Free Writing 3

 25/9/23

There was a sound, a low rumbling kind of thing. It weighed upwards through the bones, made you feel all heavy. Dripping, tinkling tings scattered over the top, making a cacophony of unerring unpleasantness. It seemed uncaring of the minds it carried, so delicate and easily snuffed out, in spite of its purpose; the salvation of intelligent life. A roaring, screaming void rushed by outside, shielded by gumption and hard work, mankind's last big "fuck you" to the encroaching unreality poised to destroy it. Their destination: anywhere that could harbour a stable enough reality to reestablish earth. And that was their cargo: the entire planet. Shrunk down with an ingenious usage of unreality held together with paper clips and gaffer tape. Anyone would have thought them insane, but anyone who was sane would have probably died with their dignity intact. This plan was a real embarrassing balls-to-the-wall kind of affair, an I-don't-care-if-I-look-stupid-as-long-as-I-live-long-enough-to-be-able-to-look-stupid kind of affair.

2/10/23

"Never mind that," he said, affecting an air of benevolence, and somehow managing to maintain his insufferableness. "Now, tell me about yourself."

I went to do exactly that, but I'd barely gotten half a sentence out when my new 'friend' managed to turn the conversation back to his favourite topic: himself.

"You know, I once went canoeing in Burma. Now I know what you're thinking," he said.

That I don't care.

"How's that possible? Burma's dry as a bone, there's nowhere to canoe. Well, the story starts with a toothpick, three thespian wastrels and a Burmese mountain lion..."

Burma's coastal, you tosser, I thought, maintaining an agreeable smile. Do you think we don't have schools out in the country?

"I'm sorry to cut you off and miss such an interesting story, but I was on my way somewhere when I bumped into you."

"Oh, not at all, let me escort you there!"

"No, no, I'm sure a man of your calibre has no shortage of things to be doing right now."

"Why, yes, yes, of course I do," he said, suddenly flustered. It seemed that flattery would get me everywhere with this man. "Very considerate of you. By the way, what's your name?"

"Trevor Siatskis."

"William Longfellow, at your service. And now I must bid you adieu."

Little did I know the role this strange man would play in my life over the next six months, how hard it would be to get rid of him now that I had imprinted on him, and how he would change me for the better.

4/10/23

Take it from me, you don't want to go down that road. Nothing good comes out of that place, and that includes people, too. Every good thing you bring in there will be taken from you, and when you leave, it will be as a husk of yourself. There is no relief, no recourse, and no recompense once you cross over into that world. I went into it thinking I would make it better, but you can see what happened to me... But I can see it in your eyes. You're not going to listen to me. You've gotten a taste of it, the freedom, the power, and you won't turn back until you realise it was the metallic taste of chains all along. Well, so be it. Just make me one promise. When you come back - if you come back - don't bring your woes to me.

Note:

Not really my best offering, as far as free writing is concerned. I kinda liked the insanity of the first one, the willingness to mess around with grammar. The third came out as some kind of miserable video game dialogue.

Free Writing 2

 Some more free writing from my masters. These are from my other computer, so the dates are spread out weirdly.

No date:

In those times, it was common for the first born child of every family to be given to the state, to become public servants. The child was taken away from its parents almost immediately after birth, and was raised with the notion that the king was their father. Those familiar with the government of Kadukano will understand just how strange this is; The King of Kadukano is not an individual, but a collective. "The King" is a "person" made up of the entire governing body of the nation. Hence, these firstborns are dubbed "The Prince", and they grow up to be members of "The King"

25/8/23:

There was nothing to be said or done. Each soul watched in disbelief as the immense mass slid down the hill, sweeping trees, houses, and cars with unrelenting, unstoppable force. They watched it slide directly towards them. Many ran. Some knelt down in prayer. The rest just watched in awe. Some were frozen to the spot even as the mud and snow enveloped them.

30/8/23:

There was ever an air of uncertainty around that place. A yawning, unyielding whorl of mystery hanging over every rocky precipice and tangy pine. A place where fruits grew out of season and deer would watch passersby, unblinking and unfazed. It was like a place that had forgotten it was supposed to be part of the rest of the world, and relished in its differences. It was a place where men would go to die, and be given breakfast instead.

Note:

The one which I didn't note the date of is based on an idea I had a while ago, about a kingdom for a fantasy story where they overthrew their King or something in the past, but still liked having a monarchy, so they created a government, called the "King", and each branch of government was named for a different part of the king's body.

As for the one dated for the 30th, I have no idea what that word vomit is. Don't ask me what a tangy pine is; I don't know.

Free Writing

 To try and overcome the mental block preventing me from writing my thesis, I've been trying to start my days by doing some free writing. I think it's helped a little, and I've been surprised by the direction these have gone. Here are some from the last few days:

20-8-23

There is something to be said about a place with no end. It captures your eye, even when you know you should be focussing on something else. Others insist that it’s disturbing, that it serves as an uncomfortable reminder of mortality, or eternity, or what-have-you, but I’ve always found it comforting to work within sight of the singularity. Perhaps it’s the fact that our city’s continued existence is predicated on it; anchoring reality by echoing its memory in the endless fractalline depths. Perhaps it’s because it’s like a dazzling light show, always reflecting the city spires and roads in a seemingly impossible lattice.

Perhaps it comforts me because people look at it the same way they look at me. Discomfort, confusion, maybe even fear. And if the anchor holding our city together gets some disdainful looks now and then, maybe I can help people too, even if they don’t accept me.

22-8-23

The glossy film over the surface of his skin. It never occurred to me that he would look different to us in death, but of course he did. He wasn’t human. I never truly believed it, even knowing him all these years, being his closest friend, but at that moment I felt it for the first time in truth. When I saw the glossy film over the surface of his skin. Excreted like some kind of developing cocoon, shining multicoloured like oil on the road after rain. That was the cruellest thing about it, that it stole away some part of his humanity, in my mind. But maybe that’s true about everyone; before, that was a person. Now, it’s just a thing.

23-8-23

High above the ground, neverwhere presided. They said the really was ground down there, If you went far enough down. Tallis didn’t know why you would though; neverwhere was everything he’d ever known or wanted to know, and the same went for his parents and their parents before them. But now and then, he’d catch a glimpse of void peeking through the clouds below, and for some reason—he didn’t know why—he’d feel a kind of sad longing. But, knowing that these sourceless emotions were unproductive, he would set them aside and continue with his business. He had no time for such nonsense, none at all.