Narration

[Falcon2001]

"That's pretty fucked up." she said, blowing cigarette smoke out - her eyes kept their subtle glaze.

 

He nodded, leaning back in his chair, relaxing a bit. "I know. It sounds weird to say, but that's just how it has been for the last five years." the food sat between them, forgotten behind the subject at hand.

 

"And you haven't gone to see a doctor or anything...a shrink?" she said, leaning back as well. He shrugged. "Not enough time and they'd probably pump me full of drugs. It's not more than an annoyance, really - I mean, you get used to it. People will get used to just about anything." He took a half-hearted bite of his pasta, continuing to talk around it. "Did you know that there was a guy who lived for years with a hatchet embedded into his skull?"

 

"You're shitting me."

 

"Dead serious. The guy had it strike him while he was working in his shop. Fell off a shelf or something - he didn't trust doctors, so he just left it in."

 

The girl stared at him in a vague sort of disbelief. "So what, did he die?"

 

"Nope, just kept going. Had three 'episodes' over the next four years," he paused, adding air-quotes around episodes. "and then finally his wife convinced him to see a doctor about it. The doc was amazed, made front-page news in medical journals. Turns out it severed an unused portion of his brain and it just re-routed everything around it. Guy was in perfect order aside from the steel axe."

 

"So what happened, he just walked around with it all sticking out?"

 

"Nah, he had already removed the handle a long time ago and the doctors were able to remove the rest of it without incident. Lucky bastard's still alive as far as I know."

 

"You're a strange fucker, Damien." she said, shaking her head.

 

He laughed. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

 

They ate in silence for a little bit, the little restaurant filled with people mumbling over their food, the murmur of humanity recharging after a long day. She spoke first, still poking at her fish. "So how much detail does this voice go into?"

 

"Not a whole lot, the guy's awfully overdone sometimes, I just heard some line about the murmur of humanity. Weird shit like that. Makes it hard to zone out, because he generally starts on some crazy observation about my surroundings."

 

"So it's a he?" she asked.

 

"Yeah, definitely. Some sort of older english gentlemen. Like the kind of guy you'd imagine reading the stories from Reader's Digest out loud in some book club."

 

"Wow. Freaky shit."

 

"What, book clubs?"

 

She scoffed, coughing. "No! Just this whole...thing." she gestured grandly with her arms. He shrugged again.

 

"You take this in stride pretty well, Damien." she said, pointing at him. "You should be pretty freaked out."

 

"I could say the same about you, Amy. Ain't every day a guy comes out and says he hears voices."

 

"Nah, I've heard that one before. You're not the violent type, I'm not really worried about it."

 

"What makes you so sure I'm not going to cut you up in an alley and leave you for the police to find?"

 

She shrugged, laughing. "You wouldn't have split the tab."

[Wyvern]

You've definitely grabbed my attention with the beginning of this story, Falcon. :-) The dialogue is very fluid, and the exchanges are witty without being unrealstic. There were plenty of interesting details in the dialogue, and the scene that you set is certainly disturbing. One thing that I'd really like to see is a few more details for the characters themselves - we know that she has a subtle glaze in her eyes, but he's kind of a blank canvas at this point.

 

Anyway, great dialogue, I love how confident and comfortable she still is with him at the end of the exchanges. :-) On a side note, it might be a good idea to either move this story to the Scarlett Pen or to mention that it has strong language in it in the subtitle. Noone has requested that it be moved so I've left it here, but it never hurts to be considerate. :-)

 

Thanks for sharing this!

[Disco-neck Ted]

Nice. Smooth and readable, very entertaining. I really enjoyed the way the information is revealed rather than stated.

 

Liked this:

"So what happened, he just walked around with it all sticking out?"

I can hear her saying this, the rise and fall of her voice.

 

And this:

Some sort of older english gentlemen.

Cool random detail.

 

Snickered here:

"What, book clubs?"

In fact, all of it is strong. I'd keep reading.

 

After sinking into the story, however, there were one or two minor distractions that nudged me away from total immersion.

The guy had it strike him while he was working in his shop.

People are often imprecise and convoluted in speech, but even with that in mind, this stands out as different from the rest of Damien's word flow. Perhaps that was intentional? Hard to tell in something this brief without more to compare it to, but it seemed worth mentioning in case it wasn't planned. Easy to ignore, regardless.

 

Had three 'episodes' over the next four years," he paused, adding air-quotes around episodes. "and then finally his wife convinced him to see a doctor about it.

I liked what you accomplished here with the visual, but the punctuation and word choice seemed a bit off, with the repetition of the word 'episodes' making things extra complicated given that it should be in quotes the second time as well. Would breaking out of speech to description and then re-entering work better with dashes, maybe?

