The Ending of the Talisman

It was coming in for the kill. Suddenly everyone burst out of the kitchen, the whole group, just like that Jason hefted me up off of the floor, getting me back on my feet.

“MOVE!” I limped, looking behind me though, I watched as the the creature now came barreling down the stairs, overtaking Aunt Jean. We were heading for the basement, why the basement? The creature leaped from Jean to Riley, slashing her back as she fell. We were on the stairs now, heading down. My mom was behind me, but the door slammed shut on her. And all I heard was sad screaming and wailing that went silent quickly.

“Mom!” I screamed. This was all going to quickly, what was going on? Haley struggled to to get me down the stairs. I was blocking the way for her and Jack, but I had to get my mom, save her. No, I had to save Haley and Jack now. Grimly I continued down the stairs, as fast as my bruised body would let me. I could see Jason already down there, waiting for us.

“Come on Cam! Hurry!” He shouted. I hustled down, grabbing Haley's hand who grabbed Jacks in response. We were going down the long, single hallway now. Not two feet down the beast, no the demon, exploded from one door, tackling Jason into the room across from it. I heard him fighting, but there was no time. I had to save Jack and Haley. We were almost there, a mere few feet from the door at the end of the hallway, the room full of safes. Suddenly I felt Haley tug my hand, I turned back to see Jack had fallen, the demon on top of him, tearing him to pieces. No time, I had to save Haley.

I hurled her into the room, closing the door behind me and turning the little lock on the handle. Everyone dead, how had that all happened, all so quickly. But I still had Haley at least, she sat on the floor with ragged breath and a complete look of shock. Exhausted, I sat down next to her. It was complete silence now, utter silence. I leaned my head back against one of the safes, I was so tired now, so beat up. I was broken, bleeding, and scarred. There was no escape, no way to stay alive.

I put my arm around Haley, who was crying horribly now. Even if we would die soon, I would try to make the most of these few moments...

It took a few minutes, but she did stop. She stared at the door, her face had streaks of blood, probably Jack's. She probably felt as I did, just numb, to numb to be scared anymore. It felt good honestly, not being scared anymore. Instead I softly held her hand.

“I'm sorry.”

“None of this is your fault, Cam,” she said kindly.

“I mean for never coming out to you, never opening up to you.”

“It doesn't matter any more.”

“Well it did,” I explained, “And I'm sorry.” Haley turned, facing me, and leaned forward giving me a hug. I wrapped my arms around her in return. At least we had each other for now. She came face to face now, smiling at me. I smiled back, stroking her cheek and pushing the stray hairs back behind her ear. Something caught my eye behind her though. There it sat, right in the corner, almost passing as a statue. It had dark gray skin with its muscular but skinny figure. Its face would be a mans, if not for the strange snout and razor filled smile. It gave me an amused look, like this was all fun and games for it.

Haley saw my face, knowing what was coming. She hugged me tightly, not letting go, and I gripped her tightly. Almost nonchalantly the demon walked forward, knowing it was victorious. I closed my eyes as I felt Haley pulled out of my grip. I wouldn't look, but I could hear the thing going to work. It tore her apart, slowly, as if relishing my pain. I knew what it was now, or somewhat. As soon as I saw it crouching in the corner I saw the obvious resemblance. I felt the beast pick me up by my throat. Yes I knew, it was plain as day now. The markings were the exact shape of it. I pulled it out from under my shirt feeling its shape, rolling it around in my palm. The beast ripped into me now. I was to numb to feel though, and I was dying anyway. The creature itself was a living depiction of the little thing in my hand. That must have been grandfather's hand I found wedged in the safe earlier, he had been trying to lock up the necklace. Trying to make sure this beast didn't kill anyone else. Who knew such evil could lie in a little pendant, in such an insignificant thing, in just a single talisman.

The Talisman P.5

“I hate to say it Cam, but I say we go back up there to,” he agreed solemnly. I rose now, angered by there stubbornness, why didn't they listen?

“No, don't you see! That's exactly what,” I stumbled at a loss of words, “That's what IT wants!”

“What do you mean it,” Will asked suspiciously. I looked at Jason for support, but he didn't say anything. I sighed.

“We saw what was doing all this,” I explained. “We all did.” He looked at all of us skeptically, and Jason nodded insurance. Will continued to ask about what we saw, but no matter how much we described and, including Jack's narrative, he didn't quite believe us. He would just shake his head and say none of what we said was possible. My only response was that no explanation for all this would be possible, which he reluctantly accepted. After much discussion we made our way back to the table, making our decision. Myself, Jason, Will, and Brandith, would make our way upstairs and check for reassurance. The rest would stay down stairs, and stay where they were. Everybody was hesitant, but we knew it was the right thing to do. So we quickly passed through the living room and made our way upstairs.

As we checked the first room, were Brandith had lost his mom, Will suddenly perked up, talking about old memories.

“You know, your grandfather used to invite me and your mom and the rest up here to ski every year,” he laughed to himself, “ it was always a blast.” He ran his hand against the comforter of the small bed. “This was my room...” he said, trailing off into remembrance of better times.

“That must be why it always smelled so bad in here,” Jason said with a grin. Will returned the smile.

“This must be your room now then,” said Will.

“Ya, or it was at least.” They continued to reminisce while me and Brandith talked by the door, him in the doorway, me leaning against the door.

“We really should keep going,” he suggested nervously.

“I know, but let them talk, Will seems to be shaking off his nerves.”

“The others will be worried if we stay to long.”

“It won't take that long.”

“Haley will be worried.” I paused, he knew that hit hard. Brandith knew best of all my feelings for her.

“You know you have my permission,” he continued, “she feels the same way you know, just got to be the first to break the ice.”

“One thing at a time dude,” I replied, “we got to get out of here before I start thinking about that.” I watched as Jason and Will talked about nice, pleasant things, then turned back to Brandith. Where was he? Yelling erupted from outside the room, and as quick as I could I ran out of the room, seeing Brandith's face right as he was pulled into the room Ray had been lured into. With Will and Jason behind me I charged forward, throwing caution to the wind. The room was dark, but through the darkness I could see Brandith sitting in the corner, bleeding horribly from the neck. Of course, the mark lay on his forehead, but he was still alive! I made my way to him, but the look in his eye stopped me. I could see he was about to die, but just as the last strength was leaving his body, he let one last word slip between his lips.

