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27-05-2008
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#1 (permalink) |
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Head Jester
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Alarm clock
Here is the start of a new idea that has been a' stewing in my head for awhile. Treehouse is on hold because of it, my apologies to anyone who was waiting for an update. But commanding ideas take presence over new ideas. That and this story is motivated by an actual clock that I had gotten a few days ago. As with my other stories, this one is what many people would consider 'unrealistic' (You poor naysayers
 )Alarm Clock, 1.1: Toasty talks, with some metaphorical jam. “Alright, now I want everyone to be nice to Grandpa, you know it makes his day.” My mother said, she was a very interesting lady. She forced these visits to my Grandfather either because she really cared, or wanted to make the appearance that she really cared, I really could never tell the difference. She walked with long, purposeful strides, her shoulder length hair, only a few hairs turning gray, bouncing along with her. My sister and I walked behind her. My sister was an interesting emulation of my parents; she had the work ethics of my father, but the poise and class of my mother. She had just been accepted into a private college, the letter of acceptance in her coat pocket ready to show off. She was dressed well in blue pants, a light blue blouse, and a simple purple jacket. Me…well I didn’t fit into any of those categories. In terms of the big news in my life, I had just been accepted into a community college with no major declared; which was really just a fancy way of saying I was going to be taking Magic, Witchcraft, and Religion 234 because I need something to fill up my schedule to be a full time student. I was wearing some blue slacks, and a tie-dye t-shirt that got me harrowing stares from the management of the nursing home where my grandfather lived. “Hello Henry!” My mother said as she opened up the apartment door. My grandfather was sitting at a chair at the kitchen table, taking apart a clock that he had stumbled across. The whole room was filled various objects and gizmos in various states of disassembly. I couldn’t help but smile at the toaster he had put inside of the TV, he had always like toast. “Oh Henry, there you go again!” My mother said in a gentle mocking tone. At this my grandfather looked up and stared at the three of us as we shuffled into the room. His eyes looked at us lazily, as if he was looking at us through a wall of thick soap bubbles, before they suddenly twinkled into delight. “Mary! So good to see you! And Sara, Mike! What are ya’ll doing here visiting little ol’ me?” He said with his sanguine voice booming around the room. We all shuffled around and gave hugs and kisses before we sat down around the table. My sister jumped a bit when she sat down and removed an odd lump of metal from the seat and placing it back on the table. “Ahh! I’ve been looking for that! Quite a curious bit of engineering, this clock is. I just had to find out how it works.” My grandfather said, he grabbed the piece of metal and slid it carefully into place before cranking a few dials. A few moments afterwards the clock began to issue a soft tick-tock around the room. “Oh very good Henry, I’m glad you fixed it.” My mother said. “Mary! When did you come in here? I just figured out how this clock worked, would you like me to show you?” My grandfather said after a pause. All of our smiles dropped a notch when he asked his first double question. My grandfather used to be an engineer in his younger days, now he lives in assisted-living as his brain slowly goes the way of swiss cheese…I didn’t mean to put it that way…but…ah **** it. It sucks. Our visit was short, long enough to cover the news of what was happening in the family, repeat it a few times, and enjoy toast from his TV. My grandfather had taken the acceptance letter my sister had gotten and now had it proudly stuck to the refrigerator for all of us to see. He must have been very happy with it, because he only needed to ask about it once. My mother took my grandfather’s joy as a good time to leave before it went south. We gave him one final hug and left the room as he began to tinker with the clock again, our visit now just only a faint memory. My mother closed the door softly behind her before taking off down the hallway in the same long strides she used before. My sister took off after her, but I lagged behind for a few moments before following, my head swimming with thoughts on what life would be like in my Grandfather’s state. “Oh Mike! Come back, I wanna give ya something!” A voice shouted through the halls. All three of us turned to see my Grandfather standing in his doorway gesturing wildly with his arms. “Well go ahead dear; I’m sure he’ll give you a mug, or some sort of calendar. We’ll be in the car waiting.” My mother said to my unanswered question. The two of them silent shuffled off as I turned around and headed back to my grandfather. “Come on, come in.” He said as he gestured for me to come in. I sat back down