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Fenris
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 Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 3:25 pm Post subject: A Sharp Dressed Man-Chapter 1 Poll! |
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INTRO
He had been sitting there for over an hour. He hadn’t moved an inch. He sat rigid yet relaxed in the seat. He was the only one in the waiting room though. Mary thought he was a bit obnoxious, with that blank expression and classy glasses.
She always got suits here. They always ignored her and her polite pleasantries were equally ignored with a glance and a sneer.
He was different though, she thought. There was something about him. He looked as if he had been carved out of stone, smooth and jagged, perfect and flawed at the same time. He was a wonder to look at. The more Mary stared the more her stomach fluttered and her heart skipped beats. He was dressed very well. The suit that would have made him look stiff just seemed fashionable, classy, perfect.
Mary watched him straighten his tie. He paused, and decided to loosen it instead. The chair groaned as he stood up, the wooden limbs creaking with a sigh as his intimidating frame lifted off its surface. She couldn’t help but watch the muscle ripple under his white Alfani shirt. Her spine automatically straightened itself and she unconsciously pushed her bosom out further as his slow footsteps made their way towards her.
“I’ve been waiting for an hour and fifteen minutes.”
She coughed. “I’m aware of that sir. But Dr. Saheen is busy on Fridays.”
He paused and stared at the clip of paper in front of her, then stared at the empty waiting room. “I’m going in.”
The receptionist stood with a start. “Y-you can’t!”
Snorting, the man pushed past the toll gate and walked into the office. The receptionist stared at the closing door with a mix of shock and frustration. She couldn’t stop him. She knew that, but she had the power of the phone lines.
Her delicate fingers wrapped around the black plastic of the phone.
She dropped it as soon as she heard the booming retorts of a loud gun. There was moment of silence then a crashing sound echoed from inside the room followed by a thick thump of something hitting the tile.
There was a silence after, a brooding afterthought that always accompanies a horrifying act of violence. She waited, hand trembling. The winding cord that connected the phone vibrated against the desk in rhythm with her spastic shudders.
Finally, a sound.
The door swung open and out stepped the tall man in the suit. He paused at the side of her desk as the door closed with a click. He wiped something wet off the breast of his blazer and adjusted his thin framed glasses.
He smiled at the receptionist. Her heart fluttered. Then he walked out the door with a shimmering EXIT sign above it.
Later, as she gave her statement to the police, all she would recall was that he was “a sharp dressed man.”
--------
Ha, a little something I'm cooking up while putting the finishing touches on the latest chapter of DOG. Just an intro though 
Last edited by Fenris on Tue Nov 17, 2009 11:23 pm; edited 3 times in total
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| Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 4:10 pm Post subject: |
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Might be an intro but it is good ... left us with a real good cliffhanger . I'm kinda looking forward to this one !!
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| Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 11:36 pm Post subject: |
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Good stuff - want more now. 
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| Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 12:33 am Post subject: |
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Off to a good start, the cliffhanger really summed it up nice .
Now lets see how good the story is, looking forward to it!
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| Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 2:02 am Post subject: |
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Thanks for the views guys! Here's part 1 of the first chapter. I'll hopefully have the second part up by tomorrow. We're moving, so things have been hectic.
WARNING: LANGUAGE!!
Chapter 1-Dinner Parties
When eating a public restaurant, or a situational and formal dinner at a house, always remember to cover your mouth when you cough. You can either use the classic napkin to mouth approach, the famous cough-into-your-elbow move, or simple cough into your fist for an easy and polite break in your conversation.
The blood hits the side of the sink. It splatters against the white porcelain frame like thrown paint. The crimson dye stains most of the edges and a few drops dribble onto the floor. I wipe my mouth, staining my black sleeves and letting the red become invisible against the cotton. I feel it burning in my chest. The cancer.
It’s strange to think of it as a living being. But it is. It is an organism, a parasite with the sole purpose to destroy, to make something that was strong fall to its knees, gasping blood and heaving dead air.
