Monday, 30 January 2012

.... The next Morning.

… and of course as soon as I wrote that down, I go to bed and wake up 6 hours later not with one, not with two but with three ideas for stories, witnessed in utter detail through storeams. The question is will I be able to write them down as excellent or will they make zero sense? Run, forest, run. I am so anxious to write them before they fade, I haven't even had the chance to brush my teeth and I could swear I smell my shmorn charcoaling.

The second story takes place in the dark night on some remote world, like another planet or an abandoned country. Something is there, in the dark and a large freight container with a probe is neatly set to test it. Another unit, a vehicle with crew, watches from a dark distance with their lights off. Very quickly something very large and powerful completely annihilates the probe and moves closer to destroy the car, too. It moves in a ship of its own, the very last inch of it hitting the car as it prowls by. Chase ensues and the car (I am partially in it and partially watching this as if it was a cameraman), which is an armored blue thing, tries to hide in an urban area. But in the garage they enter, there is a very large metal door and a woman, wired with explosives and detonator climbs the podium in front of it to give a speech. The drivers of the car know that the second they move she will push the button. It turns out she is a lovely, blonde, well educated, used-to-be-completely-normal wife or widow of one of their unit, recruited to become a suicide bomber in the fight against -  the likes of us (who aren’t even really sure what is happening). She walks down to the car and around us, dragging the long colorful wires with her until she circles the car and we are sure it’s over, but then she untangles it again, walks through the big metal door and detonates there. The explosion is so powerful it knocks the iron gates towards us, tearing the car apart and we have to flee on foot. Now I switch to a tourist who is trying to smuggle out one of the members of the armored car crew. It’s still night, still kind of raining and I arrange for my mum abroad to purchase two plane tickets. Although it’s mandatory for all foreigners to avoid planes, because planes agitate people, I assure them I used to be a flight attendant. That gives me an idea. I dress the soldier woman, who is still in a bit of a shock and myself in pretty red stewardess outfits and go get the tickets. Another problem is that all people who appear simple must be tranquilized for the flight. We don’t want that to happen, because we worry the injections might be overdoses. While my passenger is sitting, waiting, worrying, and the woman behind the counter who wouldn’t calculate the difference between the paid tickets and their money goes away for a bit to tranquilize a mongoloid girl passenger, another clerk approaches me. He’s like Dr. Reid from Criminal Minds and he’s nice enough to calculate my debt, which is about 40 or 60 bucks. Not much, but more than I have. I ask him to lend me the money which I will mail back ASAP, or blow him for it or whatever, just to help us, which, I sense, he wants to, because he knows otherwise the lady I’m trying to help will die. I woke up as we walked through the boarding gate into a reasonable safety, although I dunno. Lots could happen afterwards.

The first story is more start to end and it’s closer to Name of the Rose and Vampire Hunter D – two search entries I wrote into Wiki just before I went to bed last night. (I was cold as a stone, by the way. It actually hurt and felt numb at the same time.)
    The story began in a castle – like monastery, though in present time, on a heavy dark day. I was a part of s sort of hunting party. It was normal times, normal people, we were mostly talking about the landscape and economy and stuff like that. Then it became kind of clear this is more like a prison and we are visiting. I know because one of the party members suspected this and he got locked away for a while. I was in the cell with him, so when we were allowed to come out again, we agreed to participate in the hunt. And we could have sworn that at least one of the members of the party, wearing hooded robes, had death’s instead of a normal face.
At first it looked like we are going to hunt game, we mostly even wore olive outfits, but then we sort of had to use mailman scooters to ride around which in a hilly forest roads, full of old cones and wet spruce needles isn’t so easy. Some did great, of course, even across fields and clearings. I had a jolly good time driving around, the air was nice and warm, and even though the sky was so dark and packed it looked like it was about to rain any moment now. I had no intention to shoot anything, but then I saw, down in a valley below me on the left, that the hunters and villagers were chasing a banshee. They chased her into a power line, which she tore, but kept dragging behind her, until she pulled most of her chasers up on the road where she was ultimately overcome. I realized we were not hunting animals at all, we were hunting mythological monsters.
Upon rendezvous, most of my party members have slaughtered something and dead things were now on display in the castle yard. We were going to clean up and have a feast. However, now almost all of those who had killed something wore robes and they were taller and thinner. I watched them climb the stairs and as light hit their faces, I could see monsters, demons and fiends. Those of us who followed, some were pushed off walls, some were simply pushed into dark corners or wells, some were stabbed. One, who tried to joke when a demon leader asked him what’s inside of his body and said my internal organs/ intestines, got his head broken off. I knew that, once I was in the room where this all began, I was fucked. If I don’t come up with something. But what? They started talking about religion and so forth and for a while I listened to the prison noises, then interrupted the head speaker and said there are … I dunno … some other truths or something and that I don’t really believe in any God so intensely as to see the world according to anyone but myself. This made them all go quiet and they proclaimed me a heretic and thus one of them and I was safe. A girl in the midst of a demonic hunting party in a prison of last righteous souls…

DOES this make ANY sense?


I’m gonna keep the third one for myself. I need it to answer a long-nagging-question and finish a book. Some stuff in my world should be alright again, after that’s done :) :)

PS Oh, wow. It snowed all night and there’s actually like an inch of snow on the rooftops.