“Up.” I looked right above him, where the two walls met with the ceiling. I looked with dismay, I could see... it, the creature. It was perched up there like a giant black bird with its demonic eyes and deadly smile. I could see now it had a short stubby muzzle, making its face look almost... like a gargoyles. Without warning the creature jumped out. I cringed, my time had come. But the thing landed on Will who was right next to me.

“RUN!” He screamed as he struggled against the creature. As me and Jason turned to run I could feel a warm liquid spraying up against my neck and back, but I tried to ignore it. I ran behind Jason, but I could hear it running behind us, we were almost there...

Right as I turned the corner to go down the stairs I felt its claws rake against my side with enough force to send me flying down the stairs, stumbling and falling. I felt ribs snap, as I landed hard on floor level, bruised and battered from the fall. Jason had already run back into the kitchen. Grunting I lifted my head, looking back back up the stairs. I could see the beast coming down, head first, on all fours.

The Talisman P.4

“He came into the room, but the others didn't see him. Only I saw him. I wanted to yell, but he was to... scary. I was too scared. He stared right at me, and it’s like when he looked at me I couldn't move. Then suddenly he attacked the kids, some of them screamed, I did. But he moved so fast, it’s like it just... happened. Then he came up to me,” Jack stopped, choking up. We waited patiently for him to continue. After a minute or two he recomposed himself and continued.

“He came up to me, right up to my face, and said “Tonight, you all die.” Then he smiled and just kind of... vanished.” I could see Jack shaking, uncontrollably in fear. I gently put my arm around him.

“What did he look like Jack.” His eyes widened and he shook even more, like he was about to freeze. Then, slowly, he nodded to the living room door, which was slightly ajar. I looked, and there it was. Even though we had left the light on in the living room, it small space was pitch black. All except for the gleaming black eyes, liked polished orbs glowing in the moonlight. I watched as a large smile broke out right under the eyes, growing wider and wider, full of startling white fangs. I could just make out the dark out line of the creature, it was as tall as me, but had a small body and elongated limbs, its clawed hands also shining in the dark. It looked like, no, it couldn't be. Then it vanished into the darkness of the room.

I looked around to see if anyone else had seen, and to my surprise Jason was right in front of me, looking into the crevice of the doorway.

“Jason?” He looked back down at me, then threw another glance at the door, then bent down in front of me.

“What the hell was that,” he said under his breath. I just shook my head, how would I know? Well the way it looked though, I swear it looked like...

“Well I'm going to go check it out,” Jason said firmly, determined.

“No! You can't go alone!” I said urgently, “At least take someone with you!”

“Fine then, where's dad?” Jason looked around the room, searching for Ray. I had to tell him, as much as it pained me.

“Jason, your dad, he's... He was taken.” Jason kept looking though, even though he knew what I said was true.

“Jason, I'm... I'm sorry.” He just looked at the ground, accepting what I said.

“When we were down stairs, in the basement,” Jason started, “me and Riley stayed together, but Charles and Amelia.” He stopped, shaking his head. “They both split up. We found them, but they were both dead, that damned mark on their heads.” No, that wasn't possible, how could that thing kill Ray, the kids, and Amelia and Charles all at the same time? I looked around, taking another role call; there was me, Jack, Haley and Brandith, my mom, Uncle Will, Aunt Jean, Riley, and Jason. I hadn't even realized how few of us there were now.

Sadly I watched as Haley scanned the table, doing the same thing Jason had been doing a second ago. She looked and looked, but knew she wouldn't find who she was looking for. I took hold of her hand, but I could see the tears as she drew in shuttering breaths.

“I'm sorry.”

“She was right behind me, I swear,” she exclaimed, growing louder, “we have to go up there!” I just shook my head.

“We have to stick together,” I explained, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “It's our only hope of staying alive-”

“No! We have to! Please!” The tears came pouring down her face now, and she struggled to maintain herself.

“I agree,” Jason interrupted. I met his eye and saw the cold determination in there, just like his father had.

“No Jason.” Suddenly he broke,

“Damn it Cam! My dad is up there, her mom is up there! They could still be up there, alive!” He yelled, his voice cracking. Riley and Will had come over now, over hearing our argument. Uncle Will was normally upbeat and positive, much like my mom, but now look straight faced with bags under his bright blue eyes, even though it was only eight.

The Talisman P.3

Uncle Charles, Aunt Amelia, along with Jason and Riley, would go to the basement, and Uncle Will, my mom, and Aunt Jean, would investigate the east wing, where the adults would stay. In the meantime the kids would stay in the living room, all seven of them. We simply instructed them to stay in the room and to stay together, and they would be safe.

So, we set off, climbing the stairs and splitting up, the one group going west, the other east. That separation only led to another, as the hallway split, three rooms on each small hallway, two on each side and one on the end. Without even thinking Haley and her family went one way into a room, me and Ray the other. As the three of them entered the first room, me and Ray stayed in the hallway for a moment. He looked at me, questioningly, I could see he was asking if I was ready. I nodded, and slowly he opened the first door.

“Ray...” It was the coarsest whisper, like something you would hear on the wind, but Ray froze, midway through twisting the doorknob.

“Ray... Help.” A little louder this time, and the voice, it was feminine, it was...

“Meagan,” Ray said, coming to the realization. No, it’s not possible, Meagan was dead, the car accident. Ray was a widow, there was no way.

“Please Ray, come to me,” the small voice called again. It came from the room on the end of the hallway, I looked back, but Haley was still in the bedroom with her family.

“I'm coming Meagan,” Ray answered, his voice cracking with emotion as I could see the tears running down his cheeks. Obediently he turned, making his way to the dark room, as if in a trance.

“Ray,” I warned. But he kept shuffling forward to the door in tear.

“Yes Ray, come to me,” the voice demanded, a little less sweet and familiar. Ray was right outside the door now, as he started turning the knob with a sharp squeaking sound.

“Almost there,” the voice hissed now, its voice darker and raspier. Ray entered the room quickly, not even thinking. I watched silently as he entered the dark abyss of the room. I was too shocked, too confused to do anything. Suddenly the door slammed shut, the loud bang resounding throughout the house.

