Ink Knight
If there's ladies loving ladies I'm there
So I figured I should make this thread so I have a place to toss my random crap as it comes to me. Who knows, maybe having a place to put it will help me finish something.
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Ink's Aimless Writing
- Thread starter Ink Knight
- Start date
Ink Knight
If there's ladies loving ladies I'm there
This is a weird dystopian original piece I wrote about a month ago in a haze of three Rise Against albums and a chilly afternoon. It's in second-person, which I never write in usually.
You remember things that other people don’t. Like the day someone blew up City Hall, and the very next morning it was like it had never happened. No one else recalled it, despite the rubble and the ‘Under Construction’ signs where it used to stand. A few spoke of watching the wrecking ball take out the old stone building, excited to see what they built in its place. But no one else remembered the smoke and dust and red-orange flames reaching for the sky.
It was like the event was erased completely. Things like that happened all the time, but no one ever remembered. And the times you made the mistake of speaking up, of questioning it, you were sent to the school therapist who told you it was just a dream and prescribed pills that left you in a fog for days and made those memories fade into fuzzy dream-like recollections. You don’t bring it up to other people anymore.
Then there was the girl. You didn’t see her often, only when you were running late for curfew usually. She had dark hair and fierce eyes, and when she saw you looking at her she flashed you a crooked grin before disappearing into the shadows. She wasn’t always alone either, sometimes accompanied by another girl or a couple of boys. All of them young and all of them with the same wild eyes and crooked smiles, something bright and sharp about them that you’d never seen on anyone else. You saw them most often before something happened, before something blew up or broke down and everyone forgot about it.
So you started to put the pieces together, realizing they caused the events no one ever remembered. That was when you started to break the rules, curiosity driving you to sneak out after curfew in hopes of seeing them. It was hit and miss, but the girl started taking notice when you kept showing up in their path long after curfew. She frowned at you as she passed, fierce eyes thoughtful.
But you always rushed home afterward, afraid of some consequence you’d never actually seen enacted. No one broke curfew after all, so you’d never seen what happened when they did. Except apparently people did, people who were good at not getting caught. Good enough that you never realized you were being followed, that the alarms didn’t go off when you found the girl in your room one night.
She frowned at the posters on your wall, the comforter bunched against the wall on your bed, the cluttered desk in the corner with its’ sleeping computer. But she frowned even more at you, arms crossed over her chest and head tilted to one side like she couldn’t quite figure out what to make of you. You were too startled to do anything but close your door, something inside you warning that she couldn’t be found here. That it would be bad for both of you.
“You remember me.” She said bluntly, fierce-wild eyes focused on your face. "When you see us, you remember.“
You nod, swallowing nervously under her scrutiny. She walked over to you, each step made with purpose, and pushed your hair back to look behind your ear. Her fingers, strong and calloused and warmer than any touch you’d ever felt, ran over the faint scar from your implant. The same implant everyone had, to promote peace and understanding. She seemed even more confused when she stepped away, like she’d been expecting something different.
"Who are you?” You finally ask, fighting back the way her steady gaze made you feel like running. Like a rabbit under the eyes of a hawk. She gave you a mysterious smile and shook her head.
“Just a shadow.” And then she was gone, out the window and into the night to leave you dazed and even more confused than ever in her wake.
By morning you were sure it was just a dream. Until you saw the sooty black dust left where she’d been standing. The same kind of dust that accompanied the explosion of City Hall and others like it. That pretty much proved your theory that the girl and her companions were the ones causing these things.
But you didn’t know why they did it. Or why no one ever remembered. So the next night you gathered your courage and went out to look for the girl again, walking from the comfortable roads you’d followed all your life onto streets you didn’t know existed. Streets where the windows on buildings were boarded up and harsh words were painted on the walls. Where there were no carefully tended flowers or trees to brighten the atmosphere. Where everything was sharp like the girl, where it all felt strangely more real than anything else.
“I told you she was different.” The girl’s voice rang from one of the broken windows and you spun to face her, watching her step through the shattered glass onto the street. Other’s followed, slipping from shadows and alleyways to surround you. They moved together, a group that was more like a single entity than many. And yet they were all individual as well, bright and independent while also be a part of a whole. The girl smiled at you and that was the last thing you saw before there was a sharp pain on the back of your head and everything went dark.
When you woke your head ached, and the spot behind your ear where your implant had been hurt more than the rest. Reaching up to rub it you found a bandage there and a bump on the back of your head. A small sound had you looking around to see the girl sitting on a chair a few feet away and you took a moment to study your surroundings. There was the cot you were laying on, shoved into the corner of a small room with cabinets full of medical supplies and a small table with a couple of chairs where the girl was sitting. Looking back at her you realized she was watching and you sat up.
“Where am I?” She gave you that crooked smile, sharp and fierce and bright enough that you thought it could burn you.
“Welcome to the shadows.”
You remember things that other people don’t. Like the day someone blew up City Hall, and the very next morning it was like it had never happened. No one else recalled it, despite the rubble and the ‘Under Construction’ signs where it used to stand. A few spoke of watching the wrecking ball take out the old stone building, excited to see what they built in its place. But no one else remembered the smoke and dust and red-orange flames reaching for the sky.
