It was raining. Just like it had done in every cheesy movie Jake had ever seen. The ground was wet and splashed all over his fanciest shoes and slacks. He was soaked, from his head, to every element in his tux. He shifted uncomfortably as the limo waited for him to bring him to the reception. Everyone else had left, but he needed to get something off of his chest.
This was the way it always was, right? The son, alone at his father funeral, standing in the rain above his father freshly buried casket. It was a beautiful tombstone for what it was. A large seamless piece of granite big enough to house a family. It was polished to a brilliant shine. Everything about it was like his father had been in life. Large. Majestic. Intimidating. Cold. Dead.
As Jake clenched his fists, he stared at the large slab of stone that had once been his dad. He wanted to tear it down. He wanted to smash it. He wanted to kick it down and grind the pieces into a dust so fine that no one else would ever need to see it. Anger bubbled inside of him until it was too much to hold in. Climbing upon the base, and with a brutal force he kicked the granite tower causing a burst of pain to reverberate through his leg. He clenched his foot in his hands and cursed the tomb before collapsing on the larger than life words that announced his fathers life to the world.
He couldn't win a fight against a tomb. He had never won a fight against his father in his life, and he certainly wouldn't win any in his death. With a quivering sigh, a burst of anger and sadness overcame him and he whispered the last words he would ever say to the man.
“I hate you so much.”
He stood up. Wiped the wet off of his slacks as best as he could, and walked over to the limo. Giving one final look up at the tombstone, he spit on the ground, and vowed never to return.
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Friday, January 13, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Inferno - Part one
Chapter one of Inferno.
One of my resolutions was to try to be more constant and update this with at least two new items every month. Hope you enjoy!
Inferno - Chapter one
He woke up with a start. He had fallen straight through his dream and landed with a start in his body. He'd fallen asleep outside of his dads office again. The clock ticked, echoing loudly through the hallway he occupied. He lifted his body off of the plush, black leather couch that smelled of cigars and ink and tried to shake himself awake. With a yawn, he checked his watch; how long had he been asleep? Pressing one hand against his temple, he tried to fix his hair as he waited for any sign of life from behind the thick wooden doors that blocked his fathers office.
“Jake, what are you doing here?” Naomi asked. Jake looked over to see his old babysitter walking by the door to his fathers office. She wore her dark hair in a bun and walked towards him to give him a hug. Jake begrudgingly stood up and hugged the woman he once called nanny, and let her turn him around to take a look at him. “You've certainly grown.” She said with a laugh. Jake felt his stomach turn slightly. “If you're waiting for you're father...”
“I have to wait, I know.” Jake said with a grunt. He didn't like being treated like a child; much less by someone who had watched him grow up. She looked taken aback for a second, before allowing another sweet smile to settle on her bright red lips.
“Of course.” Was all she said. “I'm sure he'll be by shortly. I have some things I need to do.” She said motioning down to stack of papers in her hand with a nod. “You... well, come by more often. I want to know how everything is going. Do you have a girlfriend yet?”
“Stop.” Jake said as he shrugged out of her reach. “Alright, alright I'll stop.” She said suppressing a slight laugh. “It's good to see you again.” She reached over, despite his silent protestations, and gave him the best hug she could muster with only one arm. “Be good.” She said touching his cheek for a moment before turning back towards the door.
“I'll try.” He said as he sat back in the chair. She smiled at him one final time, sighed, and left the room. Jake readjusted himself on the seat, as if doing so would put him back into whatever mood he was in before this. However, before he could settle the large oak doors opened and two figures walked through the door.
The first was Jezebel, his father's personal assistant. A beautiful, yet somehow dangerous looking woman. Undeniably attractive, she could have easily been a model had she not possessed an intelligence sharp enough to cut a man in half. Her long black hair always hung loose around her face and her make up was always applied in the most seductive way possible. She wore glasses which only seemed to enhance her enchanting emerald eyes and her skin was the perfect combination of ebony and ivory. The other man was someone Jake had never seen before. Tall, pale and balding, the man wore an old fashioned suit and hat that seemed to have stepped straight out of another time. He affixed the hat to the remnants of his ice blond hair, slicked back to give him a snake-like appearance, and leant his weight on a long black cane. Jake half expected the man to pull a monocle and place it on over his searing ice blue eyes.
