The Biasphere

Tusserte

Posted: Fri May 1, 2009 2:42 am EDT
Edited Last: Fri May 1, 2009 3:00 am EDT
Classification: Creative Writing

        "Where did you leave the car keys?" called the voice from downstairs, sounding in the distance like a dream long forgotten.
        "On the kitchen table, where I always leave them!" Mark yelled back, groaning as he woke from what had just been a rather pleasant dream.
It was Monday, and Mark had the feeling that this Monday wasn't going to be any different from any other Monday.  "Monday is Monday," Mark sighed as he lifted himself out of bed and down the stairs to the kitchen.
        Little did Mark know that this Monday would be very different from last Monday, and every other Monday before today.
        The birds were just beginning to poke their heads out of their nests, and were already beginning to sing the same old familiar songs as Mark shoveled cold cereal into his mouth.  It was a beautiful fall day, not that Mark really cared.  The only thought echoing through his head was the prospect of going back to bed and forgetting that he had even woken up this morning.
        "What's taking you so long?  The bus is already almost here!  Don't you know what time it is?" Mark's mother cried as she noticed that he was still awake.
        "Why can't you just leave me alone?  I know exactly what time it is," retorted Mark, without actually knowing.
        After more verbal sparring and another few minutes of scrambling around the house, Mark was in the bus and on his way to the high school.
"Don't forget to pick up the laundry after school!"  Mark's mom called after him.  Mark ignored her completely.
After a long, boring ride across what Mark was now convinced was the dullest countryside in the United States, the bus puttered to a stop in front of the dilapidated brick building.
        "Well gang, look who we have here!" were the first words to greet Mark as he stepped off the dusty steps of the bus.
        "Leave me alone, Gus," muttered Mark, already in a bad mood.
        "Feeling tough today?" smirked Gus, looking for a fight.  "Don't make me remind you of last Friday!"
        Mark mumbled something lame.  He remembered Friday all too vividly.  He was relieved that no one had noticed the bruise yet.
        "You fellers better stop horsing around and get inside," called the headmaster as she poked her head out of the school's front doors.  Mark wondered how she always had a knack for sniffing out trouble.  Hopefully she would still be around after school.
        The day was pretty uneventful.  Mark didn't participate much, letting his head rest on his creaky desk while daydreaming about faraway lands.  Daydreaming seemed to be the only thing he was good at.  He was thankful when the bell rang at 3:00 PM, but any good feelings he might have had disappeared when he saw Gus and his friends approaching him in the schoolyard.
        "You're lucky Miss Calloway came and saved your sorry behind," growled Gus as he gave Mark a hard shove.
        "I don't want to fight you," Mark echoed for seemingly the hundredth time.
        "Looks like you don't have a choice," Gus replied, punching Mark in the stomach.
        Mark doubled over and fell on the ground.  He had to hand it to Gus, the guy knew how to punch.  Laying like a corpse on the dirty schoolyard grounds as Gus sauntered off, Mark couldn't do anything but feel sorry for himself.  He hated Mondays.
        Mark waited by himself for the bus at the grungy old bus stop, but the bus never showed up.  The lengthening shadows were creeping up behind him, and Mark decided that he should start walking before it got any darker outside.  "What's a few miles anyways?  I could use the exercise," he told himself reassuringly.
        Remembering his mother's reminder, Mark stopped in at the Laundromat, which was conveniently located on the way back to his house.  Mr. Wang, the owner of the shop, was just locking up the place when Mark dropped in.
        "Hello Mark," beamed Mr. Wang as he stepped out of the front door.  "You must be here for your clothes.  I was just closing the shop, but I can go get them if you want."  He started fumbling with the heavy padlock that he had just finished adjusting for the night.
        "Hi Mr. Wang, that would be very kind," Mark replied politely as he followed Mr. Wang back inside.
        Mr. Wang hobbled into the back room and could be heard sorting through the racks of various orders.  As he stood waiting in the front room, Mark was surprised to pick up the faint smell of fresh flowers.  He loved coming to Mr. Wang's shop; something about it always reminded him of home.
