The Phantom of Liberty

When I was finished with mowing, her boyfriend Gary came over. My mother and Gary had been dating for about a year now, but they’ve never manager to keep together. By this time next week, they’ll have broken up and gotten back together again. I think it’s idiotic what she’s doing, but it’s not my decision to make.

“Get in here and help Gary with the food!” My mother said. It seemed he had brought over some burgers, more food to last another day. I brought in the food, and sat it in the kitchen. My sister was sitting there with a blank look on her face, as she always did.

Sometimes I worry about her, she may have some mental disorder. My mother would never get her examined, though, she couldn’t stand the thought of having a loony in the  family. In my opinion, no one is completely sane. We all have our obsessions, we all have our little quirks. I guess it’s one of the things that make us somewhat individual.

I went back out and finished with the lawn. It didn’t take too long, considering it was only weed eating. I went back inside to eat what Gary had brought over.

“Oh good,” Gary said.”There you are. I need you to go into my trunk and get my bag.”
“Sure thing,” I said.

I walked out of the house and opened Gary’s trunk. It was a mess, papers scattered about, trash bags, and a bunch of lottery tickets. There was no bag to be found; so I decided to look in the rest of his car. I opened the driver’s side door, and looked around in the back. Again, a lot of scattered papers, fast food bags, and lottery tickets; no bag. I decided I’d look in his glove compartment, just for fun.

When I opened it up, there was a squeak. It seemed his latch was broken, but that didn’t matter to me. I looked inside and found something I don’t think he’d want me to see, a very large bag of cocaine. I closed his glove compartment and re-locked the car. I walked into the kitchen and gave Gary his keys back.

“I didn’t see your bag anywhere,” I told him. “You sure you didn’t leave it somewhere?”
“No,” he said. “I made sure to bring it… did you not look everywhere? If it’s not in the trunk, it’s probably in the glove box.”
“What’s it look like?” I pretended no to know anything.
“It’s just a plastic bag… only it’s got some white sand in it, you know, to keep my stuff from rusting.”

I could tell he was lying, what an idiot I would be if I believe him. I told him I had to go to the bathroom, and that I could get it when I was done, but he told me it was fine.

I guess I got out of that one pretty easily. I went up to my room and laid down for a bit. I felt my eyes start to droop. Slowly they shut.

I was asleep.

______________________________________________________________________________________

“What do you mean dead!?” she said.
“I’m sorry Mrs. King, but your son was found dead at the hotel. Is there anything I can do for you?” he said.
“You can get out of my home and stop lying to me,” Mrs. King said.

The man started towards the door, “Listen ma’am, your son is dead… call the hotel and find out yourself, I left the number on the counter,” the man said, closing the door behind him.

Mrs. King went into her kitchen and looked at the note.

SAINT RANGE HOTEL
847-9985

She decided to disregard it and make dinner. As she ate, she thought about her son, how he left in anger, left on bad terms. She didn’t want him to be dead; for if he was, she would be devastated. After her husband died, he was the only thing she had left, the only person who loved her for no reason. She craved attention and couldn’t stand to be alone.

“Why did I not stop him!?” She cried to herself. At that moment, she decided to call the hotel.

“Saint Range hotel, how may I help you?” A man said on the other line.
“Let me talk to your manager,” she said.
“He’s not in, may I take a message?”
“No, get you manager on the phone now!”
“Listen ma’am, yelling at me will not get the manager to come back any quicker. Now, can I take a message for him… or do you have a question I can answer?”
“Yes, I have a question; and you can tell this to your manager as well: Where is my son?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play games! I know my son is there! Get him on the phone!”
“Who is your son, ma’am?”
“Austin King, now get him on the phone!”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but Mr. King is no longer with us.”
“You mean he left?”
“In a manner of speaking… ma’am… your son… your son is dead, ma’am”
“LIAR! How can you say such a thing! Get my son on the phone now!”
“I’m sorry… I can’t, ma’am… he really is… he’s dead.”
“Shut up! I’m coming up there, and if I don’t see him waiting for me at the door, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll kill you!” She slammed the phone down on the receiver and ran out to her car.

