Friday 28 October 2011

A Wuthering Heights Intervention

Here is my story based on the story Wuthering Heights, it's not finished quite yet but I am pleased with the progress; even my lecturer was!


Jack was feeling lucky tonight. He was going to drive Anna up to the moors for a little alone time. From up there you could see all the stars and chicks really digged that sort of thing. Plus, it would mean that Anna’s parents wouldn’t be there to interrupt them like they usually did. This time Jack might actually get some action to brag about.

As they drove up the narrow country lanes Anna would not stop talking. Girly crap, gossip; something about who’s shagging who. Whatever, it was fine with Jack as long as she shut up when the time came down to it. Jack didn’t particularly like driving up to the moors at night; the roads gave him the creeps. The trees made weird shadows in the headlights and it always seemed like there was something lurking around every corner. Not that Jack would ever admit this. Plus, you never knew what was suddenly going to jump out in front of you. Rabbits were the most stupid, and Jack knew if he hit a rabbit Anna would never put out. 

Luckily, they made it up to the moors with no surprise bunny attacks. Unluckily, someone else was already parked in his usual spot. Clearly he wasn’t the only one planning to score tonight. 

‘Are you nearly there yet, Hun?’ 

‘Yeah sure, just gotta find the best stargazing spot for my baby. You wanna see shooting stars, right?’

Jack felt pretty pleased with himself when Anna squealed with delight; this was just going to be too easy. Annoying that they had to drive further onto the moors though, his car was definitely going to get roughed up. 

He drove for about five minutes and he heard many things scrape along the bottom of his car, he was pretty sure something had even been knocked off. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to stop now. 

‘Okay, we’re here. The best place on the moors to see stars. Just for you, Baby.’ 

‘Let’s go sit on the bonnet; we’ll see them better from there!’ Jack didn’t want anyone denting the front of his car. 

‘How ‘bout we just stay in here, just for a while.’

Anna’s blush said it all. Finally, Jack got lucky.

*

Anna drew in the condensation on her window, and Jack knew that those silly marks would stay on his window forever. 

‘Hey, have you heard about the ghosts that haunt around here?’ He said to distract her.

‘Ghosts?’

‘Yeah, two of them. They lived on the moors, not far from here, actually. It’s said that they were once in love, but they couldn’t be together. Then one day the woman died and the man went crazy roaming the moors looking for her soul. It’s said that they’re still here to this very day. Roaming the moors, looking for other couples to tear apart and leave to wander the moors for all of eternity.’

‘That’s a bit Wuthering Heights, isn’t it?’

Jack didn’t really know what that was, but he didn’t want Anna to know that.

‘Whatever, it is true.’

‘Oh, yeah right.’

‘It is. Maybe you should move closer, you know, for protection.’

Anna rolled her eyes and continued to draw in the condensation. Jack glared at her; girls are clearly only good for one thing. Jack turned to his own window.

There was a flicker of white.

‘What was that?’

‘Oh come on, that’s not gonna work on me. That ghost story was crap anyway.’ Anna scoffed.

‘No, I’m serious; I saw something move out there.’

‘It was probably just your reflection.’

Jack ignored her and instead flicked on the headlights. The lights created shadows across the rough landscape of the moors. The shadows made Jack feel worse.

‘Look, Hun, there’s no such thing as ghosts. How about looking at the stars now? I can take your mind off it?’ Anna ran her hand up Jack’s thigh. Jack pushed her away.

‘Let me just take a look outside first.’

Anna huffed and turned back to her window. It was impossible to see through the condensation. He pulled up his sleeve and wiped it down over his window. Right outside was a woman’s face.

Jack screamed and struggled to get back.

‘Oh God, oh God! It’s the woman, the ghost of the woman!’

‘Seriously, it’s not going to work, Jack.’

Jack turned to face Anna. She seemed kinda pissed off. He looked behind her. Looked out the window.

‘Anna! It’s the man! Behind you!’

Anna turned, but it was too late. The glass window smashed and ghostly white arms reached in and pulled her struggling body out.

‘Jack! Jack! JACK!’

It all happened in seconds. Jack sat frozen in his seat. The moors wind which was howling through the now open window blew away Anna’s screams. Shaking he turned to face his own window. There was nothing there. Suddenly, the front window smashed and the ghostly woman leapt at his throat. The hands were like ice. She pulled and pulled at him but he wouldn’t budge. The woman gave a hideous scream and smacked him across the face. She fled into the darkness. Her outraged screams mixed with the wind.

Jack sagged in his seat. For once in his life he has listened to the law and worn his seatbelt; and it had saved his life. But,

‘Anna…’ 

Friday 21 October 2011

My Gothic Monster

The writing task for Textual Intervention this week was to create a Gothic monster based on the uncanny.

