Saturday, December 21, 2013

Our Empty Streets (pt. 3)

Yes, yes, we're all excited. Part 3 is here. This might be longer than I thought. You can find Part 2 here, and Part 1 from there.

           Erin and Marilyn were the first to show up, only about 90 minutes later. Of course, I was already there waiting for them, and they worriedly checked the time for fear they were much later than they thought. After the initial confusion, we introduced ourselves. We all shook hands. Erin removed hers from the hoodie’s sleeves long enough to limply grab my fingers and twitch her wrist, while Marilyn’s eyes never left mine and she gave a firm shake.
            “Paul Danny,” I said, well aware that I have two first names. I thought about changing my name to something cooler- more end-of-the-worldsy- after everyone I knew died, but you know how time gets away from you.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Our Empty Streets (pt. 2)

Here's the second part of what I started a couple days ago. I'm posting slowly 'cause I'm trying to stay ahead. Part One can be found here.

            One morning, I eyed the Navy Pier’s Ferris Wheel, and wondered if I could turn in on but still get into a cab before it rotated too far. I never rode the damn thing before: it always seemed like a tourist trap to me. I was an immigrant to the Chicago area fresh out of college, and the last thing I wanted to do was look like I didn’t belong. My Southern accent gave me away often enough, when there was still anyone around to hear it.
            A control panel was in front of me. Where I hoped would be two buttons, one green and one red, was a myriad of levers, lights, and knobs. I poked and prodded at the panel, moved a lever back and forth, but nothing happened. I looked around sheepishly, like an employee was going to come chastise me at any time, but of course that employee was long gone. I slid my pack off of my back, and dug out my water bottle. July in Chicago was hot and humid, even on the pier. I sat and tipped the bottle to my mouth, almost laying down in order to catch the top of the wheel in my sight. Birds alighted upon it, probably building nests on the now dormant structure. I sighed and rethought my plan, not wanting to disturb their hard work. After all, it was more their world than mine now.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Our Empty Streets (pt. 1)

Here's a story that might not end up so short, and it might not end because I'm bad at these things. Whatever, you're reading this for free.

            The apocalypse happened. Then, just as suddenly, it was over. We had been reading tales of the dead taking over the Earth for years, and in fact it had been quite the trend in my younger days. It was all in good fun. The only people you could unrepentantly shoot in video games were Nazis and zombies, so that’s who they cast. But let me tell you this: When it’s your girlfriend clawing at the bathroom door with the trademark black irises, you’re not thinking about power-ups and high scores.
            No one knows why it started. Airborne virus, parasite, evil demonic possessions, whatever. Everyone who was in charge of telling us this type of thing stopped checking in. One day in early May, something like 98% of Americans and 80% of others around the globe suddenly woke up wanting to partake all the normal zombie stuff. Of the 2% that didn’t wake up infected/a host/ possessed, 1.5% woke up next to another person who did. Luckily I always woke up before my girlfriend did, and was in the shower for her… episode.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

The Asexual Leather Anniversary

            This blog has been around for three years. That blows my mind. Complied correctly, like how Tupac should have made “All Eyez On Me” the best single album in hip-hop history (hip-hopstery), the blog would be around 2 years, but I’m not one to judge. I have to recuse myself from this imaginary trial. I’M PLAYING BY THE RULES, OKAY?

            Anyhoo, thank you for occasionally checking out this blog whenever I write something. I know I don’t do it very often, but there’s times when I get an idea in my head and if I didn’t have some place to shove it into people’s faces, I’d go crazy. Like the piece about WWI being a high school drama? I had that in my head for weeks before I made ya’ll read it. Without this blog, it would either be in a journal to be read by even LESS people, or blasted into the side of a mountain. Come to think of it, I’m diggin’ this “Giant Excavation” method of explaining crude analogies…

            You guys might have to bear with me for awhile, I’m not sure how much I’ll be producing. I’ve been kicking around short story ideas in my head but here’s a fun fact about writing: It’s terrible and I hate it. Have you ever sat down to write something creative and thought “Weeee! This is fun!” No. It’s all “UGH WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF” as you open another word document. Whiny train aside, I might be running some length-unknown short story bits on here in the future as a method of motivation for me to actually finish stories for once. If it wasn’t 95 pages and over 500,000 words, I’d post the novel-ish thing I’ve been “working on” (read: talking about) for the past 2 ½ years, even if they did make a movie that steals its basic plot. Update on that whole thing, by the way: turns out it was more about nuclear war than Fascism, so I think I’m safe.

            I know I’ve been talking like I have some sort of cult following or invested fan base, but really, the fact that sometimes people read my stupid stuff is enough for me, so thanks to the both of you that do.

            As always, here’s my favorite GIF. It's Ghostface Killah eating an apple in the music video for "Gravel Pit" while wearing a fur coat and matching fur hat. It's basically my child.