She drove. Miles, hours, she drove.

When she got there, her son was not waiting at the door, no one was at the door, no cars either. She went inside and got the attention of the attendant. He looked at her, and then went back to filing papers. She stood there a little longer then finally yelled to him.

“I’ve been standing here and you have yet to attend to me, may I ask why?” She said with a snicker.
“Well ma’am, as you can see, I’m busy. Could you wait just a moment?” He said as nicely as he could.
“No, now where’s my son?”
“Oh, so you’re the one from the phone. I thought you were just a prank caller; but I’m sorry, your son is dead.”

She glared at him. He was petrified, she had the look of a murderer in her eyes; and with the recent events that occurred in the hotel, he was a bit hesitant to deal with her.

“Ma’am, would like a free drink while you wait for the manager? I’m sure he can clear up this whole ordeal,” he said. She walked over to him and slapped him in the face.

“I’d recommend he gets here soon, or it’ll be much worse than a slap to the face, sir!” She said walking to the bar.

When she was in the bar, she heard “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane playing.

“What can I get you ma’am?” The woman at the counter asked.
“Just a rum and cola,” Mrs. King said.
“Thanks for giving me something easy, the bartender’s been gone for a while.”
“Really? What happened to her?”
“No one knows, she just disappeared one day.”
“Odd…”

There was a silence, the manager walked into the room, the song said the words:

And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you’re going to fall
Tell ‘em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call

“Hello Mrs. King,” the manager said. “I’m George Ives, the manager.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“Now, you want to know exactly what happened to your son, am I correct?”
“Yes, now tell me.”
“Sure,” he said while slipping something into her drink. “But you’re not going to like what you hear.”
“My on is dead, there’s not much more to hear,” she said, finishing off her drink.
“Well, I don’t think here’s a good place to discuss this… can we go up to my office?”
“Fine,” she said standing up.

She was dizzy. She could barely stand. The song played the lines:

When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen’s “off with her head!”

She fainted.

In the St. Range hotel and bar, there are five workers, only five. There is the manager, George Ives; the waitress, Kathy Hunt; the bellboy, Henry Simms; the bartender, August Moore; and finally the attendant, Nathan Brish. At the moment, there are seven guests staying at the hotel. Their names are: Paul Flange, Orville Kanny, Mr. and Mrs. Ghar, Molly Therman, Austin King, and Joseph Washburne. All of these people have one thing in common, and that one thing is what drives them to live.

After arriving, Mr. and Mrs. Ghar decided to go to the bar, leaving their room unattended. When they returned, they found there the dead body of Austin King. Appalled, they first called the manager, who in turn called the police. Once the police arrived, they took names and cleaned up the room, Mr. and Mrs. Ghar left the hotel, never to return(later they both went into a deep depression and killed themselves in their sleep).

That left only ten people in the hotel. Oddly enough, no one except the manager knew what had happened, and he wanted to keep it that way. The next day, Joseph Washburne and Molly Turner met to have a drink.

“How old do you think I am?” Joseph said.
“Old enough for the both of us,” Molly giggled.
“Well, at least I’m not too young for this,” Joseph said raising a glass to toast.
“I second that,” Molly said, meeting Joseph’s glass.
“Listen, about last week-”
“No, Joseph, there’s no need, that’s said and done, and there’s nothing I can do to get it back.”
“I know, but you loved it… aren’t you at least going to try for another?”
“No need, I’ve decided they’re too much work and too much pain. I think it was good that I lost that one… I don’t think it would have lived anyways.”
“Oh well then, would you like to join me tonight?”
“Sure Joseph, I have nothing else to do.”
“Alright then, it’s set.”