Goddamn, I’m poetic.
The beige door to my left shudders as a fist pounds against it. I hear Dad’s voice on the other end, concern lacing his tone. The lights flicker in the bathroom. I need to fix the lights. Well, not me, but someone.
“Cory? Cory, are you alright?”
“Just having a coughing fit, Pa,” I say. My tone is easy and then my body shudders as an explosive cough tears through my throat. “Shit,” I gasp.
“Cory!” The knob jiggles and its metal body bounces against the thick wood that holds it in place. “Let me in!”
The coughing fit leaves and I twist the faucet. I watch the water wash away my disease. My flaw. I smirk. It’s funny. The way life loves to throw curve balls your way. Usually, for guys my age, it’s bad acne, a tiny dick, an overactive pituitary gland. But not me. I got lung cancer. From one lousy cigarette.
My laugh echoes in our gigantic bathroom. I guess it means I’m special. My laughter fades and so does the pounding of the door.
The silence hangs in the bathroom like a palpable fog. It's suffocating. I unlock the door and step outside into the hallway. I’m greeted by lush gray carpets and professionally placed frames and antiques.
In front of me stands the prime example of superior genetics. Tall, muscular, a thick full head of hair at 48, green eyes, and slightly tan skin. Strippers would request lap dances from my Dad. I know this because I’ve seen it. They've always seemed to ignore me though.
He’s dressed in his sleek Armani suit. Suede shoes, silky tie, and a blazer that’s worth more than a group of children in several indigenous countries. My daddy.
His eyes critique me and I avert my eyes. He grunts.
“Always look people in the eye, Cory. Come on,” he grins, “You got the family’s eyes. It’s genetic. God only knows why you’re single.”
I’m single because I look nothing like my father. I’m short. I’m skinny. My hair is thin in places that need to be thick and my teeth look like the doctor accidentally bashed my mouth against the delivery table. I’m one ugly sonuvabitch. And proud of it.
I take one more look at my proud Pa and my heart sinks. I’m a fucking disappointment.
Pa smiles and straightens my tie. He glances at the darker patch of black that now adorns my DKNY dress shirt. He glances back at me and flashes that perfect grin.
“Blood on the sleeve, makes you look rugged,” he says with a wink.
Pa never mentions the cancer. He never brings it up, not even when I get home from the doctors. He treats me normally, like the cancer is normal, like everything is fine. And I love him for it. He keeps me from curling up into a little ball in my room and just staying there. From sunrise to sundown. Until the perfect sidewalks of Seeknaught Bay crack and fade, until the sun finally burns out. Until I finally can’t muster the energy to vomit anymore life out of me.
He stands back with his thick fists at his hips. “Lookin’ sharp! Your arms are getting bigger.”
Well, I had been doing chin-ups.
He glances down the staircase. I can sort of see the dining room from the second floor. The Adaams family is here for dinner. Jonathan Adaams, Mary Adaams, and their sexy-as-hell daughter by the name of Rebecca. As I recall, she puts her hand over her mouth when she laughs. I’ve always thought it was kind of cute, even as I looked up from the cafeteria floor with her boyfriend looming over me like a jolly green giant.
“They’re waiting. Mary is worried sick. You gave everyone one helluva scare when you rushed out like that.” He motions for me to follow his lead.
I smooth down my shirt and follow Dad downstairs. I think my shoes are too loud, or too big. There is no way that you can make that much noise going down carpeted stairs. I've got my own sqeaking trumpet of arrival.
We make our way to the dinner table. It's long and polished, made of petrified oak and smoothed down until you can see your reflection on the surface. We got the whole she-bang. Silver candlesticks, subtley placed flower vases, expensive napkins. I take my seat next to Rebecca and I see her give me that little smirk. A condescending smile that says, “Why yes, I am going to talk shit at school about this.”
Mrs. Adaams smiles at me, her pale face a little flushed. “Are you alright, dear?”