“...So if you have any questions,” Jezebel said as she held the door open for the snake man. “Do not hesitate to call us.”
“Thank you madame,” he said in a thick French accent. “I will be sure to do that.” The man seemed to notice Jake for the first time and immediately dropped his voice. Jake couldn't tell what he was saying, but Jezebel nodded a few times. When the man seemed to be fully satisfied, he buttoned his jacket and exited the room. Jezebel looked at Jake and nodded.
“Your father will see you now.”
One of my resolutions was to try to be more constant and update this with at least two new items every month. Hope you enjoy!
Inferno - Chapter one
He woke up with a start. He had fallen straight through his dream and landed with a start in his body. He'd fallen asleep outside of his dads office again. The clock ticked, echoing loudly through the hallway he occupied. He lifted his body off of the plush, black leather couch that smelled of cigars and ink and tried to shake himself awake. With a yawn, he checked his watch; how long had he been asleep? Pressing one hand against his temple, he tried to fix his hair as he waited for any sign of life from behind the thick wooden doors that blocked his fathers office.
“Jake, what are you doing here?” Naomi asked. Jake looked over to see his old babysitter walking by the door to his fathers office. She wore her dark hair in a bun and walked towards him to give him a hug. Jake begrudgingly stood up and hugged the woman he once called nanny, and let her turn him around to take a look at him. “You've certainly grown.” She said with a laugh. Jake felt his stomach turn slightly. “If you're waiting for you're father...”
“I have to wait, I know.” Jake said with a grunt. He didn't like being treated like a child; much less by someone who had watched him grow up. She looked taken aback for a second, before allowing another sweet smile to settle on her bright red lips.
“Of course.” Was all she said. “I'm sure he'll be by shortly. I have some things I need to do.” She said motioning down to stack of papers in her hand with a nod. “You... well, come by more often. I want to know how everything is going. Do you have a girlfriend yet?”
“Stop.” Jake said as he shrugged out of her reach. “Alright, alright I'll stop.” She said suppressing a slight laugh. “It's good to see you again.” She reached over, despite his silent protestations, and gave him the best hug she could muster with only one arm. “Be good.” She said touching his cheek for a moment before turning back towards the door.
“I'll try.” He said as he sat back in the chair. She smiled at him one final time, sighed, and left the room. Jake readjusted himself on the seat, as if doing so would put him back into whatever mood he was in before this. However, before he could settle the large oak doors opened and two figures walked through the door.
The first was Jezebel, his father's personal assistant. A beautiful, yet somehow dangerous looking woman. Undeniably attractive, she could have easily been a model had she not possessed an intelligence sharp enough to cut a man in half. Her long black hair always hung loose around her face and her make up was always applied in the most seductive way possible. She wore glasses which only seemed to enhance her enchanting emerald eyes and her skin was the perfect combination of ebony and ivory. The other man was someone Jake had never seen before. Tall, pale and balding, the man wore an old fashioned suit and hat that seemed to have stepped straight out of another time. He affixed the hat to the remnants of his ice blond hair, slicked back to give him a snake-like appearance, and leant his weight on a long black cane. Jake half expected the man to pull a monocle and place it on over his searing ice blue eyes.
“...So if you have any questions,” Jezebel said as she held the door open for the snake man. “Do not hesitate to call us.”
“Thank you madame,” he said in a thick French accent. “I will be sure to do that.” The man seemed to notice Jake for the first time and immediately dropped his voice. Jake couldn't tell what he was saying, but Jezebel nodded a few times. When the man seemed to be fully satisfied, he buttoned his jacket and exited the room. Jezebel looked at Jake and nodded.
“Your father will see you now.”
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Inferno - Prologue
So a while ago Dennis came to me with the idea of creating a steam punk version of Dante's inferno and it's an idea I really gravitated towards. I'm a huge fan of the genre and immediately started to write out some primary drafts of the story which I'm now sharing with you now.
This was the original prologue designed to set the mood for the novel. In a good prologue you introduce the tone, the character and the main themes of the book. Or at least you should. I think I was fairly successful in this. Thinking I'll keep writing it as time goes on and try to make something cohesive and delightfully twisted.
Inferno : Prologue by Matti McLean
So yeah, that's Dante's Prologue. Let me know what you think!
