the Rambler Thread - Writer's Club

Hello everbody!

This is my first attempt to create something literary not in my mother tongue. I'm trying to make up a surreal and chaotic atmosphere for a graphic novel. There's probably too much text as it is now, but I'm looking for as much inspiration as I can get, so I permit myself to go through some lenghts.

The story is losely tied together by characters like this first one, who live in a city and experience it each from another perspective. Yet there is also a plan to destroy the whole city in one go, which is what the main plot is about. In the end it turns out the destruction just transformed the city, instead of wiping it out. Better or worse? -You'll find it out.

(I have two options - either the badness of the city thrives under its destrcution and transforms it into something even deadlier, or e.g. a flooding takes place and renders only the higher level of buildings still inhabitable. So it will resemble a new venice and a new town is build from it)

Anyway, here's the scraps. More about the conspiracy and the "Chaos Knights" later...

Rambler

I'm sitting at my desk, sunlight is crawling across it. The days are getting longer and there's surely an end to recession in sight. It's a secret signal upon which all of humanity starts working and likewise stops when the signal stops. I don't know how it works, I don't hear it, but I've seen it in other men and women. In times of crisis this mechanism gets completely out of roll. It always starts with everyone working frantically, building for a century, just to pull it all down again in war or to lose it by failure. Next comes resignation. I'm a child of this city, but my heart ain't in it. I'm actually a completely different person at another place.

I have to leave. I have been sitting in the office for long enough, even though there is nothing left to do. They sent us out half an hour early, because public transport is on strike. The city's transportation system has collapsed. The drivers are too lazy to get in their trains and prefer spending the day in bed. It takes me countless hours of aimless walking to finally find the way back home. I am still not used to crossing the town on foot.
On the way, I notice people camping in front of their houses, because they cannot pay the rent. They divided the sidewalk among each other and painted white lines across their belongings. Sometimes you see the shape of a tv painted to a wall. Not many have a real television and if so, they don't live on the streets. There is a hectic racket going on, millions of people walking through the city, going somewhere, getting nowhere. Often one's destination is anothers starting point. They are holding speeches on each corner, bragging with their knowledge of the world, while the world passes them by. We have tangible problems here and need our own laws. We always have to help ourselves, always! Of course its not me saying this. It's just something you catch up, while walking by and if you walk far enough you start saying it yourself.

The way is long. I'm trying to conserve energy by wrapping myself up in some countries' national flag I found torn on the ground. It keeps me warm. I should be looking for another flat, but after work I mostly lack the sap to take a look at available accomodations. Most of the Weekends I spend waking cold and drunk on somebody elses floor. It's not a good way of life and its making me sick. Yet, still I keep repeating myself over and over. Maybe I need the injections the gouvernment is handing out. There are viruses, the water isn't clean. Have to be careful. I keep walking through a narrow passage, which is what's left of the road between allotments of the residents. They don't look at me, maybe they don't see me. Maybe for them the walls still exist

Occasionally, I have to stop to realign myself. It's hard to keep track of where you're going when all the highest buildings are exploding. You're looking at something really tall one day and get a bearing on it and the next day its gone and just a pile of rubble. I keep walking. I see my house and I'm relieved. I walk past the house, onto the small path across the garden. The gravel grinds under my feet."Everything is alright", I hear myself saying.Among the many small tents I quickly fnd my own and prepare for the night. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day.

Edited by: SinKing