I smile back at her, making sure to keep my lips closed. “Ha it’s alright. Just my asthma.”
She chuckles, it almost sounds like she’s relieved. “Oh good, I remember my first husband had asthma.” She giggles like a little girl. “When we were making love, he would sometimes start gasping for air.”
Mr. Adaams almost chokes on his steak. I can even see Rebecca shuffle uncomfortably in her seat. I’m starting to like this woman.
“That’s nice,” I say. I hear Pa laugh quietly.
“So, Cory,” starts Mr. Adaams. “Joining any sports lately?”
I hear Rebecca snicker and she ducks her head, biting those perfect lips as she daintily saws a piece of meat off her slab of cow.
I clear my throat. It still tastes like blood. “I’m not really the-uh…athletic, type,” I explain.
“Cory here,” beams Pa. “Is going to be a famous writer someday.”
Mrs. Adaams perks up. “Really?”
I duck my head. Goddammit, Dad. Keep your mouth shut. I don’t need to seem more like a useless prick then I already do.
“Really?” she repeats.
“Yeah,” I say.
“That’s wonderful,” Mrs. Adaams exclaims. “It’s so rare to have a thinker in your generation. Most boys your age are either groping each other in sweaty spandex and rolling around on a mat, or trying to grab each others balls.”
“Mom!” shrieks Rebecca.
Her mother is unapologetic. “I mean no offense to Jake, dear, but well, he does like to tackle boys.”
“Its football!” cries Rebecca. She’s almost screaming and her pretty face is so flushed. She’s so cute. Every time I look at her, I forgive her for all the hurt she causes me. Inside and out.
I’m too busy laughing to see Mr. Adaams commit an epic face palm. I can hear Pa’s throaty chuckle over everything else. He has such a deep voice. I swear, I think the table is vibrating.
“Anyway dear,” Mrs. Adaams continues, “I think it’s wonderful. I’ll be sure to pick up your famous novels if they aren’t already sold out by the time they hit the shelves.”
She’s a sweet heart.
The dinner continues at a much livelier pace but I keep quiet. I don’t want to say anything stupid. Plus, Dad has got all the humor and confidence that this dinner needs. No need for me.
When it’s time to go, I try to shake Rebecca’s hand. She stares at it for a second, gives me a tight lipped smile, and then saunters out the doorway. I stare at her ass encased in the tight black dress and let out an audible sigh.
A heavy hand rests on my shoulder.
“She’s a bitch. You can do better,” Pa says.
“I know,” I lie. “I’m going to get to bed. School day tomorrow.”
Pa nods and leaves for his office. I watch him go. Pride and envy fighting for a place in my chest. There’s more than enough room. My lungs aren’t taking up much space anymore.
By the clock strikes eleven, the sink is stained a permanent red.
End Part 1
Last edited by Fenris on Wed Nov 11, 2009 3:42 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Smee
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| Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 2:21 am Post subject: |
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Man! In one short part you've got me giggling over Mrs Addams, appauled at Cory's situation, amused and impressed by his general attitude, in awe of the relationship you portray with the dad and all over dying to read more.
Good job, Fenny! 
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| Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 10:05 am Post subject: |
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oh my god Fenny This part is very hilarious because i can actualy see those events unfold in a real life situation. Very blunt and yet very humorous This is a heck of a chapter so far keep it up i'm loving this.
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| Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 4:48 pm Post subject: |
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WARNING: LANGUAGE!!
Chapter 1b-Parks
It is never okay to travel to a park unclothed. Never.
Have you ever woken up to the scent of freshly mowed grass? Have you ever woken up to the sound of the light peppering of sprinklers around you? Woken up to the twitter of the birds in the trees, the skittering of sqirrels and other furry rodents, and the famous monotone of the morning breeze?
No? Good. Because, this was a first for me too.