“Ray!” I yelled, ready to charge into the room. Screaming and yelping suddenly broke out from down stairs, it was the children! I was split, I looked from the door to the stairs, where do I go? Brandith came bursting out of the room, followed by Haley and his mother.

“Come on Cam, we got to help them,” he cried, grabbing my arm and pulling me down the stairs with him. I tried to fight at first, but realized it was pointless, we were already about to enter the living room, and the others were all behind now, except for the group we could hear charging up from the basement.

We burst through the door, almost running into one of the kids. It was Jack, standing there crying his eyes out. I ignored everything else, picking up Jack and comforting him, he seemed uninjured, except he had the strange mark on his head, like the other victims. I tried calming him, shushing him, asking him what happened, but he wouldn't stop. The other adults were screaming and crying all around us, making it impossible for him to calm down. Grimly I observed the scene and children around us, oh god, this was the worst yet. All these dead children. Each one was exactly where we left them, except for one thing. Each one was decapitated, their heads at their feet with the horrid little marks. Jack was the only survivor.

The rest of us regrouped in the dining room, a morbid silence overtaking us all. The only sound was the sobbing of my Aunts. I sat in the corner with Haley and Jack, we had managed to calm him down, but neither Haley nor I could get him to tell us what had happened.

“Please Jack, talk to us,” Haley begged, trying to sound calm and motherly. “You need to tell us what happened out there.” But he just stared off into the distance, his eyes empty and emotionless. I could only imagine how a thing like this would affect a seven year old boy.

“The man,” he murmured.

“What?”

“No, the monster. The man who is a monster,” he said.

“Is that who did this,” I asked.

“Yes, but no.”

“Please, explain what happened Jack,” Haley said softly.

The Talisman P.2

The others continued telling jokes and sharing stories as we made our way to the kitchen.

“You know this really isn't like him,” May said, “you know him, always on time to please his customers.”

“Ya, it is strange,” I replied, swinging open the door. As we entered we were both surprised to find the kitchen dark and silent, the only sound a faint dripping.

“Where did he go,” I inquired. “Hey do you know where the light switch is?”

“Ya, one second,” May walked off around the corner into the cooking area, and the lights quickly were flicked on. I followed her around the bend, then stopped. May was planted in place, staring at the far end of the kitchen, mute. I followed her gaze and froze. There was Eric. God, what had happened? He lay on the ground, a look of peace on his face, his arms across his chest. But right in the middle, right through the center of his chest was a gaping hole, the size of a fist. Around him was a perfectly circular puddle of dark red blood. Strangest of all, he had a series of scratches on his forehead, almost like a pattern, almost... familiar.

I turned to the side, vomiting into the nearby sink. I could hear May silently sobbing, making sad choking sounds. The burning stomach acid hurt my throat as I stood, wiping my mouth.

“I... I got to go get help,” I stuttered, heading back towards the door. I entered the dining room slowly, I can only imagine how I looked, pale faced with vomit down the side of my mouth as I stared at the ground.

“Umm, Cam, are you alright,” Haley asked. I listened as all the talking seized and I captured the attention of everyone.

“It's Eric, he, he needs help,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Eric. Eric needs-” Suddenly a terrifying scream sounded out from the kitchen. Before I had even turned around Jason, Ray, and Charles had jumped up and ran into the kitchen, leaving the doors swinging. I followed behind them, going around the corner in the kitchen and, again, stopping. The guys sat, crouched, around the two bodies, as if wanting to help but not knowing what to do.

May now laid on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with Eric, the exact same process done to her as was with Eric. How was this even possible? How could someone kill her, put her in that position, and painstakingly cut that mark into her forehead? It’s not humanly possible! I backed out, feeling a sickness come up from my stomach. I couldn't look anymore. I closed my eyes, willing away the sickness, but May's empty, dead eyes intruded, as if I was staring into them. I watched my feet from then on as I left the kitchen again, intent not to close my eyes. The rest of the family was right outside the door, waiting to know what happened.

“Don't let the kids see,” was all I said as I parted through the small crowd and sat down, my head in my hands. I felt someone rubbing my back gently, and small whispering. I looked to see Haley was the one next to me, looking at me obviously concerned for me. Behind her were some of the small cousins, in front being Jack. I looked at him sadly, he was an orphan now...

The relatives tried calling nine one one, but considering this was a winter cabin in the middle of the season, they weren't sure how long it would take for the police to get there. Until then everyone had been trying to comfort me, they thought that I knew something because I went in there with May. Truthfully I was just, if not more, confused and clueless then they were. They had spent almost an hour, but now they understood nothing would result in it. As everything started to slow down and grow quiet, I heard the uncles discussing the inevitable, who. Who could have done this type of thing, but no matter how much they discussed it, there was no possibility of anyone doing it. The most logical thing the group came up with was that Eric faked his death, killed May, then truly killed himself, but we all knew that was impossible still.

Dawning on seven thirty, the decision was made that it was best to split into groups and explore the house, just in case. Reluctantly I went with Ray, Haley, and her mother and brother, to explore the west wing, where most of the kids would be staying.

The Talisman

In the other end my aunts and mother sat in the old chairs, chatting about marriage and kids and things to come. Then in the middle the cousins and other kids had congregated around the large fire place, and were much quieter since most of them were still small and shy. I was just making my way over to my mom when someone ran up to me, giving me a fierce hug. I laughed as I saw Haley's gleaming face looking up at me.

“Hey, what are you doing here,” I asked, still lightly laughing.

“I guess your mom was inviting some family friends and we made the cut.”

“I'm glad! Now I won’t be close to as bored as I normally would be,” I exclaimed. She giggled, her red brown hair gleaming in the light of the fire. Even though she was my age, fifteen, she was a good two or three inches shorter than I was. She was fit to, but not exactly skinny, like most of the stick like girls I knew.

“You got to see the basement of this place! It’s filled with all this awesome stuff!”

“Of course, but maybe later Cam, I think we're gonna eat soon,” she said, releasing me from her grip. As if on cue, my uncle Eric came out, announcing that he had finished making dinner.

