I've never really done stream of consciousness writing before. I think I'm usually too self-conscious for that kind of thing - always self censoring myself before it can even get out of my head and onto the page. Then again, I haven't done much of any writing lately (school papers don't count), and that's partly how this started. Sometime last week I took an afternoon nap, and upon waking, felt the sudden urge to write something, and that's where all this came from. I'd forgotten about it until just this instant, when I stumbled upon it sitting there in some folder burried deeply within my computer, and figured "hey, why not post this on the barb?" So without further adieu, here they are. (if you're curious, some of them are meant to sort of fit together, as if they were scenes from all different parts of the same book... I just haven't written the middles yet  )
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His original intention was to write a book that should only be read on airplanes.
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“Don’t believe everything that you hear.” It was more of a whisper than a threat, and made him feel at home rather than uneasy. In retrospect, he wasn’t sure which would have been the better way to feel.
There was a telephone ringing and he rose slightly out of his seat to answer it before he realized it was only on T.V.
“Or read for that matter. They’re getting so liberal with the restrictions on the press nowadays. It’s sad what they can get away with, really.”
A breeze blew through the open window, offering a momentary digression from the stiff, musky air that hung so heavy in the room, and then leaving it still and hot and dank again.
“But anyway, be careful is all I’m saying.”
A glass of water teetered on the edge of the bedside table. Its side was covered in a thin layer of dust. God knows how long it had been before someone had last taken a drink.
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“I don’t think you should be giving people permission like that. It’s dangerous. It involves things the company would rather not deal with. I mean, who knows how many deranged sick fucks are out there on the street everyday, trying to get inside this place, trying to find out what we have, what we know, trying to bring us down. You know what I’m saying?”
He didn’t. And he kept on nodding.
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His voice cracked as he strained to say something, and it all came out broken and garbled anyway, “I- I can’t- arrrh, Jesus, I just-” he let out a loud, rough cough, and seemed to be gasping for air, leaning his neck back, opening his mouth wide and letting out a dry, dry sound, like dust escaping an ancient something or other. Then in a single swift motion he whipped his head forward and dove for Tom, grabbing his shoulders and pushing his face within an inch of his. “You’ll have to do it for me… I don’t know how else… shit… fucking… FUCK…arrg…” and like some great dying beast he keeled over with a thud, bringing down the table and the glass of water with him.
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So what do you think? Are any of them worth developing further? Any suggestions for where I could go with them?
And it'd be nice if we used this thread as a place for everyone who wanted to to add their own stream of consciousness dablings as well. |
