My Name is Nathaniel Daniel Cockerspaniel

Have At Thee, Lock!

For a brief moment, you consider conceding to your mother’s wishes and cleaning your room without a fuss. You pick up a stray pair of boxer shorts, and thin mold hugging it’s underside and producing a stench only a plumber could be comfortable with. You decide to fuck this shit, someone else can clean your room.

You collapse on your bed and scatter the sheets. You miss your girlfriend deeply; it’s been two days since you last saw her gorgeous chocolate locks, plus she’d probably clean your room if you begged her long enough. You stare at the lock on the door and curse the day anyone decided to protect their belongings. If that guy was so scared of losing his stuff, he should have just been born as muscular as you and beaten up anyone who tried to take any of his crud.

You get up, the sound of cheeto bags crinkling underneath your bare feet. You look at the lock. It’s actually pretty fancy for something that’s meant to oppress you. Several precious jewels are encrusted within, or at leas some sort of imitations. Thin lines of gold spiral around its square frame. Looking at it kinda makes you dizzy. 

Wait a minute, if the lock is on your side of the door, how the hell is your dad supposed to ever let you out? That fucker trying to make you starve or something!? You tug at the lock, applying all the energy you can exert on the chains, every myofibril of your body contracted in fury. Not a single h-zone was left after your efforts, but all you managed to do was tire yourself out. The dumbass chains didn’t even budge, what a waste of time! 

You look around your room for something of use. A bobby pin strikes your attention; you can pick a lock with that!— er, at least you think that’s true. You jam the pin in the lock and jiggle it around a bit. Nothing happens. You resort to going on google and looking up how to pick a lock.

http://www.wikihow.com/Pick-a-Lock

Not a single damn thing in that page made any sense to you, and you’ve already got some random pin shoved inside the lock. It’s obvious none of your skills will work with the damn thing. The only option left now is the window, or you could contact one of your friends on the computer to see if they can help, though it would make you look terribly lame. 

What will you do?

Continuing Silly Nature Stuff

This is continuing my tiny excerpt from a couple of days ago. Who knows where this will go after this part. Oh wait, I do. Again, this is as first as drafts can get.

           The zipping of water increased with every step I took toward my peers. The thick sight of leaves and branches petered out as I arrived by the group, a mass of nondescript nobodies I had the displeasure of sharing my time with today. Their bodies looked gray and damp, add a little green and they would be pond scum. They stood static on stretch of rock close to a waterfall. The water below poured out into a sweeping lake, rippling with each drop of liquid glory.

            “What the hell took you so long? We’re soaking out here!” a female voice said. I shrugged my shoulders and looked down. I was never going to sign up with a public hiking group again. They all grumbled and moved down from the rock toward a muddied trail close to the fall. My legs carried me toward the group, but my mind flew from them and toward regret. Why must I leave this wonderful place? A little rain wasn’t going to melt the stupid shits.

            The group was at least ten meters ahead of me by the time I reached the mud of the trail. I saw a few of them turn their heads and whisper. I shared their sentiment; I didn’t want to be with them either. My foot planted itself in the soil but slipped and left scar on the mud. I felt my balance teetering into oblivion, my world upside-down in seconds. My larynx emitted a sharp yelp, and I tumbled down, off the trail and into a free-fall toward the lake. Screams pierced the air as fast as they tapered out of existence. The white of the waterfall was all I could see, the last image of my life. My body writhed, unable to deal with the incapability of any possible action. The world slowed as I plummeted. The streaks of rain reversed their stretching and became perfect spheres of liquid by the time my hair grazed the surface of the lake. The world roared back into tempo once I punctured the surface, and my ears were deafened by the vast rush of water that seemed to permeate my brain. The light of the world snuffed out instantly, the relentless chill subsided; for one brief moment, I was in the eternity of anguish.

             Yet, the very next moment I felt the world righting itself, my rapid descent becoming an erratic ascent. The light returned; my numbness abided. My body hurtled past the water and into the emptiness of air. I huddled my arms and legs inward as if to protect myself, for what little it would do. I was reintroduced to the water in seconds, this time my momentum crashing down to nothing. I remained in my fetal position, holding it until my back floated up to the surface and again felt the embrace of air. I couldn’t comprehend a single detail of what occurred. All I knew was that I was alive.

            I waited until my lungs called for oxygen to unfurl my limbs and face the sky. I coughed up any water that invaded my windpipe, and gasped for air while convulsing, sending splashes and ripples across the water. My eyelids raised, doors protecting a bomb shelter, and I saw a disconcerting sight. No clouds blanketed the blue of the sky, in fact, no blue hung in the sky either. A peculiar hue of forest green replaced the dazzling sky-blue I was accustomed to. I rubbed my eyes for minutes, hoping something had contaminated them resulting in this impossible sight, but no amount of friction led to the rectification of the heavens.

            I shifted my body to tread the water and noticed the waterfall was gone, hell, almost everything was gone. The only semblance of land I could see was a black mass out on the horizon. Everything else was water, a vast sea of unknown azure whose tides were just asking to carry me away. I tried paddling myself to shore, first with a vigorous front-crawl but finally conceding to a lazy breaststroke. I wished I’d kept up with swimming when I had the chance. Each time my mouth filled with seawater, I found myself perplexed at the lack of salt. There was no way this could be real; the afterlife was a strange place indeed. At least thirst evaporated as an issue; every time my mouth dried, I swallowed a gulp from the sea.

