The Captain (Sketch)
The captain walks slowly with a limp in his left leg like an injured rescue dog. His beard is a forest at midnight, a dark shade of black to contrast the pale, moonlight white of his face. His amber eyes reflect a threatening sunset. He commands his crew with a thunderous voice and the pointer finger of Zeus, lightning casted upon pointing and ordering. He wields a sharpened sword, a sharpened eye and most importantly a sharpened tongue that impales his enemies upon contact, sending them hastily to their graves. The seas and the winds obey his word and the earth trembles at his fury. As his ship is tempest tossed he stands calm, with his flask in his mouth and his finger directing the subordinate crew, attempting to save lives with conviction and determination. His dusty hands constantly hold the shoulders of his crewmen.
The Impulse (scene)
1- Were you going to say something?
2- No.
1- Oh. Okay.
(Silence)
2- I was going to say something about the weather, but I didn’t.
1- Why not?
2- I hate small talk.
1- Oh.
(Silence)
2- But it really is poring out there. It’s hard to see on the road.
1- I can tell. I think we missed our exit.
2- Did we? I wonder where we’re going then.
1- Paradise.
2- Paradise? What do you mean?
1- We’re going to die.
2- How do you know?
1- Everyone does.
2- That’s true, but it’s a very glum outlook.
1- It’s an honest one.
2- Unfortunately.
(pause)
2- We’ll be in Seattle soon.
1- I hope so.
2- Why?
1- I love Seattle.
2- Ah.
1- And the ocean.
2- Why’s that?
1- My father was a sailor. I’ve seen the world.
2- I’ve seen the world in pictures.
1- Photos?
2- Paintings.
1- Its not the same.
2- No, it’s not. It’s more than the world has to offer. I have seen majesty that the world doesn’t poses in paintings.
1- Paintings are emulation of life.
2- No, paintings are emulation of hearts.
1- I see.
(Silence)
1- I think we're here.
2- We are.
2- No.
1- Oh. Okay.
(Silence)
2- I was going to say something about the weather, but I didn’t.
1- Why not?
2- I hate small talk.
1- Oh.
(Silence)
2- But it really is poring out there. It’s hard to see on the road.
1- I can tell. I think we missed our exit.
2- Did we? I wonder where we’re going then.
1- Paradise.
2- Paradise? What do you mean?
1- We’re going to die.
2- How do you know?
1- Everyone does.
2- That’s true, but it’s a very glum outlook.
1- It’s an honest one.
2- Unfortunately.
(pause)
2- We’ll be in Seattle soon.
1- I hope so.
2- Why?
1- I love Seattle.
2- Ah.
1- And the ocean.
2- Why’s that?
1- My father was a sailor. I’ve seen the world.
2- I’ve seen the world in pictures.
1- Photos?
2- Paintings.
1- Its not the same.
2- No, it’s not. It’s more than the world has to offer. I have seen majesty that the world doesn’t poses in paintings.
1- Paintings are emulation of life.
2- No, paintings are emulation of hearts.
1- I see.
(Silence)
1- I think we're here.
2- We are.
Short Story
Waves. I was awakened by the sound of waves and the glare of the sweltering hot sun in my eyes. I sat up half blinded by the sun and waited for my vision to return to me. Even after the remnants of the suns glare disappeared from my eyes, my vision was still blurry. My glasses weren’t on and I had a headache; possibly a hangover. I was drunk the night before, but that’s all I could remember; I’m fairly sure I didn’t fall asleep on a raft in the middle of the ocean, but regardless, somehow that’s where I winded up by morning.
I was wearing a suit; On any normal day I wouldn’t fall asleep in a suit. I recognized it; it was the business suit that I would wear to work. It was stained red, but not with blood, with wine. I reached my hand behind my head as if to scratch; but instead of finding the momentary comfort from scratching my head I found a lump. The back of my head was bruised and swollen. There was no question about it, I had been tricked.
I panicked frantically, but regained control over myself; It was no use panicking, I would only lose my energy and die faster. I knew I would die, I had suspected it for a while. As a wealthy entrepreneur of a successful company the figurative bounty on my head was exceedingly high and constantly increasing. There was always someone after my money, and finally someone went as far as to abandon me on a raft in the middle of the ocean. But who? I decided to take a deep breath and think it through. I thought that maybe if I used deductive reasoning I could figure out who the culprit was. The first clue was that the man or woman left me alive, which meant for some reason the person couldn’t kill me; or maybe the murderer didn’t have the gall.
I was wearing a suit; On any normal day I wouldn’t fall asleep in a suit. I recognized it; it was the business suit that I would wear to work. It was stained red, but not with blood, with wine. I reached my hand behind my head as if to scratch; but instead of finding the momentary comfort from scratching my head I found a lump. The back of my head was bruised and swollen. There was no question about it, I had been tricked.
I panicked frantically, but regained control over myself; It was no use panicking, I would only lose my energy and die faster. I knew I would die, I had suspected it for a while. As a wealthy entrepreneur of a successful company the figurative bounty on my head was exceedingly high and constantly increasing. There was always someone after my money, and finally someone went as far as to abandon me on a raft in the middle of the ocean. But who? I decided to take a deep breath and think it through. I thought that maybe if I used deductive reasoning I could figure out who the culprit was. The first clue was that the man or woman left me alive, which meant for some reason the person couldn’t kill me; or maybe the murderer didn’t have the gall.
Intro
I'm not a writer yet, just a young man who wants people to hear his philosophies and ideas. Even though I'm not a writer, I've been speaking English for over 15 years now, so I believe I have potential.
I'm not an avid reader, but I am very interested in literature. I first realized this when I read "Harry Potter" as an 8-year-old boy. Since then I've moved on to more advanced works, but when I read Harry Potter I was captivated by the world J K Rowling created, and I wanted to be a part of that world more than anything. Since then my favorite works have been The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, The Foundation by Isaac Asimov, Hamlet by William Shakespeare and Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. Victor Hugo today is my greatest inspiration to write, because his prose is absolutely beautiful; the kind of prose I would like to see myself create.
My least favorite writer is Orson Scott Card. No offense, Card fans, but I thought Ender's Game was poorly written trash. It had the same plot as the first book in the Harry Potter series, but I don't consider J K Rowling a plagiarist since she wrote the book so much better than Card. I guess I just couldn't find a book appealing where all of the characters reminded me of my younger brother when he was 8-years-old.
My favorite genre's of writing are good sci-fi (ex. Isaac Asimov), good historical fiction (ex. Alexandre Dumas), good plays (Ex. William Shakespeare; Neil Simon) and good satire (ex. Dave Barry). I also respect some fantasy, western and horror (J.R.R Tolkien; Louis L'Amour; Stephen King) but seldom do I become entranced in the text.
As a writer I plan on writing sci-fi, fantasy, plays, screenplays and satire. I know I said I wasn't easily entranced by fantasy, but the fantasy I plan on writing will be very mild fantasy and will be used for analogical purposes. I'm very excited about many of the ideas I've already formulated in my head in each one of those categories, and I aspire to attain the tools and abilities it takes to put those ideas on paper.
I firmly believe that with a heart, a mind and a keyboard I can change the world. I look forward to the day my ideas fleet from my mind onto paper, and from the paper into the eyes of people to further share the excitement before them. The day someone is inspired by my works, I will become a writer. But until then, I am just a young man who wants people to hear his philosophies and ideas.
