Thursday, January 8, 2015

B-day Hooray

   Ive always been more of a giver than a receiver. In honor of this, I decided to write up a quick snippet for my birthday. Its from Olivia’s point of view and takes place just after she arrived at Jareds condo. Enjoy.


Dedicated to my own fat cat, Chaos, who is my favorite birthday gift of all time, and the inspiration for Morris.
Displaying IMG_0175.JPG
(Notice theIm gonna cut you glare.)





 Bang. Bang. 
Olivia 

  Bang. Bang. 
  “Yes!” 
  Bang. Bang. 
  “Oh God, right there!” 
  Bang. Bang. 
  “You’re the fucking king!” 
  Sweet fucking Christ, did the contractors of this building ever hear of insulation? I’ve half a mind to write them a strongly worded letter of complaint, but I’m afraid none of the incompetent bastards will receive it. 
  Bang. Bang. 
  Speaking of bastards, I glare at the wall, and wish I had heat vision so I could melt my way through and incinerate the noisy assholes on the other side or at least maim them enough to get them to stop their fuckfest. It’s been going on forever, how the hell are they still going at it? Okay, it hasn’t been that long, but it was enough for me to clean and patch the hole in my arm where whoever shot me from the window, so that’s still pretty damn long.
  Even while I question the superhuman stamina, that racket is enough to drive anyone up a wall. Normally just the idea of sex would have me rocking in a corner, but the over-the-freaking-top, live-action porno soundtrack makes it ridiculous enough that even I find it obnoxious. Poor Sarah’s been subjected to it for who the hell knows how long, and just the thought of her having to live with this night after night makes me want to avenge her abused eardrums. 
  Bang. Bang. 
  “Mmm, yeah baby. Harder!” 
  That’s the fuck it. I can’t take another minute of this, or I’ll be forced to commit whoricide. And yes, that applies to both parties, the moaner and the banger. 
  Bang. Bang. 
  Especially the goddamned banger. He gets double blame for contributing to the noise factor, but more so for not gagging the bitch he’s on top of for committing crimes against humanity with her ear-piercing wails. If Sarah’s cat wasn’t sitting next to me, being my partner in glaring at the wall containing the offenders, I would have thought he was being skinned alive. But alas, it isn’t Morris, and I guess I can’t leave the guy behind when I make a break for it. I might not have been able to save his mother from suffering the fate of wishful deafness, but I’m here now and the least I could do would be to rescue her obese kitty. 
  I don’t know what they feed the thing, but he’s in the running for being the cat with the heaviest udders. I’m pretty sure cats don’t even have udders, they have nipples, but this cat could prove my theory wrong since I can’t think of another name for the fat sacks that droop from his stomach. I’ll really need to talk to Sarah about his diet before I leave because the poor thing won’t be able to walk soon, but at least I could give him some exercise before I go as payment for providing me with her room for my jail cell. 
  “What’d ya say, boy? How about you and me make a break for it?” I scratch the fluffy beast under his chin, and a hear a purr in response, so I take that as a yes. “Good, me too.” 
  Ignoring the continuous ‘bang, bang’ coming from the neighboring room, I glance around at my options. The door would be pretty easy to pick, and then there’s the window with the fire escape. The door’s ruled out since I don’t know how many people they have out there, and if I’m to infiltrate them to get some answers, then I can’t very well go storming into their territory when I’m being ‘quarantined.’ It could be a test, and I need to pass it for them to trust me enough to spill the goods. 
  For now, the cat’s the only one I trust, but if there were food involved he’d probably slice me to ribbons, so he isn’t my best ally. But a hostage could work just as well, and having an ignorant hostage will be even better. Turning to hide my grin lest the cat catch on, (Christ, I really am bonkers if I think a cat can read motives and understand them), I reach inside my bag and pull out a can opener and some tuna. Meatball’s na├»ve cousin immediately perks up and brushes the length of his body along my arm, and trust me, there’s a lot of body for him to brush. So much that by the time he turns around to rub the other side against me, the can is open and he dives right in. 
  “There’s a good boy,” I say in a friendly voice, allowing him to get three massive bites from the can, before removing it from reach. 
