Friday, August 7, 2009

My story writing

I write stories, if you didn't know from my other blogs, but that's not the point. The thing is, it's hard to find inspiration, to find what tugs me in that direction and what appeases to the audience. It pisses me off that things like this are changed so much...

Well, lets get on with this. My first story, that i've been trying to write for so long! is hatchet deep in the stump of writer's block and I stopped at Chapter 5. Now my second story, hopefully will not suffer the same consequences, considering that it's off to a very good start, but its been an increasingly hard uphill struggle. At times I forget to meet my personally set quota and I miss writing a chapter on some days. I'm getting flooded by thought and it's tough to keep writing with no thoughts and opinions, no reason for it, no inspiration except from whats around me (which is usually enough). Besides that, I still think its going to be a compelling story, for a lot of people, but I need to finish it first, before anything...

Here's my first chapter in Deliverance.

Chapter 1
Our fair city…

Hookers. God damn dirty hookers. I know it’s definitely not a good opening line to my life, but damn is it one that really sums up what I think of the group. I mean, what the hell sort of right do they have to walk up to someone and offer sex? Even someone as young as me! What the hell is wrong with our city. Ha! Our city. That’s a train of thought that hasn’t been acknowledged for a while.
This city, this dump of a God damned hole of complete disregard for life. Filth is what this city has become. Become? Or has it always been this way? I don’t even care anymore, I don’t want some historical bullshit dollop on my lap for my to just bask in the smell. School around here shut down anyway, since they started bombing them.
Schools were okay, but the teachers had no real eagerness to teach us. There wasn’t, I think, a single person who really wanted to handle the sadistic generation we were. I pitied them. They had to deal with us while we were in school, they didn’t have much of a choice. Our lot was a lot of the worst society shat out on a silver platter. Who could deal with us? Aetus Damnare, is what they called our generation in Latin terms. In layman’s terms it means Generation of the Damned. How’s that for dark and bleak? We can’t help it, I suppose, we’re only products of what our parents were, Generation X. When the internet came to be, I’m not sure if that was good or bad, really, but a lot of things seemed to have happened since then, like a big explosion. Hell, there’ve been a lot of explosions since then.

I’m exiting Fall Out, the local safe house for people of my ilk, which is what people call “useless.” I suppose we don’t have much use, but who makes the signs, who sprays the tags, who makes the murals that inspire, who displays who’s block is who’s so that people know what to expect?
I’m walking on Madison Street, going to the Millennium Neutralities. That’s a joke. Neutralities? Millennium is a war zone, most of the artwork there has been pillaged, scrapped, destroyed for money that everyone so desperately needs. Most of the works have been salvaged, except The Bean. Nobody goes near The Bean. A group of doomsayers housed up there, they stole the guns from Manny’s Sport Shop and they attack anyone stupid enough to travel up the steps.
The only really peaceful section of Millennium is the Promenade and the Faces. I know the girl who runs the Promenade area now, she’s got a nice business with her cafĂ© there, it’s pretty nice. It’s where I’m headed now. The Faces on the other hand are neutral because it’s a general agreement, on all turf, that that’s where the lead thug headers meet and it’s where the kids all come to play.
I’m not one for caring where or how the kids play, but at least there’s one specific area for them to be cared for. The Faces have pretty much turned into an outdoor community center. This cities play areas are pretty limited nowadays, I suppose. Ever since the Rebel Reclamation, Chicago really has changed. It’s surviving pretty much on its own and doing a damn good job of it to be honest.
All over what was America, cities and towns were being ground down into cesspools, but Chicago, has stayed as pure as can be with grime swishing around its’ ankles. I guess that’s why they call this place Deliverance. That’s always what it’s known for, Deliverance, for any refugee that’s recovering from post-reclamation shellshock. It’s made this city overpopulated and with too many people in one place at one time, something was bound to happen.
What happened was that in one week, every gang that could, grabbed turf. Fights started happening, people started dying, everybody who wasn’t part of a gang stayed inside their homes. The refugee population was halved, since they didn’t quite have homes. It’s famously known around here as the Uprising. Everything changed that week. Deliverance was split into war on all fronts and within itself.
After that week, it was done, people went outside, but all the rival forces were at a standstill, so they drew ceasefires. I was there when they all shook hands in solemn silence at the Faces. Everywhere was hit hard, but Millennium Park was the bloodbath. It was where we all knew just how bad it got. Bodies all over and still twitching people lay in pain and agony, all of them refugees, who set up there to use the water that the Faces spat. It was at the very moment that ever rival gang shook hands that the Faces sprayed water onto the surfaces, like a pitiful washing the city clean of filth.
No matter what, it still resolved so many problems, it made everything peaceful ground, everything was fine. Then the American Government came back. It’s been open hostilities in certain places for months now, but I’m still not used to the gunfire. I always hated guns, always did, since I watched the Uprising from my room, since I saw the shot which killed my mother, since I watched the peace treatise in Millennium.
So many things that are against so many other things. That’s all it looks like to me, I feel grief or sorrow for what has happened lately, for what has happened in the past, but I can’t do anything can I? It’s all so complicated. Nothing makes sense anymore, especially since the Seraphim came. It feels like a fairy tale.

I’m between the faces, I stand there for a moment, taking in the still operating faces of the two towers which trickle water every few minutes. I look at both of them and then I look in the water at the ground, looking at my reflection. I smile and shrug, going on to the Promenade, life doesn’t have to be so gloomy, at least I’ve got a good haircut.

Hope it sounds good.