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The Writers' Room

Recommended Posts

Geralt of Rivia

I'm really impressed with what I've gotten so far. When I wake up, I'm gonna post a little excerpt, and I hope you guys can critique it :D

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Mokrie Dela

I'm sure one of us will. Just be patient. If it doesn't happen immediately, it will eventually.

 

Oh and don't double post ;)

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Geralt of Rivia

Alright, here we go. I went for a 'let the person imagine the character's face' approach for right now, although that can certainly change. Part of the reason is I like leaving choice up to readers. Most of it is because I'd probably be really sh*t at describing faces to any extent :p

Also, the PLACEHOLDER is the main character's name right now.

Oh, and this is just an excerpt. This isn't the whole of chapter 1 or anything. Just the part of chapter 1 I have actually written and made nicer.

Chapter 1

“What do you mean I’ve been expelled?”

 

Principal McMahon looked down at the student in front of him and couldn’t help but feel pity. Tall and with dark brown disheveled hair, he would be one of the popular kids if not for his situation. He was homeless, and it showed. His hair was matted down with dirt, and there were countless holes in his clothes. He smelled like he lived in a junkyard – which may just be true, if the rumors going around the school were correct. His shoes were only in one piece due to the absurd amount of duct tape he had on them. You could see signs of malnourishment on his face.

 

The kid was in very bad shape. And now I have to give him this news, he thought to himself.

 

“I’m sorry, PLACEHOLDER, I really am. It’s not my decision. It’s the school board’s. They voted on it, and decided that your presence in school was hindering the other student’s ability to learn.”

 

“That’s bullsh*t!” PLACEHOLDER explained with a yell as he rolled his amber-colored eyes, “Stopping other kids from learning!? That’s what they came up with?”

 

“That’s what they said,” Principal McMahon said with a sigh, “They made a statement when they announced their decision. You can read it here.”

 

He slid a piece of paper across the desk towards PLACEHOLDER. PLACEHOLDER took it into his hands and began reading it. It said:

 

In a 5-2 vote on the topic of __(first name)__ __(last name)__’s enrollment in ________ High School, the Board has decided that due to the high number of complaints from parents, students, and faculty about health concerns and/or the hindrance of learning ability, it is only fair that we remove said student. However, we do recognize the situation in which said student is in. Because of this, we will allow him to use the school’s Guidance Center to talk to counselors. The details of this arrangement will be made with the student at a later date. This decree is effective immediately.

 

PLACEHOLDER could only shake his head as he handed the paper back to Principal McMahon. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, especially now, at this time.

 

“So what happens now?”

 

“You’re no longer a student here. The resource officer will escort you to your locker, you’ll pack up your stuff, and after that…it’s up to you. Live your life.”

 

PLACEHOLDER put his head down and stared at the ground. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Sure, he was an outcast. Sure, he didn’t have many friends, nor was school very enjoyable for him. But he was almost done with it! It was only 2 months until graduation! He had busted his ass to get good grades ever since he made that promise to his mother.

 

That was the worst part. The promise to his mother was now broken. He wanted to cry. But he knew no one gave a sh*t. All that crying would accomplish is to make the situation more uncomfortable. No one needed that to happen right now.

 

He put his head back up and prepared to get screwed out of the only meaningful thing he would have ever done with his life up to this point.

 

“Why did this come up now? I’ve been here for over a year. You’d think people would’ve brought this up earlier.”

 

“There has been the occasional complaint here and there throughout your time here. But a big bulk of complaints came a couple weeks before the board meeting, and one of the parents brought up the topic of your expulsion. Take that as you will.”

 

PLACEHOLDER noted that Principal McMahon could barely keep eye contact with him. He kept nervously touching and arranging and rearranging things on his desk, or twiddling his thumbs. He had looked up at the clock multiple times since PLACEHOLDER had come in. He also seemed to breathe very lightly; out of his mouth, as if he was trying to avoid having to smell the air.

 

PLACEHOLDER took the clues in stride and got up to go meet with the resource officer, and clean out his locker. As he was heading out the door to meet with his new friend, Principal McMahon stopped him.

 

“Wait, PLACEHOLDER, one more thing…”

 

PLACEHOLDER turned around, “Yeah?”

