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Post by James on Jun 9, 2010 2:45:22 GMT -5
The Beginning The sounds of everyday life echoed through the room, coughs and sneezes mingling with heavy footsteps and the clicking of pens. For a second David thought it might have been vaguely beautiful, if he wasn’t in such a hurry. He had a date waiting for him at a fancy restaurant, waiting and probably growing more annoyed. He was meant to have been there ten minutes ago, but he was still stuck in the unmoving bank queue. As he watched the woman in front of him count out a bag of coins he could only wonder how much longer it was going to take. |
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Post by James on Jun 9, 2010 2:46:47 GMT -5
Entry One The sounds of everyday life echoed through the room, coughs and sneezes mingling with heavy footsteps and the clicking of pens. For a second David thought it might have been vaguely beautiful, if he wasn’t in such a hurry. He had a date waiting for him at a fancy restaurant, waiting and probably growing more annoyed. He was meant to have been there ten minutes ago, but he was still stuck in the unmoving bank queue. As he watched the woman in front of him count out a bag of coins he could only wonder how much longer it was going to take.
David sighed as he another coin hissed across the cheap Formica countertop, pressed flat by an ancient bony fingertip. A dime, he was sure of it. He’d been standing here long enough that he had become confident in his ability to identify the coins by the sound they made as they were slowly tallied. His eyes lingered longingly on the on the boldly scribed “Out of Order” sign attached to the coin-counting machine by the door.
He checked his watch. According to it he’d been waiting in line for roughly ten minutes. It had seemed like an eternity; and judging from his position—thirteenth from the front—he had a couple more to eternities to go.
A pleasant tone of greeting chimed out from one of the two teller counters, the green “HELLO” sign blinking invitingly above the desk beckoning the next customer forward. David shook his head, baffled that on a day as busy as today, with a line as long as this, they would only have a pair of teller windows open. Especially with grandma-penny-jar up there counting out her retirement ten cents at a time. You’d think someone with so little time left to live wouldn’t want to be spending it counting change at the bank. The old bird looked as though she could kick over any second, he mused grimly.
Of course, then where’d he be? They’d probably shut down the whole branch for an hour or more while the paramedics determined the obvious; that she (and probably a number of others) eventually died of boredom. It’d be an epidemic.
A heavy tap on his shoulder interrupted his internal ranting. David turned his head and saw a bulky with sausage-like fingers withdraw his pendulous mitt.
“Black Sabbath, huh?” The fat man asked. The stubble-laden flesh beneath his chin hung loose about his neck and danced when he spoke.
Silent confusion was the only response David could muster.
“Your shirt.” The man pointed with his kielbasa of a thumb, his breath smelled like coffee, and considerably better than the rest of him. “You like Black Sabbath?”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess.” David turned his back to the man dismissively, a little annoyed, and in desperate need of fresh air. He hadn’t realized he’d worn that shirt, having rushed out of the house to meet Karen for lunch. She hated his old heavy-metal t-shirts and most certainly wouldn’t approve of him wearing one the first time he met her parents. He’d have to go home and change. All the more reason this line needed to move faster.
As though on cue, the chime sounded again and the old woman crossed the two hundred dollar mark in her collection of really slow coins. The queue inched forward again.
“I really like that one song.”
Oh God, save me from this, David thought.
“The one that goes, ‘Bahnahnahnah nahnahnahnah nahnahnahnah,’” an air-guitar was deployed, “’nahnahnahnah nahnahnahnah nahnahnahnah nah-nah-NAH!’ You know the one?”
“Yeah . . . That one’s pretty good.” David tried once more to extract himself from the conversation.
“Yeah, what’s it called, again? It’s like, ‘Crazy’ or ‘Schizoid’ or something, right?” He appeared deep in thought. “It’s something like that.” He nudged David’s shoulder with his meaty fist, “C’mon you know, what is it?”
Come on man, David thought, get a clue! “Paranoid, it’s called Paranoid.” I don’t want to talk to you, you smelly disgusting man!