Some features of the uncanny are:
Deja Vu
Doppelgänger
The Familiar becoming the unfamiliar
An animal that behaves human
Things that come to life
Coming across the same number or date
Wishing something happens and then it does
When you think of someone that you haven't thought of for years and then they turn up in your life again
Someone with the devil eye
The undead and zombies or limbs still moving

My piece is based on the idea of a doppelgänger. However, my version can only take the form of a person for 24 hours. To stay as that form forever they have to 'absorb' the person within those 24 hours. So, once you see yourself you will be followed until your doppelgänger can get close enough to you to be able to 'absorb' you. Once they are you they will cause untold chaos in your life, destroying anything they can and making misery.

Gothic Monster 


Staring out of the window I can’t wait for this class to be over already. The teacher is droning on non-stop. It’s only five minutes until the end of school; he might as well let us go early, no one is paying attention, anyway. I can see some of the other kids leaving across the playground, a mess of untucked shirts and undone ties. A guy in my class cracks a joke and the teacher, unimpressed, makes us all stay for another half an hour. A cruel and unfair punishment. The bell goes and school is over officially now. I watch the rest of the kids leave school and head home. They are so lucky. It’s nearly four, our punishment is nearly over. I had been paying attention for the last twenty minutes but a shiver was creeping up my spine and I felt eyes on me. I looked around the class. Everyone else was either watching the teacher, whispering to their friends, or staring off absently. No one was looking at me. Unconsciously, my head turned towards the window once more. The playground was now empty and still. Yet, a flicker in the shade of the trees caught my attention. Out of the shadows stepped a boy; his head was bowed and he walked slowly until he was stood in the centre of the playground. He seems familiar, especially his hair. But who is he? Without warning his head snaps up and he’s staring directly at me. His eyes catch mine like lightning and a shock goes through my entire body. It’s a hundred yards across the playground and I’m on the third floor yet I know the boy is looking right into my eyes. But his eyes are my eyes. We have the same eyes. The same nose. The same lips. Same hair. Same body. Same everything. He is me. 

That’s me!

Accidently, I screamed the last bit out loud. Now everyone is staring at me as if I’m crazy, the teacher included. When I look back to the window and the playground the boy, me? Is gone. I hope I am crazy. A chill settles on my body and I don’t even care that the teacher just gave me detention for a week. 

Walking home I wish I was back at school. There were people there; here I am alone. The streets are deserted and yet I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me. At every step I glance around. Still no one here. Another step and another glance. Still nothing. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I had imagined it. Of course I had. My mind had been bored in class, maybe I had fallen asleep, daydreamed? Another glance, just in case. Still nothing. I’m just being stupid now.

I haven’t seen a car the whole way home but I still check both ways before crossing the street. Just as I am about to step onto the road I get the creepy feeling again. I look up. He’s there. I’m there. Across the road is me. Him. It. It looks identical to me and yet there is something about him. A dark decay that seeps from his body. He doesn’t blink, just stares. I take a step back just as he takes a step forward. His shadow seems to stretch away from him and after me. I stumble further back and as he steps forward WOOSH! A car hurtles by, not even slowing down. I see me hit the bonnet, crash against the windscreen, fly over the top and hit the ground with a sickening crack. But when I blink it’s as if nothing happened. The car speeds off. There is no body. 

Just me. On my own. But I know there is someone watching me.

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Thursday 20 October 2011

Kafka VS Hemmingway

For my Short Story module we are looking at the writing styles of Franz Kafka and Ernest Hemmingway. For one task we had to write two short pieces with one writen in a Kafkaesque style and the other in a Hemmingwayesque style. We were given the staring sentences of:


By the way, Jurgen’s lips are never sealed because they always have a giant spliff in between them.

And:

His teenage years had been tranquillised into a one season pharmaceutical mist.  
Here are my two pieces.


Kafkaesque

By the way, Jurgen’s lips are never sealed because they always have a giant spliff in between them. Bulbous and juicy they suck continuously. Always seen through the parting gap are yellowing squares of bone. Awkward and jagged they circle his tongue; that thick pink muscle that laps at their sides. Spliffs endlessly enter and then leave again, leaving behind them that gastric smell. The smoke lingers for minutes, hours, days. Putrid and acidic. It seeps from the gap. Oozes. Streams. If he’d only close his mouth, seal it in. But then, that’s Jurgen for you; his lips will never be sealed, because he always has a giant spliff between them. 



Hemmingwayesque

His teenage years had been tranquillised into a one season pharmaceutical mist.  Joe first started doing drugs when he was 15. He was in a Home. He was sat in his room when another boy came in. His name was Jack. He closed the door behind him.

‘Hey, don’t tell the Keepers, but do you want some?’ Jack said.

He pulled out some weed. Joe did not answer straight away and Jack started to smoke. The smoke began to fill the room and Joe opened his window. This time when Jack offered him the weed Joe did not refuse.

