Some Writing Exercises

Lyle felt the crunch of alien tissues beneath his booted feet as the bastard’s head exploded against the wall with a sickening spray of blood and what he assumed was brain matter. The alien soldier – who bore marks of such high visibility that Lyle assumed he was a commander – slumped to the ground, its neck still squirting blood at a regular rhythm.

A second later, Lyle was himself on the ground, on his back, though he did have all of his tissues intact. He drew the rifle from under his back, cursing it for not being softer, and looked back and forth down the hall, drawing himself up into a crouch.

“Bastards shoulda never come on my ship,” he said, using the back of his hand to wipe flecks of blood from his cheek.

Distressed shouting drew Lyle’s gaze in the general direction of engineering, though he couldn’t yet spot the source; the fact that he recognized the shouting as human further garnered his interest, though he progressed slowly, using the rifle as though it were an extension of his jaw, sweeping back and forth and listening for anything that might give his foes away.

Daring to expose himself, he rolled across a perpendicular corridor down which he guessed was whoever was shouting. Lyle strained his ears, but could only catch snippets…

“Take that, ye crummy bastard, and one for yer motha, too, aye…” followed by the sickening crunch of something hard tearing through bone, sinew, and flesh. Lyle could only hope that it was alien. The shouting ceased. He broke into a run, fearing that whatever survivor he had heard was wounded or killed, and only hoping that he could reach them in time.

At the far end, he could see only a crouching figure, and another with an enormous chunk of its head taken out, blood pooling around its head. Taking the crouching figure square in his sights, Lyle crouched and spoke normally; “Who’s that?”

A smile spread across the lips of the figure, and Lyle instantly recognized it as human. Hearing the accented voice this close only cemented his recognition; “Not gonna shoot me, are ye, laddeh?”

“Ah, shit, Wallace, what…what did you do it?”

The ship’s cook – Joel Wallace – rose to his feet, ignoring Lyle’s question, though the blood-stained wrench in his right hand left little need for question. A small shudder worked its way up Lyle’s back, but he said nothing. Wallace had been with the crew for years, and while he’d always been rowdy and boisterous, Lyle never could have imagined him capable of such a blatantly violent act.

The man was probably unstable.

Without a word, Lyle unstrapped the alien’s harness from its chitinous shoulders and tossed it to Wallace, who wore it across his chest like a bandolier, alien weapons clattering against one another as he shifted it. As he did so, Wallace stepped into the dim light given off by one of the hall lamps, and Lyle could see that the man’s overalls were tarred in alien gore; he wondered how many of them the Scotsman had felled.

Lyle closed his eyes, and saw Lorraine’s death again. Shit, I’m tired.

“Y’all right there, laddeh?” Wallace asked, idly fiddling with one of the larger blades strapped to his stolen bandolier.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Alarms blared, and panic ensued. What the hell is the purpose of alarms, anyway? Lyle mused. Not like people can really go anywhere. It’ll just make them stick their stupid heads out, and expose them to even more danger. The ship’s paltry security teams assembled, armed, and then spread out again to cover all of the airlocks as instructed by the captain, whose complete lack of tactical sense bordered on disgusting.

If it were up to Lyle, he’d lock all of the unarmed civilians in engineering, give them a couple guards, decompress the rest of the ship except for one airlock so that he’d know where the aliens were certain to come from, and then hunker down and prepare. That way, there’d be no idiot civvies in the way when the shooting started.

No one asked Lyle, though.

In fact, he’d been essentially told he was on his own, and so he’d acted accordingly, procuring weapons from an abandoned security locker, and stripping off unnecessary elements of his attire. Lyle had never before fired a rifle, but he figured that if everything went well, he wouldn’t have to. He wasn’t an optimist, though.

-- 1-23-2007

The Fuschia Dream’s Sergeant-at-arms, Darius Orlovsky, stood before the airlock, framed by the massive doors. Lyle watched as Orlovsky pulled a cigarette from a breast pocket, thought the better of it, and put it behind his ear; he hoped that indecision wasn’t one of the more significant side-effects of the man’s nerves.

"A Higher Calling"

A script for a play I wrote for Creative Writing class, based in the Cthulhu mythos...

“A Higher Calling”

By: Mike Sowell

Characters:

Gefreiter Andreas Kaiser – Crewman aboard U-529

Hauptgefreiter Joachim Balter --

Oberstleutnant Adolphus Roem – SS Officer attached to U-529

Oberst Hermann Hebel – Captain of U-529

Gefreiter Langenscheidt – Crewman aboard U-529

Gefreiter Schangenholm – Crewman aboard U-529

Setting: Unterseeboot-529, a cramped German U-Boat in the South Pacific – a fact not registered on the official record because the U-Boat was commandeered by the SS for the purpose of investigating rumors of powerful ancient artifacts, as part of the Nazi party’s campaign to acquire physical symbols to cement their credibility as the true inheritors of the Earth.