at the same chair I was at before as he excitedly moved around and began putting back together the clock he was fixing when we came in earlier. “I’m not what I used to be, aren’t I?” He asked suddenly, his voice calm, smart, the way I remembered it from when I was younger. I tried to open my mouth to reply, but the words choked on my tongue. I nodded my head in reply. “I thought so. I get little islands of things I remember, I think the letter is about your sister?” He said, pointing to my sister’s letter on the fridge. I nodded in reply. “It’s not that bad.” He said after a moment, “The only things I do remember are you, and learning things. Sure I learn them over and over I’m sure, but not a bad way to live.” “I guess” I replied pointlessly. “What about you, are you in college now?” He asked me. “Umm…just in community college-“ I started to say. “Don’t know what ya want to do, eh?” My grandfather said, I tried to respond but my tongue seemed to flap around uselessly around in my mouth for this conversation. “Don’t worry about it; the journey for finding out what you want to do is far more interesting than doing it. The people who do have a plan seem far too boring for my tastes.” He said as he whacked the clock on the table a few times with the handle of his screwdriver. “Ere ya go.” He said, finally pushing the clock to me. “What?” I asked. “The clock, I know you’re not stupid, it’s yours now.” He said. “Umm…why?” I asked, it was certainly an odd gift. “Well you said you had trouble sleeping, at least I think I remember you saying that. This one makes those cool noises that make you fall asleep better. Give it a shot.” He said to me, sitting back down at the table as the corner of his eyes began to fog. “You start talking about the journey that a person takes, and give me a bloody clock to end it?” I deadpanned. My grandfather only shrugged in response, before he rapidly blinked a few times before he looked me over. “Mike! When did you get here? Would you like some toast?” He asked cheerily. I sighed gently. “No thanks grandpa, I’ll see you later.” I said as I pushed myself out of the chair, the clock clutched under my arm as if I was carrying the Holy Grail. I gave my Grandfather one final look as I went out the door, he was just sitting in his chair now, starting ahead blankly at the wall. I gently closed the door behind me. ** “You’re going to keep it?” My sister asked. I had placed the clock on my dresser and plugged it in, and was now setting it to the correct time. “Yeah, it works; at least I think it works well.” I replied. “It just…It doesn’t go with anything.” She said pointedly. I moved my arm around the room as if it was a letter she had just picked on Wheel of Fortune. “This whole room doesn’t have an ‘anything’; it’s just a bunch of random stuff.” I shot back. My sister sighed gently before she walked away to her own room. I walked over to the door and gently shut it. Flopping down on my bed I looked over at the clock, its irregular shape looked like several clocks smashed together at super speeds. I reached over and pressed a button that was imprinted with some sort of wavy lines. Chuca-Chuca-Chuca—Chuca-Chuca-Chuca I blinked; the sound of a steam train running down the tracks filled the room. I hit the button again and wasn’t surprised when the noise turned off. I hit the noise button again, but this time hit an arrow button next to it; now the sounds of a tropical rainforest bounced off the walls. I heard the soft cry of some sort of bird before I felt my eyelids get extremely heavy. Within a few moments I threw a sheet over me, and fell into a deep sleep. |
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28-05-2008
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#2 (permalink) |
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Lurker
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Not bad at all. At first glance it seems like you're going for the trope of 'object of some sort hypnotizes protagonist,' but to what end? I'll wait and see.
By the way, what became of the Treehouse story? I can't seem to find it (at least, the link on your sig doesn't appear to have any of the story anymore. |
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30-05-2008
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#3 (permalink) |
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Head Jester
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Treehouse is still in the works, this is just a story idea that came by and dominated my mind. In about a month or two I expect Treehouse to take over and then this story will go on the back burner until the whole switch happens again.
Apologies for the ADD writing. 
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05-06-2008
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#6 (permalink) |
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Head Jester
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A really quick segment for tonight, I had this finished a few days ago but I've been working on some other things, mainly on the whole fleshing out of this story, where to go from here, symbolism, all that junk. Enjoy the twists.
