I'm neurotic I know it. I came home and saw Stephen King on the TV and it's like he was telling me to write. I think he wants me to do a vampire story. I listened to an old Arthur Clarke (is it Arthur Clarke?) story called The Parasite in audiobook format in the car. It made me think this things happening in a story thing isn't as hard as it sounds. And some of his descriptions are generic and bland. So, I don't feel so bad about this after all. It was like reading the peer forums from creative writing classes, maybe I'm not as good as that guy at getting words out and stringing a giant coherent thing together, but the quality of his writing isn't necessarily superior. My dialogue is going to suck because I don't talk to people. Anyway here's tonights.
It was too early to be out here in the woods. His friend Duane roused him, calling time after time before ringing the doorbell until it was impossible to sleep. Arnold shook off the cobwebs, pulled a wool sweater and some camouflage slacks on and opened the front door.
It was too early to be out here in the woods. His friend Duane roused him, calling time after time before ringing the doorbell until it was impossible to sleep. Arnold shook off the cobwebs, pulled a wool sweater and some camouflage slacks on and opened the front door.
“Ready to go kill some shit?” Duane asked.
“You speak so elegantly,” Arnold said. “Let’s get out in my van and do this thing.”
Speeding along the interstate, Duane was a little too excited to kill some animals. He continuously fiddled with the dashboard, pressing each button which he had no business touching. In the backseat, there were two large rifles and a bag of Doritos. He paid particular attention to the directional compass as we drove, even though it was pretty clear to me he had no idea where he was going. I could tell we were either going to get “there” by pure luck, or he would pick a spot that had a sign and a sign in station and pretend it was our intended destination.
He got out of his side of the jeep and came around to the back of the truck. I got out and lit a cigarette, staring off into the cold morning sky. A bird I didn’t recognize called in the distance.
He pulled a couple of tarps, an orange sweater, and a flashlight out of the trunk.
“It works during the day,” He said, waving the flashlight in my face. “They don’t like light in their face.”
People don’t normally hunt by getting close enough to an animal to shine a light in its face. He thought he was trying to catch a ghost, he was going to shoot something from point blank when it would be attempting to recover from the light in its eyes. He went back to the trunk, scratched his head, dove in with his torso while his feet were still on the ground and popped back up empty handed.
“I think I have everything.” He said, motioning to me to get away from the car so he could slam the trunk. I wasn’t standing anywhere near enough where the hatch being slammed could effect me. He stood silent in contemplation for a moment and burst upward like an epiphany struck him.
“You remember Becky?” He said, then feigning surprise at his own silliness he shrugged and said “Of course you remember Becky, I only dated her for like 7 months.”
We were both in high school while he was dating Becky. He walked around with a stiff upper lip and an unassuming smile on his face during that period. In his mind he had achieved something. He was one with her. They were inseparable until she realized he wasn’t cool.
He’d hang around the cool kids because they liked that he had his own car and was willing to make sacrifices to be part of their crowd. In retrospect, I’m not sure if they were even the cool group or if I only thought so because the girls would good looking.
“What about her?” I asked, realizing the mistake I made by agreeing to go on this trip. We could have went out for a beer, or coffee, or reminisced over an event. As it was, I was going to be stuck in a 4 by 6 square in a tree with him for several hours while we waited to kill animals. At least maybe we could get into a conversation about high school and I could bring up stories I never had the time to get to otherwise.
“Well, I’m pretty sure she is a vampire, and she lives in these woods,” Duane started, staring off into space where it didn’t appear he was avoiding my gaze but he didn’t want to make eye contact. I could never tell when Duane was joking; it was impossible what kind of delusional bullshit he believed.
“…Yeah?” I inquired, sounding more enthusiastic than I planned to.
We wandered past 5 of six posts before he picked one that was suitable. It was facing a bunch of trees, but he was convinced it would get us quick results. I wanted to get up in the tree so I could get into my thermos for coffee. A deer scampered past the post before we started climbing, and I tried to get Duane’s attention but he avoided my reaching hand.
Up in the tree, we finally got situated. He had a pair of tiny binoculars and was leaning against a branch, holding his other arm over his head to permit me space to do the same. He was holding the tiny binoculars with thumb and pinky and attempting to alter its settings with his index finger at the same time. Turning wheel that controls the zoom, he lost control of the binoculars and they fell overboard into the sea of boring leaves.
“I’ll go down and get them.” I said, drinking the last bit of lukewarm black coffee. When I got to the bottom, I called up: “I’ll be right back I’m going to go look around!” I called back up.
“Shh! Lower your voice!” His response was louder than the remark he was reproaching. “Scare the deers away!” He added unnecessarily.
The woods at 6 am were its own world. I had recently watched Pan’s Labyrinth and expected a woodland creature with a human face to come gallavanting through a dimensional portal and offer me a cryptic assignment.
The trees all started to look the same. Returning to the post I thought we were occupying, Duane was gone. This was his idea of psychology. If I was going to ditch him, he’d ditch me. But I was probably just being paranoid. Some of my shit was still up on the post, however.
“DUANE!” I yelled in my most powerful scare-shit-away voice. I continued calling out for him as I climbed back up to the station.
I had never seen a hunting rifle like this before. Solid steel bearings. Laser sight and magnifying lense which were completely incompatible. Trying to lift it with one hand, I nearly slipt out of the tree when I had to reach over with my left hand to balance it.
Yeah it was rushed and shitty but that's the fastest I've gotten to 1,000 words. I'll keep this story going for the week. Let's see what happens with his friend in the forest. In at the buzzer.
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