“Yeah, that’s it! I like that one.” He trailed off into awkward silence.
David breathed a light sigh of relief, and stood quietly in line making an active effort to never look over his shoulder. Several more customers approached the teller window and eventually left. He checked his watch again. Karen was going to kill him. He pulled out his cell phone and sent a text message, “At the bank, taking forever, be there soon.” And place the phone back in his pocket.
His right arm dropped and his hand touched the leather sheath of the rope draped between the stanchions designating the snake-like path of the line. Something wet stuck to his finger and he withdrew his hand as though he’d just set it on a hot burner. His fingertips glistened with some unknown clear substance and he glance about feverishly for an answer. His eyes landed on a child, in the row before him sniffling and wiping his nose repeatedly.
David frowned and wiped his hand on his jeans. He had to get out of here before he lost it completely.
“Hotter’n the devil’s butt-hole in here, huh?” The man behind him was speaking again. He was sweating profusely. David had to admit that it was awfully warm, had to be especially uncomfortable for a man that size.
“Yeah, yeah it’s a little warm.” What are you doing? Don’t engage. Repeat; do not engage!
Another ten minutes of smelly vapors and screaming kids later the old woman finally finished counting. David was next. He watch the teller, a tallish woman with straight shoulder-length ebony hair and a smile on her face hand the old lady a deposit receipt. How could she still be smiling after an ordeal like that?
The chime sounded and “HELLO” blinked and David nearly knocked over the elderly lady toddling her way from the counter to the door. He approached the desk, taking a breath, trying to calm himself.
“How can I help you today?” The teller asked. Her voice was friendly her demeanor appeared impervious.
“Just a deposit today,” David extracted a folded up check from his back pocket while the teller tapped the keys on computer, “Can I borrow a pen, please?”
She smiled and handed him a writing tool, “Do you know your account number?”
“Oh, yeah, hang on.” David took the pen from her hand setting it on the counter and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up to one of the inner flaps, exposing a membership card slipped into one of the clear photograph holders. “Here.”
She took the wallet from him and tapped the number into her computer. David attempted to scrawl his name onto the back of the check, then pen didn’t write.
“Excuse me,” he checked her nametag, “Uh, Satine? Do you have another pen?” She looked up at him with a strange look in her eye, one hand digging blindly into a drawer behind the counter. She handed him a pen and turned back to her computer. David shifted uncomfortably, “So, Satine. . . that’s an unusual name. But you probably get that a lot, right?”
“No,” she looked right at him, her face seemed different, “What’s unusual about it?”
“Well, it’s not a name you’d expect to encounter at the bank.” His palms were sweating, why wasn’t she making the deposit? “It’s like something from Moulin Rouge or something.” He chuckled nervously.
“Like a burlesque dancer?” Her voice became stern. He’d offended her. He could feel it.
“No. No, not like that. . .” He backpedalled for all he was worth, “Like the movie, with Nicole Kidman. You know the one.”
“The one about the burlesque dancers.” She reached out and took her pen from his hand. “There’s a problem with your account number, sir. I’m going to need you to take a seat at that desk over there.” She pointed behind him to a pair of large oaken desks placed before important looking leather chairs and adorned with expensive looking computer monitors. “Lucy will be with you in a moment.”
“Wait, what’s wrong with my account?” There was desperation in his voice. He just wanted to get out of this place. He looked to his right and saw the fat man leaving. The man nodded his direction, stuck out his tongue and threw the horns.
“Lucy will be able to help you, sir.” Satine continued, “Next.” Her finger pressed the button near her monitor, the chime sounded and a woman pushed her way past David up to the teller’s window.
David sighed and checked his phone. No word from Karen; that meant she was mad. He sulked over to the desk he was directed to. The nameplate read, “Lucille DeVille.” He sat, slouched, into the significantly less expensive chair on his designated side of the desk. He checked his watch. This was taking forever.
