everyday horrors

Just a little opening for a story idea I'm toying with. Let me know what you think!

---As the sun was setting, Sam peered ahead on the bike path, seeing his silhouette dimly traced on the pavement. He was thirsty, parched from a day of riding. It had been a while, and he cursed himself because of it. “I want to get back in shape, I miss riding the trails like I used to,” he’d told himself at the start of the summer, but he was really regretting letting himself go this long.

His chest was burning, as were his legs, and with home just a few minutes away, Sam decided to push his bike the rest of the way. “I really shouldn’t be biking at night without my safety lights on, anyway,” he thought to himself as he strolled along, watching his own shadow cross over those of tree branches that blew wildly in the summer breeze.

The light was just about gone, and what was left of his shadow that the trees hadn’t snuffed out was almost completely faded, absorbed into the darkness that fell over the path like a blanket. It was just then that he’d realized the reason he was having such a comfortable time pushing his bike on the usually busy path; he was alone. In fact, he hadn’t seen anyone in quite some time.

It wasn’t something new to him, really. He’d only actually gone biking with a friend a handful of times. Sam came to find that people were unreliable, and if he was really going to get back in shape, he couldn’t count on someone else to push him. But there were always people on the path, at any given time. It wasn’t ever this empty, though—or, this dark, that he could remember.

The breeze continued to blow through the leaves and branches, but Sam couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was hearing something else along with it. Something quiet, sneaky. He slowed, almost to a stop, so that he could hear it more clearly. Sam turned his head, looking out into the blackness of the woods beside the path, held his breath, and listened. He heard it for sure this time. With his head locked straight-ahead, he quickened his pace.

It was getting louder now, closer, as if it was following behind him. Sam was moving at a brisk pace now, along side his bike. Half tempted to turn around to view where it was coming from, half tempted to ditch his bike and move to an all out sprint, Sam couldn’t decide before he noticed something moving in the darkness in front of him—shadows, moving in the darkness, somehow darker than the night, whipping furiously across the only path he had. He chose the latter option.

Sam’s bike hit the pavement with a crash, and he bolt as fast as he could—but he couldn’t see towards what. For the first time since he heard them, after believing he’d been running toward the exit, Sam realized the he could no longer see the way out. There was no light at the end, there was only the barely visible path, and whoever—whatever—was behind him.

“I’ll just run. I’ll stay on the path, and I’ll run,” Sam said. The wind blew, and he heard it again. “Shut up! I’m not tired!” he shouted, as he strained to maintain the pace. It was quicker than he was, though. This was all a game.

He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t shut out the whispers that came from the deep, hollow woods. They were right. He was tired, fat, out of shape. He’d kill to be sitting at home on the couch, drinking a beer. Just the thought made him want to slow down. What was he running for? He opened his eyes again, and saw a light. He knew the light; it was the streetlight that stood where the bike path met the road. He felt safe again. Safe, until he heard those nasty little whispering voices laughing.

As he approached the light, he was stopped dead. He saw, under the old streetlight, his bike, the bike that he’d ditched heaven only knows how far back. He couldn’t shake the empty feeling the whole scene gave him; his bike lying beneath the dull, soulless light. Just then, a figure caught his eye, something just outside the reaches of that light. He heard that something moving through the brush just off the path.

He slowly crept up to the light, examining what was indeed his bike. Every instinct told him not to, but his eyes were drawn to it like a magnet. Sam couldn’t stop himself from looking to the edge of the path, where he saw that mysterious figure. It looked like something had slid from the path, or was dragged out into the woods. There was dirt kicked up, little plants and shrubbery trampled and destroyed, and in the middle of it, was a shoe.

Sam could barely make it out in the darkness, but the shoe was familiar.  He’d had a pair like that before, Nike brand running shoe. “In fact…” he thought, as he looked down. He had the matching shoe on his left foot, and was missing the right. A man possessed, by curiosity or something else, Sam followed the trail half wanting to know what he’d find, half already knowing the answer.

i can't seem to write...

