SpaceGoat
New member
Right guys, I really don't frequent here quite as much as I used to but I hope you could help me with some constructive criticism of an aspect of my summer boredom.
Also, I'm really not confident writing conversations in stories... I haven't written one in like 4 years
So I would really like some pointers in that especially if possible.
Thanks guys.
Belief. Belief is a strong thing. That, of course needs to be followed by an equally strong helping of common sense. My six year old self for example, wholeheartedly believed he could fly. This particular fantasy was knocked into touch right between my second story bedroom window and the concrete patio slabs in which I split my skull on. That same mixture of belief and common sense could be of incredible use to me if I just learnt to actually embrace it though. Similar cases through the years involved me watching shows about superheroes and fantasy universes, these also convinced me that if I believed, I’d be able to walk through walls, or move things with my mind. Many dents in my living room wall later and even more wasted hours staring at a cup with my hand outstretched and nothing but sheer focus on my mind and a popped vein in my left eye ball and I’d finally come to the conclusion that belief did nothing. Thinking about it now however, I find it ludicrous that people in my chosen profession (“chosen” is an unusual word for something that should be more along the lines of “forced”) can effectively fight with nothing but some old insightful sentences from a bible and a belief that these work. According to that logic I should be able to banish some witch like thing by reading Hansel and Gretel because I’d fully believe it to be the truth. This I find laughable. Then again, many people find me laughable, especially if I tell them about my ridiculous career choice. Truth is, it’s the only thing I’m good at and the pay tends to lean towards the decent side, if you have the right clients in your phonebook. Or grimoire. This specific client that I was currently sat next to in some mediocre bar had handed me an envelope containing a small amount of money and an even smaller note with an address on it. I looked at him unconvincingly and waitied for him to make the first move in this rather no sided conversation. He obliged.
“I’ve heard your good with this sort of thing”, His voice took me by surprise, “I mean, you come highly recommended from a friend of mine”. I took a swig of the bottle in front of me and I was about to ask him who it was that I had so famously helped but he began his stuttered speech once more. “I have a problem with-”, I cut him off before he could finish.
“First things first”, I began. “What’s your name mate?”
“Jerry”, he spluttered after taking a sip from his already half empty pint, “Jerry Reed”, He coughed, “and your Michael right?” I raised my bottle to acknowledge the question appropriately whilst stifling a gaseous escape in my throat.
“Michael White”, I stated. “In the flesh”. I gave him bow of my head and indicated to him to carry on talking.
“As I was saying, there seems to be a problem in my house”. I rolled my eyes. Most of the conversations I have with this kind of client always follow the same protocol. “The other night, for a joke, me and my girlfriend-”,
“Pissed about on a Ouija board?” I interrupted for a second time knowing full well what was coming.
“Well... er... yeah”, His voice trailed off, “How did you know?”
“Call it intuition”, I chuckled. I began to notice that something had obviously been bothering Jerry, his face looked pale even in the dark of the bar and his eyes seemed gaunt, almost hollow. I began to pity him, the same way you feel sorry for a child that won’t do as its told and then it falls and scrapes its knee. The dark grey suit he was wearing would have suggested a high end job. This suit however seemed old, almost as if he’d being wearing it for a few weeks. His whole demeanour stank of worry and fear. Not to mention his body smelling of old beer and cigarettes. An obvious result of the Ouija’s escapee.
“What were you talking about on the board?” I asked rather blandly, fed up already with how the night would end up.
“Normal stuff at first, you know like, is there anybody there? What is your name? How did you die? That kind of stuff”. I took a gulp of my beer, the refreshing but bitter edge hit me at the end and I snarled slightly in response.
“You got a name?” I blurted with way less enthusiasm than I meant to.
“I told you my name”, Jerry replied.
“No, sorry,” I pronounced, “I didn’t mean yours, the thing on the other end, did it tell you its name?”
“Erm...” Jerry pondered for a moment and drank more of the pint in front of him. “Sam, or something like that.” He finally managed to expel.
“Shit,” I exclaimed.
“Is there a problem?” Jerry responded as he brushed his greasy blonde hair aside and stared depressingly into my eyes.
“Its no big deal”, I growled. Thing was, actually knowing the ers name would’ve helped me out a whole lot. “Did it spell out anything that seemed completely unintelligible or a sequence of letters that did not seem to make any sense?” I queried him again, hoping that this time I would get a positive answer.
“Well yeah actually”, He paused briefly and looked down at his pocket pulling out his phone. He seemed to be scrolling through his messages, or pictures. “Here” he said handing me the phone, “found some weird symbol scratched into the wall”. I picked it up and looked with intent at the picture on the screen. Luckily for me, and him, I recognised it.
“in’ A”, I smiled and picked up the envelope. “How much is in here?” I asked cautiously as I began to stand.
“Fifty quid”, he mumbled, “Will that be enough?” he continued. I thought for a moment. I needed a new TV but from the looks of him I guess I’d have to wait until a more premium client came along.
