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Clockwork -FINISHED! (Writers Block Entry)
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Clockwork -FINISHED! (Writers Block Entry)
Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2009 7:47 pmThis is the first part of the story - there will be twelve(currently finishing part 2, just want feedback on this so far)
I
The church bell struck noon, its sound echoing through the air long after it stops swinging.
"Wait! Wait!" he shouted to the bus driver, as the door of the vehicle slowly closed – he was late again. His mom constantly nagging – You forgot to bring this! You forgot to do that! – just a few minutes before the bus was about to go, each and every day, it drove him mad. He could just ignore her and leave, but his dad – that wretched stressohollic - if he didn’t do what she asked, he would yell at him and make a fuss, and then he would surely be late for the buss.
He showed his monthly bus ticked to the driver who nodded with a grunt, while scowling. The poor guy was just doing his job, and this damn… kid …always messed him up. Why? It wasn’t his concern. He was just trying to do his job – the kid was a nuisance.
The other kids sitting in the bus looked at him oddly, with a grin, their faces saying “Can’t you just wake up earlier instead of messing up our day, you lazy bum?” or atleast it looked that way to him. In truth, most of them weren’t looking at him at all, just looking into blank space. He was kind of obsessed with what other people thought of him, especially strangers.
He sat at an empty double-seat, and spread his legs across it, his back against the window. He put his bag on the floor while taking out his MP3 player. The bus started moving as he put the earphones on, and clicked the button. The sound of one of his favorite songs filled his ears. He closed his eyes, tired, worn out, and fell asleep.
“The bus is empty….hmm… My god, the bus is empty!” were his first thought when he woke up. The fact that the bus was empty was not so unsettling – it only meant that it stopped at the bus station and all the passengers left. But that wasn’t the case – the hum of the engine and the occasional bump on the road told him that – and he panicked instantly. He quickly stood up, only to see an even more unsettling sight.
There was no driver. The bus was going on its own on a straight, empty road – a one way ticket to a crash course. There was nothing on the sides of the road except some trees and crop fields.
In a matter of seconds he was at the steering wheel, slamming his foot onto the break, which in turn did nothing. Soon he found out that nothing work – the steering wheel, the gas pedal, the gear shifter – nothing. Only the damn speed meter did – 70 km/ph it said, and it was going up a little with each passing moment. He continued to press the break, even though he knew his efforts will yield no result.
“Why the -bleep- aren’t you working!!!” he shouted to no one in particular. The speed meter now stated that the speed was 75 km/ph. Oh the joy.
When he looked out of the window, he saw that the road was not as straight as he though – there was a curve to the left in the distance, and behind it, something dark blue. “Screw this.” He was calm as he said that – he knew what to do.
He knew where the button that opened the door was, he saw the driver press it each and every day for 3 years already, and he quickly found that spot. But the button was not there. Undoubtedly, it once was, but now there was only a hole in the control board, and a cluster wires jutting out of it.
Still not loosing hope, he struggled to find a button on the side of the door, also used for opening them – soon, to his dismay, he found out that it suffered the same fate as the button on the control board. Desperate, he tried to open the door with brute force, even though he knew that won’t work. He still tried though, until he was too tired to keep doing that, and sat on the floor.
He spent a few moments just listening to the hum of the engine and the sound of his own breath – they were almost the same.
Still, he didn’t lose hope – wrapping his fist with his thin jacked, he stood up, and swung it at the window with all his might.
Not even crack. Not even a tiny crack on the dirty glass. “Break damn it!” he shouted and swung his fist at it, again and again, shouting like a maniac. Unfortunately, it didn’t help. The window was still whole.
He fell to the floor panting, his whole body shaking, his forehead covered in cold sweat, the skin on his fist scraped, the blood soaking his jacket. “Why does… everything bad…always…happen…to me…” that was not a question.
The cell phone in his pocket vibrated – a text message. He quickly took it out, realizing what a fool he was not to remember to call or text someone earlier.
But now it was too late – the message was simple, it was only one single word. One word.
“Die.”
The vibration from the message spent the last of the cell phone’s battery, and it shut itself down. Before it did, he was able to see the time – 12:58
For a moment, he looked at the device in his hand, like a caveman, like he had no idea what that thing in his hand actually was. And then, he smiled. He smiled before standing up and swinging the cell phone into the stupid unbreakable window with all his might.
