Category: Writers Block
I want to try something. I want to see if all you zoners can write a story with me if I start it. Give it a go.
She walks alone through the forest, not knowing where she is going. She just wants to get away from the chaos of city life. The moon is bright, but the thick canapy of leaves above her blocks out most of its light. She is wearing a knee-length dress and flat sandals. The bushes scratch at her bare armes and legs, but she is numb to it. She is caught up in her own thoughts.
After a while, she realises that she hadn't noticed a persistent sound to her right. It was the kind of sound which enters a person's subconscious but is only detected when they start taking notice of the world around them. Someone, or something, was keeping pace with her, travelling parallel on the otherside of the dense vegitation.
It made the small hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. She blinked, bringing herself out of her thoughts and glanced around, but she couldn't see anything. She stopped to listen, but whatever was following her had stopped too.
then she looked backed to see what was following but it had disuperd
She took a breath and started walking again.Again she heard the sound. At first it had been on her right, but now she heard it on her left.
She looked around and didn't know what the noise was. She kept walking and walking to figure where the noise was comming from.
A moment later something grabbed her ancles and pulled her down. She fell flat on her back. She let out an ear-piercing scream, but it was cut short by a large something being pressed in to her mouth.
She looked up. An ugly black figure stood above her, wrapped in twisting, haunting gray shadows. Its enes were red and dull, the kind of color that makes your eyes ache. She couldn't breathe. Suddenly, something took the figure from behind, brought it up, and threw it against a tree.
She looked up. Standing above her was another black figure, seven and a half feet tall with large, deep green eyes. For a long moment, both of them stared at each other in absolute silence.
Words shaped themselves inside her head: I am Dh%er. I can not speak your language; my people speak telepathically. We have been living underground for millennia, waiting for the right human to come along. That is why we have allowed you to see us, even tape us, thousands of times. I believe you are the right person, the one we are seeking, our messenger.
*eyes, not enes. stupid computer braille.
She was lifted on something that felt as light as air and carried to a strange place.
When she was lifted her eyes somehow were shut tightly, when she was able to open them again she saw more figures like the one who was standing ubbove her before.
She tryed to speeck, but when she opend her mouth nothing happend.
words then began to fill in her head once more:
"as i sed, we speeck via pelitethkly.. So to comunicate with us, all you must do is think the words, and we will receve them and no what you are saying."
In a panic, disjointed, half-formed thoughts spun in her head. Calm down, she thought frantically. This was easier said than done, considering the substance on which she rested.
"Where am I?" she thought, looking up at the first showed figure.
"We will take you to Lord Zontag. He will answer all your questions. Eat." This last proclimation was followed by the second creature bringing her a small, shalow gourd which contained a thick, porige-like substance made of grains and fruit.
"I am not having this" she thought to herself, "there is just no way I am having this!"
"Whoever this Lord Zontag is, I'm not going to see him to be captured, or tortured, or whatever!!! I'm going home! How the hell am I going to get home? Take me home, you brutes!"
"hey now." one of them thought at her, "We're not going to hurt you. You're ok."
You're not going to hurt me? Yeah right, that guy before you didn't look like he wanted to have a tea party. I don't know what you are or what you want, but I'm just a simple girl, who at this moment wish to go home thank you.
"We are no more than half-real spirits with little substance. We're in a mess and we think you can help us," one of the figures thought at her.
"All except for me," a voice said as a substantial figure stepped from the shadows. He was tall and muscular, but not ugly.
"Galon's ears pricked up and he tensed at a half heard sound. "Would you relax?" came the voice of Eric from his right. The pair stood to the side of the entrance to the underground place where the girl had been taken. They were concealed from view to anyone on the path leading up to the entrance and the entrance itself. Side-by-side they stood, Galon straining his senses for the smallest disturbance, Eric's gaze fixed on the circle of blackness the girl and her transport had disappeared into.
After several minutes of this, the two loosened up. "You think they'll be coming out again soon?" Galon asked as they stepped out onto the path and were fully visible for the first time. Physically, they could have been (and actually were) twins. Both stood at average height for the young adults they were, both had slim and toned physiques, both had friendly looking faces, though Galon's expression bore a hint of solemnity and foreboding.
Fashionably, they were as different as two brothers could be.Eric wore black and blue sneakers with blue jeans and a black shirt that read "Jesus loves you, but nobody else does". His hair fell to his shoulders and was held in place by a peace of nondescript string. He wore a stud in his eyebrow.
His brother carried himself with more composure, perhaps to make up for his strange manner of dress. Scuffed engineer boots were mostly covered by ragged black pants held together with safety pins in several places. He wore a black shirt with a skeleton on the front, and all topped off by a long black leather coat. His hair hung to the middle of his back. He seemed the more serious of the two.
