Post by "Unfettered" on Sept 23, 2012 23:31:59 GMT -8
The following is just something I made for my English 104 class. The writing limitation is 10 pages and/or 3000 word cap, double-spaced, Times New Roman, font size 12. Meteorite Cough ended up being 2,195 words, at 7 pages. This was my second turn in for last semester and this was its second draft. This has already been peer-reviewed, but I have made no changes from said peer-review. Originally, I had intended to maybe go over some of these works and then post then up here for some laughs and perhaps further critiquing to improve further on this, but there's been not enough time and other obligations stopping me from doing so. This may be a slightly confusing piece, but I hope it makes sense!
Rolling waves of fog caked over the coastline of Long Beach in the night. A miserable waning crescent moon could scarcely even penetrate into the deep layers of the cloud as it nestled its body comfortably over the still vibrant city. Citygoers, partygoers, and escapists lined Long Beach’s sidewalks thinly this evening with word spread on the news of potential rain for the evening and storm reports of dangerously high waves to rage at the coasts. Hence, the city was mostly populated by only the most dedicated of bargoers, leaving the wet beaches barren. It was there on the beach, beneath one of the volleyball nets, that Nick DeMance collapsed, face first.
Nick’s face erupted from the beach, spitting out grains of sand, saliva getting caught and clinging down to his chin while the sand clung at the strands. His pale forehead was scratched and dirty, a few bit of sandjutting out from the freshly opened wound, letting a small stream of blood stream down over his left nostril, intermingling with his frustrated tears. He spat and spat, rubbing his dirty, small hands over his mouth, growling pathetically at himself. It had been another typical day of high school. Another typical day coming home. Bullies, theft, yelling, disappointment, bad grades, and no one, not even his comatose mother to take refuge in, like some terrible “Lifetime” drama series. Resisting the sobs that threatened him in his throat, he slowly pushed himself up, a good 5’8 feet tall, square face, dark brown hair, a hooded black jacket tugging at his chest a bit uncomfortably with loose jeans and Nike sneakers. Sand fell away from his slouched body as he stood there, stewing in his own emotion.
…In time to see a dim light in the sky, growing brighter. It rocketed through the air with a thunderous whistle, eating away into the fog. For the self-consumed boy, it would have been nothing of consequence except that this bright light was rocketing right towards him. Nick only had a moment to gasp and hold up his hands in front of his face before the falling star fell into the ocean, shooting a wave ten feet high and reaching all the way to him. The wave washed over him completely, throwing him onto his side and tumbling him through the sand, before it began rapidly sucking him out to the ocean. Floundering his arms, he grunted in silence, groping at the sand, as the water began to rush completely past him. He gasped, as he emerged from the water… feelings his legs dangling over an edge. Face covered in salty water, he teared up… but could feel the unmistakable feeling of something warm. The water around him crackled unnaturally with an abnormal level of warmth in all this cold. It would take the boy a few more minutes to get his eyes clear…
…To see the meteorite that still smouldered in front of him. Vapor was thick in the air as the water quickly evaporated, but cooling the fallen chunk just as quickly, the sand around its immediate impact blasted into glass. Even as the boy looked at the fallen star, he noticed that it was unnaturally smooth, shiny as marble, blacker than the night. In between his pants and heaves he saw that the meteorite almost seemed to possess an unnatural gravity, completely native to itself. Curiosity gripped the boy and the water had ceased its boiling around it so he reached to touch the thing, everything else on his mind having swept away along with the water in every sense of the matter.
‘It’s a meteorite,’ he thought, ‘It’s a meteorite.’
Excitement began to fill the void in his chest.
‘It’s a meteorite!---‘ he realized, more excitedly. The potential of monetary value was high, Nick figured, but would need to make some calls to places and see. The unlikelihood of this sequence of events struck him as highly coincidental to not have had the universe repurpose itself solely for him. Yes, he believed that this was something amazing, just for him. In this, Nick was not totally wrong.
The smooth, black sphere felt lukewarm in his hands and he found himself hugging it closer towards his stomach, his jacket uncomfortably crumpling in on it. Slowly he got up, to begin walking home with his find, but the next few seconds were a blur. The “meteorite” cracked. In the span of a few seconds, a black substance seemed to gesticulate out, flowing, producing four spindly looking legs that were each barely two inches long. The center of its mass rose up rapidly, and a horizontal hole opened up, as though to make room for an eye. In the suddenness of all the abrupt movement, Nick dropped the cracked remains of the meteorite, began flailing his arms about him wildly, and loosed a bloodcurdeling scream, but the spider-like being’s pincer “legs” clung to his skin tightly. Of course, the faster that Nick moved, the tighter the thing walked up his left arm, the more it broke actual skin. Not until thirty-seven seconds had passed did Nick’s legs give out on him and he fell backwards into the sand, the strange, spider-thing was still on him, having rested at the top of his left shoulder. And then, the thing chirped and nuzzled its core next to Nick’s neck.It was the same lukewarm he had felt and just as smooth, but a livelier feeling burst from this thing.
