Thursday, December 30, 2010
BREAKING NEWS!
After a month or so of talking and planning, my friends and I have decided to launch a clothing line. Coinciding with this company, we will be developing and maintaining a new blog, covering topics such as music, movies, clothing, news, etc. (and anything people want us to talk about). We want our customers - and possible fans - to have the utmost accessibility to us and our product. In reality, I highly doubt anybody follows this blog actively, but I am content with that; it'll be on the back-burner while the other is created and edited. However, for those of you who do check out my writing whenever I (rarely) write something new, please help us out and spread the word. There is a reason our generation is referred to as Generation Y, or the Millennials; our upbringing and education have been delivered alongside the stunning evolution of technology and social media. The connectivity of our species has grown exponentially since the early introductions of the Internet, to the point where Facebook can be deemed the third largest country in the world. Again, I ask for your assistance in distributing the creation of the blog, which soon will be easily accessed by going to stay-original.tumblr.com. Spread the word y'all!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Gumshoe
3 AM. The snow is heavier than predicted, collecting in heaps on the icy roads outside the apartment building. Freezing puddles form in the recesses of the street, splashing onto passerby with each passing car. The smoke drifts from my mouth as I blow out the last puff of my cigarette. The bitter taste of nicotine burns at the back of my throat and reminds me of everything I've seen tonight. Everything that has led me back to my place and has me standing where I am now, pulling my long coat closer to my body as a cold wind sends a shiver coursing through my limbs; or is it the adrenaline? Regardless, I reach into my pocket and pull out the .45 and my final clip, load the chamber and cock back the hammer. This M1911 and I have spilled a lot of blood tonight in search of answers, each victim whispering a name before I painted their walls with crimson. With every dead body there was a new person to find, leading me onward like a bloodhound with its nose to the ground, catching the scent of my prey. Hard to believe this is how it's all going to end. My right hand opens the door and I start to climb the stairs, quietly tiptoeing up each step. On the second floor, I turn down the hallway and read the numbers on the doors; 204, 206, 208. Finally, I hold my breath and stare at the door to apartment 214. Voices inside, three or four, all men yelling and laughing with one another. The stench of cigars and whiskey and sweat creep under the door while music plays in the background. I shake off the nerves and knock; instantly the music stops and the voices drop to whispers. The scuffing sound of a chair scraping against the wooden floorboards seem to echo throughout the entire building as footsteps approach the door. "Who's there," a deep voice asks; the distinct sound of a handgun being cocked follows the silence. Once I see the shadow of his feet, I lift my leg and kick down the door...
Monday, May 10, 2010
The Abduction of Mia
New piece I have written for the story, this one helps to explain the origin of Mia's violent nature and what leads her to kill.
Mia was eleven years old when she was kidnapped by two men outside the supermarket in her town. Her mother had gone back inside to collect some forgotten items from the shopping list, leaving Mia alone for just a few minutes. She doesn’t remember their exact words, but she will never forget the tall man’s toothy grin and the short man’s sweaty palms. By the time she realized they weren’t taking her home, it was far too late to call for help.
Night fell and Mia no longer recognized where they were. They had been driving into the heart of Montana for what seemed like hours and Mia was exhausted. The men pulled down a long stretch of dirt road and pulled up at a one level house, which looked more like a shack than a home. The windows had been boarded shut and sealed, broken shards of glass gathered in a pile underneath the window sill. The white paint was chipped away and showed the rotted brown guts of the wood underneath. Termites dined on the splinters and gnawed at the knots, leaving tiny craters in the walls and stairs leading into the house. Mia recalls the musty scent of mold and moisture emanating from the basement as she was carried down the stairs and placed into a small cot. The small light bulb offered little visibility as it swung gently in the middle of the room, moved occasionally by a small drift from the cracks in the wood. Each time they came downstairs, she would look only at the light through watery eyes, eventually weeping silently while her childhood ebbed away. The food they gave her afterwards was solely for their own benefit; skinny girls were not to their liking.