As a note, the artwork is not mine but perfectly emulates the mood I was going for so I had to use it. My thanks to Chenzan
He closed his eyes as the distant screams whipped past his ears. Smoke billowed through the darkness that clouded his dream as he fell through black storm clouds. Tumbling like a rag doll through smokey billows as skeletal beasts flew past on wings of bone and burnt flesh. The sound of clockwork echoing through their empty skulls. Above him a thousand dark creatures swirled as if preparing to attack the prey. One beast lunged a fanged tangle of teeth towards him missing him by inches. Thousands more seemed to appear and lunge at him as he passed by them, and they'd cackle as if he was another piece of meat for them to consume.
The ground below him burnt. The remnants of a city long burnt and still smouldering were splayed out below him. Long trenches stretched out as the dark landscape seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. Tall towers that must have one been proud symbols of technology and progress stretched thousands of feet into the air. A giant clock tower, now decrepit and crumbling stretched out below him, but was rising quickly.
He fell, passing through the burnt sky and between the giant buildings that thrust into the sky. As he fell at speeds he could hardly comprehend; hurtling towards the street he could feel the air grow thick with heat as breath after breath thick with ash rushed into the burnt, scarring remains of his lungs. Two thousand feet, one thousand feet, a hundred feet- all flew by faster then he could recognize. As he was about to find himself a stain on the ground, the earth itself opened up in a giant mouth revealing miles and miles of dark cliff that stretched into a churning lake of fire. Bodies rolled in the flames and the sound of a million screams of terror burst from the ground and threatened to rip him apart. A thousand burnt fingers reached out to him as if pleading him for some form of relief; as if he and he alone could bring them relief. He tried desperately to do anything else, but he continued to fall helplessly, being drawn into the fiery, molten mass below him. The heat radiated at such a heat it almost burst his skin from his body. He screamed as the ground above swallowed him whole and the fire burned on.
So yeah, that's Dante's Prologue. Let me know what you think!
As a note, the artwork is not mine but perfectly emulates the mood I was going for so I had to use it. My thanks to Chenzan
Thursday, November 3, 2011
NANO inspiration - Why You Matter
This was a quick little forum post I posted as an inspirational pep talk to everyone doing NaNoWriMo this year. I'm hoping that someone will be inspired. Either here, or elsewhere. But I hope you enjoy it! It goes along with my original mandate about trying to create a community and the creation of a writing help blog and all that...
I hope you like it! I don't know if it makes any sense, but then again, when do I ever make any sense?
Pep Talk - or Why You Matter
Everyone has a dream. Many people will be releasing their dream to the world this month through a little event all of us know as NaNoWriMo. So much of the world wants to let their voices be heard and the brilliant thing is that, for at least one month, you, the one who is reading this right now, wi'll have the voice and the audience to achieve this.
Isn't that awesome?
Nanowrimo has been a very important part of my life for the better part of my adult life. Stories I've written through NaNoWriMo have become novels, plays, dreams and short stories that have helped to enrich my life and have allowed me to thoroughly root myself in my imagination.
What a great word. Imagination. So many people complain that imagination is only reserved for children. I'm proud to say that this isn't true. Your imagination is your ultimate weapon against the nemesis of mediocrity.
I may go out on tangents sometimes, but I like to think it's a result of my overactive imagination.
I want to tell something to every writer out there, and if you take nothing else from this posting, I hope you take this.
You matter.
Your voice matters.
Your writing matters.
You matter.
Why do I want to impart this to you?
Well the first reason is simple. I want everyone to know that they possess a voice that is distinctly their own, and that even though they may be in a world that will openly reject, dismiss and humiliate them, they still matter. Your voice is your own and no one else can see the world exactly as you do.
The second is slightly more complicated. I believe that your writing is a reflection of you. What you write down is your soul exposed to the world. It is you. Your visions. Your beliefs. Everything. You. Are. What you write. You live in your writing. People get to know you through your writing, even if you never meet them. It's amazing how much you can tell about a writer by simply reading one of their poems. Even haikus.
Everyone matters.
Everything you're creating
Will help you in life.
Think about your favorite authors. Rowling, King, Gaiman... They all started where you are right now. (although maybe they started on typewriters) With a blank page and made some of your favorite stories. They created characters out of nothing, and now you find yourself totally free to follow in their footsteps and stand on their shoulders.
