- Joined
- Jul 20, 2018
- Messages
- 2
- Reaction score
- 0
- Age
- 25
- Country
-
This is a novel that I'm in the process of writing. It's about a depressed writer who gets stuck living a life he hates, yet is so ensnared in it, he simply keeps living. Something pushes him into action and he responds, desperately attempting to reinvent himself and build a new life, one where he can find joy in the everyday.
**Any feedback is welcome**
**Any feedback is welcome**
Chapter 1:
The manager reads a piece of paper, then yells to the back.
“Two more burgers, Dan!”
“Heard!” Barely a second later, comes the enthusiastic reply. Another ticket rolls from the machine in front of the manager and he quickly reads this one too.
“Three more medium fries, Laren!” Again, he yells to the back.
“Heard.” This time the response is slower and lacks all the energy the previous one held.
The man named Laren moves with a lethargy that even sloths would envy. He drops the fries into the week old grease and questions why anyone would ever want to eat here. Just the smell of the place makes him want to throw up every time he arrives for work. Continuing with the same snail pace, he pours a pound of salt on the fries that are done and fills three containers with them.
“Three grilled chicken, two burgers, and six medium fries!” The manager’s voice thuds against Laren’s eardrums. He sighs to himself amidst his co-workers cheery response.
“Heard,” and he repeats the same process producing six more fries.
After his shift is over, Laren moves faster than he had all day, getting changed and leaving the restaurant. The place is similar to any fast food place in any city, dirty and cheap. A by-product of its affordability is that it's always busy, which to Laren is like his own hell on earth. He works seven days a week just to pay his bills and, on the worst days, selling his soul to the devil starts to sound like a reasonable alternative. You know what they say, ‘when in Rome’.
Laren makes the long walk back to his apartment in the approaching dark. When he gets to his place he gets undressed, watches a few episodes of his favorite show, and falls asleep.
“BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!” The alarm clock rings incessantly until Laren lazily smacks the snooze. He rolls himself out of bed, and with his eyes closed gets dressed. He puts on a fresh, ready-to-be-greased-on uniform and makes himself a cup of instant coffee before heading to the door.
He pauses in the cramped living room, looking at a framed piece of paper on the wall. On it says, ‘Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing’. Laren stands in place sipping his coffee, reflecting on the events that led to his current state of being. His parents’ told him that he should be a doctor or a lawyer, but he always wanted to be a writer. He worked all through university to pay for it, and now that he got his degree, he still works at the same fast food joint. He sighs before deciding to brave the soul sucking walk to work. When he gets to his door, he notices a necklace hanging from the handle. It has thick, silver chain links which suspend a dark gem set into an intricately decorated mold. At first glance the gem is black as ink, but when Laren looks closer, he sees swirling colors of reds and blues. He doesn’t know how it got there, but it must be worth something. He sets it on the counter before heading to work.
The day passes the same as the one before it and the one before that. The only difference is that today is saturday, so things are a bit slower. Laren still moves with a profound weariness, and his sighs echo through the day until his shift ends. At home, Laren showers and makes his dinner. He picks up the necklace while heating up water for ramen noodles and rubs the gem between his fingers. The sound of hissing water, as the pot boils over, draws him out of his fascination. He pockets the necklace and rushes to clean the mess.
While watching the same reruns of his favorite show, he thoughtlessly rubs the gem between his thumb and forefinger. In a bit of a fancy, he decides to wear the necklace. He puts it around his neck and lays back against his pillows, still idly touching it. Seemingly all at once, waves of exhaustion roll over him, slowly pulling him under.
Chapter 2:
A bright light forces its way through Laren’s eyelids, waking him. Thinking he must have forgotten to shut the blinds, he attempts to roll out of bed. That’s when he realizes that he’s laying in grass. He carefully opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. He’s in the middle of a small clearing amongst the largest trees he’s ever seen. They all stand as tall as office buildings, and just as thick. Although, where buildings have a certain structure to them, the trees branch off in their own patterns, each one unique; the only commonality being the necessity to grow upwards to catch the ever fleeting sun rays. Even in the clearing, the foliage above weaves together to block the sunlight, making the place a sanctuary of sorts. Laren can only look around in awe. As he sits there, voices begin to faintly reach him. They grow louder as they approach, then silence. Laren stands up to try and find the source, when five people materialize in the branches above him.
“Stop! What is your business?” One of the five speaks, although Laren can’t figure out which it is.
“Where am I?.” His voice is weak from shock. His response is met by quiet but intense arguments between the five, that he can barely hear.
