Dawn Suprise

Extremely detailed first couple pages of something extremely long I'm in the progress of writing. No real plot details are given but i was curious what everyone thought of the basic tone of it.

-Awake-

The sudden shock; as abrupt as a gunshot in a quiet ballroom. Disrupting the sway of cotton; blowing in the cool breeze of an early morning. The perfect silence, as peaceful as the mountain air; interrupted by the avalanche of commotion and terror.  The screeching racket like the burning rubber of a car on its way over the bridge as it slowly spins its way out of control. Nothing seemed to slow it down; it was the supreme master of all it enveloped. The noise was growing louder by the second.

I couldn’t understand what was happening. I was too stunned to move. Why did the room tremor; was it just me? I tried looking around but I couldn’t see a thing. My senses were blinded by the bright wall of sound being hurled at me so suddenly. It was almost too much for me to handle. I was still; unable to move an inch. No matter how hard I squirmed and shook I couldn’t seem to shake it. I was pinned underneath the sheet, a prisoner in a mixed world of euphoria and angst.

Even louder now.

It was almost unbearable. The high pitch noise vaulted itself deep within my brain and itched at my senses. Clawing its way deep into my thoughts, controlling my emotions with a child-like glee. Tugging at my strings with such an ease of movement.  My thoughts crawled around, but were unable to move past the sound. It had constructed a wall in my mind, cutting me off to anything except its never-ending explosion of turmoil. It was too much. I couldn’t take it anymore. It had to stop, somehow. I had to do something.

-Click

-Silence

 Everything seemed covered in darkness. The moon outside was barely shining and the streetlights had yet to turn off. The shadows whisked around the room like dancers on stage, even the breeze took up an ominous tone. It whispered and laughed as it gently brushed the heat away from my exposed face. Something wasn’t right, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. That curse of a noise was finally gone for now, but I was still so confused.  I felt like such a stranger.  I knew I was where I should be, but what just happened? I couldn’t seem to figure it out.

 My senses were slowly coming back to me now.  I could hear busy men outside taking out the morning trash, running and scurrying house to house. Quickly hopping off the truck, grabbing the bins, and crashing them into the truck to make sure every last bit of trash was removed. How efficient for such a meaningless career. What a terrible life, I thought. That smell alone must be enough to make even the most experienced of men shudder; and not to even mention how early it has to be. Who would sign up for such a thing?

It must be somewhere around 6 am.

I could start to see a little better now. The slumbering sun finally decided to wake up, and the dancing shadows decided to retire until another night. I suppose not everyone was cut out for the whole, morning ordeal. I could faintly make up the outline of my ten year old husky laying against my bed. How on earth was she still sleeping?  I wish I could just sleep like her; all day without caring, what a life. So peaceful and unresponsive. So deeply entrenched in a dream I suppose. That is if I dogs have dreams. I wonder?

Then without warning it was back.

 That noise, so loud now; louder than before. I couldn’t move; I was paralyzed with fear. Fear and loathing for the only thing that I knew could ever awaken me. Awaken and keep me awake. Why did I make that purchase? Who would ever want such a damned tool and invention even in their home, or room nonetheless? Right next to my bed and it was blaring. I was angry, I was infuriated. How dare I have to be awake? Why me, why now? With a white hot disdain I throw my hand in the air, swinging with an unheard of velocity. And with a move even the most practiced of fighters couldn’t muster; I hit the off switch as hard as humanly possible.

Finally.

 Silence.

I knew I couldn’t just lay here. I was wide awake now, and the anger quickly evaporated into a sort of mopey depression. I wish I didn’t have to do this. Oh all the things I’d much rather be doing right now. I could spend the entire day painting. Painting a masterpiece of colors, a unique scene unlike anyone has set their eyes on before. Something so vibrant and stunning that even the greatest patrons would beg to glimpse for just a moment.

Or maybe I would write a song. A great symphony filled with all the instruments in the world. One to rival the great Bach and Mozart. One even they would like down from heaven on in jealousy. A grandly orchestrated piece that I could show to the world. I would be rich, I would be successful, and I would be able to sleep as long as I wanted.

