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    Mercy
    The Master of Horror
    The Master of Horror

    Posts : 1410
    Join date : 2010-11-21
    Age : 24
    Location : Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

    New story I'm writing

    Post by Mercy on Tue Sep 25, 2012 1:12 pm

    Professor Ashlym


    The constant ticking of the clock made Professor Ashlym cringe as he paced his office in perfect figure eights.
    The sound seemed to almost take up his thinking space. He stared at it for a moment, walking towards it. The door swings open and the professor whips to the sound, his right eye twitching a bit.

    “It’s just me, Doc.” Harry says with a small smile, placing the professor’s lunch on the table.

    “I want that clock fixed.” Ashlym jabs his pointer finger in the clock’s direction, “It’s driving me nuts.”

    “Doc,” The boy shakes his head for a moment, “It’s fixed—

    “Too loud,” the man mumbles, setting himself down in a chair, running a hand through his hair, “Too loud….”

    The boy picks up the small orange pill bottle and shakes it, “Have you taken your meds today?”

    The Professor stares up for a moment, “No…It… I can’t… I can’t see the answers… I can’t…”

    “Doc, remember what happened last time you didn’t take them?” Harry opens the bottle and places a bright white pill on the Doctor’s plate and hands him the glass of water.

    “No, Biyer, you don’t under—“

    “Professor, please…”

    The man lets out an exasperated sigh and places the pill on his tongue, bringing the cold water to his lips, swallowing the pill. A look of disdain slides across his face as he does so and he swallows it with a cringe.

    “Fuckin’ pills…” He grumbles, rapping his fingers against the mahogany desk.

    Harry takes a seat, opening the folder that he was holding and he hands the Professor a stack of papers.

    “Here are the papers that you asked me to print out.”

    “Alphabetical order?”

    “Of course.”

    “Thank you, Biyer.” He says, taking the papers, they began to shake as his clammy hands grasped the stack.

    Biyer begins to pull out his planner and looks up at the Professor, “Remember, you have your first class at noon.”

    Ashlym sighs, “Great, another year, another batch of students ready to have their brains molded into what the government wants us to be like.”

    “If you’re so against the teaching system, why are you a teacher and not to mention the head of the Neuroscience department here?”

    The man takes a bite of his apple and sighs, “Because,” he swallows a bit, taking a sip of water, “If I didn’t teach, where would I be? In a padded room with some doctors pretending to know what is right for me?”

    Harry sighs for a moment with a small laugh, “Well if you don’t take your pills you might end up there.”

    “Don’t start with me Biyer,” the man grumbles, crunching into his apple, staring back at the clock for a moment with a grumble, “Too damn loud…”

    “Well if it’s so loud, why don’t you take the batteries out?”

    “No!” The sound rumbled through the office, “I … Need it…”

    Harry raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think I’ll ever understand your logic.”

    “Join the club,” the man looks down at the papers, “They probably have T-Shirts and little coffee mugs.”

    “Biyer!” He growls, “I told you that I didn’t want this part in here,” He begins to scribble out a line in the syllabus with his infamous red pen.

    Dr. Ashlym was known for his exquisite red markings on student papers, he was – according to RateMyProffesor.com – one of the hardest graders on the entire college campus. He had the same red fountain pen ever since he started teaching, it never left his shirt pocket.

    “Sorry, Doc.” Biyer says, standing over the desk, craning his neck to get a closer look at it.

    “And I thought you would be a good intern.”

    Biyer’s face drops for a moment, until he sees the smirk flying across the Professors face. Dr. Ashlym was a terrible joker, it was probably the fact that his medication kept him from feeling a lot of emotions, and the fact that he was highly intelligent.

    Biyer sighs for a moment and stretches, “Well, I got to get to class, but I’ll see you in fifty….Try not to do anything obscure…”

    “Can’t make any promises, Biyer,” the doctor smiles,

    “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

    “Thanks, Dr. Ashlym.” Harry picks up his things and walks out of office.

    Ashlym finishes his apple, all the while staring at the clock. Tick, tick…tick…

    All of a sudden the clock began to whirl forward, the hands on it spinning, faster and faster. The professor blinks hard, and shakes his head, “Damn meds…”




    Carol

    Five minutes out of the shower and Carol was already swarmed by her youngest child, asking for cookies and sweets. Carol sighs, wringing out her hair and tying the string from her robe around her waist.

    “Mommy’s going to make dinner, don’t wanna spoil it do ya?” She asks with a small smile as her youngest child wraps their arms around her legs.

    “MOM WE’RE OUT OF SODA!” Her oldest, Jordan, --who was eight -- begins to screech from the kitchen.

