Post by stonerninja on Aug 5, 2007 2:54:39 GMT -5
This is a little thing I wrote in a backwards way. I wish I could find the original, hand written document to see just what I did; all I can remember is that I wrote it all out of sequence (in an experimental, schizoid sorta way), and a couple of part got reprised as a result. So, when I put it into the computer here, I tried to iron out the edges, and add a smattering of logic.
I needed to write something in a new way because...well, because I haven't written anything concrete for a while. Or since, for that matter, since this thing was penned in the spring. Some of Roman Polanski's Repulsion is in this, also a little of the paintings of Giger. Look those both up. Uh, asuming the story agrees with you.
For the moment, it's called "Child in Time," after the Deep Purple song. Please Ritchie, don't sue me.
“Carol, are you daydreaming again?”
“Hmm?” Carol looked up, absently twirling her coffee cup back and forth in her hands. Her face was pointed at Angel, but her eyes were blank, and seemed to stare through the other woman.
Angel looked down at her own coffee. “I really can’t blame you. The world’s going to hell in a hand basket anyway. The sky’s turning yellow from all the pollution, and,” she waved a disgusted hand at newspaper’s screaming headline, “This serial killer, the Smiling Killer guy. It’s all kind of crazy.”
“And Miss Bandcroft.” Carol’s voice cut into Angel, surprising her. Angel was silent a moment, then laughed.
“Definitely Miss Bandcroft.” Miss Bandcroft, at least thirty years their senior, was their foreman at the textile plant. She had always been hard on them, but ever since Carol had started spacing out about a month ago, she was really eating into them.
Carol suddenly laughed. “Do you remember last week when we shredded some of the material and blamed it on mice?”
Angel looked up. She smiled, but didn’t laugh. Carol breathed in, and gazed out the window at an acid yellow sky.
Carol was walking home, down one of the nameless streets. Uncaring traffic buzzed by. The air was thick, almost solid. A decaying newspaper, spurred on by passing cars, hugged her leg.
She stopped to brush it away, and looked into the huge, plate glass window of a shop. An antiques shop. She wasn’t sure why she looked, what caught her eye, but it finally rested on a knife. A long, curved knife with an ornate silver handle. And then, everything melted before her.
Every time she came back here, it was different. The first time, the sky had been gray. Iron gray, almost black, like one of the ominous, lifeless machines at the plant. But capable of...movement.
The sky had been getting lighter since then, rapidly changing hues. In fact, sometimes in front of her, like a sunrise over a blank page. The landscape had made itself known to her, little by little. Columns, like arms outstretched, seemed to grow out of the ground, skinny black trees wrapped snakelike around the stone.
And there was the Temple. Each time she came back, it also seemed different. More built up; what had at first been a ruined acropolis had sprouted steps, then, a cracked, sloping roof had slid across the columns, more of those columns, which had sprouted like the trees that strangled them.
But it all seemed so gradual, so natural, that she couldn’t tell if they were being built, or if they had grown.
Carol started towards the Temple, and stopped, startled. He was there again. The Bard. She didn’t know how she knew he was called the Bard. She simply did.
She had seen him just once before, when the sky had still been dark. He had been standing outside the ruined Temple then. Now, now that it was another step closer to being whole, he was inside.
She hadn’t seen the Bard since that day. In fact, she’d never seen another living thing, except for the trees. She saw shadows at first, but they had passed, faded away perhaps. She also thought she heard something like birds once, but the sky was always clear here. Not even clouds.
She started moving faster without realizing it.
The Bard was closer now, more than a shape. He was wearing some kind of black garment, and he was holding a rod. A soft patch of blue fire was floating at the tip.
She was almost running now. The moss eaten Temple was getting bigger by the second. Soon, she would put her foot down on the first step, and—and she screamed. She was falling.
The sky wasn’t black or white or yellow. It was purple, the purple of a fading sunset. She was standing in front of the antiques shop again, covered in a cold sweat. Her reflection was fading with the sunset.
Carol pushed open the door to her apartment. In one swift motion, she dropped her purse and flicked on a light. Pale white fluorescence showered the room.
The TV was on in the living room. She didn’t remember turning it on that morning. Confused, she approached the high table on which the machine say.
“Another of the so-called Smiling Killer’s victims, the fifth in four weeks, was found dead in her apartment today,” a particularly bleary eyed and depressed news reporter was droning. “Just like the other victims, her throat had been slashed with a kitchen knife,” Carol reached down to switch off her television set. The reporter’s head shuddered, then devolved into a white pinprick.
Carol stopped and stared at the freshly blackened screen. She saw herself reflected, but not her apartment. Behind her was the other world. She turned, dazed, never bothering to look back and reaffirm the reality of the TV.
