We finally found each other in a small cafe in a dead part of town. It wasn't one of those places you see in the movies with the big windows and flashly lights and waitresses in perfect white uniform. No, it was cramped, smokey and cluttered. What there were of windows were covered in gaudy bits of paper advertising special offers.
I had walked all day, having grown bored of the bleakness of my own four walls. I had stepped out into the warm, damp air, breathing it in like you would breathe the air in a room of fat and sweaty men. That is to say, reluctantly.
I watched the ground for discarded cigarette ends and loose change, both of which would perhaps keep me going until the next time I ventured out. In my pockets I had the door keys of my place (rent unpaid for four months) some copper coins and a lighter.
Isn't it funny that we always have lighters when we have nothing else, but can never find one when we need one?
Anyway, I wasn't going anywhere in particular. Exploring, maybe, the streets I had walked a hundred times, but never really noticed. There were few people, and those that were out and about, I avoided. In those days, I could barely hold a conversation with myself let alone eye contact with a total stranger. That's some fucked up shit huh?
Down from the gas station I found an almost full cigarette. Someone had obviously stubbed it before venturing onto the forecourt. They were saved from roasting themselves, and I got a smoke.
I ran through song lyrics in my head as I walked. I counted steps. This was beginning to become a chore. Not only that, but I could see that it was begining to cloud over. It looked like rain.
About five minutes later, the ground I was watching closely started to glisten with rain drops. I decided to find somewhere to ride it out before I headed back home. And that, of course, is when I found the cafe.
As I stepped in, I was immediately struck by the sense that this place was different. Not different in any conventional sense, not something you could exactly pin down. The tables seemed slightly disproportionate, the counter top seemed almost irreverant in its scale and placing. Like I said though, difficult to actually quantify.
The waitress stood behind that counter looked at me as I stepped up. Not glowering or smiling or any other thing. Just looking.
I cleared my throat and asked for a glass of water, jingling my keys and coppers in my pocket to indicate that I might actually buy something afterward. She poured it in a short, wide glass and passed it over without comment. I glanced at her eyes and the hair on my arms seemed to clench. Weird, there was no way to actually define her age or, really, anything else from that gaze.
Grunting something that could have been thanks, I turned from the counter, intending to sit a table. I bumped into a stool that seemed carelessly placed and made my way into the gloomy corner at the back. I leaned back in the cheap but solid looking chair and sipped, very slowly, at my water.
That's when it happened.
A girl appeared in my peripheral vision, and before I had a chance to turn my head, she had grabbed one of the seats opposite, swiveled it round and straddled it. Placing her arms on the top of the chair back, she rested her chin on her wrists and looked up at me through her eyelashes.
I hadn't seen her as I came in, nor heard any door open or close. How could she be sitting here? I was about to say something, but she got there first. Sometimes, even now, I wish I had had the chance to put my foot in it, to unhear what she was about to say.
"Hello. My name is Mandy, and I have a job for you..."
No one interested? Or is this just a pile of shit?
I try to refrain from posting commentary in threads like this, because eventually when you post more chapters, I will want to read them all in rapid succession, and the chatter kills the flow.
And never ask me to critique writing, 'cause I don't know what I'm doing either.
Cool, I was just worried that the overly emo start was turning people off..
My critique skillz suck serious ass. Most you'll ever get from me is "I like it" or "I don't like it"
This one has me wanting to know what happens next - that's a thumbs up right there.
PS - If I don't find out soon I'll hate you very deeply and from the heart. And I may just take china back (not decided yet)
Phase two is currently scheduled for tonight.
I hate writing stuff when I have people walking around behind me, and I have to write a letter of complaint for my old dear this afternoon anyway.
On the note of the letter of complaint, I may post it here for any additional O:MF I can add in to it.
Or at least a suitable meme bomb or two.
Remember the letter must begin "Darling fascist bully boy"
"Give me some loot, you bastard."
:lulz:
"May the seed of your loin be fruitful in the belly of your woman,"
EDIT:: PS- I really like it, add more.
"Hello. My name is Mandy, and I have a job for you..."