 

“Mr. Welvin was outraged when he heard the news. He was at the board meeting, and it was not a pretty sight. Lots of yelling and arguing. He even came in here and busted my balls this morning. Gave the secretaries quite a scare, he did. Anyway, he requested you see him in his classroom once you get your stuff. He might have a class, though, so don’t just barge in.”

 

A smile slid across PLACEHOLDER’s face. Mr. Welvin was his only friend throughout his time at the school. While everyone else just saw some kid who smelled and who didn’t belong, Mr. Welvin saw a kid who, under unfortunate circumstances, was still able to maintain his love and willingness to learn about piloting spacecraft, and his devotion to his parents.

 

“Alright. Thanks. I guess”

 

PLACEHOLDER went out the office door and met with the resource officer. Together, they traveled down the drab, blue-colored hallway. Lining the walls were lockers whose only differing qualities were those of dents of varying shapes and sizes, with the occasional gap in-between them for a classroom door to fit snuggly in.

 

As PLACEHOLDER reached his locker, he struggled to remember the combination. He had barely used the locker, as anything he needed he usually kept in his backpack, which was currently slung behind his back. That, on top of the events of this morning, did not exactly help with his memory. Unfortunately, PLACEHOLDER did have a few non-important, yet personal, items in there to retrieve.

 

If only I could remember the damn combination!

Edited by Geralt of Rivia

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Mokrie Dela

Describing appearance is tricky at times. You have to give us all the details we see as soon as we can see it - don't keep adding or changing. If she's wearing a red spotted dress, say that. The reader will always fill in the details automatically. Do they need to know its spotted? Would 'red dress' suffice?

 

Same with faces - don't describe every mole and freckle but give the basics. Skin? Hair?

Where relevant of course

 

There is value in letting the reader 'fill in the gaps' but make sure you give them a structure with gaps to fill in; don't make them do all the work

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Geralt of Rivia

Alright, reposted it in an edit up above.

 

Current checklist of things to fix:

 

- Possibly give PLACEHOLDER a little more detail.

 

- Give the principal ANY detail.

 

Current things I want an opinion on (On top of everything else you guys see fit for criticism)

 

- Possible excessive use of PLACEHOLDER, his, etc.

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Mokrie Dela

Okay so a couple of things

 

Firstly, if I read it correctly, There's a split perspective in this and one I don't feel is intended or works.

 

The opening paragraph seems to be from the principle's perspective, as though he's telling the story. The description, though of the boy, could be mistaken for the principle. Then things change and were in the boy's head.

 

My advice is to put us in the shoes of the boy straight away. Have that Opening paragraph from HIS perspective. Have him, perhaps, admit that he's homeless. Have him reflect on the rumours. Perhaps show some bravado in him not being bothered by them or show that they hurt him.

 

PLACEHOLDER looked up at Principle McMahon, unable to believe what he'd heard. He saw pity in the man's brown eyes, hiding behind square reading glasses that perched on the tip in his nose. He understood - he wasn't so ignorant to his situation that the he could t see what was happening. Tall and with dark brown disheveled hair, he knew he would be one of the popular kids if not for his situation. He was homeless, and it showed. His hair was matted down with dirt, and there were countless holes in his clothes. He smelled like he lived in a junkyard or so the other school children chided and sang. His shoes were only in one piece due to the absurd amount of duct tape he had on them. In yhe reflection in the Principle's glasses, he could see signs of malnourishment on his face.

 

I feel that's better, at least in terms of perspective. The reader starting in the principles shoes does the story no favour

 

Also about 'placeholder' - give him a name - a random name, for now. You're not going to be able to connect as much with his character if he's called placeholder, even if it's temporary. Call him jack or something just for your Benifit and change it later.

 

 

 

Also, my side project is up. Check it out :D

Edited by Mokrie Dela

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TomVDC

Now this is I hope a definitive return to Writer's Discussion and the forums in general. I have long felt that there is no place quite like this and have been quietly lurking here for quite some time.

I only really wrote one thing on this forum, and though it was appreciated by people I then admired as The Unvirginiser and Oxidizer I hope to bring something more qualitative to the table this time around.

