Story Game

Creative Forums Creative Writing
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[i]The poem game gave me the idea of doing some kind of story, where everyone writes a paragraph, or two, or however much they want to contribute, and then passes the torch on to the next person to carry out the next section.

I guess I will start.
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The bullet flew. A single shot fired, the sound echoing, overwhelming all other senses. The sound, dreadfully tranquil, pierced through the intensity of silence and suddenly it was apparent that the seemingly make-believe scenario was now transitioning into a reality. All he could think about was, ‘How could I have got myself into this situation. What have I done?’ Although the bullet moved too fast to be seen by the naked eye, its trail of destruction was revealed as it tore through his chest, throwing his shoulder back as if he had been hit, full force, with a crowbar. His body twisted and contorted in the air as he was drawn almost magnetically to the ground. Without a single note from his mouth, he lay there, desperately kicking his feet and awkwardly squirming around, trying to find a hold or a comfort, anything that could remove him from this seemingly unreal situation.

‘It wasn’t really happening,’ he thought, ‘I can’t die here. What about my life! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, I’m not ready! Wait, I just need a little more time.’ He watched as his body was now violently convulsing, craving for air, but only finding blood. His heart had burst, filling his lungs. Face pressed against the cold concrete of the station, his body was now numb and disassociated from his weakening consciousness, he desperately began to scream, although no sound came from his breathless mouth, ‘I’m not ready. . . what about my life. . . It’s not real, it just can’t be real! What about. . .’

His thoughts abruptly ended as he faded into darkness.

Suddenly, the light flooded Trent’s eyes as he awoke, but he could not move. As he struggled to keep himself conscious, he noticed his surroundings were that of a hospital room. Trent thought to himself, ‘I must have somehow survived, but how?’ . . . but the light soon faded back to darkness as his body accepted a comatose state, yet his consciousness entered into something new. It seemed to Trent that he had crossed a threshold into some likeness of a lucid dream state. He was in full control of his body and actions, but his surroundings were not reality. This new setting could be described as . . .

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… as nothing ever conceived by man.
Within the dark hallways of the human mind are endless avenues of existence. While all can interact, every human in essence is living through different realities, but language binds them into not noticing the inherent differences within all.
Trent existed now within two nano seconds of human time. His life, now forever changed from the trauma of being shot by his own father, was to experience a lifetime within two nanoseconds.
All around him he saw stationary figures. A clock that used to tick now dead still. Out the hospital window leaves stood motionless in mid air. Everything frozen in time. Ever so often light will whiz pass in the distance. He knew he was in for a trip.

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Trent had just received a pain killer from the nurse. Everything seemed lighter now. He vaguely recollected the last words of his Father.

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… while he woke up the Disaster, he called life.
On his cloud, Trent welcomed the unsurpassed man he called his Father into his memorys. A scream unheard of, a laughable confusion spread…

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I looked at my clock and saw that it was near eleven pm. I clicked the power button of my remote which shutoff the episode of E.R that I was watching. I promptly stood up, walked upstairs and went to bed.

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The last thing I remembered was lying in my bed, staring at a ceiling I couldn’t see due to the darkness of my room. Then quite suddenly I found myself in a dream, although I believed it real at first. Looking around, I saw that I was on a lush grassy plain surrounded by strangers that I did not know. A second glance showed me that these were my childhood friends, yet they appeared as how I imagined them as adults. A few of the women there were gorgeous and I saw that they were stealing quick smiles at me through the corner of my eye. The men were visibly strong and powerful, making me glad that I wasn’t enemies with any of them.
A hand lightly touched my shoulder, causing me to jump and whirl around. The dreamlike state forced my movements to be lightning-quick and in an instant I found myself staring directly into the face of my oldest friend, Frederick. He gave me a pleasant little half-smile and softly said, “We must begin our journey.” It was at that point that I realized that the scenery behind him was different than the massive meadow we were all dwelling in. Rising above Frederick’s head emerged before my eyes the luminous shape of . . .

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…the luminous shape of the planet Earth and the moon revolving around it.