Now, I know you might think it's a little overwhelming... And it is. Blank pages can be scary. Terrifying. Even bad! When all you can see is the little blinking line at the top of a blank page the pressure to write { 1,667 } words in a day can be downright daunting. Terrifying. Just awful. Gut wrenchingly, painstakingly awful.
But... all it takes is one word to unleash a cavalcade of emotional genius. And before you know it, the story will start to happen.
But Matti, you say, why do you think my writing matters?
Well... because there are people out there who desperately need to hear what you have to say of course. Your work will be read: Maybe not as fast as you'd like them too (I have friends who have had my book for MONTHS and not read it yet. SO FRUSTRATING!) but eventually, they will. They will drink in your words like a glass of fresh water into the soul. Writing can be the ultimate release for many feelings: Anger, regret, remorse, grief... and someone out there who desperately needs to know that everything will be okay will be looking for someone who's been through their experiences. Someone out there may be looking for the validation, or inspiration, or imagination that your writing will provide them.
Donald Miller wrote a blog a little while ago called "The Best Writing Advice I've ever received", and in my opinion it's brilliant. He says that we all need to love our reader. And he's write. (ha ha! I made a pun!)
I have a tendency to ramble so I just wanted to tell everyone that you matter. You all matter.
You sitting there reading this. You matter.
YOU!
Everyone has a dream. Many people will be releasing their dream to the world this month through a little event all of us know as NaNoWriMo. So much of the world wants to let their voices be heard and the brilliant thing is that, for at least one month, you, the one who is reading this right now, wi'll have the voice and the audience to achieve this.
Isn't that awesome?
Nanowrimo has been a very important part of my life for the better part of my adult life. Stories I've written through NaNoWriMo have become novels, plays, dreams and short stories that have helped to enrich my life and have allowed me to thoroughly root myself in my imagination.
What a great word. Imagination. So many people complain that imagination is only reserved for children. I'm proud to say that this isn't true. Your imagination is your ultimate weapon against the nemesis of mediocrity.
I may go out on tangents sometimes, but I like to think it's a result of my overactive imagination.
I want to tell something to every writer out there, and if you take nothing else from this posting, I hope you take this.
You matter.
Your voice matters.
Your writing matters.
You matter.
Why do I want to impart this to you?
Well the first reason is simple. I want everyone to know that they possess a voice that is distinctly their own, and that even though they may be in a world that will openly reject, dismiss and humiliate them, they still matter. Your voice is your own and no one else can see the world exactly as you do.
The second is slightly more complicated. I believe that your writing is a reflection of you. What you write down is your soul exposed to the world. It is you. Your visions. Your beliefs. Everything. You. Are. What you write. You live in your writing. People get to know you through your writing, even if you never meet them. It's amazing how much you can tell about a writer by simply reading one of their poems. Even haikus.
Everyone matters.
Everything you're creating
Will help you in life.
Think about your favorite authors. Rowling, King, Gaiman... They all started where you are right now. (although maybe they started on typewriters) With a blank page and made some of your favorite stories. They created characters out of nothing, and now you find yourself totally free to follow in their footsteps and stand on their shoulders.
Now, I know you might think it's a little overwhelming... And it is. Blank pages can be scary. Terrifying. Even bad! When all you can see is the little blinking line at the top of a blank page the pressure to write { 1,667 } words in a day can be downright daunting. Terrifying. Just awful. Gut wrenchingly, painstakingly awful.
But... all it takes is one word to unleash a cavalcade of emotional genius. And before you know it, the story will start to happen.
But Matti, you say, why do you think my writing matters?
Well... because there are people out there who desperately need to hear what you have to say of course. Your work will be read: Maybe not as fast as you'd like them too (I have friends who have had my book for MONTHS and not read it yet. SO FRUSTRATING!) but eventually, they will. They will drink in your words like a glass of fresh water into the soul. Writing can be the ultimate release for many feelings: Anger, regret, remorse, grief... and someone out there who desperately needs to know that everything will be okay will be looking for someone who's been through their experiences. Someone out there may be looking for the validation, or inspiration, or imagination that your writing will provide them.
Donald Miller wrote a blog a little while ago called "The Best Writing Advice I've ever received", and in my opinion it's brilliant. He says that we all need to love our reader. And he's write. (ha ha! I made a pun!)
I have a tendency to ramble so I just wanted to tell everyone that you matter. You all matter.
You sitting there reading this. You matter.
YOU!
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