 

As such I have just posted a very short one-off story entitled "Memories". Now this was written today, in under an hour, but it was an idea that kept bouncing around in my head and kept me from sleep. I am sure some of you are familiar with the phenomenon.

  • Like 2

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Carbonox

I seem to have run into a problem that I simply have too many distractions at all times and keep finding excuses for procastrination. It's as if I can only write at night these days, when there's just nothing else to do. It gets annoying, I assure that.

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Mokrie Dela

There are times where it is easier to write. Night is common among them. Perhaps it's the day gone and done and ideas come, I don't know.

 

What's your writing setup like? Try to find a good place to do it. Personally I really want s zen garden to sit in and write, but I'm making do with wherever the hell I can. It's not ideal.

 

Try to find s place where you don't have TV or whatever distractions - even if it's a local library. Find somewhere you can focus solely on your writing. Set yourself a time where you HAVE to write (even if you don't use what you've written, write something, anything!

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Carbonox

I always write at the comfort of my own desktop. Don't think I'd be able to concentrate on writing for a second at a public place. Also TV's not exactly guilty of distracting me except maybe once or twice a week, but it's the internet that sucks me in day after day, always in search for something new. Of course, sometimes the things I find may actually be quite beneficial for story-writing. I've got inspired numerous times reading other people's fanfics.

 

And trust me, I've tried the deadlines. Too bad I either fail to follow them, or waste most of that time and then rush in to write the remaining text at the last moment. :p

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Mokrie Dela

With the Internet, the obvious solution is the old fashioned approach; go somewhere you don't have wifi. Leave your mobile/cell phone at home. Whatever your distraction is, isolate and eliminate it; figure out what's diverting your attention and find a way to block it. You might even find an underlying issue - confidence over your writing resulting in you subconsciously avoiding doing it, for example.

 

Consider music, too. While lyrical songs might distract you, I've found soundtracks and jazz to help me. In fact City of Lies was written (almost every chapter) with the splinter cell Conviction sound track playing. Much of JIF was too. you don't have to work in silence and music or whatever can be a tool. An elvis Presley song gave me the inspiration for a very emotion inner monologue chapter of FALLOUT (the chapter in question I never uploaded and have probably deleted). Rather fitting I mention that today, of all days.

 

Consider also a radical change. Ditch the laptop. Take a pen and paper out to the middle of nowhere. Sit in a cafe in the pouring rain, in the car at noon in traffic. The world is full of Inspirstion, from the simple to the sublime. Also, ask yourself why you write. Why did you start? What did you want from it? Remington yourself of that, they original drive to write, to create. Use yourself as motivation. Look at, say, city of lies, and say "I can do better." Look at The Raven and say 'I can do epic.' Read books like 1984 and day 'I can top that' find what it is that made you start in the first place.

 

And dont feel that you have to continue that 200,000 word behemoth. Write a short, a poem, one shot. Bump the one shot topic, or the bar. Write a letter to yourself of your sweet heart. Declare your love in prose for your Hollywood crush

. No one has to ever read it; the act of writing can in itself be a tool. Find what sparked that love we all share. Reignite it:

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Gnocchi Flip Flops

nvm

Edited by Scaglietti

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IDredMan

Hey, it's me again.

I'm just here to say that I've published my very first book on Kindle.

In cheap, short and sweet... Just like a prostitute.

 

I'm not gonna say its name or link it. I haven't read the rules, but I feel like self-promotion is against the rules.

I'm just here cause I feel good, even though It's not selling.

But hey, maybe I'll put it out for free in a few weeks, then I can show it to you people.

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Mokrie Dela

Hey, it's me again.

I'm just here to say that I've published my very first book on Kindle.

In cheap, short and sweet... Just like a prostitute.

 

I'm not gonna say its name or link it. I haven't read the rules, but I feel like self-promotion is against the rules.

I'm just here cause I feel good, even though It's not selling.

But hey, maybe I'll put it out for free in a few weeks, then I can show it to you people.

Yeah, you can not advertise in any way in posts. What you can do, however, is put a link in your signature. Make a request in the GFX section for some fancy artwork for it (as i did with the links in my sig) and have that as a link to the download page - not the direct file.

