In a few hours I’ll probably wish I’d held this back for some rewrites, but considering I have a ton of work to do on my script this week, it’s probably best if I post it now. Enjoy this challenge, on which I spent most of today. No regrets…I never get sick of finishing a piece of writing.
Edit: What do I have to do to make this fucking blog recognize tabs? I want my damned paragraphs.
————————————————————–
I: OFFICER MIKE MCCLEARY
Was a time, them bad boys was all we worried about. They came down, took over some host bodies, and though it started out like some sort of crazy epidemic we treated like a sickness, we eventually found out that we were dealing with aliens.
We didn’t know where they were from or anything. We couldn’t get no information from them; they either didn’t speak English or they were playing dumb, like I’ve seen time and time again with aliens.
But came a time, more recent, that we couldn’t trust our government either, or none of them guys in lab coats. I mean, they’re all trying to deal with the invasion in their own way, to learn about them and shit, but I don’t want to learn about them and shit. I want to draw my gun, find them bad boys and Independence Day the shit out of them and send them back to where they came from.
I guess that made it easy to fool me.
The government and the lab coats knew the secrets. Well, they knew some things. For a while the aliens had shown up in host bodies, but they were awkward and easy to spot. Then they got a little better, but we started finding ways to catch them. Well, not “we,” but the smart guys did, the guys in lab coats. Then they talked to guys like me, gave us the devices, and we’d hunt them down. They’d be in the bodies of our neighbors, acting almost but not quite like themselves, and when we’d wrestle them to the ground they’d start that weird triple-clicking thing they do when they’re scared and we’d know we’d bagged another alien.
Then they stopped coming. The aliens were gone. We didn’t think they were coming back.
A couple years later, the Creeping Doubt thing started happening. I didn’t coin that phrase. That was some of them smarter media types. I liked the sound of it, kinda, for some reason. I always envied those smarter guys. Anyway, this sense of dread and paranoia started taking people over. Everyone was turning on everyone, and out of fear of the aliens, they started killing each other. Thing was, only a small percentage of those dead turned out to be the aliens. They were back, but they were undetectable and they were turning us against each other, which hell, can’t have been that hard to figure out since we do it on our own anyhow.
Plus, they’d gotten around our detection methods. We could still catch them through that triple-clicking noise they made when they were threatened, but we couldn’t force it as easily and them fancy detectors we were carrying around didn’t catch them anymore. Now you actually had to kill one and figure out the bones were missing. I suppose you could X-ray them, but the aliens aren’t in the habit of visiting the doctor for a cold.
I’m stuck in an elementary classroom now. We were brought in, all fifteen of us, under the pretense of fighting them bad boys. We were different folks, all of us, and we was supposed to have different strengths to bring to the table. Turns out them lab coat guys were doing government-funded experiments, waiting for aliens to infect us, and trying to find links between who was infected, and when.
They’d prepared to seal us all in, and there are bars on the windows. There’s this guy, Tyrone, who’s real smart with computers and he thinks he can hack the security door. That’s not much help since there are guards outside all the time.
We’ve been here for a couple of weeks, and finally, the Creeping Doubt showed up yesterday. Now that it’s here, we won’t be let out until the lab coats figure out which one of us is hosting the alien.
I’m not particularly worried. I know it’s not me, and I’m the only one in here with a gun.
II: FERD CARNES
Listen to these city folk squeal. Maybe they’re fine with this shit they been forced into, but I ain’t. Mama Carnes didn’t raise no whining bitch, and I weren’t gonna sit by no longer.
“I’m in control now, bitches!” I yell, hammering the gun against the white board. I don’t know where them two docs are watchin’ me from, but this is as good a guess as any. “Dr. Rawlings! Dr. Indian Motherfucker! When you bitches come in for these dead, you bitches gonna be the next ones dead, you hear me? Better come with backup!”
Some idiot, the churchy guy, has been comin’ up behind me as I yell at the white board. I swing around, and watch them all duck or cower as the gun passes by. Goddamn, that’s a powerful feeling. I ain’t gonna shoot no one else, but they ain’t got to know that. I ain’t stupid.
Dr. Rawlings and that Indian ain’t answering. They normally won’t shut up, but they weren’t prepared for no Ferd Carnes to take over, nosiree.