I put my glass down on the table. I had to force myself to look into her eyes, but I managed it.
"Uh... What do you mean?" I glanced around the cafe, it was exactly as before.
She raised her head a little, I could see her eyes clearly now, they were a deep aqua colour, and seemed much deeper than any young womans eyes had a right to be. I found I couldn't look away, and suddenly felt like an insect specimen, pinned down in a display case.
"I mean, I have something for you to do. When you do it, you will be paid. You know, work? A job?" She said.
"Maybe, you have the wrong person. I'm just here for a drink of water," I said, tilting my glass hopefully, wishing she would leave me alone. I was begining to panic.
"Look, I know what I'm doing. I have been waiting here for you." I was about to reply, to say that I hadn't even planned on coming here, but she held up a finger to her lips. I could almost hear her say 'Shut the fuck up!' with that single action. "I have been waiting here for you, and you will listen. I have a problem, I need someone to sort it out for me, and I want you to do it."
She straightened, reached into her hip pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, a dog eared pack of cigarettes and what seemed like a necklace. Placing them on the table, she indicated my glass with a nod. "Finish up quickly, you will not be staying for long."
I couldn't help but do as she asked. Things were moving very fast, and I seemed to have no control over what was happening. When I lowered the empty glass, she was gone. I glanced around. Again, nothing out of the ordinary, except... Even the waitress was gone. I picked up the paper, cigarettes and necklace and stood up. I had to get out of here. Now.
I got outside, and the light made me momentarily dizzy. When my sight cleared, I realised my head had too. Stuffing everything into my pocket, except the smokes, I started a loping walk down the street. Not quite running, but nonchalantley fleeing. I looked at the pack of smokes, they too were oddly proportioned, and only had a symbol on them, shaped like a snake with a sphere of some kind in it's mouth. I pulled one out and lit it, and put the pack in my free pocket.
It was still raining, but that didn't matter. I thought back on the strange encounter, and a strange emotion welled up in me. A mix of fear and shame. I felt an unaccountable tug towards something unknown, but ignored it, kept on walking.
Being so engrossed in my thoughts, I didn't notice the man following me for quite sometime. I only saw him because I had that guilty look-round I always do when I throw a spent cigarette on the ground. He was about 50 feet behind me, dressed in grey, with a hat that covered his face in shadow. When I was looking at him, I felt a chill run up my spine, felt my hands go clammy.
He rasied his hand to his hat when I looked a moment longer than would be necessary, almost like he was about to lift it, but I turned quickly and continued walking, only a little faster. I put my hands in my pocket and bowed my head. I could almost feel his gaze on my back.
As I stepped around the corner by the gas station, I stopped short. The man with the hat was right in front of me, leaning against the wall. He turned his head towards me, and I was still rooted to the spot, frozen with shock and creeping dread.
"I can't believe she did that, son. It takes a lot of balls to play the game that way." I couldn't understand what he meant, but there was a definate, hard edge to his voice. He spoke with a British accent, but I couldn't place it.
"I normally wouldn't do it this way, believe me, but she sets the rules." A sharp blow to the back of my head brought me down. He lifted himself away from the wall and walked over to me, I could feel him going through my pockets, taking everything. Trying to resist, I realised I couldn't move. I could see his feet turn around and walk away. A sudden spasm running through me started to take conciousness to the abyss, and just before I passed out, I realised I still hadn't seen his face. Then blackness.
I woke up with a strange face hovering over me. I couldn't quite focus on it, so the features seemed to shift and blur into one another.
"Can you stand?"
I nodded weakly, and did so, swaying like a drunk on a three day bender.
"Follow me, I have a place to go. And whatever you're thinking of saying? Don't." He placed a hand on my shoulder, and guided me, stumbling, down the street.
Like a mantra running through my head, I thought over and over: 'What the fuck?'
I was going to wait until tomorrow, to make certain I got it reading right, but fuck it, I'll post pt.3 now
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was being led down the street by a man I didn't know. My mind still fogged by whatever it was that had knocked me out.