 

RE: selling - be patient. But also, it's not going to sell if no one knows about it. I put some vids on youtube and didn't get much views. But they're not great and I haven't advertised them.

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IDredMan

Hey, remember that book that I totally didn't advertise? It's free.

Aren't you all glad you didn't buy it?

(I'm serious, I have the numbers. I know how many people clicked that signature of mine then ignored it)

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Mokrie Dela

Are t you glad I'm choosing to not class that as advertising?

I joke.

 

I did click it, and I did download the kindle Ap, however the ap did not allow me to download it. I can't say I understand why. Mind you, I don't use kindle's services, so it is new to me.

 

That said, you're not going to get any positive feedback with a hostile attitude. In fact, just seeing that post, some people might blacklist you (for lack of a better term). Chill out.

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bodyparts

I'm writing this short film about a veteran living on the street that decides to seek revenge on the society. He builds a league of other people who also wants to seek revenge on society. They travel around Stockholm (The film takes place in Stockholm, for ya know.. obvious reasons) and commits deeds of evil on high rank politicians, banks and such. About halfway through the film he meets up with a girl that makes him anxious over his deeds. He decides to convert to a superhero and now he has to fight the league of supervillains that he built.

 

This is the first time I'm posting here, if I f*cked up with anything please tell me. So, what are your thoughts on this?

 

Cheers.

Edited by HipsterHillbilly

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Mokrie Dela

I actually like that idea. His actions reflect his life; when he finds something good he becomes good

 

I really like the idea of him fighting the very thing he created

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bodyparts

Thanks, man! I also got this short film idea I want to create:

 

An old blind right wing extremist is issued a new helper. Without knowing that the helper is black, the extremist and the helper bonds real good. When it becomes obvious that the helper isn't white, the extremist has to make a choice between his previous ideology and his new friend.

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Osric

I have just posted the prologue chapter of my greatest and most serious work yet, one I intend to commit to until the story is fully told. It's titled Appalachian Backyard Gaming and is loosely based on memories of my brothers and I first began playing Vampire The Masquerade when I was twelve years old. It is two stories in one, a framing story based on my childhood memories from that time, and the main story describing the actual plotline and events of the games we played.

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Mokrie Dela

I'll check that out soon, man.

 

I thought activity was starting to pick up a few weeks ago, but still quiet. Found myself in the same position I'm always advising patience on: no replies on my works. I'm looking at my 3 projects and finding it hard to keep the drive up to continue them.

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.Smaher.

Ok guys, can we talk character development for a moment?

 

I'm really struggling on developing one of my characters. ATM he's a bit boring, a bit flat. I usually just have it happen naturally but it's not this time, and I'm wondering shat methods you all use to build your characters up from a concept to a fully fledged interesting person.

Had that problem with one of my characters as well. What I basically did was keep the boring personalty of him added some backstory. Along with certain actions and likes that would pertain to his character. He's still "boring" per-say, but in a way, way more interesting than all the other characters.

Edited by .Smaher.

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AEsob

Okay, so I am not dead, thanks for (not) asking. Need to finish a few things at the moment, then take a refresher. I'll post the next chapter by 8th October.

 

It's ready, but needs polish.Tense is f*cked up at the moment, if anyone got time, energy and skill, would you proofread and help me edit it?

 

Oh, and, glad to see that this place is getting a bit more attention.

 

AEsob

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Mokrie Dela

Keep the activity up guys :)

I'm on holiday so won't reply too much the next few weeks. Just check in to keep my moderating duties up!

Hoping to use this time to get some serious progress on my writings as well

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Carbonox

I think the activity in this forum is just in constant up-down movement, and while we certainly are currently experiencing an "up" moment, I fear preserving it might be a whole 'nother story. Not really that many full-time writers around, but at least the future currently looks brighter than it did about half a year ago.

  • Like 1

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AEsob

Okay,so,what's wrong with cigars these days? Needed to relax, got a cigar expecting something nice. All I got was stale smoke.

 

Traffic will fluctuate, but a close knit community is far better than spammers and attention whores a forum with huge amount of traffic gets. Our led-by is doing a great job keeping this place nice.