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I realised at that point that there was no other purpose for me, no other inspiration, no greater love than to help planet Earth thrive. Not only it’s species but the cohabitation of nature with man. I also realized the many different facets of my dream. Its main twofold purports following parallel, one, that I was passing by friends and women I had known through life - similarily as people go through their whole lives doing nothing but trying to fit in and impress others while being left with nothing else but the most memorable of success’, if one can call them that, the stealing smiles and glances from admiring women. The second meaning of the dream was that I would need the help from others, especially from friends who would help me if I falter. Few of us have, as great an aspiration as to help the entire earth and all the people on it, I knew as well as Frederick that our journey must begin. But how does one begin by helping an entire species, or better yet, how does one begin to help a planet, all of a sudden the background behind Frederick began to get blury…

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This blurring made me extremely uncomfortable. Slowly, the feeling from my hands and feet drifted away like a dream. Although I can move my fingers and curl my tows, they somehow do not feel like a part of my body. My heart started to beat faster and I started to breathe harder. I wanted to scream, “take me to the hospital ” but instead, I fell to my knees and placed my hands on the ground. Through my fingertips, the earth screamed “Help.” Started, I looked up Frederick for help; however, he walked away from me. I wanted to share this experience with him so that he would not think that I was crazy, but atlas, this was not meant to be….

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There was a moment of utter peacefulness, as everything around me faded to black. No: it did not fade; it ceased to be. I knew everything, and simultaneously nothing. I should have found this hateful. Nothing to push against, no problems to solve, no family to support, no pressure, no tension, no pain: antithesis to my life as it had been.

For now I began to remember, to catch snatches of what had been from the turmoil of my conscious memory, tiny handfuls of mercuric slime. She is standing in front of me, smiling, and now collapsed, incandescent with rage and sorrow. I feel - or rather, felt - pity and anger. It seems a strange state of affairs, and I am beginning to contemplate its meaning when another image invades. A gun is wildly spinning, but is presently encased in a great block of ice. The gun stops, and seems at peace. But there is fire, and it is growing all the time. I hurriedly run to the fire extinguisher on the wall, but it seems to regress and regress and regress. And the faster I run, the faster it retreats; it shies from my hand, though whether from fear or spite I know not. I begin to falter and, understanding my inevitable failure in chasing the solution, turn to observe what is happening to the arcane sculpture I had left behind.

As I do so, I slip, and note as I fall that the ice has melted across the floor. I look up as I fall, and note the gun discharging. There is no more.
*
My new suit and tie fitted perfectly. I had paid a lot of money for them, but it had proven to be a sound investment - my new job paid double what I had been on before.

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my soul was doomed, and so am i, now my spirit is free and my soul is roaming for salvation, all the moments of my life seem to be nothing but a fast vivid dream , crossing me, leaving me with no power for adjustments! my soul was poor , full of goodness and evil, perhaps it was the goodness that ruled it most, i pitty my soul , seeing how i doomed it with who i am! i see everything happening to me when it’s happening but i can do nothing, i sense and feel but there is no way to make a choice already made! now my soul has another journey to pass, to enjoy it’s suffering and it’s pleasure, i will go back and see myself , in my life , my final chance ,as a shapless cloud. that is who i got to be ,now i must go on , i will not interfere nor commuincate! i will see and learn ,fly above myself and all humans ,see thier fights, their love, their pain. i will start again, from this moment i …

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have been given the choice to return to this Earth and seek vengeance or make peace. Fortunately, the choice for Trent will not have to be made now.

FLASH

Trent’s earthly story now resumes, as he re-enters the chain of events of life as a new being. . .

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Trapped; I look up, down, left, right; no light no wind… There are many like me… We are all moving in one direction; we are calm but nervous…

The sounds of a hundred armies fills the air while i shutter at the ferocity. Such chaos i have never seen nor could fathom; i am momentary induced with flash backs of war, though they pale in comparison.

We are closer now, ever hastening; more and more frantic… Some flee though they do not get far; others become grim. Any moment now… there goes Jim…

I’m still here but i know it’s not for long. In my last waking moment i look up as a hand grabs me; it is cold, but to my relief i am now blind…

promptly my wings are clipped and i am thrown down a dark chute with my comrades; it is very dark.

When I…