I got a new story idea again. They just keep on flowing in, but I can't find the time or the concentration to sit down and write them. That's why I can only grab a napkin in the rush at work and note down the essentials. Maybe I one day will be able to actually write the books I have in my mind. There's quite a lot of stories now, and it's getting cramped. Makes me frustrated to have them there. Itchy in a way.
The characters never leave, they just become more elaborate and a part of myself. The story line never fades, more and more just gets added on it and unconected lines conect. They grow and grow and I don't know what to do about them anymore. They just multiply >_< I have five stories which belongs in a series, another a bit epic story, a rather funny one, the yaoi one, then now this new story popping into my mind. Not to mention all the shortstories or fanfiction ideas I get. They just flurish in.
And of course we have my main writing project, which keep getting postponed for some weird ass reason. I am just too much tired all the time, but I think now that I start on the new pills I might get a bit more energy. I really hope so. And a bit more stamina, because when I am done with work I don't want to be tired, I want to get home, make a cup of tea and relax in front of the comp with writing. Not shuffle home and fall asleep drooling on the couch until next day when it's work again.
I will manage this though. I want it so bad and I feel I am gathering the strength to. Neil Gaiman is a real inspiration too. Seriously, I need to thank him for so fucking much.
I have finally written the last punctuation on a short story I have been writing on. It's totally ridiculous and has no real meaning what so ever, but I want to put it up here anyway. It's a way to really finish it, to make it "public".
No one is obligated to read it, and I don't expect any feedback either. I just want to put it here. (though of course I would be happy if someone did, but I know it craves a lot to read the stories of people one know.)
Roger and Julian
I don't really origin from a very good neighbourhood. Truth be told, none of us do. After the great depression in 2965, closely followed by the 5th and 6th World War, the entire world structure and the economy broke completely apart.
I could read in my old historybook (which they had optimistically given us) about a time where it had been such things as monarchies. They had even had something called democracy. At least so they claimed in the western parts of the world, but it seemed dubious to me. It was difficult to picture a world where the people could freely vote who was to make their laws, rule their economy and organize their trade.
But, as I said, those were just stories by now. Each and every town or province was ruled by the one family with most money or resources. The Family stood for collecting all the taxes (as they conveniently had chosen to call it), decided on the laws, followed through with the punishments, recruited minions and patrolled the schools. In other words; they organized everything that would ensure that they controled all of the town’s money.
In Veronica, my province, there were basically two major families competing for the power. Montey and Caper. They had been waring for almost five long generations. I had in secret questioned more than once why they found Veronica to be worth giving so much blood for. They reminded me of two starving dogs fighting for the same piece of rotten meat.
Unfortunately for me, I was born a Montey. This hadn't really concerned me much previously, as it had only meant that I needed to keep away from the Caperdistrict (if I didn’t particularly feel for getting shot or beaten up that is). But no more than three months ago my harmless uncle had managed to get himself killed. This placed Miss Montey on the throne, effectively making me the next in line to wear the Montey "crown".
Something which didn’t interest me the slightest. And more importantly: it kept me from setting a foot outside the house. If I was to follow my mother’s guidlines of course.
I had; however, very few plans of letting a possible assassination keep me from sneaking out and enjoy a night of partying. Simple worries such as still being alive when the sun went up had never bothered me much before. If I lived I lived. If I happened to die, well, there really wasn’t anything I could do about that. My good friend, Ben, kept on insisting I was just a tad bit suicidal, and he kept telling me that he was just testing if I was going safe whenever he emptied my last bottle of alcohol, or popped my last pill.
It was on such a night when I had managed to sneak out and had driven down to the beach with Ben that things began to change.
I was lying on my back, staring up at the grey sky where the stars were supposedly twinkling. As colourful sparkles and dizzying twirls shot across the sky a sneaking suspicion that something more than just regular spirits had been in my last bottle of booze came to me. I lazily rubbed my eyes, quickly giving up as I realized this was just resulting in me getting sand in them.
“I see you’ve tasted Taz’s brew,” said a voice from above. Together with the sparkly colours and the fact that the ground was spinning dizzily underneath me, I became more than just a bit confused.
“Are you God?” I asked weakly, wondering why Ben hadn’t tested my drink this time. If he had, my quite embarrassing meeting with God could have been prevented. God just laughed and sat down on the sand beside me.
“No, I’m not God, you can call me Lian though,” explained the person who was not God.
“Well Lian,” I mumbled, “I’m very sick right now, and if you don’t move I’ll be throwing up all over you.”
