Tales of the Unexpected (or what ever floats in my mind)! Part One

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“Every writer I know has trouble writing” Joseph Heller

Tales of the Unexpected (or what ever floats in my mind)! Part One

“This written tale is based on the prompt:”Four-hundred words. One at a time. Go.”

I woke up, when I was born, no sooner, no later. That was as stupid an opening line as “Once upon a time” or “It was a cold and rainy night”, but I thought I was being clever in starting the tale with a joke. You who follow my writing may have noticed the humouristic twist in most tales, at least at some point. For the life of me, I cannot write serious, not matter how I try. Maybe I would have a career in joke writing or scetches for “Saturday Night Live” or similar shows.

OK, so the agreed process for this tale is: Absolutely no censorship in this tale, my mind freely flowing as my fingers do the typing. I am no longer in command of this vessel. What ever is written on these pages is purely fictional as produced by the army of voices living in my head. I was thinking of cheating of course, thinking before writing, plotting my way into this tale.

After emerging from the deep state I was in, I decided to finally let go, to leave it alone, to not think too much and see what will develop. Apart from the typos caused by my fingers not being able to keep up, this is all just a flow of the mind. I know it is crowded in there, despite the fact the sign implies there is “room for rent”. My occupants like to play tricks on me and those who might take a glimpse to my brain.

Funny things those renters of mine. I prefer to use that word rather than thinking this is a permanent situation. I do hope, that, at some point the other voices will take their leave and I can finally make decisions on my own. Whether that be writing or something else. Mostly it is writing though. When I do decide to let go, the writing is usually good, so I really shouldn’t be taking any credit. But someone once said, A good writer borrows, a great writer steals.

Oh, oh, I am stuck now, either the others went on a break or then they are all napping. I am actually wondering how familiar and TV-oriented this sounds. I do sound like a Borg drone from Star Trek, don’t I. “I can’t hear the others, I need the others to survive!” must be the most quoted line in the franchise when the Borg characters are in play.

But I digest, I mean digress ;P

Flow of mind or the lack there of. A while back I wrote a funny note on my mind having too many tabs open. Oddly enough, that was not fiction but fact. I do like to dabble more on the fiction than the fact side, never getting too personal, but I have a warm feeling inside of me. Guess I am safe as long as it doesn’t run down my legs! But so far so good.

So, back to fact or fiction, was that what I was talking about? No, it was the thing of too many things occupying the brain at one point, hence the tabs and open thing. OK, back on track. So yes. That actually has a link to the ever so talked about writer’s block. The only blockage I have or have had for the past fifty odd years is or was the fact that I do censor myself, a lot. I have so many ideas, causing my mind to overflow.

Currently, as I started my writing life for the third and hopefully charmed time, I will let myself write what ever I want, who ever I want and where ever I want. Sans all the self doubt, drama and excuses. Oh my! Now I am finally getting serious! I actually got a little serious there a day or so back when I poured my heart and thoughts to a few darker poems. I admit I use humour as a cover and rather than dwelling on real life issues, I crack a joke.

I freely admit to the following personality traits: I am sarcastic, pessimistic, I have a warped sense of humour, I am spontaneous yet conscious, I am lazy, but also industrious, at least when work is concerned, personal life not so much. So now you know. I like to hide but remain right in the open. I talk a lot, but say nothing.

Back to the topic again, (I seem to be loosing the track now constantly), what ever that was, I actually forgot at this point. Oh yes, free flow of the mind. So not a jogy, not a Vulcan, not logical, just your average everyday humanoid being. So that is my life story or sort of story. At least what I came up with today. I guess this is more than four hundred words. I don’t know how much of myself I have revealed in this little mind tale, but read between the lines or over the lines. Somewhere there, between, lies the truth.

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More Tales of the Unexpected

The Treasure Hunters, Part One

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“Not all treasure‘s silver and gold, mate”
Jack Sparrow, Pirates Of The Caribbean: The Curse Of The Black Pearl

The Treasure Hunters

It was just another day at the office. The lost and found box weekly walk through task had fallen on my desk this week. Procrastinating on starting the tedious job, I decided to get a refill for my coffee and take the box to an empty meeting room and sort out the lot there on the conference table.

I was starting with the task at hand, pulling each item and sorting them to their respective piles on the table. An odd glove, an empty wallet, a photo frame with a photo of a Disneyland visit, a few coins, when a crumpled piece of paper caught my eye.

I picked it up, curious, because the paper was yellow and thick, nothing like the printer papers we used for the office. It seemed older and more delicate somehow. I carefully unfolded the lump in my hand, and bit by bit, I had it fully open and spread in front of me. I could not believe my eyes.

The X marks the spot indeed; I was looking at what seemed to be, a treasure map and a price to seek.

I kept staring at the map in front of me, wondering if it was someone’s idea of a joke or the real deal. As I stared deeper and deeper into the mysterious map, I felt a dizziness and suddenly, I was surrounded by thick fog. A whooshing sound and there I was, standing on a beach, transported to an unfamiliar place.

The sun was shining warmly, seagulls above me, screeching. The waves gently rolling across the sand. I, myself, barefoot, dressed in fashion resembling an eighteenth century cabin boy. This was a completely different outfit to what I had been wearing before, not to mention the lack of footwear.

I scanned the distance and saw a tall ship. The crew was getting ashore and carrying many a boxes. The men were dressed in similar old fashion clothing I was and oddly enough, the whole set up resembled a scene from a pirate film.

I wondered whether my eyes were deceiving me, had I fallen asleep and was dreaming or had I just lost it all together. I pinched myself and felt the pain. “Great!” I said out loud in a sarcastic tone. Either I had stumbled into a wormhole or other dimension, this was actually real!