Hours passed and they had run out of weed. Jack lay on Joe’s bed while Joe sat on the floor.

‘You know, it helps a lot.’

‘With what?’

‘The rejection.’

They sat in silence then.

‘Can you get more?’ Joe asked.

‘If you want it.’

‘I do.’

Sitting there Joe knew that drugs were not really the right answer but Jack was sure, so he was sure, too. 

Sunday 9 October 2011

My Gothic Character

As part of my Textual Intervention module we are discussing the Gothic genre. This weeks task was to create our own Gothic character. My character was Edmund from the story Delrium . We then had to write a passage on them. I wrote mine from his wife's, Caroline, point of view, and obviously this story is set before Delirium, as Edmund is still alive.

Gothic Character Piece

Full moon and Caroline knew it was that time again. The curtains were shut but she knew that it was there; mocking her, torturing him. Edmund slept besides her. He usually looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, but wait, now she could see his fingers twitching and his eye lids flickering. Soon he would be awake. Caroline gently slipped out of bed so as not to disturb him up any sooner. She sat in the armchair across from their bed; she would be safe here. A minute ticked by, then another and another. Maybe it would be alright tonight; maybe he would sleep all the way through. Maybe. Caroline felt her eyes drooping as she waited for his nightmares. Lower and lower. Heavier and heavier. She slumped against the armchair, asleep. 


‘No! Don’t! It wasn’t me!’


Caroline shot up in the chair, awake. Edmund was sat up in bed, eyes wide open and yet blind. Sweat darkened his nightshirt and his hair was slick against his forehead. His eyes snapped to the corner of the room, inches from where Caroline sat. His hands shook furiously in his lap and his lips mouthed wordlessly in fear. Caroline turned to the corner, but nothing was there. It was impossible. 


‘Leave me alone!’ Edmund suddenly broke out. ‘I didn’t kill you!’


Caroline squeezed her eyes shut and begged for this stop, when she heard a new voice.


‘Yes, Edmund. You did.’

Friday 7 October 2011

I was Nachos.

In my Short Story module we had to do a piece of writing based on Franz Kafka's 'The Bridge'. It's an incredibly short short story about, you guessed it, a bridge. Here is how the first line goes:

I was stiff and cold, I was a bridge.

So, for our task we had to take two adjectives and a noun and makes our own version, it didn't have to be a complete short story like Kafka's and mine is not completely finished yet. Though, here was my first sentence:

I was hot and anxious, I was Nachos.

Weird, huh? The adjectives and nouns were just words that described the past 24 hours in our life. But, here's how the rest of it goes...


I was hot and anxious, I was Nachos. That’s right, I am Nachos; the big one, the hard one, the crunchy one. The Starter to end all Starters.  You don’t want to mess with me. And it’s not just me, either. I’ve got my mates, too. There’s Jalapeño, now he’ll rough you up. He’ll get you hot and bothered, for sure. You might think he’s not too bad, he’s not that bigger hot shot as everyone makes out, but you’d be wrong. Your eyes will be watering after a meeting with him.

But don’t forget Cheese. You’ll have to go through him before you can get anywhere near me; and believe me that can be tough. I know I can trust him; he’s been my mate since I can remember and he’s stuck by me through thick and thin. I know he's strong but some of the gang sometimes think he's not mature enough for job. They're wrong. 

Guacamole and Sour Cream, they’re the brains of the operation. Without them I would be stuck in some pretty awkward situations. They may not look like much, and at first I thought they were pretty ridiculous; pale and green almost sickly, no way would they survive our gang. But they’re a pretty tasty pair, those two.
 
My favourite by far is Salsa. She’s my girl and nobody else’s. I know I’m my best when I’m with her. She completes me. She suits me perfectly. She’s hot, boy, is she hot! Just being near her makes me sweat all over. She’s fiery as well. You never mess with Salsa; she’s got quite the temper. Many times we have fought and I don’t think I have ever won. Salsa is the only one I’m scared of.

Though, now things have changed. I don’t feel so cocky, so tough. As a group we have taken down all types of Starters before: Bread and Pate were so old fashioned they didn’t even know how to fight. Soup, ha! that was easy; and salad fell soon after and just as quickly. Garlic Bread just couldn’t handle Cheese. Caviar, well, let’s just say he’s sleeping with the fishes now.

But, word on the street is there’s a new Starter. This new group, in front of them I’m just crumbs. They call themselves the Platter. Breadstick, Onion Ring, Chicken Strip, BBQ Chicken Wing, Potato Skin, Ciabata Bread, Celery Stick, and from what I hear and range of Dips and Sauces. I mean, I know we’re good, but there is no way we could stand up against that! There are rumours that Platter can defeat a whole family in one sitting. That after a meeting with Platter they can never eat again!

What do you think? How should I finish it?