It was starting to turn to twilight, casting the buildings in an ethereal light. They seemed to rear back over me, and the doorways were deepening shadows.
Not feeling particularly threatened, though I suppose I should have done, I was about to turn my head to my guide, walking a half-step behind me. His hand tightening on my shoulder convinced me otherwise. Maybe I should wait until we got where we were going, or until it was necessary..
I didn't know this part of town well. I may have been here back when I had been content, when I still went to parties and stuff, but I certainly hadn't been here recently. It seemed like a ghost town, there weren't even any cars parked here.
We took some strange turns. Right, Left, Right. Always going in roughly the same direction, and always going slightly uphill, I noticed. We walked for about 30 minutes until we reached three cul-de-sacs, one ahead and one each left and right. Fuzzily, I pictured it as a cross.
The man turned me around, his hand having been on my shoulder the whole time. He was taller than me, with wide shoulders, he had Presence, with a capital P. His face seemed to be somewhat stern, but not serious. I was relieved that I could see his face properly now, given what had happened so far today, I wouldn't have been surprised if his face really was as fluid as my first glimpse of it had been.
"O.K. Listen carefully. We will be going inside in a moment, and until I say, I don't want you to say a word. Nod if you understand." I did so.
"The people in here don't want to hear what happened to you, they know already. We will need to leave you alone in a room for a while, so we can discuss what we do next, but you will be given anything you want after. I recomend you sleep, though, you fuckin' need it." I nodded again, and he grunted his approval. He pointed to the door way opposite, and indicated with his finger that I should go that way.
We climbed the dingy stairs to the top, and the man opened the door there. I expected it to follow form and be somehow strangely proportioned, but it was a perfectly ordinary, black door door. The plaque on it read 'No. 14a' and had a couple small lines of writing I didn't have time to read before I was led through the doorway.
I was led down a hallway with bookcases on either side to a half-opened door at the far end. Light and voices came from the room behind, and I stopped dead in my tracks. One of those voices were Mandy's.
The man glanced at me, an unsaid warning to keep my mouth shut, and pushed the door open.
There were about eight people in the room, sitting on chairs, sofas or the floor. Some were reading, some were talking. Other than the number of people there, it seemed a perfectly ordinary room. Mandy was sitting cross legged on the floor, at the feet of an older man. She was holding an ashtray for him. When I walked in, she handed it to him, and come over to me.
Looking me in the eyes, she placed a hand on my cheek. She seemed apologeticm but didn't speak. Neither did I. She turned me towards another door off to the side and led me to it. When she opened it, I walked through. The door closed behind me, and I found myself in a small room with a bed and nothing else. I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to hear anything of what was being said in the next room. Silence. So I lay down and watched the ceiling until I fell asleep.
When I awoke, I had a strong sense of deja vu. It was the same face that greeted me, but this time, perfectly solid. He was even smiling.
"Mandy has told us a lot about you. We've decided to help you." He stuck his hand out, and I raised myself to half-sitting to accept the hand shake. "The name is James, but call me Jim." I half smiled back at him, still nervous.
"Steve, Jim, thank you for helping me." He pulled me up and handed me a mug with what appeared to be coffee. I was still going to question everything until I figured out what was going on.
As if he had read my mind, Jim nodded at the mug, "It is coffee, but keep on questioning. You're going to have to for what we want from you." With that he jerked his head towards the door. I followed the direction, and stepped back into the outer room.
The furniture had been cleared and a large table placed in the middle of the room, ten chairs were placed around it, all occupied bar two. I took one, and Jim took the other. Everyone had a mug in front of them, and a large pile of carelessly open books and odds and ends of papers had been pushed into the middle. To my right sat Mandy, to her right was the man she had been sitting with earlier. She handed me another pack of smokes, one of which I lit, noting it was the same brand as she had given me earlier.
Jim, to my left, cleared his throat and slid an ashtray over to me. " You know Mandy already. To her right is Roger. Introductions for everyone else can come later."
I nodded, not sure if I should speak or not yet. Jim looked at me with a raptor gaze, judging my silence.