David didn’t know how long he sat there, only that eventually he awoke to the sound of Lucy’s voice. He sat up straight and looked with sleep-blurred eyes at the woman across the desk from him. She had a wavy mane of fiery red hair, a slender frame and seductive lips. The kind of woman could have slept her way to the top, but chose the more cutthroat method of stomping on those who got in her way.
“Well, Mr. Ross, welcome back. My apologies for the wait, I was in a meeting.” She made a few commanding keystrokes and looked David in the eye. “Satine said there was a problem with your account. Are you aware of any issues?”
“Um, no.” David uttered. He checked his watch; he’d been here almost three hours. “Why?” He checked his phone; still no word from Karen. She must be really mad.
“Well, everything appears to be in order here,” She shrugged, “I was just curious if Satine had mentioned anything to you about what the problem might have been?”
“No. No she didn’t, she was actually kind of rude about it.” He felt a sense of indignity bubbling up inside.
“Well, then, Mr. Ross, I apologize for the error.” Lucille stood, David watched her, entranced. “One of the teller’s should be able to help you shortly.” She began to walk away.
“Wait, what?” He blinked away Lucille’s image from his mind, “You can’t help me here?”
“No, I’m sorry, Mr. Ross. This computer is not permitted to engage in financial transactions. If you just wait in line, one of the tellers will be with you shortly.”
“I just waited in line!” He shouted. She didn’t flinch. Stranger still, neither did anyone else. In fact, it occurred to him suddenly that, though everyone had been waiting for an unreasonably extended period of time to reach the teller’s counter, he had been the only person who had seemed even the least bit anxious about it.
Something wasn’t right here. David made his way back to the line, the sounds of everyday life echoed through the room. Coughs and sneezes mingled with heavy footsteps and the clicking of pens. For a second he thought it might have been vaguely beautiful, if it wasn’t so eerily familiar. Karen was still waiting for him at a fancy restaurant, waiting and most certainly angry. He was meant to have been there three hours and ten minutes ago, but he was still stuck in the bank queue; thirteen from the front. He watched a young boy and the teller counter with his mother; counting out a bag of coins and wondered how long it was going to take.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. His heart sank as he turned around. Behind him stood a man, a completely different man from before, but thematically the same. Heavy, bearded, wearing a stained t-shirt with a dragon printed on the front.
“Ozzy or Dio?” He asked frankly.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what’s going on here?” David demanded, staring into a security camera as though a group of hidden cameramen were about to jump out and reveal it was all a gag; like on TV.
He heard Satine’s voice mention to the other teller that she was going on her break and would be closing her window.
“Going on break?!” He’d lost control of his voice. There was no way he was standing here for another three hours while Satine took a long lunch. No one reacted.
“Ozzy or Dio?” The fat man asked again.
David watched Satine flip the switch to turn of the green sign above her window. Only the “O” went out. |
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Post by James on Jun 9, 2010 2:47:56 GMT -5
Entry Two The sounds of everyday life echoed through the room, coughs and sneezes mingling with heavy footsteps and the clicking of pens. For a second David thought it might have been vaguely beautiful, if he wasn’t in such a hurry. He had a date waiting for him at a fancy restaurant, waiting and probably growing more annoyed. He was meant to have been there ten minutes ago, but he was still stuck in the unmoving bank queue. As he watched the woman in front of him count out a bag of coins he could only wonder how much longer it was going to take.
Slowly, with shivering hands, the old woman dropped coin after coin into the space in front of the register. The woman running it watched lazily, not moving a finger to speed up the process in any legitimate way. He looked back; the line stretched towards the back of the building. He looked forward; just the old crone was in his way,
Finally, the hag stopped shuffling through her things and pushed the massive pile of quarters and nickels and dimes forward. The waitress took them and quickly sorted them into their proper places, handing the woman back a thick wad of single dollar bills. The old woman thanked her with a nod before turning and marching off, in an almost militant manner, towards the exit of the bank.
With a sigh of relief, David stepped forward. He locked eyes with the cashier, who smiled at him. She was much prettier than his date.
