Not much today, just felt like I should put something up. So here's one of (Many) the strips of A Writer's Block
Alright, Alright, Alright! Here we go, the first part of the first chapter. (granted, this is like the third version of the first chapter, but I digress). THIS IS NOT THE FULL THING! Just a disclaimer. There would be no fun in putting that much text up anyway.
"So, without further gilding the Lilly, and no further a do..."
Here it is!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter I
First rule of doing anything against the status quo:
Don’t get caught.
I pondered this obvious revelation as I sat in a remarkably uncomfortable chair outside an equally unremarkable office. I tried to scratch my wrist where the handcuffs rubbed rough against skin. I failed, rolling my eyes and sighing indignantly. I caught movement on the outer edge of my peripherals and turned to see the uniformed boy in blue staring at me with an amused smile on his pudgy face.
I’m not being stereotypic, he was pudgy.
Instead of giving him my typical scowl, I simply looked back at him and smiled. Administration had decided it was in the best interest of everyone involved to have a uniform “keep an eye on me”. So considering the powers that be felt the need to make me an example by using a peace officer on a minor, I found it within my duties to have some fun with him.
I dropped my smile and I reached inside my coat. The cop went for his taser. Even with the cuffs limiting my movement, I had my hand in my pocket before the chubby guy had his near his belt. By the time he had his “weapon” drawn I had my limb back out. His face went blank and stared at what I had fished out.
I gave the poor guy my best grin and asked as innocently as possible, “Gum?”
Before he had a chance to respond or get the red laser sight of the stun gun off of my throat, a rather annoyed voice came from behind the doorway.
“He can come in.” I got up without a word and walked around the corner and the two feet to the chair in the afore mentioned office.
It was your standard public school office. Lots of wood furniture, wood bookshelves organized with books no one ever read, even more wood knick-knacks, one of those overused and ineffective inspirational posters, and the pungent stench of burnt coffee. Everything you would expect from a Vice Principal‘s abode. I knew the drill by now- I calmly walked into the workplace, sat down in front of the desk and waited. Facing me on the desk was a small brass name plaque that read: Vice Principal Valdez.
I put on my happy face and did my best to annoy the man more than I already had , “Hiya Marty! How’s every little thing? Me? Oh I’m great. Thanks for asking. Got a little twang in my wrist, but otherwise I‘m have a fantastic day! Yourself?”
He ignored me, instead he kept his eyes where they had been since I had entered his office: looking over a moderately large file- My file. I continued to wait as he thumbed through the papers.
Martin Valdez was upwards of thirty years old, which was not bad for a VP. Average height and build, he looked like he belonged in a kakis and a cheesy tie. Id bet dollars to donuts he came out of the womb in some. His Hispanic features were mostly prominent, but by his lean physique and lighter skin color, his mother was probably white. It was just a guess though.
Oh, and he’s a colossal tool.
The silence stretched. I kept sitting impatiently, Valdez quiet sans the occasional flipping sound of paper. Five mints turned into ten, and still I sat. I was just about ready to throw out some words that shouldn’t be used in a school when he calmly set the novel that was my dossier down, pulled one sheet from the top out, and began to read. All without so much as a hello. Which was just rude.
“Dean Ulysses Archer. Sophomore-Age: sixteen. Parents: None- Ward of the State of Texas. Office Referrals: twenty five- Now twenty six- and over one hundred other write-ups, faculty complaints, Tardy slips, and school safety violations.” He set the file down calmly and his eyes moved up to mine at last, betraying his neutrality.
Valdez loved this part. The stare down. He would do his best to get a rise out of me so he could nail me with some other ridiculous charge or accusation, and I would do one of two things in return:
One: I would do everything in my teenage power to piss him off, causing grey hairs, pulsating skull veins, and-my personal favorite- speechlessness.
And then there was Two: Nothing. I could just sit here and take whatever underhanded and subtle insults he threw my way, shrug it off and smile. Both techniques were tried and true to work, and I've used each pretty effectively in my time at Tanic. But today i decided to mix it up-
I thought I'd try a bit of both.
I had lived with lonelyness before, the life I lead, I didn’t really have a choice. But some nights were harder than others. Some nights the dinner of chopped ramen and burnt Spaghetti-o’s just wasn’t enough. Some nights the emptiness I felt threatened to eat me up whole, swallow me down into the deepest, darkest pit of myself. Some nights all I wanted was a kind voice to whisper that everything was going to be alright, that everything I was going through was going to be worth something in the end. Some nights I just wanted somebody there that gave a damn-not to talk or even listen, just someone…there.
I guess that’s one of the reasons why me and the Almighty don’t talk anymore.
Living with that type of pain though, you find ways to harness it…or hide it. I was getting pretty good at the latter. I would take all the hollowness I felt and put it into one, concise ball of will. I could then do whatever I wanted with it. It would be easy, hell, it would make me fell a whole lot better. I could do it, and I’ve done it before.
But not tonight.
Tonight I would put into practice the most time honored tradition of single-self-loathing teenagers everywhere:
Brooding.
It’s hard to explain-and even harder too understand-but every once-in-a-while I just wanted to leave the pain alone. Let it run it’s course.
My dingy apartment was quiet, clean as it could be all things considered, and the cockroach problem was being dealt with. My computer was off, my phone unplugged from the wall and off the reciver for good measure. My window and door were locked, dead bloted, and that stupid useless chain that is standard on all apartment doors was latched. I was sealed away from the outside world and as safe as I was ever going to get.