"You are here to do something important, but we can't tell you what it is. We will help you where we can, but you have to be allowed to do what you want."
Mandy put her hand on mine, to get my attention. "I'm sorry I had to do it this way Steve, but we hope it will turn out for the best."
I finally found the courage to break my silence. "Let me get this straight, you want me, a complete stranger, to do something important, but I have to figure out what that is. I hope to Christ, it's not something fucked up like killing someone, 'cause if it is, count me out." A few quick glances passed between those sitting at the table.
"We know who you are. Mandy has watched you for a couple years now, watched as your 'life' has crumbled around you." The voice was gruff, deep, iron. It was Roger. "And don't be hoping to Christ, boy. That's not how we do things 'round here..."
:mittens:!
Cheers Cyb. Might take a couple days before the next part. I know where I'm taking it for the end, but I want to add moar tentacles!
As you might have noticed, a couple of the characters so far vaguely resemble posters in this forum, even if only in physical description compared to avatars. I read some old post's earlier that I want to incorporate into the story line.
Not only that, but I rushed the last two parts, and I feel they suffered a little for it.
Just to update, it might take longer to get the next part, I'm having a little trouble fitting the story arc in. Thats what I get for starting off by making it up as I go along, then making a "plan". Sorry if anyone is following this, but that's the way it goes eh?
Don't worry about it. I've been writing "LMNO-PI" for at least two years.
Rogers face pulled back behind Mandy, I shifted my eyes back to her. She'd been watching me? For a couple of years? I started to feel uneasy again.
"Don't worry Steve, nothing really sinister about it. I just kept track of you. Whenever you were really in trouble, I would help you out. Like that cigarette outside the gas station earlier." She tried a smile of reassurance, but it failed.
I felt a hand on my left shoulder, Jims. "She likes the burned out emo-type man. Don't try to understand it just now, just listen to this." He indicated across the table to the man sitting directly opposite me. Our eyes locked for an instant, but the contact was broken when he reached out for a bit of paper in the middle of the table. He was pretty non-descript, but he had such an air of assured confidence that I decided never to tangle with him if I could possibly avoid it. Pulling the paper towards him, he flipped it over quickly, a brief glance at the back, then back over.
"This is a copy of the paper Mandy gave you earlier. It has some things on it you should find useful, but I really do recomend you don't lose this one." He snatched a pen that was half hidden in the detritus before him and drew a design on it in quick, fluid strokes. "This is the design of the pendant that was on the necklace. As they already have both the paper and the pendant, it doesn't really matter much at this stage that you have both in one handy little package." He folded the paper, almost carelessly, but with precise folds. He leaned over and extended it to me. I reached for it. "Do not open this until you are outside." I nodded numbly, took the paper and held it in both hands.
I could see that some murmered conversation was taking place at the end of the table, then the talkers stood up and walked out. A woman stood up and removed a cell phone from a hip pocket. "Here. Don't use this unless you really have to. Theres only one number stored on it. When you call, you will get no answer, but we will help if we can." I caught the phone as it was tossed over to me, then she, too, walked out the door.
I lit another of Mandy's cigarettes. Drawing deep, trying to calm myself. Whatever was going on, it was clear I was not in control, and these guys moved fast.
"O.K. you have the material you need," said Jim "We can't really do much just now other than tell you that what was taken from you is important. You need to find the necklace, and the people who stole it, and you need to do that quickly."
I had not considered it before now, having been dazed after the attack, and with the speed everything had been going since then. There had to have been at least two people involved. One was obviously the shadowed man, but who had hit me from behind? Had it really been two men in grey with shaded faces? No, I was fairly certain that the man I had seen was the same both behind and ahead of me. This would have to wait though. First I had to get out of here and figure out what the fuck was going on.
Jim stood up and went to a closet, which he opened and took out a plain jacket. He extended it to me. It was obviously time to get out of here. Mandy and, particularly, Roger watched me carefully the whole time. I retrieved the jacket and threw it over my shoulders. Suddenly I was desperate to be going, I walked to the door without comment or gesture.
