Old 09-15-2013, 04:44 PM   #1
midnghtraver
Icarus Moth
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Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: NYC
Age: 28
Posts: 2,064
Default Ongoing writing project

Every Wednesday in my joke of a writing class we are given time on our own to write and instead of writing poems or whatever our teacher is suggesting, I'm gonna try and write a book.

I figured i'd post as much content as I have here just in case any of you find it interesting.


Prologue

The ball of ash cascaded down to earth, an asteroid destined for impact. It hit the ground softly, dispersing into tiny particles that floated away as they caught the wind. The man took another drag from his cigarette and threw it on the ground. He smashed it into the pavement with his steel-toed boot, smearing the sidewalk with soot. The man pulled his leather trench coat over his shoulders, for it began to rain. At first, the droplets of water fell slowly, following the same trajectory the ball of ash had done just a moment ago, but before long it was raining full stead. He could hear the rain, an uneven drum pattern playing it’s perpetual rhythm, dancing on the brim of his homburg. The rain steadily fell, soaking the silk ribbon tied around its waist making it darker, contrasting it against the light brown of the hat. The crevices created from the wide brims pooled with water from the downpour, finally cascading over the edge. The drops were like frozen daggers, cutting his skin with a chill as they sped down his neck, an unspoken rivalry, contestants, racing to be the first to reach the man’s collar. He shivered, wiping the back of his neck with his sleeve, disqualifying the droplets.

The rain clogged the gutters in the street. Cars and trucks flew by, sending water rushing in all directions, making it their goal to soak everything in sight. Huge, looming buildings reflected the dark sky, surrounding the man in grey. All around, people were running for the sweet sanctuary of buildings, fruitlessly trying to cover themselves from the biting rain. The cold was everywhere, clawing through his trench coat as if it were nothing more than a frail sheet of paper. As he shivered, he gazed across the street, his eyes reflecting the crepuscular scene around him. Never had he been this close. Ten feet. That’s all there was between this man and his goal. To the average person, this ten feet would mean nothing, a distance easily crossable with a few steps, literally as easy as crossing the road. But, to this man, these ten feet meant everything. The cars, the puddles, the cold... All of the rest of it meant nothing. Only these ten feet, and all of it was over. All he had to do was take that very first step.

His breath caught, becoming short and quick. The pace of his heartbeat quickened, pounding from his core with ferocity. In spite of the the freezing temperatures around him, a drop of sweat descended from the folds of his forehead, falling to the ground to join its brothers in moistening the earth. Slowly, the joints in his legs began to respond to his brain’s command to move. Just eight feet more. Every step was laboured, his left knee emanating pain with every connection to the cold, hard ground. Six feet. He remembered how it happened, his knee. The initial feeling of cold from the knife, then the searing pain that came after. The blood that ran down his leg, and the excruciating pain when he pulled it out from his muscle, a splinter, then the pain taking over, making his vision go black. Four feet more, so close he could almost taste it. All thoughts left his head, only those four feet mattered. He moved to take his last step, and then, nothing. The rain swelled in the gutter, and people hid in their cozy buildings. The sky still emptied its charge, never ending. The world spun, the sun shone, but the man was no longer a part of it.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. The man hadn't believed this, but in his case it was true. A mere three feet between him and what he had been chasing for as far back as he could have remembered. He had put so many hours, so much money, sweat, blood, tears, into the pursuit of this goal to be ended by something as insignificant as a public transportation bus, the front of which was splattered with thick, red blood. Screaming could be heard from the inside of the bus where the regular daily commuters sat in utter devastation. From outside of the bus complete silence hung in the air. No one knew what to do, the man was dead. There was nothing to do.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s gone, sir.”

“How depressing. I rather thought we had it this time. Who is the man on the case?”

“Randall sir, but-”

“But what? Spit it out!”

“He’s dead, sir. Hit by a bus, he died immediately.”

“Well… that is most unfortunate. Surprising even. An experienced member of this, company, getting killed by a bus. Well, thank you for informing me of this folly, Raymond. You may go now. On your way out, grab Armand for me, I have some words for him.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Armand
-----------

A man exited the office looking glum. He turned to Armand and nodded, signaling him to enter the office.

