Fox and Wolf: The Beginning

The sun was hot; it boiled his already leathery and scabbed skin. He rubbed his eyes, and when he took his hands away he was in shadow. “Get up Wolf.” The voice was deep and monotone, yet somehow commanding and frightening. “Where is my fucking money?”
“I don’t have it.” Felix Wolf rolled over onto his knees and before getting up, balled up his fists with dirt. “Look Damon, people don’t do blow anymore, they have no money for it, and they’re too concerned with finding food.”
Damon puffed out his chest, he was an enormous beast of a man, and it was for that reason that he was the tribe leader. His shaved head glistened in the sun, and his eyes appeared black because they were sunken so far into his face. Wolf stood a good foot shorter than Damon, but in that moment he could have sworn that they were standing eye to eye. For the first time in a long while, Wolf, studied Damon’s face. It was fat and dumb looking, like a football player, or a boxer who had been hit too many times. His nose was flat on his face, and he wore a grin that would eventually get him killed.
“Did I ask your opinion? Hmm, Wolf? No, I asked you where my fucking money was.”
“And I told you, you dumb brute, I don’t have it, but what I do have, is your drugs, so how about I give those back to you, and Fox and I leave.”
Damon let out an earth-shattering laugh. “That’s not how it works you little shit. If you want to eat this week, you do as I say, and I say sell those drugs and give me my money, or starve, I don’t care one less mouth to feed, but there is no leaving this tribe.”
Wolf had had enough, he hated selling drugs, no one even used them anymore, except for pot. People were too focused on finding food these days. And wolf was hungry, for food, but right now he was hungry for something else, blood. It was like something had gone *click! In his brain and everything was clear. Killing Damon would solve all problems. He held up his middle finger in front of Damon’s face mouthed a “fuck you” to him, and shoved his hands full of dirt into Damon’s nose and mouth. He then quickly grabbed his makeshift knife, and cut Damon’s neck open.
Damon did not go down however, instead; he rushed at Wolf and knocked him to the ground. He proceeded to punch wolf in the face over and over, each blow was lighter than he last though, and before Wolf had been fully knocked out, Damon collapsed onto him, dead.