I ended up sitting between my mom and my Uncle Ray, he was the oldest of my uncles, and ever since he had been widowed he had been surprisingly quite. He now had a wild mop of black hair as well as a leather jacket that smelled profusely like smoke. Although now he seemed quiet and slightly depressed, he was still a great person, and one of the few I went to for advice. My mom was totally opposite though, despite them being siblings, she was exciting and loud, and would often occupy herself with adrenaline pumping activities. She laughed and talked loudly with her sisters, almost ignoring the amazing meal Eric had cooked. It was fortunate Eric had the guts and energy to go into the entrepreneur business, starting a high end catering company. Now a days it seemed his goal was to make his whole family fat on his cooking.

Across the table from me sat Jason, Ray's son. He was also on the quiet side but was still an active eighteen year old teen. He talked under his breath to the girl sitting next to him, his girlfriend, Riley. I silently watched their conversation, he would say something in between bites and she would usually respond by laughing to herself or blushing, or occasionally make a remark back to him. She was pretty nice from what I knew of her, which wasn't much really, considering she usually kept to herself.

I got tired of their little back and forth talk and threw a glance farther down the table. Haley was sitting on the end of the table, next to her mom who sat at the head of the table. It was strange how their one family seemed to just blend into ours, despite not being blood related. Between our mom’s great friendship and me and Haley's... relationship, they were magically fused into our family. Suddenly Haley caught my eye, smiling shyly. I looked down, blushing, as I realized I had zoned out staring at her. I tried looking around the rest of the table, taking a silent role call to occupy myself. First were the group of sisters and sisters in law, my mom, Aunt Jean, Aunt May, and Aunt Amelia. Then myself, Ray, James, and Riley. Next was Uncle Charles and Uncle Will, sitting next to Haley's older brother, who was practically my brother, Brandith, followed by Haley and her mom. A few feet away was a smaller table, occupied by all the smaller cousins, all of which were between five and nine.

So here we all sat, in the cozy dining hall of the big cabin, enjoying each other and socializing under the light of the huge chandelier above. Well, wait, we were missing someone, who? I did a double take, looking around the table. It was Eric who was still missing. I dismissed it though, he was probably still in the kitchen, cleaning or whatever. Suddenly it felt cold, a searing cold on my chest, right where the pedant hung. I clutched it, pulling it off my sternum as quickly as possible. I looked around, seeing if anyone had noticed. James gave me a quick glance, but then continued talking to Riley, but I found Haley giving me a quizzical look. I ignored it, trying to look like nothing had happened. As I let the talisman fall back against my chest it only felt cool, not the burning cold it had been a moment ago. How strange...

As the evening continued, it wasn't until six or so that the others noticed Eric's absence. We knew that Eric would be punctual in serving desert as soon as everyone was done, but we had sat for ten minutes waiting for him to come out with no results. A strange silence finally settled over the group when May, Eric's wife, stood, announcing that she was going to go look for Eric. I stood to, ready to get up and do something and escape the boredom of silence. The kitchen was just in the next room over, through a set of swinging doors.

Oldie but not so Goodie

I think we can all look back at our own pieces with disgust sometimes, its just part of being an author. That being said, I think there's a distinct feeling of pride as well, one that we should all learn to feel when looking at past work. It's part of growing as a writer and improving ourselves. Now, it's easy to just say, 'hey, learn to appreciate your writing,' and then move on without proving it myself. In an attempt to show you though, I'm going to do a few appreciation posts of my own, throwing it back four or five years to my first serious short story. It's not great, hell I wouldn't even call it good, but I'm still proud of it to this day, and that's why I'm going to post it for y'all. Enjoy!

The Talisman

Slowly, cautiously, I entered the room. My eyes were useless in the absolute darkness of the room. Blindly I reached out, feeling around. My nerves were on edge, not being able to see anything around me. Where was the darned thing? It should be around here somewhere...

A soft strand brushed against my hand, yes! There it is! I grabbed the beaded metal chain and gave a yank. With a click and a sudden flash of light the room lit up, the single light bulb was right in front of my face and brought tears to my eyes with its brightness.

“Cam,” a voice came hollering down the stairs, “you find the stuff yet?”

“Just gimme a second mom,” I shouted, rubbing my eyes. I looked around, adjusting to the light now. The bare floored basement was full of junk and nick-nacks, everything covered in a fine layer of dust. There were snow shoes, an old ax for fire wood, some boots, and some skis leaning up against the wall. Swiftly I grabbed the skis, but it was difficult getting all three pairs in one trip. After a couple attempts I gave up, taking only the first two pairs up first. The wooden stairs creaked perilously as I ascended to where my mother stood at the doorway.

“Did you find all three pairs?”

“Ya mom, don't worry. I just got to make a second trip for the last pair.”

“You know Cam, you should get a better look down there, your grandfather was quite the antique collector before he passed,” she suggested, a mischievous hint in her voice. I gave a laugh,

“Really mom? You want to steal from your diseased grand dad?”

“Its not stealing, just inheritance”

“Ya mom, you tell your self that.” I hefted the skis up over the last step and handed them to her, then descended back down the ominous creaking steps. Now that I looked around, there was some interesting stuff laying around. A Buddha statue, a old samurai mask, a miniature totem pole in the corner. Man, I wish I had talked to my grand dad more!

I inspected the shelf next, on the dusty shelves were some more small statues as well as the occasional jewel which I pocketed. I explored the other rooms of the huge basement, each room filled with its own mini treasures. I'm sure the relatives would love all this stuff.

There was one long hallway that ran the length of the whole building, doors every few feet on each side, then one at the end.

After the first three doors or so I got bored, sure all the stuff was cool but it was repetitive, statues mostly, with the occasional group of gems or coins. It wasn't until the last room that my curiosity was peaked. The door swung open to reveal a large collection of many different sized safes and vaults. I walked the perimeter of the room, testing the handles of each one. With lessening enthusiasm I found each one locked. Just as I was about to give up hope one small one laying on the floor opened with ease. I swung the small door open, eager to see its contents.

