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  Toonami Infolink :: View topic - Dude, you must be f*ing comatose...
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Dude, you must be f*ing comatose...

 
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John_Bono_Smithy_Satchmo

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Joined: Nov 13, 2002
Post subject: Dude, you must be f*ing comatose...
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I plan on releasing a chapter a week. Here's what I've been working on for the last few weeks--although I've only got 2 of 4 chapters done.

Four

Chapter 1: Foreign
He knew he was being sought after. He didn’t realize, however, how soon they would find his trail. He had to move his time-table forward—had to get everything in place now. He prayed everything would fall in place, and had a bitter laugh at the irony. The world would feel his pain. The world would feel his beloved’s pain.
***
She felt the ground beneath her as she woke. She found herself in a shallow puddle, no more than a hand’s length deep. The smell of water—fresh rain pervading the air. She felt grass and mud along with the water, but she didn’t mind getting dirty. Why would anyone? She lay against the sky, her eyes opening to the blackest of nights. And there she stayed, not stirring an inch, for she didn’t feel any compulsion to move. Why would she? An indeterminable time later—maybe minutes, maybe hours, the sky was no longer a black canvas, painted with the light of a billion distant stars, but the deepest shade of blue imaginable. But she remained lying on her back. Why take her eyes from such a gorgeous spectacle. The near ebony blue gave way to lighter shades, and finally tints. How long this took, there was no way to tell. She caught a flash from the corner of her right eye, turning her head to see a gold aura glimmering over a low hill. With as sudden an intensity, the aura became the most blinding display of light imaginable.
She pulled her head back from the luminescent ball that was rising ever so slowly. And since she had already gone to the effort of moving her head twice, she decided to stand up. And there she stood for another interminable amount of time, only this time it was most definitely a long amount of time. She noticed a small bundle of trees, no more than two men tall on the hill opposite where the blazing light had arisen, and a grassy meadow between and around. The water at her ankles dried during that indeterminable time, soaking onto the Earth beneath her feet, and seeping into the sky above.
After this long while, the sun had noticed the sun pass overhead, and decided to follow it. She followed it over the hill with a small bundle of trees, over two more, and around one much steeper. It wasn’t a brisk pace that she followed, for she quickly realized that she had no chance of catching the fleeting orb, deciding that since she had already started walking that she might as well continue.
A third, somewhat more determinable time (as the change in time could be approximated now, by its descent into the distance) later she found herself across a creek. Not a large creak, but most certainly a long one, as she now followed that instead of the sun, guided now by sound rather than light. She followed that sound until it stopped, then decided to stop for herself and sleep, not that she needed the sleep, but that she found it courteous to follow the water’s example.