Tired. I’m fuckin’ tired. I got the gun in the middle of the night and I been up since, and now it’s gettin’ late again. But them docs ain’t come in, they ain’t sent nobody in, and the other eleven in here ain’t interested in comin’ at me. I’m lonely as shit all of a sudden in this packed classroom, and I’m tired but I ain’t gonna sleep.
The smell of the dead is keepin’ me awake, so I guess that’s a plus. But I fall asleep, and them alien bitches are comin’ after me. I just know it.
Second wind. Third wind, maybe? Shit, it’s whatever it is. Eleven a.m. and I’m up and good to go, even though I never slept. Still nobody talkin’. Our food shows up through the slot, along with the turtle food, since them dumbasses forgot to pull out the class pet before sealin’ us all up in there.
“What, no announcements with lunch today? Damn shame,” I says, laughin’ at ‘em.
“I don’t think we’re going to hear anything until you and that gun are quiet. Now we have to try to eat with the smell of death in the air.” Our doctor guy. Shoulda known if I couldn’t get the docs out of the room to talk, the first one to talk in here would be the doctor guy.
“Awww, look, someone finally breaks the ice. The nervous Doc Reynard who can’t stop checkin’ his watch, like he’s got somewhere to go.”
The nervous Doc Reynard checks his watch like he’s got somewhere to go and puts out his hands, like he’s going to calm me or some shit. “I’m just saying, maybe we can get you out of here or something. Obviously you’re not an alien. They’re not this…overt. Maybe the doctors can let you out.”
The doc checks his watch and listens for the intercom. Nothing. “Come on, damn it. Ferd has made his point and I think we can let him go.”
“Haha, ‘we’ he says. Shit, doc, you’re one of them.”
Doc Reynard laughs, but he don’t think anything is funny right about now. I turn my attention to the fat bitch who feeds the turtle every day. “Come on, Bertha, our boy’s gettin’ hungry.”
“It’s Melissa, asshole.”
“Asshole? Who you think gots the gun, fat bitch?”
“Fuckin’ shoot me. Whatever.”
“Ferd, she’s seventeen and she’s nervous. Just back up a bit.”
Aw, hell no. Hell no, he did not speak to me. “No, you back up a bit, nigger,” I say to that piece of trash, pointing my gun at him and forgetting anyone else is there. “You just give me a reason. Them aliens is probably usin’ you niggers ‘cause you’re all so athletic and shit.”
“I’m a software developer.”
“Sure you is. I bet you run like the dickens or some shit.”
The nigger don’t say nothin’. I got his ass trapped. But he’s dangerous. All these bitches are. Maybe they’re all aliens, but all I gots is three more bullets. They know I can’t kill ‘em all but they know they don’t want to be the ones cut down, neither. As long as I got these bullets, I’m fine.
I’m kind of in this dream thing. Nothin’ seems real. I hardly remember doin’ it, but I went into a corner and started holin’ myself up. I pulled the teacher’s desk in, then some little kid’s desks, and then stacked ‘em up so nobody could get at me if I fell asleep like an idiot.
I ain’t done this since Y2K. That shit was some real shit. I mean, it weren’t no real shit in the end, but until then, it was some real shit.
I’m gettin’ tired up in this bitch. Them alien brain powers wear a dude out.
I yell at the white board from my fort. “I ain’t movin’! You bitches gotta come in here and feed me! And I ain’t sleepin’ neither! Let me out or kill me, bitches!”
No answer. Hell, I haven’t heard them in days. Actually, I ain’t gonna hear them again at all. The next morning, I’ll be gone, the gun will be gone, and Dr. Indian Motherfucker will announce at breakfast that I died of sleep deprivation and all the bodies have been removed. Well, how ‘bout that.
III: MELISSA JONES
Ugh, gun to my head, I’ve got it narrowed down to two. I mean, I know it’s not me, but I don’t know for sure which one it is yet. I barely care. We’re all lemmings anyway. I guess Ty Harris is pretty cool. I always thought black guys were cute. I mean, not all black guys because I’m not racist like some people. Like, Ty is pretty cute, though. Otherwise we’ve got that nervous Doc Reynard guy and this crazy Bible beater idiot who keeps telling us to repent, like any of us know or care what that’s really supposed to mean. And he sharpens stakes like we’re going to fight vampires. He’s hilarious, honestly.