I stared in horror, was that really what I thought it was? The reason it was open was because a bony hand was wedged in so that it wouldn't close fully. I gave a small laugh, of course, what was I thinking? It was a fake of course, where would grandpa get a real human hand? I removed the prop and then rummaged through the other contents, they were mostly necklaces and rings, but nothing stood out. All except for one, its silver thread weaving through the skeletal fingers of the prop. In the bleached palm of the hand lay its talisman, a strange man-beast carved from a dark wood, its eyes dark gemstones carved so that they fit perfectly into the sockets of the little creature.

It didn't seem to differ too much from the other jewelry, but somehow, I was just drawn to the little thing. Ever so carefully I unwound the cord from the fingers and lifted the necklace into the air. The orbs now gleamed in the dim light, I felt transfixed at its suddenly mystical appearance. Quickly I put it around my neck, tucking it under my shirt. I felt the cold shape of the figure against my chest, but it felt good.

By time I got back upstairs, everyone was pouring into the large winter cabin. The living room was warm and pleasant, filled by many friends and family. It’s strange how the room had naturally separated though. On the far end were all my uncles in a group, talking and laughing loudly. 

Ending the Script

Greg;

I fell into Bill, thinking we were gonna die for sure.

Bill;

I said to Greg, ‘jump! We have to jump!’

[Greg slides his hands down, now holding Anthony by the wrists]

Greg;

It was madness, I knew that, but we had to jump. Ya know how they always say that your life flashes right before you die? Well in that moment, when the two of us jumped out of the crashing chopper, carrying nothing but armed to the teeth, I felt like I remembered everything. I remember way back when I was a kid-

[Anthony suddenly turns around]

Anthony;

Hey! I felt that!

Bill;

What? Felt what?

Anthony;

You reached you hand into my pocket! You were trying to rob me!

Bill;

No, sir, I wasn’t trying anything like that!

Anthony;

Sure you weren’t.

[Anthony takes a step back, now sizing up the two grubby looking guys]

Greg;

Please, I promise, we weren’t trying nothing.

Anthony;

What a bunch of bums. Have fun living on the streets.

[Anthony turns, storming off down the street]

Bill;

C’mon Greg! Why’d you mess it up?

Greg;

Sorry, guess I should’ve warned ya.

Bill;

No kidding! I could’ve swiped him so easy if you’d done it right!

Greg;

I know, bud, you probably could.

Bill;

Well. I guess I never thought I’d see the day you messed up a ruse. No lunch, no score-

Greg;

I never said that, now did I?

Bill;

Huh? You didn’t.

[Greg holds up a thick golden watch, letting it dangle in his hand for a second before shoving it back in his pocket]

Greg;

There’s a pawn shop right next to the salt and pepper, right?

Bill;

Uh… yeah, sure is. The Dime.

Greg;

Great, let’s get a move on then.

[Greg starts walking away, Bill close behind him]

Bill;

I know you’ve been doing this a bit longer than me, but I got to ask, why?

[Greg talks while continuing to walk]

Greg;

When he flashed his billfold I could tell he didn’t have much on him. At least nothing we could really use. But, when he was tucking his cash back away, I noticed the gold watch he was wearing. I don’t know how much it’ll cash in for, but it’ll be a hell of a lot more than his wallet.

Bill;

You’re a damn genius, you know that?

Greg;

Yeah, I do. I hope that Rueben is as good as you made it sound.

[Bill slowly smiles, then starts laughing]

Bill;

Oh don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be great!

On the Corner script

Bill;

Hey, sir, you wouldn’t mind sparing a bit of change would you?

Greg;

It’d be mighty nice of ya, and we can tell ya a story for your troubles.

Anthony;

Oh? You guys are homeless, I suppose?

Bill;

Yes sir, but not cause we can’t work or aren’t educated!

Greg;

It’s just hard for us to get jobs nowadays. We’re vets, from back in the day. Seen some pretty crazy stuff, we have!

Anthony;

You don’t say! You guys were over in ‘nam then?

Bill;

Yes sir!

Greg;

And we got some stories that could blow your mind, bud!

[Anthony, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, puts two bills in the upturned hat]

Bill;

Thanks a million, sir!

[Bill and Greg slowly stand up as they begin talking]

Bill;

So, should we tell him about the bamboo traps? That one was a real good story?

Greg;

No, no, no, we gotta tell him about the air raid! That one was the real kicker!

Bill;

Straight to the best with this guy, huh?

[Bills leans in close to Anthony, as if whispering]

Bill;

We don’t tell to many folks this one, it’s the most exciting one there is!

Anthony;

Really? You know I always wondered what it was like, but my dad’s a higher up and got me out of the draft before it even started.

Bill;

Oh it was a blast kid! But instead of me just telling you how it was, let me tell you a story.

[Anthony begins smiling and nodding enthusiastically]

Anthony;

Yeah! Go for it!

Greg;

Let me explain something to ya first, you see, back in the ‘nam days me and Bill spent most our time going through the jungle by foot. This one though, this was a special mission?

Anthony;

Special mission? What do you mean?

Bill;

It was our first aerial trip into hostile territory, an air raid, where we’d be dropped off by a chopper with a few others to take over a Charlie outpost.

Anthony;

Charlie?

Greg;

Code for the Kong’s, kid.

Bill;

But you see, this easy mission didn’t turn out to easy.

Anthony;

What happened?

[Bill swings behind Anthony, grabbing him shoulders tightly]

Bill;

Hell, kid, hell. Mortar fire, a stream of bullets, an anti-aircraft gun.

Greg;

Our chopper took too much damage, the thing shaking and rumbling like no other.

[Bill begins shaking Anthony vigorously]

Bill;

And suddenly, when it seemed like our chopper might actually touch down, the motor blew.

[Greg lurches forward, grabbing Anthony’s arms]

Scripts

I talk a lot about stories, poems, and movies, so there seems to be one big piece I'm missing here. Scripts. There are a lot of similarities to stories and dialogue, but the focus shifts a lot from trying to make the plot clear to trying to make the dialogue and interactions clear. Here's a bit of a script I wrote, more for feedback then teaching purposes, since I'm still learning a lot about scripts as well.

Setting; two middle-age men sit on the corner of a busy street in New York, 1975.

Bill;

So, you feeling like getting a nice lunch today? We could get a couple sandwiches down at the Salt and Pepper.

Greg;

I would, but I ain’t got the cash.

Bill;

Aww, that was sounding so good though! A nice warm Rueben or something. Those were always the best back in the day.

