Creative Writing

A collection of fiction and roleplayed tales written by our members and friends. [Public]

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Creative Writing

Postby Lanaro Tashnel » Fri Dec 23, 2005 9:54 pm

This past semester in English, one of our projects was a creative writing. We could write about whatever we wanted and there was absolutely no length requirement. The only condition was that our story had to be critiqued by the whole class. It was definitly an amusing assignment and everyone one of us in my class grew a lot as writers. Yall show try it sometime<!--EZCODE EMOTICON START :) --><img src= ALT=":)"><!--EZCODE EMOTICON END--> <br><br>Anywho, here is my story. Btw, pay close attention. You don't want to miss anything<!--EZCODE EMOTICON START ;) --><img src= ALT=";)"><!--EZCODE EMOTICON END--> <br><br><!--EZCODE CENTER START--><div style="text-align:center">to forget is to live</div><!--EZCODE CENTER END--><br><!--EZCODE CENTER START--><div style="text-align:center">to forget is to die</div><!--EZCODE CENTER END--><br><br>        Austin was asleep – comfortable, relaxed and completely unconscious. He loved sleep. He loved dreams. It gave him the gift to be absent of all life’s troubles for the few hours that felt like a few seconds. He only wished that he could sleep walk throughout the whole day so he could feel numb throughout life. However, his dream – like all dreams – wasn’t real. <br>        He was dreaming about a pristine beach with glistening ocean blue water, rough golden sand, and warm refreshing sunlight. He was wrapped up in his perfect dream – his perfect vacation. Then, persistent flashes of light glazed across his eyes, causing him to come to semi-consciousness. Austin never liked his sleep to be interrupted. Disgruntled, he snorted and turned over to avoid the light in his eyes. However, he turned too far and felt the bed pull out from under him as he fell onto the floor. <br>        Uttering a short moan, Austin slowly pried his eyes open realizing that it was futile to try sleep again. Dazed, he stood up, yawned, and scratched his greasy black hair. After a few seconds, Austin realized that he did not recognize where he was. He glanced around in confusion, trying to sight something familiar.<br>        He soon discovered that he was not in his house, but some sort of moving train. Looking around with squinted eyes, Austin saw decrepit plastic benches, floors lined with dust and debris, and cold metal walls. The train was antiquated and obviously close to reaching retirement. Outside through the window, Austin saw that the train was moving through a two-faced city. One side was a modern city, fabricated by sophisticated skyscrapers that looked like shiny shards of glass reaching into the skies. Each building had its own unique architecture and clearly had been built in the past few years. The other side of the city was littered with aged, run-down houses. Austin was far from home. Very far.<br>        Ahead of him were four somber men in blue over worn jumpsuits lined up at the train’s door. They all held blank stares and did not speak a word like robots awaiting to hear instruction. Looking down, Austin noticed that he was also wearing one of the blue jumpsuits. Bewildered, Austin ran to one of the men who were continuing their blank stares and asked, “Excuse me. Where are we? What are we doing here? How the heck did I get here?”<br>        One of the men turned his head towards Austin and said casually, “Heh, don’t we ask that everyday?” <br>        The train whistled and began slowing down. When the train stopped, the doors opened and the men in jumpsuits walked out the door. Austin followed the men out feeling that it would be better than sitting alone in the train. Besides, he wanted answers. He stepped out through the door and found himself in an abandoned train station. The walls were cracked, the roof had holes, and newspapers freely rolled around floor. <br>        Upon smelling the bitter stench of the outside air, Austin was immediately greeted by what seemed to be impatient policemen. Their dark refined uniforms, fully equipped with gas masks and electrified beating batons, instilled an aura of fear and power over others around them. The guards pushed the men from the train around, herding them like livestock. The orders under their gas masks caused them to have the same deep, unhuman tone. “Pick up the box correctly!” one of the guards said as he hit one of the men in the back with a baton. “Move along, citizen,” one guard ordered Austin as he pointed to a gate dubbed “rehabilitation center.” <br>        Having no choice but to obey the policeman, Austin proceeded to the barb-wired gate. Upon entering, a holographic image conjured from the air in front of the old arrival/depart sign. The image was of an old grey haired man in white overcoat. With an optimistic voice and a encouraging smile, the man began speaking, “Welcome citizens to City #32. You have been qualified and hand-selected to live and work in this wonderful city for the better of not only your government, but for your country. We appreciate your talents, and we encourage you to work as productively as your fellow citizens. As we continue on towards a perfect communal society, please keep in my mind our rules. First, follow all instructions by authorities. Second, never question authorities. We are here for you, and you are here for us. Thank you for your cooperation citizen, and welcome again to City #32. May our city flourish and be prosperous.” <br>        After the speech, Austin looked around the rehabilitation center and saw there were a few other citizens scattered around the large opened area. One man was sitting at a broken down picnic table, another was wandering back and forth muttering to himself, and two others were smoking nonchalantly in a corner of the room. Guards stood next to other gates inside the center, each holding different titles above the door such as “mind cleansing” and “physical reconstitution”.