Molly and Joseph walked out of the bar leaving August alone. She cleaned the glasses as usual, thinking of the life she could have had, long ago she had a husband, a daughter, a good career… but one day she was framed for murder and sent to jail. Her husband hanged himself, and their daughter was in an orphanage somewhere in Phoenix. She wept, cleaning the tears off the glass as they fell.

That night, Joseph was found dead, this time it looked like suicide. Molly was shaken, there was nothing she had left in the world. The police informed her it was just a suicide, but she pleaded otherwise.

“Joseph was a happy man,” said Molly.”In fact, when he left my room, he was the happiest he had ever been, please look into it some more, please!”
“It is an odd coincidence, ma’am, that two people would be found dead in the same hotel in two nights,” one of the policemen said. “But we have many other cases to work on at this moment, and we can’t investigate a suicide if that’s all we have to go on.”

Molly stayed in her room for the next few days. While she was in there, everything in the hotel seemed to slow down, no one died, no one left, no one had any troubles. It was like nothing happened.

The day Molly came out of her room, she decided to go down to the bar to drown her sorrows. She arrived at the bar only to see the bartender and a few other hotel-goers there.

“I’ll have a whiskey, ma’am,” she said.
“Alright,” August said, handing Molly a glass. “One whiskey.”
“That’s not what I meant, I want the whole bottle, not just a glass, the WHOLE BOTTLE!”
“Calm down! Here!,” August said while passing Molly the bottle.

Molly sat and drank. She drank until she was thoroughly drunk. Then, she decided it would be a good time to talk to everyone, even some people who weren’t there.

“Joseph,” She said. “Some day, me and you are gonna go, we’re just gonna go. We’ll drive until we run out of gas, and we’ll run until we die. We’ll run and run and run and no one will stop us, no one will judge us, no one will interfere. Joseph, I can’t understand what you’re saying! Stop it Joseph, I want to be with you! STOP TELLING ME THIS!”

August could tell tell something was going to happen if she let Molly stay in the bar like that, so she helped her walk to her room. There, she sat Molly on her bed and asked if she wanted to talk. Molly agreed, so August told about her life.

“Many years ago,” She said with hazy eyes. “My husband, Douglas, and I were in a law firm together, we made good money and had a beautiful daughter named Sunny. She was about three when I saw her last saw her. You see, I was in love with another man… Douglas, though he had his moments, was not the best man for me. So, I started having secret meetings with ‘my Romeo’ while my husband was either asleep or out of town.”

“One night while my husband was on another trip, I took him to meet my daughter… it was a dumb mistake, but I though she should at least meet him. Well, when my husband came back from the trip, she told him about the man I was with. He came into our room furious. He asked me what Sunny was talking about and if I was seeing this man behind his back… so I told him the truth.”

“This made him even more angry, so he left, and I never saw him again. Later that night, the police came and arrested me for the murder of my lover, and later that day, my husband committed suicide… Right now, I have no idea where my daughter is or how she’s living, but I have to try and look for her, I have to keep her safe.”

At this point, both August and Molly broke into tears, Molly now had someone to talk to, she now had something left for her. It was late, Molly and August decided to sleep in the same room. In the morning there was only one of them left.

While walking to his room, a small cranny not really fit to house someone, Henry Simms was approached by the manager, George Ives.

“There’s been another death…” The manager said woefully. “I think we may need to close down… I’m sorry.”

“What!? Again! That’s like the third one in a month!”

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry, but if the Hotel closes, I can’t lodge you for free… you’ll have to find a job and home somewhere else.”

“But, no one will hire me, you and everyone else knows my past… the only reason you hired me is because of Mother…”

“You shut up about her!” the manager snapped. “It’s not like I chose that to happen! I’m just a man for goodness sake.”

“So, I guess that gives you a reason to-”

“You shut your mouth! The next words I want to hear are: ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ and nothing more. You say anything else and I’ll have you arrested!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The manager walked away, leaving Henry alone in the hall. He had always been good, but sometimes he had problems, these problems led to trouble, this trouble led to punishment, this punishment led to this situation, this situation led him to want to die, this feeling led to him to have problems, which started the cycle over again. Henry, of course, being a devout Christian would never commit this act, though he did commit other shameful acts, he did not want his God to add that to his list of sins.

