Posts Tagged With: desperation

Random Snippets

Sacrifice and self-discipline were uncomfortably aligned in her mind, and she wanted nothing to do with either. She wanted to eat a goddamn brownie and stretch out on her bed, in her comfy pants, and watch an entire television series in one sitting. The thought that this was an accomplishment in and of itself made her laugh out loud.

She reached for a book, instead, to read a few chapters of imaginary transportation to a town called Desperation, founding father Stephen King. A strange book, for him. Gore and guts and old gods, sure, run of the mill crazy stuff. But also the Christian God, with a capital G-O-D, a straight out of the bible run of the mill cruel and loving god taking center stage as well. Worth the re-read, especially for this line: ‘That sound is about the lure of emptiness and the pleasures of zero.’

Now that line, that line stuck in her brain and resonated in there, creating its own echo that defined the sound King was trying to invoke.

Chapters done, she opted for a movie instead of a television show. Flicking through the new releases on Amazon, it seemed that a lightening humor would be a counter-weight to the overthinking the book had brought on. The World’s End, the nonsense about aliens and some sort of English pub crawl, perfect. Lo and behold- the comedic geniuses behind Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz managed to sneak a surprisingly grown up story into the background. Part touching, part heartbreaking, and all bitter honesty, it was still funny enough to make her laugh out loud over and over again. The soundtrack was fantastic, blasting her right back to her freshman year in high school, and the camera work and editing were so spot on that she rewound a few scenes just to re-watch their perfection. Also, Argus Filch redeemed the Red Wedding as the town crackpot, Basil.

Late night, movie done, satisfied but somewhat at a loss with her guy working the night shift and her boy child occupied with friends on X-box, she twiddled around on tumblr for a little bit, considered the night well spent and nodded off.

Categories: Non-Fiction Nonsense | Tags: , , | 7 Comments

The Marauders

A Master Class tale….

Dunkirk had been overrun in the night.  The Marauders wore masks; some said it was to hide their lack of humanity, but he figured it was because the stench they left in their wake was so foul that even they at their animal best could not stand to marinate in it.

Jensen didn’t wear a mask.  The others, huddled in the corner and scrunched into tiny balls of quivering skin and watering eyes, had wrapped whatever they could find around their noses, their mouths.  He breathed in the death, the burning flesh and singed hair, opened his ears wide to the screams and the pleas, the grating laughter and raucous cat calls that erupted in the night around them.

You cannot overcome an enemy that you will not face.  You cannot triumph over an evil that you refuse to comprehend.

He sighed, and locked away the corner of himself that wanted to weep for the rest of his days, the weak willed human side that wanted to quiver to jelly with the rest of them.  He wasn’t even sure how he had ended up with this gaggle of geese traipsing after him; he certainly hadn’t intended to gather a flock as he had sped, hunched over and silent as a hunting cat, behind the Marauder’s line of fire and into the basement of a gutted house on the outskirts of town.

Yet here they were. Four men and three women, one holding an infant the size of a loaf of bread against her chest, muffling its whimpers as she soothed and murmured into its ear.  He shrugged his broad shoulders, rolled them forward and back, trying to loosen the weight of them that dragged like a yoke around his neck.  There was nothing for it.  Desperation had given him authority.

He crouched down to eye level with the rest of them and pitched his voice so low they had to guess at some of the words.

“They’ve already been here, this is where they started.  Chances are they’ll do another sweep through before they leave, but it’ll be cursory at best.  They wanna get back home, start their feast.”  The woman with the baby shuddered so violently that the child let out a wail, quickly stifled under Jensen’s calloused palm.  He swore, quiet but vicious, and stared the woman in her fear-stupid eyes.

“Yeah, I get it.  Their feast is our flesh.  Maybe someone you love was taken, right in front of you.  Maybe you lost one, but you saved another.  Now you keep yourself still and you keep that baby quiet, or I will throw you both out that front door without a second thought.  If you understand what I’m saying, shut the fuck up.”

She froze, all but the hand stroking the baby’s back.  The kid’s solemn brown eyes studied Jensen’s pale green ones as he took his hand away from the red rosebud of a mouth.  Please, peanut, Jensen silently prayed, just shut up shut up shut up…

There was a sound of breaking glass from the floor above them, muffled footsteps.  A thin scream escaped the woman with the broken mind.  Sensing its mothers distress, the infant’s lips quivered, its brow puckered.  Before it could draw breath to squall, ever again, Jensen shut off his humanity for good and stretched his hand out towards that tiny face once again.  Only desperation could bestow this kind of authority.

******

For this week’s Master Class, I disturbed myself…

Prof SAM (http://frommywriteside.wordpress.com)  jumped back in the saddle and had last class’s star pupil Renee (http://elsetimeandotherwhen.blogspot.com) turn to page 152 of her chosen book and use the 2nd line of the last paragraph for our story prompt.  She chose T.H.White’s The Once and Future King:  Desperation had given him authority.

Storch-Badge-Master

Categories: Fiction | Tags: , , , | 8 Comments

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