"You think she's alright, Gaylord?" Eric asked with a smile that was supposed to irritate his brother.
"It's Galon." Galon replied. "They don't want to hurt her. They want to make her into a messenger or scribe of some sort. Perhaps to bring forth threats to the humans of this part of the world."
"You're saying they're all pissed off at having to live underground?" Eric pressed.
Galon shrugged. "I don't know. But we can't do anything stupid just now. They have a girl."
"She was hot." Eric joked. "I'd hit that. Would you?"
Galon sighed and lit a cigarrette. "They're nod bad." he began after a drag or two. "They do however have it in their black ugly heads that they're better than us. Pisses me off."
"What do you think her bra size was?"
Galon elbowed his brother. "This is serious, Eric."
"So am I." Eric replied."
MEANWHILE:
The girl's name was actually Myah. She was tall and thin, somewhere between 16 and 18. She was of mixed race; her father was Jamaican, her mother was Puerto Rican. She had long curly hair she liked to wear in a long braid down her back. She had deep brown eyes, a long face, and a sparkling smile. Raised in a strict Catholic home, she was always made to dress in nothing less than dresses and flat sandals. Nothing revealing, nothing trendy. Even though she was technically speaking, a city girl, the city life had proven to be not what she desired for herself. She loved nature; trees, animals, flowers. She loved the night , uninterrupted by streetlights and towering apartment buildings. So tonight she was seeking some sort of refuge, a place to get away from it all. She was not expecting to be abducted by these... Aliens? Yeah, aliens.
She found herself being carried through long corridors and vast cavernous rooms. The walls, floor and ceilings were made almost entirely of rock. There were protruding ledges and jagged random rock formations that occasionally scraped her face and arms as she was carried by. The creatures didn't even seem to notice. _I just want to go home. She though. _No, you must help us. The second figure said. _But I wanna go home. I miss my brothers and sisters, and my mom and dad. _You must do as we say. The first figure said. _And what if I don't? What if I jump ff this thing? What if I run away? She asked. Silence enveloped her. Nobody said anything for a while. Then, one figure sighed and said...
"You would die," e stated simply. "This substcnce, (as you call it) is called xantol, and it is the reason you are still alive. It takes on the matter of air, light , and water."
"you have to stay here."
Wow, what an adition!!!
Yeah, I think we're all dead here.
They entered an echoing cavern. White pillars marched up its sides. Globes of white light hung in the domed ceiling.
A solitary globe of light hung at the end of the hall, outlining the single black figure standing there. He was of imposing height--seven foot eight, and incredibly powerful. He had black fur like the others, but it was better kept. His eyes were gold, and as she looked in to them she realized they had no whites. And it suddenly struck her that this ugly figure who so resembled Bigfoot, standing there alone, proud and noble and composed, held some essence of otherworldly, untamed beauty. Sure, he was ugly, but something about him was compelling, elusive, _different.
He said, I am Lord Almiran Montag. You humans call my kind "Sasquatch" and "Bigfoot," names ill-befitting to beings such as ourselves. No, no; we are not better than you. We are all equal. I merely wish for our separate races to coexist in harmony.
Why not send for Viviana? She always wanted to be ... like this.
Oh, Viviana is a messenger. The thing is, you can't _tell the humans.
Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.
Lord Montag pointedly ignored that. But you can begin to spread your message--our message, the message of harmony. This existence is a melody--you must choose to harmonize or to add to the discord. It is not my place to tell you what must be done, though I know you can carry it out in any way you see fit. That is the place of the Lilaen, Lumarya.
Listen to me, the girl thought angrily. I don't care. Get me home now, God damn it!
Very well. Lord Montag's voice was heard clearly. and she was suddenly back on the ground with the cold slimy thing again being forced into her mouth.
Oh Jesus fucking Christ, she thought, I'll be part of the damn creatures' melody, if this will just leave me alone, and if they'll send me home!
"I thought you'd see it our way." the lord's voice continued as she was now back safely in the midst of the strange creatures.
"What...how'd"
"An illusion." came the reply.
"We realize experiences need not be real for humans to feel that they are." The girl, whose name I forgot, felt irretated as she relaxed on the cloud, or whatever it was she was suspended above the ground on. Bracing herself for the worst she wondered,
"How may I bring harmony between your race and mine?"
Happiness not her own filled her as the big hary Lord Montag began,
Music.
"Music?" she asked, surprised and skeptical.
"Music. You've shown prodigious skill at many of your human instruments--piano, guitar, flute, harp, lute, violin, cello, the list goes on. You've shown some skill at composing for these instruments, and you're also a very good lyricist. There are human groups and artists that once encouraged harmony. Everyone from Nick Drake to Secret Garden."
"Who? What?" She did enjoy writing music, though.
