Mewster
Prologue: The Act Of Creation
A black room devoid of everything, including walls
Gradually a circle of light appears and forms a floor by its illumination. From beyond the light, footsteps approach.
A bald man with glasses steps out of the shadow. He starts to speak and his voice can be plainly heard.
"Experimentation," the man says. "Experimentation is the key to progress. Mere repetition is a playground for experimentation to occur, but there is more. Repetition can establish a rut, a comfortable groove. To evolve is to be uncomfortable, at least for a while."
The man tugs on his purple dress shirt in the vain attempt at hiding his belly. "I'd have to confess to being a little more 'comfortable' than is wise, possibly, and am working on that at the gym." The joke echo's in the room's fastness yet finds no response. The man looks around and pulls out a note pad. "Note to self, put in audience if a humor response is needed, especially if the joke is marginal, at best."
He looks up and says, "Ok, well lets get this out of the way."
Behind the man a terrific explosion burns hot and loud, sending shrapnel everywhere. The man ducks to keep from getting injured or horribly burnt.
"I love a good explosion. But right now, is my time to be serious.
"My name, is ... Well lets just say that I'm Hithereeveryone. My pen name. For you see, I am a writer."
The man raised his hands and more lights went up. "Now I didn't say that I was a particularly good writer, but I am unapologetic on that point. I'm getting better, slowly but surely, and that is through experimentation.
"Now I'm not trying to 'find my voice' or anything foolish like that. Anyone who doesn't do the craft because they want to find their voice has actually found their voice only to find that they are mute due to the inability to do the work required. I mean, look at this." His hand swept behind him and he presented a very slick new car.
The car was completely stainless steel, yet it looked nothing like a Delorian. It was sporty as a dart and smelled like a brand new tennis shoe. The red interior leather seemed to scream out 'sit on me' and the dark wood of the dashboard glimmered, revealing countless coats of varnish. The body of the car also inspired awe. The curves were as inviting as those of a beautiful woman in the prime of her childbearing beauty. It looked as if it were going 80 miles per hour just standing still.
The man got his keys out of his pocket. Walking to the car, he found the right one on his keychain. He got it out, winked then opened the car door. He slid into the driver's seat and put the golden key into the ignition.
The car purred like a milk fed kitten. "Don't you just love a well crafted engine. Sure the things eat gas and will destroy the environment, but there is a love in that engine. The engineer worked forever to take out all the sounds that you don't hear. The clanks, the pings, the sputters. Should I choose, I could take this car up to the autobahn and open it up. Let it hug the curves on a fine fall day. Unfortunately, I've got other things in mind for today." He turned off the motor and the purring sound stopped.
He got out of the car and said, "Now as I was saying, this stuff takes some effort. Creation was so hard that not even god could do it for seven days straight." He stood perfectly still as behind him, a huge block of steel came down with tremendous speed and crushed the car flat. The sound was sickening and tremendous. "There's effort in doing that too. But as anyone will tell you, it's far harder to create than destroy."
He held his hands up and swept away the block of steel and the flattened sports car. In their place he put a spinning globe. "You take a look at the world today and you can see, destruction is what we are all about. Wars, the purposeful neglect of a perfectly good southern city by the American federal government, Paris Hilton. We need to be serious and we need to stop wrecking stuff." The globe imploded in on its self, leaving the man as the only inhabitant of the room, once more.
"Today, I'm not only going to be serious, I am going to build something. I'm going to build something in you, the reader. You see, I'm having problems in my personal life, so I'm naturally uncomfortable. I'm getting married soon, yet I currently have no job. I'm thirty-five, have no hair and am fifteen different shades of house-poor. But what I do have is this."
The sky becomes blue and the man is on a hilltop overlooking a small southern town that everyone calls a city.
"Now, since I'm uncomfortable, I may as well be experimenting. This story will stretch my boundaries as a writer who is straddling the line between crappy and tolerable. As they said in spinal tap, 'It's a thin line between clever an stupid.' I'm straddling that line too.
"I've got this town, though. You will soon get to meet some of the residents of this town and hopefully enjoy your stay. I say hopefully, because I'm possibly pushing these scenes out before they are ready. In order to actually be a writer, as opposed to someone who just types, I need to call it a day on some of these chapters and actually publish them."
The town and sky disappeared into blackness and the man was left in his circle of light. "So you have in your hands the first of, hopefully, many books from "The Strange Wind" series. There are plot lines here that are just being formed while others are being hinted. I don't expect anyone to catch everything, so I'll try to be patient. I know I'm not really helping you figure out what's going on in the story with this prolog and this is mostly about venting my own doubts and other nastys. But just suffice it to say that not all is as it seems in the town that they call a city and it won't ever be again.
"So, welcome along for the ride. Without further ado, I present, for your amusement, the first installment of The Strange Wind. It's called The Puzzle Box."
The man turned around and walked away leaving the circle of light. His footsteps became fainter until he made a snapping sound and the light turned off. The room went back into the nothing ness that created it.