But unfortunately I could barely even draw a stick person and I hadn’t picked up an instrument since elementary school band. Those options didn’t seem too realistic I guess. In reality not many of my ideas seemed too possible; just random thoughts and ponderings to keep my mind amused. Most importantly, to keep my mind off what I had to do next. Almost unspeakable. The minutes were quickly flying by with the dreams of a dreamer. Guess I didn’t have much of a choice anymore. I couldn’t wait any longer.

Time to get ready for work.

-Monday-

It was Monday already, I couldn’t believe it. By far the worst day on the calendar.  There couldn’t possibly be a soul in the world that enjoyed a Monday, safe for maybe those lazy hairdressers. Who decided it was okay for them to have an extended weekend? Screw that, I probably work twice as hard as them and twice as long, I think I deserve at least a three day weekend. Okay, so maybe I really don’t work that hard anymore, but can’t blame a guy with such a pointless job for slacking off. Either way, Mondays were by far the worst; they should just start calling it ‘s****y-be-miserable-all-day’-day.

I used to think Sundays where the worst day of the week.  Back in high school and college Sundays were the ‘recover and do work day’. Nobody really wanted to do either of those things though. Who really wanted a hangover in the first place and to top it off, work, that was nearly out of the question. If you had asked anyone from my old dorm they would’ve said Sundays should be spent relaxing; watching some TV, smoking a little weed, and maybe kicking back a beer or two. But definitely not working, that was the last thing any of us wanted to do.

Looking back, maybe I spend a little too much time doing all the wrong things. I certainly spent the majority of my Sundays recovering, and we all know what the greatest cure for a hangover is. Doing any sort of homework on a Sunday was almost laughable. Maybe I should’ve listened to my parents a little more. Who knows, nothing to do about it now.

Either way, it was Monday, and I was stuck. No matter how much I hated and dreaded my job each day, I had little other option. I couldn’t just quit. What would I do, just stay at home all day living off what little savings I managed to keep until I was broke?  I could live off ramen and tap water for a few years, probably. Then what, move back with my parents? Find another job that was most likely to be just as terrible? Set up shop in cardboard alley? I think I’ll just stick to what I have now. Who knows, maybe I’ll hit the jackpot one day.

Getting out of bed was always so difficult, such a process. I couldn’t just jump out of bed, I wasn’t one of those, and ‘I love mornings’ fools who I never understood. What was so good about mornings anyways? Maybe if you didn’t have a job or were rich it might be nice. I loved my sleep and my king sized bed anyways; I wouldn’t trade either for the world.  If my job was good for anything it was giving me just enough money to afford that.

6:30am

The clock was glaring at me with such demonizing eyes.  It was flashing the bright red numbers over and over almost like it wished to yell at me, “Get out of bed you bum!” I couldn’t help but stare right back with such a hardened gaze. Almost if I stared hard enough or long enough that time may slow down or even stop. That if I could make time slow down on my clock then maybe all the clocks in the world would slow down. Could you imagine the possibilities? I could slow down crashing cars, speeding bullets, so many things. I could save so many lives; I would be a real-life superman. Or maybe I could just slow things down just enough to sneak in and out of the local bank. I wouldn’t steal a lot, just enough to keep me going. It was just a bank, they were insured by the government so what’d they care. I would always give a little to charity every now and then; that’d make me a good person right? 

I’m doing it again.

One, two, three, here we go I’m up.  Slippers on, robe on, I’m ready to go. Well I can’t exactly go into work like this but hey I have some time. I’d consider myself lucky that I even found my robe in this s**t-hole of a room. There were clothes everywhere; on my couch, my floor, dresser, you name it there was something on top of it. It must’ve been at least a couple weeks since I had cleaned. I just got to the point where procrastination turned a day into two into a week, well you get the point. I’m not even sure all these clothes were mine. That red bra certainly wasn’t mine, but for a million dollars I couldn’t remember whose it was. I know I had drunken a little this weekend, but I don’t remember bringing a girl home in at least a month. Oh well, not my problem right now. This entire room wasn’t my problem right now; I’ll just clean it after work tonight. Maybe.