Nobody else is really very interesting. My turtle’s interesting, haha. Like he isn’t necessarily my turtle but he was here and I can talk to him and he doesn’t treat me like I’m some stupid kid, and he doesn’t call me fat. Don’t get me wrong, I am totally fat. I just don’t want to hear it. It’s not like I forget that shit, because the skinny girls look at me and the cool guys just come out and tell me. Fuck them. I’ll never see any of them again.
I’m not trying to be fatalist or anything, but I think if I’m in here, they’re probably in those places too, and if we’re already down to eleven people with no idea who’s the fucking alien then we can’t be alone. Maybe they got lucky and the alien passed over their rooms. Or maybe the pretty girls don’t get thrown into these things. Whatever.
This morning I was supposed to help put the desks back in order but I really don’t see the point. Like, if we’re going to move them to sleep, why are we acting like we’re in class the rest of the time? Michael the bible guy thinks we need a sense of like, order and structure. He wants to start a church. He says since we don’t know what day it is we should just worship every day like he does. I think if we don’t know what day it is we might as well never worship because the odds are always six out of seven that it isn’t Sunday.
I spent this morning playing with Morpheus. That’s not what the kids named the turtle, but it’s a lot better than Shelly. He pissed on the floor and Michael got pissed and I reminded Michael that the rest of us are taking shits in buckets all day and waiting until the doctors send someone in for them so it’s hardly worth caring about. I fought with him for a while and then he walked away and I sat here in the corner not caring like always.
Then Ty walked over and sat down. Awesome.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been talking much to you.”
“Oh, it’s fine, I haven’t been thinking about it.”
“Nobody’s been talking to you, and that sucks. I know what it’s like to, um…”
“To be the only one like you. Yeah.”
Ty laughs. “That’s a pragmatic way of saying it, sure.”
“So, like, you make computer games?”
“Not games, unfortunately. I wouldn’t know how. I make financial planning software.”
“Like Quicken? That’s the only one I’ve heard of.”
“Well, that’s the one.”
“Holy shit! You’re, like, rich?”
Ty nods, sadly. I guess money isn’t worth much in here.
“What are we talking about?” Michael’s butting in. God, what a tool. “You know, Mr. Harris is married, Melissa.”
“Like that’s even what I was thinking about.”
“It’s not right, the idea of you together.”
“I’m passing time, Michael,” Ty says. “I’m sick of the paranoia. There’s no benefit to not knowing who you’re with. And with what we’ve seen, we could all use friends.”
“Keep your eye on God, that’s all I ask. He has his eye on you.”
From over in the corner, the tall skinny dude talks for the first time since we got here. “Oh, please. Someone’s watching us, Mike, but it isn’t your retarded God.”
“I must warn you, mocking my -”
“Save your breath, jackass. I am totally sick of your dogmatic bullshit. We have aliens all up in our business and the only ones watching us are two doctors who got shot with the serum so they can’t be hosted by the aliens. We’re not going to be saved, Mike, unless we save ourselves.”
“Your words are hollow and you are filled with the devil’s empty promises. What is your name?”
“Judas.”
OMFG, I love this guy.
“What is your -”
“That’s the only name you’re getting.”
“We’re never going to survive if we -”
“We’re never going to survive, period.”
Michael shut up with that. Hell, I would have. He got totally owned. He went over to his usual spot and sharpened some more stakes for the vampire apocalypse.
I feel good. I’m going to bed feeling like a new woman, not a girl anymore. Ty is cool even if he’s married, and like, really old. I think he’s 34 or something. Judas is super funny. I can get along with these guys. There’s an alien around but I’m convinced he’s out of the room, like one of the two doctors. Remember I had it narrowed down to two? Well, that’s my two. That’s gonna suck when one catches the other.
I awake at two in the morning or something.
“I KNOW IT’S YOU! IT HAS TO BE YOU AND GOD SENT ME TO STOP YOU HEATHEN ALIENS! MAKE YOUR CLICK-CLICK-CLICK NOISE! DO IT! DO IT SO WE ALL KNOW IT’S YOU!”
“GET OFF OF ME, GOD DAMN YOU! YOU KILLED THEM ALL, YOU SICK FUCK!”
I feel cold…must be the pool of blood around me. Oh, shit. I glance around, groggy. Michael’s put a stake through almost all of them. Judas is fighting him off. Ty comes out of his corner and tries to help fight Michael, who’s full of Jesus power or something.
“Are we the only three?” Ty asks Michael, and I try to answer. I can’t. I try to get up and help. I can’t. All at once, the pain of the stake through my neck becomes real, and my world – a world just beginning – goes black.
