Friday, March 9, 2012

New Novel I'm working on: Opening Chapter

“Ha ha ha ha.” he thinks.

Alexander had hit his head on the cupboard. He always likes to laugh after something annoying happens. It’s better to laugh things off than yell and scream about them. But he stopped vocalizing it when he noticed people thought it was weird.

“A year ago I would have snapped your door in half.” he tells the cupboard.

The cupboard didn’t reply.

“Ha ha.”

Alex has always had trouble with people. Not that he despises them, though he’ll say he does. His problem is that people... bore him. Humans are so complex and have such awareness, but they won’t acknowledge the fact that they can literally do anything they want, whenever they want. We are all trained to act a certain way as not to come off as “weird” or “crazy”.

“Show me one person who hasn’t sang in the mirror, and I’ll show you a liar” he thinks.

A lot of times when he sees a tree next to a sidewalk, he wants to climb it. He used to be able to when he was younger and not at that strange point called maturity. But full grown adults don’t climb trees they see while walking to the grocery store. It’s easier to find a surprising person to live through vicariously. Somebody... weird?
Crazy?
Interesting?
Alive?

He likes to make lists. It makes him laugh.

“Ha.”

Some people still surprise him, what the laymen would call “crazy people”. He tries his upmost to make them friends. He has a few good friends. He has much more acquaintances. But he feels that his weirdly interesting friends would fight for him tooth and nail and he could return the favor. As opposed to many shallow friendships where they will only help you move.

One day, one of his weirdly interesting friends asked him a question, “What’s your spirit animal?”

“A dog” he barked.

He meant this as a joke obviously, but then considered it in deeper detail later. He thinks about himself and realizes he is a dog. His loyalty to friends, family, and ideas is no doubt that like a dog’s. Sometimes he gets off his leash and runs off for a few weeks, but always come back to his friends like he never left. Being a dog would be pretty good anyways. People would have to get to know you to understand you because you don’t have much to say.

“How’s it going?”
“Woof”
“Oh that’s nice.”

The oh-so-many acquaintances dislike that sometimes he doesn’t remember their names. They get upset. It’s easier to smile and walk away at those times.

“If they want me to know their name so badly why don’t they make a mark in my memory?” he thinks.

Like any good dog he is friendly to just about anyone, but do they expect him to remember the names of every person who he idly chats with about the weather?

To remedy his memory he likes to associate people with animals now. What he can see them as.

At a party recently he slurred, “There are a lot of lemmings, snakes, apes, and ostriches in this world you know. I of course speak of fools, the cruel, the aggressive, and the cowardly. But really out of that bunch, it’s still mostly lemmings.”

They mostly ignored him or gave him strange looks.

“Well excuse me, lemmings”

He met another dog-person once too.
She was a woman.
She was a dog-woman.
A bitch?
“Ha.”

She may have been the only person who saw him as the dog-man he was. After he’d return from mental wanderings alone in his room for a few weeks she’d appear. This often developed into wild, sweaty, passionate sex. (Complete with guttural animal noises) But that wasn’t the best part. The best part is that after they’d exercised those natural animal emotions he would lay his head in her lap and stare at her with a smile. He wouldn’t say a word, he would just admire her.

She would run her fingers through his shaggy hair and pet his head until he fell asleep.

She was soft, beautiful, wild, and warm.

“I think she loved me for the sweaty dog-man I am”, he thinks.

She’s still around, but the stupid dog-man ruined their puppy love.

Her name is Amanda; she is a dog-girl.

She made her mark.

1 comment:

  1. I saved this to my email and every now and again I tell myself to delete it but find myself reading it for God only knows what reason. I guess because I remember it oh so well and honestly the last person I gave my heart to so I guess it left a mark. Days of the past only make you stronger for the future.

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