NaNo things
The following is about 2 pages from my current NaNo project. Hopefully it will make sense out of context.
“You do understand why it is that I don't believe you exist, right?” Ken asked around a mouthful of cold Chinese food. He did not wait for a response, just jabbed his soy sauce stained chopsticks in her direction and continued. “I'm a nerd, right? A geek, a gamer, a basement-dwelling squib- whatever you want to call it. It all comes down to the same thing. We play these games and we watch our shows and we think 'oh man, what I wouldn't give for this to be real.' But it never is. You follow me?”
“I don't think I do, squib,” Elle muttered and popped her head through his bed to hover her mouth over the plate of pot stickers. She opened her mouth and moved forward, then closed it again. The dumpling disappeared from his sight, but he knew the second she moved, the illusion would be broken.
“The second a nerd gets caught up in his fantasies and believes that something strange that's happening to him is real? That's when he finds out he's crazy. 'Beam me up Scotty' and all that. If you don't separate yourself from the fantasy, you get in trouble.”
“Sounds like you've watched one too many episodes of the Twilight Zone to me,” Elle drawled, sinking back to lay across his bedspread.
“I'm serious here. If you met a guy who claimed to have fought an elf- a real elf- what would you think of that guy?” He stabbed the pot sticker with one chopstick and hoisted it into his mouth as he waited for her answer.
“I suppose I would think he was lying. Or crazy,” she yawned.
“Exactly! Which is why I can't acknowledge that you're a ghost. Ghosts aren't real.”
“But I am real. I'm right here. I'm talking to you.”
“I can see that. I can hear that. Both of these things, however, can only be done when I am too tired to move. You could easily be a figment of my imagination.”
“Honey, please. You could not even imagine someone like me. Have you ever even talked to a girl?”
“Oh ha ha.” Ken rolled his eyes.
“Alright- but in all seriousness. Am I the kind of thing you normally imagine?”
“You're a hell of a lot meaner.”
“Not mean. I just call you out on your shit.”
“Can't say that I'm used to that.”
“There you go. I am a unique entity. I am not some strange fantasy you're having. I am a ghost.”
“No, no. We haven't proved anything yet. You could be my subconscious mind coming to the forefront in an attempt to get my shit straightened out.”
“What the hell makes you think that?”
“Well, you're trying to make me game less.”
“I suggested that maybe you could make some more friends if you weren't such a basement-dwelling squib.”
“And urged me to exercise more.”
“That is good for you. It's common sense.”
“So, here I am, a lonely nerd wallowing in my fatness as I sob into my jar of twinkies. One night, I come out of a hardcore game and there you are. Floating around in your fit glory, trying to get me to be less of a lonely loser and lose some weight.” Ken eyed her as if waiting for her protest. Elle scoffed.
“Not even close, Ken my boy. Hit me again.”
“Okay. Well. You seem to know everything about my day- therefore you're part of my mind.”
“I know everything about your day because I wander around following you.” He shot her a look and she added a hasty, “I get bored, okay?”
“A likely story. The kind I could have thought up myself.” He tapped his temples knowingly, then cursed as he realized he'd smeared teriyaki in his hair. She laughed as he attempted to wipe it out.
“Alright. Here's a story you don't know. I'm a ghost girl, wandering around the city. When I first realized I was dead, I thought 'Oh boy! No gravity, no limits! I can float! Hell, I can fly!'
Then I realized that there was no joy in it. No challenge. There's no risk, I can't feel the pavement underfoot. No bruises or scrapes. I have to make a conscious effort not to float through things.
I can't even haunt anyone. No waving around pots and pans or flicking light switches on and off for me. It blows.
To top it off, no one can see me. Not my friends. Not my family. Believe me, I tried. And once I realized that it was hopeless, I went off in search of a stranger that could see me. I tried mediums and psychics but it just didn't work. I'm invisible.
So I wandered through people's houses, watching reruns of MASH and catching the latest gossip. Don't ask me why I decided to stick around here, squib. Maybe it was the fact that I've never seen anyone that intense while behind a computer before. But when you saw me that first time, shit. I think my heart started beating again just so it could stop.” Elle performed a handstand on the edge of his bed and slowly sank through it. Ken couldn't fathom a response at first. Although she was putting on a bold fact about it all, it was fairly obvious that the situation distressed her.