As I reached the door to the hallway, Mandy ran up to me. She handed me the pack of smokes, and put her hand on my face again, as she had when I had entered. I pulled away after a moment and left.
Five minutes of solid walking back down the street, and I stopped under a street light. I took out the paper I had been given. It seemed to be covered in cramped writing, which I would read later. Other than the writing there was the symbol that had been drawn while I watched, which seemed to be a confused squiggly line, looping over itself, with the numbers 853 written within the swirls. On the paper were a couple other symbols, a circle with little pictures around the edge, and what seemed to be a graph of some kind. None of it meant anything to me.
I leaned back on the lamp post. This was getting to be really fucking weird. I decided to go home to decide on calling the cops, or calling a psychiatrist.
:D :D You've yet to dissappoint, Payne. One thing I have noticed in most of the 'discordian' fiction posted here is that it's like conspiracy theory fan fiction, if you can catch my drift. There's always something behind the scenes that either the reader or the main character(s) have no idea about. I see it in LMNO-PI, in Idem's Working Title, and so far it's here in yours too. Personally, I think it's wonderful. Conspriacy ideas can provide such a great hook for readers, and you use it quite well.
It was that conspiracy idea that fucked me up for a couple of days. Didn't know what to with it.
I've already commited myself to have some symbols in the story (from the second part, which was pre- "I'd better plan where this is going a bit"), which I have come up with something I hope is interesting and different.
Next part, in hopefully 1-2 days.
Just finished reading.
Really good so far.
Yeah, given the weekend I've had, I'm putting back my timetables a bit.
Sunlight filters in through my front window. It's harsh, kind of like the taste in my mouth. It's obviously time to wake up.
I'm sprawled on the dead sofa in my living room, still wearing the clothes I had on last night. My neck creaks a bit from having slept on the arm of the sofa.
God damn, but I need to wash this taste out of my mouth, what is that? Shuffling through to the kitchen, I light a cigarette and glance at my watch. 14:20. What the fuck? A solid eight hours sleep, but I feel like it's only been two. I swill water through a dirty glass, "cleaning" it before filling it. I briefly run through yesterday in my head. It feels like a second rate movie.
I stumble through the detritus on my floor back to the seat. I glance briefly at the crumpled paper. I decided not to call anyone when I got home. After all, what would I tell them? I still feel a distaste for the paper though. The cigarettes? I can certainly live with that, but I need to do something about food. Hunger is gnawing at my stomach having not had a bite to eat yesterday, so I scramble through the shit on my floor, hoping to find some reserve of money I haven't already raided. Pointless. I've been doing this for a couple months now, I don't have money anywhere.
Fuck it, I'm going to head to the supermarket down the road and do whatever it takes to get a bite to eat. I don't want to break the law, but if it comes to that, I will.
I grab the jacket Jim gave me the night before, not letting the sun fool me into thinking it's warm. If nothing else, I can flog it to someone to get something. I consider leaving the scrap of paper here, but something tells me to take it with me, after all Mandy "watches" me. I pick it up and fold it again, slide it into my inside pocket on the jacket. My backs of my fingers slide against something unexpected. I pull it out.
It's a wad of notes. What a fucking winner! Jim obviously gave me the wrong jacket yesterday. It's not my money, but damn right I'm going to spend it. And I'm going to spend it in the pub, where I've not been for a few weeks.
It's a forty minute walk down to the pub, and for much of it I can avoid running into people. I could take the bus of course, but I far prefer walking. I walk very quickly, thinking nothing much at all, and get to the boozer completely event free.
I push my way through the doors into an almost empty bar area. As you expect for midafternoon on a Thursday. A good friend of mine is standing behind the bar. I smile as I grab a stool. Used to be that I would have my drink waiting for me when I came in, but that was before the days when I was sponging constantly. When I reach into my pocket and pull free a ten pound note, however, he immediately starts mixing one up for me. A regular sized glass with a double shot of the cheapest, nastiest whisky with shit loads of ice and topped with cola.
"Jesus man, I've not seen you for weeks. We thought something happened to you." My friend is a tall guy. We call him Slim, because there are too many of us called Steve in the pub, and I already reserved that name for myself by beating the other Steves in a drinking game.