I started slowly walking towards the ship. It would be my best option to get more info on what was going on. Just hoping these people, who ever they were, would be the friendly sort.

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART TWO

Time for a Reality Check?

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Part Three of REALITY? WHO’S BRILLIANT IDEA WAS THAT?

reality?-rant

“It is strange because sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book”

Time for a Reality Check?

So there I was, in the middle of the woods, all by my lonesome. No where to hide, no where to run.
I was in for a challenge. Not only because of me detoxing from the fiction I was greatly hooked up on at this point, but also living in an archaic house without any creature comforts.

I watched the car drive off, and then I was finally alone. Time to start the battle with the demons!
I went inside the wooden cabin finding a layer of dust settling on the surfaces. Sighing deeply and thinking ‘Welcome to the labour camp’. Placing my rucksack on the chair closest to me, I rolled up my sleeves and started cleaning up.

Windows and door open to get the air circulating. Making do with an old broom to swipe the floors. Luckily I had brought some cleaning wipes with me. Those would come in handy while dusting the surfaces.

A few hours later I looked around and the place was spick and span clean. It was time for the evening meal and I was unpacking my bag. I had several cans of food, some crackers and a juice canister. Now all I needed was water and wood!

The rest of my day went pretty much doing chors like cutting wood and hauling water from the well.
A few more hours went by and I was inside getting the wooden stow started. When the fire was burning nicely, I opened one of the cans, pea soup of course, good for any camper!

It was night fall and I had my little oil lamp burning and the fire was going keeping me warm. It had been a little bit of an effort, but luckily some smart Alec had written instructions now hanging on the wall next to fireplace.

So there I was without a care in the world, my stomach full with soup and juice. I was wondering how people managed to get anything else done in the olden days. Most of the daylight hours seemed to be wasted on cleaning and gathering necessities for meal preparation.

Then I realized I needed to use the facilities. Unfortunately there was only an outhouse and it was a bit tricky to navigate there in the dark. I had my torch with me so that helped a little. I just hoped no wildlife were close by feeling peckish and thinking I was food.

The routine for the two week period was pretty much the same every day. Get up at dawn, because the birds were screaming in the trees, hunt and gather for nourishment. The cottage grounds actually had a pretty good assortment of various berries and luckily it was the season for most of them.

In the end, I did not even miss reading, anything, fiction or otherwise. I didn’t have time, when the real life hit me hard, and using a log to do it!

Let’s see what happens when I finally get back home, where all the temptations await me!

reality-check-101-4c

Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?

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Part Two of Serially Lost in Fiction

reality-check-101-4c

“Losing an illusion makes you wiser than finding a truth”  Ludwig Borne

Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?

“You really need to pull it together and clean up your act!”

The words still echoing in my head from the intervention. The whole thing had made me extremely angry. But after my initial tantrum had subsided, I was willing to admit I had a problem.

So now, I needed a plan, but it was going to be hard. I had two choices, to gradually wean myself off of all that fiction and fantasy or go cold turkey. I estimated it would take around two to three weeks or so either way. I chose the latter option. I did not trust myself, suspecting the gradual way I would only make excuses and not read any less.

The options at hand would be then to:

a) Get rid of every single piece of technology or readable book.
b) Lock myself in an empty room at home.
c) Travel to a far away place, preferably a cottage in the middle of the forest somewhere without any creature comforts.

I chose plan c. It seemed the best option, since my family owned a cottage some hundred kilometers up north. There was no electricity, no running water, basically nothing but survival against the wilderness. Well, to be honest, the nearest shop was only five kilometres away, so not a god forsaken place after all.

Since the margin of me running off mid process, my family opted to drive me there and I would then have a bike to use for my trips to buy groceries. And that being my only option of transportation, it would be highly unlikely I would run off on a bike.

So it was agreed and I was on my way to the cottage in the woods with only my necessities.

reality?-rant

Next stop: Time for a Reality Check?

Serially Lost in Fiction

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“Row, row, row your boat, Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream.”

Serially Lost in Fiction

Writer’s note: This content is the work of pure fiction and is in no way associated to the writer ;P

The best guideline for any writer is to read, read and read some more. With all available resources, carrying a “book” around is easy as pie and you can read anywhere. There is a downside to this though and I found that out the hard way: I got caught between the realm of reality and fantasy.

It started slowly, reading a short story here, another there. Then things started to escalate. I was hooked up on longer stories, even sequels and serial ones. It had gotten to the point where I was reading on the bus stop, in the bus, at lunch, on coffee break. When I got home from work I could not wait to rush through my daily chores and emerge myself in more stories.

Feeling like the children who found Narnia, I was devouring all kinds of the stories. Re-enacting some of them in my sleep. Even taking part in conversations with my imaginary new friends in my head.

Staying up until late hours, reading, reading, reading. Sleep was scarce, almost non-existent. Drinking lots of coffee was the only remedy to somehow muddle through my work days. Even during the day fantasizing of the time I was back home and able to fully concentrate on my reading.

Then I got a wake up call. It was in the form of an intervention from my family and friends. I was on my way from work like usual and happily thinking on my next read. And there they were, sitting in the living room, waiting for me. Not a tablet, laptop, book reader nor an actual book in sight!

They sat me down gently and told me in no small way how my constant reading was affecting them.
I could not believe they would dare confronting me like this. After all, I was only reading for leisure.

Bewildered and utterly distraught I dwelled in self pity for a few days. Locking myself in my room and reporting in sick. I decided “to hell with it” and emerged in even more reading. For four days and four nights apart from potty breaks I read anything and everything.

After those days, I guess something got me thinking. Could have been the sleep deprivation, could have been the fact I had hardly eaten, but I realized I was in over my head. Then and there I decided it was time for a change.

 Next stop: Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?