“He’s obviously lying…”
“There’s no way he could get past us…”
“Look at his clothes, though…”
“Remember the incident…”
“That’s just a story that….”
The arguments go on for a while before some sort of conclusion seems to be made. All the while, Laren is waiting tensely for them to stop bickering. He could have tried to run, but he isn’t very athletic and would probably trip over his own feet within a couple of seconds. The five figures in black robes stand over him, reminding him of judges ready to make a sentence. The thought provokes an image of them in white, powdered wigs and only his fear outweighs the laughter bubbling inside of him.
“You’ll come back with us so the Quanny can decide what to do with you.” The tone in which the man says this reaffirms the gravity of the situation. Though he doesn’t know what the Quanny is, he realizes that it’s a serious thing. Before he can react, a man and two women come down from the trees above him and tie his hands and feet together. Then, seemingly out of thin air, they pull out a stretcher and put him on it. All this happens in mere seconds. Laren lays on the stretcher, thankful he didn’t try and run, aware that he would have surely been caught and would have looked even more suspicious.
Two of the people pick up the stretcher and they move deftly through the treetops. All Laren can see from his back is a blur of branches above him. He stays completely still; the only thing that disturbs the tranquility of the ride is the occasional touch of a falling leaf or curious bug. Slowly, the branches above him thin until the sun shines straight into his face. The stretcher comes to a stop and he is dumped onto the ground. He lands on his shoulder and grimaces. One person unties his ankles and gives a simple command.
“Walk.” Rising to his feet and looking around, he sees they are at the edge of an enormous clearing. In the middle of the clearing is a tree which absurdly dwarfs all the others. Its limbs rise high into the sky, thicker than most of the trees in the forest behind him. Sprawling from the base of the gargantuan tree is a village. There are simple wooden houses, the biggest ones being two stories tall. From this distance, the houses are the size of ants when compared to the great tree. A push comes to Laren’s back and he stumbles to catch his balance. Meanwhile, two people come to flank either side of him, while another moves in front of him to lead the way. He starts to walk along with them. The tree is much farther away than he had thought, and although they start with the sun high in the sky, by the time they make it to the village, twilight has settled. It should be brighter, but the tree has covered the setting sun entirely, leaving the village in complete darkness. It’s imposing to Laren, seeing the great tree swallow up daylight . As they make their way through the village, they have to move around, over, and ,on one occasion, below the roots of the great tree that defiantly rise above the soil. They walk straight through the village to a building built onto the side of the tree. There is a large building at ground level, and looking up Laren can see stairs leading up into the tree. Walking up to the double doors of the building, a woman comes from the shadows to stand in their way. The leader of the group goes ahead and meets her. The woman wears clothes of dark green, and tightly strapped to the top of the clothing is bark. It can only be assumed to be armor of some kind, though it's doubtful whether it could stop any weapon.
After conversing for a few minutes, the leader of the group comes back and the large double doors open slowly inward. They walk wordlessly inside, and instantly Laren is struck by the decor. On the outside, the building seems as simple as any other, but inside roots twist throughout and even support smaller trees. The entire inside reminds him of a biodome. They walk along a stone path through the center. At one point, a bird bursts from the leaves of a smaller tree and darts away. Following it with his eyes, Laren realizes that there is no roof. It opens into the night air, with the enormous tree acting as a canopy. When they approach the trunk of the great tree, there is a small pond, and five people are sitting cross-legged on pillows of leaves. There is a woman and four men, all wearing identical robes of dark brown with golden embroidery. The middle pillow is slightly behind the others and on it sits the woman. She has dark skin and her bright yellow eyes trace their movements as they approach, similar to the way a cat watches a mouse; utterly at peace, yet calculating its prey in the same nonchalance. Her long black hair blows with the occasional breeze and she doesn’t move to fix it at any point, reserving her attention to the group.
“Quanny, we have come to seek the wisdom of the great tree.” All of the guards bend down on one knee, place a fist on the ground, and drop their heads. Laren remains standing awkwardly, in the middle of the group, not sure if he’s expected to bow as well. Just in case, Laren gets down on one knee in an attempt to copy them, stifled by the rope that binds his hands behind his back. Still, he hopes the gesture will appease them in some way.