“…Huh,” Nick stated, dumbfounded, jaw slightly ajar.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was 8:07 PM by the time that Nick got back. Since the thing had stayed leaning next to his neck for the remainder of his sluggishly drenched walk back, he determined it to be not hostile and named it Franklin. Franklin didn’t seem to quite care, contented merely by shifting its core so that the strange hollow hole that ran through it seemed to be “looking” everywhere. The moment Nick got into his room, the thing jumped off onto the bed and clambered about at an extraordinarily fast speed and retracted its legs back into itself. This gave Nick the time he needed to change and shower, after making sure that Franklin wasn’t going anywhere or being particularly destructive. Like a turtle, Frank went to immediately lay still in its oval shape of its compacted form. Finding that his room wasn’t an abhorrent mess upon his return, Nick cautiously poked and prodded at Franklin, fear staving him off from doing something drastic like trying to pick up Frank and shattering it on the ground, but felt that the density was much stronger than glass. Resigned, that night Nick slept on his white carpeted floor while Franklin rested next to the pillow on his bed.
…Upon waking up, he immediately stood up, looking around wildly. All he saw were the blank, white walls on all four sides and the dull beige door. Franklin was nowhere to be found. A dream, he considered. Relief finding its way with him, Nick went out of his room and into his bathroom to take care of basic hygiene and everything seemed to be going swimmingly until, while in the shower, he found a set of spindly legs offering him the shampoo.
After two straight minutes shrieking in the empty house, his father having already left for work, Nick found himself seated on several rows of produced spindly legs that all seemed to jettison out in their versatile multitude from the core, where the see-through hollow was again. Franklin shook its core about, insisting and perhaps slightly impatient… until Nick began to realize what was happening. For the next thirty minutes, he began his daily hygienic ritual with twenty extra sets of “hands” to help him.
It was pleasing. But while the blade-like-legs continued to assist him, a wide swing of a leg caught him by surprise, resulting in a five minute choke. Just an accident.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
This “host-helper” relationship continued on for the next ten days. Nick would wake up, Franklin would help groom him, then skitter its on way to the floor, out of anyone’s sight and resume hibernating next to Nick’s pillow. Having gotten over his fear by the third day, Nick began sleeping on the bed again, noting Franklin as immobile as a cellphone.
It would have been no surprise to Nick from the way Franklin carried itself about if he only seemed to groom and hibernate, but the fridge seemed to be emptying faster, the house was cleaner, and his internet’s history was filled with many voided urls. However, Nick didn’t seem to notice this all too much as school seemed to be going better without his noticing. The bullies seemed to stop turning up. His grades seemed to be rising… The only thing he would have to complain about was the worsening cough that he seemed to have developed.
But on the eleventh day, his first period class had half the people in it. He had officially missed his dad every day successfully and never seen his car on the way to the bus stop. The school itself seemed to have grown scarce. That night, Nick rested, not bothered, but puzzled, his throat sore from coughing. All of a sudden Franklin chirped for the second time ever. When Nick opened his eyes, he saw Frank with his four legs out, his core slowly shaking as it loomed down on him, its legs piercing the pillow case. In an instant, Nick’s questions turned into paranoia. But Franklin just seemed to be looking around, its legs scything around, as though searching for… something.
…That night, Nick had a nightmare. There was the Grim Reaper with his scythe and there was Nick standing in front of him. The Reaper had his hood drawn over his face, gloved hands folded over his scythe, towering over Nick by about two feet, yet Nick didn’t seem to feel scared. They just faced one another.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The twelfth day began with a phone call. No sooner had Nick picked it up that he found himself running along to the hospital, where his mother rested in her comatose state. Her heart was failing and was on the verge of collapse. Not that he noticed, but Franklin was nowhere to be found… and the collar of his white t-shirt had small blood stains running over it.
Nick found himself standing at the bedside of his mother. Standing over his mother, with twenty pincer legs and arms… was Franklin. It stared at Nick with that gaping hole, gesticulating slowly with all its legs… And for the first time, looking around, Nick realized that none of the nurses and doctors that looked around at them seemed to notice anything. In fact, he hadn’t even noticed his father who was standing over his mother.
Nick looked questioningly at Franklin. Bringing its core up and down, Franklin seemed to acknowledge this… rapidly coiling its arms and making new ones, it began to make equivalent shape of a human body. For the first time, the core seemed to glow a different color. As the body began to flesh itself out… flesh seemed to grow from the core and over the body and then a cloak of black…
“Thank you for the food,” stated an unearthly female voice. The cloak hung over Franklin’s face so Nick couldn’t see Frank’s apparent true face, but his mind began to register just how much of the past few weeks he actually remembered. Scraps, details, lines, paragraphs. Unsure of how he felt, Nick continued to stare at Frank, as it silently slid closer to him…
“You’ve been a good host. I nibble, I nibble, and I nibble away at you, but you continue to persist. Your memories die, but you continue on. But I must ask…” Franklin stated as she slowly raised her hands to the sides of her hood, slowly pulling them back. Revealing Franklin’s face. Revealing Frankie’s face. Frankie, his mother. It stared sadly.
“Is it okay? I feel… so weak, so drained…
“Can I pull the plug, Nick?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
For a moment, Nick woke up. Actually woke up. He saw his mother, crying over him. He saw his workaholic father, grasping his hand. He saw the doctor as he pulled the plug. He felt the syringes sticking sorely out of his arms, the mask held over his face, the tube that was shoved down his throat… There was no personality that remained of the twenty-four year old man, nothing left to go back to from the nine years he had spent in a coma. The power that kept his heart pumping stopped and for moment there was peace.
Then Nick coughed. He coughed until it got worse. He coughed until there was blood. He coughed until…
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