Nearly before he could finish the thought, however, the old woman came back - now with a much larger purse, ringing with metal. The women smiled at each other knowingly, the cashier shooting a sadistic glance back at the man.
He looked down at his watch; I don’t really need the money, do I? he thought. I’ll just have her pay for the meal.
Defeated, he stared back at the line again and began his walk along their sides towards the exit doors. They opened as he approached with their industrial magic, and closed as he walked out. He continued down the curb, towards where he’d left his car.
A few SUVs passed by, all equally purple and bland. The wind felt nice; it was in the midst of the summer. The heat had broken records, or so the weatherman had said on the television in the morning. But he said that every morning, so he hadn’t paid much heed, mistakenly tossing on his ordinary, stifling clothes. They were striped and a light blue above his waist, with a nice purple tie. Below his waist, they were varying shades of black and purple.
A van sped into the lot through the exit, pieces of paint and metal ripping off of it seemingly just from the wind it was creating. It came to a halting stop in front of David, and the large, sliding door in the back of it opened with a loud creak. It was all painted red, though it seemed brown. Inside was nothing but darkness.
From the black came a pair of hands; they grabbed David by his shoulders, and pulled. He yelped, and then screamed, and continued to scream. A few people walking by stopped, briefly, and glanced at him, before continuing. They seemed frightened. A few cars honked their horns. The hands pulled the door closed quickly and something was pulled over his head. There was no sound, no sight, and time began to blur.
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A beautiful woman wearing a little red dress sat at a small, circular table, covered in finery and potted flowers and silverware. She was surrounded by similar looking people at similar tables. She sat there, bored, spinning a cup of wine around in her hand without going to drink it.
A man in a black suit, carrying a towel over his arm and notepad in his hand, stepped over to her table. “Would you like to order now, ma’am?”
She sighed, and nodded, closing her eyes. “Just…a little more wine, I suppose. I’ve lost my appetite.”
The waiter nodded, walking off again. She smiled to herself.
A ring emerged from her purse, strewn against the floor. She reached inside and pulled out a tiny, plastic rectangle. She unfolded it and it became two rectangles, connected by a circular joint. A number of little rectangles sat on the lower of the two, and a slightly smaller one sat on the upper. She pressed one of the little ones and the slightly smaller lit up. She held it to her ear.
“Yes?” she answered.
“Do you know David?” a very foreign, acidic voice asked.
“No,” she responded nonchalantly. She applied pressure with her thumb to another of the small geometric shapes and the larger became dark again. |
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Post by James on Jun 12, 2010 18:36:44 GMT -5
Entry One's Reviews “David sighed as he another coin hissed across the cheap Formica countertop, pressed flat by an ancient bony fingertip.” “he” doesn’t make sense here. No other complaints. Very nice story, realistic and I could –really- feel the frustration in it. Only awesome stories force you to feel the emotions, so you did good. *** Uhm... WOW. I'll forgive the oddly disappointing fact that it's blatantly obvious who wrote this in exchange for how epically fantastic it is. I have no complaints outside of silly grammatical stuff. Excellent dialogue, excellent writing, excellent story. w00t. *** (There was an error in the first sentence – not including starter!) Other than the little mistake the beginning was really good. I like the description and the feeling of time drawing itself out slowly. Haha! Okay … I laughed a lot when he actually started singing. The thoughts were just perfect too! I really liked being able to see inside his mind. The quick talking at the teller window was very clever. The shortness of his replies and then the silence and the awkward bits. Perfect. Passing the buck? Awesome! After all that waiting and she could not help him? Back to square one, please Sir! I lol’d … hard. I loved that you used the starter twice as well! It gave the whole thing a ground-hog day feel. *** A fun little story. I knew something was up when I found out the girl's name was Satine. The ending was pretty cool, I liked that. There wasn't really anything wrong with the story itself. You could feel David's annoyance throughout the entire thing, and I was even starting to wish the line would hurry up. So congratulations on that. I would like to point out, though, there were a few glaring errors in your piece, no doubt because you were writing this late at night. It seemed like that, anyways. You missed a lot of words. Try to reread and correct those mistakes, if you can. But otherwise, pretty good. *** This piece was diabolically clever from start to finish. A bit of word play along the way with the names, the height of irritation with the horrid people one actually has to deal with in public, the rude, slow and disinterested “customer service” one finds in the most hellish situations – half the fun was recognizing more than once, “Wow. I’ve been there. Man that sucks… “ There were a few errors (word omission/extra word insertion, a couple typos) but nothing that seriously detracted from the incredibly realistic feel of the piece, and the horribly-familiar feel of the dialogue. |