“Stand.” They all stand, Laren waiting a half a second to make sure before rising. Everyone sits in silence waiting for the woman to speak again. In the silence, Laren sweeps his eyes over the remaining members of the council. The man directly adjacent to the woman has fiery red hair and a straight, serious mouth. He meets Laren’s eyes with a caustic glare, forcing Laren to look away or be burned by his flame. Cautiously, he moves his eyes to the man at the very left end of the congregation. This man is plain looking with close cropped black hair outlining deeply tanned skin, and green eyes. He has a medium build and his face is the only feature that stands out, with three large scars comprising the majority of his face, running diagonally from above his left ear, to the right side of his neck. The remaining two members catch his attention because they seem to mirror each other. Both are men of large stature, wearing similar bored expressions under thick protruding brows. With their long, braided hair Laren is reminded of the lion statues that guard entrances to libraries. The furthest man to the right meets his eyes and gives him a lazy smile.
“I’m assuming that he’s the reason you came today.” Her tone of voice and the pressure of her gaze force Laren’s eyes back to the woman in middle.
“Yes, Kontlin. We found him half a mile inside the border. He claims to not understand where he is?”
“I see.” The woman, Kontlin, doesn’t break eye contact with Laren. He remains stock still, afraid to move. His fear isn’t because she’s menacing, at least not the type of menacing that would be found in movies or that haunted Laren’s junior high days. She doesn’t seem to be a brute, or a bully, but rather her chilly gaze disturbs Laren deeply, as if she possesses some form of hidden power. A leaf is blown into his face and he swats it away, breaking eye contact. In that moment, he realizes the foolishness of this whole encounter. Of this world, these people, and the giant tree that eclipses the sky above him. Staring up at that giant tree, he comes to an epiphany. A manic grin comes over his face and he bursts out laughing. Doubling over, he laughs until his stomach hurts. All the while, the guards around him are frozen in horror. Laren finally catches his breath enough to speak.
“This is crazy. I’m crazy. I honestly don’t know how I thought this one up.” He looks again at the great tree.
“Maybe my subconscious is telling me that I need to get out of the city,” then he looks at the rest of his surroundings, including all the people waiting for the end of his outburst.
“And I need to get out more.” One of the guards recovers from shock first, and begins to move towards him.
“Stop.” Again the woman’s voice crosses the clearing, full of steel. Laren, still grinning hysterically to himself, gets an idea. He shouts loudly, “Wake up!” Nothing happens, and Laren’s grin fades slightly for a moment. Then, he yells repeatedly, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Again nothing happens, and Laren loses all semblance of glee. There is a moment of tense silence where a different guard takes a hesitant step towards him. When nothing happens, the guard walks up with more confidence and seizes Laren by the wrist. Laren looks around in confusion, and slowly his eyes widen in a look of immaculate surprise. Barely a second later, he crumples to the ground, causing the guard to stagger with the now dead weight of him.
The manager reads a piece of paper, then yells to the back.
“Two more burgers, Dan!”
“Heard!” Barely a second later, comes the enthusiastic reply. Another ticket rolls from the machine in front of the manager and he quickly reads this one too.
“Three more medium fries, Laren!” Again, he yells to the back.
“Heard.” This time the response is slower and lacks all the energy the previous one held.
The man named Laren moves with a lethargy that even sloths would envy. He drops the fries into the week old grease and questions why anyone would ever want to eat here. Just the smell of the place makes him want to throw up every time he arrives for work. Continuing with the same snail pace, he pours a pound of salt on the fries that are done and fills three containers with them.
“Three grilled chicken, two burgers, and six medium fries!” The manager’s voice thuds against Laren’s eardrums. He sighs to himself amidst his co-workers cheery response.
“Heard,” and he repeats the same process producing six more fries.
After his shift is over, Laren moves faster than he had all day, getting changed and leaving the restaurant. The place is similar to any fast food place in any city, dirty and cheap. A by-product of its affordability is that it's always busy, which to Laren is like his own hell on earth. He works seven days a week just to pay his bills and, on the worst days, selling his soul to the devil starts to sound like a reasonable alternative. You know what they say, ‘when in Rome’.
Laren makes the long walk back to his apartment in the approaching dark. When he gets to his place he gets undressed, watches a few episodes of his favorite show, and falls asleep.
“BEEP!BEEP!BEEP!” The alarm clock rings incessantly until Laren lazily smacks the snooze. He rolls himself out of bed, and with his eyes closed gets dressed. He puts on a fresh, ready-to-be-greased-on uniform and makes himself a cup of instant coffee before heading to the door.
He pauses in the cramped living room, looking at a framed piece of paper on the wall. On it says, ‘Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing’. Laren stands in place sipping his coffee, reflecting on the events that led to his current state of being. His parents’ told him that he should be a doctor or a lawyer, but he always wanted to be a writer. He worked all through university to pay for it, and now that he got his degree, he still works at the same fast food joint. He sighs before deciding to brave the soul sucking walk to work. When he gets to his door, he notices a necklace hanging from the handle. It has thick, silver chain links which suspend a dark gem set into an intricately decorated mold. At first glance the gem is black as ink, but when Laren looks closer, he sees swirling colors of reds and blues. He doesn’t know how it got there, but it must be worth something. He sets it on the counter before heading to work.
