Captain Space Adventure: Chapter One " I Space Adventure"

GROUP PROJECT TIME!

We will be writing a story. I will write the first little bit, and then the first person to respond will write the next little bit. It will go on like this, and then I will end the chapter. Later I'll make a new post, where we will do the same thing!

IT WILL BE FUN SHUT UP

Here's the first bit!


The neon face of the space clock blinked "4:30", and an irritating beeping noise flooded the room.

Sargeant Doctor Dirk Spanglebanner opened his eyes slowly, and reached his arm across the gap between his space bed and his nightstand, shutting the space clock off.

"I slept in, god damn it" he growled through his startling beard.

Long time.

She kissed me on the couch, in the dark
we were quiet, and me moved independant and together
our bodies new, and still beautiful
I grabbed her hand by the construction puddles
and I held her in close to me
and we knew we'd always be together
I lay in her family's garage
my hand empty this time
my eyes full, I saw colour now
Took her back, in weakness
I never stopped loving her, even then
Laying now on the floor of a room that used to be an office
I thought about how we lied to each other for so long
and I laughed a little, through the tears
Took control, met a girl, beautiful - though conflicted
faith and truth are easily confused
and what we could see and hear and taste and feel wasn't
written in any books
at least not by any old gods
I knew her, she knew me too
and the good parts kept repeating
we meet in the living room, the office, the stairwell
the couch. We saw each other in the same room I had met her.
We lay in the cold damp room off to the side
and laughter and suspicion greet us that morning
I love her, she loves me, but neither of us are finished
back into the oven I suppose.
She needs more abuse, I need more clairty
and even more abuse.
we aren't complete, never will be
but I'll be damned if we won't try.
Time's never right, not when you love
and it'll never be right as long as you still can
Figure that out-and maybe I'll give up
or maybe I'll fix me.
My heart is too easy to take
and I've let it get away 6 times.
It never comes back in one piece.
Time, blood and control are what shapes my life.
Time gives me my start
Love is an act of blood, and as long as it courses through
me, I'll give into it, and I'll move faster for it, break
more bones and give up more of my body for it, to feed it.
And when it's time to stop, whether time has run out yet or
not, when I've nothing left to give, nothing left to get and
nothing needing, I'll have control. It won't be fate or
providence that pulls the trigger. It will be my trembling
hands, and you can take solace in the knowing that I'll have
a smile on my tired old face. A real smile. I'll be saving
one for whenever that is.

Artist

My mouth wide open, I taste steel and heat. Tears stream down my face and I remember what it used to be like, before I learned it could get better. Content to live in mediocrity and without a purpose, always striving just to be happy, always happy. Now I've lost it, she tells me I'm too optimistic, I see too much beauty in the bleak. Soon I'll see nothing, and I'll have done it just to prove myself right, to who? I don't know. My old self, I guess.

No note, not for this. This is no noble act, there is no greater good or acheivement here, the passion in this act has long since been forgotten, this would be an act of convenience. An act of rage, an act of rest.

Fingers slip clumbsily off the trigger and my body begs me not to send it away. But I've no use for it anymore, no use for flesh and warm sacks of pulsing organs, I'm tired, and their noise is keeping me awake.

I force my hands around the machine, fill my eyes up with the last tears I'll ever need, and I pull.

My art here is done. I leave behind one last brushstroke, no more important than the rest,I spatter colour against the wall.

Tell Me a Story

I want to tell a story, I want to write something that can make people think, and feel ways that they never have before.

I want a gloomy setting, a bleak and desolate place. The people there would be simultaneously trying to live from day to day without noticing how bad their luck was, and desperately trying to escape in whatever way they could. There would be a drought, a flood, a storm, a fire, something that wiped away whatever beauty this place had before and left it still and lifeless - a facade of a vibrant and happy little town. The paint would fall off of the welcome sign in clusters.

I want conflict, somebody using this place's desperation to their advantage, somebody who can distill oil from the tears of this town's inhabitants. The people of the town would know what he was doing, they would be aware - but still they would follow his lead, their pessimism and self loathing would keep them from any other course of action.

I want a hero, somebody who can look at the person taking advantage of the people, and do something about it. Someone who's not yet been crushed by the world he lives in, and whose silly heart makes him want to fix it for the rest of them. I want a naive hero, a stupid hero.

I want a complex series of relationships, of love and hate and trust that is so entangled in these people's lives that they can't crawl from it despite their willingness to accept a broken heart. I want them stuck like flies to the web they themselves have spun, and I want my hero there too.

I want a climax, a violent and satisfying clash between the purest good that this broken setting can know, and it's purest evil. I want a contextually black and white separation, and I want everyone to know who they are rooting for, who they want to win this fight, and what they want out of it, I want the hope in their eyes to shine like fire, I want their bodies to move in unison and to be willing to break if it means getting what they think they deserve. I want a sea of angry fists and barking mouths waiting to tear apart whoever it is that falls.

I just don't know who I want to win, yet.

Loudness Forever

Connor sat in the corner of the room, his chair faced the wall and his eyes faced the floor. His lungs were full to bursting but he kept inhaling. One, Two, Three - he counted the steps as it crept across the room and closer to him. His eyes opened wide, and he smiled painfully.

It wrapped it arms around his neck, and leaned into him, seeing what he felt and stealing it away - it laughed with him, and cried with him, knew everything he wouldn't tell anyone, and would keep it all a secret. It spun around Connor's chair, and held up his head, looking into him it pulled the colours from his eyes and set them on the floor where they rolled away like marbles.

The colours stayed in Connor's head with the images they are attached to - they swam through a sea of hate, of betrayal of pain and of love, all wrapped into one and set in a spiral around his head. The colours jumped from image to image, from one still of his memory to another as he recalled them. Pictures and sound, the vibration of objects around him formed the audio track, and light bouncing chaotically off of those same objects formed the visual, a cacophony of shit that was all his own, his memories, his images and words and nobody could take those away, at the very least. As he thought, tears streamed down his face, and it drank them feverishly.

Feeling his pain, it stretched it's arm across the floor and grabbed up the colours. It offered them back to him, but he laughed. Angry, it forced them into his heart through his chest, and became entwined in his spine. Connor's memories began to run together, and light burst from his mouth, the room vibrated and the portraits on the wall fell, crashed, re-assembled and turned to steam. The window grew bigger, like an ulcer, and his stomach inflated. Connor's eyes turned into strings and they vibrated back and forth, faster and faster, while colours poured from them in a stream like water. The floorboards were pulled towards the ceilings and stuck like magnets.

It took to the dark, back to shadows, and ran back to it's origin-terrified.

The room pulsed, collapsed, expanded, and was blinked from the world.

Connor smiled, and his eyes settled at rest, caesura, and then loudness forever.