Writing Practice

Here is a random post about recent events and my latest new year's resolution update. 

Yesterday I was a professional escort, hired by a guy to hang out, chat, and help wingman at a bar. Last week, I was hired to play with a kid in Terraria. Last week I also started a hard keto diet (high fat, low carb style) for the next three months as well. Fun times. 

My new year's resolution was to write a novel as part of NaNoWriMo this year. As such I have been starting to do writing practice and study. 

Here is the (very short) story I wrote as part of the Start With This podcast challenge (by the makers of Welcome to Nightvale). The challenge was to write about an idea you had. Set aside an hour and just create something based on the idea. I ended up going a little over an hour and found myself (just like in game creating) needing more time to polish. 

The idea I just pulled from my idea notes, a database of ideas and thoughts I jot down sometimes. I picked one randomly, and I couldn't remember fully what the idea was about. This was in my notes: "Now the thing I did to her, is going to happen to me" transfers from person to person. everyone from same person, just different steps  -friends are near you in step. 

I made up a new word in this story, "wearned" which means "looked like it has had no maintenance for a long time" and carries a meaning like it is pleading to be repaired or put out of its misery. Other words like friender and tracker can be conferred by the context. Feel free to let me know what you think!

Jack  felt the rumble in his seat as the train ambled along its track. He imagined that if he were to stick his hand out the window, the blustering wind would feel cooler and clearer than the warm and slightly gritty air that seems to hang in and around the stations and train cars.
"But, is it wind if I am the one moving and the air outside is not?"
The answer in his mind was as silent as the passengers around him.
He dozed with one eye open. 

Waking  some time later, the scuffle of boots and squeak of the doors alerted  him to the stop. Shaking off the slumber, he gathered his briefcase and  stood in line behind others, slowly moving forward and taking a step  every few seconds as an elderly couple made their way off the train.
Summoning  patience, he looked around, and noticed a pair of women walking outside  the train. They were twins, and walked in perfect lock step. One of them with purple dyed hair, the other natural dark brown. The purple haired twin was laughing. They seemed to be playing a game to see how long they could stay stepping in time with each other.
Space  in front of him opened up, and Jack took a step. Slipping hand from bar  to bar, Jack noticed how those in front of him stepped at different times most of the time. Sometimes the rhythm would appear, the step traveling like a wave down the line of people. Sometimes an impatient step would mimic the person in front of them. They said everyone came from the same human, we all just took different steps. Friends are those near you in step. Jack shook his head. Enemies are near you in step too, sometimes even closer than friends, but they don't want to be there, and usually leave quickly.
It seemed to take forever to get off the train.
"Is it still time passing if we are frozen and the space outside is not?"
Any answer to his fleeting thought was interrupted as his path to the exit was cleared.
He walked with his mind half pondering.

Rounding  the corner, Jack checked his tracker and then looked up and spotted the  building. Older than it showed in the case file, the brown and red building wearned, with strips of exposed paint, cracked tiles, broken faux paneling. The area was dimly lit and the street covered in debris and graffiti. Some vehicles skulked from parking spot to curbside, and a man that eyed him with a strange look from across the lot stood in the shadows near a lamp, as if waiting for something. The man wore a strange hat that seemed to only sit on the front half of his head, and his  clothes had no apparent buttons or zippers. 

Ignoring  the eyes on him, and the smell, Jack walked into the establishment  through the unmarked front door. Inside, a woman sat at a desk, a buffer from the outside world to the inner sanctuary, no doubt.
"Scan your tracker here.." she mumbled, the lack of preamble indicative of the state of the place.
Jack  slipped his fake tracker out from his overcoat and scanned it. He must have made a good impression because it showed a cover fee much lower than what he thought was the average. He accepted the fee and the system verified his credit was good.
He hesitated, checking the  area for where he thought might be the right place to go next. The woman  noticed he hadn't left immediately after the system showed he was good. "First time here? Main display is in the back, down that way, honey. If  you have an appointment I can ring you in to our private conference room...?"
Jack checked that his tracker was connected to the establishment's system and then shook his head. "I will go see what you  have, thanks." 

Jack proceeded down the hall to the main display. He captured brief looks from the frienders in various states of  dress on the stage. A pair of them were twins, one with purple hair. Jack suppressed a shock as he recognized them from earlier. He also got  glances from the sparse audience who wisely wore masks. There in the back was the ringleader.
Moving swiftly, Jack approached and then handcuffed the ringleader. Revealing his badge he enabled system takeover of the illegal friender ring, and the connected tracker turned the building's security tasers against the goons who moved against him.
The frienders were freed and with grateful tears, fled from the building. The audience fled- at least those calm enough to be able to blend in with the frienders and avoid the tasers. Outside, the search warranted train tracked the fleeing patrons and measured their state of anger. Arrest recordings began to be put in place for some of their stops. 

"Yes, this was going to be a terrible fate for her."
Jack looked up in the middle of his arrest recording and found the man with the strange hat walking up to him.
"Possible comp, observed in lot outside before the arrest," he said for the camera, reservedly.
"My  name is Thiel, and I am the one who called you." The man with the hat looked unusually sure of himself, given the rush of people that had just scrambled out of the building.
He looked at a screen showing an  image of the twins, highlighting the "new merchandise", and nodded to the dark haired woman. "Now the thing I did for her, is going to happen to me." He smiled a small, crazy smile, and started doing a slow spin as he looked around the room.
Jack didn't know about that. A few days later, the system notified him. Thiel had been given a free system slip card. Jack paused with one finger on the tracker. Probably just a coincidence. 


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