I’m starting to run late. I had to make something for breakfast and shower still. I couldn’t go into work without shaving, brushing my teeth, cleaning up, and just not smelling in general. This was too much to do right now. First things first, breakfast.

I opened up my fridge almost expecting to see food looking back at me. I must’ve been still dreaming a little because all that was there was a weeks old jug of orange juice and some beer. Looks like I’m having a granola bar for breakfast; again. I have to be the unhealthiest person in the world right now. I couldn’t even count how many times I’ve skipped breakfast in the past month alone. I remember learning about how important the first meal of the day was, and metabolism, and energy and all that bologna, but it never really clicked to me. Or I just didn’t really care to be honest. This stupid bar will just have to be good enough.

Shower

That was probably going to be the easy part of the day. Now I only have to find something suitable to wear into work and I’ll be ready to go. Easier said than done. My drawers were completely empty. I know I just did a load of laundry sometime last week; guess the floor is my new dresser. Beggars can’t be choosers, so I guess this wrinkly shirt and khakis will have to do. Now I just have to find my belt. It’s going to take me ages to flip through this pile of crap. It took me longer to get out of bed than to do this.

Empty Bottle

Why was there an empty bottle of Jack Daniels underneath my sweatshirt? It didn’t seem like an old bottle, it even had a few drops left in the bottom. I know for a fact I didn’t drink in my room this weekend though. How the hell did it get here? It was by far too early to be piecing together this weekend. I’m already going to be late for work now; my boss is going to kill me. There’s my belt anways. Guess it will have to wait.

Ready to go

Click. Click. Click. This is ridiculous, I finally get out of bed, I make breakfast, I get ready, and now my car won’t start. I know I shouldn’t have put it off for so long; everyone had always told me that if your change oil light was on you need to do something about it. But what the hell did I care? My oil was good enough, it had kept me going the last thousand or so miles. Just last year I drove all the way from Orlando back home with a semi-flat tire. I swear it rained they entire trip, and it wasn’t like I was going anywhere near the speed limit anyways. My rusty old elantra kept her act together for that long; I don’t see what the problem is here.  I suppose after twenty years and a lifetime of rust, snow, s****y drivers, and who knows what the hell else, this was bound to happen. Guess I’m not driving into work today.

I could either take a taxi into work or possibly the bus.  Taxis weren’t terrible; they got you where you needed to go, they were always around, and the never f*****g broke down. I used to think taxis were the way to go until that one incident last month. It was so strange.

 My car was in the shop, I was late to work as usual, so I thought, hey why not just grab a taxi? Boy was I wrong. Right off the bat things went downhill quick. My driver didn’t speak even a little English; he kept muttering words and short rants in god knows what language. He was sweating profusely and seemed incredibly nervous about something.  I tried to explain where I was going, and he took off like he was running from the police; and god knows if he had any clue where he was. Five minutes in and I thought I was going to puke already. This mad-man was racing the clock, and must’ve had at least three near accidents already. I tried to be polite and asked him to pull over, but he kept yelling sorry. Weird he understood that part, but what kind of a response was that? After about fifteen minutes I could finally see my building, and with such relief I started to take my money out. Without any hesitation he zoomed right by my office. I started to panic now; where was he going? He picked up the speed, and was flying from corner to corner. Then out of nowhere, he slams the breaks, puts the taxi in park and without a word jumps out of the car and starts running.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so confused before in my life. I had to walk almost twenty blocks in the opposite direction to get to work, and incredibly late at that. Needless to say, no more taxis.

The bus was always an option. I know I’m too picky, but come ‘on the bus? I mean, I had to have a little bit of class. Last time I took the bus was on my way home from high school and some homeless man spit on me. I was just standing there, minding my own business, and he spit on me. He kept yelling about his change spilling all over the floor, but that wasn’t really my fault was it? Even before that happened I just remember always getting the worst sneers from people. No one could mind their own; like me. They had to look, and gleam and make their own condescending judgments about me. Right from the start of high school I would quickly get on the bus, pay the driver, and take a seat near a front. There always seemed to be a seat open for me but I never really questioned it. If I’m paying for the ride the least I deserved was a seat, and possibly a window too.