It was like the event was erased completely. Things like that happened all the time, but no one ever remembered. And the times you made the mistake of speaking up, of questioning it, you were sent to the school therapist who told you it was just a dream and prescribed pills that left you in a fog for days and made those memories fade into fuzzy dream-like recollections. You don’t bring it up to other people anymore.
Then there was the girl. You didn’t see her often, only when you were running late for curfew usually. She had dark hair and fierce eyes, and when she saw you looking at her she flashed you a crooked grin before disappearing into the shadows. She wasn’t always alone either, sometimes accompanied by another girl or a couple of boys. All of them young and all of them with the same wild eyes and crooked smiles, something bright and sharp about them that you’d never seen on anyone else. You saw them most often before something happened, before something blew up or broke down and everyone forgot about it.
So you started to put the pieces together, realizing they caused the events no one ever remembered. That was when you started to break the rules, curiosity driving you to sneak out after curfew in hopes of seeing them. It was hit and miss, but the girl started taking notice when you kept showing up in their path long after curfew. She frowned at you as she passed, fierce eyes thoughtful.
But you always rushed home afterward, afraid of some consequence you’d never actually seen enacted. No one broke curfew after all, so you’d never seen what happened when they did. Except apparently people did, people who were good at not getting caught. Good enough that you never realized you were being followed, that the alarms didn’t go off when you found the girl in your room one night.
She frowned at the posters on your wall, the comforter bunched against the wall on your bed, the cluttered desk in the corner with its’ sleeping computer. But she frowned even more at you, arms crossed over her chest and head tilted to one side like she couldn’t quite figure out what to make of you. You were too startled to do anything but close your door, something inside you warning that she couldn’t be found here. That it would be bad for both of you.
“You remember me.” She said bluntly, fierce-wild eyes focused on your face. "When you see us, you remember.“
You nod, swallowing nervously under her scrutiny. She walked over to you, each step made with purpose, and pushed your hair back to look behind your ear. Her fingers, strong and calloused and warmer than any touch you’d ever felt, ran over the faint scar from your implant. The same implant everyone had, to promote peace and understanding. She seemed even more confused when she stepped away, like she’d been expecting something different.
"Who are you?” You finally ask, fighting back the way her steady gaze made you feel like running. Like a rabbit under the eyes of a hawk. She gave you a mysterious smile and shook her head.
“Just a shadow.” And then she was gone, out the window and into the night to leave you dazed and even more confused than ever in her wake.
By morning you were sure it was just a dream. Until you saw the sooty black dust left where she’d been standing. The same kind of dust that accompanied the explosion of City Hall and others like it. That pretty much proved your theory that the girl and her companions were the ones causing these things.
But you didn’t know why they did it. Or why no one ever remembered. So the next night you gathered your courage and went out to look for the girl again, walking from the comfortable roads you’d followed all your life onto streets you didn’t know existed. Streets where the windows on buildings were boarded up and harsh words were painted on the walls. Where there were no carefully tended flowers or trees to brighten the atmosphere. Where everything was sharp like the girl, where it all felt strangely more real than anything else.
“I told you she was different.” The girl’s voice rang from one of the broken windows and you spun to face her, watching her step through the shattered glass onto the street. Other’s followed, slipping from shadows and alleyways to surround you. They moved together, a group that was more like a single entity than many. And yet they were all individual as well, bright and independent while also be a part of a whole. The girl smiled at you and that was the last thing you saw before there was a sharp pain on the back of your head and everything went dark.
When you woke your head ached, and the spot behind your ear where your implant had been hurt more than the rest. Reaching up to rub it you found a bandage there and a bump on the back of your head. A small sound had you looking around to see the girl sitting on a chair a few feet away and you took a moment to study your surroundings. There was the cot you were laying on, shoved into the corner of a small room with cabinets full of medical supplies and a small table with a couple of chairs where the girl was sitting. Looking back at her you realized she was watching and you sat up.
“Where am I?” She gave you that crooked smile, sharp and fierce and bright enough that you thought it could burn you.
“Welcome to the shadows.”
Dusky
Succubus
Ooh. Oooooooh.
I have words for this, including well-crafted and overwrought. I shall surely have more later.
I have words for this, including well-crafted and overwrought. I shall surely have more later.
Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
Hmm. Tonally strong, reasonable use of repetition, pleasing flow.
I think you should consider dumping the perspective gimmick, and stretch this out more. Show rather than tell, and all that. The pacing is actually remarkably functional for the structure and length, so I think it might really shine if you give it room to breathe.
I did not roll my eyes at the ending. That's an accomplishment; I've seen lines like that delivered in movies that ruined them completely for me.
I think you should consider dumping the perspective gimmick, and stretch this out more. Show rather than tell, and all that. The pacing is actually remarkably functional for the structure and length, so I think it might really shine if you give it room to breathe.
I did not roll my eyes at the ending. That's an accomplishment; I've seen lines like that delivered in movies that ruined them completely for me.
Ink Knight
If there's ladies loving ladies I'm there
@Dusky - Thanks!