 

And between my brother's exams and my laziness, not a lot of work is getting done

 

AEsob

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albanyave

Hey guys. I'm still around although quite busy at work. Still finding time to write. Glad to see that postings have picked up slightly here. This is a great place to get good friendly advice and to read really interesting compositions.

 

I've been working on two projects. They're coming along good but slow. One of my stories I haven't revealed a certain character. I've only dropped hints here and there. This character is a main character, the antagonist to be exact. When should I let the reader know who this person truly is? Or is there no real time frame to do so? It feels like I should do it now. I am 2/3 through the story.

 

Mokrie, hope you are enjoying your holiday.

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waxman.

I keep saying I'm going to write something, but haven't yet. I will very soon though, seeing that school is pretty much finished. I have my Year 12 graduation assembly/ceremony tomorrow, and to be honest, I'm actually quite emotional about it. As much as it's going to be great to leave school finally, it's still quite sad because I've met and been with so many great people. Ah, sh*t. Life goes on though. Hopefully I can get something posted here soon.

Edited by athande

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Rico44

You guys okay with fanfics? I'm working on one at the moment but I remember there was some criticism in the past here, saying they were boring and repetitive etc. I'd be ready to publish in a couple of weeks or so.

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Tikhung

My very first draft, a rough one that is. Opinions would be much appreciated.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 1: Mr. John Doe

It was a cold day in Brooklyn, the year was 2015. Snow was beautiful. Just beautiful. John, a 25-year-old would kill for a day like this, which apparently he didn’t do that to anyone except for his mother who passed away two years ago from a heart attack when John told her that he got fired for forgetting to flip the burger on time. John always dreamt to be an astronaut. If he were to break his mother’s heart, it would be by the news that her dear son had died in space. Of course, it was too late when he decided to drop out of college and followed his dream. John now wished that he were Marty Mcfly having a time machine to fix all this. Isn’t what this book is all about? He had that thought every night, in fact the last time it was when John was walking home from Target after buying a nice “A Christmas Story” Blu-Ray disc. No one was one the street except for a beautiful lady who approached John suspiciously yet awkwardly.

 

“Excuse me, is your name John Doe?” said the lovely young lady wearing a classy red coat.

“Who’s asking? Don’t read my name tag.” answered John, referring to a red name tag on his chest.

“Is that your real name?”

“Yes”

“Wow, that’s a nice name.”

“Gee, Thanks.”
“I’d kill for a name like Jane Roe, as opposed to Linda Wesson. I hate my name with guts.”
“Get out of here. Linda isn’t that bad of a name. I’m the one who’s got a sh*t name. A name like George or Robert would be nice.”

“Wouldn’t that sound too generic for you?”

“John is too a generic name, and so is Linda.”
“So…what’s up?”

“Eh…What’s up? Weren’t you asking me something?”

“Nothing.”

“Then what are you on about?”

“John, I want to get us married.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to be such a creep.”
“Oh, like you are doing right now?”

It was weird. Everything was weird. So weird that when John was walking away, the lady sobbed for no reason. John felt a little bit of guilt, but he didn’t care. He had had enough of being an attention of everything.

 

Christmas was just around the corner. John had been re-watching “A Christmas Story” for the fifth time now and every time he watched it, it made him miss his mother even more. She used to watch the film with him until he was old enough to get a car using his dad’s bank account. Although John remembered that it was his older brother Zach’s. If his mother were here she would’ve slapped him and told him to get a job. John had been unemployed for three months and he devoted all of that time to write a story about an autistic girl who approaches every guy on the street. It sounded awfully familiar and John didn’t know where he got that from until now.

 

“Merry Christmas!” shouted all of his friends.

 

Nice party. Carol was there. The Evans brothers were there. Rick, Joe, the other John, the small Chinese guy which John forgot the name in his class were all there. The mysterious young lady Linda somehow ended up there too. But she was beautiful just as he remembered so John didn’t care much. After the party, which was about nine o’ clock, John decided to talk to her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” cried John.
“It’s a fun party!” replied Carol.
“And what does that have to do with you? You were stalking me. I’m calling the cops”

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Get out of my house.”
“I’m sorry John. I’m really sorry.”