“Alright... admittedly, your story isn't something I ever suspected.” He said carefully.
“You're damn right it isn't,” her voice was not muffled by the bed but came and went as if she remained standing in front of him. He allowed himself a wince, knowing she could not see it.
“Unfortunately, it's still something I might have thought of.”
“Bullshit!” she lunged out of the bed to hover a few inches in front of his face. Her expression was twisted in anger. It was not the first time she had switched emotions so quickly, but it was shocking nonetheless. “Bullshit it is.”
“Can't you give me some kind of... insight into the afterlife? Have you seen any other ghosts? Did you learn the meaning of life?” His hands flew up in an attempt to placate her. He knew the second the words left his mouth that it was the entirely wrong thing to say. Immediately, she leaned in close enough that had she been alive, she would most certainly be breathing in his face. He hallucinated her spit against his cheek and her hands passed through his chest in an attempt to grab his clothes.
“Do you think if I'd learned the meaning of life I would be here? Let me tell you about the afterlife. You wake up in the ground, flip the fuck out because you're so obviously in a coffin, you float through it and then spend the rest of your meaningless existence talking to basement-dwelling squibs who won't believe that you're not a figment of their imagination!” her skin went ruddy with passionate anger. “You know what? Talking to you is not even worth it. I'll take the solitude. Maybe I'll go take a walk in a pond and watch some fish or something.” She stormed through the wall.
Ken darted after her, banging his wrist into the concrete when he reached for her arm. He swore and clutched his injured extremity close to his body. “Elle! Come back! I didn't mean it. Not like that! I'm sorry. Elle?” he touched the cold stone but received no response.
“Fuck.” He sighed and flopped back on the bed. The possibility that Elle was, in fact, something that he'd made up to stave off loneliness seemed to be dwindling. Imaginary friends do not get mad and walk away, right? Would a manifestation of his subconscious make him feel guilty for not acknowledging it as reality? That didn't seem like a productive thing for it to do at all. Unless he was going crazy at last.
With a sigh, he set his gravy-laden Chinese food boxes on the floor and tossed and turned until his alarm went off.
“You do understand why it is that I don't believe you exist, right?” Ken asked around a mouthful of cold Chinese food. He did not wait for a response, just jabbed his soy sauce stained chopsticks in her direction and continued. “I'm a nerd, right? A geek, a gamer, a basement-dwelling squib- whatever you want to call it. It all comes down to the same thing. We play these games and we watch our shows and we think 'oh man, what I wouldn't give for this to be real.' But it never is. You follow me?”
“I don't think I do, squib,” Elle muttered and popped her head through his bed to hover her mouth over the plate of pot stickers. She opened her mouth and moved forward, then closed it again. The dumpling disappeared from his sight, but he knew the second she moved, the illusion would be broken.
“The second a nerd gets caught up in his fantasies and believes that something strange that's happening to him is real? That's when he finds out he's crazy. 'Beam me up Scotty' and all that. If you don't separate yourself from the fantasy, you get in trouble.”
“Sounds like you've watched one too many episodes of the Twilight Zone to me,” Elle drawled, sinking back to lay across his bedspread.
“I'm serious here. If you met a guy who claimed to have fought an elf- a real elf- what would you think of that guy?” He stabbed the pot sticker with one chopstick and hoisted it into his mouth as he waited for her answer.
“I suppose I would think he was lying. Or crazy,” she yawned.
“Exactly! Which is why I can't acknowledge that you're a ghost. Ghosts aren't real.”
“But I am real. I'm right here. I'm talking to you.”
“I can see that. I can hear that. Both of these things, however, can only be done when I am too tired to move. You could easily be a figment of my imagination.”
“Honey, please. You could not even imagine someone like me. Have you ever even talked to a girl?”
“Oh ha ha.” Ken rolled his eyes.
“Alright- but in all seriousness. Am I the kind of thing you normally imagine?”
“You're a hell of a lot meaner.”
“Not mean. I just call you out on your shit.”
“Can't say that I'm used to that.”
“There you go. I am a unique entity. I am not some strange fantasy you're having. I am a ghost.”