The sky was orange here. Not yellow, not baby blue, but orange. Thick, blood orange, like the most violent summer sunset. Carol looked up. This sky was bright, but she couldn’t find the sun.
Giant rocks now jutted from the ground, like phantom teeth. Carol gasped, freezing in place, as one of them moved.
A creature with camouflage gray skin hit the ground. It looked like an oversized cat, with anorexic ribs poking through a caved chest. It started at her for a second, then darted into the thick, black bramble that bordered the rock.
She approached the Temple. The stairs were made of outstretched hands, each one lifting her higher and higher into the building, and closer and closer to the Bard.
This was the first time she’d been in the Temple. The ruin was just as evident within. Ancient paintings, that more resembled cave drawings than religious art, lined the ceiling. It was surrounded by a thick, black moss that also lined the walls. The Temple was more complete than it had been, but there was still a decided overtone of decay.
The Bard was motioning to her now, and she came.
When she was face to face with the him, she felt uneasy. Except, she wasn’t quite face to face with him, because his head was almost completely hidden by his dark cowl, the top of which quivered back and forth like a living tentacle.
Only the thin line of his mouth was visible. There were no eyes, and a skull-like pair of slits to suggest a nose.
Even with a sloping back, the Bard was still a head taller than Carol. His arms, unusually long, stretched back behind his body before doubling back to the shoulders.
Suddenly, hardly glancing at Carol now that she was here, the Bard waved his torch in the air. A square of the gray stone floor rolled backwards, revealing an endless flight of stairs.
More hands. Carol didn’t move. She couldn’t.
The Bard parted his lips in a grim smile. Even white teeth nestled in graying gums. His voice was like ice, “Come with me.”
Without another word, the Bard started towards the steps. Carol was disorientated. She turned back, and the sky was black again. The landscape had vanished, and the Temple was floating amidst a sea of stars.
Suddenly cold, she looked back at the stairs. The Bard was gone, and the blue light was fading down the corridor.
Suddenly alone, Carol moved to the top of the stairs. The Bard was below her, a distant shape again. She put a nervous foot on the first step, and—something cut through her world.
She was back in her apartment again, but she wasn’t alone anymore. A man was in the room. A man with a knife.
Her front door silently clicked shut. Somewhere, a television crackled to life. She gasped, quickly looked around. The sound was coming from the apartment just above her. She tried to cry out, but couldn’t force herself to.
She swallowed instead. The man took a step towards her, raising the knife a little. His eyes were as empty as Carol’s, but unlike her, he was smiling.
I needed to write something in a new way because...well, because I haven't written anything concrete for a while. Or since, for that matter, since this thing was penned in the spring. Some of Roman Polanski's Repulsion is in this, also a little of the paintings of Giger. Look those both up. Uh, asuming the story agrees with you.
For the moment, it's called "Child in Time," after the Deep Purple song. Please Ritchie, don't sue me.
“Carol, are you daydreaming again?”
“Hmm?” Carol looked up, absently twirling her coffee cup back and forth in her hands. Her face was pointed at Angel, but her eyes were blank, and seemed to stare through the other woman.
Angel looked down at her own coffee. “I really can’t blame you. The world’s going to hell in a hand basket anyway. The sky’s turning yellow from all the pollution, and,” she waved a disgusted hand at newspaper’s screaming headline, “This serial killer, the Smiling Killer guy. It’s all kind of crazy.”
“And Miss Bandcroft.” Carol’s voice cut into Angel, surprising her. Angel was silent a moment, then laughed.
“Definitely Miss Bandcroft.” Miss Bandcroft, at least thirty years their senior, was their foreman at the textile plant. She had always been hard on them, but ever since Carol had started spacing out about a month ago, she was really eating into them.
Carol suddenly laughed. “Do you remember last week when we shredded some of the material and blamed it on mice?”
Angel looked up. She smiled, but didn’t laugh. Carol breathed in, and gazed out the window at an acid yellow sky.
Carol was walking home, down one of the nameless streets. Uncaring traffic buzzed by. The air was thick, almost solid. A decaying newspaper, spurred on by passing cars, hugged her leg.
She stopped to brush it away, and looked into the huge, plate glass window of a shop. An antiques shop. She wasn’t sure why she looked, what caught her eye, but it finally rested on a knife. A long, curved knife with an ornate silver handle. And then, everything melted before her.
Every time she came back here, it was different. The first time, the sky had been gray. Iron gray, almost black, like one of the ominous, lifeless machines at the plant. But capable of...movement.
The sky had been getting lighter since then, rapidly changing hues. In fact, sometimes in front of her, like a sunrise over a blank page. The landscape had made itself known to her, little by little. Columns, like arms outstretched, seemed to grow out of the ground, skinny black trees wrapped snakelike around the stone.