  Morris meows in protest, but I stand up and move toward the window. Setting the tuna down on the windowsill, I push the lock free and pull it open. I close my eyes to relish the fresh breeze that comes pouring in, and open them again just in time to see a black shape out of the corner of my eye. Morris wiggles in preparation of leaping from the nightstand, but I snatch the can from the windowsill just as his paws touch air. His massive weight makes a loud thump when he lands on the floor, and I almost laugh when I think of how that noise could have been a decent competitor if we were to run against the banger next door. Shaking my head, I lean down to give Morris a consolatory pat on the head. 
  “Nice try, fat cat, but you’ll have to be faster next time.” Straightening again, I climb out onto the fire escape, but lean back inside enough to wave the tuna under Morris’s nose. “Come on, if you want it, you’ll have to come get it.” 
  Turning away from Sarah’s window, I check left and right to see which way I should go, trusting that Morris’s love affair with food will tempt him to follow. Seeing as the banger’s to the left, I choose the right. Hopping the railing that separates the escape stairs from a balcony, I glance over my shoulder to see a black shadow stalking me. I drop a chunk of chicken from the sea on the ground as a reward, before scanning the balcony. 
  There’s only one way to go, a double door with curtains blocking the view from both sides, so I take a second to observe what they have for supplies out here. Several barrels with hoses entering and exiting the lids are connected, and by following the chain I can see they lead to a makeshift downspout to collect rain. It’s similar to the one Cory built at our house, but larger to supply more people. The gardens are the same story, constructed to conserve space, but at the same time utilizing as much surface area to produce the most that they can.
  It’s a smart strategy, and it’s been working for them this long, but I’m still not positive that their continued survival is strictly due to accommodation and scavenging. I’ve seen too many people steal and kill to get what they want to just assume that this pack is part of the minority of good left in the world. I need irrefutable proof, and if I see it, then I’ll give them an option to better their chances. If not, they’ll be dead my morning. I may not enjoy killing, but I’d much rather get them before they get someone else, and who better to do it than a fellow monster? 
  “Meow?”
  I glance down at Morris, and then back at the additions made out here, making a decision. The fact that they have this is a sign in their favor. This took hard work, time and consideration; three things Cole’s lackeys don’t possess an inkling of, so they can’t be completely rotten. 
  “Alright, they’re okay for now, so I guess you can have some more.” I crouch down and place the can in front of his paws. His back end plops down at the same time his face dives in, making me laugh. “Easy, I don’t have much more, and I still need you.” 
  “Need him for what?” I startle at voice, but instincts have my hand retrieving the knife from my boot and me spinning around in seconds. My eyes dart around for the source, and I just about snarl when I spot the sidekick’s grinning face in the window off to the left. 
  “It’s just you,” I snarl, reaching down to tuck my knife away. Stupid maybe, but I trust this bastard enough that I don’t need to hold the blade. I could still kill him with my bare hands, but he don’t know that, and it works in my favor if my judgment of him is as screwy as the rest of my brain. 
  “Just me? As if I’m just one of many? That hurts, Olivia, that really freaking hurts.” He lifts a hand to wipe at an invisible tear. “And here I thought you were my friend.” 
  “You’ll get over it,” I tell him with a careless shrug. “Your ego’s too big to die from one tiny jab.” 
  “Tiny?” John pointedly measures me from head to toe, his brown eyes dancing as a wide smirk spreading his lips. “It sure was tiny, and made even smaller when coming from you.” 
  “Watch it, I could kill you from here and make it look like an accident,” I warn, nodding my head at the ground far below his window perch. John follows the move, and his smirk vanishes. 
  “Who let you out?” 
  “I did. Why, is that a crime?” 
  “You aren’t a prisoner,” he says, and I raise a brow. “You’re in quarantine.” 
  “Was in quarantine,” I correct him. “Not that I needed to be in it to begin with. I told your dumbass friend I wasn’t bitten or scratched.” 
  “He’s just being safe. We’ve had people tell us the same in the past, only to find out a few hours later that they were infected when they tried to bite our faces off. One almost got Sarah, but thank God Jared’s a good shot.” Well, when put that way… Still, I don’t like confined spaces, so I can’t forgive them completely. 
  “It’s good to be cautious,” I say to show I won’t hold a grudge against it since it was for a good reason. Doesn’t mean I’ll sit complacently in a locked room for hours on end when I know I’m not sick. 