        "So Mark, how are your grades in school?" asked Mr. Wang as he brushed through the arrangements of orders.  He always tried to start small talk with his customers, but today Mark wasn't exactly in the mood.
        "They're okay, I guess," came Mark's noncommittal answer.
        The conversation droned on in this manner for a minute or so, and finally Mr. Wang reappeared with several crisply ironed shirts.  Mark couldn't help but admire Mr. Wang's fine job.
        "Is something wrong, Mark?  You look troubled," commented Mr. Wang as he passed the folded clothes over the front counter.
        "It's just the kids at school," Mark said.  "It's really not a big deal."
        "Is someone being mean to you at school?" asked Mr. Wang in a surprised tone.
        "Well, I've been having trouble adjusting to high school.  That's all," Mark replied.  "I guess I just have trouble making friends around here."
        "I remember when I was your age," Mr. Wang reminisced.  "I had trouble making friends too.  I know how hard it is to be the outcast."
        "Really?  What did you do?" asked Mark, now interested.  He was glad that at least someone in the world understood the way he felt.
        "There wasn't much I could do," scoffed Mr. Wang.  He obviously wasn't too fond of the memories.  "I just tried not to let it bother me and I somehow managed."
        Mark looked down at his watch.  He was extremely late at this point and was afraid that his mother was probably worrying by now.  "Well, thanks for the support, but I'm afraid I have to go," Mark said, trying to cut the conversation short.
        "Wait, I have something for you," Mr. Wang said briefly.  In a moment he was back in the back rooms shuffling through some more piles of items.
        He came back holding a small porcelain figurine that Mark thought resembled a woman.
        "Here, take this with you," Mr. Wang said, "I used it when I was your age to bring me luck during the hard times.  I have no need for it any more; maybe it will bring you good fortune too."
        "Thanks," Mark answered, placing the small figurine in his pants pocket.  He wasn't really sure why Mr. Wang was giving this to him, but a gift was a gift, and he accepted it thankfully.  No one besides his family had ever given him a gift before.
        Mark turned the key and snuck through the front door.  He knew how late he was, and he knew that there were going to be consequences.  His parents were waiting for him in the living room.
        "Do you have any idea how late you are?  You missed dinner!" scolded his parents.
        "The bus didn't show up," murmured Mark as he placed the cleaned clothes by the door.
        After a lengthy interrogation, Mark went to bed without dinner.  He was exhausted and didn't care to defend himself.  He couldn't wait for Tuesday.
        Mark slowly closed the door to his room and dragged his heels as he went through the nightly rituals.  Upon emptying out his pockets, he recalled the figurine that Mr. Wang had given him.  Not knowing what else to do with it, he decided to place it on the dresser next to his bed.  Slowly crawling into his squeaky bed, Mark turned off the light and closed his eyes.  He soon fell into a deep sleep, unable to notice the strange light that his new figurine was emitting.
        He was shaken awake by rough hands.  Bolting upright, he found himself surrounded by a group of staring strangers.  They looked to be about his age, but he couldn't recall ever seeing any of them around before.  They were dressed in strange green clothes and carried long spears. Was this a dream?  It didn't seem like one; his senses had never been overwhelmed like this in a dream.
        "Who are you?" demanded one of the strangers.
        Disoriented, Mark didn't reply, but instead gave a startled grunt.
        "Well, what's your name?" added another stranger.
        "M-M-Mark," stammered Mark, starting to recollect his thoughts.  "What am I doing here?" he asked incredulously, still unable to fathom the situation. He definitely remembered going to bed, and was starting to think that he was going crazy.
        "That's precisely what we were going to ask you," responded another stranger.  "You are trampling on forbidden grounds.  These woods are strictly forbidden to humans."
        "Woods?  That would explain the trees."  Mark reasoned, starting to note the dense jungle currently surrounding him.  The situation was getting more confusing by the second.