Alarm Clock 2.1 A gentle creaking noise nuzzled me out of sleep. I kept my eyes closed as the noise faded away, only to come back a few seconds later. I frowned slightly as the noise repeated itself over and over. “Who’s snoring at this hour?” I asked to no one in particular, finally opening my eyes to look around. A rope hazed into existence in front of me, causing me to stare at in quite bewilderment. I stared in bigger amazement at the ground 50 feet below me. The rope let out another noise, and the basket shot upwards another few feet, although it looked more like half a mile to my eyes. I gave a small yelp and grabbed the sides of the basket till my knuckles went white. “Oh be calmin yeself laddie, ya’s got only a bit’s ta go.” A voice, sounding like two massive boulders crashing into each other, boomed down to me. I looked upwards to see a haggard looking man poking his head out over a wooden platform. He gave me a big smile filled with oddly colored teeth before disappearing just as quickly. The rope gave another creak as I was pulled upwards, and it wasn’t soon afterwards I was gently pulled onto the wooden platform some 100 feet above the forest floor below. “Treefoil is what my name is” The man said, extending his arm to me. He was swathed in animal pelts snitched together, his thick mane of hair covering most of his front and back. Small trinkets were tied down all over, bones on his bracers, knives stuck to his boots. He looked very much like one of those crazy shamans that live in forests that you use to scare children. Treefoil let out a harsh laugh, he pulled his arm back and turned around, now walking towards a small hut built into the tree. “I can unterstan yur hesintatin, I got somes chow inside when yous want.” He said, disappearing behind a flap of leather that acted as a doorway for his small hut. I stood still for a few moments, slowly turning my head around to catch a view of where I was. Massive trees stretched high above, disappearing into the foggy bank of clouds. All around me the sounds of life, and living echoed around me. The cry of birds, monkeys, and Goddess knows what else made me scramble out of the basket into Treefoil’s hut. “Mites?” Treefoil asked, holding up a hand filled with maggots and small creatures with even smaller legs. I gently pushed away his offerings and took a seat by a stump of wood. Treefoul chuckled gently at me. “What?” I asked. “You remind me bunches of da last guy that came ere.” He replied. “When was that?” I asked. “But stixty years ago.” He answered. “Great.” I muttered, “This is the weirdest dream ever.” “This be no dream, I be awake.” Treefoil interrupted. “That’s what a dream would say.” I countered. Treefoil considered this for a few seconds as he took a bite out of one of the maggots. “Besides, I live nowhere near a rainforest. I live in a freakin suburb-“ I began. “What that word?” Treefoul said suddenly, he was now standing on his feet looking me dead in the eye. “Umm…suburb?” I said hesitantly. Treefoil moved closer to me, our faces only inches apart. “Where you from, what planet?” He said slowly. “…Earth.” I answered just as slowly back. Treefoil suddenly darted up and began to grab various objects from around his room. He threw them into a pot that was in the center of the room and began to quickly mash them together. “You need to get out, they be comin for ya.” Treefoil said simply. “Who?” I asked. “They came for the man who came long ago, now they come for you; The Ixphati.” Treefoil said the last word with some difficulty. He reached into the pot and pulled out a massive lump of strange brown goo. “Eat up.” He said, extending the lump to me. “If ya want to live, eat up.” Normally I would have a witty retort, or some sort or wise-ass remark. But Treefoil’s eye held no deception; he believed that he was doing the right thing. “Its just a dream.” I stated objectively, grabbing the lump of goo tentatively. I stared at it for a few moments before an awful sound seemed to surround us. It was something like the sound of antlers crashing against antlers, but also tearing into flesh at the same time. The sound ended just as quickly as it began, and then there was nothing. THUMP……... THUMP……. THUMP.… THUMP.. THUMP. The shadow of somethings legs appeared at the bottom of the hut doorway, Treefoil pleaded via pantomime for me to eat the brown lump of food. Snorting noises outside made me pop the brown morsel into my mouth. “Not so bad tasting” I thought. My body went limp, and I fell face-forward towards the ground. But I landed on my bed, exactly where I had started. I pushed myself up and looked around my room. Everything was there, my books were in the same spot, clothes were still strewn about the floor, and there were no trees in sight. But the sound of the forest still echoed around. I looked around in confusion until my eyes fell on the clock. I reached out with a shaky hand and pressed the noise button, and the sound ceased instantly. I pushed myself out of bed and ran my hands through my hair. “That was quite a dream.” I said to myself. |
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19-06-2008
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#8 (permalink) |
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Head Jester
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My apologies for not updating this story when I said I would, I have been gone for awhile, one of my good friends got very sick, and I've been clowning for him while he was in the hospital.