I haven’t been able to write much lately, myself. I just sit here, thinking about writing, but there’s something stopping me from actually taking that leap and putting words on the screen. Something, hidden in the shadows of my mind, that keeps me from spilling my thoughts out, because I’m afraid that I might actually see it. I won’t be able to ignore it anymore. I’ll be forced to stare at it, and it’s just something that I don’t think I’m ready for. Is it the silence of the whole thing? I try to distract myself with music, or maybe by letting The Office play in the background, but that takes away any ambition I had to write in the first place. If I want to start creating again, I’m going to have to face whatever that thing is. I can’t be afraid anymore. I have to confront it, and use it to make something beautiful.

I catch glimpses of it, poetically stringing words together in everyday conversations, and even texting, but I can’t seem to write about my characters. Even when I have free time, I just sit and stare at my laptop, which I’d just have to open to start writing, but I can’t bring myself to do that. Just the action of lifting the screen and getting started becomes daunting. When I do finally open it, I float around the net, browsing Facebook posts, reading up on news. Don’t get me wrong; I constantly have the urge to write, whether it’s about something inspiring or depressing, but I’m always afraid that I’ll end up in a darker place, where being able to tell a story is the least of my concern. I’m afraid that I’ll be trapped in that dark place till the wee hours of the night, or that I’ll uncover something that I didn’t want to know, or even that I’ll create some sort of monster in my head. The problem with my inspiration is, I want not only to delve into a character, but into an emotion. I want to explore it, define it, personify it. But when your emotions are like mine, that’s a scary thought. Sure, it can start out constructively, but you’re soon finding yourself into something else entirely. When the darkness is there, you always seem to find a way around to it.

I’m tired of using that excuse, though. I feel the need to create, and I want to exploit that need, even if that means I have to make something darker, or be someone darker. Even if I have to start writing about why I can't write. Because I need to feel like I’m doing something, or this feeling that I’m being left behind is only going to grow. Everyone’s graduated on to bigger and better things, but I’m still stuck here. Writing is all I have. People can go on about looks or manners, but writing is the only thing that makes me feel like I’ve got worth. Telling these stories is what’s going to take me to the places that I want to go. Writing is what makes me happy, and not even something scary, dark, and unknown should keep me from that.

What I've been up to.

I may not have blogged much recently, but that doesn't mean I've been getting nothing does (which it used to mean). Things have actually been relatively decent lately, despite the shitstorm on the horizon. Though, for the first time, I feel like I may actually be prepared for it. 

As I'm sure most of the people who read this blog already know, I was doing GISHWHES this past week. GISHWHES, or "Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen," was a blast. Basically, we just spent the week doing nice, and weird, things for people. It was a bunch of fun, and here are some of my favorite pics of some things we did:

 

Yeah, it was definitely a weird week. 

The other reason I've been so busy, is that I've been writing. Yes, really. Other than this blog. I saw a post on NerdBastards.com's Facebook page, which said they were looking for writers, so I figured "what the hell?" and sent in a sample. They loved it. So, the rest is history, and here I am; the newest writer for NerdBastards.com. While its definitely a milestone to get appreciation ($, let's be honest here) and a huge audience (one of my first articles was at 1300 views), I'm not stopping here. If everything goes right, this will help me get one step closer to writing for a living, which is great, because it's always been my dream to be paid to not work. 

Hopefully, this is a pleasant update for any of you that are actually reading this blog, and even if no one is, it feels good to write about something positive happening in my life for once. 

Have a good day!

bc

Dianne... The Black Lodge sucks

First, let me apologize for my absence from the blog; while I could go on making up excuses for why I've bailed when I explicitly said I wouldn't, I've decided to just start doing what I've come here to do, and that is to write about shit that most people probably don't even care about, and wait to see how many people read it, only to be disappointed by that low, low number. So, here we go. 

I've been in a heavy "Twin Peaks mood" lately, and while I'm tempted to watch the series for a 3rd time, the show carries something of a bitter sweet memory for me. Meeting Coop and the residents of Twin Peaks is something I wouldn't want to go through life without having done, and I recommend everyone watches the show at least once, but I cannot get over how it ended. Do you have to put a spoiler alert for a show that ended over 20 years ago?