 

So, no problems of note and lots to like. Looking forward to seeing more.

[Falcon2001]

"So you seriously hear a voice?" she asked, learning forward a little, swaying on the barstool.

 

"Yeah." he said, sipping his drink. His distaste for her continued to grow as he wiled away the evening drinking, but he hadn't been with a woman in a long time, and that does strange things to a man. An angry look passed across his face, and then it was gone, mumbling replacing fury.

 

"Stupid voice can go fuck off." he slurred and looked over at the girl. She looked better every drink, he decided, and downed the shot. Something deep within him stirred in disgust, but he forced it back into the haze and kept talking.

 

"So...you like... you're an artist?" he said, ignoring her previous query. She laughed. "Yeah, sorta. I mean, it's not really like...you know...an 'art' job. I paint signs for stores and shit like that. Piecemeal work, my own stuff's much better."

 

He laughed dryly. "I never was any good at art. Just shit like math, and I got sick of that pretty quick." he stopped abruptly, looking around for the bartender. A large man in a black leather jacket was standing right next to him, arms folded.

 

"Sorry, son, but you're gettin' eighty-sixed. You and the lady." Damien growled at the guy, but made no move. The girl kind of slid off the stool and started for the door, Damien followed her quietly. As they walked out the door, the girl swatted at a rack of newspapers, knocking them to the floor. The bouncer yelled something at them, but the two had already made it out to the street, the cold air hitting them like a wall.

 

Suddenly Damien felt sick. His head hurt, his eyes burned, and he felt like someone had taken a piss in his chest. He stumbled and fell, landing uncomfortably on his elbow. The girl turned and stared at him, the drink hazing her senses to the point of dullardness.

 

"Hey...Damien, man. Get up." she said, still staring with her mouth kind of half-open. Damien swore and rolled over, managing to somehow spin the world twice in the process. "Give me a second."

 

Acid tore through his throat and he vomited into the gutter. He thought he could recognize bits of penne noodles from the earlier meal, but he wasn't exactly searching. "I feel better now." he said, using a nearby lightpost to drag himself up.

 

"Man you look like shit." she said, throwing his arm over her shoulders and ignoring his feeble protests. Together, they staggered down the street, the cobblestones proving to be a fairly inexorable foe.

 

"What the fuck does inexorable mean?" Damien yelled suddenly, causing the girl to stare at him again. He fell silent, plodding along. "It's...like a wall, I think. I'm not sure."

 

"Thanks."

 

"Listen, man. You shouldn't drive. Crash at my place tonight." she offered, a half-smile appearing on her ruddy face. "Wouldn't want you to wreck your nice new car."

 

Damien paused, a sobering thought crossing his face.

 

He nodded.

[Appy]

Curiouser and curiouser...

 

Would be very interested in what happens next. I really like how you deal with dialogues and all images are vivid in my mind.. gross *giggles*

 

Do continue

 

PS: Good to see you writing again

[Falcon2001]

Damien awoke, blinking a few times.

 

"My bed is blue." he said cryptically, staring at the sheets. "This isn't." Suddenly he looked over, seeming to realize the other inhabitant of the bed. A distasteful look crossed his face, followed by a grimace. "It'd be nice if you shut the fuck up sometimes, asshole." he mumbled to nobody in particular, staring at the girl.

 

Her breath was measured and deep - she slept still. He looked like he had a headache, and his gaze flicked around the room quickly, taking in the scenery. The room looked like a painting accident gone wrong. Easels stood around the place, holding paintings in various states of dismissal. Clothing littered the floor, including his, and the little furniture in the room was covered in various knick-knacks.

 

Making efforts to be quiet, he snuck from the bed and began dressing, hoping not to wake her. According to the eerie green glow of the alarm clock that luminated the place, it was almost 6 am. A grey light filtered through the curtains, adding to the gloom. He stood over her for a second, but then turned and let himself out into a narrow hallway.

 

Creeping down the hallway he passed a few doors and made his way into a living room. Tiptoeing to the door he reached for the handle only to hear a cough behind him. He spun, finding a short woman in a suit-coat sitting in a chair smoking.

 

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, momentarily disoriented.

 

"Excellent question, but this is my apartment." she replied, calmly. "You're the guy she brought home last night, I assume?" Damien nodded and she took another deep drag from the cigarette, her lipstick leaving a red ring around it.

 

"She certainly has been slumming it lately." the girl said to nobody in particular, staring at the window. "She's not doing all that well. But since I'm catching you sneaking out at the crack of dawn, I assume you're not exactly the caring type." Her eyes burned holes into him and he looked away, staring at the wall.