        "Humans?  What does that make you?" Mark pondered, this time aloud.
        "You are the one answering the questions here!" cried one of the strangers, giving Mark a hard prod with the dull part of the spear.
        "He is under my command," called a distinctly female voice in the distance.  "I order you to release him and allow him to return to the village with me."
        "The princess orders him to be released!" spat one of the strangers, who Mark now presumed was the leader.  The circle of people around him soon parted as a carriage pulled up in front of him.  Mark was still trying to decide if this was some kind of joke.
        The door to the carriage opened and Mark was brusquely shoved inside.  He found himself face to face with a beautiful girl.  She looked about his age, but Mark wasn't sure.  He had had very little experience with girls in his life.
        "What is a boy like you doing all the way out here?" the princess asked incredulously, as if Mark was out of his mind.  Mark was starting to have doubts as well.
        "I don't know what's going on," Mark replied equally incredulously.  "One moment I was in my bed, another moment I was out here.  Who were those people and why did you help me?"
        "I had to do something.  Those people would have killed you," replied the princess.
        "It seems like I can't avoid trouble anymore," Mark reflected in a depressed tone.
        "No, you're lucky I happened to pass by.  My father owns these woods," the princess said proudly.
        "That's nice... where are we going anyways?" Mark asked.  He had already begun to hate these woods.
        "Why, to the village, where you belong, of course!" answered the princess cheerfully.  "It may be a while yet before we arrive, so you are welcome to sleep while you wait.  You look tired."
        Sleep couldn't have been more appealing to Mark.  As he slowly lost consciousness, he saw the princess smiling at him kindly and remarked to himself that he had never seen someone so beautiful.
        Mark was abruptly shaken awake by his mother.
        "Wake up!  You're going to be late for school!" came the familiar lecture.
        "What day is it?"  Mark exploded as he jumped out of bed.  His enthusiasm made his mother jump.
        "Tuesday!  Now get downstairs before and eat breakfast before you miss the bus!"
        Mark could've cared less about breakfast.  Sweeping the figurine off of his dresser and into his backpack, Mark leapt out the front door and into the street, waiting impatiently for the bus to arrive.  At school, Mark didn't run into Gus, not that anything could have distracted him from his deep thinking.  As soon as school let out, Mark practically flew to Mr. Wang's shop.  Bursting through the shop door, Mark startled all the customers inside.  Ignoring the other people in the room, Mark spotted Mr. Wang and walked over to the counter, cutting in front of several now red-faced customers.
        "This thing you gave me, it's magic!" Mark cried.  "I woke up in the middle of a magical forest, almost got speared by several angry creatures, and rode in a carriage with a princess!  You have some explaining to do!"
        "What's going on here?  Don't you see the line?" demanded a large (and now red) customer standing behind Mark.
        "Mark, can you wait until I've finished with these people here?  I can explain to you, but please be patient," Mr. Wang said worriedly.  Mark sighed with frustration and took a seat by the front window.  He absentmindedly tugged on the leaves on the giant potted plant next to him while what seemed like an eternity passed by.  Finally, the last of the customers walked out of the shop with a couple of brightly colored shirts tucked under his arm.  Mark jumped up and quickly walked to the counter, where he could see Mr. Wang ironing pants.
        "Ah, Mark, I almost forgot you were there."  Mr. Wang started apologetically.  "Now, to the point.  You were saying that..."
        "That thing you gave me.  What exactly does it do?"  Mark cut in.
        "Ah yes, the figurine I gave you.  Is that what you're here about?" questioned Mr. Wang.  Mark noticed that he didn't seem surprised.
        "Yes!" said Mark, almost shouting now.  Mr. Wang took an awful long time to get to the point.
        "When I was your age, I was given this figurine by a wise old man who told me that he had no need for it anymore.  I found that the figurine brought me good luck and would even say that it changed my life.  I was able to make friends and start a new life.  I am glad that you were able to find consolation in the figurine as well," Mr. Wang said happily as he delicately placed a pair of finished black pants on the counter and picked up another pair.  Mark thought he was hiding something.