She awoke to the sound of waterfowl—mostly ducks and geese, her eyes opening, unfolding a nearly still pond before her eyes. The ducks and geese dove their heads into the water, occasionally pulling up an insect or small fish. Upon further inspection, the pond contained quite a number of fish. The ducks had good reason to be here.
After about a quarter of the sun’s movement in the sky, she decided that she’d admired the ducks and geese sufficiently, and followed the creek further down stream. It wasn’t long before shoe heard it—and smelt it. Soft waves in the distance, nearly inaudible. And salt—the air had been saturated with it, and now she understood why. The creek ended, dumping its contents into the vast ocean that lay in the distance. Not wanting to abandon the water she’d been following for a cycle of the sun, she followed it straight into the larger body of water, at least as far as she could feel the fresh, cooler waters.
A gush of water sprang forth in the distance. A massive form seemed to fall upwards, twisting in midair, ending the spectacular display with a fall in the correct direction, and a splash, more spectacular than the original uprising of water. She stood again for another long amount of time, watching the great creatures fall backwards, then forward, until the water had forced her back ten paces and risen from her waist to her chest. As it was, darkness was once again, beginning to pervade, so she again decided to sleep.
***
Erik Schiffman enjoyed his life, quite considerably at that. He had a simple job, delivering important documents to important people, for a reasonable pay, considering he actually worked maybe twenty hours a week—and that was on a hard week. The rest of his time was spent, well doing literally as little of possible that can be considered work. When not out of town, he would call to the house of some friend or another—trying desperately to stave off both boredom and having to do more work that what was absolutely required of him. That was his life—enjoying what he had as best as possible.
And now the phone was ringing. Four thirty in the morning, and the phone was ringing. He would have guessed it to be his friend, Albert calling from a bar, too drunk to drive himself home, but with enough sense left not to try. What bar would be open this late into the near morning, Erik didn’t know, but Al would certainly find one if there was. Erik also didn’t know how the man would have the presence of mind to call a friend if he’d been out drinking until four thirty in the morning, so Erik guessed it probably wasn’t Albert.
The phone was still ringing. That made seven rings, and that was just since the phone started to ring. Whoever it was, Erik figured it must be something rather important, as he couldn’t dream of someone letting the phone ring now eight plus times without giving up.
Erik was thinking slowly. The phone had now rung nine times since he awoke to its blaring screech. He picked up the phone.
The phone rang again. He hit the “talk” button, reminding himself to throw out his cordless phone, and pull his two month antiquated corded phone out of the closet.
“Mr. Schiffman,” a man (or at least what Erik really hoped was the voice of a man) said, “This is Mr. Rubert in the shipping department. I’ve been trying to reach you for quite some time.”
“Oh, I must’ve turned the ringer off, and just picked up to call a friend,” Erik lied, “my apologies,” he lied again.
“I must extend my own apologies for calling at such a time in the morning,” the other man lied, “I have an important request for a package to be delivered…”
***
She awoke for a third time, this time to the sound of the wind over the ocean, caressing its surface and bringing it in high rolling waves across the beach. The air was crisp—cold, in fact, but she didn’t terribly mind.
At this point, she decided that conscious or not, she’d spent enough time next to the water. She decided to go what she could best guess to be southeast, as to her west lay only water, and south seemed to be only beech (and of seeing beaches she’d had her fill). She had walked from the east, and didn’t feel like a repeat of scenery with all the possible other sights in another direction of travel. She also considered north for a brief moment, but decided that she’d taken too ling, and considering north would take that much longer.
She traveled southeast, and for quite a lengthy determinable time, eventually crossing from sand and grass to a wooded area. She found the change of scenery quite a relief—greens and browns replacing yellows and blues before her eyes. The forest she walked seemed a continuous being of chirps, leaves blowing, and grass rustled.
The first curiosity she had—the cause of the rustling sounds—was answered when a magnificent beast, brown-coated and easily twice her size crossed the path before her. It stopped, turned its head towards her, it’s eyes fixated on her form—for what she would have guessed to have been minutes, but in reality was only a few heartbeats—and turned its head, continuing on. She decided to continue on, being rewarded with the sighting of many more creatures, most notably the constant motion of small animals leaping from branch to branch, as well as hurrying up and down trees. And, after all that, the strangest, least natural sight she’d seen since waking up two days since: a very large black line, stretching through the middle of the forest.
_________________
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PostWed Sep 24, 2003 10:06 am
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Green-Bird

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Joined: Apr 14, 2003
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Wow. Nice Job! The story is fast-paced and good! I have no Problems with it.

Where did you get the Idea for this?
_________________
I shake like a toothache,
When I hear myself sing.
Oh, my lies are only wishes,
I know I will die if I could come back new

Wilco- Ashes of American Flags
PostWed Sep 24, 2003 2:08 pm
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John_Bono_Smithy_Satchmo

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Joined: Nov 13, 2002
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Fast-paced? Wha?
Anyway, I just thought it would be cool to write a story about Angels for the last couple months. A few weeks ago, one of the options for my English assignment (due yesterday--but I only got twice as far as you see), which wasn't far off. I had just started writing it, and my Lit. Proffessor gave me the ok to use it.
Again, I just thougt it would be cool. I'm consciously having to fight parallels to AMG, and I hope I'm doing prety well. I've even considered changing Erik's name, just because of the number of letters in common with Keichi. Thankfully, the urge to draqw parallels to Eva are gone, but I'm having a hard time keeping philosophically similar in chapters 3 and 4 to parts of Trigun, without sounding exactly the same. My big hope is that if I elaborate a little more in the dialogue, I can swing it. One nice thing writing has over dialogue is, that if it's not directly timed to action, you can have it almost twice as long as film/animation would allow. Although, in the other project I've been working on over the last year (and made astoundingly little progress on), I do recall once or twice speaking out the dialogue, timing it to other things happening. Ask me about it when/if I publish my book. I do a hell of a lot of research for literary works when necessary.
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PostWed Sep 24, 2003 6:54 pm
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The_Dragon_Master

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Joined: Nov 07, 2002
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*bump*

Very good story. I'm curious to see how it continues.
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"I hope you haven't become too attached to your head, because in about two seconds it will be festively decorating that back wall."
PostMon Oct 13, 2003 1:09 pm
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John_Bono_Smithy_Satchmo

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Joined: Nov 13, 2002
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My apologies. Here's chapter 2. I haven't actually even started chapter 3 yet, though.