It broke into pieces that scattered all over the place. The funny thing was, the window followed its example, and broke as well – a multitude of small cracks, spreading out from the point of impact like a spiders web. He rejoiced
His joy was short lived – the bus started going downwards, and impacted the water – as it sunk, the murky water of the river broke through the window with incredible force, sweeping him off his feet, sending him flying onto the seat on the opposite side of the bus – the strange “bonk” sound, as he realized soon enough, was the sound of his head hitting the edge of the seat.
As the water covered him, he saw his own blood along with the pieces of his cellphone floating above his head. He smiled.
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Last edited by TheGunslinger on Thu Nov 12, 2009 7:36 am; edited 9 times in total
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Are you sure you want to commit this to WB, Oct?
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Yes, why?
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Chapters galore and the WB have never worked before in the past..
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You sure you can finish the other 6 chapters in 3 days? What you have is good so far.
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Read my Writer's Block Entry for Sept-Oct
http://www.dotastrategy.com/forum/ftopic24881.html
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6? No, 10(i have 2 done). But I requested of Dohyun to give me a week, to finish this. I hope he gives it to me....or else...
@Varun - yeah, I know that. This will be minimum 20 pages, max 30 pages in word. Go figure. But I intend to make it a good one...I need space for what I thought of.
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Continue this,it is very interesting, and mysterious
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Ok typo: Clockwork, not Cloclwork
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Second part!(Currently writing the third one) The protagonist is the same guy. I just gave him a name here.
II
The school bell rang; the classes were beginning, as always, on schedule, 1 pm.
He was on time, despite being late for the bus – he was here for half an hour already, always among the first ones to arrive.
“We have a test on the first class, right?” his friend sitting next to him, Josh, asked nervously – obviously he forgot to study. Again.
“Yes Josh, we do.” He rolled his eyes “You didn’t study again?”
“Well…kinda…no.”
He sighed “So you want my help?”
Josh just nodded. Everything was the same as usual.
The teacher came in, interrupting their conversation – a woman in her forties, short and extremely fat, with a big, messy, red ball of yarn on her head that was supposed to be her hair. The overly formal look on her face was just a disguise – she wasn’t one of those scary teachers, rather one of those that forget what they ate for breakfast, or what are they even doing in class.
She took out her glasses, slowly put them on and opened the registry. “So, we are supposed to have a….test today?” she asked after a while.
The students were not sure whether they should say Yes, No, or just keep quiet. They all decided on the third option.
“Er…I forgot about this….so, we won’t be having a test. Since I didn’t make one…” she slowly muttered, staring into blank space in the pauses between the words, like she was trying to remember how to speak properly. She was always like that.
“So…er…we will…I mean, I will just ask a few of you then.” Everyone froze – even the ones that studied. This was worse than the test. “Any volunteers?” A pause of strange silence – no one wanted to be the scapegoat. “Okay then…let’s see…” she browsed the registry, searching for a suitable victim….
The class dragged on, as a few quick F’s and a few C’s were handled out to the students. Near the end of the class, just about enough time to ask one more student, the teacher picked the one who thought he slipped through, sighing with relief each time a name that wasn’t his was said.
“So…Jeremy” she slowly turned to Josh, and he froze in panic “lets see what you have learned, now shall we?”
“My…my name is Josh.” He stuttered
“Okay John, whatever. Let’s just see what you have learned.”
“He will get an F again…” Peter thought. He knew that Josh wasn’t stupid. Far from it, he could even be brilliant when it came to strategic video games, but he was just too lazy to study. He spent most of his time in front of the computer, and generally slacking off. To be fair, so did Peter, but to a lesser extent.
After a few seconds, before he even spoke, it became apparent that he won’t be getting an F. He won’t be getting anything ever again. A chair flew in through the window, hitting Josh on the head, numerous shards of glass impaling him, as well as the metal leg of the chair – it was now sticking out of his neck, covered in blood, meat and his ripped vocal cords. A moment later, a fountain of blood was released from his body – the poor guy was still alive, desperately trying to breathe with a metal bar stopping him. The teacher, and almost everyone in the classroom, screamed in unison, like a hellish choir of banshees.
Peter quickly stood up, not to help his friend, he was beyond help, but to catch the perpetrator – he saw the bastard slip behind the corner.
He jumped through the broken window, and started pursuing the chair-thrower. Peter was a bit overweight, but his legs were strong, now fueled by adrenalin, he ran like the wind – unfortunately, there was almost 50 meters of distance between him and the one he chased – and he wasn’t slow either.