  “How’d you get out here anyway?” I hike a thumb in the direction I came from, and John leans out the window to see the fire escape. “Are you crazy, what if you missed?” 
  “I didn’t,” I reply, adding a shrug to answer his question about my mental status even if it was just a figure of speech.
  I don’t know if I truly am crazy, or if I just think I am. I’m not the expert on such matters, and I’m too chickenshit to sit through the session with the quack at the compound to find out. Realizing that I’m busy analyzing my own head (as a crazy person would, so I guess I really am) while John’s staring at me, I add on to my answer.
  “It’s not like it was that far of a jump.” I point down at Morris, who’s licked the can clean but is still lapping at the metal as if it will make more appear. “Even he made it, so that should tell you something.” John huffs out a laugh as he shakes his head. 
  “I guess it does.” I nod in agreement. “Do you want to come inside at least? I promise I won’t squeal on you.” 
  “That’s really nice of you,” you scheming son of a bitch, thinking I’m stupid enough to fall for that line. “But I really should get back.” 
  I jerk my chin in the direction of Sarah’s room, all the while thinking that as soon as he pulls his blonde head back inside, I’ll book it down the ladder, rapists be damned. Just how many heard me escape and are waiting inside that room for John’s friendly face to lure me inside before attacking? Five, ten, do I even want to know? Hell fucking no, I won’t go. They’ll have to kill me first, if I don’t hurl myself from the balcony when they get within ten feet. 
  “John?” I hear a woman’s voice call out, drawing my full attention back to the window as opposed to the crazed plans circling my head of turning myself into a bloody pancake on the sidewalk to avoid being someone else’s plaything. John turns away from the window, and footsteps follow. “Who are you talking to?” 
  “No one,” he answers quickly, and I see him push away from the window. “Just myself, you know how I love the sound of my own voice.” 
  “Sure you were,” the woman says, her voice getting louder as she comes closer to the window. 
 “Wait,” John says, just as a face appears where his was just moments before. I only catch a glimpse of sky-high, dark hair before John’s back blocks her from view. “I really need your help with something, Marissa.” 
  “It can wait,” she replies and I can see her hand push his shoulder. 
  “No, it can’t,” he counters, but he’s removed just the same. Dark brown eyes appraise me, before she scowls up at John. 
  “That is not ‘no one.’” 
  Oh shit. She knows who I am, and she’s going to turn me over to Cole. That sweet, innocent face is nothing more than a mask to trick people into trusting her. I guess he’s found new methods of exploiting people’s instincts since even I almost fell for that one. Almost, because I’m already on the move before I hear John shout my name. 
  Morris leaps out of the way with a startled hiss, as I dive over the railing and land hard on the fire escape, my shoulder taking the brunt of the assault. Hissing out a breath from my teeth, I quickly push myself up and ignore the burning in my shoulder as I sprint down the steps. I can hear pounding footsteps and cursing coming from behind me, but it only pushes me to go faster, to use the railing to propel myself around each landing to get to the next set of steps faster. 
  I’m only one flight away before I reach the ladder that leads to the ground and am home free, when I trip on my shoelace. Of all the things to take me down, I didn’t think this would be it. Tim gunning me down in broad daylight, a wheezer herd surrounding me, hurling myself from various heights and surfaces; all of these I’ve thought about and considered, but never a freaking shoelace.
  My mother taught me from the time I learned how to tie my shoes to always make sure my laces are tied up before walking so that I don’t trip, and here I am, twenty years old and have neglected the concept. For that stupidity, I deserve to have the hands clutch my shoulders and pick me up. I deserve whatever fate awaits me because all of that training was for naught if I can’t even keep track of the basics. 
  “Christ, you were like a freaking gazelle,” John says, making sure I’m steady on my feet before removing his hands. I step away and glare at him just the same, more pissed at myself than I am that he’s the one who caught me and is blocking my way. “How the hell’d you move so fast when you’re two feet tall?” 
  “Fuck you.” 
  “Okay, that was mean and I’m sorry, but I wasn’t expecting someone your size to be able to outrun me. It’s kinda embarrassing that I only caught up because you fell.” Thanks for reminding me, douchebag. Want to rub a little more salt in the wound? “You are alright, aren’t you? Just a few bruises and scrapes?” Shaking my head to concentrate on his words, I furrow my brows at him. 
