Day 50

Hey we made it!  Fifty, now that's neat!  That's the goal, right?  I do feel some growth.  I'm getting better at not using the past participle, I almost never use adverbs directly after actions, and most of the time I stick to "said" instead of substituting more colorful talk words.  I'm also getting more confident in my facebook status updates, obviously.  People have been randomly starting conversations with me at work, which never happened before.  Some guy told me you can get a free trial to amazon prime with a school email address, and that's pretty useful information.  Everyone has something interesting to say that will probably benefit you, apparently.  So I'm reading business books and exclusively watching Woody Allen movies, in case anyone was wondering.  When you're not writing TV shows or movies (which I won't do, because that whole idea involves finding actors, people to film, selling the idea, etc), visual and physical gags are kind of useless.  PS:  The thesaurus is much more useful than the dictionary.  But dictionary.com will do it either way.

             

He had tried futilely to fish, using a multitude of different shaped sticks to trap them against the shallow depths of the ocean rock walls. The fish were large and striped black over a dominant yellow, with fat whiskered faces floating idly under the water like they were in in queue. 

Charles reached down to grab one, and it proved unwieldy and uncooperative.  Immediately when removed from the water it became animated, stretching each face muscle wildly and drooping its jaw in physical revolt.   He hurled it onto the surf, but it burrowed its way immediately back into the sand, which collapsed around him in a heap.

He was sucked lower into the water than he planned to go.  All the air sucked out of his lungs and he pulled himself through sea shells back into the water.  He put his hand over his mouth at first to prevent the waters entrance, but realizing he was out of air instead used it to swing wildly in panic.  Luckily, his legs still worked, and eventually pulled him back up to where he started from.  The scent of sea water started to sicken him, and he felt gobs of reserve mucus rising through the proper mediums to his esophagas.  He felt like that time he drank the whole bottle of ketchup.

The sand flew across Charles eyes no matter how he tried to prop up his tent.  He figured he needed a tent to sleep and was going through the precautions of setting it up , although it was still daytime. 

He strung together enormous leaves which pulled free from the palm trees easily with a pop.  They funneled sand directly into his face, and as he soon learned throwing salt water into your eyes was even worse.  He cursed salt water and swore he wouldn’t give it a third chance. 

He found where the line the bird was pulling up started from, dusting with a piece of fauna to a hilt connected to a power plug.  He tugged at it, getting a weak shock through the wire that felt warm and tingly.  He pulled at it, giggling to himself, but it was really wedged in there.  He even put one big wet boot down into it and heaved mightily with his whole overstuffed upper body, but all he procured was a slightly harsher electrical current passing through his hands.  Like eating too much of the good candy on halloween.  He grabbed a sharp rock and contemplated severing the connection, but instead thought he’d see what it led up to.

“It’s not that odd, seeing a line running from an underwater generator in the sand.  I think I saw this on Lost once, but it didn’t lead to anything.”  Charles said as he shook his hands at the wrist to regain feeling in them.  “That show had a lot of wasted potential.”

Following the bifurcated line left in the ground by the giant bird, he wandered after it at a languorous pace.  He thought about when Sayid feels shamed for torturing someone again, something he swore he would no longer do after working as an interrogator for the Iraqi army for years.  I had just better not see any polar bears, he thought, there had better not be any pregnant ladies either.

The bird was still tugging the string out of the ground like a freakish worm being tugged out by a freakish cyclops bird.  He could hear the Red Mazda Miata purring and surfacing on the other side of the body of water.  (It wasn’t clear if it was an ocean or lake or pond anymore).  Its headlights reflected off of the water, the yellow light they created like a lighthouse probing the water for incoming ships.

Charles scooted ahead, removing the pillow cushion costume top as the heat forced him to break a sweat.  He threw his long black wet hair out of his eyes, the salt from the water stinging the back of his neck.  Hunger pangs started an uprising in his stomach and he looked at the fat fishes in the water, staring blindly in arrogant malaise.  To make matters worse, he was finally drying off.

A tiny particle in the distance, like a speck on his cornea, the bird was tangling with a slightly larger green speck.  As Charles approached wearily he saw that the chord ran into this green creatures back.  The bird and the green spiky humanoid lizard rubbed against each other lovingly.  The green thing placed a three fingered paw on the birds back and they stood together like a photograph frozen in time. the bird ran to the beach and retrieved the discarded part of Charles costume and shoved it into his chest.  He received it from the birds insistent nudging head and discarded it again to the ground, and the bird grabbed it and shoved it into his chest again.  The green creature stood with its arms crossed, its foot tapping on the ground. 

The waves crashed against the rocks, the water dissipating into the sand or turning into a fine mist hovering above it.  The Red Mazda Miata honked and rocked onto its back wheels across the water, powerless against the water.  Charles pulled the cushion costume back on over his head, something drove him to trust this bird and green monster.  The green monster had the same disappointed smile across his lips as the man holding the fish in the poster, the same overbearing benelovence and “happy you are leaving” look. 