    Carol sighs, “You don’t need any more soda, Jordan. There’s some juice in the fridge.”

    “Juice is for pussies!”

    The young mother gasps, “Where in the hell did you learn that term?” Her dark blue eyes narrow on Jordan as she makes her way into the kitchen.

    Sure this wasn’t exactly where Carol wanted to be during this point in her life, but the divorce had left her with no money and two ratty-haired, wild boys.

    Jordan shrugs, “Mannie taught it to me.”

    “Well, does Mannie know what it means?” Carol raises an eyebrow.

    Jordan’s face burns bright red and he backs off the conversation with an inaudible sorry.

    “So what do you guys want for dinner?” She asks them, opening fridge.

    “ICE CREAM!” the youngest bursts out, his voice shrill and full of life.

    Carol chuckles softly, “Love, ice cream is for dessert.”
    The young boys face flops for a moment.

    “How about I heat up a pizza and we can pop in a movie?”
    It was a Friday night, Carol wasn’t in the mood for cooking some extravagant dinner. A double shift at work left her ragged and tired, all she wanted to do was spend time with her kids, kick up her feet and relax. Maybe add a glass of wine in there.

    “Movie, movie, movie!!!!” The youngest dances a bit and stops for a moment, “C-Can we watch Peter Pan?”

    “Aw c’mon mom! We’ve watched that a bazillion times!” Jordan spits his words out through gritted teeth.

    “Well, let’s look,” Carol pulls out a frozen pizza and turns on the oven, waiting for it to heat up, and they make their way to the small, yet cozy, living room. A small TV was stuffed in the corner, and a box of toys sat in the middle of the living room.

    Carol begins to look through the movies and she pulls out one, “How bout this one?”

    Both the children nod with a smile.
    [[Need to Finish Carol]] 


    Caleb

    The sparkling lights had always been there for Caleb, ever since he was a baby they had been dancing like fae around his head. They almost seemed to call his name; he would play with them at night like puzzle pieces, moving them by the touch of his fingertips. They were strange, pulsating like small hearts; he would see them at school, in his room. He figured everyone saw them, so he didn’t think twice about them.

    A knock on his door, and the sparkling lights dispersed quickly as the door creaked open, the light from the hallway streaming into his room.

    “Hunny, why are you playing in the dark?” His mother laughs and he shrugs, “Well, c’mon, we have dinner ready.”

    Caleb jumps out of bed, his feet padding against the cold tile floor, his mom runs a hand through his dark, ruffled hair.

    As they make their way downstairs, Caleb takes notice his step father was setting the table; a smile brightens on
    the man’s face.

    “There’s my little man!” He goes in to hug the small boy, but Caleb backs away slowly behind his mother’s leg. The step father’s face drops for a moment and he looks down. His hands clasp together with a loud clack and he rubs his hands, “Well we have dinner waiting, chicken, mac and cheese, and some green beans.”

    “Thank you, hun.” The mom says to her husband with a smile, coaxing the small six year old from behind her.

    Caleb sits down cautiously and begins to play with his knife, the lights were dancing around it.
    His mom’s hand sweeps the knife away from Caleb and she looks at him, “Please, don’t play with the knife, they’re dangerous and only meant for eating.”

    She places it down on the napkin again and Caleb’s hands fall to his lap, “Sorry, Mommy.” He says, his voice was quiet, raspy almost, as if he never talked much at all.

    The fact of the matter was, Caleb was almost always sick; their medical bills were up the roof due to his constant flu’s, stomach ulcers, asthma and multiple other symptoms that were almost unexplainable. His mother worked hard to keep him safe, but it wasn’t enough due to the fact that his step father was a penny-pincher. He had missed almost half the school year due to being in the hospital for so long with his asthma.

    Caleb watches as his mom pulls out the small prescription bottle and she places one of the meds on his placemat next to his water. She then shakes his inhaler and places that next to his water as well.

    The big footsteps behind Caleb make him jumpy until he realizes that it is just his stepfather, bringing the food in from the kitchen. Caleb’s stepfather was a big man, at least six four and probably about two hundred pounds of muscle – he used to be a football player in high school before his knees gave out. A slab of chicken was placed on Caleb’s plate as a sturdy hand grasps the young boy’s scrawny shoulder.

    “Eat up, son!”

    Caleb grumbled something but began to eat, and his mother sat across from him, his step dad at the head of the table. There were a few moments of silence before Caleb’s mother broke it.

    “So, did you learn anything new in school today?” Her eyes flicker over to Caleb and he shrugs.

    “Not really… I got picked on…Again…” His voice turns to a small whisper.