A black room devoid of everything, including walls
Gradually a circle of light appears and forms a floor by its illumination. From beyond the light, footsteps approach.
A bald man with glasses steps out of the shadow. He starts to speak and his voice can be plainly heard.
"Experimentation," the man says. "Experimentation is the key to progress. Mere repetition is a playground for experimentation to occur, but there is more. Repetition can establish a rut, a comfortable groove. To evolve is to be uncomfortable, at least for a while."
The man tugs on his purple dress shirt in the vain attempt at hiding his belly. "I'd have to confess to being a little more 'comfortable' than is wise, possibly, and am working on that at the gym." The joke echo's in the room's fastness yet finds no response. The man looks around and pulls out a note pad. "Note to self, put in audience if a humor response is needed, especially if the joke is marginal, at best."
He looks up and says, "Ok, well lets get this out of the way."
Behind the man a terrific explosion burns hot and loud, sending shrapnel everywhere. The man ducks to keep from getting injured or horribly burnt.
"I love a good explosion. But right now, is my time to be serious.
"My name, is ... Well lets just say that I'm Hithereeveryone. My pen name. For you see, I am a writer."
The man raised his hands and more lights went up. "Now I didn't say that I was a particularly good writer, but I am unapologetic on that point. I'm getting better, slowly but surely, and that is through experimentation.
"Now I'm not trying to 'find my voice' or anything foolish like that. Anyone who doesn't do the craft because they want to find their voice has actually found their voice only to find that they are mute due to the inability to do the work required. I mean, look at this." His hand swept behind him and he presented a very slick new car.
The car was completely stainless steel, yet it looked nothing like a Delorian. It was sporty as a dart and smelled like a brand new tennis shoe. The red interior leather seemed to scream out 'sit on me' and the dark wood of the dashboard glimmered, revealing countless coats of varnish. The body of the car also inspired awe. The curves were as inviting as those of a beautiful woman in the prime of her childbearing beauty. It looked as if it were going 80 miles per hour just standing still.
The man got his keys out of his pocket. Walking to the car, he found the right one on his keychain. He got it out, winked then opened the car door. He slid into the driver's seat and put the golden key into the ignition.
The car purred like a milk fed kitten. "Don't you just love a well crafted engine. Sure the things eat gas and will destroy the environment, but there is a love in that engine. The engineer worked forever to take out all the sounds that you don't hear. The clanks, the pings, the sputters. Should I choose, I could take this car up to the autobahn and open it up. Let it hug the curves on a fine fall day. Unfortunately, I've got other things in mind for today." He turned off the motor and the purring sound stopped.
He got out of the car and said, "Now as I was saying, this stuff takes some effort. Creation was so hard that not even god could do it for seven days straight." He stood perfectly still as behind him, a huge block of steel came down with tremendous speed and crushed the car flat. The sound was sickening and tremendous. "There's effort in doing that too. But as anyone will tell you, it's far harder to create than destroy."
He held his hands up and swept away the block of steel and the flattened sports car. In their place he put a spinning globe. "You take a look at the world today and you can see, destruction is what we are all about. Wars, the purposeful neglect of a perfectly good southern city by the American federal government, Paris Hilton. We need to be serious and we need to stop wrecking stuff." The globe imploded in on its self, leaving the man as the only inhabitant of the room, once more.
"Today, I'm not only going to be serious, I am going to build something. I'm going to build something in you, the reader. You see, I'm having problems in my personal life, so I'm naturally uncomfortable. I'm getting married soon, yet I currently have no job. I'm thirty-five, have no hair and am fifteen different shades of house-poor. But what I do have is this."
The sky becomes blue and the man is on a hilltop overlooking a small southern town that everyone calls a city.
"Now, since I'm uncomfortable, I may as well be experimenting. This story will stretch my boundaries as a writer who is straddling the line between crappy and tolerable. As they said in spinal tap, 'It's a thin line between clever an stupid.' I'm straddling that line too.
"I've got this town, though. You will soon get to meet some of the residents of this town and hopefully enjoy your stay. I say hopefully, because I'm possibly pushing these scenes out before they are ready. In order to actually be a writer, as opposed to someone who just types, I need to call it a day on some of these chapters and actually publish them."
The town and sky disappeared into blackness and the man was left in his circle of light. "So you have in your hands the first of, hopefully, many books from "The Strange Wind" series. There are plot lines here that are just being formed while others are being hinted. I don't expect anyone to catch everything, so I'll try to be patient. I know I'm not really helping you figure out what's going on in the story with this prolog and this is mostly about venting my own doubts and other nastys. But just suffice it to say that not all is as it seems in the town that they call a city and it won't ever be again.
"So, welcome along for the ride. Without further ado, I present, for your amusement, the first installment of The Strange Wind. It's called The Puzzle Box."
The man turned around and walked away leaving the circle of light. His footsteps became fainter until he made a snapping sound and the light turned off. The room went back into the nothing ness that created it.