When he arrived at his room, he lifted up his bed and pulled the Bible out from under it. Here he sat and read until his dim light had gone out, leaving him in darkness to be awoken to his alarm clock at 5:00AM. When he woke up, he would help with breakfast and then tend to whatever needed to be done, then he would go to his room and start the process over, but that morning, the routine would be broken by the death of yet another.

Police were standing in the lobby when Henry arrived, they were standing over the body of the manager, who had been killed by a chandelier. He was told by police that it was an accident, but that it was strange for so many “accidental” or “suicide” deaths to occur in one month. It was their idea to close down the Hotel until the ceiling was fixed and the case of Austin King had been solved.

No one had any idea what awaited them in Molly’s room, no one had been in or out of it in two days. No one knew there was only one living person in the room.

It was Henry who first opened the door.

______________________________________________________________________________________

And then I woke up.

Another night… another dream. This is the first dream I’ve had in a while, I think I rather enjoyed it. I think dreaming is much better than randomly waking up and not knowing who you are. I’ve always thought that when we sleep we lose a part of ourselves, and when we wake up it is replaced with a broken part, kind of like if a butterfly morphed into a caterpillar slowly. It shows up the old we get, that random white hair, that aching shoulder. When we do happen to get a good night’s sleep and wake up, we’re still not completely ourselves; it takes a little while to get reacquainted with our bodies. No one can wake up and be who they were a few hours ago. Maybe sleep doesn’t actually happen, I myself have experienced many times when I haven’t slept and not felt tired; maybe sleep isn’t needed. Maybe it’s like blinking… a blink that slowly steals you away.

I got out of my bed, wobbled a bit, slowly trying to get back into the flow of things. I went down to my, or should I say my mother’s kitchen. She wasn’t awake yet, in fact no one else in my family was. I got some cereal and some milk, the usual. I sat and slowly ate it.

As I ate, I thought. Thoughts that aren’t at all important. Thoughts that don’t do anything. I hate thinking, I’ve never had a single original thought, no one has. I hate people, every person in this world hates every other person. We were made to be that way, we weren’t made to get along, we were made to pass down genes to new generations, so that they too can live in a crummy world and hate everyone else’s passed down genes. I’m sure my ancestors can vouch for me on this thought… I’m the only thing my great-great-great-great-grandfather has left on this world. Who in this world actually knows their old ancestors? It’s not a necessary thought to live. I need to stop thinking, just in general.

My mother walked into the kitchen. She had on her pyjamas, I could tell she had a hangover. This week, she’s come home late and drunk every night, I think something’s wrong. She made herself a quick cup of coffee, drank it in one sip, and then went onto her next cup. She sat down next to me and poured herself some of the cereal.

“Things are gonna be tough this week,” she said.
“Really now? How come?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t get a pay check until next week, and there’s only $3 in my bank account.”
“So you’re saying that what’s in these drawers is going to have to last all this month…”
“Yeah, because my pay is going directly to the rent.”
“What happened to all the money from my writing award?”
“What do you mean?”
“I gave you my award check and told you to cash it, since I don’t have a bank account. You said you’d let me use it if I ever wanted to buy anything at the store or online.”
“You never gave me a check,” she said lying through her teeth.
“Yes, I did.”
“Well, even if you did, I buy your food. I pay for your house, your water. You can feel free to leave if you feel like I’m being harsh!”
“No, you’re not harsh.”

You’re just a drunk, I thought to myself. At this point, my sister came down. She wanted oatmeal, which mean I had to make it; my mother wasn’t going to do it. I mixed it and put it in the microwave.