So I kept a few candles lit in my room, curled into my stupid bed, and listened to the rain smack against the windowpanes, hoping silently that all this pain would be worth it.
"Life is a puzzle, every piece fits together to create who we are, what we do, how we feel. Every experience shapes us into who we will become I began my life as a blank slate...I'd been so eager to remember, to grow up and experience life...But in that one moment, I wished I could go back to that blank slate. When life was... easier."
_____________________________________________________
Its been raining a lot here lately, and oddly, I haven't minded all that much. Me and Texas usually get along so well because I'd rather be sweating my ass off than freezing it off, but the days of muggy drizzle that have been happening have been a subtle reprieve for me. Not that I want it to rain all the time now, it just feels like Texas is right here with me now, every step. I realize just how crazy that sounds, but thats what it feels like. The way the storms would whip up out of nowhere, as Texas rain usually does, or the type of wind that came with it: Warm but soft, bringing thick tears of water with it. And as the torrents of foggy wind and curtains made of misty droplets flew in viscous wisps, I couldn't help but look up and smile, a small current running down my spine.
People don't realize just how magnificent this place is- The world I mean. Everyone seems so concerned with their own little reality shows and intersecting webs of their own lives to just stop. To look, and listen. No one really just watches anymore, and sometimes, thats what we really need. Like how a cool breeze coming off of a lake can be like a kind, reassuring voice in your ear. Or how the half-light before the dark and the silence it brings eases every muscle, as if we're being called home. Or how it seems like our hearts rise as the sun does, every inch of us warming at the sight of that burnt sky.
People don't do that enough.
Much like the loneliness that never left, anger was abundant. It scared me, the sheer amount of it all. It made me think of how far I could be pushed until I didn’t care about anything other than setting the hellfire inside of me free. It was the kind of maddening feeling that makes your chest shake, your jaw clench, and forces you to shut your eyes so you can think straight. It wasn’t as simple as a steady darkness in my heart, no- that I could control. It was something much more powerful, a primal force that just felt...
right. Some part of me knew that letting my anger out wouldn’t help anything, but that same voice echoed that it didn’t care.
Anger is one of the strongest emotions that we as humans can feel, it’s the opposite of love. Most people think that hate is, but those of us who have felt pure, righteous anger know something different. It begs to be let loose, to be used until it is gone. All I wanted right then was to give in, let go, damned be the consequences. I could feel the fire welling up in my chest with every thought, every breath.
I could literally feel the sparks at my fingertips, and my vision was blurred. My jaw was tight, and my fists were clenched beyond white knuckles as I rumbled out, “Get. Out.
Now.”
"A lesson without pain is meaningless, for you cannot gain something without first sacrificing something in return. But once you have overcome it and made it you're own...
You will gain an irreplaceable Full-Metal Heart."
- Full Metal Alchemist, Chapter 108
_______________________________________________________
I just finnished the final chapter of the FMA manga on
One Manga.com and loved every second of it.
I love seeing characters grow and learn, especially when you grow with them. It is one of my favorite things about literature. Falling in love with imaginary people who you can relate to so much that they cease to be imaginary. They become a part of you, and live throughout your actions.
That's how you can tell great writing from just good writing. When you care so much about what and how something happens to the person (or non-person) that you live with them, and learn through each page. That's the true Fullmetalness.
I hope to create a Fullmetal character one day, but more so than that, I hope that Dean can become one. But one day at a time :)
Anyway, great story. Period. Thank you Hiromu Arakawa for the 9 great years of Full Metal Alchemist.
So tonight, instead of talking about my day or whatever it is you're
supposed to talk about in these things, I'll introduce you to Dean. He's a lot of things to me. He's me sometimes, others he's every friend I've had, once upon a time; he was my imaginary friend. But more than any of those things, he's a Guardian. If you're interested in what I mean by that, then I invite you to keep checking in on me, and him.
__________________________________________
I stared out from my rooftop as the sun neared the horizon, not a thought held in my head. I held my watch in my hands, opening and closing it absentmindedly. Warm Texas winds sifted around and above me, the last thermals carrying some sparrows up and away. I heard some scratching, and then Mal was next to me. He just sat there with me for a while, his purplish grey coat catching some of the sun's intense Spartan red rays. I saw him turn his small head to me, his golden eyes burrowing into my cheek. Without a word though, he turned back.
"You want to talk about what happened back there?" He asked neutrally. I didn't, but I knew that he wouldn't go away until I had. He sat there while I decided whether to answer him or not. His tail flicked impatiently.
"There was nothing you could have done Dean, you have to-"
"Tell that to her grave." I shot back, but there wasn't any conviction in it.
He snorted, but didn't press any further.
"I...I just don't get how she could have lost herself that much."
"She was looking for answers on who she was. On what was happening to her and why. She was just lost, and he gave answers to her."
“That’s a load of horse shit Mal, you and I both know that. You can’t go looking to someone else to find your self worth. You find it on your own. It doesn't mean a damn thing if it's handed to you, no matter who it's from. That’s what it means to find who you are.”
There was silence, but I saw the stupid cat smile.“So?...Who are you?”
It was my turn to smirk, and I coughed out a small laugh. “Hell Mal, I’m only seventeen, I don't have a clue.” I paused and looked out over my city, the final purple rays of the setting sun washing over the buildings and sky. I stood up, stuffing my pocket watch back into my coat. “But I have an idea of who I want to be. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