“You called upon me, sir?” said Armand, in his smooth, clear voice. He stepped into the large office, wondering why he had been summoned. Armand, at first glance, was a very normal looking person, however, anyone that knew him well knew that “normal” was the least applicable adjective one could give Armand. He wore nothing but black, regardless of the weather, and was never seen without his felt ivy hat, ever. The only part of his person that wasn’t covered in dress was his face. Everything about his face projected friendliness, and his attitude was no different. His ears, a little too big and slightly forward. His lips were as red as rose petals and very thin, almost as if over time they had retreated from his face. However, Armands eyes seemed to break the friendly verisimilitude the rest of his face created. Hard and dark, his eyes conveyed no emotion at all, the only feature connecting him to the emotionless killer he was. Around him was an exquisite display of beautifully carved pieces of wood, stone and other furniture made of various materials. The floor was hidden beneath a huge arabian rug, colored with deep reds and browns. Large windows were covered with thick curtains, barely any light escaping their grasp. Sitting behind the large wooden desk was the man he had heard so much about. This man was almost like a ghost within the company. It is said that every decision is made through this man, yet never is it he who makes the announcement. Regardless, here Armand was, face to face with the ghost himself.

“Sit down Armand, please.” said the man, smiling and gesturing toward a large chair across from himself. Nervously, Armand took his seat, with a small squeak from the leather chair.

“Do you remember our dear friend Randall?” said the man, melancholy in his voice. Armand thought through all the men he had trained with, trying to remember a Randall.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter. All you need to know is that he is dead. And you're his replacement.” The man handed Armand a single folder containing a single picture. A picture of the thing that Armand would have to search for indefinitely. Armand silently took the peach colored folder that would seal his fate, and exited the room.

Chapter 1

Porter
-----------

One minute, Porter was sitting outside enjoying his black double shot espresso with a hint of nutmeg at his favorite tea shop in downtown Cornwall, London and the next he was in the middle of a rock concert, or possibly a sporting event. No, that couldn’t be right, he was at a coffee shop. Where could the screaming be coming from then? Those thoughts, of course, went through Porter’s mind faster than he could dwell on them and after the initial confusion he turned his attention to the scene transpiring on the street before him. An entire 2 minutes went by before anyone made any action. A portly old man in a dark brown trench coat tentatively approached the figure, now lying motionless on the ground in a cocktail of his own blood and rain water. After checking the fallen man’s pulse, he rose and very quietly mumbled something inaudible, almost as if he were about to say it aloud, then changed his mind halfway through saying it. Though no one understood, everyone heard him mumble and proceeded to turn to him, causing him to sport an even more awkward expression on his already uncomfortable face.

“He’s dead.” the man said, much more dismally than the scenario deserved.

“Should… should we call police?” One of the people who was on the bus asked?

“Wonderful idea,” Porter said, appearing out of nowhere to hand the genius a phone, “and tell them to not bother with the ambulance, no need in charging his family for nothing!”

Every eye was on Porter, how could he be so chipper after something like this? How was he so calm, as if nothing had happened at all? Porter, ignoring all the stares, placed himself above the deceased with his hands on his hips.

“Looks like he got hit by a bus.” Porter exclaimed impressively. No one reacted, as Porter had expected. Not a single smile. Not even a giggle. Porter shrugged and continued with what he was doing.

Looking around the scene, Porter noticed two things. The first of which being that the man who had been hit by the bus had an odd tattoo on the top of his head. It almost looked alien, like a symbol from a culture uninfluenced by earth. The second thing Porter noticed was a very dapper homburg just a few feet from where the dead man sprawled. He walked over to the hat and picked it up, studying the brim as if to analyze the quality of the material. Looking back at the dead man, Porter experienced a brief moment of hesitation before putting the hat atop his own head. Smiling, he returned to the scene to retrieve his phone from the man who still held it, frozen, never having called the cops. Porter discretely used his phone to take a picture of the symbol on the mans head and pocketed his device.

Last edited by midnghtraver; 09-15-2013 at 04:50 PM..
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