Excerpt from an unamed story

Calvin and Sally were now on the farmland, yet neither of them had seen any signs of live, not even cattle roaming about the land. Calvin could see the fences were still intact that would keep animals from running wild, yet he saw no signs of life. Judging by the sun’s placement, Calvin gathered that it must be around the tenth hour before the midday.
“Does it strike you as odd that we are not far from midday and we have yet to see any signs of life?” Sally’s question broke the silence.
“Yes,” calving agreed. He looked at Sally’s concerned face. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Do you think we should continue on?” Sally stared deeply at the farm that lay in front of them.”
Calvin weighed his options before speaking. We are in need of food, yet my gut tells me venturing further could be dangerous-
His thoughts were cut off by Sally speaking again. “I think we should check this out, I don’t feel comfortable standing out in the open during the day. For all we know rangers could be patrolling these lands, and we know the others are safe in the tunnel for now.”
“Uh, right.” Calvin replied seeing Sally’s point. “Then let us continue on.”
The two of them traveled onward toward the main cottage of the farm. As they neared it about a half hour later; Calvin saw that the small wooden cottage had spiderwebs covering a good portion of it. It was a small one room building made up of light brown wooden logs that appeared long dead. Calvin could see many holes in the stacked logs and thoughts of disgusting crunchy bugs crawling inside the wood and infiltrating the cottage filled his head. The grass around the small structure had turned a light beige color indicating that it, like the cottage, was long dead. Sally walked over to the edge of the dead grass and knelt down examining the ground. Calvin thought she looked foolish when she put her face to the ground and moved her hand over the top of the blades. He stood there for several moments watching her, but he could not figure out what she was doing.
Just when he was about to break her concentration by asking her what on earth she was doing, she broke the heavy silence. Her voice cut through it like a knife through warm bread; it was sharp and loud, her usual delicate soprano sing-song tone was harsh and hung in the air. It made Calvin uneasy, like something was out of place; he felt as though her voice gave them away. “If you look at the grass, it’s all torn up. Like someone was digging at it.”
Calvin was confused now, and he could feel his eyebrows coming together on his forehead in a scowl. “Why would someone dig at grass? It makes no sense.”
“Exactly!” Sally was now standing and walking away from the cottage’s rickety, termite infested door. “If you look here,” she pointed down to a line in the ground where green grass met dead grass, “the grass is green.”
“So?” Sally gave Calvin a look that he assumed was annoyance because he was so lost.
“Calvin, isn’t it obvious? It appears that there was a struggle here. It would explain the torn up ground and dead grass. If someone was fighting here they could have gotten to the ground and had to wrestle and claw their way to freedom.”
“I suppose that makes sense, but one fight would not kill all of this grass.” Just then, and idea popped into Calvin’s head. “Sally, what if there was more than one struggle here?”
Sally’s eyes widened and Calvin saw a fear swell up in her that he had not seen since Hammeron had told Calvin of his dream all those nights ago.
“I think your right Calvin. We should head back.” Her voice was trebling and as far from sing-songy as possible. “I don’t want to linger around here anymore.”
Calvin’s stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard pushing air down. He had a pulling feeling inside him that he felt the need to obey; it was pulling back away from this cottage. Yet, he ignored his instinct again. “I’m going to go inside and see if I can’t find food or anything that might aid us.”
At this Sally grew angry. She stomped over to him and grabbed his arm trying to pull him away. “You are not going in there Calvin I have a bad feeling about this place! There is an evil here!”
But Calvin ignored her. He yanked his arm free and held his finger up to his lips, commanding her to be silent. She slumped to the ground and looked up at Calvin. He saw a cross of anger and worry strewn across her face but ignored it. Turning toward the door he started for the cottage.
Calvin grabbed the rusty handle and pushed the door inward. To his amazement, it opened soundlessly. This however, did not ease his fear nor slow his racing heartbeat. He looked back at Sally and saw that she was sitting there shaking her head back and forth, but he continued in. As soon as he stepped fully in the cottage, the door slammed shut behind him. A cold mist came over him. The hair on the nape of his neck stood up and Goosebumps sprouted about his arms. Now he found it hard to breathe and he could feel his heart slowing from lack of blood flow. Cold beads of sweat raced down his forehead and some seeped into his eyes. The salt irritated him and made his vision blurry. From what he could see, the cottage was small. There was a small table on the right wall below a window that was fogged over, at the end of the room was a hearth. It was crumbling into itself and looked like it hadn’t been used in a long time. On either side of the hearth were two wooden rocking chairs. Tentatively, he took a few steps forward, his footsteps made no noise on the rotted wooden floor that should have creaked and moaned under the pressure of his feet. He reached the two rocking chairs; and looked down upon them. He noticed that they, like the cottage hadn’t been used in a very long time. He saw brown flakes indicating that the chairs used to be a fine polished oak color, now they were a frail, dead grey color.
Calvin cautiously reached out his hand and touched the right rocking chair, before he could even register the feel of the rotted wood; it crumbled into dust and fragments. Calvin’s ears rang with a crashing noise that did not fit dust hitting the floor. In a panic, he spun around looking for the source of the noise. Just as he spun around, he heard a curdling scream coming from outside the cottage. He started for the door but was blinded by fog and a swirling of dust. Before he could reach the handle, four hands shot out of the grey abyss and threw him to the floor. He immediately tried to get up and fight, but he was shoved even harder into the floor. The hands felt like a stone force pushing into Calvin’s spine, and he let out a yelp of agony.
Just then the door crashed open and banged on the inner wall of the cottage. All Calvin could see amidst the dust was two sets of feet shuffling along the floor. He was then picked up and turned around, form what little he could see there was a trap door in the floor leading somewhere Calvin did not know.
“Calvin, Help!” Sally coughed, but before he could respond; he was being gagged by a cloth and a black sack was pulled over his head.