The sunlight perices through my closed eyelids like vengeful javelins. I moan. I need sleep. I was accustomed to late nights, but yesterday had been the worst. Vomiting till 11 at night, then spending an hour trying to scrub the stains out. It's a wonder that my veins aren't deflated.
Then a spray of water hits me. The wet alarm clock snaps my eyes open and I sputter several impolite words as I backpedal to my feet. I trip on something, and the blurred world of green and brown upends to a light blue speckled with clouds.
What the fuck?
I sit up, rubbing my head and fighting the little man with an axe that was chopping away at the front of my skull. Actually, it was more like a chainsaw. A vibritating ache that spreads like a stain. The pain branches off from my forehead and travels down a sickly path to my molars. It sits there like a satified beast, digging a burrow to rest.
Man, it hurts. And where the hell am I?
I look around. I'm in a park. A park. Why the FUCK am I in a park? I should be in bed. I stand and wipe the peices of wet grass and moist dirt from my bare ass. Bare?
Oh my god.
I'm naked. I'm stark naked in the middle of a random park. I can see it now. I'll be the goddamn figure head of Pedophile's Anonymous if a little girl happens to see me. I need to get out of here.
I don't even bother covering myself, there's no real point. Plus it feels kind of nice, the way the breeze rustles between my legs. This is what the early civilizations must have felt everyday, free from the chains of society and proper culture. I look down. Then again, maybe clothes are a blessing.
I need to figure out where I am. What park exactly at least. But then, I see the street signs. Nettlewood Drive and Fortwort Way.
I recognize this park now. I recognize the pristine streets that skirt across the almost too green grass and I remeber the all too familar sense that all these trees have been strategically placed for maxmum shade.
I'm about two blocks away from my house.
I must have slept walk. Though, I usually don't sleep naked. But whatever, Dad said this cancer was different. Even the doctors said I might have some bizzare symptoms. Although, I never expected it to branch into my sleeping patterns.
The idea of home and the saftey of my room catches hold of my imagination. I make a break for it. I wince at the slapping sounds I start to unintentionally make as I run. I briefly wonder if anyone who's watching is impressed.
Probably not.
I dodge past the trees and jump onto the sidewalk. I run as fast as I can from there. I follow the curves of the sidewalk and jump over the sewer grill. My back hurts. It's a stinging pain that I know accompanies a deep cut. Did I get it from when I fell?
The more I run, the more my back hurts. It starts to clench involuntary, sending waves of pain through me with every pounding step. My vision starts to waver. I've never been able to take much pain when I was little. But over the years, I've learnt to deal with it. To push it so deep inside that it doesn't register. To bury it below.
I keep running.
Two minutes later, and I'm home. I stumble inside the house just as Pa walks into the kitchen in his silk bathrobe and cup of coffee. We stare at each other for a few moments. I see his eyes flick down and widen as they flick back up.
We both stutter. I win.
"I don't know. I don't know. Please don't ask."
He stays silent and takes a sip of coffee. "I think you should get dressed. You've got about an hour and a half before school."
That's Dad. Always taking the wierdest shit in strides. Nothing ever affects him. Nothing can peirce his thick hide. He's raw yet impenatrable, unmoving yet can bend when he needs to.
What happened to me? I glance at my reflection on the marble kitchen floor. Thin, weak, shaking like a leaf. A dry, dead leaf that still clings to the branches for no reason at all. And now I'm waking up naked in parks. I almost cry.
Why the fuck is this happening to me?
"Cory. Take a shower," Pa says gently. His words spur me on.
I hurry upstairs and I wince at the dirty stains I leave on the carpet. But I don't care. I hurl myself into the shower and scrub away the dirt and sweat that covers my body. As I turn to place be back against the stream of cleansing water, pain lances up my spine.
It's like I've been shocked. It shoots up and down my back and my chest tightens. I can't breathe. My throat convulses and my mouth opens wide, trying to beckon the damp air to come rescue me. But I can't find the strength to suck any life back into my lungs.
