A Trial of Doorknobs
About two pages of bla bla.
This is a short story that is an example of what goes on inside my RP character Knives Alexander's head when he's trying to make a decision. He has three main aspects of his personalty.
Knives- the hot-headed general
Alex- the absent-minded though well-meaning poser punk he used to be
Worm- the living disease that's taken over his mind and soul.
Existence is a very fickle state. Some feared the end of it. Others feared it never occurred at all. This was something often pondered by those who’d seen what lay beyond- the ones that knew about the raw html of the world. Magic. The Afterlife. Innerspace. Worlds existed within worlds and so on unto infinity. One of these worlds spawned a peculiar fellow so he was one of the few who Knew. He didn’t like it very much.
He rather liked not thinking about it. Not thinking about Everything was one of his favorite past times in fact. One thing he didn’t know was even if he wasn’t thinking about it, parts of him still were. They were deeper still and had come into existence every since he set foot on Real soil.
Alexander was a piece of someone. He was a sad piece of someone because he stayed locked away in a basement all day until it was time to fight over what was going to be done. It was very dark in his room and the only light came from the barred window in his door. It had no glass so it was very drafty. He tried to stay in the little slats of light that shone on the floor because he wasn’t entirely sure what lurked in the corners. Sometimes things made noises.
He was a human. He may have only had nine fingers but that was how many he’d always had ever since he’d woken up in the basement. There had been Nothing before that. He had his very own brain and a set of eyes. That was something to be proud of! His glasses had been fixed with tape. Pock-scarred lips usually stayed pressed together least he make a sound. The things in the corners might hear. His teeth weren’t going to win him any prizes but he had most of them as well. Alex was very skinny. When the only thing around to eat just might eat you back, that tended to happen. Nobody had snazzy pants like his though or a vest that jingled when they moved.
Other than the things in the corners, jingling was really the only sound he got to hear. It was a good thing he was easy to entertain. He sighed through his nose and watched his window. A shape passed over it and Alex was plunged into darkness.
Squeak!
It was time to go again.
There was a great clattering as locks were undone and heavy objects were moved so that the thick iron door could be pulled open. Light spilled down rickety grated stairs that were covered with rust and looked like the light itself might be a little too heavy for them.
Alex shielded his eyes with an arm.
“C’mon then, little shit.” a snide, uninterested voice demanded from the top of the stairs. “Come say your piece so we can get on with the rest of our lives.” Footsteps carried them away and somewhere else a heavy door slammed.
Alex held his breath and scurried up the stairs. The hallway was wooden and devoid of visual interest. There were no windows and all doors had been boarded up. Naked bulbs dangled on wires from the ceiling and some were on their last legs. Faux lightning made his shadow fluctuate as he hurried to the far end of the hall. He refused to look back because he was sure whatever hid in the corners of the basement would always be peering around the door frame waiting on him to come back.
He’d drawn himself up and puffed out his scrawny chest. His hands became fists and the closer he got to the light at the end of the hall, the stiffer his gait became. Alex fought with his own body. He would not march.
“It’s about time!” snapped the voice that had beckoned him into the light.
The Court Room was not so much a room but a circle of broken machines and bodies that created walls and beyond the rubble were real walls so high he had no hope of ever climbing. They were made of grey brick. The sky wasn’t so much a sky but a stationary painting of stormy clouds with a peeling canvas. Light still came from somewhere though. He didn’t care nor wonder where. Alex walked to the center of the ring with his eyes cast down on the dirt until he reached the spot he always stood in. A neat little trail had been worn in the dirt to and from his cell.
He stood before an enormous podium that stretched so high that he could not see who was standing behind it. Alex liked it that way. Behind a much shorter podium next to the first, a bored and very irritated looking man sat with his chin on his fist.
Knives was a very pointy individual. His nose and chin were pointy along with the rest of his face. The man’s mouth had been replaced with a steel bear trap that moved accordingly with his words. Enormous claws that could envelop a man’s head with jointed blades for digits served for hands and one of them was drumming its fingertips on the edge of the desk. His glasses hadn’t needed to be repaired. A military uniform with a smart-looking cap covered him.