Now that I think about it, I’d much rather walk. It was New York City, the city of lights, life, and amusement. I’d be to work before I knew it. Come to think of it, why did I have a car anyways if I lived in the city? That had to have been the most impractical of my possessions. I only ever used it for work, which wasn’t that far of a walk, and it rarely ever ran to start with.  It’d be like me having an airplane or maybe even a helicopter. Yeah, that’d be amazing. I could land it on top of my building and fly it to the park for the night. I’d be to work in a matter of minutes. I’m sure fuel would be a b***h but my bank account always seemed to have enough in it. Or better yet maybe a jetpack! Who needs a helicopter anyways, so much wasted space and money. I could just push a button and whoosh I’m on my way to work. When I’m down I can just throw it in the closet, easy as can be. Or maybe a..

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

I was startled and shocked, this man just clearly ran into me and now he has the nerve to yell at me? I don’t think so. I figured an aggressive yet calm demeanor was appropriate. “You better check that tone buddy”

He didn’t seem to react so calmly; he immediately spun around and started walking towards me.He started to shout, “What the hell did you just say to me?”

I didn’t even know this man, but he was bigger than me and didn’t seem to be messing around. I didn’t really have much of an option anymore, the aggressive route was a huge fail. Maybe I’ll try being a little more calm. “I’m sorry sir; I didn’t see where I was going”

He clearly wasn’t backing down, “Sorry just isn’t going to be good enough this time.”

I was getting really nervous. I hadn’t been in a fight since before high school, and I think I lost that one. Maybe I’ll try to be nicer; yes being nice has to work, right? “Sir; I sincerely apologize. Do you not believe me?”

I was shocked.

He stopped near dead in his tracks. The flushed coloring of his face almost instantly drained. He quietly stuttered and I almost wasn’t able to hear. “No, I believe you. Have a nice day.” He turned around and quickly walked the other direction.

Crisis averted.

I wish I knew what changed that guys mind. He seemed ready to kick my a*s then all of sudden it was as if he realized he was late to his own wedding. Either way, I’m not going to argue; I’m already late for work as is. I think next time I’ll just take the bus. It’s been almost ten years so I can’t imagine it’s still as bad. Plus, I’m just not in as good of shape as I used to be; this walk is taking forever. I used to be able to run for miles without stopping and now I’m winded after ten blocks.

 

9:30am-Finally at work.

Late as always.

 

Author's Note

Like I said, no plot elements. Just a very detailed intro to give a simple idea of the character and to set a basic tone of what the plot may turn out to be. Curious as to how everyone things it was written. Thanks for the feedback.

Reviews

[Daniel Hennessy]

This is crazy. You, my friend, are a warrior wordsmith. It has this flow that makes me stop and re-read just so that I got it right.

There are a few handfuls of grammatical errors. Nothing big. Just misplaced period, commas. A couple of commas need to be semi-colons.

Other than that. Mind blowing.

[Katie de Lavani]

Such a fine cut of simplicity with mysterious undertones led to just a fascinating read! The inner dialog was curt but also easy to compare to, putting all of us humans on the same playing board. But we all have a story. The character here definitely does. There were three points of curiosity that fed me the rope to continue the story. What is his job? Were the objects in his room really his? Why did the man in the street suddenly walk away? I hope there will be a continuation of this!

[Chris Yip]

You are a matured and experienced writer and can express yourself beautifully in words and describe anything and everything even better. I definitely can learn from you!!! Your imagination and use of words are poetic yet suitable for a short story. You should seriously write a collection of short stories something that Stephen king did with Skeleton Crew. I see real potential, very readable and skillful.

[Raven Starhawk]

This raw style of artistry is astonishingly brilliant for these eyes to behold. You compose details so marvelously.

[Unam]

Your style was very interesting, i admire how you managed to describe the world around the character as well as the character himself just by using simple, personal dialogue. It is something I had never read before and I have learned much from it. If you managed to make something with no plot so interesting then I got to say I look forward in reading more pieces like these.

[EMF]

Fascinating. And who said a story had to have plot elements? Life just happens. Sometimes the best bit is justto sit back and enjoy. And with this, I did. Very much