            I’d been at my swim for what felt like hours, and the stretch of land hardly appeared larger. My limbs burned from the swim; there was no way my muscles could last much longer. I floated belly up, the green sky taunting me with its presence. I grew sick of the sloshing of water, and the heavy feeling of my clothes being weighed down with the nonsense. I wished for a dry place; I wished for warmth.

            I heard the sound of what seemed like a tuba in the distance. I righted myself and peered in every direction I could afford, my face screwed up searching for the enigmatic bass noise. My neck grew tired of my head swiveling in every direction, and I gave up on the sound. My mind must have been playing tricks on me. Yet, within a moment, the deep blare returned, this time accompanied by numerous others, and my neck craned for its source. A swath of birds, large as minivans, glided through the sky. One the color of shimmering turquoise broke off from the group and seemed to dive-bomb to my position. I panicked, first splashing like a child in a kiddy pool forward then resolving to dive down deeper than the blur of feather could reach. I snatched as much air as I could possibly contain and dove down, but within moments I was rattled out of the water and into the monstrous bill of the creature. My breaths came on faster and faster inside the dark pink maw; its heat doing little to curb my hysteria. I screamed and pounded on interior but only succeeded in bruising my hands.

Why hadn’t it done the deed and swallowed me yet. I was certain it would be less of a hassle to simply dip me into its stomach for me to melt into a thick red goo, so what kept it from doing so? I tried climbing up to the opening of the mouth, but I constantly slipped down a slippery curve and closed to the throat. A jarring motion shook me in every direction, and I saw the tongue of the beast rise with me on. It smashed me onto the roof of the rock-hard beak and I my world went black.

A Little Experiment

Ok, I’m going to write something, then you guys can respond to how the main character is going to react to the situation. You can either comment here or on facebook. I will not be taking repeats from people; if your suggestion is chosen, no others from you will be chosen for at least 3 sessions, unless if this is incredibly unpopular and only one person suggests stuff for some reason. I have the right to disregard your suggestion if I think it’s stupid/obnoxious/inappropriate. Let’s have fun, shall we?

Your name is Zachary Cunningham. It’s been two days since you took your pre-calc test, and one day since you’ve been grounded for cheating. But c’mon, how the hell else were you supposed to get through that monster? Cosine of 90; what the hell does that even mean? You’ve always figured yourself much better at the physical aspects of school, dominating all the tiny weaklings in gym class, ruling over them with your record track times. It’s unfortunate that you won’t be oppressing any of your less than adroit underlings for at least five months, but there are always methods of subverting the rigid establishment of your parents’ punishment.

Your mom said she could convince your father to get rid of the massive, ornate lock on your door if you cleaned your room, but that’s never been your style. The chains encircling your door mock you, and the lock seems to twist the slit for the key into the smile of an obnoxious jester. You already thought of crashing through the window for escape, but your father installed a sensitive laser grid, prepped to rat you out if you even sneeze in its direction. It also doesn’t help that he set up a medieval moat below your window, with crocodiles and the like. Where does this man get the resources to keep you cooped up with such crazy schemes?

What ever will you do?

Silly Nature Stuff

     So I felt like writing some inane nature stuff that will lead to the rise of the God Pelicans and whatnot. I mean it’s not like I did this for extra credit or some other nonsense I wouldn’t be interested in. Regardless, have at it, me. Oh, by the way, this hasn’t been proofread in the least.

          Water zoomed past my feet, washing away any impurities I’d gathered on my bare toes. The world before me appeared clear as crystal cleaned with the most lavish soaps. An expanse of bark and breathing leaves held my vision, and the walls of gushing water pounding at the rocks I laid down on emitted a soothing screen of sound to filter out any worrisome thought I came here with. The branches of a nearby tree swayed with a steady rhythm, batons keeping the tempo of life in sync with nirvana. I rolled from my stomach to face the sky, a brilliant shade of milky gray thanks to the clouds dutifully weaved together, earth’s quilt in the sky. I closed my eyes to soak in my simple presence of being. Nature was my mother today, and I wished it would never end.

            “Jack, where are you?” I heard in the distance along with the crack of twigs and pound of footsteps.

My right eye creaked open, but my brow furrowed. “Yes?” I said, remaining a log on the stone that suspended me above water.

           The footsteps came closer, and I heard the thumps of shoes as my colleague made the leaps to my isolated rock. “Bro, the trip’s a bust. It’s starting to rain.” Now I noticed the droplets bombarding my skin, and moisture accumulating on the lenses of my glasses.

            “Shit, alright, alright, let’s go,” I said, rising up and dusting off my shorts.

            “Better hurry up, the rest of them are waiting for us.” With that, my chum took more hasty leaps across the rocks and back onto the safety of shore.

            Haste was not something I preferred however. I enjoyed what little time I had to retrieve my backpack and the pair of tennis shoes within, enjoying a fresh coat of tears and mud from my hike up. I enjoyed the pings of water striking the stone surrounding me, and I jumped from platform to platform, ensuring my target was always in the right distance and that I’d land with an aplomb that suited acrobats.

Sky Villains

If you’re going to have a fortress in the sky, you better call it a “lairplane”.

Sometimes

I just sit there and draw birds. I don’t know why. Birds.

Language is a snake. It devours other words to use for itself, and it sloughs off the words it’s outgrown.