"Yeah man, you know what it's like though. It's embarrasing sponging so relentlessly, so I like to lay low for a bit before I start again." He nods, having been there himself.
"You could at least let us know. Fancy a pie?" When I aquiesce, he pops into the kitchen and comes back with a fresh one. It looks absolutely disgusting, but who cares? Food is food.
Over my drink, the pie, and another drink, I fill in the last couple of weeks, including last night. He comments little, but does laugh at the idea of Mandy stalking me. The pub is starting to get busier as local businesses close earlier on Fridays, so I move myself to a table in the back, out of the way and let him do his job.
With food in my stomach, and alcohol in my veins, I feel more able to read whats written on the paper. I fold the symbols under as I want this to be private, and they are eye-catching.
Steve,
So glad you finally got round to reading this. We are serious about you doing this for us. Consider the money as
payment in advance. This paper will not have much importance to you until later, but we do recomend you keep
it in mind. The first key has been given to you, though understanding it will take a while. Using it will lead you to
the second. And so forth.
Our messages to you will be brief. Our assistance will often not be noticed until after the fact.
Beware the man wearing a grey coat. The Christian preacher will help you and you will have to be prepared to
listen to him at the most awkward time.
Sorry for the cryptic message, but this is the way it has to be played out this time.
Seriously, take care. We will be watching but we cannot cover for every eventuality.
~Mandy.
Shaking my head, I put the paper back into my hip pocket, nestling beside the wad of cash. Time for a piss, and another drink. I head to the door marked "Gents". On my way out, heading back to the bar for that drink, I see a flash of grey as the man in the hat runs out the door, Jim's jacket in his hands.
Feeling properly pissed off, even though the jacket is not mine, and nothing was in it, I give chase. I chase him for a few blocks, chase him 'round a few corners, always just glimpsing his grey jacket. I'm just about completely winded when I come to an abrupt stop. He's standing in an alley way, the jacket on the ground.
And he looks mad.
Keep it up... :D
I have decided to put this on the back burner for a while, due to plot lines becoming very confused.
I will distill the stuff that is good, and leave you with this "cliffhanger" until i can be arsed to actually write something decent.
HAH!
Heh.
Welcome to the PD.com literary scene.
LMNO
-proud owner of an unfinished manuscript.
I'm gonna start my shit back up again when I get to florida - about 1 1/2 weeks.
Having to study for finals.
Have to memorize the more trivial bits of American History - right now, the curriculum isn't based on the EVENTS of history, but the documents, memos, and papers certifying that something happened during its time. :roll:
Thats crap. Ours was analytical ability mostly, it pwned.
"How did Hitler solidify his power?"
"What is the title of our National Anthem and who wrote it?"
"Define 'draft'"
"The 1st 10 Amendments to the Constitution are called what?"
I hated doing that shit when I did history. I always wanted to get on to the gory bits.
BTW Idem, your avatar was dancing to Soul Kitchen- The Doors in almost perfect time. I was kinda freaked out by it.
Quote from: Idem on May 17, 2007, 07:47:15 PM
"How did Hitler solidify his power?"
"What is the title of our National Anthem and who wrote it?"
"Define 'draft'"
"The 1st 10 Amendments to the Constitution are called what?"
1. Rush Limbaugh
2. "Achey Breaky Heart", Billy Ray Cyrus.
3. Child sacrifice to Mannon
4. "Endangered Species."
Did I get it right?
Quote from: Idem on May 17, 2007, 07:47:15 PM
"How did Hitler solidify his power?"
With panache
Quote"What is the title of our National Anthem and who wrote it?"
"Sexy Back" Justin Timberlake
Quote"Define 'draft'"
BURP!
Quote"The 1st 10 Amendments to the Constitution are called what?"
A nice try.
Threadjacking bastards!!!!!1!11oneonene!!!
:lulz:
You know what, I just realized... no matter what I make on this final, I get a default "B" because of what I made on the GEE.
I would pull that shit off.
If it wasn't on a fucking scantron.