 

She couldn’t help but to say that she was deeply sorry. And from that moment, John couldn’t help but to fall madly in love with her. She then revealed her real name, which was Carol Wesson, she just thought that John was cute and she wanted to ask him out. John smiled, told her that it was okay and they slept together afterwards. Just plain sleeping, no cuddling nor sex but it was enough for John, to have some company he could talk to. A cuddle would be better though.

 

“Good morning!” said Carol in a cheerful way.

“Good…good morning. Linda, right?” Joe realized what he had done.

“Carol! I made you pancakes, sleepy head.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you like orange juice or coffee?”
“Water is okay.”
“Gosh, you were snoring the whole night!”
“You need me to drive you home? Where do you live?”

“Houston, Texas.”
“Texas? Are you joking or what?”
“No, I’m not.”

“Then tell me, where do you live?”
“Houston, Texas.”

 

She was a broken record. John didn’t care as long as she was pretty. He wanted her to stay as long as possible using a simple reverse psychology trick he read online. She was very eccentric, but nice to John and wasn’t in any way a bad person. Cute as a button to John’s eyes, he just tried to convince himself that she wasn’t. His brain begged to differ.

 

They had dated and lived together for five months. Those five months were probably the highest point of John’s life since the death of his mother. Carol never left the house except for when she bought John groceries. John also got a new job at Subway. Occasionally, they had sex. It went on perfect for both of them until one day Carol decided to tell John a secret…

 

“Honey…” Carol said.

“Oh hey…What is it, sweetheart?”

“I have something I need to tell you…”

“Go ahead. I won’t judge.”
“I come from the future.”
“You...what? Say that again…” John was confused.
“I come from the future.”
“Again…what?” John, still, confused.

“I come from the future.”

“Oh.” John finally realized what was happening.

“In the year 2060, time machine was invented, or, will be invented by a man named Mikey Wesson, that would be my father.” explained Carol, “I’m from 2077.”

“Are you some sort of Terminator, who got sent here by my future son?”
“No. I am in no way related to you or your son. I just like the year 2016 so much. Oh and by the way, wanna check out what the future looks like?”

John went from being confused to being angry, to questioning his purpose of existence and finally doubting. He doubted she had a time machine like any rational person would do in his position.

“Sur…Sure.” He replied.

Carol pulled out a small rectangle plate in her pocket. It looked just like a typical smartphone in the 2010s, Joe thought. Carol talked into the phone or as the way they called it in the future, a “plago”, whatever the hell that means.

“Time” she said.

“13:45. Day: 23. Month: February. Year: 2016.” a voice was heard from the plago.

“So, in the future they finally switched to the metric system?” John joked.

“Yes, that is correct. The United States of America switched to the metric system in 2029 if I recall correctly.” Carol said and took John by his hand, “Get ready. We’re going into the future”.

 

Bam. That just happened. Nothing but a blink of eyes and they were in the future. John still didn’t believe what he had just witnessed and punched himself really hard in the face. He didn’t wake up but instead got a broken nose. He gazed around the future world and he didn’t believe in his eyes: Everything was green. Everyone had a smile on their faces. The temperature like it said in Carol’s plago was 23. Must’ve been Celsius because it was just right. Not as cold as mid-January nor as hot as the first day of July. Everything was perfect. There was a sign that read “Welcome to Houston, TX” and a rocket that was probably aiming for Mars. Is Google still around? John thought.

 

“Tell me more about the future” asked John.

“We switched from using gas cars to electric cars. Mars was colonized in 2050. Google Glass turned from glasses to lens. Everyone is a liberal now and all drugs were legalized in the year 2034”

“Even Heroin, DMT?”
“Yes.”
“What about abortions?”
“Birth control pills are more effective than ever”

“Science?”

“We finally cured AIDS.”

“Art?”
“Minimalism takes control of everything now.”

“I want to go home.”
“As you please.”