The perpetrator was wearing a black shirt with a hood, and a big, red number twelve on his back – luckily for Peter, he was also wearing jeans and huge, heavy boots. He wasn’t looking back.
He chased him through the empty school yard, the chase continuing through the empty(why?) city streets (why were they empty?). The chased one tried to slip behind corners, and cover up his trail, but Peter was persistent. God damn, he will not let that killer get away this easily.
The chase continued, both men knowing the city too well to lose to the other one. After a while, the hooded stranger finally gave up on running – he slipped into a small street, a dead-end between two buildings. “There’s no escape now -bleep-!” Peter though in joy – he wouldn’t be able to keep up for much longer either.
But he was wrong – as he ran into the alley, he impaled himself on a knife – right through the chest – the one he chased just stood there, holding the knife straight with both his hands. Before Peter was able to react, his killer pulled the knife out of his chest and stabbed it into the right side of his neck, then swiped his feet.
As Peter fell to the ground, blood gushing out of his neck (he tried to stop it with his hands) he could see the killer slowly walking away, his hand in his pockets. He was whistling something…a song…he recognized it – the power rangers theme. The fcuking power rangers theme. That was the last thing that sprung to his mind before he lost all conscious thoughts.
The school bell rang in the distance, he could hear it, while everything faded to black. It was 2 o’clock, the start of the second class. He won’t be attending it.
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Last edited by TheGunslinger on Sat Oct 24, 2009 2:02 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Suspense Aw, man. I hate stories that focus on suspense.
Very well written though. Just a question, is the whole dream-like atmosphere intentional?
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Yes, it kinda is. But it's not a dream if that's what you thought
that would be waaaay too obvious(and lame)._________________
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If this turned out to be a dream. Alot of people might literally hunt you down and bitch slap you.
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Okay, I will just dump the third part here, before going to sleep. I hope you enjoy it!
III
Peter looked at his watch - it was exactly 2 o’clock, and no teacher in sight. The history teacher was always on time, so this was mildly strange, but no one seemed to care.
“This is the most boring day of the week…” Josh said. Every day was boring for him – well, every day that didn’t involve some class in which we used computers.
Peter sighed “I hear you man…” he was a bit sarcastic, but bored aswell. He was quite smart, so all this school business didn’t appeal to him – those who didn’t try to understand the lessons, but just learned how to repeat definitions like parrots got A’s, and he, who tried, got B’s and C’s. That was just lame.
“My dad is gonna kill me.” Josh said as he took out his mobile phone and turned on a video game.
For a moment Peter was baffled “Why?” he finally asked.
His friend looked at him, with that “Are you -bleep- insane?” look on his face “Because I got an F just fifteen minutes ago. That's why. You even made jokes about it.”
Strangely, Peter could not recall this ever happening – he could recall the teacher calling on Josh(Jeremy, John, whatever) but he didn't quite remember him getting an F…
A strange pain in his head, like a heated spike piercing through his skull, he could not bear it. Suddenly, he remembered – Josh not knowing anything the teacher asked, shrugging his shoulder at every question, the whole class laughing, and the teacher giving him an F.
But there was another memory – parallel with that one – the window left of Josh smashing into pieces, a metal bar impaling his neck, blood gushing, everyone screaming…the screams of this memory, overlapped with the laughter of the other, creating a terrifying sound he could not describe.
And suddenly, the pain was gone – everything lasted but a second. He looked around, terrified, but everything was normal – Josh was still alive and well, sitting in the chair next to him. The window was not broken, and that F had to be in the registry.
“Are you alright Peter?” the voice of his (dead)friend brought him back to reality.
He wasn’t alright. Not alright at all. “I’m okay Josh. Don’t worry about it. Just a cramp in my neck.” He smirked.
Josh shrugged “If you say so.” He looked at his cellphone screen “Hey, twenty minutes already passed from the start of the class – that means we can leave!” and some of the others already left as they now noticed “Shall we Peter?”
His thoughts brewed – he could no go eat now. “Meh, you go. I’m not feeling so good.”
“Whatever.” Josh said as he stood up and put on his jacket.
Peter watched through the window, and waited for him to go out of the school yard before he made his move – he left the classroom and headed for the teachers lounge.
He knew that the History teacher was always, on time – he was a carefree guy, but he was always on time, never a minute late. Something had to be wrong. He could feel it in the air.