        "Good luck?  Is that all there is to it?"  Mark interrogated.
        "With that figurine, I was able to turn my life around," Mr. Wang replied.  Mark gave him a blank look, realizing that this conversation wasn't going anywhere.
        "Well, if that's all, then I guess I'll be leaving," Mark said dejectedly.  He slumped out of the shop feeling cheated.  Cryptic old men got on his nerves.
        He rushed home (being late as it was), ate a quick dinner, and went to his room.  Before lying down on his saggy bed, he remembered to place the figurine back on the dresser.  He couldn't wait to return to the new world.
        Mark was gently woken by the soft words of a female.
        "Wake up, we're here," came the voice.
        Apparently very little time had passed in this world.  The carriage had since come to a stop and Mark finally affirmed that he was living in the Medieval Ages.  Small shacks lined a dirt road that led to nowhere.  Peasants wandered around in the dirt, looking poor but surprisingly content with their condition.  Mark almost felt sorry for them.
        "Why did we stop here?" Mark asked.
        "You live here, don't you?" responded the princess, now unsure.
        "I don't exactly have a home, but I definitely don't belong here," Mark replied, appalled by the idea of staying in this village.
        "Well, I guess you could come and live in the castle as a guest.  Only for a little while, of course," thought the princess aloud.  Mark was excited by this.  He had never been inside a castle before.  He agreed eagerly and within another hour of driving and conversation, the pair reached the castle.  During the ride, Mark explained his situation to the princess, who simply nodded compassionately even though she obviously didn't understand.  He felt a strange sense of comfort around her that he had never felt before.  Mark had never had a friend before, but he was beginning to believe that the princess and he had begun what would become a genuine relationship.
        Mark loved his newfound secret world.  With the princess, weeks turned into days, and not even the bully Gus could ruin Mark's good mood.  He had never felt happier in his life.  The figurine had changed his life just as Mr. Wang had predicted.  Mark carried the figurine around with him all the time, serving as a reminder of the princess when he was unable to be with her.  All this ended unexpectedly at the end of the school year.
        The day started like any other day.  Mark awoke from his fantasy world and cheerfully set out into reality.  He had just stepped off of the bus into the schoolyard when Gus appeared out of nowhere.
        "Hey," Gus said shortly, "I forgot my lunch.  Can I have some of yours?"
        "No," Mark said flatly, knowing that Gus would surely eat it all.
        "I don't have to ask permission from you!" Gus exclaimed, grabbing Mark's backpack and tearing it open.
        "What's this?  A little doll?" teased Gus as he spotted Mark's figurine.
        "Don't touch that!" Mark screamed.  "Give it back!"
        Gus snickered, knowing he had hit a nerve.  He took the figurine between his thumb and index finger, and simply by pressing, snapped it in half.
        Mark didn't say anything.  He couldn't say anything.  What was to say?  Everything he had lived for was lying in shards in the dirt of the schoolyard.  Mark felt faint.
        "Oops," chuckled Gus as he walked away.
        Mark, speechless, picked up the remainders of his figurine.  He had to come up with a plan.  He would take the pieces to Mr. Wang.  Maybe he could fix it.  Maybe he had another.  Maybe....
        Mark rushed to the Mr. Wang's Laundromat immediately after school.  Fortunately, Mr. Wang was available; daydreaming at the counter.  This was probably the first time Mark had ever seen him not doing something.
        "Look," Mark said in a tone so desperate that words cannot describe.
        "What happened?" asked Mr. Wang in disbelief.
        "It's broken.  Can you do anything to fix it?" begged Mark.
        "I'm afraid that I cannot fix this," Mr. Wang said sadly as he shifted the broken pieces in his hands.
        "I'm ruined," moaned Mark.  He had never felt worse in his life.
        "Why do you say that?" asked Mr. Wang.
"The figurine brought a joy to me that I've never before experienced," said Mark.  "I have never had friends before, nor have I ever felt love."