Greg;

Stop bringing it up. I’m hungry as hell too, but I ain’t had the cash for that in years, and you know that. Not all of us can find a job like you.

Bill;

Yeah, yeah, I know that. Just wishful thinking I guess.

Greg;

Well that’s good and all, but wishful thinking doesn’t put food in my belly or cash in my wallet.

Bill;

What about a guy like that? He can’t fill your stomach but something tells me he could give you some green.

[Greg leans forward, looking down the street]

Greg;

Real city slicker like that, I bet he could. He’s sure got a nice suit and a pair of shiny shoes.

Bill;

Let’s grab a few bucks then, yeah? Maybe pull the ol’ shoe shine on him?

Greg;

Nah, he’s a younger guy, late twenties I’d say. Too young and well-off to have seen any action. Let’s give him a story he’ll remember, ya?

Bill;

Story time it is then!

[Bill and Greg wait for the man to walk up to them. Bill pulls of his hat, holding it upward like a bowl]

Descriptions For Character

I've shown you guys before about how you should use descriptions to emphasize an emotion while building setting, but another good way to use descriptions and imagery is to improve on your characters. Here's a little excerpt for you guys. Think about the character and who she is, and then try to link that to the descriptions.

                The woman was a bust made by Michelangelo: her face was frozen, forever in a rocky stillness; every line was prominent and emphasized; every curve was artistic and seemingly made with purpose; her skin was chalky white, a stark contrast to her midnight black hair. And, like a statue, she sat at the wheel completely still, her hands at ten and two and her eyes looking out into the dark summer night. The only sound in the small two seating car was the patter of warm rain on the windshield and, underneath that, muffled almost, a soft murmuring. Unintelligible whisperings that just barely met your ear.

                The lone woman, breaking out of her stone-like stare, glanced over at the passenger seat. There was only a plain cardboard box, unmarked and unlabeled, covered in wooly navy blanket.

                The woman gazed at it for a while, her eyes only flickering to the road every second or two to correct her steering. Almost reflexively, the woman began reaching down with an angelic smoothness.

                Her hand over the clutch, only centimeters away from the box, it froze. For a moment it hung there, suspended in the air. Then, slowly, the hand drew back, instead going to the small ordainment that hung from the rear-view mirror.

                Dressed in a white gown and adorned with a ribbon was a small angel. It had two plush wings, its frayed string that held it up sprouting from in-between its shoulder blades. Coming off of its head was a small, hardly noticeable wire, the halo it used to hold up being broken off long ago. Although the small face of serenity –eyes closed and small smile on its face- was still well intact, its outfit was more than well worn, its sleeves splayed and its dress adorned with drab stains. In its hands was the ribbon that stretched across the angel’s body, the small, faded print saying ‘Believe in Miracles.’

                The woman spun the toy around, so that it faced her, then put her hands back on the wheel. The woman took a deep breath in through her nose, holding it there as she cocked her head back, before she let it slowly tumble out through her mouth. Gently she turned the wheel, pulling into a small parking lot. She cracked the door open, letting in the wash of rain and the rumble of distant thunder. 

Layering Scenes

Now, I've talked a lot about dialogue and it's importance. It's a vital aspect of just about any book, but that being said there are a lot of aspects that go into it and other tricks you can do with it. One really fun thing to do in your writing, especially when you feel your dialogue is to straight forward or doesn't get the point across enough, is to layer your scene. Add a second interaction, either conscious to your characters or not, that adds to their interaction and follows a similar motif. Take a look at this piece I did for example, and take note of the second interaction that happens and how it goes together with the dialogue.

“The doctor’s said you’d be alright,” Alex said over the noise of the heart monitor. Brody looked out the window into the small hospital waiting room, in which there was a lone woman sitting, back straight, chin up, clutching an old, faded pair of army fatigues like her life depended on it.

                “Not for long,” Brody said.

                “You’re alive, isn’t that what matters right now?”

                “Maybe,” Brody muttered.

                “We survived,” Alex said, “and I don’t care what comes next, that’s good enough for me.” The woman sitting in the window was visited by an even older, more faded looking doctor. The type of person who has the faint wrinkles and kind eyes that says he’s seen what this world has to offer, good and bad. He broke the news, his gaze never leaving that of the woman’s.

                “Alex, you don’t understand.”

                “No, Brody, you don’t understand,”

                “Alex! My lungs are done, you get it? Done! I have hours left before they die out-,” A fit of coughing over took him, sprinkling the hand that covered his mouth in blood.

                “For my lungs to kick out, here, now? You know what needs to happen next.”

                “A surrogate. You need your surrogate.”

                “Yes,” Brody said. Outside, the doctor handed the woman two or three dead medals to go with her army uniform. She sobbed, her small frame shaking rigorously with the fragility of a house of cards. She accepted the medals regardless; wiping a tear out of each eye before reaching out to take them. Without any further apologies or thanks, she left.

                “I… I never thought… I mean… I thought I would be able to live. I thought something like this would never happen.”

                “I know, Alex, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. And I have no right to ask anything of you.”

                “No,” Alex said, “I get it. I know what has to happen.”

Descriptions

One of the key points, as we all know, is your descriptions and imagery. Now, that can be a really fun aspect of writing, but the thing that most people fail to realize is that descriptions should be used in order to not only improve your story, but to move it along as well. What do I mean by that? Well, when you provide more in depth descriptions, it should provide one of three major things: further the understanding of your characters; further the plot of the piece; or create a better sense of setting or tone. Here are a few examples what I mean, try to get a sense of emotion and setting from the excerpts.

Anger

                The room was a shotgun spray of glass shards, all centered around one half destroyed bottle of Jack. Its opaque shrapnel was embedded in everything: the rugged and torn wallpaper that had been haphazardly painted over in some parts with a deep, deep red; the carpet that had been stained from the weathering of generations –deep browns, concerning maroons, and other suspicious yellows and greens- that were so long ago most didn’t care to remember anymore; and the flesh of the woman who’d been hit, her pale green eyes staring at the ceiling above. The empty bottle lay in a pool of her blood, like a gleaming glass castle in a scarlet moat.

