Writing Explorations: Week 77, With a Jerry on Top

[The Mood is Write]

My Writing Explorations series of exercises are a chance for users to explore new concepts and practice the art of raising two fingers to Writer's Block while screaming obscenities to fickle muses: to rebel against the idea that a person requires a mythical force inside them to make new and amazing things.

No. Listen well, users: there is no being inside you waiting to be let out. You are the writer, and in this exercise, you are given a place to push not only against Writer's Block, but also against the forces of stagnation. Feel trapped in your genre? Explore a new one! Stuck with a singular archetype? Do something else! In this thread, you will not be critiqued unless you request it. Should you wish it, I will happily offer my thoughts on how it might be improved, but I will not comb looking for fixes: this isn't the place: this place is for safely trying new things and indulging a love of writing.

Shake the bars of your cell block and roar, writers!

[fieldbox=How do I take part?]You can write to one or more (or none) of the prompts, the theme in the thread title, the bonuses—hell, you can even cast aside all of what I offer if you get a different idea.

The whole point is "get writing!"[/fieldbox]

Prompts:

1. Something goes wrong, and someone he thought he could trust puts a bullet into his head. He survives, but the damage to his mind is crippling, and the ones that should have helped him do not.
2. A chance meeting. A look of pity replaced by determination. An interrupted wank. All at once, a man's life is changed.
3. As he stared at the woman who declared herself a monster, all he could remember was how her arms felt around him, and the sound of her concerned voice saying his name.
4. Never in his life before this did he expect to run errands for a goddess while being babysat by his double.

Bonus Rounds:

• Write in a random genre.
• "Oh no, (name)... Please... Don't cry, my love."
• As soon as he was introduced, he froze.
• He still wore his badge and still carried his gun. Even as age crippled him, nothing motivated him more than hearing about a child in need of help.
• "If my legacy is to throw myself in the path of a bullet to save your life, then so be it."
• "I'm way too sober for this."
• "Nobody is replacing anybody. You are you and he is he. There's room for both of you at my side."

 

[PoetLore]

Dan stayed tight to the wall, his gun low at his side near his thigh and waited for his partner to give the signal. They'd received a tip that a large exchange of cash for weapons was taking place in this dockside warehouse, and they were the team chosen to make the grand front entrance while the others came in from the rear. He watched Jack in the pale light of the half moon and the haze of the meager lighting in the warehouse parking lot, and when Jack nodded he moved quickly and kicked the door in. "POLICE! STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" He shouted as he held his gun aloft and aimed it at the group.

The men making the exchange turned to look at him, but then turned away with a huff and a few chuckles. What he was not aware of, was that he was the only cop on that team that was not on the czar's payroll and that it was becoming more and more difficult for his partner to sidetrack him. Tonight was ample proof of that fact, so they, his fellow officers had arranged this little tragic loss of one of their own to end his digging into the czar's activities. Jack stood behind Dan and shot his partner and long time friend in the head and then left him there to die. None of the others helped him either, but once all the czar's activities were done they started unloading a lot of bullets, to make it sound like a gunfight had happened in that warehouse, using some illegal weapons as well to make it look good. Jack looked down at Dan's bleeding head and let out a deep breath, "I am too sober for this," and then sent out the urgent call, "Officer down!"

The ambulance arrived, and to their shock and horror Dan was not dead. And he in fact did not die at all. He had no recollection of that night at all, though and because of it Jack figured it was not a problem to let him live, such as he was.

Dan list the peripheral vision in his left eye, the use of his right leg and arm (though he could still hold a pen if he wore a wrist brace), and the left side of his face dropped dramatically and affected his speech greatly. The most troublesome thing however was that his short term memory was only about thirty seconds long, so unless he wrote everything down he could not remember it longer than that. But, in spite of these difficulties and challenges, he emerged and continued on.

Sadly though, the process of learning to do things again with his left hand, and using a motorized chair took a toll on his wife and she left him. That had been thirty years ago, and it all seemed like a far distant thought to him, though he really couldn't remember anything past thirty seconds ago. He was aware that years were passing, as the gray in his hair now attested. He still wore his badge and he still carried his gun. Even as age crippled him, nothing motivated him more than hearing about a child in need of help. It was that very motivation that led him to start his own private investigation office, and he had trained many people in these thirty years. As much as his disabilities crippled his mind, he was still proud of what he had accomplished, in his own odd way.

He had hired a man about ten years back and he had come to think of him more as a son than an employee, especially appreciating the man's patience and compassion when having to hear the same thing five times and sometimes more. Kevin came in that morning as always with coffee and breakfast burritos for both of them. "I like these right?"

"Yes you do."

"I probably ask every day huh?"

"Yes you do. But I don't mind." he said sincerely, "Anything interesting on the machine today?"

"No idea, haven't listened to it yet." He said as he pushed the button.

"Oh Mr, Latham...*SOB*...please...*SOB*....you have to help me...*CHOKED SOBBING*"

"I really hate the crying ones..." Kevin said as he ate his burrito listening.

"My daughter...she never got off the bus today...please help me..."

The call ended abruptly and Dan looked at it blankly.

Kevin frowned, "that was weird."

"What was?"

Kevin replayed the message and then looked at the caller ID. "Good thing we pay that extra money for ID back, huh?"

"yeah...." he agreed quickly writing down the address listed and then gathering up his burrito, "I like these right?"

"You love them."

"Oh yeah ok, good." he said as he ate it and then downed his coffee. "Did we listen to the messages?"

"Yes we did. We are going to that address you wrote down."

"Oh yeah right, address." He said taking the paper and handing it to Kevin. "You have the van keys right?"

Kevin patted his chest and nodded, "I sure do. Ready to roll out and meet the sobbing lady?"

"What sobbing lady?"

Kevin played the message again, "Oh right yeah...better get it...first forty eight hours are crucial."

Kevin smiled. He loved this job, and this guy. It might be trying but the knowledge hidden in this guy's head was amazing, and he was the one that got to partake of it and benefit from it.