"That figurine was only a symbol.  What you felt over the past few months was simply what your heart has contained all along."  Mr. Wang said.
"You mean that I've actually been able to do this all along?" asked Mark, quite unconvinced.
"What I mean is that if you trust your heart, you will never need a trinket to realize your dreams," Mr. Wang replied.  Mark still didn't get it.
Mark left the shop and trudged home.  He barely spoke when questioned by his parents this time and just wanted the day to be over already.  That night, he did not return to his fantasy world.  This was the first uneventful night he had had in a long time.  He tried to remember the soft face of the princess on the day he first met her.  He remembered their awkward conversation when they first met, and how they spoke the same language yet couldn't understand each other.  He pictured her now in the carriage, smiling at him as she gently spoke to him.  That night, in the silence of his dreams, he thought he could hear the faint sound of a female voice calling to him, but he soon drifted off to sleep.






This is a short story I wrote in early 2008 that was supposed to put an emphasis on dialogue.  It turned out a little too dark, especially because I had to make the ending much shorter to meet the word requirement and my own time constraints.  Overall, this really doesn't reflect the style I prefer writing in; but that's how school assignments are.  It seems a little like something out of a dark fairy tale.

Tusserte

Posted: Fri May 1, 2009 2:32 am EDT
Edited Last: Fri May 1, 2009 2:32 am EDT
Classification: Creative Writing

The four boys sat on the railroad tracks.  One of them picked up a rock from the moss-covered gravel piles surrounding the metal tracks and chucked it.  The surrounding forest was quiet, as if it was hiding a secret.  The leader, Randy, listened for sirens but only heard a few birdcalls.  He figured he was probably safe for a few hours at least.  Scanning the tracks as they trailed off into the shadows, he suggested that they keep going.  The youngest one mumbled something about his back aching.  Randy told him to shut up and start moving.
        This had been going on for a few hours already.  The sun would be going down soon and traveling by dark wasn't Randy's style.  They'd have to find some sort of shelter, because there was no way Randy would be sleeping on the railroad tracks.  They'd get onto the first road that crossed the tracks.  Randy figured that there'd be an abandoned building nearby; there were always abandoned buildings in this county.  Randy sometimes joked that this county made work too easy for professionals like him.
        The group walked at a medium pace, less anxious than they had been only an hour ago.  There was no conversation, only the crunching of gravel beneath their feet as they trudged along.  Now wasn't the time for talking.  Randy, who was in charge of carrying the backpack, shifted the strap from shoulder to shoulder.  It was starting to feel heavy after all this walking, but even though it was uncomfortable, Randy wasn't about to let anyone else carry it.  He liked to stay in control, and wasn't about to let any of these morons handle what was rightfully his anyways.
        After another half hour of walking, the boys came to a narrow road that cut through the tracks.  Randy shared his plan and the boys agreed on it unanimously, relieved to have some change in scenery.  They moved out into the street, carefully spread out along the sides of the road.  They walked east for a while, letting the last rays of light sink below the horizon behind them.  Their shadows were getting longer and longer, and Randy figured it was time to find some shelter.  They saw a broken down brick building that was practically overrun by the forest.  The roof was the only thing that mattered to Randy.
        All the lights were off as far as Randy could tell, but out here there was no telling if people actually had electricity.  Randy nodded and the boys spread out, circling the beaten building.  By the looks of it this was a house, and Randy knew enough about houses to know that he didn't want to break in if people were still living there.  The first time he was ever shot at was when he broke into a house with people still in it, and he never wanted to repeat that mistake.
        The boys reported back one by one.  A couple of the windows were busted out and the back door was still boarded up.  Nothing useful, thought Randy.  That could still mean anything.  However, this was the only house the boys had seen for miles, and Randy was determined to sleep under a roof tonight.  He decided that the risk was too small to justify another hour of walking, and walked right up to the front door.
        It was locked, but this wasn't an issue for Randy.  He quietly dismantled the lock so fast that even he was surprised.  Exhaustion must have that effect on people, he mused.