Hooligans

OK, so first I was going to do The Godfather, but that's already a book. Then I was going to do Donnie Darko, but I would need like 5 pages to describe everything. SOOOO, I chose Green Street Hooligans. I chose it because it was a slight challenge for me. The hero's journey in this movie, isn't quite as easy to find at times, expect for the refusal to call which is apparent in the beginning and even resurfaces, which i thought was cool. the part I wrote about was a combination between the Ultimate Boon, and Refusal to Return. I chose these parts of the journey, because they are always my favorite, and this one is (spoilers obviously) sad. Movies can do what books sometimes can't they can bring out emotions in a myriad of ways, by music and slow motion and close ups... It is my goal to one day be able to write a story, a true tragedy. One that leaves the reader so drained of any emotion because nothing good has come of the journey, you want the hero to win, but even in sacrafice everything was fruitless. While this wasn't even close to that, I think it is a start.







I took another drag on my cigarette, but I couldn’t enjoy it. All I wanted, all I needed right now was to be with Pete and the rest of the gang. This fight was as much mine as anyone else’s, my brother-in-law was in the fucking hospital because of me. What Shannon said about no one caring about my rep back home was wrong; I was home now. I had fought, and fought hard to find my home, and I wasn’t letting it go. I had learned that I wasn’t made of glass here, and god damnit I was going to prove it, again and again until this was all over.

My brothers and I stood there in the cold morning; the wharf was the perfect place for this fight, quiet and away from civilization. Men could be beasts here, we could fight as if we were knights of old. I clenched my fists, and they were stiff, but they would still pack a mean punch. I may not have started this war, but I was part of the family that did, and now it was on me to finish it once and for all. They stood there looking like hungry, rabid dogs, and I wondered if we looked the say way to them. The next thing I knew we were running at each other in slow motion, I saw everything clearly, their snarled faces, the hunger for blood in their eyes, and I knew in that moment my face mirrored theirs; I knew that the only difference between us was one town, and a whole world. Flashes of the fight flew past my eyes; I saw my fist dig itself into the once hard jawbone of a man. I saw my knee meet a man’s chin and a perfect arc of thick crimson blood flow from his mouth like he was a fountain. I saw black as my face collided into fists and concrete, and I still wasn’t glass. It wasn’t until one of Tommy’s guys started for Shannon that things slowed down. Why was she here? I didn’t understand but I knew I had to protect her. Everything was slow from here on out, not like slow motion, no. It was a different kind of slow; I couldn’t quite place it. It was almost like I was trudging through sludge and Tommy’s thug was waiting for me, taunting me. He was a full foot taller than me, but I was like a rabid dog, he could have been fucking Goliath, and I David for all I cared.

I was getting the piss beat out of me when everything just stopped; no one was fighting anymore except for Tommy. The air was thick, and quiet, I knew that Tommy’s punches should have made that slapping, thudding noise, but they didn’t. All I registered was what Tommy was doing, and who he was doing it too. There Pete lay, unmoving; Tommy’s fists still smashing into his skull. I knew in that moment that he was dead, my heart sank into my stomach and all that rose back up was rage, blind burning rage. I knocked Goliath to the ground and got in the car. As much as I wanted to kill Tommy for what he did to Pete, I knew that taking care of my sister was more important.

Pete Dunham’s life taught me there’s a time to stand your ground, his death taught me there’s a time to walk away. I would never have the chance to thank him; but I could live in a way that would honor him.

Please don't make me be a girl anymore

I don’t even know why I have a mirror, and a full body one nonetheless. I hate looking at myself, my hair is too thin, my face is too square, my boobs are too small, and my hips are too wide; if only I could change everything with the snap of my fingers. Maybe I should dye my hair darker, no that won’t look good, I’m too pale. I could always go tanning, but then I might look orange, and Mark might think I’m one of those girls, which I’m not, oh what do I care Mark probably doesn’t even know who I am. Wait yes he does, he asked to be my lab partner. Maybe he likes me! No stop thinking crazy things like that, he just knows I’m the class nerd and wants a good grade so he can keep playing football. Wow, I’m such a loser, why couldn’t I be dumb and hot like a normal girl; oh maybe he’ll come to like me when we work together! Crap, stop thinking your life is going to turn out like a romantic comedy, your life is more like a Diablo Cody movie, you’ll either get knocked up by some weird kid who thinks he’s cool for acting like a retarded neurotic loser, or some girl will get possessed and try and kill you. I guess the latter would make life interesting. Ugh, at least these jeans make my butt look cute.