Chapter 2: Forgotten
At this point it is important to reiterate that Erik Schiffman particularly enjoyed his life. He had plenty of free time to ponder or not ponder all the great questions of life. He had a decent amount of likeable friends, and he had a decent living. His greatest enemies in life were boredom and accusations that he was going nowhere in said life. He didn’t terribly mind.
At the moment he was considering these things (and quite happily) for about the fourteenth time in that month, he was driving the north highway in his antiquated pickup (which he liked as much as his corded phone) out of Phreysruz City—an odd name for a town in that part of the world, to Reobas City (another oddly named town). It was part of his job, even though he didn’t much care for Reobas City, it not being his home. But, as the fates decided, his life was far too boring, so something happened. More precisely, someone happened. The reader that has paying the least most attention will likely be able to guess whom it was that this someone was.
Being so absorbed in his thoughts of how substantially unfulfilling his life was, and how happy it made him, he only noticed a form over the hood of his pickup, and continued with his thoughts. He then realized that it probably wasn’t a good idea to run into human shaped figures that he saw out the corner of his eyes while he was staring at a tree, and found his foot pinning the brake pedal to the floor. Then he realized that he was slowing down about the time his collarbone, and by the time he realized he was skidding with a light spin clockwise, he was almost at a stop. The right side of the vehicle landed with not a thump, but a whomp.
He took a moment to collect his breath, hoping that in the moment he took to catch said breath that he hadn’t actually ran over whatever the human shaped figure, which had previously appeared to be hunched over and staring at the pavement, with its arms round its legs. Looking out the window, the human figure turned out to be what most human figures that appear to be hunched over with their arms around their legs are: a human.
Erik breathed a sigh of relief, and opened his door, facing the head of exceedingly long brown hair that greeted him back. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t notice you until it was almost too late,” he called, then lowered his voice, realizing that she was only five feet away, “are you okay?”
‘She’ raised her head, as if just noticing him, then smiled. “I’m perfectly fine,” she replied warmly, “there’s no reason for worry.”
“Umm, may I ask exactly what you’re doing, crouched on a road in the middle of nowhere, staring at the ground so intently?”
“I’m sorry, was there something wrong with that?” she asked confused, standing to her feet, and looking more confused as to his reaction.
“No-no,” he turned around suddenly as if something behind him caught his attention. “Er, nothing at all,” he stuttered, concentrating on looking at his pickup. “Just a little surprised to see someone alone so far out from town,” he rummaged behind the passenger seat, finding the object of his search, tossing it behind him.
“What am I supposed to do with a blanket?” she inquired.
“Well, you could cover yourself up.”
“Like this?”
Erik turned around, relieved to see her wrapped in the heavy brown wool from shoulder to knee. “Yes,” he let out a breath of air, “like that.”

***

Erik sat quietly driving. She sat staring out the window quite loudly; admiring the trees, wildlife, and most especially, the speed they were traveling at. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was driving her, except he didn’t like the idea of leaving her on the road like that, and he wanted to keep his blanket after he got her somewhere useful. The only thing that let him pick up someone who was essentially a hitchhiker (and a rather odd one at that) was that he knew she couldn’t possibly have any weapons with her. He also wondered why she didn’t have a particular place in mind when he asked where she wanted to go, instead replying wherever he was going—either not wanting to be a bother or not having any place better to go.. His curiosity got the better of him.
“My name’s Erik. Erik Schiffman.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, “My name is Podarge. I don’t believe I have a last name.”
“That’s a rather strange name,” he thought allowed, not bringing up the stranger fact that she claimed not to know her last name.
“You think so?” she smiled.
Erik decided not to press the issue any further, lest he find more questions to ask.. “So, um, what exactly are you doing out here?” he tried, and failed to ask as politely as possible.
“Oh, just admiring nature. The sun, the sky, the trees, the birds, the foxes, the sand, the-”
“No I mean why are you here,” Erik cut her off.
“Well,” she answered, “I’m not entirely sure.” I guess I’ll find out eventually.
Erik decided to let that subject die as well. If she didn’t want to talk about who she was, or where she was from, it was probably best to leave it as a dead issue.
“Why are you here?” she asked him in return.
“Well, I’m here on this road for my job. About life, I couldn’t really give you an answer, except maybe to live it as happily as possible.”
“And what job has you travel from town to town? That seems like a rather silly thing to do to support yourself.”
“I’m a courier.”
“A courier?”
“I travel from place to place, delivering things. Usually important things that you can’t just mail or fax or email. Important contracts, prototype merchandise, that sort of thing.”
“So, what are you delivering now? I don’t see anything of not on your person.”
“Well, ya know, I’m not exactly sure myself. They never directly told me, and I’m on my way to pick it up.”
“And where are you taking it?”
“They said I’d understand when I got there to pick it up—some company secret they don’t want getting out I’m guessing. So I guess it’ll be self explanatory—I just have to trust that it’s not some silly prank that my friends in north branch delivery are pulling on me.”
“Well, then,” Podarge said cheerily, “it appears we aren’t so different after all.”