        The door creaked as Randy slowly pushed it open.  He peered inside.  The lights were off; the place definitely looked old fashioned and abandoned.  The boys filtered inside, carefully taking in the sights and sounds.  After a thorough sweep of the building, Randy confirmed that there was nothing to worry about.  He understood why the previous owners had left, too.  Throughout the house, the smell of must was impossible to escape, and the giant rats certainly didn't add to the property value.  The single bedroom still had a bed; and Randy was amazed to find that it was made up as if just for him.  The other boys had to sleep downstairs, and chose to set up in the little dusty parlor room over the cramped kitchen or dining room spaces.  The situation obviously wasn't ideal, but all Randy cared about was a good night's sleep.  Things went well until the sun was just starting to come up.
        Randy was roughly shaken awake by one of the boys, who led him over to the bedroom window.  Outside, a station wagon was pulling up to the house.  Randy dropped the backpack that he had never let go of until now and scrambled downstairs where the other boys were crouching by the front window.  A look of panic was on their faces.  A hunched over old woman was getting out of the car and coming for the front door carrying several suitcases.  Randy had no idea what to do.  He felt something heavy in his pocket and he remembered the pistol.  He had used it the day the boys pulled the job.  It was still loaded.
        There was a jingle of keys outside; the lady was fumbling with the lock only to realize that it had been broken in.  Puzzled, she pushed the door open.
        Impulsively, Randy rushed her with the gun, telling her not to move.  He couldn't believe what he was doing.  The boys pulled apart the house and found some rope; they tied her up and left her yelling in a closet.  The situation had just taken a turn for the worse, and Randy couldn't believe that he had just taken a hostage.  He needed to think, he needed to come up with a plan to get out of this.  The boys checked the windows; the car outside was gone.  Had someone else been in the car?  The whole situation was too much to believe.  Randy posted the boys at the windows and took the map out of his backpack.  It was time to figure out where they were, and how to get as far away from there as possible.  A sense of dread had consumed all of them, and as the day dragged on, dread slowly turned into blind terror.
        The first police car showed up at sundown.  One of the lookouts called Randy over to the window as one officer got out of the vehicle and began slowly walking toward the front door.  Randy decided that the back door was their only escape.  He yelled at the boys to start breaking the back door down, whirled around, and fired some shots to distract the officer.  The policeman, startled, ran back to the car, apparently to call reinforcements.  More cars had arrived by the time the boys had pulled off the last stubborn boards on the back door.  The officers were getting bolder, and now a few of them were starting to move forward behind some sort of bulletproof shield.
        It was time to go.   Randy passed the gun to one of the boys and told all three of them to hold off the police while he grabbed the bag from the bedroom.  He turned and ran for the staircase as several bullets pierced the front window of the parlor.  One bullet caught him in the arm, causing him to wince as he scrambled up the creaking staircase.  He burst into the bedroom and looked around.  The bag was gone.  One of the other boys must have taken it for him.  He turned and rushed back down the stairs.  Before he could reach the bottom, another bullet caught him in the leg.
        He fell flat on his chest just as the policemen kicked the front door in.  Lying on the ground, he could see into the parlor room, where the boy he had given the gun was writhing on his back with both hands on his throat.  Blood was running between his fingers.  In a desperate attempt to flee, Randy began crawling for the back door.  The back door was wide open, and the other boys were nowhere in sight.  Randy knew they wouldn't abandon him.  Not after all he had done for them.  He was the reason why they had gotten so far.  They were good kids; he'd done jobs with them before!  That one kid, what was his name, Randy had taught him practically everything he knew!  They were coming back for him.
        The hard boot of a cop landed on his back.




Although this story may seem like a quick escapist read, I think it has a lot of underlying meaning about human nature.  Every time I reread this story, I am reminded of the famous W.B. Yeats statement, "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world".  Things really do fall apart in this short story, and the way the characters handle it shows that they are certainly not heroic protagonists.  I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)