IV: DOC REYNARD
I feel like a failure. What was I here for, if not to make peace?
The last body – an older woman who never got into the proceedings much – is removed. It’s just me, Ty, Michael and Judas. Michael and Judas have been tied down.
“You still feel it, don’t you?” Judas asks. “The alien. The, uh, evil presence. You killed them all and you didn’t accomplish anything. Do you know how many people have died throughout history for the sake of your fucking baloney God?”
“I had to,” Michael says, trembling. There are tears in his eyes. I want to step in, but I really shouldn’t. “I was trying to do the Lord’s work. I thought I could change things. I thought I could save everyone. Maybe I did. Maybe I saved them all.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ. Sure. You saved them. They wanted these stakes through their hearts. You did them a favor. I fucking hate you religious morons.”
Ty stands by, also unsure of what to say. He looks over at me. Nervously, I check my watch. Ty looks harder at me and motions to them, like I have the magic words.
“How am I supposed to help them? What am I to do?” I ask him, checking my watch again.
“I don’t know, but you’re a doctor. A scientist. You are whatever you are. I can only help them with their 401K. I’m useless here.”
On one hand, I want to say something. On the other, I don’t trust them. Any of them. We’ve been sitting here as part of this experiment for a month and we have no idea where the alien is. Everyone has been threatened – everyone but me, I suppose, and I know it’s not me – and yet we haven’t heard the click-click-click the alien’s supposed to make when threatened.
I check my watch instead.
“Come on, Doc Reynard, stop stalling and come up with something. You’re a doctor. Talk to the ones out there. Chandrekhesar and Rawlings! You gonna answer us for once, or what? Talk to the doc. We’re all sick of dying in here. I have a wife and family. We haven’t found anything. Can we just stop this nonsense?”
“Maybe you’re saying that because you’re the alien,” Michael says.
“Yeah, well I suppose I would, but I’m not.”
I don’t believe him. I don’t believe any of them anymore. The only one I can trust is myself. The aliens are never going to show themselves…they’re just going to keep turning us on one another. We can’t beat them.
I check my watch.
“Fine, Doc, be that way. We’ve lost you, haven’t we?”
“Well, maybe Doc is the alien,” Judas offers. I want to deny it, but I don’t know how. Maybe I am. How can I know? Why would I know? Maybe the host bodies aren’t aware they’ve been taken over. Maybe the soul, or whatever, is still there to some degree and it’s just infecting everyone with paranoia by being present even though I don’t know I’m doing it. I’m the scientist. I should know this.
I have questions.
I check my watch.
Finally, it’s there on the tiny digital screen. “OKAY, REYNARD, WE’LL GET YOU OUT OF THERE. –RAWLINGS”
The guards come in, and they take me out. I feel like a jerk.
“Doc Reynard? Reynard, what is this? Shit, are you one of them? You son of a bitch.”
I don’t even look back to them. I don’t want to see their disappointed faces. I want to tell them I was there to help – to diffuse violence when necessary, and to euthanize when necessary – but it’s too late for apologies. I go through the doors and I join Doctors Chandrekhesar and Rawlings. They’re happy to see me.
But I don’t trust them, either. Not one bit. Maybe it’s them.
V: MICHAEL APATONE
The Lord is my shepherd. Of that I have no doubt in this heart. I believe he will save us with his miraculous power and he will give us the tools to overcome our plight.
But every day, it is a new trial. It is getting harder and harder. There are but three of us here, and we have not been fed or talked to in a full 24 hours.
Judas was already getting sick. I want to help him, but his heart is unclean, and I will not be able to do anything about that until God has cleansed it with his awesome power. Tyrone refuses to untie either of us anyway after all that he has seen here, and since I was responsible for a great deal of it, I cannot find it within myself to blame him. For a few days he fed us himself, until the food stopped coming. The guards were taking care of our clothes, but now Judas and I are messing ourselves and there is nothing we can do about the indignity.
I must admit, in my heart of hearts, that I do not believe Tyrone nor Judas to be inhabited by an alien. I know that one of them must be, but I have decided since the incident that I must be more trusting of people if I am ever to be accepted by God again.
Another day has gone by and we are all hungrier. Nobody says much of anything, even Judas, who has been cutting awful jokes until today. He’s very sick. I do not believe he is long for this world. I want to beg him, to demand, even, that he accepts Jesus Christ as his savior. However, if he is indeed the alien, I do not want to share this secret and have my spot in Heaven taken by one of them. They are not God’s chosen people, and they will never be.