AT RISE:

Andreas Kaiser: [Raising periscope] Nothing to report, Hauptgefreiter. All is quiet, as usual.

Joachim Balter: [Standing behind Kaiser] Ja, ja, as usual.

AK: Just like everything else onboard.

JB: Not exactly.

AK: No? What do you mean?

JB: [Smiling] I guess you’d not have noticed, being a sound sleeper…but, well, the Captain’s been having these strange nightmares. Absolutely terrifying, really, if the screams are any indication. A lot of the crew has been unable to sleep well, even the Oberstleutnant, and those SS Officers are supposed to have nerves of steel.

AK: Ah, I see. And since he’s the Captain, we can’t just keep him up at all times, even if it meant letting the rest of the crew sleep…

JB: Correct, correct. We don’t know what to do. The fat kid in the galley has been whipping up every backwater cure-all recipe that the farmboys in the fore torpedo bay have been able to pull from their asses, but alas, the dreams are only getting worse.

AK: Ah…I suppose I should be grateful for my sleeping habits, then. Hey, look at it this way – it’d be a lot worse if the galley ran out of coffee. That would be a true tragedy.

JB: Don’t you worry, Andreas. Things will be getting worse. Just wait.

Lights out, all but one, on ANDREAS KAISER, who takes a deep breath and begins speaking to the audience, his head bowed ever-so-slightly.

AK: He was right. The Oberst’s tortured screams got to the point that none of the crew slept, even me. The men got edgy at first, and then started to just…fall apart.

Lights come back in full as KAISER moves offstage. A lone sailor stands over the curled up body of another, his chest heaving before he turns his head and shouts.

Schangenholm: HELP! Come quickly! Langenscheidt, he’s…he’s been hurt!

KAISER and BALTER rush in and kneel beside LANGENSCHEIDT, who remains silent and still.

JB: He’s…damn, he’s gone. What happened to him?

GS: A…well, I was, here, working, and one of the valves, it was a valve, it burst, and I was fixing it, and when I turned around, he was…it must have struck him…my God, there’s…there’s blood everywhere…

Lights out again, and again the spotlight is on KAISER as he stands and moves to center stage.

AK: According to our corpsman, Langenscheidt’s death had been the result of nearly a dozen forceful blows to the head, with something big and heavy…just like the wrench that we’d seen Schangenholm holding as we tried to revive Langenscheidt. Strangely enough, aside from this, things quieted down quite a bit. The Captain even stopped having nightmares. Yes, the entire ship seems to have settled down…

The lights return slowly, and reveal OBERSTLEUTNANT ADOLPHUS ROEM standing before a low table covered in maps and instruments, one hand on the table, leaning forward, the other at his waist. Unconsciously, ROEM moves his hand over the grip of his holstered pistol several times, then back to his belt.

AK: Everything alright, Oberstleutnant Roem?

Roem: [Looks up quickly, clearly startled by the sudden realization that anyone else had been in the room with him.] Ja, ja, Gefreiter, I appreciate your concern. In fact, the entire crew has gone above and beyond the call of duty on this mission. Once again, Deutschmarine high command exhibits its talent for choosing only the finest crews and vessels for SS missions. The Fuhrer will no doubt be very pleased.

AK: We only do as ordered, Oberstleutnant. Your fearless leadership is the very glue that holds our beloved ship together.

Roem: [Bowing head slightly] I appreciate your kind words, Gefreiter Kaiser. I only hope that this trait of mine will be sufficient to maintain order amongst the men in the times to come.

AK: I am as confident in your abilities as I am in the discipline of the crew, Oberstleutnant. I believe that you have nothing to fear.

Roem: [Smiling, some of his tension clearly melting away] We shall see, we sh—

Simultaneously, the lights go out, and the sharp POP of several pipes bursting pierces the ensuing silence, followed by distant screams echoing through the vessel’s halls.

(Voice of) AK: What…what’s going on, Oberstleutnant?

(Voice of) Roem: I, I don’t know, but help me fix these leaks! Come, now!

