Right now the moon is raging on this Chicago sky and making me feel like a manic werewolf in the BEST way. That being said, I’m posting some more in-process writing from the school computer lab and rushing home to my delicious stout. Then I’ll sit on my porch at 2am with a glass and feel wonderful.
This is for my fiction class, I’m starting a *much longer* series using exponents to mutate the focus of these vignettes/chapters. I love feedback of all shapes as it helps me to use my brain.
Here’s a snippet of the first seven I’ll be showing to class:
You are sitting in a room in a chair by yourself. The walls are empty. The carpet is clean. The only sound you hear is ventilation. You think it’s nice, maybe you’ll do some writing. Maybe you’ll let everything be quiet. Maybe you’ll get out your day planner and map out the next month. There is clarity of mind right now. Yet, you manage to feel anxious about this clarity.
You are sitting in a room in a chair and someone enters. They avoid eye contact and have a container in their hand. You wonder what’s in the container. Maybe it has food in it? Does it have papers, or tools, or something functional? Maybe it has nothing at all? They sit in a chair in the corner. There is no mutual acknowledgement. You keep wondering about the container.
You and the person sit in the room. A loud noise clatters. You and the person make eye contact, both of you look startled. The noise is coming from the ceiling, it sounds like a glass piano is smashing the floor above. You both remain seated and tense. The person shrugs and opens their container. It is filled with chips; this disappoints you a bit. They eat their chips loudly. At least you have the dreadful glass noise to distract from the chips.
You and the person eating chips sit in the loud room. The noise continues, but now you can hear a voice. There is a yelping “Idiot, idiot, idiot!” The person eating chips has finished the chips. They put down the container and clear their throat loudly.
You wonder why they would only pack chips. “Idiot!” continues to blare above the sound of glass. For a moment you decide to stand up, maybe standing up will make you less complacent. As you stand up the sound wanes, you glance at the chip eater and they are glaring at you. You notice chip-eater removing a small knife from their pocket. The ceiling sound is dead.
You stand in the room with the knife-holding chip-eater. For a millisecond, it is more silent than ever. Then, chip-eater removes their gaze from you and places the knife on their lap. You are so paranoid, you realize, as they remove an envelope from their pocket. It was the sound, the glass sound, which made you assume violence. Or are you just that suspicious of others? Feeling self-conscious you return to your seat, you look at your hands for a long time. Chip-eater is peacefully oblivious while opening the envelope. There is now a knock on the door. You pretend you can’t hear it.
You and the non-violent chip-eater sit in the room as there is knocking on the door.This time, you have decided, you aren’t standing up for the noise.
“Get the door, won’t you!”
Chip-eater has finally broken his silence, and you wish he hadn’t. Regardless, you let the knocker in. The knocker is a girl who looks like your sister. You don’t particularly care that she resembles your sister – it’s just weird. Chip-eater is reading a letter of some sort. His face looks upset, and you wonder if it is a personal letter. Sister lookalike is walking around the perimeter of the room with her arms crossed. She looks like a nice person; someone who would offer people rides to the soup kitchen, someone who would make jello for her neighbors, someone you might be bored of.
You are still slightly aware that earlier in the day you had planned on writing, or day planning.
You and chip-eater, and doppelganger are all in this room together, you sitting, him sitting, her walking around. Doppelganger continues to circle the room, now she has her phone out texting. You figure she’s walking around because she’s nervous about the texts, whoever is texting must be important. Or maybe she had coffee and can’t keep still. Chip-eater has folded up the letter and is putting it in his pocket; he makes eye contact and winks at you. You don’t know what to make of it, should you start a conversation? No, there’s nothing to talk about, except maybe that glass noise, what was the deal with that? Chip-eater has weird muttonchops, you just noticed. How perfect, chips and mutton chops. You wonder if your face is distinct as well, if you have funny elements that double as afterthoughts. Doppelganger is still texting and vividly reacting. She laughs loudly and you feel annoyed. Keep it to the text, why doesn’t she?