I fall to my knees as agony courses through every thin fiber I have. I get light headed and the world starts to spin. I can feel blood in the back of throat. Just waiting to pounce at the opportune moment, waiting for when I can't properly control anything.
My cancer intends to drown me. It intends to fill my throat and lungs and mouth with blood. A baptism of the most natural kind.
I urge it on. Do it already. Go on. It doesn't matter anymore. I won't be able to take much more of this anyways. Do it.
And then a silken angel slides open the shower door. The fog escapes from me and floods out the new door. Strong hands grab me and lift me up off my knees. I try to struggle. 'No', I try to to say, 'leave me here. It's all for the best. If I go, Pa will get on with his life. He won't have to wait anymore.'
The hands wrap around my chest and then I'm thrown over a burly shoulder. 'Stop', I think I say, 'It's all for the best. I won't be a dissappointment anymore. Just a memory. Memories are always better.'
Stop being so fucking pathetic.
I don't know where it comes from. It just booms inside my head. Like someone had installed a microphone and speaker into my cranium and had finally decided to speak. I shut up. I'm not pathetic. I'm not.
The angel carries me across the hallway.
It's what an LSD trip wold feel like. The walls swirl and the portarits slide up and down in serpent like patters. The carpet grows like grass and the wooden handrails that follow the stairs down to the first floor twist and began to crawl away.
Oh shit.
The stranger pushes open my bedroom door and we saunter into it. As I'm being moved closer to my bed I see a stranger come in. He leans against the doorway.
He's as almost as tall as Pa, dressed nice too. I can see muscle press against the sleeves of the black dresshirt he's wearing and his chest sort bulges out against the pinstripe vest. Not too big not to little. A regular Quantum of Solace James Bond.
I hate him.
I can't see his face though. Whenever I try to focus on it, the walls go crazy and the clothes on the floor rise up and scream. He has my kind of hair though, thin and thick in places it shouldn't be. His arms are crossed, he's dissappointed.
Oh well. Fuck him. He doesn't know me.
I'm gently laid in my bed. Pa stares down at me, a smile on his face. He brushes my weird hair out of my eyes and chuckles.
"Always getting into trouble. You'll be fine, Cory." He smiles grows bigger and there's a twinkle in his eye. "Things are going to get better."
END PART 2
DP
So, my friends, a bit of a weird one.
Does Cory go to school? Or does he stay home? Or does he head to the docotors? Or any other suggestions?
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Amichan
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| Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 6:46 pm Post subject: |
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Not a bad Chappy Fenny!! there are a few spelling errors be sure to double check those i found one
| Quote: | | It's what an LSD trip wold feel like. |
Think what you were going for was
| Quote: | | It's what an LSD trip would feel like. |
Over all very good.
As for the DP i would want to know more about what had happened the night before i would decide to go anywhere. from laying in bed to waking up in a park 2 blocks away i would want some answers
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| Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 1:33 am Post subject: |
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Interesting indeed.
His dad seems great, but at the same time frustrating, because right now it would be useful to be able to talk to him rather than just getting meaningless reasuring comments.
Asking things like - is there an injury on my back? Who is that strange guy? Why the hell did I leave the house naked and head to a park?
After waking up, my answer will be stay home and try to get some answers. His dad knows something he's not telling too.
~
Watch out for your ei, and ie order... pieces and pierces, instead of peices and peirces.
There's some typos that should be spotted by a spell check too like "remeber".
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| Quote: | | I wince at the slapping sounds I start to unintentionally make as I run. I briefly wonder if anyone who's watching is impressed. |
Rude! *giggles like a teenager* 
~
Happy Writing
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| Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 8:57 pm Post subject: |
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Impressive indeed! I do believe you have got me hooked.
The only thing that slightly annoyed me was the very end where there was a sudden change in tone when the stranger "saves" our main character. The father is suddenly speaking as if he has been planning this moment, but I wonder how you plan a moment that could only have been an accident, or possibly I have interpreted this wrong...