“No, no. We haven't proved anything yet. You could be my subconscious mind coming to the forefront in an attempt to get my shit straightened out.”
“What the hell makes you think that?”
“Well, you're trying to make me game less.”
“I suggested that maybe you could make some more friends if you weren't such a basement-dwelling squib.”
“And urged me to exercise more.”
“That is good for you. It's common sense.”
“So, here I am, a lonely nerd wallowing in my fatness as I sob into my jar of twinkies. One night, I come out of a hardcore game and there you are. Floating around in your fit glory, trying to get me to be less of a lonely loser and lose some weight.” Ken eyed her as if waiting for her protest. Elle scoffed.
“Not even close, Ken my boy. Hit me again.”
“Okay. Well. You seem to know everything about my day- therefore you're part of my mind.”
“I know everything about your day because I wander around following you.” He shot her a look and she added a hasty, “I get bored, okay?”
“A likely story. The kind I could have thought up myself.” He tapped his temples knowingly, then cursed as he realized he'd smeared teriyaki in his hair. She laughed as he attempted to wipe it out.
“Alright. Here's a story you don't know. I'm a ghost girl, wandering around the city. When I first realized I was dead, I thought 'Oh boy! No gravity, no limits! I can float! Hell, I can fly!'
Then I realized that there was no joy in it. No challenge. There's no risk, I can't feel the pavement underfoot. No bruises or scrapes. I have to make a conscious effort not to float through things.
I can't even haunt anyone. No waving around pots and pans or flicking light switches on and off for me. It blows.
To top it off, no one can see me. Not my friends. Not my family. Believe me, I tried. And once I realized that it was hopeless, I went off in search of a stranger that could see me. I tried mediums and psychics but it just didn't work. I'm invisible.
So I wandered through people's houses, watching reruns of MASH and catching the latest gossip. Don't ask me why I decided to stick around here, squib. Maybe it was the fact that I've never seen anyone that intense while behind a computer before. But when you saw me that first time, shit. I think my heart started beating again just so it could stop.” Elle performed a handstand on the edge of his bed and slowly sank through it. Ken couldn't fathom a response at first. Although she was putting on a bold fact about it all, it was fairly obvious that the situation distressed her.
“Alright... admittedly, your story isn't something I ever suspected.” He said carefully.
“You're damn right it isn't,” her voice was not muffled by the bed but came and went as if she remained standing in front of him. He allowed himself a wince, knowing she could not see it.
“Unfortunately, it's still something I might have thought of.”
“Bullshit!” she lunged out of the bed to hover a few inches in front of his face. Her expression was twisted in anger. It was not the first time she had switched emotions so quickly, but it was shocking nonetheless. “Bullshit it is.”
“Can't you give me some kind of... insight into the afterlife? Have you seen any other ghosts? Did you learn the meaning of life?” His hands flew up in an attempt to placate her. He knew the second the words left his mouth that it was the entirely wrong thing to say. Immediately, she leaned in close enough that had she been alive, she would most certainly be breathing in his face. He hallucinated her spit against his cheek and her hands passed through his chest in an attempt to grab his clothes.
“Do you think if I'd learned the meaning of life I would be here? Let me tell you about the afterlife. You wake up in the ground, flip the fuck out because you're so obviously in a coffin, you float through it and then spend the rest of your meaningless existence talking to basement-dwelling squibs who won't believe that you're not a figment of their imagination!” her skin went ruddy with passionate anger. “You know what? Talking to you is not even worth it. I'll take the solitude. Maybe I'll go take a walk in a pond and watch some fish or something.” She stormed through the wall.
Ken darted after her, banging his wrist into the concrete when he reached for her arm. He swore and clutched his injured extremity close to his body. “Elle! Come back! I didn't mean it. Not like that! I'm sorry. Elle?” he touched the cold stone but received no response.
“Fuck.” He sighed and flopped back on the bed. The possibility that Elle was, in fact, something that he'd made up to stave off loneliness seemed to be dwindling. Imaginary friends do not get mad and walk away, right? Would a manifestation of his subconscious make him feel guilty for not acknowledging it as reality? That didn't seem like a productive thing for it to do at all. Unless he was going crazy at last.
With a sigh, he set his gravy-laden Chinese food boxes on the floor and tossed and turned until his alarm went off.