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Post by James on Jun 12, 2010 18:38:54 GMT -5
Entry Two's Reviews That was... intriguing. Intriguing in the sort of, "Okay, now you have to spend some time having these interesting elements all add up and make sense" sort of way. It has great potential to be something that it isn't made into, unfortunately. *** Uh. What happened? I don't get it. I'm seriously incredibly confused. First of all, the cashier. Why did she give him a sadistic glare? I don't get it. Was she an evil cashier? Second, who was pulling the guy into the van and why do I care? Third, why didn't you call the cell-phone a cell-phone! A rectangle that become two smaller rectangles with little rectangles on one rectangle...I don't understand a fucking thing! And is the woman his date? I thought so, but I guess she's an evil date now, all of a sudden. Or something. Seriously, what the fuck was happening. I think everything went well, spelling and grammar wise, but man...that story almost didn't make any sense. If you're going to write a short story, don't make everyone so confused. *** I had the feeling this was the beginning of an interesting story – though it cut off far too early, with far too little explanation of why any of this happened to David. Was he an “innocent bystander?” Did he “know too much?” Was he a “high value target of some kind?” I had absolutely no idea. Spoiler:
There was a certain “blandness” about David’s kidnapping as well. We got no insights into what he was thinking, or how he was feeling. Surprise? Terror? Was he expecting something like this to happen, and got caught off guard? Did he know these guys, or the vehicle, or…?
And the part about the woman in the restaurant? I had absolutely no idea what that was all about, with the geometric shapes? The detailed description of a cell phone? I simply could not figure out why that was there, or what it added? *** A little bit of missing punctuation. Nothing really pulling me in so far (before the break). There weren’t really any emotions to show. It could have used a little more description and realism. Like, you mentioned it was a record breaking hot day, there would be fans in the bank and it would be a stifling heat. Just something more to make the World a bit more real. (Wondering why all the purple too?) Again, there was no emotion. I think a paragraph of him panicking and questioning would have helped. Mix in some description about the thing over his head and the bumps in the road! It has possibility. Nothing really stood out in this story, I’m afraid. There was no major connection to anything. I didn’t feel scared or worried for David at all. The plot was a brilliant thing to do though! I give you compliments on the idea; I just wanted more than was given. *** Uh. Not really sure what went on here. It was okay, no complaints. |
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Post by o ding on Jul 8, 2010 12:47:09 GMT -5
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The Drall
Junior Author
Legal Property of AWR
Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.
Posts: 3,796
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Post by The Drall on Jul 8, 2010 12:48:15 GMT -5
Really? I was SURE you had written the story of the guy who killed himself because he didn't become a sailor... Huh... |
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Post by o ding on Jul 8, 2010 12:48:49 GMT -5
Nope.
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The Drall
Junior Author
Legal Property of AWR
Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.
Posts: 3,796
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Post by The Drall on Jul 8, 2010 12:50:42 GMT -5
...Who else did I get wrong, then... |
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Post by ASGetty ((Zovo)) on Jul 8, 2010 14:49:12 GMT -5
Really? I had you pegged for a completely different entry. I gotta ask; why didn't you just say "cellular phone?" |
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Post by o ding on Jul 8, 2010 14:49:41 GMT -5
Really? I had you pegged for a completely different entry. I gotta ask; why didn't you just say "cellular phone?" I was tired and out of ideas. |
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