  “Huh?” 
  “I asked if you’re hurt, that was quite the nasty fall you took.” 
  “I’m fine,” I snap, pissed at his fake concern when he’s no doubt planning to participate in whatever horrible things they have planned. 
  “You sure?” 
  “I said I’m fine.” 
  “Good, Jared would’ve killed me if you got away.” So, he’s Tim in this castle of creeps. 
  “Glad I get to see your pretty face another day, then,” I tell him, sarcasm dripping from my every word. John’s eyebrows come together and a wrinkle forms between them in mock confusion, and I gotta give it him, he plays the part well. Well, but I’ve had practice with psychos, and there’s only one of him while there’s eight cracked up versions of me trapped in this one body, so one of them is statistically bound to outsmart him and escape. “I’ll give you one shot.” 
  “One shot for what?” 
  “To try and drag me back, so you better make it count ‘cause you won’t get another chance.” 
  “How the hell do I get myself into these situations?” John moans at the sky as he rubs his forehead. “Look, I’m not trying to drag you back, if you want to go, then go, I won’t stop you. Jared will be pissed, but he’ll get over it. He’s got enough to hold him over for now. At least until he finds the next one, anyway. But you don’t need to worry about that, since you’re leaving.” 
  “Enough what?” I demand, ready to stab this fucker and run upstairs to execute a rescue mission. Was that girl being raped by the banger, but was so well taught that those fake-ass porno noises were forced? Fucking Christ, I was making fun of them while that poor girl was being tortured. 
  “Huh?” 
  “You said he has enough for now, enough of what?” 
  “Oh, strays. He’s a collector. Well, more of a hoarder because he really can’t house as many as he does, but he keeps bringing them back anyway. Doesn’t he, Marissa?” 
  “He does,” a voice says behind me. I turn my body slightly so I can keep John in my line of sight but also bring the woman into focus. She’s of average height, and if I had to guess, around Corys age. “But Jared’s a sweet guy, and can’t seem to stop himself from offering help even if he has none to give. His heart’s big even when he pretends it’s small.” 
  “Pretty words, did you write them down and practice in a mirror?” I ask, leaning back on the railing and appearing bored as my fingers inch their way to the knife holstered underneath my jacket. 
  “No, why do ask?” Marissa asks, her face a look of genuine curiosity, and maybe it is. Maybe she is really curious to see what about her act tipped me off so that she can improve it for the next victim? If so, I don’t plan on giving her pointers. 
  “No reason,” I reply with a shrug, using the shift in my posture to pull the knife from its sheath. I measure the threats, contemplating if I should just push John over the railing or stab him first to make sure he’ll be dead if the fall doesn’t kill him. Probably best to be safe than sorry, and if I do it quick enough, I’ll still have time to kill this Marissa chick before she runs and warns the others. “When did you pair up with Cole?” 
  “Cole?” Marissa repeats with another damn expression trying to trick me. 
  “Yes, Cole, your leader.” 
  “I don’t know who Cole is, but he certainly isn’t our leader.” I wave a hand at her words, not really believing them, but pretending I do. 
  “Fine, you aren’t working for Cole, but I doubt you need him anyway. After all, you’ve got a fortress,” I nod at the building we’re attached to, “Muscle without much going on upstairs…” 
 “Hey!” John protests when I hike a thumb his way, but I ignore him and focus on Marissa since she’s presently the brains of this operation. 
  “…and, how many men was it, John? Ten including or excluding yourself and the lead dick upstairs?” 
  “Including,” he mutters, still ticked that I poked at that precious ego again. 
  “Right, ten men including the ones I met, but I bet it’s the women here that pull rank. Six of them here, and I’ve met some vicious ones, but I bet you’re worse. The sweet, quiet ones are always the ones who stab the hardest and cut the deepest.” I narrow my eyes at her. “What kind are you, the one who does the dirty work or orders others to do it for her?” 
  “N-neither,” she stutters out, appearing flabbergasted. I nod, still playing along to her game. 
  “You’re lower on the totem pole then, but don’t you worry, bringing me back to him should gain you some brownie points.” 
  “May I interrupt and ask what the fuck is going on?” John questions, and is trained enough that he even raises his hand to do it. 
  “Sure, but first I’d like you to hazard a guess,” I say, waving my unarmed hand at him as if giving him the floor. 