 

"You left your jacket on the couch." she said, rising from her seat and pointing at a half-hearted looking piece of furniture. Without saying anything else, she walked past him and out the door, leaving him alone. He grabbed the jacket, put it on, and left. She was nowhere to be seen.

[Falcon2001]

There was a knock at the cubicle. Damien turned, staring dully at his manager.

 

"Can I help you?" he asked dryly, assuming the dull-eyed stare he saved for meetings such as this. His manager sighed and took a sip of coffee.

 

"You heard about the Perl project going around the office, right?" he asked, staring around the desk area. Damien kept his desk meticulously neat and orderly, a side effect of the droning desk job. Damien nodded absently, still staring.

 

"I'm going to be assigning you to the project. You haven't had much in the way of workload lately, so this'll help bring the project back up to standards. We'll send you an email soon with the details of it and the password for the CVS repository." Damien's stare answered the sentences better than he could have.

 

"Alright, we'll be seeing you." his manager turned and walked away, shaking his head a little. Damien shrugged and turned back to his computer, where an intricate dance of ASCII characters mapped out a game. He played for a few minutes then grumbled to himself and killed the program manually, the window blinking out of existence without a trace.

 

"Hey bud, how's it going?" one of his coworkers popped his head in, flashing a grin. Damien turned around, and stared at him. "Same as always. What's up?"

 

"How'd the date with that chick go, eh?" the guy asked, grinning. Damien shrugged. "Eh, so-so. I wasn't that impressed." He fiddled with a pen, spinning it in his hand. "Art chicks are all the same."

 

The coworker shrugged. "You coming to the party tonight?"

 

Damien raised an eyebrow. "On a fucking wednesday?" he leaned forward a bit.

 

A shrug, again. "That one chick from accounting's leaving to go out of town, so we're holding a party."

 

"I might make it. Save me a seat." Damien coughed and turned back to his monitor. "Sorry, I got a lot of shit to get done. Just got put on the Perl project."

[Mardrax]

Very nice... vivid... noiresque, almost.

In fact, you've got me picturing this in black and white, actually hearing someone Max Payne-ish reading the narration 0_o

and awaiting what he'll be telling next

 

keep it up

[Falcon2001]

"Attention shoppers, we have a special today on meats! Ask your friendly butcher for more details, but hurry over! This deals ends soon." The voice spoke out over the intercom, voiceless and hollowly happy. Damien checked over his list, reading it off in a low voice.

 

As he walked through the halls, he saw a woman in a tight red blouse looking aimlessly at the wall of soda. Her breasts pushed against the fabric, and she wore a white miniskirt that spoke louder than words. Damien sidled nearby, his gaze flickering across the juices until he found a satisfactory one. Grabbing it, he put it into the basket and then reached into his pocket.

 

The woman's gaze seemed stoically fixed on the soda as he pulled forth a quarter. With a practiced flick, he sent it spinning at the ground, where it flipped and then rolled past her. The woman in the red shirt looked down, saw the quarter, and bent over, exposing lacy black panties. Damien leered for a second, then walked off, a look of mild disgust on his face.

 

Picking the shortest line, he dropped his basket on the conveyor and picked a point at random to stare at while waiting. Picking up a candy bar in a shiny foil wrapped, he tossed it into the basket, waiting.

 

"Hi, how are you doing today?" the clerk beamed, flashing a smile at Damien that showed perfectly straight white teeth.

 

"Alright." Damien replied, continuing to look down. He fished his walled out of his pocket with a smooth motion, flipping it open and retrieving his debit card. "Debit alright?" he asked.

 

"Sure thing!" the clerk said, his smile insistent and mask-like. "Just swipe your card through the machine there and punch in your PIN when it asks!" The man's voice had an irritatingly saccharine tone to it. Damien finished his transaction.

 

"Hey, didn't we used to go to school together?" the guy asked. Damien's arm tensed, gripping the card reader. "Yeah. Weird to see you here." he said, meeting the guy's gaze. "How you doing?"

 

"Oh alright, can't complain. This place isn't bad and I'm earning alright money. Can't beat the huge selection of stuff I get on discount either, this place has everything. How about you?"

 

"Software development over in midtown, it's an alright gig." Damien shrugged, replacing the wallet in his back pocket.

 

"We should totally hang out some time, man. I mean, we didn't really do much in high school, but yeah." the guy said, kind of trailing off a bit. The wall of saccharine cracked for a second, and beneath, a twisted mix of apathy and hopelessness lurked. Damien smiled.

 

"Yeah, I'll call you up sometime. Sounds good." He grinned widely and scooped up his purchases, walking away. The cashier's grin faltered for a second. "Wait, how do you have my number?"

 

Damien kept walking, a smirk on his face.