<br>        Austin turned his ear to the man muttering to himself. He could hear the faint murmur of the man saying, “The trains depart, but they never come back. They jus- just, depart. Where d-do-do they go? Where do they com-come from? They depart…”<br>        One of the men smoking commented to Austin saying, “Don’t worry about him. He’s here for psychological modification. He’ll soon enough be sane again…you’re not from around here are you?”<br>        Austin replied, “No, no I’m not. Do you know what is go-”<br>        “Unfortunate,” the man interrupted. “How unfortunate…”<br>        There was a brief pause as Austin tried to reason why it was not good for him to be new to the area. After coming to no conclusion, he asked, “Wait, why is that unfortunate?”<br>        The only reply he received was from a guard at one of the gates. “You! Citizen, come with me,” he said in the deep voice. The hairs on the back of Austin’s neck stood up as he proceeded over to the guard.        <br>        The man sitting alone at the picnic table whispered to Austin as he walked by saying, “Don’t drink the water. They put something in it to make you forget.”<br>        Though bewildered at the man’s comment, Austin continued walking towards the gate. The guard said to him “Follow me,” and they went through an untitled door. The door shut behind them and they walked down a dark cemented corridor. The fluorescent lights that lined the low roof were dull and some began to flicker. To their right, they passed by metal doors every few steps. It was silent.<br>        The guard stopped at door 206 and put his hand on the wall. A faint red glow could be seen around the guards palm, and a few seconds later it turned green. “Access granted” could be heard as the door suddenly shot up revealing a disturbing room.<br>        The tiled floor was covered in dried pools of blood. There was an empty black leather chair in the middle of the room and numerous devices and instruments laying on a tray. Sit down, citizen,” the guard said forcefully. Instinctively, Austin turned around to run out the door, however, the door had disappeared and been replaced by a brick wall. He was trapped.<br>        “Sit down!” the guard ordered at Austin impatiently, the tone deeper and more formidable than before. He took out his baton, flipped the power to high, and began to beat Austin on the back – completely incapacitating his nervous system. Then, the guard pulled him across the floor and threw him into the chair. Essentially paralyzed, the only thing Austin could do was frantically glance his eyes around the room. He could not scream. The halls were silent. No one could help. <br>        The guard took out a needle filled with a thick, murky liquid. Austin could sense the sinister smile under the mask of the guard as he muttered “It’s time to be reformatted, citizen. Welcome to city #32.” He then lifted the needle up and brought it closer to Austin’s neck. Closer. Closer. And closer…<br><br>        “Noooooo!” screamed Austin as he quickly sat up in bed, soon realizing that it was all a dream; a dream feeling so distant and so close at the same time. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sat still for a few seconds with his eyes wide open, thinking back on the horror. He blinked out his daze and wiped the sweat off his face as his wife walked in.<br>        “Good morning honey,” she said cordially, “Would you like some breakfast?”<br>        “I just had…the most awful dream,” Austin replied as he continued staring at the wall.<br>        She cocked her head to the side and then said, “Well, tell me about it at the table. I made home-made waffles with biscuits and gravy – you’re favorite.”<br>        Austin blinked out of his daze, walked into the kitchen, and sat down at the table. He needed breakfast quickly. He wanted to taste something familiar – something from home – to distract his mind away from his dream that seemed so real. When the plate reached the table, Austin dove right in. Each bite of breakfast and each gulp of water numbed him and made him feel more at peace. When he finished eating, he finally felt back in reality. “So, what was your dream about anyway?” his wife asked him curiously while doing the dishes.<br>        Austin replied, “What dream?”<br> <p><!--EZCODE CENTER START--><div style="text-align:center"><!--EZCODE LINK START--><a href=""><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src=""/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END--></a><!--EZCODE LINK END--></div><!--EZCODE CENTER END--><br></p><i></i>
Lanaro Tashnel

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