I know this is not very Christian of me. I am losing my soul.
One more day goes by. Judas is dead. Tyrone asked me offhand what we were going to eat. I hope he didn’t mean what I think he meant. He said he’d rather hack the security on the door that keeps us in here, but the Creeping Doubt has put his mind in a constant fog.
Another day. Tyrone has eaten. Tyrone is the alien. No man could make such an awful decision. He offers me the meat, but I am unable to eat what I believe to be tainted meat. I am hungry, though. So, so hungry. Tyrone throws his hands around my neck, frightening me, trying to get me to make the click-click-click sound to find out if I am the alien. I disappoint him. I disappoint myself, honestly. If I’d been the alien he’d release me from this prison.
I don’t know how I held on this long. I suppose it’s because I have fed my soul in lieu of feeding my stomach. I don’t know where the alien is. Maybe this is all a test. Maybe it is all a dream. Maybe there is no alien at all and this is the end times. I hope so. I want to see Jesus, here on this world, and I want to tell him I am so sorry for what I have done.
This morning, I made Tyrone promise not to eat me. He did. I do not believe him. It’s alright. My soul will be fine.
I am hungry. So hungry. And tired.
VI: TYRONE HARRIS
There is nothing left to eat, and I have been alone here for weeks. Through the windows, I can still see that life goes on for some. Not all, but some. Before he disappeared, Dr. Chandrekhesar said that many of the tests were closed down since the aliens didn’t show up. In other words, we were just lucky.
I spend the time thinking of smartass comments I’ll make to my wife if I ever see her again. “It was still better than writing code,” I’ll say. That’s about the best I can muster right now.
What pisses me off the most is that I survived all of this – everyone’s dead – and I still feel the paranoia. Like, there’s someone in the next room who’s infected and we’ve never seen him. I shouldn’t feel the Creeping Doubt anymore, but it’s still here. Maybe that’s a product of my situation…I’ll never get rid of the feeling again. It’s my shell-shock.
Not that I’ll be surviving this. There’s nobody here and I’m out of food. Morpheus looks mighty tasty, though. Can I eat his food? Stupid turtle will outlive us all because we were left with a big bottle of his food. Smells like dogshit, but honestly? I might actually eat dogshit right now.
On the other hand, I could just eat the turtle.
I’m delirious. Days and nights alike have become a fog. The Creeping Doubt has consumed me almost completely. I write my last will and testament, finally aware that I’m not coming back from this.
I wake up, barely. I have no strength. I crawl over to Morpheus, intending to feed him. I shake the bottle of his food. It’s gone.
You know what? One of us is gonna eat today, and Morpheus is out of food. Poor guy.
I open the aquarium and reach for him. Maybe he knows what’s on my mind, because he’s shy all of a sudden. I catch him and grasp him between my fingers. The little bastard is fighting me. I say a quick word of apology for the class that kept Morpheus as a pet, and without the strength to fight him anymore, I open my mouth and bring Morpheus up to it, headfirst.
Click-click-click.
I hurl Morpheus against the wall, and he splatters everywhere. He’s full of the same blue jelly shit that the aliens used to replace their human hosts with.
My brain comes back. Hot damn, did I miss that. I’m hungry as hell but the Creeping Doubt is gone and I can think like my old damned self.
I go to the door. Within an hour, I’ve got the thing hacked. I exit and hold my head high.
Time to hunt some motherfuckin’ turtles.
53 comments
Comments feed for this article
June 6, 2011 at 6:27 pm
mbnovak
Well there goes my story. Nah, seriously, much enjoyed. I give it a 3. Remember, a 3 is good. 😉
June 7, 2011 at 2:57 pm
daneekasghost
<p style=”padding-left: 30px;”>INDENTED TEXT</p>
Or, if you use the visual editor, there’s a button that is labeled “indent”.
June 7, 2011 at 2:58 pm
daneekasghost
Dammit, there was supposed to be a picture of the button there.
The button
June 7, 2011 at 5:34 pm
daneekasghost
I like this. This is kind of the concept that fits the challenge pretty well, I did figure out the turtle thing a bit earlier than the reveal. It was a moment of “Wait, why is there a turtle? … Ah, I think I see where this is going.” Perhaps it just stuck out as a bit of extra information that gave away there was something more to it.