The day passes the same as the one before it and the one before that. The only difference is that today is saturday, so things are a bit slower. Laren still moves with a profound weariness, and his sighs echo through the day until his shift ends. At home, Laren showers and makes his dinner. He picks up the necklace while heating up water for ramen noodles and rubs the gem between his fingers. The sound of hissing water, as the pot boils over, draws him out of his fascination. He pockets the necklace and rushes to clean the mess.
While watching the same reruns of his favorite show, he thoughtlessly rubs the gem between his thumb and forefinger. In a bit of a fancy, he decides to wear the necklace. He puts it around his neck and lays back against his pillows, still idly touching it. Seemingly all at once, waves of exhaustion roll over him, slowly pulling him under.
Chapter 2:
A bright light forces its way through Laren’s eyelids, waking him. Thinking he must have forgotten to shut the blinds, he attempts to roll out of bed. That’s when he realizes that he’s laying in grass. He carefully opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. He’s in the middle of a small clearing amongst the largest trees he’s ever seen. They all stand as tall as office buildings, and just as thick. Although, where buildings have a certain structure to them, the trees branch off in their own patterns, each one unique; the only commonality being the necessity to grow upwards to catch the ever fleeting sun rays. Even in the clearing, the foliage above weaves together to block the sunlight, making the place a sanctuary of sorts. Laren can only look around in awe. As he sits there, voices begin to faintly reach him. They grow louder as they approach, then silence. Laren stands up to try and find the source, when five people materialize in the branches above him.
“Stop! What is your business?” One of the five speaks, although Laren can’t figure out which it is.
“Where am I?.” His voice is weak from shock. His response is met by quiet but intense arguments between the five, that he can barely hear.
“He’s obviously lying…”
“There’s no way he could get past us…”
“Look at his clothes, though…”
“Remember the incident…”
“That’s just a story that….”
The arguments go on for a while before some sort of conclusion seems to be made. All the while, Laren is waiting tensely for them to stop bickering. He could have tried to run, but he isn’t very athletic and would probably trip over his own feet within a couple of seconds. The five figures in black robes stand over him, reminding him of judges ready to make a sentence. The thought provokes an image of them in white, powdered wigs and only his fear outweighs the laughter bubbling inside of him.
“You’ll come back with us so the Quanny can decide what to do with you.” The tone in which the man says this reaffirms the gravity of the situation. Though he doesn’t know what the Quanny is, he realizes that it’s a serious thing. Before he can react, a man and two women come down from the trees above him and tie his hands and feet together. Then, seemingly out of thin air, they pull out a stretcher and put him on it. All this happens in mere seconds. Laren lays on the stretcher, thankful he didn’t try and run, aware that he would have surely been caught and would have looked even more suspicious.
Two of the people pick up the stretcher and they move deftly through the treetops. All Laren can see from his back is a blur of branches above him. He stays completely still; the only thing that disturbs the tranquility of the ride is the occasional touch of a falling leaf or curious bug. Slowly, the branches above him thin until the sun shines straight into his face. The stretcher comes to a stop and he is dumped onto the ground. He lands on his shoulder and grimaces. One person unties his ankles and gives a simple command.
“Walk.” Rising to his feet and looking around, he sees they are at the edge of an enormous clearing. In the middle of the clearing is a tree which absurdly dwarfs all the others. Its limbs rise high into the sky, thicker than most of the trees in the forest behind him. Sprawling from the base of the gargantuan tree is a village. There are simple wooden houses, the biggest ones being two stories tall. From this distance, the houses are the size of ants when compared to the great tree. A push comes to Laren’s back and he stumbles to catch his balance. Meanwhile, two people come to flank either side of him, while another moves in front of him to lead the way. He starts to walk along with them. The tree is much farther away than he had thought, and although they start with the sun high in the sky, by the time they make it to the village, twilight has settled. It should be brighter, but the tree has covered the setting sun entirely, leaving the village in complete darkness. It’s imposing to Laren, seeing the great tree swallow up daylight . As they make their way through the village, they have to move around, over, and ,on one occasion, below the roots of the great tree that defiantly rise above the soil. They walk straight through the village to a building built onto the side of the tree. There is a large building at ground level, and looking up Laren can see stairs leading up into the tree. Walking up to the double doors of the building, a woman comes from the shadows to stand in their way. The leader of the group goes ahead and meets her. The woman wears clothes of dark green, and tightly strapped to the top of the clothing is bark. It can only be assumed to be armor of some kind, though it's doubtful whether it could stop any weapon.