Jealousy

                The frame was plain black, metallic and matte, making a perfect rectangle around the blackness that had once been a scene of two lovers. The glass cover was now shattered, a large crack going down the middle like lightning in the inkiness of a midnight thunderstorm. The top and bottom of the frame was layered, smothered in weeks upon weeks of dust, except for the sides. Both the left and the right of it was still shiny and full of clear fingerprints, being no stranger to late-night white-knuckled grips.

Happiness

                The book was plain for the most part: white cover; paperback spine; no intriguing design or eye catching patterns. Something about it though, this seemingly boring novel, drew you in and grabbed your attention. Maybe it was the way the sunlight gleamed off the golden lettering, giving it a warm feeling aura. Maybe it was the natural old book smell that drifted off its pages, throwing your brain back in time to late nights of reading and relaxation. Or maybe it was just the feel of its smooth matte cover and sun warmed pages. 

In Your Dreams

I think every writer knows that one of the biggest difficulties of coming up with new content is having the inspiration to come up with new and original ideas. Although those who consider themselves authors should be almost constantly creating new stories and editing old ones, a lot of times I think we find ourselves only writing new pieces when we're specifically inspired for that piece. That's a big difficulty, we, as creators, need to learn to push past that habit and start creating on a nearly daily basis, and one such way to do that is dreams.

Dreams are known for being crazy, terrifying, or beautiful. Sometimes they can be insightful, showing something about ourselves that we've subconsciously overlooked. All this is good and well, but my favorite feature about dreams is that they can be great starters for story ideas! On average, they're usually pretty fun and interesting, so they're easy to write about, and it's fun to retell the dream you so vividly remember and to change it however you want.

Now, if you're like me, you probably don't remember many of your dreams. That's why, although I don't personally do this myself yet, I would definitely recommend keeping a dream journal of some sorts. Every morning you can write down last night's dreams, recording what you remember before it fades away, saving it for later. It'll act as a sort of safe for story ideas, so that whenever you're feeling especially uninspired or facing some classic writer's block, you can just read through your own dreams and adapt one into a story!

I've done this once or twice myself, adapting dreams into stories, and for myself it worked pretty well actually!

The Usual Writing...

                Silently I came up behind her, my hand on the hilt of my gun. She barely came up to my knee caps as she sat there, her legs crossed. Her soft brown hair blew lightly in a non-existent wind, the little red bow moving with it.

                The basement was silent. A single hanging bulb flickered above the young girl’s head. As I slowly circled her, I could see her childish features. Her cheeks were full and blushed, while her nose and mouth were small and gently rounded.  Her big eyes stayed closed though, hiding the emerald green irises I was used to.

                “Carolyn?” I asked tentatively and quiet. I resisted the urge to hug her, to just hold her tight and tell her everything was going to be okay.

                I inched closer, reaching out my hand to her face.

                “Please, Carolyn, tell me you’re okay.” Then room went cold in only a second. Goosebumps went up my arm and chills crawled down my spine. Her eyes flickered open, revealing pure black orbs inside. Her mouth was now a cruel smile, the teeth had transformed into rows of white incisors.

                “I’m fine, daddy, I promise,” she said sweetly, her voice threaded with innocence. I choked down a sob as I brushed a stray hair off her face.

                “I’m so sorry, Carolyn,” I said, my voice cracking and soft, “I know you’re in there somewhere, Carolyn, but this isn’t you.” I could see her weight slowly shifting forward, towards me.

                “What do you mean, daddy? Of course it’s me, I’m Carolyn,” the thing said.

                “No, you’re not my little girl, you’re a monster, a demon,” I asserted, starting to feel hot tears down my cheeks, “and you took my little girl from me.” Without warning, she leapt onto me, digging her long nails into each shoulder with her feet on my chest. A dark, horse cackle erupted from her, echoing throughout the small basement and up the stairs. I had to remember; this was not my Carolyn. I pulled my handgun from its holster. This was not my Carolyn. I flipped off the safety. Not my Carolyn. I pointed it at her chest. Carolyn. I pulled the trigger.

                The blast left my ears ringing as the two of us went opposite directions. I stumbled backwards, running into the brick wall behind me. Carolyn went flying backwards, landing square on her back with a bullet hole straight through her heart.

                I let myself slide down to the dusty ground as I listened to her last waking moments, her breathing was labored and sounded as if she was gurgling water. I let myself cry as she took in her last wisp of air, then went still.               

                With the last amount of will power I had, I went over and picked up her lifeless body from the puddle of scarlet. Her eyes were wide open, but they were now a dull green without any vibrancy or emotion. I was glad, strangely, for at least I knew that in the end my Carolyn had been set free. 

The End

Dave awoke to the pungent smell of freshly stirred earth, and the sight of Alec’s face silhouetted by the starry night above. It was a calm, almost peaceful look. His eyes, his golden brown eyes, shone with a gleam of interest, resembling that of a dog when it cocks its head to the side.

                “Alec, what… what happened?” Without a sound, Alec stood up and hopped out of the grave.

                “Hey,” Dave cried out, trying to get up. Tightly tied around his wrists, ankles, and chest were straps, pinning him to the bottom of the plush coffin.

                “Hey, let me out of here!”

                Returning to the edge of the grave, Alec peered down with his satchel over his shoulder and a shovel in his hand. He reached into his bag, digging for a bit before pulling out a small, black device. He tossed the device into the grave, right into the corner above Dave’s head.

                “It’s a mic, so I can listen to what you have to say.”

                “Listen to what I have to say? I’ll tell you now, just let me out of this damn hole!”

                “No. That wouldn’t work. You have to die for it to work.”

                “For what to work?” Dave asked.

                “My experiment. I’m doing work on how people act in their last moments.”

                “Well you don’t have to actually kill me! Just… just let me out, I’ll answer any questions you have, I’ll help! Just let me out!”

                Smoothly, Alec dipped his foot into the grave.

                “Too late.”

                He kicked the top of the coffin, causing the lid to slam shut. With a look of utmost relief, Alec took a deep breath through his nose, then sighed, smiling. The sound of screaming was dull, masked by the thick coffin lid. And, thankfully, the dirt was much easier to put back on top of the coffin rather than digging it up. It was only a minute or two of scooping before the screaming was completely muffled by the layer of dirt.