  “Um, I saw you on the balcony,” he starts, and I nod to say that he did indeed catch me on the balcony because I was paying more attention to my ‘hostage’ than my surroundings. Yet another mistake, but one I won’t make if I get out of this alive. “We were talking, exchanging some playful banter, if you will?” I shrug, he can call it what he wants, he’ll be dead in a matter of minutes anyway, so I might as well let him win that small victory. “Then Marissa came in.” 
  “And then Marissa came in,” I confirm, glaring at the woman in question. 
  “Holy shit, this is all about jealousy,” John says, making both mine and Marissa’s heads snap to him in confusion. “I’m right, aren’t I? You were playing coy by saying you had to get back and were going to make me work for it, but then Marissa came in and spoiled your plan.”
  He slaps his thigh as if he’s just put this amazingly complicated puzzle together, and I raise a brow at Marissa to ask‘is he for real?’ To which she replies in girl talk with an ‘unfortunately yes’ type of shrug, making me almost smile until I realize that just because John’s as dumb as a stack of bricks, doesn’t mean that she is.
  “You really don’t have to be jealous, John continues. I would have tried talking you into coming inside anyway.” He steps closer, not close enough to touch me, just enough to encroach on my space and lowers his head to my ear before continuing in what he probably thinks is a seductive whisper. “I can be very persuasive.” 
  “And I can be very violent,” I whisper back, my tone purposely throaty as I press the tip of my knife to his abdomen. Not enough to sink into his skin, just make its presence known and his body to freeze. “You should have just let me go, but none of you give up. You never fucking give up, and I have all this worthless blood on my hands because you’re all too freaking stupid to use your brains and tell your boss ‘no.’ It’s such a simple word, too. Go on, say it with me, ‘no.’” He tries taking a step back, but I follow him, making it so that his back’s pressed to the railing, but ensuring my back won’t be to Marissa. “It’s easy, just two letters, N-O.” 
  “N-no,” he says, and I grin at him. 
  “Very good, now say it again.” 
  “No,” he repeats a little louder. 
  “Good boy, I bet you’ve never heard that word before. Or maybe you have, and just ignored the girl when you had her on her back.” 
  “I’m not a fucking rapist,” John retorts, his tone forceful, and he even dares trying to push himself upwards, but I put more pressure on the knife to show that any movement from his end will equal hurt. 
  “No, you probably just like to watch. I’ve met a few of those, too, and they’re no better. Just because they aren’t the one doing the touching doesn’t mean they’re no less responsible. If anything, it makes them worse because they did nothing to help when they were in the best position to do so.” I lean into him enough that he has to grip the railing to keep from tipping over.  
  “John!” Marissa yells, and he must be her favorite pet since her tone sounds frantic. 
  “It’s alright, Marissa, we’re just talking,” John tells her, locking his eyes with mine, and white knuckling the rail. “Aren’t we, Olivia?” 
  “Of course,” I agree. 
  “Why don’t you go inside? We’ll finish this and be up in a bit.” 
  “She’s not going anywhere,” I counter upping the ante by pulling a second knife from inside my jacket and pressing it to his throat. “Are you, Marissa, if that even is your real name?” 
  “It is,” she says. “And I’m not going anywhere without John.” 
  “Good, because John here wouldn’t like seeing hell alone, now would he?” John shakes his head. “Didn’t think so, it’s such a scary place. Trust me, I’ve been there, and I’m not going back. You hear me, I’m not fucking going back!” 
  “I h-hear you, now put the knife down,” he says. I shake my head furiously. “Please, Olivia, you’re scaring Marissa.” 
  “She doesn’t know what scared is.” 
  “She does, and you’re the one doing it.” 
  John nods for me to look, going as far as to nick his skin on the blade, and even when my better judgment tells me not to do it, I caution a quick peek at her. And regret I did. Her eyes are red rimmed with actual tears streaming down her cheeks as she stares at me like I’m a monster. I snap my head back around to see John, pinned against a railing, a trail of blood leaking down his neck and with two knives in killing positions but still remaining still even when he has the strength to overpower me if he really wanted to. If he really wanted to. 
  If he really wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t he have done so already? He’s had plenty of opportunities to do so in the last ten minutes, plenty of opportunities yesterday and plenty of chances last night when we stayed at Aunt Cuntface’s house. He even tried covering for me being on the balcony by blocking me from Marissa’s view, and here I am holding him at knife point and scaring some poor girl I’ve never laid eyes upon. I truly am a monster. 