 

Carol talked the date where John came from into the plago as John was hoping to God It was all a dream. Bam. He was back and Carol was never there. He missed her as much as he thought how bizarre all of this sounded and looked up information about time traveling on his computer. All the message boards, all the Wikipedia pages said that it wasn’t possible to time travel into the past or a far future without breaking the light barrier. John concluded it was all bollocks and went on with his boring, unfulfilling life. He didn’t have to live this way but he still did and nothing could stop him now. Except for his six-year-old self. Or his late mother. Or the light barrier. Or Carol. Speaking of Carol, he hadn’t seen her for six months (or 61 years if you prefer to look at that way) already and John somehow missed. She was crazy, sure, but in a way she reminded him of his mother. Or maybe she really was his mother and he just banged his own mom. Thoughts like that kept him up at night, making him feel guilty about what he did although he didn’t do anything morally wrong as far as poor Carol knew. Carol O Carol. How was he supposed to summon her now? He wasn’t a Time Lord. Or maybe he was. Or maybe he was a psychopath all along. He sought therapy. First day with Mrs. Weston, the best psychiatrist in town was a nightmare to John.

 

“Mr. John Doe?” Mrs. Weston asked.
“That’s me.”

“You’ve got a very nice name, Mr. Doe.”

“I get that a lot.”

“May I ask how you got that name?”
“My father liked himself a John.”

“Ok, Mr. Doe. Why did you go with therapy?”

“I don’t know…”
“Has anything recently occurred in your life?”

“I met a girl. She was beautiful and kind. Her name is Carol, I think.”

“Great. And how did this Carol’s presence affect your life?”
“We met when I was walking down the street nearly four months ago. She was a weird one. She stalked me and I severely enjoyed it. She then said that she came from the future and I thought she was a lunatic until she took me to the year 2077 and I’ve seen some stuff. This is some sci-fi sh*t I tell ya. Everything was green. Everyone was smiling and happy. All drugs were legal even the big gun DMT as Carol said. And I was back. f*ck I don’t even know that I should tell you this or not, this is beyond my f*cking imagination.”

“Have you got anxiety, depression or PTSD recently?”

“Not as far as I know.” Mr. Doe answered.
“I need to sort out some information. How about we’ll meet up tomorrow?”

“Good.”

 

And so it went. Months later, John was severely better and the memories of Carol, time machines, all that bizarre crap disappeared slowly like a sunset. And a sunset occurs every day.

 

Exactly one year later, a 26-year-old John invested only five thousand dollars on a website that he knew had potentials to become a massive business. John now had sort of a passive income and he was proud of it. He no longer had to deal with financial problems, anxiety or depression. He could do whatever he wanted now. Everything went well, that until a middle-aged man who stumbled into him one day.

 

“Excuse me…mister…Do you happen to be John Doe?” old man said.

“That would be me. Can I help you sir?” Mr. Doe replied.

“Haven’t met you in a while…my old friend…”

“Excuse me, sir?”
“Hi John.”

 

It was clear as day for John. That man was no one else but John himself, in about 45 years give or take in the future. John had been doing therapy for a while, but deep down he still refused to not believe in what he had experienced with time traveling and…Carol. Speaking about Carol, he still missed her. There was something about her that made him crazy, like a morbid fantasy

 

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t know you.” John said with all due respect.

“Bullsh*t, you do.” old man said as he had known John for years.

“I do?”
“John? John Doe? Who do you think I am?”
“Robert Redford? I don’t know.”
“Say my name.”

“John Doe.”

“Remember me now?”

 

A seventy-year-old John was looking healthier than elders in their 60s when 26-year-old John looked at him. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, time traveling was indeed real and he fully believed in it now. He only had himself to blame for being such an idiot.

 

“Look, kid. I want to take you back in time” said the old John.

“But why, exactly? Time traveling is dangerous, you of all people should know better. Hell, what will have I turned into?” 26-year-old John retorted.

“Kid, you will understand when you’re older. Maybe ten, fifteen years from now. I don’t even remember when I even lost my virginity let along when I truly grew up. When did I lose my virginity? Oops, when did we lose our virginities again? ”
“Nineteen, I think.”
“That late? Kids these days lose their virginities at twelve or thirteen, it’s not even funny. I’ve only got myself to blame. Also and,”

 

Just as the old John finished his sentence, they were instantly teleported into a middle of nowhere. It was the year 1996 as old John’s plago said, “7:30. Day: 3. Month: September. Year: 1996”.

 

“What the hell man?” young lad yelled.

“I believe this is our first day at school, no? Third of September, 1996.”

 

 

Edited by Tikhung

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