*************SPOILER ALERT**************

I know, I know. People will try to act like they "understand" the reasoning behind the ending of the series, and that it's "better that way" with Cooper's uncertain fate, but those people can fuck off. Sure, a lot of stories got tied up by the end of the series, but what the hell happens to Cooper!? Then, that prick David Lynch makes a prequel/sequel movie, but does it clear up the ending at all? Nope. More ambiguity concerning Cooper's demise/triumph. That doesn't sit well with me. Well, Laura Palmer (her father killed her (I said spoilers)) said that Agent Dale Cooper would be stuck in The Black Lodge for "25 years," which should be coming up right around now. What a better time to start gearing up for a TV return to that wonderful little town that we (me and 4 other people) all love?

Well, about 6 months back, there were actually rumors that this would be the case. I was all set to throw on a fresh pot of coffee and book my room at the Great Northern, but I've just read that there will indeed be no proper ending to this story. In a day and age when we have about 6 different "Real Housewife" shows, Netflix exclusive series are booming, and shows that borrow directly from Twin Peaks are thriving, it makes no sense to me that there will be no third and final season. I guess I just don't get the entertainment business. 

It just doesn't seem fair; that's not regarding me (okay, it is; I'm selfish and I want my damn ending), it's for all of those people out there who have never experienced this wonderful show at all and probably never will, and for them, I feel truly sorry. They will never see Bobby Briggs go from a rebellious kid, to a young man who gains his fathers respect, or Ben Horne lose his mind and pretend his in the Civil War, or James and his terrible, terrible singing, or Audrey actually find love, or Norma turning into a silent drapes-superhero. Or Big Ed, Andy and Lucy, The Man From Another Place? Has anyone ever played a better cross-dresser than David Duchovny? How about that old guy who keeps giving Coop a thumbs-up? I nearly pissed myself. 

Well, that's all from me for tonight; it looks like I'm gonna watch some Twin Peaks after all... right after I get this damn fish out of the percolator. 

what's been keeping me from getting any work done

So, I've been distracted by various forms of media as of late, and since I've decided to be more consistently productive, I figured I'd make those distractions tonight's topic. 

First, since the world of mixed martial arts is so fast changing, I'd like to get that out of the way; how the hell have I not talked about the "punch heard 'round the world" as some martial arts reporters are calling it. Chris Weidman, who, I will admit, I said hadn't beaten nearly enough contenders on his way to the title, beat the champ, Anderson Silva. Looking back 2 Saturdays ago, it still doesn't seem believable. Not to rain on anyone's parade, but I can't help but think that Silva severely underestimated his opponent that night. Fortunately, a rematch has officially been set; December 28th, if I'm not mistaken. Even if Silva regains, I can't help but feel like such an unnecessary blemish was put on such an immaculate record. Also, I've since found this show, The Tommy Toe Hold Show, on YouTube, and I highly recommend it to anyone who follows MMA, especially if you're looking for a laugh.

I know it's been a good while since the game was released, but I've been playing Resident Evil 6 lately, and I'd like to rant about that for a bit. As everyone already knows for themselves, the game overall is extremely underwhelming. At times, it's a chore to play, but that's what's so upsetting to me about the game, because it isn't all that bad at its core. There are a few solid improvements made in the gameplay areas over its predecessors, and the story isn't all that terrible, but then you have these idiotic chase scenes, awful, wacky camera angles, and a terrible weapon control system. I'm not so hot on the "Skills" either. After playing through a bit, I find myself yearning for the days of being able to control and customize my own load out, upgrading and carrying whichever guns I felt like. Would that have been such a crazy thing to carry over? I've been able to overlook the glaring lack of alternate costumes, something that made replaying the game just a bit more fun, and something that seems like it could have been done, even with the damage progression throughout the game (see Tomb Raider). While most people are quick to discount the game in its entirety, I find myself more disappointed by those few missteps and wishing for what could have been. 

Onto something more positive; I was watching The Avengers this weekend, for the third or fourth time, and I find myself loving it just as much as the first time. It's undoubtedly a masterpiece, and it really is perfect in every single way; every line, every reference, every move, every scene. While I wasn't too familiar with Whedon's work before seeing The Avengers, it's safe to say I deeply admire his work now. After seeing Iron Man 3, I made the statement that I thought it might have actually been better than The Avengers, but now, I'm not so sure. IM3 is without a doubt a great film, easily the best of the year, but it's hard to top perfection. 