“Mom, where’s my piggy bank? I wanted to get a teddy bear from Build-A-Bear, and I’ve been saving that money for a year now,” my sister said.
“Why would I know? Maybe you should look after your things a bit better.” My mother said.
“Will you help me find it later?”
“Sure, I don’t need to be at work till two.”
“Wait, mom you go to work at nine, why would you go in so late?” I said.
“Oh, today’s my quick day, I’m there from two to six.”
“Whatever.”
“Will you help me look for it, too?” My sister asked.
“No, I’m going to be busy.”
“No you’re not, help your sister!” My mother said.

This was a very annoying situation for me, I would have plans and my mother would do something to ruin them. I’m sure after I finish looking, she’ll have me clean the whole house, then do the outside. Life can be annoying.

“Just because it’s the weekend doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, you still have responsibilities,” my mother told me.
“Yeah, don’t be so lazy,” my sister added.

They’re not the people to be telling me this, my sister sits around all day while my mother gets drunk. I want to know who nominated me to be the lazy one. I started looking for that stupid bank as told. I had no luck, my mother had probably hid the remains already. Then, as I thought, she wanted me to clean the house. I got out the vacuum, the mop, and the duster; and got the job done. Then, she told me to do the outside. I got out the lawnmower and the weed eater, and started on the job. About halfway though, my mother came out and sat on the porch.

She sat there and watched.

Quinn was falling. She had no reason to, she just did it. They was no joy in it; no hate, she just did what she thought was right at the time. Looking back on it, she could have avoided the whole ordeal and not had to plunge herself into the pit. The pit had drawn her in from the first time she saw it, now it had its long awaited prize.

In a village near the riverbank there was and always has been the pit. It is said that anyone who looks into the pit is doomed to be consumed by it. The villagers had tried everything they could to keep people from going near it, but there is still the fear that the pit will corrupt them.

Quinn, who was fifteen, was a member of this very village and a very prominent baker. The town loved her food and she made a decent income.

One day, Quinn lost all feelings, she kept a blank look on her face and ignored all who talked to her. All of the villagers figured she was in mourning, but they couldn’t guess who.

When she was home, she sat on a stool and stared at nothing; when she was in public, she made no expression. She was too deep in though, too deep in agony. She had seen the forbidden pit, she had gazed into that endless black void.

She had seen it, now it owned her.

She now only listened to the Pit, all her thoughts were the Pit’s and all its thoughts were hers. She and the Pit were on in the same. The Pit told her what to do, what to say. She and the Pit were best friends and worst enemies.

Every day, Quinn brought herself one step closer to plunging into the Pit itself. To give herself to the Pit. She now loved her new life and new ways of thinking, she loved the knowledge that poured over her; and in her own mind, she was God.

“As a god,” the Pit said to her. ” You must be uncaring; unfeeling. Once you can kill a man without feeling remorse, you can then become God of this wretched village. That is my gift to you.”

She listened to the Pit at all times, it was her soul; but after it told her to kill, the only thing it would say to her was: “Do it!.”

She needed to find someone, she needed to find a victim, and that evening she went out and searched for a man that would appease the Pit. She found a few beggars on the street and asked the Pit if they were enough.

“These will not do!” The Pit told her. ” The man you need to kill is the man that you love most. You know who I’m talking about!”

This almost made Quinn lose all hope in the Pit, the thought of it had almost driven her to tears. The Pit was her key to immortality and power, but what would she do with it if she had no one to love? She had to think a very long time about it, and the Pit tried its best to bring her on the path to suffering; that was how it stayed powerful, how it kept living.

The next day, a man named Joseph went into Quinn’s bakery. He and Quinn had known each other since they were born, they grew up together. Now, Quinn would have to take his life. It was her only way to the prize she had longed for, the only thing that mattered to her.

As Joseph browsed, Quinn hid a knife behind her back, ready for the kill. When Joseph approached she had it still hidden.

“Hello Quinn,” he said with a smile on his face. “I know this is sudden, and you may not say yes,” Joseph hesitated, thinking of the words he wanted to say. In this moment, Quinn had a firm grasp on the knife.

“Will you marry me?” He blurted out.