It’s a good solid premise, and the characters are well written. I enjoyed it.
Of course, I’ve got to try to top it by Sunday, before spooky declares himself champion, but I’ve got time, no reason to start writing yet.
June 7, 2011 at 5:42 pm
spookymilk
My biggest worry was that the turtle was obvious, because he really doesn’t have much other reason to be there.
Initially, all the prisoners were going to die, and the final chapter was going to be from Morpheus’s perspective, as he transmitted his victory to the other aliens and suggested that turtles would take the human race by surprise. Ty was going to die at the hands of Ferd, but I couldn’t do it, and at the end he was still there, and suddenly I needed him to make it through and go for the silly action movie ending. It’s cheese, I know, but it was fun as hell to write.
Plus, it’s nice to see the brother survive for once, even if I had to write the thing to see it happen.
June 7, 2011 at 6:54 pm
daneekasghost
Would it make a difference if the internees discovered the turtle, instead of it just being a part that the author includes as a given fact?
Obviously, you wouldn’t want to make too big of a deal about it, but if it’s part of their discovery of the setting, maybe it would make it less conspicuous…
I don’t know, just a thought.
June 7, 2011 at 7:09 pm
spookymilk
That’s how I wanted the information to come out and even as I wrote it I was like, “Meh, I’ll change it later.” Then I had to put this out there the day I wrote it, so I wouldn’t obsess over it all week rather than work on my screenplay. Que sera sera.
June 7, 2011 at 8:49 pm
mbnovak
I’ll be honest, I didn’t figure out the turtle until way late. But I was ticked at myself for not figuring it out. Also, I was distracted at the time by… something. Yeah, that’s it.
June 7, 2011 at 9:08 pm
spookymilk
Well, hey, I won’t throw stones. That’s what I was hoping for.
As for what may have been distracting you, for me it’s either beer, boobs or baseball most of the time.
June 7, 2011 at 10:16 pm
mbnovak
I wish it had been any of those things. I’m pretty sure it was my kid wiping boogers on my recently dry-cleaned suit.
June 8, 2011 at 6:47 am
spookymilk
Ah, those days. Fortunately, my youngest is finally old enough to be past wiping her nose on me.
June 8, 2011 at 7:42 am
nibbish
“Fanatical preacher who ends up being almost as bad as the monster” is a pretty tired trope, no?
June 8, 2011 at 7:55 am
nibbish
That sounded a little bitchy and harsh. I like this (probably a ‘3’ on the Netflix scale), I’ve just had an “interesting” day, and I tossed off the above comment without putting much thought into it while on the phone with tech support.
June 8, 2011 at 8:03 am
spookymilk
Is he as bad as the monster?
Part of what I was doing here is creating archetypes, and suggesting – unsuccessfully, it would seem – that the worst and basest aspects of people are magnified by the alien’s presence.
June 8, 2011 at 8:17 am
nibbish
And a second readthrough made me realize that i hadn’t read the first section quite as thoroughly as i maybe should have. ‘Evil priest’ is still a weak trope, but here it’s sort of justified.
June 8, 2011 at 8:18 am
nibbish
‘Priest’ being ‘Preacher’. God, I’m batting 1.000 today..
June 8, 2011 at 8:22 am
spookymilk
I’m really not sure I see him as “evil,” just…very misguided, and affected.
In a perfect world, I’d take way more time with it, introducing more of the characters earlier so as to see the arc of each person a little more, because I can see it in my head in a way that doesn’t appear on the page. Plus, the first section is extremely dry. I needed to know all that backstory, but it should be done in a more fluid way; I’d rather have the reader learn about the characters and the situation at the same time.
This, for me, was a first draft. I wasn’t going to post it, but a couple of players bugged me to do so, and I decided I probably should so I didn’t spend all week ignoring my screenplay. Now I really want to fix this anyway, though.
June 8, 2011 at 8:31 am
nibbish
That’s where a lot of this type of thing gets hung up, because exposition is so necessary for this type of thing, how are we supposed to know the ‘rules’ (aliens magnify the darker tendencies in people) if we don’t get told as such.
There were at least 4 or 5 times this season where I had an awesome concept that got so dragged down by the opening talking about the rules for the world I was creating that it just wasn’t fun at all to read. It seems to be getting easier the more I’ve been playing, though. Just a side benefit of Spookymilk Survivor, I suppose.