  “I-I’m sorry,” I say, immediately lowering my weapons and stepping far away from John. “I just…” 
  I can’t even think of words to try and excuse my actions because there’s no excuse that would be sufficient. Neither of them did anything wrong, I’m just fucking psychotic and think the entire world’s out to get me. They aren’t, only a select few of the whole are, and I need to stop treating them all like they’re the enemy. 
  “You were just scared,” John finishes, slowly straightening as if worried I might attack him for moving too fast. The thought makes me drop my eyes because I put that mistrust in him, and I deserve it. 
  “I’m sorry,” I repeat the worthless words, but they’re all I got. 
  “You don’t have to apologize,” he tells me. “I don’t know what we did to scare you, but we’ll try not to let it happen again.” 
  I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all, there he is, trying to make me feel better when I just threatened to kill him when he’s offered me nothing but friendship. Friendship that I threw right back into his face the moment I had doubts instead of talking it through. This is why I avoid people. All people, because I’m too fucked up to trust my own judgment. My paranoia fills my head with doubts, doubts I spin into guilt, and guilt I turn in death sentences without a second’s hesitation. 
  How would I have felt after John’s lifeless body hit the pavement and I heard Marissa’s blood curdling scream? A real scream of pain and terror; the same kind that came from me when Cole killed Travis mere feet away from me. A scream that I would have caused and had someone wishing my excruciating death like I do for that monster. Or should I say fellow monster? 
  “I’m just gonna…” I motion at the stairs. 
  “No you aren’t, now get your tiny ass back upstairs,” John says, acting as if I didn’t just threaten his life. 
  “No, I really think I should go.” I glance over near Marissa’s feet, too cowardly to get another look at her face. “I’m sorry I scared you.” 
  “It’s okay, I’ll get over it. My libido wouldn’t have liked you if you followed through with it, but you didn’t, so we’re good.” 
  “So glad you would have been heartbroken over my death,” John says, with humor in his voice. Christ, these people may be more fucked up than I am. How the hell can they make jokes right now? Do they not understand the severity of what just happened? I threatened to kill him, not give him a freaking paper cut. John must see the confusion on my face, because he shrugs. “We’re pretty resilient; it takes more than one little threat to knock us off our game. And I do mean little.” 
  “You are a dick,” I tell him, but he just grins at me, and I have to fight an answering one of my own. 
  “I am a dick, and I do have quite the magnificent one, too.” John shakes his head and sighs. “It’s just too bad that you aren’t interested in testing it.” He furrows his brows as he looks at me. “You sure you aren’t interested? It really is quite the specimen.” 
  “I’m good, but thanks.” 
  “Your loss,” he says with a careless shrug. 
  “And my gain,” Marissa adds, blowing a kiss at John. 
  He mimes catching the kiss and tucking it into his pocket, all the while I stare at the pair of them wondering what planet I just landed on. On what planet would a woman, who’s blatantly interested in a man like she is in John, indifferently stand there while he tries coercing another woman into sex? It may be a joke, but still. It’s madness, complete and utter madness. But maybe it’s the madness I need? Maybe I need to surround myself with these crazy people so that I appear less so? Or at least I won’t recognize my own crazy because I’ll too busy observing theirs and wondering what the fuck is wrong with them that I won’t care what’s wrong with me. What a refreshing idea, I just wonder how well it will actually work. Guess there’s only one way to find out. 
  “I better get back inside before the hoarder finds out I’m gone and replaces me with six more.” 
  “Awful high opinion of yourself,” John says with a smirk. 
  “Nah, if I had a high opinion, I'd have said he needed more like double that to replace me. Six is lowballing.” John laughs, and points at me while looking at Marissa. 
  “I think he’s finally met his match, what do you think?” 
  “We’ll see,” she says. 
  Those same eyes that were teary and terrified moments ago are now measuring my worth for some weird ass competition with John. Shaking my head at the pair of them, I head back upstairs, more than willing to listen to the banger with Sarah’s fat cat for company than sit here and try analyzing the psyche of these two whackos. Like I said, these people are fucking crazy, and I’m certifiable for deciding to stick around.