                Alec stretched out, cracking his knuckles and neck, before reaching into his bag for one last thing. It was a black notebook, weathered and well used. Slowly, with a clear look of satisfaction, he began flipping through the pages. Each one was labeled with a page number, and at the top was a name clearly written in large blue ink, followed by a scribble of notes. He went through two pages, five pages, ten. It wasn’t until number thirty four that he came to a blank page.

                He pulled a plain blue pen out of his pocket and popped off the cap. In clear, neat writing, he began writing at the top of the page: ‘Dave G. – The Grave Robber’. 

The Grave Robber Continued

“Do you mind if I asked what happened? Or is that too much?”

                “They were murdered I believe, or at least that’s what I was always told.”

                “That’s… That’s terrible. I’m sorry I asked.”

                Another shrug.

                “Here,” Alec said, taking a sharp right onto one of the narrow side paths, “I think the grave is this way, if I remember right.” Dave let him walk ahead for a moment, watching him as he went.

                Alec, noticing he was walking alone, turned back to look at Dave.

                “Yes?”

                “Are you alright?” Dave asked.

                “Yes, why?”

                “That just seems, I don’t know, kind of-“

                “Traumatizing?” The two men stared at each other for a moment, Dave trying to read what Alec could possibly be thinking. Alec’s expression was just frustratingly vague though, a fogged up window to what lied beneath the surface.

                “Ya,” Dave said, “traumatizing. That’s the word.”

                “Do I seem ‘traumatized,’ to you?”

                Dave gaped for a second, opening his mouth only to close it, afraid to say the wrong thing.

                “Well, no, no,” Dave said, readjusting the bag on his shoulder, “just nervous is all. You seem nervous.”

                “Well I am, especially with the stories that have been going around. So let’s just get the job done, alright?”

                “Of course.” Dave hurried forward, catching up with Alec as they continued through the forested grave yard.

                With Dave’s bright flashlight leading them, it was only a few minutes before they found the grave they were looking for. The tombstone was a bright marble rock, smooth and new, with minimalistic engravings. It was in a small clearing near the back of the cemetery, one that was overgrown with weeds, many of the other graves being too weathered to even read. Behind them was the now pitch black path, and fifty yards to the sides and front was nothing but untamed forestry.

                “I hope your right about this guy,” Dave said, dropping the bag of shovels to the ground.

                “I am. He’ll have a good amount on him.”

                “Let’s get to work then.” With no other words they each took up a shovel and slammed it into the cold hard earth, beginning their work. In only a few minutes both were working up a sweat, puffing like steam engines in the frosty air. Nothing was more satisfying then when, after ten minutes of digging into the deep grave, Dave’s spade made a resounding thump.

                He smiled and stood up, stretching out his shoulders and back.

                “There we are, almost time to collect!” He looked over at Alec who seemed completely still, as if he was daydreaming.

                “Hey, bud, we’re here. Let’s get this done!”

                “Over there. A man.” Alec was still frigid, almost stuck in time, he was so still. His eyes were focused, wide and dilated.

                “Huh?” Dave turned around, glancing about the clearing, gripping his shovel a little tighter in his hand.

                “I saw him. He’s in the woods.”

                Intently, Dave looked into the woods at the edge of the clearing. He watched as the wind blew, ruffling the leaves and shifting the shadows. He hadn’t felt exposed until now, as he realized that they could be being watched from afar with ease.

                He listened to the wind. The sound of the rustling leaves.

                All was silent.

                There was no warning or pain when the shovel met the back of Dave’s head, as he fell to the ground quietly. 

The Grave Robber

“Well, it ain’t nothing’, I s’pose,” Dave smiled gently, revealing a pair of well-worn laugh lines. “Ya up for a bit of wanderin’ then?”

                “Do I have a choice?”

                “Nope!” Dave clapped him on the shoulder, then opened the car door in a burst of cold air. It was the type of cold that washes over you like a wave, freezing you quickly before settling deep in your bones.

                Dave walked around to the back of the truck, his breath steaming in short aired puffs. He tugged on his heavy woolen gloves before grabbing the burlap sack out of the cab, throwing it over his shoulder with the sound of clanging metal.

                “Let’s see if we can’t find your grave,” Dave said, coming back around to look at Alec. He was thicker then Dave had expected, still skinny, but even under his black Northface jacket you could see he had a bit of muscle on his wide frame. More now than ever, he was jumpy: twitching his leg; fiddling with his over the shoulder satchel; looking this way and that.

                “Come on, let’s get a’movin’ then.”

                “Alright.”

                Together they set off down the cobble path, side by side through the huge metal gates. As soon as they entered, the world turned a shade darker, the moonlight hidden by a thick canopy of trees that flanked the path.

                “Spooky, ain’t it?” Dave asked, nudging Alec with his elbow.

                “You sure you’ve never ran into anybody here?” Alec asked, clutching his bag. Dave cackled, a large sound that echoed through the whole yard, a cannon barrage compared to the cricket-filled silence before.

                “Ya worry too much, bud! If I tell you we’re good, then we’re good! And I’m telling ya, I’ve been going in an’ out of this county’s cemeteries for comin’ on forty years, and I’ve never seen another soul out here at this time a’night!”

                “Why?” Alec asked, nearly a whisper.

                “Hmm? Why what?”

                “Forty years. Why’ve you been doing this for so long?”

                Dave kept walking for a moment, saying nothing and shining his wide beam flashlight straight ahead. He shifted the bag on his shoulder, clearing his throat.

                “Well, ya see, I started when I was just a boy, about fourteen. My father had passed just a few years before, wh

Dave stopped, taking a slow breath in through his nose.

                “I don’t know why my mother let him wear it around, but she did. All I know is that when my step dad gave in to a brain tumor, I was getting my damn ring back.”

                The two men continued walking down the dark path in silence, Dave looking straight ahead with a knot in his jaw and Alec continuously scanning left to right.

                “You really hated your step father, didn’t you?”

                “You could say that, ya.”

                Another moment of silence.

                “Why, did you have someone like that?” Dave asked.

                “No. I never knew my parents.”

                “Oh,” Dave said. Alec simply continued walking and looking around with paranoia, showing no sign of indifference. “I’m sorry to hear.”

                Alec only shrugged.