***

Erik walked the aisles of the clothing store, thinking aloud quietly to himself, picking up clothing that looked appropriate for the woman he’d found wandering in the middle of nowhere. It was rather difficult, trying to guess her sizes while trying not to remember exactly what she looked like when she first stood up on the highway. Thinking along those lines also made him worry about what would’ve happened to the poor woman if it weren’t him that found her. He dispelled the thought, preferring to dwell instead on the more immediate fear that someone would find her in the passenger seat of his pickup, dressed only in a heavy wool blanket. And, as the fates had it, someone did.

“Excuse me, miss, would you mind a word?”
“Not at all,” Podarge replied to the man standing outside of the window of Erik’s motor vehicle, “what would you like to discuss?” she asked, also pondering why a man would wear formal attire, (and hot formal attire at that, in such warm weather). He’d been walking from car to car, conversing with people who stop their motor vehicles temporarily at the whim of a colored sequence of lights. She also wondered it the sequence of lights was controlled by the man wearing formal clothing, as its timing seemed to work quite to his goal of talking to people outside the windows of their motor vehicles.
“I would like to ask if you know about the Holy Book.”
“Go right ahead.”
The man in the formal attire laughed in between sweating. “I would like to know if you’ve heard the word of God.”
“Well, I can’t say I can recall hearing the word of God directly.”
“Why is the book so holy? What makes is so special over everything else—anything of equal value that tries to work for the betterment of man? Why is it any better than say, the United States Declaration of Independence?”
“Because it’s the word of God.”
“So says the book. But what if it was just written by someone that wanted you to think in a certain way—along those lines?”
“There are many witnesses to these happenings, they are the inspired words of God, and it is the only book that has changed so little in four thousand years. Through translation, through war. In fact, no other book is that old.”
“So, because it was the first book, it makes the book holy, and the words truer?”
“Well, you seem to already know the answer. Why don’t you tell me?”
“Alright, the answer is that it doesn’t matter. All a person needs to do is maintain the suspension of belief—they have to think for a while that this actually is the word of God, in its pure form, regardless of whether it is or not. Then, when you put it all together, it doesn’t even matter if it’s the word of God or not; the message is exactly the same and just as important, just as useful, just as true either way, for any practical purposes. It then works, regardless of whether the writing hand was that of a profit, or that of a novelist.”
“So, you’re saying that it doesn’t matter if the Bible is the word of God, just that the message is a good one?”
“And why is it holy?”
“Because we make it holy.”

***

Erik chuckled to himself as he walked up to the cash register—imagining what his family and friends’ reactions to his current predicament would be. His older sister would simply laugh. His parents would tell him to be a gentleman and to keep his hands off her. His friend Albert Miller would tell him exactly the opposite. So far he’d made it this far without any odd stares, but one from the checkout clerk prompted from a response.
“They’re for my older sister—for her birthday,” he tried to say calmly, but instead lit up read and stuttered.
The cashier smiled knowingly, but what she smiled knowingly about Erik wasn’t entirely sure. His actual story was the most ridiculous one he’d ever heard—he admitted that to even himself. “I bet they’re for a special someone,” she then winked.
“Well,” not exactly, “I’d be afraid to get near this woman. She seems a little too perfect—like an angel.
“Well, that’s a good thing, then,” the cashier smiled again. “You’re not supposed to fall in love with an angel. Always leads to tragedy.”
“Sage words,” said Erik, pulling his wallet from his pocket, to swipe a debit card and thinking how severely he hoped his previous week’s paycheck had already been processed.
He walked out of the clothing store in time to notice a missionary leaving the general direction of his pickup.
“Hope he didn’t make her think too hard or get confused,” he thought aloud. “Hope you didn’t get too bored here by yourself,” he said when he reached the truck.
“Oh, I was quite fine. The city is quite beautiful.”
How anyone could find the most run down part of Reobas City beautiful was beyond Erik, but he would have guessed correctly that Podarge would’ve described just about anything as beautiful. “I got you some clothes,” he handed her a paper bag through the open window.
“Thank you,” she said, holding it on her lap, starring at it for a few seconds, and then looking back to Erik.
Erik turned around, making sure that he wasn’t able to see her, and that passing traffic couldn’t either. Then he prayed that she knew how to put on a set of clothing. He told himself to think about the best way to get to the North branch offices.
“All dressed,” he heard behind him. And to his relief and lack of embarrassment, Podarge appeared to be properly dressed by all standards.
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PostMon Oct 13, 2003 4:35 pm
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