The End, for now.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Progress

Sorry for the delay, but Submerge has turned from a novella into a full length novel. It's taking time to complete, but it's getting there. Will update as soon as I'm closer to the publication date.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Bonus Scene

   Still alive here, just working hard to complete Submerge. To give you guys a little tid bit to chew on, I decided to write up a quick scene from before the invasion in Jareds point of view. Once you read Submerge, youll understand it.



Bonus Scene:

December 2012
“UFOs and Shit”
Jared

“Hey, Jared, get a load of this,” my obnoxious best friend says.
“John, I swear to god, if it’s another porn site, I’m putting child blockers on.”
“Just shut up, and come here.” Rolling my eyes heavenward, I drag my ass over and plop down in the chair beside him.
“What is it this time? Another guy getting beamed in the balls? A kid high on laughing gas? Screaming goats?”
“No, this,” John says, pointing at the screen. Following his finger, I see a paused video.
“What is it?”
In answer, John presses play, and the video moves. The scene shows a big brick building and people running out of it. All are wearing grey suits, and some of them are covered in blood. I recognize it from a breaking news report last week. There was a riot at the Cancer Institute, and over a hundred people were killed.
“I already saw this,” I tell him.
“Yeah, but you didn’t see this,” John says, sliding the bar on the bottom of the page to reveal another paused video. Clicking it, I hear someone talking.
‘Whoa, what the fuck?’ A guy asks, and the camera zooms in a bit. The shaky picture shows the people still pouring out of the building. ‘Did she answer yet?’
‘No, it keeps going to the voicemail,’ another guy answers.
‘Keep trying,’ the first one says.
‘She might still be inside,’ the guy says, sounding frantic. The camera dips down a second, and we see a shot of sneakers, but can hear the voices clear enough.
‘You aren’t going in there.’
‘The fuck I’m not,’ the second one retorts, the camera jostles as they struggle.
‘Calm the hell down, she may not even be in there.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘No, but running in and getting yourself killed solves nothing. Use that goddamned brain of yours and think. Visiting hours ended before the riot broke loose, so she could have gotten out. And she’s smart, so if there was trouble, she’d either get out, or find a safe spot to hole out in.’
‘She might not have had the chance,” the second one insists. ‘She could be dead right now.’
‘She’s not.’
‘How the fuck do you know?’
‘Because my sister doesn’t go down that easy.’ The camera returns to the building. ‘Keep trying her phone.’
Footsteps walk away, but you can hear the guy talking into the phone in the background begging someone named Livi to answer the phone, while the shot swivels to catch the scene in front of him. Spotting more people coming out of the building, it zooms in, and this time instead of focusing on the clothing, it goes to the faces. Red eyes and blood smears around the people’s mouths.
‘We are so fucked.’ The screen goes black, before the replay symbol pops up in the middle.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask.
“That is a low budget sci-fi film,” John answers. “And if that shit wasn’t good enough, they included some B movie synopsis on the bottom.” He scrolls down and reads aloud some of the text in the blog post. “What I’m about to tell you might sound crazy, but it’s the truth’…blah blah blah… ‘There was no riot at Cancer Research…’ Where is it, oh here, listen to this peach. ‘Healthy volunteers were murdered in cold blood, while the volunteers who reacted badly to the treatment being administered to them, turned cannibalistic.’ As if someone will believe that crock of shit.” John clicks the comment section and starts typing. “I too have witnessed the goings on at the Cancer Institute. After fighting off droves of cannibalistic creatures with my bare hands, I went and had cocoa with Mr. and Mrs. Clause.” He presses the post button, and his comment pops up under his screen name Snakie10291.
“There, that oughta show them, UFO believing nutcases,” John says, leaning back in his chair.
“I don’t think they were talking about UFOs,” I tell him.
“No, but zombies are no better.” I just nod at him, because obviously something happened that day. Do I think it was zombies, no, but I think it was more than what they’re telling us, which is jack shit. “Don’t tell me you believe this.” He waves a hand at the screen, and I shake my head.
“‘Course not, but don’t you think it’s a little weird that they haven’t said anything else?”
“They did, it was a riot,” he replies.
“But that’s all they said, John.”
“Whatever, these people are douchebags.”
“You don’t think it’s a girl?” I ask, glancing at the screen name. “Jaded Psyche sounds like it would be a chick to me.”
“So? She must be a dog if she sits on her computer all day spouting this psychobabble.” I roll my eyes at him. “Besides, I’m not convinced it’s a girl at all, the voices were definitely male.”
“But they were looking for a woman,” I counter. “Maybe they found her?”
“You’re reading into this too much,” he tells me. “But if it’ll make you feel better, I promise to apologize to this ‘girl’ if I ever come across her.” He holds up a finger to state his conditions. “But only if she’s hot.” There’s John’s logic for ya, oh well, he’s a shallow fuck, but he’s like a brother to me. Shutting the webpage, he spins his chair to face me. “Well, I’m done with this, so we going out or what?”
“Yeah, just give me a minute to get dressed.”
When I hear the door click shut behind him, I reopen the internet icon and check the browsing history. Seeing the blog site, I reopen and star it for future reference. Jaded Psyche may not be telling the truth, but at least they’re talking.
Dressed and sprayed with enough cologne to last, but not suffocate the opposite sex, I leave my room and thoughts of the world’s problems behind. Walking down the hallway, I see my dad’s office light on, and as much as I want to keep walking, I force my feet to pause outside the doorway. It’s not enough to be seen, but enough to silently beg him to invite me in.
“Jared?” Dad asks.
Arranging my face into some sort of mask to contain my excitement, I peer around the door frame, and glance at the man behind the desk. Brown hair in disarray as if he’s run his fingers through it repeatedly in frustration, reading glasses perched low on his nose, and papers in both hands, he lifts his eyes to me.
“Shut the door, please,” he waves a hand. “I can’t focus with all that noise.”
It’s then that I hear the music drifting down from Sarah’s room. Swallowing my disappointment, I nod and pull his office door shut. Squeezing the knob hard, I wish I could crush it along with the conflicting feelings bouncing around inside.
“Jared.” Opening my eyes, I follow the voice to see my mom smiling at me with a basket of laundry in her arms. “John’s waiting for you, honey, aren’t you going out?”
“Yeah,” I say with a smile I don’t feel. “Just checking in with Dad before I go.” Her smile loses some of its shine, but she shakes her head.
“Well, go on then,” she says, tilting her head for me to go by. “The night is young, you still have time to go find her.”
“Find who?”
“A good one,” Mom answers. “Once you find her, treat her right, give her all your love, and be happy.”
“No can do,” I tell her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Because I already found her.”
“Jared!” John shouts. “Come on, you lazy bast-“
“John,” Mom scolds.
“Lazy bastion,” John revises. “I said bastion.”
“Sure you did,” she says wryly, turning back to me. “Be good.”
“I’ll try,” I say, giving her a grin that belies my response. Joining John in the front entry, I grab a coat and we head out.
“Be good, Jarry,” John mocks when we step into the elevator, and I punch him on the shoulder.
“Please, you’re the one who pretends to be an angel.” I motion at his blonde hair and Hershey chocolate eyes. “It’s the light hair, it convinces them that you’re innocent, while they look at me as if I’m the Antichrist.”
“Maybe if you’d smile for once, they wouldn’t think that.”
“Oh, I smile,” I tell him. “It just happens to come in addition to me cumming.”
“Somehow, I don’t doubt that,” John mutters with a shake of his head. I shrug, when I find something worth smiling about, then maybe my lips will find a purpose for curling upward. Until then, they’ll remain in a perpetual scowl.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