The green creature beckoned Charles with an impersonation of human speech into a tunnel, a hulking grimace on its face as its chord kept giving inch by inch, pulling with a constipated look on its face against the line.  It pulled itself along with its two eyes bulging, and removed a layer of foliage surrounding a jutting monument.  As the vines fell off of this outstanding rock like a red curtain, it revealed it wasn’t like the hundreds of other oversized rocks standing in the area.  This one presented a industrial sized stairwell that led down into a tunnel that was lit from below.

A crack of lightning sparkled across the water, like a curved finger nail digging into the surface.  Charles jumped and turned around, running in a circle for a moment before regaining his composure.  The bird nudged him toward the monument from behind.  He pulled himself underneath the giant rock statue with its convenient hand grips on the bottom.

He gazed out at the green monster, who was still trying to free itself from its binding chord.  Out on the ocean, a ripple emitted from under the sea and a crustacean shell surfaced.  Its design was brilliant, the illogical swirl of it resembled surrealist paintings rather than something formed in nature.  The shell crawled slowly toward the beach, and the green monster suddenly ripped the chord out of its own back, lumbering past Charles into the tunnel.  The cut hose sprayed brightly colored green liquid spasmodically. 

The bird chirped in a shrill uneasy tone, and then took off down the beach.  As the shell pulled itself out of the water it revealed a hideous stretched out face, like someone melted a whales head.  It’s lips moved in mastication, and oodles of tiny handlike claws sprung from its underside and ropelled it like a windup car toward the oversized rock. 

Charles had time to wish he had hurried up and gotten into the tunnel like the more fortunate green monster as it crashed unceremoniously into the rock above him.  As the rock tipped toward him, it expanded the hole Charles had to slip through for a split second, but he did not fall into the tunnel voluntarily. 

Crushing his spinal column against the asphalt paved tunnel, Charles rolled over onto his side and struggled for a moment to move his fingers.  His arms he could move alright, but when he tried to push himself up to his feet with his outstretched hands they would not create suitable props for the mission.  He saw the hideous face of the thing up above, luckily it looked like it might be too big to get through the tunnel.  Its face stretched further and further down the tunnel, and as Charles watched in horror the green monster helped him up by the hand and pulled him fleetly down the tunnel.

The monster wasn’t looking good, his eyes were discolored and the tube sticking out of his back secreted a plethora of different colored oozes.  It was like someone stabbed him from the inside with a straw and was blowing his insides out through it.  Down the narrowing hallway there was an old fashioned wooden door, sticking out like a sore thumb.  A loud schlepping sounded from the end of the tunnel, and the heavy rustling of little feet against the tunnel pushed Charles through the door.

He stood in the doorway petrified as he gazed back on the green monster being absorbed in its entirety by the black slug.  It stung him repeatedly with a pincer on the end of its tail, a sorrowful look on its face gazed on unevenlyas its mouth marched over the beautiful green monsters head.  It twisted its mouth and the head was removed, and it dropped the heathing mess of tissue onto the floor in a lifeless clump.  Hands formed out of its face, reaching out with an infantile hysteria at Charles, who slammed the door behind him.

It banged at the wooden door with no real rhythm, its feet against the wood and hands prying at the knob.  Charles looked around hastily for something to block the door with, but as the door began to give way to the monsters powers he instead gazed around heedlessly for an avenue to run down.  This subterranean cavern was full of ledges but no stairs or path, a crystal blue reflecting off of the phospherous ceiling downwards.  Stalactites hung near the ceiling and the walls were softened by a green moss. 

Short purple humanoid figures followed the monster in, beings of constant motion that had atleast one of their stumpy legs going forward at a time.  Charles pulled himself up to an overhanging edge, kicked away at the rocks in the process like a kid climbing a counter to reach a cookie jar.  His hands were bleeding and discolored as he looked down upon them, and he wondered if that spotless from the Red Mazda Miada was instead a warning signal.

As Charles looked back at the monster a membranous tongue crawled over his back and recoiled at the musky taste of his couch cushion costume.  The creature belched a noxious cloud over his way, and he pulled himself to his feet and ran to the end of the hanging rock.  The purple guys could be heard beating at the rock formation from somewhere below, and the rocks continually shifted and unbalanced themselves under Charles’s feet.

He heaved himself like a rag doll across a short precipace that took him onto the next flight of rocks.  The purple guys could be seen from this vantage pound, winding themselves together and stretching their two arms into one long elastic rope for the path across from him.

Never wrote an action sequence before.  Visualize completed novel and let it write itself.  Dale Carnegie apparently taught fiction workshops and he said if you don't like people, it shows in your writing.  And that if you don't like the person you're writing for, they won't want to read it.  And I definitely still don't like people, as hard as I try to.  I can always tell I don't like people when I'm out driving and the road rage takes over. Well see ya tomorrow buddies.