We've covered games, movies, sports (well, sport, since I only really care about one), so I guess it's onto television. 666 Park Avenue is a show that, despite having its flaws (not all too exciting from the start), I feel was wrongly canceled. Here, a show with such potential, something any Twin Peaks fans out there should definitely check out, has oddly suffered a similar fate. Am I that much in the minority of viewers that a show like that can't thrive? Are we really outnumbered by the folks that watch some of that garbage that spews through the tube and into their living rooms? Anyway, getting a bit off topic there. The season finale aired last night, and I can't help but feel that we were robbed out of a much better, proper ending, as the show was rewritten to give more closure to viewers. While I was doing a bit of reading up, I read that apparently, a deal with Hulu or Netflix to continue the series was proposed, but fell through, further pushing a proper ending out of our reach. What's a guy gotta do to get John Locke back on TV?

Also (music), the new Panic! At The Disco song sucks ass. 

BC

inconsistent

So, I've come to the realization that I've been growing more and more lazy with this blog, which is the exact opposite effect I wanted it to have. Instead of getting my ideas out, I've been keeping them in my head, hiding them from ever seeing the light of my computer screen. There are a lot of projects and ideas that I have in my head, but it seems like I just don't have enough time/energy/enthusiasm to tackle them all.

A few of scripts (one for a game, one for a movie, one for a short film), a bi-weekly (or is it bi-monthly? Does anyone know which means every two weeks?) story posted to relyonhorror.com, a novel I've been working on for a while but just haven't gotten around to finishing. Then there are other things going ideas going around in my head; reading more from House of Leaves (which is awesome, by the way), writing that survival horror comparison/review article about Tomb Raider, submitting that children's book entry for that contest. Then, not to mention the fact that I need to be filling out job applications, so I can find a way to start bringing in some real money again. All of that, and the only thing I've really managed to do in these past few weeks is take a nap. 

Sure, I can make the excuse that Steph is home for the summer and I'm spending as much time with her as I can, which is true, but there's something more to it. Part of me is afraid to start diving into these ideas, overwhelmed at the thought of the amount of work it's going to take to make them come to life, let alone the thought of any of them failing. So, I hide my anxiety in these excuses, but I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of being inconsistent. Maybe updating this blog will be the first step. 

BC

venting frustration

I'm sure there's lots of times in life where people feel under appreciated. I've felt it before, but I'm not sure it's ever been to the degree that I feel it right now. I've taken time away from my other projects to volunteer for a site, wanting to make it better and help them succeed. For the third time now, I come across a conversation on our group page that's basically so obvious that they are complaining about me, that they might as well have tagged me in it. 

Here's the truth; instead of getting my own name out there, I figured my time would be better off spent correcting the vast amount of grammar and spelling mistakes that make the site come off as amateurish. Where =/= were, even if you spell it that way 6 times in one article. 

The fact of the matter is, they complain about not being able to get their stuff out to more people, but I'd be embarrassed to have someone read that. I'd be fucking embarrassed to put my name on that work and call it my own. There is no way in hell a few of them even give it a second read, and how can you have pride in your work when you're basically just regurgitating some information, not even able to be bothered to look over it before serving it up to your readers? So, my efforts to help make them look better, like professionals, is met with ungrateful whining about "some people" (obviously, me) not pulling their weight. I spend more time wading through the shit swamp that is their writing in one day than they spend writing articles all week... or at least, I'd hope so, considering how poorly written some of them are. 

On top of that, my new article goes up, and unlike every single other article that gets shared (some even get shared twice...) on our Facebook page, mine, and only mine, gets skipped completely. Not on Twitter, not on Facebook. It reminds me of that promo that CM Punk cut when his contract was expiring and he was giving his reason for leaving, which was, surprise surprise, BEING UNDER-APPRECIATED. He's not on the commercial, he's not on the opener, he's not on the program, he's not on your stupid 7/11 cups. I'm not on your Facebook or Twitter, even though I bust my ass as much as, or more than, anyone else. As I've mentioned before, instead of being selfish and getting my own name out there, I'm editing; when I post something, I'd like it to be given to the same audience that everyone else gets the privilege to have.

Anyway, it's too early to be this angry/frustrated/disappointed, so I will leave this now. Thanks for letting me vent, and hopefully, I won't have to deal with this same issue again, for one reason or another. 

BC