Opinions wanted

gwarrior2k

Shared on Tue, 10/17/2006 - 05:54

I would like my fellow members to read the following part of a short story. I know it is fairly long but if you could take a couple of minutes, your comments, opinions, and critiques would be greatly appreciated. After a few comments have been posted I will reveal the author and more of the story if there is any interest.

Chapter One

 

As I lift my pen to write my recollections of the past days, I find myself weary and exhausted, with the accumulated loss of rest in recent times, with the thought of recalling grim memories, and with the knowledge that this journal need be finished in short time. I find myself so very tired, and yet I cannot bring myself to close my eyes for fear of what lies in the world of unconscious beyond. It is in my best interests to write at least one day, to get a start on my long work before me, and, after said job is finished, to lay my tired head, and find a safe corner in my mind in which to rest undisturbed.

March 16th, 2019; London, England-

I sat in my small hotel room gazing out the window towards the vast city of London, depressed at the sight of the heavy rain, which had fallen for three days with no sign of rest. It was to be expected of the dreary wet season though. I awaited the next day eagerly, the day I could finally present my findings to the great Oxford scientists, escape the cheap, cold room that I had been provided, and make my way to my estate in Rome. I carefully, gently slid the covered glass box from under my bed, if one could give it such a grand name, and set it upon the shabby table by the door in preparation for my departure to Oxford the next day.

 

March 17th, 2019; London, England-

Upon awakening and a glance at the clock, I realised that I had but a short hour before I was expected to appear before the greatest scientific minds in the world. I showered and dressed in good haste, for the hotel at which I stayed was a full half-hour’s drive through the busy streets of London. I carefully lifted the precious glass box from the table and left my room, taking the elevator (Which I have never, in all my life, appreciated or accepted in my prejudice against most technology, much favouring the precise complexity of the processes involved in the finer art of chemical science.) downstairs and hurried outside to the taxi, which awaited my arrival.

Here is where I lay pause to my current project, for the coming events of that day should surely haunt my waking hours and strike fear alongside any thoughts of rest. I fear I still may not find sleep, although those horrid memories I have left unwritten remain thoroughly repressed, if only at the fault of the sadness brought about by the memory of rain. Although an unpleasant factor of life then, the sounds of rain helped me to fall to sleep even in the creaky, rundown hotel, and in my creaky, uncomfortable bed. A short while ago, the only consolations of my creaky, uncomfortable life were the sounds of that which will soon be forgotten altogether.

Last night I dreamt of the Niagara Falls, in all their glory. Children laughed and played above and below, on the boats. It was a miraculous sight to see, and the image lingered in the visions of my unconscious for some time. Then there was a flash of darkness, and when the cruel sun rose from its dormancy it shed light upon what had become a terrible nightmare, a nightmare of the dingy, rusted rails above, the dry dust swirling along the bottom of what had been a beautiful lake, and the dry cliff, down which once fell the grandest waters of life. It was a blessedly short time after this haunt appeared amongst the other sights of my mind, when I awoke in a cold sweat, wholly unprepared for the documentation ahead.

I recall faint memories of Niagara Falls, a place which I had only visited at a time which seems so long ago, and yet is still a part of the blur of happenings which befell me just moments before I arrived at Oxford. Life before then now seems so irrelevant, though I know in my heart that it meant everything in those dangerous times. I feel, even after such a long rest, more drained than I have ever been, for I now see the pen and notebook resting innocently upon my desk, their nightmarish writings about to unfold, and repressed memories clawing at the inside of my mind, fighting to be set free. As I feel the demon’s claw grate against my skull, I know I cannot contain it any longer, and I may as well proceed.

Traffic was against me that day, and I feared that my first impression (which would undoubtedly have been one of disregard for punctuality) would not aid me in my quest to convince those great minds which I steadily (slowly, but steadily) approached.

I had finally arrived at the great Oxford University, a magnificent place in all its splendour, and, although soggy and wet, still would tower majestically even over kings. I chuckled to myself as passing students looked curiously at the large box I had under my arm. I daresay the young geniuses of our time looked utterly confused. A worrying thing indeed, to see the future of the world in the hands of a few individuals whose natural curiosity overcame them at the sight of a box. Finally I arrived at one of the many laboratories on campus.

Upon entering the considerably large room, even I was impressed. Thankfully, my superiors seemed not to notice my looks of awe at the scene, or they possibly dismissed it as a common and expected thing. I should think that they might have been generally more offended if I had passed it by without more than a glance. Once the initial glamour of the well-funded lab wore off, I gathered my wits, set the box upon the counter (pretending not to notice the professors’ greedy looks) and locked the door, upon which action the murmurs of the scientists fell away, as they seemed to sense the grave matters of consequence which sat under the dark cover.

"Gentlemen, what you are about to witness is not to leave this room. It could throw the world into a massive panic, and utter chaos would ensue. The contents of this package have been contained, and well contained at that. I assure you that this is the only specimen, and I remind you that I have come to request a safe place for containment, as I have found that it cannot be destroyed by any who know the values of science. This has been a well-kept secret for many months, and I would appreciate it being kept that way." The scientists nodded eagerly and greedily eyed the package.

 

Comments

DIE75's picture
Submitted by DIE75 on Wed, 10/18/2006 - 15:07
Great story Warrior. You have definitely piqued my curiosity. So what's in the box and can it really destroy the world?
cpt-crunch's picture
Submitted by cpt-crunch on Fri, 10/20/2006 - 22:51
that's an amazing piece of writing for a 14 year old! :D
gwarrior2k's picture
Submitted by gwarrior2k on Wed, 10/18/2006 - 18:29
The excerpt is the beginning of a story my daughter(14) wrote and submitted to the writersofthefuture contest. The narrator is guilt-ridden because of what is in the box. It's a spore accidently created in his lab that absorbs all water in its vicinity and then reproduces. Absorbs as in from the air or any water-based organism nearby. The more it absorbs, the more it reproduces and so on and so on.
cpt-crunch's picture
Submitted by cpt-crunch on Wed, 10/18/2006 - 02:11
Hey Warrior; It's an interesting. My curiosity is peaked by both what's in the box and also about the dream about people playing underneath Niagra Falls. I'd assume the two are somehow related. The narrator is a bit whiny, and that's a bit of a put off... "I'm so tired, I'm so weary, the Harvard students are so stupid"... And when the box was first described as glass it confused me that it had a "dark cover" and the Harvard students couldn't see what was inside. Just a few things for the picky eye. I like. What's in the box?

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