The hall monitor was not in his usual place, by the desk in front of the teachers lounge – the only trace of him was the key to the lounge that stood idle on the desk. Peter tried to open the lounge door, but they were closed. Figures. He picked up the key, and tried to use it – but it wouldn’t fit. There was a key in the lock already – on the other side.
He needed to get into that lounge – one way or another. There was still the option of getting in through the window, but he knew it too was closed. How did he know? He just did .
He stepped away from the door, then charged into them with full force – it brought him nothing except pain. The door was still closed. “I should call someone…some other teacher, or even the principal…” he thought, and then discarded it “No. I won’t call them. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
The small desk of the hall monitor caught his attention. Slowly, he picked it up, examined its weight and shape. Then, he trusted it into the door with all his might – the table broke, but so did its target – he threw it aside and charged at the door again – this time they opened with a loud bang that echoed through the empty corridors.
There was no one inside. Noone except a single man sitting in a chair, facing the window. Peter could only see his back, but buy the short gray hair he recognized his history teacher.
Before he looked at the man, he knew what was wrong with him. The stench of death, mixed with the cigarette smoke filled the room.
The teachers throat was ripped out, the already dried blood soaked his white shirt. His head was laid back, his mouth open, full of blood - there was no tongue in it. His eyes were still wide open, but there was no life in them.
Peter had a strong urge to get the -bleep- away from there since the moment he came in, but he resisted it. He had to know what was happening, he had to figure it out. Something was terribly wrong, not just with this, but with…well, everything .
His teacher, his dead teacher, was still gripping something in his hand. He barely managed to take it away from him, his still warm fingers gripping it tight. Almost too tight.
It was a piece of paper – a small, bloody piece of paper. Only one word was written in it, apparently by his teacher, with his own blood…
“Sorry”
It sent chills down his spine, and for a good reason – he remembered the man’s words while he was alive, what he once told them “I will never say sorry to anyone. I never regret anything I ever do.” That basically summed up his personality. What could have happened to change his whole view on life?
He snapped when he heard the school bell ring – he looked at his watch – it was 2:45 – the end of the second class. A mass of students will burst out of the classrooms, and teachers will come to the lounge – how will he explain this to them?
Soon he realized that there was no need to worry about it. Noone came. The halls were still ghastly empty. Now he knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, he had no time to find out what.
A sharp piece of the small table that was lying nearby impaled him in the back – he realized this when he saw the pointy end coming out of his own chest – he tried to turn around, to see who did this to him, but whoever it was, pushed him to the ground, and he fell, face down, smashing his nose on the marble floor. Soon, he choked with his own blood.
The alarm clock of his cellphone rang at exactly 3pm. His favorite song echoed through the empty corridors. Noone was there to hear it.
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Continue...
Well,the main chara always die and respawn again,eh?
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Yes. Yes he does. Except that it's always the same day, just later into the day. Each part continues directly onto the next, except that everyone acts as though everything that happened in the previous parts did not happen, but happened as it would if it was all as usual. It's complicated.
Anyway, here is part 4
IV
He looked at his watch – it was 3 o’clock sharp – he pulled Josh’s hand “Common man, we gotta hurry!”
“Why?” barely spoke Josh, his mouth full of pizza.
“Because we are -bleep- late!” Peter started running
Josh followed, muttering “Oh shit!” with pizza spilling out of his mouths he tried to catch up wit his friend.
They were quick, but not quick enough. The third class started at 3 o’clock, and they were already seven minutes late when they got to the school gate.
“Maybe he won’t come to this class. Y’ know, since he didn’t come to the second one…” Josh had high hopes.
“Fat chance.” Peter said, when he looked at the classroom window and saw the tall figure of a well-built man in his fifties, his hair cut short, completely gray. It was their history teacher.
John Orderly was a quite laidback man – he was once a hippie even, and demanded that his students call him by his first name – but, despite that he was an extremely punctual man. He was never late(except in rare occasions, like today), and wasn’t really kind towards people who didn’t share his sense of punctuality. He often said that it’s better to be two hours early than two minutes late. Peter and Josh were ten minutes late.
He smirked when he saw them coming, and headed towards the classroom door. They were locked when Peter tried to open them.
“So…what will we do now?” Josh asked, while taking out his soda – a cheap energy drink in a big can.
“Well…no biggie. We can go to the computer shop to play some games or something. We have…” he glanced at his silver wrist watch – it was 3:15 “around forty minutes.”
“Well, you got any money?”
Peter searched his pockets “Around…three quarters. What about you?”