And there was the Temple. Each time she came back, it also seemed different. More built up; what had at first been a ruined acropolis had sprouted steps, then, a cracked, sloping roof had slid across the columns, more of those columns, which had sprouted like the trees that strangled them.
But it all seemed so gradual, so natural, that she couldn’t tell if they were being built, or if they had grown.
Carol started towards the Temple, and stopped, startled. He was there again. The Bard. She didn’t know how she knew he was called the Bard. She simply did.
She had seen him just once before, when the sky had still been dark. He had been standing outside the ruined Temple then. Now, now that it was another step closer to being whole, he was inside.
She hadn’t seen the Bard since that day. In fact, she’d never seen another living thing, except for the trees. She saw shadows at first, but they had passed, faded away perhaps. She also thought she heard something like birds once, but the sky was always clear here. Not even clouds.
She started moving faster without realizing it.
The Bard was closer now, more than a shape. He was wearing some kind of black garment, and he was holding a rod. A soft patch of blue fire was floating at the tip.
She was almost running now. The moss eaten Temple was getting bigger by the second. Soon, she would put her foot down on the first step, and—and she screamed. She was falling.
The sky wasn’t black or white or yellow. It was purple, the purple of a fading sunset. She was standing in front of the antiques shop again, covered in a cold sweat. Her reflection was fading with the sunset.
Carol pushed open the door to her apartment. In one swift motion, she dropped her purse and flicked on a light. Pale white fluorescence showered the room.
The TV was on in the living room. She didn’t remember turning it on that morning. Confused, she approached the high table on which the machine say.
“Another of the so-called Smiling Killer’s victims, the fifth in four weeks, was found dead in her apartment today,” a particularly bleary eyed and depressed news reporter was droning. “Just like the other victims, her throat had been slashed with a kitchen knife,” Carol reached down to switch off her television set. The reporter’s head shuddered, then devolved into a white pinprick.
Carol stopped and stared at the freshly blackened screen. She saw herself reflected, but not her apartment. Behind her was the other world. She turned, dazed, never bothering to look back and reaffirm the reality of the TV.
The sky was orange here. Not yellow, not baby blue, but orange. Thick, blood orange, like the most violent summer sunset. Carol looked up. This sky was bright, but she couldn’t find the sun.
Giant rocks now jutted from the ground, like phantom teeth. Carol gasped, freezing in place, as one of them moved.
A creature with camouflage gray skin hit the ground. It looked like an oversized cat, with anorexic ribs poking through a caved chest. It started at her for a second, then darted into the thick, black bramble that bordered the rock.
She approached the Temple. The stairs were made of outstretched hands, each one lifting her higher and higher into the building, and closer and closer to the Bard.
This was the first time she’d been in the Temple. The ruin was just as evident within. Ancient paintings, that more resembled cave drawings than religious art, lined the ceiling. It was surrounded by a thick, black moss that also lined the walls. The Temple was more complete than it had been, but there was still a decided overtone of decay.
The Bard was motioning to her now, and she came.
When she was face to face with the him, she felt uneasy. Except, she wasn’t quite face to face with him, because his head was almost completely hidden by his dark cowl, the top of which quivered back and forth like a living tentacle.
Only the thin line of his mouth was visible. There were no eyes, and a skull-like pair of slits to suggest a nose.
Even with a sloping back, the Bard was still a head taller than Carol. His arms, unusually long, stretched back behind his body before doubling back to the shoulders.
Suddenly, hardly glancing at Carol now that she was here, the Bard waved his torch in the air. A square of the gray stone floor rolled backwards, revealing an endless flight of stairs.
More hands. Carol didn’t move. She couldn’t.
The Bard parted his lips in a grim smile. Even white teeth nestled in graying gums. His voice was like ice, “Come with me.”
Without another word, the Bard started towards the steps. Carol was disorientated. She turned back, and the sky was black again. The landscape had vanished, and the Temple was floating amidst a sea of stars.
Suddenly cold, she looked back at the stairs. The Bard was gone, and the blue light was fading down the corridor.
Suddenly alone, Carol moved to the top of the stairs. The Bard was below her, a distant shape again. She put a nervous foot on the first step, and—something cut through her world.
She was back in her apartment again, but she wasn’t alone anymore. A man was in the room. A man with a knife.
Her front door silently clicked shut. Somewhere, a television crackled to life. She gasped, quickly looked around. The sound was coming from the apartment just above her. She tried to cry out, but couldn’t force herself to.
She swallowed instead. The man took a step towards her, raising the knife a little. His eyes were as empty as Carol’s, but unlike her, he was smiling.