As for the DP, Hmmmm... to be slightly more non-conformist I would say he does something with this mysterious stranger. Though this is very hard to say, because I do not really know the twist of the story (because it seemed to have a pattern until his father suspiciously said "everything will be better now"). Such as if his father is part of some secret goverment agency and the stranger is an agent working for him. Or if they are both from the world Larg and wish to use their healing powers to save the main character .
Those thoughts aside and under the assumption he doesn't appear to be interested in the stranger and what his father is up to... go to the doctor. There he might discover something spectacular or overwhelmingly odd that might match with what his father just said.
Hope my random musing have been of some help, looking forward to the progression of this brilliant new SG!
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Fenris
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| Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 9:52 pm Post subject: |
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| I was hoping i wasn't being to vague with the whole silken angel thing, but the person who rescued him from hit fit in the shower was his father. And while his dad was carrying him into the room, he noticed a stranger leaning against the doorway.
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| Posted: Thu Nov 12, 2009 9:55 pm Post subject: |
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well then alluding back to my previous post i must add then i would be asking who that stranger is as well and why he is there and if he has any connection to the main character waking up in the park stark naked
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Tikanni Corazon
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| Posted: Sun Nov 15, 2009 11:01 am Post subject: |
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I really like this SG, Fenris. I hope I don't have to wait too long to read more!
Considering that this attack seemed particularly nasty, Cory should probably rule out going to school.
One can't help thinking that his doctor is probably the one that was killed in the intro, and that it was either his dad, or this mystery man who did it. But this is just my opinion, not fact.
So, I think that Cory should make an appointment to see the doctor, then we'll find out a few things.
Again, great story.
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.... there is no religion without love, and people may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all a sham....
Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, 1887
 
 
  
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Fenris
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| Posted: Tue Nov 17, 2009 11:23 pm Post subject: |
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| Poll is up!
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Bookwizard
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| Posted: Sun Dec 06, 2009 1:48 am Post subject: |
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Darn I missed the poll! At least what I would have voted for won anyways... Looking forward to the next chapter.
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Tatkret Sos
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| Posted: Sun Dec 06, 2009 11:16 am Post subject: |
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This is a really great story! 
Darn I missed the pole too!
Can't wait for the next part!
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scissorkitty
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| Posted: Sun Dec 06, 2009 5:36 pm Post subject: |
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Ooo! I like this one! I'm captivated!!
I'm sorry I missed the poll.
I didn't initially understand that the "silken angel" was his father- the change in tone where was a little hard to understand.
Hmmm. A stranger that looks VERY like our protagonist, only healthy and whole, who's face we're not able to see... and things are going to mysteriously "start getting better"?
I'd say his shadow had been ripped out, somehow, and made into a separate being who was intent on taking over Cory's existence. A shadow that was much more in the mold of dear old dad. OR, perhaps Cory was the shadow himself, and now his original self had reappeared at last? Either way, it would be an interesting twist to explain the back wound.
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......back and forth.....
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Tikanni Corazon
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| Posted: Tue Dec 08, 2009 9:10 am Post subject: |
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Reading the whole thing through again, I think that there is something a little Jekell and Hyde about it. It's all very mysterious!
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.... there is no religion without love, and people may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all a sham....
Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, 1887
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Bookwizard
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| Posted: Thu Dec 31, 2009 4:45 pm Post subject: |
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God, thinking about this story just makes it better and better, a very fascinating suggestion kitty. Should we be expecting a new chapter any time soon?
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| What should I do? |
| Stay home and try and figure out some answers? |
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33% |
[ 1 ] |
| Go to school like nothing happened? |
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0% |
[ 0 ] |
| Go to the doctors to have the wound checked? |
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66% |
[ 2 ] |
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| Total Votes : 3 |
| Who Voted: Crunchyfrog, Smee, Tikanni Corazon |
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