It seems my status has been downgraded to Lurker, for shame. So let me finally put up the next section of this story, a section that has been stuck in my head for quite sometime, so I am very happy with it, I've even had enough time to put in some old school Greek mythology into the story. A rep point to anyone who can spot it. Let me give you a hint: It can be found in the Odyssey. I'll revel the answer by the next chapter. This chapter is a little short, but the whole idea I have in my head isn't that fleshy yet, when I post the final product it should be much better. Any advice or comments will be well liked. Alarm Clock, Part 3. It had been a week since I touched the Clock. I had unplugged and placed it in the corner of my room, letting it get covered up by ever growing pile of dirty clothes. I had a few restful nights, but mostly my sleeping went back to waking up every hour or so before falling back asleep. But jumping to the present, I had my books sprawled out all over my desk as I dutifully worked on my homework. Laying out the framework for an essay, my cell phone rang. I quickly picked it up and flipped it open without looking at the number. “Yello” I said. “Michael Williams?” A voice said on the other line. “Speaking.” I answered. “You have just been assassinated.” The voice answered back. A small thunk noise came from the hallway before an orange dart flew into my room and hit me on the side of the head. “Yaway!” I shouted, trying to fall out of my chair and take cover before any other darts came flying my way. At least that was the plan, in reality, I just fell out of the chair in an ungraceful heap. “Smooth move Ex-Lax.” Said my killer as she stepped into the room as I unrolled to look up at her. “Beth, why am I not surprised?” I said back to her. Beth was…well…she was a lot of things. When I was in kindergarten, I was the kid that was picked on for most of the time. Beth had moved into the area and didn’t have any friends yet, so when she saw me getting picked on she walked right up to the meanest kid in the class and socked him right in the face. We’ve been best friends ever since. “Cause I’m awesome.” She answered, taking my chair at my desk and putting her feet up on it. “So how have ya been?” “Pretty good, I’ve been enjoying my classes.” I answered. “You bookworm.” She shot back. “Well sorry, last I checked I got into a class that a certain someone didn’t get into because they kept pushing back registration.” I said gleefully. “Oh hush.” Beth said to me, I bit my lip immediately as she grabbed the book for said class, Magic, Witchcraft, and Religion: A Contemporary Study. “I only wanted the class so I could get the book without getting weird looks.” “Like you’re concerned about weird looks.” I said, pushing myself up to a standing position. “Oh, your Mom needed your help for something, she got you a couch or something.” Beth said as she began to open my book to a random page and began reading it. “A couch?” I asked. “Yeah, she got it for you.” She answered disinterestedly. Leaving Beth to her reading, I quickly dashed out of my room to the front yard, where my mother was dragging a couch out of the truck. She saw me and lowered half of the couch to the ground so that the whole piece of furniture balanced on the tail-gate. “What do you think.” My mother said in a tone of voice that sounded like she just found Jimmy Hoffa. “You got a couch.” I deadpanned. “Yep, it was a great deal.” She answered back with the same enthusiasm. “So you got it why?” I asked. “Cause it was such a great deal, and you had enough room in your room for a couch, what do you think of it?” She replied. I looked over the couch, it was an odd collection of colors, mostly purple, with patches of red and black mixed together. “Well, I think I can safely say that I’ve never seen a couch like it in my entire life.” I answered. “I saw it, and thought of you.” My mother added. “I’m not quite sure what to think of that comment.” I said softly as I grabbed onto the back end of the couch and helped carry it into the house and into my room. Luckily it was able to fit through my door with out any major difficulties. “Here, let me help make a space.” Beth said, putting down my book and flinging all my clothes from one end of the room to the other. She bent down to pick up one final object before we where able to put down the couch. “Such a good deal.” My mother said again, her hands on her hips as if she had conquered a battlefield. She stared at the couch for a few more moments before she walked right out of the room. Beth and I stared at each other. “I have no idea what to think of the color.” She said. “Me either.” I added. Beth shrugged before taking a seat on the couch, and went back to reading my book. “So did you come over to shoot me with a nerf gun and steal my book, or are we actually going to do something?” I asked. “I just really like this book, its filled with such cool things, weird fetishes, like this substance called lotus metal-” She began, I quickly moved my hands underneath the book and snatched it from her hands. “I believe I’m the bookworm in this little party.” I said smartly. Beth gave a humpf in reply before grabbing the object she cleared away earlier. It was the Clock. “Is this a clock?” She asked. “Yeah, my grandfather gave it to me a week ago.” I said. “Why isn’t it plugged in?” She asked. “Umm….I had a weird dream.” I answered hesitantly. Beth looked over at me with a bemused expression. “What? Do you need me to punch something in your nightmares now?” She said jokingly. “You haven’t had to punch something for me in years, and I’m not gonna start now.” I replied. Beth got up and plugged the clock into the wall, fiddling with it for a few moments before she found the ambient noise function, a waterfall noise echoing around the room. “Ugh, I hate those things, I can’t sleep unless its totally quite.” Beth said. She hit the button a few more times, before it switched to the sound of a steam train gently traveling over the tracks. The noise made me yawn, I saw Beth yawn soon afterwards. She leaned back and fell unceremoniously onto the couch and gave a soft snoring noise. I focused on the sound of the train engine before I fell asleep. ** “Sir, the party is ready in car 3...Sir?” A voice said. I snapped myself awake to find myself in a dimly lit compartment, barely long enough for a bed and side table. A gently knocking at a door prompted me to open it, a small man dressed as a train porter looking up at me. “Sir?” He said again. “Umm…what was that?” I asked hesitantly. “The dinner party, its just begun in car 3.” The porter said with exaggerated slowness. “Thank you, I’ll be right down.” I replied. The porter nodded before heading off down a thin hallway. I stepped outside of my little room, the ground beneath me gently rocking back and forth jerked my brain to figure out where I was. “Mike?” A soft voice, barely audible over the background noise of the tracks and engine, tickled my ear. I turned to face Beth, who was sticking her head out of a different compartment, her face edged with shock. “Are we on a train?” She asked. |
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