At that moment, Quinn dropped the knife and started to cry. Joseph embraced her and they stood in each other’s arms, crying.

“What are you doing!?” The Pit yelled in her mind. “Kill him! If you do not fulfill this deed, you will never reach divinity, you will forever stay mortal!”
“I can’t,” she replied in her mind. “That is not what I want any more, I realize now that all I’ve ever wanted is Joseph, and you will no longer tell me what to do!”
“Fine then,” the Pit told her. “I’ll do it myself!”

Quinn blacked out. She only heard one thing, the final words of the man she once loved, “I love you,” he said.

She found herself in a dungeon, the smell of rotting flesh and feces filled the air.

“Glad you’re awake,” the Pit said menacingly. “You’ve been out for quite some time.”
“Shut up!” Quinn said out loud. “You’ve caused me nothing but pain! You killed the man I love and now I’m going to die here!”
“Oh, now, you can escape. All you need to do is pledge your loyalty to me.”
“I won’t! I’d rather die here!”
“How would you like it if I took your body over again? Think of all the misery I could cause you!”
“Do it then, if you even can.”
“How about I make you a deal? You obey me, and I bring your beloved Joseph back to life, doesn’t that sound fair?”
“You can really do that?”
“All that and more, you just need to do a few things for me first.”
“Like what?”
“A few more… mercy killings, after you’re out of here, of course”
“If you get me out of here, I’ll be sure to.”
“Haha, you sound like you think I can’t do it. I can, trust me.”
“As if I have a choice…”
“Walk to that wall over there, I stashed a key there when I had control of you.”

Quinn walked over the brick; as the Pit said, there was a key inside of it. She walked to the door and unlocked it.

“Good girl, I hid a knife for you too. it right over there,” she found the knife and kept it in her hand.
“Now you make your escape,” the Pit said.

The air outside was sweet. There was no one around, there was no one to be found.

“Where is everyone?” Quinn asked.
“They’re all with me, waiting for you,” the Pit answered.
“Waiting for me to do what?”
“Are you really that dense? You know what I want you to do!”

Quinn was again filled with grief… she knew she cause the village to be destroyed, and it was all that accursed Pit’s fault. At that moment, she thought of a way to destroy it; or at least keep it from possessing anyone again. “I know what you’re thinking Quinn! But I must tell you, you cannot kill me!”

She said nothing in response. She thought nothing, all she did was run to the pit.  People were lined up, ready for the slaughter. People ready and willing to die for the sake of the Pit.

“I have placed a thought in their minds, the thought: ‘I want to die.’ They have no more free will; no more thoughts. Free them now!” The Pit demanded. “Kill them and become God! Become the god of nothing!”
“What kind of God if that!?” Quinn said sadly.
“A miserable one! Now do what I say or join them!”
“No, I shall not!”
“Then I’ll do it for you!”

Quinn started to lose control, she started to pass out. The Pit was trying to control her again, but this time, she better understood how to combat it. She fought. She fought to retain her will, her sanity.

As she fought, she noticed the Pit started to get weaker and weaker, soon it would no longer be able to keep control. She could see the Pit itself shrinking in front of her, and at that moment, she knew what she had to do.  She had to throw herself into the pit, it was the village’s only chance.

She jumped.

Quinn was falling. She had no reason to, she just did it. They was no joy in it; no hate, she just did what she thought was right at the time. Looking back on it, she could have avoided the whole ordeal and not had to plunge herself into the pit. The pit had drawn her in from the first time she saw it, now it had its long awaited prize.

As she fell, she realized something: there was nothing in the pit. There was nothing to control her. There was nothing. She felt nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

“What do you mean dead!?” she said.
“I’m sorry Mrs. King, but your son was found dead at the hotel. Is there anything I can do for you?” he said.
“You can get out of my home and stop lying to me,” Mrs. King said.

The man started towards the door, “Listen ma’am, your son is dead… call the hotel and find out yourself, I left the number on the counter,” the man said, closing the door behind him.

