had to do a course in school about a year ago (I was fourteen) wherein I had to make a product and sell it to random people throughout the school. Most people made cookies or some other type of food; I wrote a short story in about four days. I sold quite a few copies and got reviews that ranged from 3/5 to 4/5. So you can call this article a slap in the face to them since you get to read it for free. I hope you enjoy it and if you think I should write the sequel, let me know in a comment. Ladies and gentlemen, here it is (click the link):

Trenton: Part One.

P.S.- If you find any errors, let me know in your review.

My thoughts on Windosill

27 Sep

Okay, I’m just going to come right out and say it. Windosill it the most enjoyable gaming experience I’ve ever had. This game is unbelievably great. What Flower is to the PS3, Windosill is for the PC. Only in my opinion, it has ten times as much meaning and is ten times as creative.

In Windosill, you control a small steam kart (whom I have named Karty (just go with it)) through a small number of puzzles. You might exoect to play a game where you must utilize your skill from the previous level to beat the next, but Windosill is different. Windosill’s puzzle are all comletely different from each other in every way except for one detail, you need a cube, and you have to slide it a hole. How you obtain them in each task however is completely different for each level. And each level is more and more creative every time.

The game is simple, but it’s so magical and so wonderous that you’ll never want to put it down. I probably sound really cheesy when I say that, but it’s just that good. And it’s only $3.00 on Steam here in the US. Oh, and don’t you dare use a strategy guide to solve the puzzles. It will ruin, and I mean ruin, the experience.

Play Windosill now. I promise you it will change the way you look at games, forever.

My favorite character in video games....ish.

My favorite character in video games....ish.