I Want to Write a Book
Tell me what you think of the first chapter! Also, open to constructive criticism guys :)
Day one
No one could have foreseen what would happen next... shredded into ribbons, the janitor's dismembered body parts rested all over the study hall. The study hall was a quaint, furnished library that strangely resembled a log cabin. Blood, guts, and what might have been soup dripped from the ceilings and walls. Like a recently painted canvas the hall was still fresh with the masterpiece of a demented madman. But this was not the scene of importance; instead, let me direct your attention to the closet. Not a splatter, splash, or stain of blood had defiled its sleek surface. Not knowing what lays behind the door frightens those who are afraid to turn the knob. The heart-pounds ferociously within the chest and the air surrounding the librarian became heavy and suffocating as the chills begin to creep down his spine.
The librarian was an elderly brown fellow, whom was dressed in his Sunday's best, he seemed as robust as an oak tree. From the bottom of his church shoes to the top of his head full of grey hair, I could almost smell the fear around him as he looked at the knob. Surely, death waits behind this door of eternal anguish, but in all reality it is merely a closet, perhaps even the janitor's dorm. Nonetheless, the mind perceives it all so very differently, unconsciously stepping closer and closer to the door, the floor begins to wail and moan with every step taken. Not sure if the leaking ceiling is dripping water or blood upon their head, but obviously too focused to look up... as the door slowly creaks open, notice how quiet the room has become as the door finally swings open. A sigh of relief welcomes the oddly empty closet as a sign of fortune.
No longer able to ignore the persistent, yet silent tapping from the ceiling his head jerks up to gaze upon the origin of the annoyance. At that moment, two pairs of eyes glared profoundly into each other's, as if they were examining all the gruesome sins from one another's soul. Pure terror had paralyzed the pathetic victim, not even a second later, the lifeless corpse crumbled upon the floor without a head to spare. The curtains fell upon this grisly play as the demonic wolf man made his exit through the hidden floorboard in that very same innocent closet. "Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero," for those not well versed in Latin, this phrase simply means, "seize the day, putting as little trust as possible in the future. "After checking to make sure that immediate danger was gone, I quickly scurried back with my recordings of today's events, to my lair of sanctuary which lay far beneath the surface of this shattered world. Perhaps it is time to embrace this apocalyptic hell as the only home that I have now...
Talk about a suitcase full of bad luck, my entire life was filled with misery... Even before the world ended, I figured I was heading to Hell, I just never imagined that it would happen so suddenly. I never read my Bible, nor had I gone to church in nearly seventeen years. To make matters worse, I was an alcoholic father to a daughter that I barely knew. My daughter, Kerri Anne, was with her aunt, my sister, in Washington D.C. when the apocalypse happened... I only hope that they are both safe. In any case, if I die before I ever see my daughter again, I want you to know my story...
My name is James Wright, on the day of my best friend's wedding... my wife was devoured by horrendous werewolves right before my eyes, ironically neither the bride nor groom were hurt... In fact, I was the only one who lost someone that night; it's funny how things work out sometimes. Ever since that day I have been surviving in an everlasting living hell and to make matters worse, I'm always alone. Every other survivor that I meet has been eaten; I guess I should probably add that to my future resumes. Everyone I faintly care for ends up dead in the end, oh yes that is very comforting to think about.
I have Jet Black hair, a pale complexion, bright green eyes, and I'm also 5'4''... Before the outbreak I was attending New Mexico University for Journalism, it has always been my dream to become a published author and news reporter. I have the story of a century, but my audience is dead and those whom still live are too scared to care about what's REALLY going on. I have stated all this with the hope that perhaps someone will read this journal and accept reality for what it is... Simply we are all going to die, we live in Hell, we will die in Hell, and we'll probably end up going back to Hell... That's the optimistic perspective anyway... But here's to another day that I have survived within the cold, pitch black lair of my family's catacombs which happen to be a vast desolate labyrinth that runs beneath the city.
I try to remember a more peaceful time when life was about more than dying... Sadly, nothing really comes to mind though all I know is that at one time Lycans, Demons, and other monstrosities where spoken of in a tone of pleasure and delight... However all of these things, including laughter have become rare. Laughter is replaced by the intensely cold screams and the echoes of crunching bones that harmonize into a ghastly orchestra hidden within the shadows of the night. The sun that once shined bright is forever hidden behind impenetrable clouds, from which darkness reigns. Alas I managed to leave my time-ravaged refuge and walk upon the surface but revulsion awaited me, death welcomed me, and sorrow embraced me. Everywhere as far as my eyes could see, rivers of blood traveled the highways leaching through the mangled and swollen remnants of bodies everywhere.
Quickly I fled back to my underground prison, thinking to myself how in these moments I would love to scream, "Why has thou forsaken us?" But, I know that such foolish actions would consequently reassure those defiant words to be my last. Since the Great Seal that divided the realms, of Hell, Earth, and heaven had dispersed It would stand to reason that time itself has become a distortion within itself. For every second that would normally pass in the previous world, a year would pass in Hell... But now time itself has become an uncontrollable paradox and I fear that my world is doomed to unravel and disappear into the impending darkness.
