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Topic: 'They Call Me Crazy' (Read 299 times)

Blacksheep
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'They Call Me Crazy'
« Thread Started on Jun 23, 2012, 12:41am »

A few weeks ago I was bored and feeling creative. So I hashed together some stuff from old poems and weird feelings and opinions I possess. It's nowhere near finished, and it's definitely not fluid, so feel free to nail me to the cross if you feel confused. This is not a day-by-day story, by the way. Enjoy, and don't be afraid to criticize. You won't hurt my feelings.

'They Call Me Crazy', The Journal of an American Detainee

A short, tan man in dirty coveralls fiddled with a ring of keys outside of a small quonset hut. After a moment of struggling with the lock he managed to open the door. Once inside, he secured it and set a piece of rebar across two brackets on either side of the wall beyond the threshhold.

He knelt by a desk and turned on a portable radio and turned up the volume; the signal was not very clear, but it played the classic rock he appreciated. He hummed along to Buffalo Springfield's For What It's Worth and sat indian - style, taking a Zippo and a Lucky Strike cigarette from his breast pocket. He put it to his lips, ignited the coffin nail, and after replacing the lighter felt around on the floor of his cramped quarters for a spell.

With his fingertips he tugged at a floorboard. It was jarred from its place after a few seconds of jostling that had obviously been perfected after years of practice. The board was carefully lifted and placed aside to reveal a hole nearly a foot deep and two feet across. From it he took a wooden stationery kit and a battered ammunition can. The kit was placed on the desk above and the ammo can beneath it.

He opened it and removed a small book wrapped in plastic along with a pen. The book was unwrapped and placed alongside the box. The point was pressed to the first page.

15 April 2030

My name is Stanley Shawe Kelly. I was born in San Jose, California on April 15th of 2002. Today is my birthday. I am twenty eight years old and live in Energy Camp 'Great Basin' outside of Ely, Nevada where I am a custodian at a school. I am known as citizen 332-13-8936 (F).

My wife and three children are with Jesus. I miss them every day.

We are called bigots because we protest executive overreach.

We are called traitors because we question authority of the corrupt.

We are the enemy and the enslaved.

In 2022 President Lee Chavez was elected under a Democrat - Republican unity ticket formed as a coalition against the growing threat of a movement known only as the 'Liberals'. This political movement was outlawed and put on the federal terror watchlist shortly after the election after a nationwide investigation of members resulted in seizure of goods and arrests for purported domestic terror activities. These activies included, but were not limited to firearm ownership, stocks of a week's worth of food or more, and 'radical' reading material.

To make this possible, a committee headed by the Department of Justice and the Chavez Administration initiated an executive order called the 'Police Actions and Powers Act', or 'PAPA' for short.

PAPA put every police agency in the United States under the direct authority of the Department of Justice, which as a body of the executive branch could provide the administration with unlimited ability to exercise its will in the name of collective safety and security.

They took me away from my wife and children after I was laid off and could no longer support them. All of our tax dollars went to the undocumented folks anyways. I got placed in Great Basin and was given a job through the camp's lottery system as a janitor. Guess it didn't matter that I'd spent a few years doing IT work beforehand. That's just how it works - piss poor idea.

I do not know where my family is but I get a letter every month saying they are 'okay'. I fear only the worst.

Stanley turned to the last page of the journal. He had read what was written here before nearly every day.

One day you can write about your adventures in this book, and you can tell me about all of them.

I love you, buddy. Happy birthday.

Dad

Below the message was an old polaroid of a him as a child with his mother and father along with a two dollar bill. He closed the journal and put both hands to it. With a long, pained exhale, he carefully covered it in its plastic wrapping and placed it in his breast pocket. The stationery kit was left in its place and the ammunition can was brought up to his lap.

He pulled on the lid of the container and produced a parcel in a manila envelope. The envelope was opened and he placed the object wrapped in an oily rag on the table gently to avoid making too much noise.

The rag was carefully unwrapped to reveal a revolver; a British Webley Mk. VI that his great grandfather had brought back from the War as a gift to his son - Stanley's father.

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MEGATØN
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Re: 'They Call Me Crazy'
« Reply #1 on Jun 23, 2012, 2:02pm »

I think that's pretty good actually. I spotted one obvious missing comma, but there aren't a lot of technical composition errors in it, at least jarring ones.

And the story is interesting too. I like how, at least so far, you kind of blend current political divisions into one amorphous "enemy".

Keep it up.

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Blacksheep
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Re: 'They Call Me Crazy'
« Reply #2 on Jun 23, 2012, 4:06pm »

Thanks for the heads up, care to point it out? I rarely write when I'm not exhausted. And my writing style can be cumbersome and ponderous sometimes, I'll admit. This is definitely a 'tinfoil hat' story, though I didn't want to make it seem like I was pushing any sort of agenda. Do I think any of this is possible? Absolutely not.

Thanks again, I'll keep going since I have some feedback. I'll have more up in a few days. Apologies for the rather abrupt end, though. I'll add a little onto the first post to polish off the first section and jump into the next one once I have that organized. Right now it's just a mess of thoughts, considering there are so many ways I'd like to take the story.

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matov
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Re: 'They Call Me Crazy'
« Reply #3 on Jun 25, 2012, 1:00pm »

Jun 23, 2012, 4:06pm, Blacksheep wrote:

This is definitely a 'tinfoil hat' story, though I didn't want to make it seem like I was pushing any sort of agenda. Do I think any of this is possible? Absolutely not.

.

Nothing wrong with 'tinfoil hat material in fiction, especially PA. Thats the point, to explore extremes and then put them into a human context. Its when you start blaming the pesky Jews and so on in non-fiction writing that you need to take a lay down in a darkened room.

And I love the idea of the British Webley. Not really a gun nut but its an iconic image and the notion of people getting such weapons in the circumstances mentioned is good way of placing guns into the hands of characters who might not be the sort to obviously have an arsenal of weapons at their disposal.

In one of my earliest stabs at PA fiction I had my main character toting around an old German MP40 machine pistol that he gets given by a dieing neighbour who in turn had 'liberated' the weapon during his own adventures in WW2.

But I enjoyed it very much.

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terryd
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Re: 'They Call Me Crazy'
« Reply #4 on Jun 25, 2012, 10:31pm »

Nice work, Blacksheep. I'm a sucker for dystopian worlds, and I would definitely read more.

Don't let any suggestions slow you down now, but when you revise, take a look at your use of passive voice ("the board was jarred from its place," "it was carefully lifted") and make it active ("he jarred the board from its place," "he carefully lifted it").

Best success!

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Blacksheep
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Re: 'They Call Me Crazy'
« Reply #5 on Jul 8, 2012, 11:45am »

Thanks for the input, folks. Seeing as I have at least a few interested readers, I'll definitely continue pursuing this project. Next section should be up by the end of next week!

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