Arnold Cavenstein crept slowly across his kitchen floor to the door leading into the dining room. His hands stuck to the floor as he crawled, sticky with the residue of two days spent in heavy cooking. No sound had emanated from the room since the barrage of gunfire had sent Arnold into a series of mental fits moments before. His subsequent five minutes had been spent in abject terror, fully convinced that his own death was forthcoming. He had eventually calmed himself to such an extent that he was able to proceed with the investigation into the scene of the conflict.
As Arnold approached the swinging door to the next room he quietly pushed himself up from the floor and braced his arms between the floor and the oven, putting himself in direct line with the small crack between the door and the frame. As he leaned forward to peer through the tiny crevice his hand slipped from its position on the floor sending him tumbling through the doorway. The door crashed against the adjacent wall, a boastful herald of his arrival.
From his fall Arnold had come to a full stop, lying face down in the dining room, a picture of utter exhaustion and failure. As he lay prone on the rough carpet he could feel a set of eyes surveying the scope of his entrance.
“Don’t move,” said Ms. J.
A trigger clicked somewhere above where Arnold lay.
“This had nothing to do with you. For your part you were completely blameless. They all deserved what they got. I didn’t even have to touch the old man. Probably died of guilt anyway, the old bastard.”
Footsteps circled from Arnold’s right to his left side.
“It’s funny, you know? I shouldn’t have ever cared. I wouldn’t have either, but that damn Brisby. It was in his voice. You could always tell he was right.”
Arnold shook on the floor, scared of inevitability. The footsteps that had been circling him began to move away. He heard the front door creak open.
“You still have a chance you know. You just need to make the right choices.”
Arnold Cavenstein remained motionless, prostrate in an empty room in an empty building on the edge of an empty city.
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My Book (Being Peer-read)
Side Projects
My Larger Work in Progress
Dogs Turning Circles in Tall Grass
These are excerpts, presumably in order, of a book that I have been writing since the Spring of 2006. It is a science-fiction novel detailing a post-apocalyptic society in which people have unconsciously stopped dreaming. The story follows the character Witticker, the last dreamer. Through its unfolding it explores the value of individualism versus the lazy collectivism that has become the focus of our media today, evidenced in part by the countless examples of paint-by-numbers music and unrealized plots in both TV and film.
The purpose of sharing this with the larger public is to see what the initial reaction is and to confirm that this is all coming out lucidly and fluidly. Let me know what you like and what you don't. Thank you.
The purpose of sharing this with the larger public is to see what the initial reaction is and to confirm that this is all coming out lucidly and fluidly. Let me know what you like and what you don't. Thank you.
About Me
- Bill
- I find myself involved in projects completely unrelated to each other.
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