A single red spotlight fixes upon Oberst HERMANN HEBEL, kneeling downstage, hands on his legs, head bowed. Slowly, a smile creeps across his lips, and he says quietly:

Hebel: C’thulhu fh’tagn, mein kameraden, C’thulhu fh’tagn…

The door to Hebel’s quarters slams open at his back, and JOACHIM BALTER is framed in the doorway, red light from the hallway outside silhouetting him.

JB: Captain? Captain, we’ve been having some serious problems, and…

All lights out, now, but one, on ANDREAS KAISER, center stage, head bowed and arms crossed slightly, a bolt-action rifle slung over one shoulder.

AK: The Captain said nothing, but Oberstleutnant Roem ordered us to the surface. He was the highest-ranking officer on the ship, so of course we followed without hesitation. As we stepped out onto the deck, we could hardly believe the sight that lay before us…a tremendous city, filled with buildings of a style we’d never before seen, or even heard of. Before I’d realized it, the Captain had made it on deck. He started speaking again, but all he said was –

Hebel: -- C’thulhu fh’tagn –

AK: -- and stood alone, on the prow, as though he wanted to be closer to this gargantuan city than any other member of the crew. It seemed almost as though the enormous city before us had some kind of power over him. None of us spoke a word to him. Roem, on the other hand, said nothing at all, but instead merely stared at the island before us, transfixed upon its magnificence. He seemed distant, and frightened, though by what I may never know, and would never ask.

JB: [Joining KAISER in the spotlight] When finally Roem began to speak again, he didn’t hesitate to order a small contingent of crewmen to go ashore, in the only raft we had aboard.

Roem: [Light fading on the others, then coming back in full force. Speaking to THE CAPTAIN on deck, though their conversation can’t be made out. Behind them, armed sailors load crates into the raft, their faces determined, almost…fatalistic.] …nein, Captain. Who will stay here and watch the vessel?

Hebel: I am sure that with your practically limitless amount of leadership ability, Oberstleutnant, you will manage to see to it that she stays safe. Surely you understand that a Captain must simultaneously follow his men and see to his ship, and set the two as priorities in precisely that order. I’ll have no more argument, Oberstleutnant.

Roem: [Clearly relieved] Very well, Captain. I see that you can not be dissuaded. Even so, my obligations to my superiors must be fulfilled. All I ask is that you write down, in great and painstaking detail, everything that you encounter, and take as many pictures as you can.

Hebel: [Nodding, accepting a camera that Roem hands him] Count on me, Oberstleutnant. [These last words as he steps into the raft.]

Roem: [To THE CAPTAIN] Remember, Oberst, leave nothing out. [The Captain nods, and Roem stands silently on the deck, his hand slowly, subtly, moving to the grip of his pistol.]

Lights out. KAISER comes out again, his clothes tattered, cradling a rifle in his arms. Solemnly:

AK: That was the last we ever saw of Roem, our ship, and the rest of the crew. The next night came an otherworldly moan, and a tremendous crash…

A tremendous screech of metal followed by a splash, and screams of surprise and anguish, all underscored by a terrible, low, moan.

AK: No one needed to ask what happened. Somehow, we all knew. I don’t think any one of us slept that night, but somehow in the morning, we realized that the Captain had slipped away.

Shakes his head and turns – the lights come back, and reveal that he is accompanied by JB, the two of them stalking through the forest, rifles at port arms, as if expecting danger.

JB: To be truthful, I don’t even understand why we’re looking for the Captain, that damn nutcase. He’ll do us no good even if we find him, especially without even a ship to command.

AK: [Stops and holds up two fingers] Ssshhh…

Distant chanting catches their attention, who look upstage, where the light falls on THE CAPTAIN, who kneels in the red light, hands on his legs, chanting quietly, oblivious to the presence of our two heroes. Vague chants of “C’thulhu fh’tagn” can be heard, and he begins to raise his hands.

JB: [Sneering] Great. Morning prayer. Fine, then, we’ll just have to come back later.

THE CAPTAIN pays them no attention, continuing his chant, he stands, still facing away from the two sailors. JOACHIM shoulders his rifle, taking careful aim at THE CAPTAIN, his face twisting into a mask of unadulterated rage, ready to cut the man down, but seeming as though he’s waiting for something. KAISER looks over and sees JOACHIM aiming at THE CAPTAIN, and slaps the muzzle of his rifle down, but it goes off anyway, striking the ground right in front of them.

Both sailors freeze, frightened of the repercussions from THE CAPTAIN, who turns and stands.

Hebel: Hah…mortal weapons…I’d have thought you somewhat more cunning than that, Hauptgefreiter Balter.