    “Son, listen, now your old man here was picked on too, but what you gotta do is show ‘em who’s boss,” his step father takes a huge bite of chicken, and finishes his sentences between swallows, “You gotta get buff, show ‘em a little rough n’ tumble. Y’know what I’m saying?”

    “Don’t resort my son to violence!” Caleb’s mom throws a dagger eye at her husband and he shrugs.

    “What hunny? Boys will be boys, you know that. I mean Christ, in my day we’d beat someone up for sayin’ shit to us.”

    “Richard!” His mother’s voice overpowers the dinner table
    and she turns back to Caleb with an apologetic smile,

    “Listen, sweetie, why don’t you just talk to a teacher about what these boys are doing to you?”

    “They won’t listen…”

    “Well of course they will.”

    Caleb shakes his head, not even eating anymore, but simply just cutting it, “Nobody likes me at school, they all think I’m weird..”

    “It’s because you’re smart, they feel inferior.”
    “You know how kids are, they don’t like anyone who’s smarter than they are.” The man boasts, “I mean, we used
    to beat kids up for—“

    Caleb’s mother shoots him a glance and he shrugs, bringing his whiskey to his lips, “Just saying…” He takes a gulp and slams the glass down on the table, the sound makes Caleb jump.

    “So, Richard, how is the new project for work going?” His mother breaks the silence.


    “It’s terrible! Some bastard kids decided it would be good idea to break the windows of the house we’re working on and spray paint the shit out of it.”

    “Well,” the mom says, looking down for a moment, “That’s not good…”

    “Yeah! Then Johnny’s knee gave out and he had to go home, which put us at least an hour behind schedule…” he shakes his head, taking another drink of his whiskey, “Fuckin’ pussy.” He mutters under his breath.

    Caleb’s fists clench a bit out of anger and his hands slam down on the table, his mother looks up, startled.

    “Well, what if your knee gave out, and someone was blaming you for that?” Caleb shoots back at him and Richard looks up slowly, wiping the left over whiskey from his lips, his eyes narrowed on Caleb.

    “Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?” He growls, his fists clench around the shot glass.

    “Yeah, she did, and you don’t have any!” He screams at his step father, standing up and running to his room, he could hear his mother cry out his name, but he ignored it, slamming the door and locking it.

    He curls up by the door, placing his ear against it, and listens to an argument arise through the thin walls of the house. The sounds were muffled at first but he could make out what they were saying.

    “You didn’t have to blow up like that! You know how sensitive he is ever since his father left!” His mom hisses.

    “The boy needs to learn respect!” Richard’s voice booms through the house and Caleb cringes, resting his head against the door, he could hear the footsteps growing louder.

    “Richard, no!” His mother screams.

    There was a bang on the door and Caleb scrambles backwards hiding next to his bed.

    “Open this damn door right now!” Another bang, Caleb hides his face into his blanket.

    The hinges on the door begin to shake and Richard’s strong hand bursts through the thin wooden door, unlocking it from the inside. Caleb lets out a terrified scream and Richard’s figure looms through the doorway. The small six year old covers his face as he hears the door slam, his mother banging on the other side trying to get in. As Richard moved closer, a bright white light shines in front of Caleb, and Richard’s scream was almost sucked in, the sound echoing through the house, fading out slowly.

    The white light fades and the young six year old shakes, awaiting a hit, his hands uncover his eyes slowly and the sparkling white lights began to disperse around his room, lighting it up like sparklers, and Richard was nowhere to be found.
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    Guest
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    Re: New story I'm writing

    Post by Guest on Tue Sep 25, 2012 1:40 pm

    I like it, but, well this is just me, and I am old fashioned and boring, but I have been published a couple of times in minor magazines in this country soooo the one bit of criticism I would put forward is the announcement of when your changing characters. Its rather unnecessary, if you have to announce that you have changed (at least in my eyes) your characters aren't strong enough in your own head that and, I have no idea what any of your characters look like. I like your use of the third person, but you need to bulk out your characters and your speech, use some more adjectives and adverbs to add some more movement and life into your characters and settings. Be more descriptive, going over the top on your descriptions is nothing bad, it gives the reader a much much better sense of what 'your' world is like
    avatar
    Mercy
    The Master of Horror
    The Master of Horror

    Posts : 1410
    Join date : 2010-11-21
    Age : 24
    Location : Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

    Re: New story I'm writing

    Post by Mercy on Tue Sep 25, 2012 7:46 pm

    Haha I have been published as well. This isn't full, just a first draft. I am still working in all the subplotting and such. and each character is supposed to be a different chapter.

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    Re: New story I'm writing

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