Day one
No one could have foreseen what would happen next... shredded into ribbons, the janitor's dismembered body parts rested all over the study hall. The study hall was a quaint, furnished library that strangely resembled a log cabin. Blood, guts, and what might have been soup dripped from the ceilings and walls. Like a recently painted canvas the hall was still fresh with the masterpiece of a demented madman. But this was not the scene of importance; instead, let me direct your attention to the closet. Not a splatter, splash, or stain of blood had defiled its sleek surface. Not knowing what lays behind the door frightens those who are afraid to turn the knob. The heart-pounds ferociously within the chest and the air surrounding the librarian became heavy and suffocating as the chills begin to creep down his spine.
The librarian was an elderly brown fellow, whom was dressed in his Sunday's best, he seemed as robust as an oak tree. From the bottom of his church shoes to the top of his head full of grey hair, I could almost smell the fear around him as he looked at the knob. Surely, death waits behind this door of eternal anguish, but in all reality it is merely a closet, perhaps even the janitor's dorm. Nonetheless, the mind perceives it all so very differently, unconsciously stepping closer and closer to the door, the floor begins to wail and moan with every step taken. Not sure if the leaking ceiling is dripping water or blood upon their head, but obviously too focused to look up... as the door slowly creaks open, notice how quiet the room has become as the door finally swings open. A sigh of relief welcomes the oddly empty closet as a sign of fortune.
No longer able to ignore the persistent, yet silent tapping from the ceiling his head jerks up to gaze upon the origin of the annoyance. At that moment, two pairs of eyes glared profoundly into each other's, as if they were examining all the gruesome sins from one another's soul. Pure terror had paralyzed the pathetic victim, not even a second later, the lifeless corpse crumbled upon the floor without a head to spare. The curtains fell upon this grisly play as the demonic wolf man made his exit through the hidden floorboard in that very same innocent closet. "Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero," for those not well versed in Latin, this phrase simply means, "seize the day, putting as little trust as possible in the future. "After checking to make sure that immediate danger was gone, I quickly scurried back with my recordings of today's events, to my lair of sanctuary which lay far beneath the surface of this shattered world. Perhaps it is time to embrace this apocalyptic hell as the only home that I have now...
Talk about a suitcase full of bad luck, my entire life was filled with misery... Even before the world ended, I figured I was heading to Hell, I just never imagined that it would happen so suddenly. I never read my Bible, nor had I gone to church in nearly seventeen years. To make matters worse, I was an alcoholic father to a daughter that I barely knew. My daughter, Kerri Anne, was with her aunt, my sister, in Washington D.C. when the apocalypse happened... I only hope that they are both safe. In any case, if I die before I ever see my daughter again, I want you to know my story...
My name is James Wright, on the day of my best friend's wedding... my wife was devoured by horrendous werewolves right before my eyes, ironically neither the bride nor groom were hurt... In fact, I was the only one who lost someone that night; it's funny how things work out sometimes. Ever since that day I have been surviving in an everlasting living hell and to make matters worse, I'm always alone. Every other survivor that I meet has been eaten; I guess I should probably add that to my future resumes. Everyone I faintly care for ends up dead in the end, oh yes that is very comforting to think about.
I have Jet Black hair, a pale complexion, bright green eyes, and I'm also 5'4''... Before the outbreak I was attending New Mexico University for Journalism, it has always been my dream to become a published author and news reporter. I have the story of a century, but my audience is dead and those whom still live are too scared to care about what's REALLY going on. I have stated all this with the hope that perhaps someone will read this journal and accept reality for what it is... Simply we are all going to die, we live in Hell, we will die in Hell, and we'll probably end up going back to Hell... That's the optimistic perspective anyway... But here's to another day that I have survived within the cold, pitch black lair of my family's catacombs which happen to be a vast desolate labyrinth that runs beneath the city.
I try to remember a more peaceful time when life was about more than dying... Sadly, nothing really comes to mind though all I know is that at one time Lycans, Demons, and other monstrosities where spoken of in a tone of pleasure and delight... However all of these things, including laughter have become rare. Laughter is replaced by the intensely cold screams and the echoes of crunching bones that harmonize into a ghastly orchestra hidden within the shadows of the night. The sun that once shined bright is forever hidden behind impenetrable clouds, from which darkness reigns. Alas I managed to leave my time-ravaged refuge and walk upon the surface but revulsion awaited me, death welcomed me, and sorrow embraced me. Everywhere as far as my eyes could see, rivers of blood traveled the highways leaching through the mangled and swollen remnants of bodies everywhere.
Quickly I fled back to my underground prison, thinking to myself how in these moments I would love to scream, "Why has thou forsaken us?" But, I know that such foolish actions would consequently reassure those defiant words to be my last. Since the Great Seal that divided the realms, of Hell, Earth, and heaven had dispersed It would stand to reason that time itself has become a distortion within itself. For every second that would normally pass in the previous world, a year would pass in Hell... But now time itself has become an uncontrollable paradox and I fear that my world is doomed to unravel and disappear into the impending darkness.