Mrs. King went into her kitchen and looked at the note.

SAINT RANGE HOTEL
847-9985

She decided to disregard it and make dinner. As she ate, she thought about her son, how he left in anger, left on bad terms. She didn’t want him to be dead; for if he was, she would be devastated. After her husband died, he was the only thing she had left, the only person who loved her for no reason. She craved attention and couldn’t stand to be alone.

“Why did I not stop him!?” She cried to herself. At that moment, she decided to call the hotel.

“Saint Range hotel, how may I help you?” A man said on the other line.
“Let me talk to your manager,” she said.
“He’s not in, may I take a message?”
“No, get you manager on the phone now!”
“Listen ma’am, yelling at me will not get the manager to come back any quicker. Now, can I take a message for him… or do you have a question I can answer?”
“Yes, I have a question; and you can tell this to your manager as well: Where is my son?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t play games! I know my son is there! Get him on the phone!”
“Who is your son, ma’am?”
“Austin King, now get him on the phone!”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but Mr. King is no longer with us.”
“You mean he left?”
“In a manner of speaking… ma’am… your son… your son is dead, ma’am”
“LIAR! How can you say such a thing! Get my son on the phone now!”
“I’m sorry… I can’t, ma’am… he really is… he’s dead.”
“Shut up! I’m coming up there, and if I don’t see him waiting for me at the door, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll kill you!” She slammed the phone down on the receiver and ran out to her car.

She drove. Miles, hours, she drove.

When she got there, her son was not waiting at the door, no one was at the door, no cars either. She went inside and got the attention of the attendant. He looked at her, and then went back to filing papers. She stood there a little longer then finally yelled to him.

“I’ve been standing here and you have yet to attend to me, may I ask why?” She said with a snicker.
“Well ma’am, as you can see, I’m busy. Could you wait just a moment?” He said as nicely as he could.
“No, now where’s my son?”
“Oh, so you’re the one from the phone. I thought you were just a prank caller; but I’m sorry, your son is dead.”

She glared at him. He was petrified, she had the look of a murderer in her eyes; and with the recent events that occurred in the hotel, he was a bit hesitant to deal with her.

“Ma’am, would like a free drink while you wait for the manager? I’m sure he can clear up this whole ordeal,” he said. She walked over to him and slapped him in the face.

“I’d recommend he gets here soon, or it’ll be much worse than a slap to the face, sir!” She said walking to the bar.

Staying up late is fun… it’s actually very odd, I get most of my chores and work done when it’s past 1am. In fact, not only did I finish up packing all my stuff and hanging up all my posters, but I also wrote seventeen pages of a new story I’ve been drafting in my mind. It’s odd, it came out a lot differently than I thought… but I do like it so far. Seventeen pages is when the prelude ends and the world can start to bud. I really don’t want to get into it because like every other story project I start, I’ll never ever finish it.

Well, it doesn’t matter, it probably would suck anyways. I think everyone needs to see my shoe box full of crap stories that I’ll never finish.  Heh, I guess everyone has one of those, though. Wow… I should try to get some motivation. You know what’s odd? That story that I made… the one I posted here? You know, the one I never finished? Yeah, it’ll probably stay unfinished forever. Sad thing is I had a great ending lined up for it. And no… the ending isn’t: “And then I woke up,” anyone who ends a story like that needs to die. Unless it’s Cormac McCarthy and he’s trying to be funny. Yeah, you know what book I’m talking about right? *cough* No Country for Old Men *cough*

You know that story that I said I made in math class that I’d post on Edublogs at some point? Yeah, that’s not going to happen any time soon. You know why? Because I lack the motivation to put it on here. I’d say someone else could put it up here… but my handwriting is atrocious. If you can read my writing, you get a gold star. I want a gold star. Someone sent me a gold star!

Wow… this post is ending up like every other post I’ve ever made… with me trailing off into some random thoughts and never finishing my main point… actually that was my main point. Go me! Goodbye.