I suppose I need to write one of these. I’ll have plenty of time on Friday, I think.
June 8, 2011 at 8:37 am
spookymilk
That’s one of the reasons I want to play the game…I want to be able to get more with less. I’ve seen okay writers become good at it, and good writers became great at it by playing this game over the course of a couple of seasons. Comparing guys like Dean and Brooks (and you) now to what y’all were doing when you started playing Survivor VI will show a pretty clear upward trajectory conceptually and stylistically.
June 8, 2011 at 9:18 am
mbnovak
I think the exposition element is a big roadblock in this challenge. Because you have to keep starting over with each narrator it’s a lot tougher to show and not tell. Telling gets you the narrator’s voice, helps you make them more distinct, but makes the story less compelling. And the multiple perspective thing tends to lend itself to first person, which just further exacerbates the show vs. tell problem (am I right on that? Do others feel this is always a problem for first person perspective?)
Plus, it’s just really hard to do 6 perspectives and have something new for each of them.
I guess what I’m saying is that I’m struggling this week.
June 8, 2011 at 9:26 am
spookymilk
I totally agree with all of this, particularly the fact that exposition is seemingly necessary in all six sections.
Hopefully, you guys can see where my first draft failed and use that knowledge to avoid it. Or maybe it’s just really, really hard to avoid…
June 8, 2011 at 9:30 am
daneekasghost
I guess what I’m saying is that I’m struggling this week.
Mwa-Ha!
June 8, 2011 at 10:15 am
mbnovak
Also, I’m crazy busy, so the only time I’ve been able to give it has been late at night, when I’m exhausted. And my weekend is pretty much shot, so I need to get it done ASAP if I’m ever going to do a rewrite. Ugh.
Of course, this’ll just make it so much sweeter when I win! Mwa-ha right back at you!
June 8, 2011 at 11:39 am
daneekasghost
Nobody Mwa-Ha’s the Mwa-Ha-er!
/What?
June 8, 2011 at 11:41 am
spookymilk
Well, technically you picked up “Mwa-Ha!” from me, so Matt’s fine here, yeah?
/pedantry
June 8, 2011 at 12:05 pm
daneekasghost
So I have no recourse here? Can I call for a Mwa-Ha-off or something?
June 8, 2011 at 12:11 pm
spookymilk
I can’t stop laughing at “Mwa-ha-off,” so for the moment I don’t have the strength to fight.
Maybe this was your plan all along…
June 19, 2011 at 10:08 pm
adobery
This mwa-ha exchange one of funniest in the comments section all season long.
June 8, 2011 at 8:39 am
nibbish
Which reminds me, why am I not on the “Confirmed For Next Time” list? This needs to happen.
June 8, 2011 at 8:42 am
spookymilk
Consider it done.
June 10, 2011 at 11:30 am
mbnovak
So I wrote my story. Then I read it. It sucked balls. Elephantiasis-riddled balls.
I have a lot of work to do. But my sister’s grad party tonight and my godson’s birthday tomorrow. Frick.
June 10, 2011 at 11:34 am
spookymilk
It’s been nice to know them, Matt.
June 10, 2011 at 11:46 am
mybiggirlshoes
I have a blank screen in front of me right now, Matt. Don’t feel bad.
June 10, 2011 at 1:21 pm
mbnovak
I may have just had a breakthrough. Also, Shawn, you’ve said that before and then totally wiped the floor with our asses. 😉
June 10, 2011 at 2:33 pm
daneekasghost
Oh man, you guys. My idea is so awesome! I just finished up my 8th draft, I really think it’s coming together now. For a while I was struggling with bringing out the latent symbolism of my character’s struggle against their internal demons, but I think I’ve nailed it.
/yep, blank screen for me too
June 10, 2011 at 3:06 pm
spookymilk
It would be SO like Survivor VIII if we ended up with three non-submitters.
June 10, 2011 at 8:12 pm
mbnovak
Dammit man, it’s your challenge! You’re supposed to put us to shame.
Also, my wife just read one sixth of my story, made a face and said “yeah, it’s rough.” Crud.
June 10, 2011 at 8:15 pm
spookymilk
So, she’s all about the tough love, then.
You can use that for motivation, or you can, you know, let it crush your will to live. I choose the former!
June 10, 2011 at 9:01 pm
mbnovak
She chooses the later.
June 10, 2011 at 9:13 pm
spookymilk
That’s a drag, man.