New Blurb for Surge

The following blurb was submitted for a contest, I'm trying to decide whether to use this one, or the old one as the description for the novel. Feedback would be great.

   Boy meets girl, girl holds boy at knife point. It's an average meeting, I would think, when protection means survival. But sometimes too much protection works against you. Brick walls encased in steel, with an electric fence surrounding it, tends to put off most people, but not one as stubborn as Jared Benson. He's not perfect, he's immature, mouthy, and referred to as a 'sullen bastard.' Not the most lovable of descriptions, but hey, he never asked to be a white knight. Olivia, on the other hand, never asked for a knight at all. She'd rather this knight fell off his horse and was trampled by hooves, but alas, it's not meant to be.

   Stubbornness clashes with defiance. Pursuit with retreat. Cement meet jackhammer, because Jared's made it his personal mission to get to the core of Olivia by any means necessary.

   Surge is a story about forging out a life when there's seemingly nothing left. When the world around you crumbles, you have to pick up the rubble, piece by piece, and re-glue it to start anew. Sometimes the glue is through physical means, the ability of defending yourself to survive against the odds. And sometimes, it's through things that are less tangible, like love or trust.

   Jared and Olivia are from opposite worlds. One where the monsters lurk out in the open, the other where the monsters hide in the shadows. Together, they heal from both physical and emotional scars, and find love in the unlikeliest of places. It's a journey with many ups and downs, twists and turns, laughs and cries, but when it comes to a close, you'll be begging them for an encore.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Discount on Surge

    From now until March 2nd, Surge is discounted by 33% on Smashwords. Just use this code to receive your discount: TN89A
Link to Smashwords:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/398348