“I hear it’s amazing when the famous purple stuffed worm in flap-jaw space with the tuning fork does a raw blink on Hara-Kiri Rock. I need scissors! 61!”

What is the purpose of boredom? Seriously, I’m bored all the time and there’s no reason for it. I can’t help it, I have this dang depression which makes it so I mope around all day, and when I do get around to doing something, my ADD will not let it entertain me for long.

I swear, I need some medication or something, because I lack the ability to enjoy myself. It annoys me. Seriously. I’m thinking of trying some really cool bumming idea, it’ll be over the internet on my YouTube account, and what I’ll do is make a video called: Gimme Money! It’s a great idea! It won’t work most likely, but it’s better than not being able to find a job. I’ll be truthful with it too, not saying something like: “I need money because I’m poor,” no, I’ll say something more to the effect of: “I want a PS3 and have no money.”

Bad idea? I thought so. Then again, I don’t care what you think, you’re no where near as cool as me. Wait I take that back, someone cool might be reading. How about: I only care about what you think if you’re cooler than me. Satisfied? Good.

I just realized something hilarious: this is my 69th post! Why is that funny? Well, I’m not gonna tell you, figure it out yourself. This post is droney… I tend to get droney. At least it’s better than being bored, because for some reason I cannot sleep.

You know what I’ve been using as a computer chair for the past week? A milk grate… Yeah, my butt has rhombuses on it… rhombuses? Rhombi? Rhomboose? I dunno, my back feels horrid… I may need seven chiropractors. Wow! That’s a powerful word on the Scrabble board… so is Transvestite. That’s a funny word, isn’t it? Almost as cool as Discombobulated! Or Persnickety! Those words are funny, I laugh when I say them. Laugh I say! Do it.

Eh, I got a sore in my mouth… and I just realized I’m sounding like an old man, complaining about every blasted thing and going off on random tangents I don’t even remember my topic now… Lemme scroll up and read for a sec.

Oh yeah, depression sucks. My main pass-time is laying on my bed, which has made me fat. I can’t do anything in school and my mother is angry at my laziness. Laziness and boredom, two things that should never had been made… if I ever meet whichever creator is out there, I’m going to ask him/her/it what he/she/it was thinking when he/she/it gave us these actions. Actually I’d have a lot of questions for the creator. No, I’m not pointing out a certain one because I don’t feel safe revealing my religion/anti-religion over the internet.

The internet is a scary place. No, I take that back, the internet is awesome. Without the internet, you wouldn’t be reading this piece of crap blog of mine. Well, in that case, I’m thankful; you’re probably not. Now I have a bored. I think it’s time to end this. Till next time.

“I hear it’s amazing when the famous purple stuffed worm in flap-jaw space with the tuning fork does a raw blink on Hara-Kiri Rock. I need scissors! 61!”

Well… this is my new house… you can’t see it.

Haha! I’m better than you.

This post sucks.

I’m gonna use a new quote!

“I hear it’s amazing when the famous purple stuffed worm in flap-jaw space with the tuning fork does a raw blink on Hara-Kiri Rock. I need scissors! 61!”

Yup, the house we’re buying needs some work done to it, so we’re painting and redoing some walls before we move in… I guess this’ll be my last post in this crap of a townhouse.

I think I should make something important…

Nah.

I have a better plan! I’ll make the post really short and crappy!

Yeah, I was really really bored during Geometry today. We had a final or something, but I didn’t do it because the amount of hate I have for that class cannot be described. So basically, I have a 9 per cent of something to that effect… yeah I’m amazing.

Anyways, what I did during that period was write a short little story. I think it sucks, but the thing is that I wrote it in 40 minutes. I wrote five pages front and back in my notebook. I think that’s productive. I guess when I get the time, I’ll post it up here(so I’ll post it up here in about an hour…)

Oh, an update on the house: I get my own bathroom! Also, we’re going to start packing on Friday. Yeah, packing is just enjoyable…

“We have no past, no future. And even if we did, it wouldn’t truly be ours.”