June 10, 2011 at 9:18 pm
mbnovak
It’s cool. She’s hot.
June 10, 2011 at 9:27 pm
spookymilk
That’s always an acceptable explanation. You should hear the crap I put up with for the sake of my gorgeous ex Jennifer. Oh, the self-loathing I had to endure for that awesome naked body…
June 10, 2011 at 9:35 pm
mbnovak
I should probably stop ragging on my wife.
She might read this and then lock me in the basement again.
June 11, 2011 at 11:30 am
mybiggirlshoes
Brooks, you’re always amazing! You’ll do well. 🙂
June 10, 2011 at 7:53 pm
dearsmitty
I just wrote a “For the Hell of it” piece. It’s absolutely awesome! I would totally have won this thing!! Here, let me….Damn.
June 19, 2011 at 10:06 pm
adobery
Just got around to reading this. I really liked it. I’d say “sadly I did not figure out the turtle part until it was only Ty left” (which is true), but I don’t care about that. I like to just read/watch things without always trying to figure it out. Just enjoy the ride. Maybe that’s just my lame cover for not being real bright, but it works for me. I don’t think the turtle stuck out like a sore thumb. The setting wasn’t unnatural for it and there are reasons the doctors could have left it in there other than overlooking it. Though I guess it’s a little strange that they locked up 15 looking for an alien, and one just happens to be in the room they chose to lock them up in. But that’s why this story was told, and not the story about the other room somewhere that also had 15 people and no alien, or maybe 10 aliens. Also, why did they decide to lock them up in an elementary classroom and convert it into an inescapable place instead of using some ready to go high security facility the government must have?
Anyway, I liked it a lot. I may have picked it over Brooks.
June 20, 2011 at 8:07 am
spookymilk
Thanks for the shout out, Ryan. The idea on the part of the scientists was to bring the people to a place to congregate without feeling like they were being tricked, so that’s why it’s a classroom. The alien wasn’t always there; the groups of this size are meant to lure aliens to the scene. I meant to add that people have avoided hanging in groups of more than six or seven for long because that attracts aliens, but now I can’t remember ever writing those words, so…whoops.
June 20, 2011 at 11:17 am
adobery
Ok, going back now I see the bit about being lured there under another pretense, as well as the part about waiting to be infected. Oops. Forgot that right after I read it I guess. Alien being in turtle even less forced with that bit of information.
Guess the turtle was left in intentionally by scientists too see if aliens took that route. Otherwise, why bother giving them food for it. They surely didn’t care about their test subjects enough to worry about them having a pet to keep them happy. Otherwise it would have had to have been a request by Melissa. Maybe another character mentioning Melissa requesting food for the damn turtle, but I think you would need a couple other typical classroom pets in there that already had a stash of food to feed them with. Even adding that, probably drawing too much attention to it, and what state is earth in that the scientists would have taken over an unused elementary classroom with an appropriate amount of time passing, yet not so much that the turtle wouldn’t have died already.
Babble, babble, babble. Sorry.
June 20, 2011 at 11:20 am
spookymilk
Babble away. There’s a lot to deconstruct in a story with a hypothetical universe.
So much of the story (and my stories in general) wasn’t planned beforehand; it happened as I wrote it. I tend to barf out first drafts in no time at all, and then spend a ton of time getting them right. In this case, I just barfed and posted. While I’m proud of the concept and some of the characters, there’s a lot I would have fixed if I had planned on doing fixes for this one, and certainly some things that would be foreshadowed better.
June 20, 2011 at 11:33 am
adobery
IF you had planned to fix??? C’mon! This is begging to be turned into a Syfy classic. Just need a hack actress and a couple close ups of the turtle with your camera phone and you’re set for special effects!
Sorry, that was low. This concept rocked and would never deserve the Syfy treatment.
June 20, 2011 at 11:36 am
spookymilk
I took it as more of a dig at Syfy (ugh, that spelling) than a dig on my story’s possibilities.
January 3, 2012 at 10:36 am
The Creeping Doubt « Casa de Leche
[…] months ago, I attempted Brooks’s Dirty Harry Challenge, the one where a different character is the focus of every chapter, but they can’t be used or […]
February 28, 2013 at 9:59 pm
All-Stars: Elimination Fourteen, Challenge Fifteen: Dirty Harry | Casa de Leche
[…] Mine Survivor VIII Finalists […]