"Look them up. It wasn't we who spoke to them, though it was other interdimensional species who communicated through either direct contact or lucid dreaming. Unfortunately you humans consider such things signs of madness, but they only drive you mad because you have damaged the centers of your brains that deal with the extra four senses."
She remembered coming across something about other senses in a book and tried to remember them now.
"Clairaudiance, clairvoyance,"
Myah shifted restlessly, her eyes covertly scanning the cavernous room for any means of escape. Yet, she took care to guard her thoughts, remembering that this was the only way they seemed able to communicate with her, and she with them.. She took measured breaths, till she called up the painting in her room, that never failed to relax her. The meadow, alive with the joy of spring, birds, flowers, and the lone toy soldier; abandoned summers ago, waiting for the return of his master. She was calm now, and could concentrate on the request asked of her.
"Harmony." she mused outloud. The sound of her voice caused many of the beasts to step back; something akin to fear crossing their faces.
"do not do that again!" ordered one of the beasts that had aided in her abduction.
"Do what?" Myah thought inwardly this time.
"speak!" The thought ripped through her mind, sharp and intense.
Why was she not allowed to speak, she wondered.
and was she to understand that this melody was only to be done with instruments and not vocals?
"At least while you're down here!"
a unanimous multitude of voices seemed to shout along with an overwelming sense of dread.
"But, why. I do not understand."
One of the spearits, a tall, gangly male, aproached her and put a hand on her sholder.
"Because this is the only way to do it. If you'd rather not do it yourself, we can always force you. It's your choice."
"Ok ok ok gosh. Tell me how I'm suppose to bring harmoney already."
The tention in the air noticeably lessened.
"instructed by kew, you will become a popstar. Then the message through instrument will be pease for all creatures of our world and yours."
She opened her eyes 5 hours later from a fitful sleep. A dream? Of course it was. Or so she hoped. She took a long relaxing shower and glanced into the mirror at a message written in the fogged reflection. One word.
"Harmoney."
She stood staring at the word on the mirror for a full minute. Her thoughts incoherent and confused. If anyone had been watching her at the time they would have seen an interesting mix of expressions cross her face in that minute; chief among them shock, confusion, dismay, and finally settling on denial.
"No. It was a dream. Just a stupid dream. I had to much to eat last night, that's all. Besides, it didn't even make sense. I don't even like composing music and how could it possibly be done without lyrics? Anyway, if that was the case, why put "lyricist" in the list of things I'm apparently so good at? No, no, no. A stupid dream brought on by stress or something. No!"
And it was as she spoke the last word out loud that it happened.
A blinding bolt of pain shot through her head. Along with it came the feelings of anger and terror, and the thought...
"no!! You mustn't speak. Never! I thought that was clear. You can not speak! You won't speak."
The episode passed and she found herself lying on the floor staring up at the bottom of the sink.
Even more dazed and shocked than before, she opened her mouth to deny this latest impossibility, and realized to her horror...
Her voice was gone!
She let out a silent scream that no one could or would ever hear again as the shere, undeniable reality of her situation crashed down on her with crippling force.
She blacked out, the one word she would eventually come to hate more than any other, echoing in her mind...
"harmony"
She picked herself up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She sat on the chair, considering what to do. The stress she felt was like a weight on her, heavier than any solid object could ever be. She knew just what she needed to relax her. She picked up the phone can called her boyfriend.
"Hello?"
She responded but once again came
"Hello? Anyone there?"
Remembering she had no voice, she placed it back on the receiver. She took her cellphone out of her pocket and sent him a text message instead.
"Come over right now. Its an emergency."
He responded quickly, as she knew he would. She pased the floor while she waited, her thoughts cherning like the contents of some great blender. How could she creat harmony?
Of course, she could make someone else sing, if she had to. How else could you get an utqrained human mind to ever understand the true message in an instrumental? She brushed that thought away; it wasn't her own.
Instead, she turned her mind to possible solutions to her problem and suddenly, inspiration hit her like a dead bird on a windshield. She took her stimulous check and started a tallent reality show called, sing your ass off! and hired george bush and Judge Judy to co hoste and help her weed out the wanna-be's. The first day of the show a young lady with no visible neck started singing? Well it sounded more like braying. George bush, in his stetson cowboy boots and 2 6 shooters on his belt drawled,
"American Citizens? I believe we've finally discovered the weapons of mass distruction. Yee haw paw, meppons of dass wisstruction."
"I think you missed a turn at nebraska."
The girl said, chuckling.
The insulting sounds stopped.
"Who in their right mind told you to come here!"
The judge barked.
"Well I've been singing sin..."
"I don't care."
The contestant lowered her voice to a whisper and mumbled something about the children's quior. The judge banged her gavvle.
"Listen to me!"
Her voice boomed.