Days passed outside the windows but she couldn’t tell how many. The light bulb eventually died and Mia was cast into the Darkness. For almost four days she was held in total blackness, the visits became more sporadic and unorganized as time crawled on. They preferred coming in the dark, which left Mia all alone during the few hours of daylight. Each night the door opened, Mia’s heart hammered at her chest and her headed started to spin, vomit threatened at the back of her throat. She began to fight back, scratching at their faces and hands, biting whatever they put near her face. The more they came, the harder she fought. By the third day, she had used enough time and sunlight to fashion a jagged blade from a rusty piece of her cot, having ground the metal against the concrete floor. The short man came first, the tall man waited upstairs for his turn. In the pitch black room, there was no light to reflect off the metal; he never saw it coming. Instinct told her to kill him right away, but the Darkness made her wait. She felt his breaths get shorter and louder, and knew it was time to strike. Even with no light she could tell where his face was and stared up at him as she stabbed his neck over and over. Blood pooled around her and she pulled herself from underneath his lifeless body, tiptoeing up the stairwell to the first floor. At the top of the stairs she peeked through the open door and saw the tall man with his back to her, seated at a table and newspaper in hand. An axe rested on the wall behind him, within her reach. She crept out from the basement stairwell and gripped the axe with both hands, and raised it above his head before she brought it crashing down on his skull. The only identifying piece of his head were his teeth, spread across the kitchen table and floor. Mia was found walking down the highway, the dress she had been wearing when she was first caught was covered with blood. The officers said she was eerily calm.
Copyright Liam Feldstein © 2010
Mia was eleven years old when she was kidnapped by two men outside the supermarket in her town. Her mother had gone back inside to collect some forgotten items from the shopping list, leaving Mia alone for just a few minutes. She doesn’t remember their exact words, but she will never forget the tall man’s toothy grin and the short man’s sweaty palms. By the time she realized they weren’t taking her home, it was far too late to call for help.
Night fell and Mia no longer recognized where they were. They had been driving into the heart of Montana for what seemed like hours and Mia was exhausted. The men pulled down a long stretch of dirt road and pulled up at a one level house, which looked more like a shack than a home. The windows had been boarded shut and sealed, broken shards of glass gathered in a pile underneath the window sill. The white paint was chipped away and showed the rotted brown guts of the wood underneath. Termites dined on the splinters and gnawed at the knots, leaving tiny craters in the walls and stairs leading into the house. Mia recalls the musty scent of mold and moisture emanating from the basement as she was carried down the stairs and placed into a small cot. The small light bulb offered little visibility as it swung gently in the middle of the room, moved occasionally by a small drift from the cracks in the wood. Each time they came downstairs, she would look only at the light through watery eyes, eventually weeping silently while her childhood ebbed away. The food they gave her afterwards was solely for their own benefit; skinny girls were not to their liking.
Days passed outside the windows but she couldn’t tell how many. The light bulb eventually died and Mia was cast into the Darkness. For almost four days she was held in total blackness, the visits became more sporadic and unorganized as time crawled on. They preferred coming in the dark, which left Mia all alone during the few hours of daylight. Each night the door opened, Mia’s heart hammered at her chest and her headed started to spin, vomit threatened at the back of her throat. She began to fight back, scratching at their faces and hands, biting whatever they put near her face. The more they came, the harder she fought. By the third day, she had used enough time and sunlight to fashion a jagged blade from a rusty piece of her cot, having ground the metal against the concrete floor. The short man came first, the tall man waited upstairs for his turn. In the pitch black room, there was no light to reflect off the metal; he never saw it coming. Instinct told her to kill him right away, but the Darkness made her wait. She felt his breaths get shorter and louder, and knew it was time to strike. Even with no light she could tell where his face was and stared up at him as she stabbed his neck over and over. Blood pooled around her and she pulled herself from underneath his lifeless body, tiptoeing up the stairwell to the first floor. At the top of the stairs she peeked through the open door and saw the tall man with his back to her, seated at a table and newspaper in hand. An axe rested on the wall behind him, within her reach. She crept out from the basement stairwell and gripped the axe with both hands, and raised it above his head before she brought it crashing down on his skull. The only identifying piece of his head were his teeth, spread across the kitchen table and floor. Mia was found walking down the highway, the dress she had been wearing when she was first caught was covered with blood. The officers said she was eerily calm.
Copyright Liam Feldstein © 2010
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