After conversing for a few minutes, the leader of the group comes back and the large double doors open slowly inward. They walk wordlessly inside, and instantly Laren is struck by the decor. On the outside, the building seems as simple as any other, but inside roots twist throughout and even support smaller trees. The entire inside reminds him of a biodome. They walk along a stone path through the center. At one point, a bird bursts from the leaves of a smaller tree and darts away. Following it with his eyes, Laren realizes that there is no roof. It opens into the night air, with the enormous tree acting as a canopy. When they approach the trunk of the great tree, there is a small pond, and five people are sitting cross-legged on pillows of leaves. There is a woman and four men, all wearing identical robes of dark brown with golden embroidery. The middle pillow is slightly behind the others and on it sits the woman. She has dark skin and her bright yellow eyes trace their movements as they approach, similar to the way a cat watches a mouse; utterly at peace, yet calculating its prey in the same nonchalance. Her long black hair blows with the occasional breeze and she doesn’t move to fix it at any point, reserving her attention to the group.
“Quanny, we have come to seek the wisdom of the great tree.” All of the guards bend down on one knee, place a fist on the ground, and drop their heads. Laren remains standing awkwardly, in the middle of the group, not sure if he’s expected to bow as well. Just in case, Laren gets down on one knee in an attempt to copy them, stifled by the rope that binds his hands behind his back. Still, he hopes the gesture will appease them in some way.
“Stand.” They all stand, Laren waiting a half a second to make sure before rising. Everyone sits in silence waiting for the woman to speak again. In the silence, Laren sweeps his eyes over the remaining members of the council. The man directly adjacent to the woman has fiery red hair and a straight, serious mouth. He meets Laren’s eyes with a caustic glare, forcing Laren to look away or be burned by his flame. Cautiously, he moves his eyes to the man at the very left end of the congregation. This man is plain looking with close cropped black hair outlining deeply tanned skin, and green eyes. He has a medium build and his face is the only feature that stands out, with three large scars comprising the majority of his face, running diagonally from above his left ear, to the right side of his neck. The remaining two members catch his attention because they seem to mirror each other. Both are men of large stature, wearing similar bored expressions under thick protruding brows. With their long, braided hair Laren is reminded of the lion statues that guard entrances to libraries. The furthest man to the right meets his eyes and gives him a lazy smile.
“I’m assuming that he’s the reason you came today.” Her tone of voice and the pressure of her gaze force Laren’s eyes back to the woman in middle.
“Yes, Kontlin. We found him half a mile inside the border. He claims to not understand where he is?”
“I see.” The woman, Kontlin, doesn’t break eye contact with Laren. He remains stock still, afraid to move. His fear isn’t because she’s menacing, at least not the type of menacing that would be found in movies or that haunted Laren’s junior high days. She doesn’t seem to be a brute, or a bully, but rather her chilly gaze disturbs Laren deeply, as if she possesses some form of hidden power. A leaf is blown into his face and he swats it away, breaking eye contact. In that moment, he realizes the foolishness of this whole encounter. Of this world, these people, and the giant tree that eclipses the sky above him. Staring up at that giant tree, he comes to an epiphany. A manic grin comes over his face and he bursts out laughing. Doubling over, he laughs until his stomach hurts. All the while, the guards around him are frozen in horror. Laren finally catches his breath enough to speak.
“This is crazy. I’m crazy. I honestly don’t know how I thought this one up.” He looks again at the great tree.
“Maybe my subconscious is telling me that I need to get out of the city,” then he looks at the rest of his surroundings, including all the people waiting for the end of his outburst.
“And I need to get out more.” One of the guards recovers from shock first, and begins to move towards him.
“Stop.” Again the woman’s voice crosses the clearing, full of steel. Laren, still grinning hysterically to himself, gets an idea. He shouts loudly, “Wake up!” Nothing happens, and Laren’s grin fades slightly for a moment. Then, he yells repeatedly, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Again nothing happens, and Laren loses all semblance of glee. There is a moment of tense silence where a different guard takes a hesitant step towards him. When nothing happens, the guard walks up with more confidence and seizes Laren by the wrist. Laren looks around in confusion, and slowly his eyes widen in a look of immaculate surprise. Barely a second later, he crumples to the ground, causing the guard to stagger with the now dead weight of him.