“It should be”, I reassured. I picked up my beer, drank what was left and walked out of the bar with a grimace on my face. I hate warm beer.
Also, I'm really not confident writing conversations in stories... I haven't written one in like 4 years
So I would really like some pointers in that especially if possible.Thanks guys.
Belief. Belief is a strong thing. That, of course needs to be followed by an equally strong helping of common sense. My six year old self for example, wholeheartedly believed he could fly. This particular fantasy was knocked into touch right between my second story bedroom window and the concrete patio slabs in which I split my skull on. That same mixture of belief and common sense could be of incredible use to me if I just learnt to actually embrace it though. Similar cases through the years involved me watching shows about superheroes and fantasy universes, these also convinced me that if I believed, I’d be able to walk through walls, or move things with my mind. Many dents in my living room wall later and even more wasted hours staring at a cup with my hand outstretched and nothing but sheer focus on my mind and a popped vein in my left eye ball and I’d finally come to the conclusion that belief did nothing. Thinking about it now however, I find it ludicrous that people in my chosen profession (“chosen” is an unusual word for something that should be more along the lines of “forced”) can effectively fight with nothing but some old insightful sentences from a bible and a belief that these work. According to that logic I should be able to banish some witch like thing by reading Hansel and Gretel because I’d fully believe it to be the truth. This I find laughable. Then again, many people find me laughable, especially if I tell them about my ridiculous career choice. Truth is, it’s the only thing I’m good at and the pay tends to lean towards the decent side, if you have the right clients in your phonebook. Or grimoire. This specific client that I was currently sat next to in some mediocre bar had handed me an envelope containing a small amount of money and an even smaller note with an address on it. I looked at him unconvincingly and waitied for him to make the first move in this rather no sided conversation. He obliged.
“I’ve heard your good with this sort of thing”, His voice took me by surprise, “I mean, you come highly recommended from a friend of mine”. I took a swig of the bottle in front of me and I was about to ask him who it was that I had so famously helped but he began his stuttered speech once more. “I have a problem with-”, I cut him off before he could finish.
“First things first”, I began. “What’s your name mate?”
“Jerry”, he spluttered after taking a sip from his already half empty pint, “Jerry Reed”, He coughed, “and your Michael right?” I raised my bottle to acknowledge the question appropriately whilst stifling a gaseous escape in my throat.
“Michael White”, I stated. “In the flesh”. I gave him bow of my head and indicated to him to carry on talking.
“As I was saying, there seems to be a problem in my house”. I rolled my eyes. Most of the conversations I have with this kind of client always follow the same protocol. “The other night, for a joke, me and my girlfriend-”,
“Pissed about on a Ouija board?” I interrupted for a second time knowing full well what was coming.
“Well... er... yeah”, His voice trailed off, “How did you know?”
“Call it intuition”, I chuckled. I began to notice that something had obviously been bothering Jerry, his face looked pale even in the dark of the bar and his eyes seemed gaunt, almost hollow. I began to pity him, the same way you feel sorry for a child that won’t do as its told and then it falls and scrapes its knee. The dark grey suit he was wearing would have suggested a high end job. This suit however seemed old, almost as if he’d being wearing it for a few weeks. His whole demeanour stank of worry and fear. Not to mention his body smelling of old beer and cigarettes. An obvious result of the Ouija’s escapee.
“What were you talking about on the board?” I asked rather blandly, fed up already with how the night would end up.
“Normal stuff at first, you know like, is there anybody there? What is your name? How did you die? That kind of stuff”. I took a gulp of my beer, the refreshing but bitter edge hit me at the end and I snarled slightly in response.
“You got a name?” I blurted with way less enthusiasm than I meant to.
“I told you my name”, Jerry replied.
“No, sorry,” I pronounced, “I didn’t mean yours, the thing on the other end, did it tell you its name?”
“Erm...” Jerry pondered for a moment and drank more of the pint in front of him. “Sam, or something like that.” He finally managed to expel.
“Shit,” I exclaimed.
“Is there a problem?” Jerry responded as he brushed his greasy blonde hair aside and stared depressingly into my eyes.
“Its no big deal”, I growled. Thing was, actually knowing the ers name would’ve helped me out a whole lot. “Did it spell out anything that seemed completely unintelligible or a sequence of letters that did not seem to make any sense?” I queried him again, hoping that this time I would get a positive answer.
“Well yeah actually”, He paused briefly and looked down at his pocket pulling out his phone. He seemed to be scrolling through his messages, or pictures. “Here” he said handing me the phone, “found some weird symbol scratched into the wall”. I picked it up and looked with intent at the picture on the screen. Luckily for me, and him, I recognised it.
“in’ A”, I smiled and picked up the envelope. “How much is in here?” I asked cautiously as I began to stand.
“Fifty quid”, he mumbled, “Will that be enough?” he continued. I thought for a moment. I needed a new TV but from the looks of him I guess I’d have to wait until a more premium client came along.
“It should be”, I reassured. I picked up my beer, drank what was left and walked out of the bar with a grimace on my face. I hate warm beer.