JB: You have no right, referring to me by rank! You left us, left us to die! And for what? Some stone city, in the middle of, of nowhere? Your crew is dead, your ship is gone! What do you have left?

AK: [Pushing JB to the side] Look, Captain, we just need your help, sir, we’re running low on supplies, and—

Hebel: FOOLS! To think that I give a whit about your petty grievances! The power of the German war machine is nothing compared to that of a single pound of stone from this ancient city! Himmler never could have even imagined the tremendous power of this city! And do you know what, scheissenhunden? [They shake their heads] It’s mine.

AK: [Mumbling] You really have completely lost your mind, Captain…

Hebel: Hah! The only crazy ones here are you two! Pandering about the outskirts, with your mortal rifles, while I’ve been sapping the energy of this immortal place, this, the tomb of C’thulhu.

Rain softly begins to fall, soaking the lot of them quickly. The Captain’s hair comes down over his eyes.

JB: [Lowering his rifle, his body less tense overall] What…ka-who?

Hebel: [Sneering] C’thulhu fh’tagn…"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

AK: Wh--…what are you, what are you chanting, Oberst?

Hebel: Do you not know, comrade? Has not Dread C’thulhu come to you in your dreams, and shared with you his wisdom, that which has indirectly perpetuated the existence of the human race?

AK: N—no, Oberst, I’ve…I’ve had no such dreams…

Hebel: Never mind that, for now…I must…I must complete the ritual! I must!

THE CAPTAIN turns away from them, and kneels again, chanting the entire phrase now, his head bowed slightly. Not turning, he says:

Hebel: It is a chant of reverence, I believe…and a claim to the infinite power which once manifest itself in a single being: C’thulhu. His power, it will be mine, soon…fear not, boys…I’ll not hurt y—

A tremendous moan disturbs THE CAPTAIN’s speech, and he stands and watches in shock as something occurs offstage. Immediately, BALTER follows suit, but KAISER, sensing that something is dreadfully wrong, begins running.

Hebel: Oh, God…how could I have forgotten? “That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die.” I’m…I’m sorry, my Overlord, please…please, spare me…[Looking up, now…loud breathing is heard…lights go OUT…a roar, and an anguished cry]

Spotlight on KAISER, front and center, rifle cradled in his arms, bearded and unkempt.

AK: I ran. That was all I could do. It…it didn’t chase me, but…I heard Joachim for several nights after that. Eventually, I went back to that very spot, where we’d seen the monster, and there he was…sitting there, rocking back and forth like a frightened child, crying his eyes out. His fingernails had been torn off, and I could see scratches in the dirt around him, where he’d tried to dig a hole with his bare hands.

Meanwhile, JOACHIM is in the background, a solitary light upon him, its harsh brightness casting shadows on his features, as he follows ANDREAS, doing exactly what he describes, as he describes it.

AK: For months, I cared for Joachim, whose mind surely must have been lost in its entirety on that fateful night as he and the Captain laid eyes on that…that monster, or however you may deign to describe C’thulhu. And then, Oberstleutnant, you returned to us…how?

Lights return in full force to reveal OBERSTLEUTNANT ROEM, standing before KAISER, his pistol in hand, a smirk on his lips. BALTER sits behind Kaiser, head in hands, shaking uncontrollably, and muttering incoherently.

Roem: It was quite easy, honestly. All I had to do was fake the sinking of the U-529, scatter the necessary debris to make it all believable, and then radio Berlin to send the Kriegsmarine. As soon as they arrived, we came ashore, not daring to make a move before the Fuhrer himself had deemed it safe for any true loyal member of the party to set foot on the island. Now, knowing of what the Captain tried to do, I regret to inform you that you are to be charged with treason. As executor of the will of the Third Reich, and by proxy the German people, I pronounce you a traitor to the party, and thus barely worthy of the bullets that my duty requires I put into your subhuman body.

AK: No, no, Oberst, you don’t underst—

ROEM fires two shots each into KAISER and BALTER. They fall instantly, and their bodies twitch briefly before ROEM fires into them again, silencing them. He turns and signals to the sailors behind him, out of sight.

Roem: Come. We’ve no business left here to which we are required to attend.

FIN

Mike's Day Off

So, I didn't feel like going to school today, so I faked sick.

Unfortunately, I fear that guilt might ruin a day that I'd intended to be otherwise relaxing. All I want to do today is reintroduce myself to trading in SWC, write things I've been meaning to write for a long time, watch a couple movies, and clean my room.

Honestly, is that so much to ask? I don't think it is.

I remember Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and envy the protagonist for his carefree lack of scruples.

Honesty is my curse.