“I got fifty cents. That’s enough for half an hour, I guess.”
“Well, lets go then!” Peter said as he stood up and tapped Josh on the back “No time to waste!”
The computer shop was not far away – maybe five minutes of casual walking. Unfortunately, their money turned out to be enough for only twenty minutes – nevertheless, they managed to play a decent game of counter strike before returning to school. They figured they will sit on a bench in the yard, in front of the classroom, until the history class ends.
“So, what if he calls our parents because of this?” Josh was overly worried
Peter rolled his eyes “He won’t do that. Common – it’s John ! You know John! He is a freak when it comes to being late, but he won’t go as far as calling our parents.”
“I guess you are right…” Josh still wasn’t feeling like he was in the safe zone.
As they entered the school yard, they were greeted by silence – that wasn’t supposed to be strange, since the classes were still on – it was only 2:45 – but yet, it was. Peter could not explain, but it was like…like the silence was…more silent. The background sounds, always present, were not there anymore. The only thing he could hear was his own breath, and two pairs of footsteps. And something yet, something distant and…
“Josh.” He said as he froze in place “Stop. Something( everything ) is wrong.”
“What?” Josh turned his head, but didn’t stop walking.
“I said stop dammit!” Josh stopped. “Do you hear it?”
Josh listened for a moment. And he heard it, he heard it in the perfect silence around them. It sounded like…like someone...scraping something? No, it wasn’t really it, it was….
A bloody hand emerged from behind the corner, followed by a girl, her whole body covered in blood – the scraping sound was the sound of her breathing - her throat ripped out, a gaping whole in its place. Her beautiful blond hair was now read, and it stuck to her half-naked body, soaked in blood. She reached out for them when she saw them, and Josh had an incredible urge to run away.
Peter, however, ran toward her, and caught her before she fell to the ground. He recognized her instantly, her pretty blue eyes he was once in love with could be no one else’s – it was Helen.
“Josh!” he shouted “Come here you god damn coward!” Josh ran towards them “Hold her.”
“Where are you going?” Josh’s voice flickered, as he took Helen in his arms.
“To see what the -bleep- is going on here.” He went towards the direction Helen came from, but it was her voice that stopped him, mid-step
“No…don’t…” it was silent, he could barely hear it with his ears, but it was as though he could hear it in his mind.
“I have to. I don’t know why, but I know I have to.” He barely spoke – it was like something was stuck in his throat “Goodbye Helen.” And he slipped behind the corner. Helen’s blood handprint was still on it.
The windows of the classroom were covered in red. Deep, crimson red. He could not see what was inside, but he already knew – a slaughter house.
The door was wide open, broken, torn apart from the outside. The key was still in the lock, and the door was still locked. But that wasn’t enough to stop whatever did this.
He saw the bodies of his classmates, scattered around the classroom, most of them looking like silly ragdolls, their limbs twisted in unnatural positions. Some were still sitting at their benches, their faces buried in their notebooks, while others were lying on the benches, or below them. But they all had one thing in common – their throats were ripped out, clawed out, bitten off, whatever you want to call it. They were replaced by gaping holes.
Suddenly, he had an eerily sense of a déjà vu – he saw this before, he knew he did. His mind struggled to remember, but it was unable to. He knew it had something to do with John, his history teacher….
…who wasn’t here. He was not among the death toll. Peter ran out of the classroom and towards the main building as soon as he realized this.
He found John sitting on the floor in the corridor, beside the hall monitors table, his back against the wall, hugging his legs tight, his face buried in his knees. He was slowly shaking back and forth.
“John? John! What happened?!” Peter shouted, but got no response from the one he was talking to. He came up to him, and grabbed his shoulders “John! Common John, respond god dammit! What the -bleep- happened there! I know you know!” now, there was a response. John Orderly whispered something. Soon, Peter realized it was only one word, he repeated like a mantra.
“Sorry.”
Peter stood there, the strange sense of déjà vu he had for some time already completely taking him over. He sensed the chair that came at him from his right – he saw it with the corner of his eye, sensed the faint breeze of air. But he was too shocked in that moment to evade it.
The back of the chair hit him in the head, and he fell to the floor. He was too stunned to sense it’s metal leg penetrating and piercing his neck – he stopped breathing soon, but he didn’t notice that either, before the colorful marble floor, that usually looked gray, faded to black.
The time on his silver wrist watch, now broken to pieces was four o’clock. It wasn’t ticking anymore.
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