"I? Do not? Care! You come in here with no training no tallent and expect me to consider you? Get a life you know. Get a real job and stop being angry mam."
The contestant sobbed.
"Stop being angry! judgement for the plaintiff I mean, next!"
"heppens of gas misfuckshun...seconds of class rampbunction...westens of,"
George continued as if nothing happened. The next contestant was sent in and the judges braced themselves for the worse.
He was tall, about 6 feet, with long blond hair down to his shoulders, dressed in all black. His face was calm and collected. He wore a feather boa around his neck. hanging off it were flowers, fluffballs and a mixture of other things. When he oppened his mouth and sang, it was as if the world stopped. His voice had everything in it a person could want. When asked what his name was, he replied, "I am Angel and I come from a place called Myria.
The judges drew in their breath. "You've an amazing voice. We shall call you."
and they did so. for no one was able to beat his tallent. his voice was like an ocean wave crashing gently upon the shores.
After all, he never expected that he would get the call back in the first place, and if the truth be known he only tried out for the show because of a bet.
"Just do it," Someone at one of the many parties he'd attended told him, and he finally had after much debating with himself. There had only been three days left for try outs and now he was standing here, in front of the judge and former president.
He stepped back, calm and composed as ever. The nexs contestant walked out on to the stage.
The judges blinked in surprise at her appearance. She had a gentle expression on her face, as if she'd just sort of wandered in. She was delicate-looking, so fragile that she seemed almost feathery. Her dress was of a delicate red. Her earrings were in the shape of golden, sapphire-studded wings--even the feathers were carved perfectly. Her eyes were light blue, and her hair curved softly, gently down to just below her shoulders, and was like soft, silky gold.
Something came over the speakers that made everyone stop and listen. The gentle, mournful sound of whistling wind fell through the room, which had fallen perfectly silent. Strings came in gently, moving slowly across ancient, mournful deep chords. A flute cried distantly, descending gently and trailing away.
The girl's song was wordless, but the melody and the harmony of low, synthesized strings and Celtic flute behind her voice were breath-stopping and beautiful. She was crying through a melody, mourning for the chaos and disorder of her world, crying for peace and beauty. Her voice was like drifting, shimmering mist--high, lilting, and clear as rain at night. She was the perfect counterpart to Angel's amazing, flawless tenor.
In the audience, Myah knew that it didn't matter who won. She wanted Angel and the girl--Celina--to sing for her. They were the chosen voices.
but they didn't, because judge Judy, with her tongue of sharpest steel, tore their confidence from limb to limb.
"Quiet!"
She ordered,
startling Mya and George out of their emotional driftings. She sneered at the stammering Celina.
"Dih---did you ly..."
"That!" she barked angrily,
Celina collected herself. For a moment, everyone in the room could swear that her eyes flashed silver. She turned smoothly, with a lithe, catlike grace.
"It is no concern of mine whether you have the lack of heart to stomp on someone's carefully-written--and honest--heart, put to music," she said. "All of you are only revealed as that what you are, and," she sniffed haughtily, "I'm quite glad you don't like me. Wouldn't want the sheeple mobbing me at all times, would I? How boring." She swirled from the room with calm dignity and grace.
Mya growned inwardly after suffering through several more terrible acts.
"Get out!!"
screamed Judge judy as the rainbow afroed platform shoe wearing 10th contestant fled to escape her heavy saramic coffee mug.
A cop walked in, taking a bite of a jelly doughnut before shoving it into the front pocket of his pants which seemed about to rip.
"May...may we help you?" Mya asked puzzled.
"Yeah." He began in a voice and accent very much resembling Peter Griffin's,
"I'm auditioning f..."
"Do it!" judith sheindlin demanded.
"this is going to take all day." Mya thought frustratedly. The instant the officer began singing however,
the bite of jelly doughnut flew from the officer's mouth, his belly heaved and puffed beneath the ill-fitting blue uniform as the strains of Bing Crosby essayed forth from portly lips under a read beak nose. It soon became a contest of wills: Judge Judy's shrill atteempts to stop this charade, and his increasing melodious wail of one Bing Crosby number to the next, one Christmas anthem to the next.
Finally, in the midst of a particularly horrific rendition of grandma got ran over by a reindeer, he was turned upside down into a rubbish bin and boddily roled out, his hollow song fading along with the clanging of his container.
"This isn't working."
Mya sighed, rising from her seat between George Bush planning a war on iraque and a redfaced and scouling judge Judy. She went out and faced the waiting crowd. They fell silent believing they would now discover whom would be chosen to proceed, but all she said was,
"You all suck. The show's canceled. Goodbye."
and slamming the door on furious ejaculations such as,
"What kind of crap is that!",
This is bullsh...", and
"Well fu*** you too!"