But my stomach took a sharp turn before I had the possibility to throw up over Lian, and all the contents came up without asking me first. The only problem was that I was lying on my back and my body was just too numb for me to even consider the thought of turning around. Instead I just lied there choking in my own puke, unable to do a thing about it. Luckily for me though, Lian soon came to the rescue and turned me heroically around. I might have gotten quite a bit of sand in my mouth, but it was certainly better than being declared dead by puke. Lian patted me helpfully on the back.
“There’s a reason why I never touch Taz’s brew,” said Lian meaningfully. “Come now, let’s get you washed off.”
Lian had easily become my new favourite person in the world and I followed willingly as we shuffled down to the water’s edge.
In a normal situation I would never have washed in, or even touched, that water. But I had just met God, or as close to it as I would ever come, and water suddenly didn’t matter as much.
Lian took off his shirt and dipped it in the water before he began washing my face. There was more comfort and care in his touches than there had ever been in my Mother’s.
“Like that,” said Lian smiling, “you don’t look too bad when you’re clean.”
Handing me his half empty bottle of beer that he’d been carrying with him, Lian let me clean my mouth for puke, sand and poisoned spirit.
“Either the alcohol has ruined my sight,” I said, “or then you’ve got pink hair.”
Lian smiled vainly and let his hand ruffle through his pink strands.
“My friends tell me I look ridiculous,” he confessed, “but I like it like this... What do you think?”
I was taken a bit aback by the fact that Lian even cared about my opinion on the matter, but I answered as truthfully as I could.
“I think you’re quite beautiful like that.”
Lian giggled and began picking at his ripped pants.
“What’s your name?” he asked after the blush had more or less disappeared from his cheeks.
“Roger,” I answered. A name which I had never really liked much, “Montey. Roger Montey.”
Lian’s smile faded and he stared at me for quite some time. It was quite uncomfortable.
“How so?” I finally asked stupidly. Then it dawned on me that this Lian had to be a Caper. When this thought finally had settled in, the rest of the pieces in the puzzle fell in place by themselves. Lian was Julian Caper, oldest son of the Caper family’s patriarch.
“Oh damn,” I finally managed to say.
“Yes,” answered Julian, “maybe a bit.”
A good while crawled past while we sat beside each other on the beach and wondered what to do.
“I think I’m supposed to kill you now,” said Julian uncertainly. He didn’t really seem like the guy ideal to kill off his parent’s rivals.
“That’s probably what you should do yeah,” I said, taking a sip of the little beer that was left.
“I don’t really feel like it though,” he said, sounding a bit concerned by it all.
“.... Noo....” I answered slowly and thoughtfully, “it’s really not that much fun...”
“Have you done it?” asked Julian with wide eyes, “have you really killed someone?”
I nodded silently and stared out over the water shimmering with poisoned green in the light from the industrial buildings surrounding it.
“Was it terrible?” Julian kept asking, the pink strands falling down to tickle his face.
“It was pretty bad,” I answered and suddenly felt quite experienced in the ways of the world, “I didn’t hit where I was supposed to, so the bullet went through his left eye and out through the side of his skull. He lived several minutes after that.”
Lian’s brown eyes grew from wide to even wider and his pink lips formed a silent “oh”.
“I don’t want to kill anybody,” said Julian quietly, scratching his leg ponderously. I got a lump in my throat watching him. There was little doubt that some sibling or cousin would get rid of him in the near future. Probably with his father’s concent. Julian wouldn’t amount to much more than a hostage, and thus a loss of money.
The sun had slowly managed to creep up on the hazy sky, and scattered around on the beach lied people drunken dead. Some a bit more dead than others. A plan suddenly hit my slow mind.
“What if I pretend to have killed you, and then committed suicide?”
“Why in the world should we do something like that?” gasped Julian confused. My genius plan seemed a bit less genius as I thought about it. In the end I just shrugged my shoulders.
“Why not?”
“Ok,” answered Julian.
We had, however, no idea where to leave after having rubbed Julian’s shirt in blood and tossed it into the dirty river.
I had hurriedly composed a suicide letter explaining that I had grown tired of all these murders and thus thrown myself in the river too. This note I placed in Ben’s pocket as he lied over a girl he had tried to get to know a bit better during the night. He appeared to have passed out before anything exciting happened though.
We had easily gotten a ride out of Veronica by hitch hiking on the back of an old truck.
“This is a bit like Romeo and Juliet,” giggled Julian while he sat snugly in the crook of my arm.
“Who?” I asked confused, never having heard of these people.
“It’s an ancient story. A good thousand years old actually! It’s about this couple being madly in love, but committed suicide or something, because they couldn’t get each other.”
“That sounds incredibly stupid,” I answered as we watched Veronica turn into an ugly, grey spot in the distance.
I actually started this story second year at upper secondary. Yeah that's how long it takes.
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