It was he who summoned Alex. “G’on then!” He sounded more like an old cockney crow trying to speak than a man.
Alex swallowed and kept his eyes on his boots. “I think...” he began.
“That’s a good one!” Knives burst into braying laughter and pounded a fist on his desk.
Alex shut his eyes in attempts to ignore him and continued. “I think removing the doorknobs is wrong.”
Knives drew in a long sniff and studied Alex before casting his gaze upwards. “Wot’dyew think, Worm?”
A booming voice came from the taller podium that one had to strain in order to understand. It was as if somebody were grinding a junkyard in a blender the size of an Olympic swimming pool. “WHY?”
“Well...” Alex wilted. That was the question he hated the most. It was the question Worm always asked and it was the one he never had an answer for. He didn’t know why. He just thought things. There was nothing inside or outside the walls that made him think the things he did. This was probably why he was constantly called an idiot.
“I AM WAITING.” said Worm. Ooze started to trickle down the front of his podium.
“You’re wasting our toim!” bellowed Knives.
“I just think we should- shouldn’t! Shouldn’t break things. It’s what I think...” A weak hopeful smile squirmed onto his face.
“Yew think! Yew think! This is ooll about Alex isn’t it? Everything’s olways about YEW.” Knives leaned over his podium and pointed at him with a long sharp finger. “Selfish is wot you are! Whiny and selfish!”
Alex shrank away with every word as if he were taking physical blows. “How about this! Every time we do the lights go out! You know what happens when the lights go out!” wailed the prisoner.
Knives refused to be phased by this. “It’s still your idea and in that, it is STEWPID.”
“I DO NOT LIKE THE DARK.” rumbled Worm.
“Exactly- wot?” Knives twisted his head birdishly and stared upwards where Worm supposedly was. A deep contemplative rumble came from above and Knives crossed his jaws irritably. His attention moved to the hopeful Alex. He hated him. He hated him with every metallic squirmy inch of his being. Knives didn’t know why, he just always had ever since the little snot woke up and started making all kinds of ungodly racket in the basement. He had to be right more than Alex did. He had to in order to live.
“I HAVE DECIDED.” said Worm. Both Alex and Knives stared upwards anxiously. “WE WILL CONTINUE TO BREAK THINGS.” Knives let out a whoop and held both fists in the air. “BUT NOT AS OFTEN.” The Nazi instantly deflated.
“Really?” Alex heaved a huge sigh of relief. It was very rare that he won anything, even if it was halfway. After the world turned upside down, it had been he who suggested stabbing random people in the face was not a good idea. He was on a roll!
“YES.” said Worm. “HOWEVER, YOU WILL RETURN TO THE BASEMENT. WE DON’T LIKE YOU.”
“May Oy, your honor?” Knives slithered out from behind his desk and moved towards Alex.
“YOU MAY.”
Alex didn’t care when Knives dug his sharp fingers into his shoulders and physically dragged him out of the Court Room and into the hallway. He smirked as the angry metal man yelled obscenities and threats at him. He did, however, yell when he was thrown down the stairs.
This was why the shop on OHAI St., Dagget Switch still had a front door.
This is a short story that is an example of what goes on inside my RP character Knives Alexander's head when he's trying to make a decision. He has three main aspects of his personalty.
Knives- the hot-headed general
Alex- the absent-minded though well-meaning poser punk he used to be
Worm- the living disease that's taken over his mind and soul.
Existence is a very fickle state. Some feared the end of it. Others feared it never occurred at all. This was something often pondered by those who’d seen what lay beyond- the ones that knew about the raw html of the world. Magic. The Afterlife. Innerspace. Worlds existed within worlds and so on unto infinity. One of these worlds spawned a peculiar fellow so he was one of the few who Knew. He didn’t like it very much.
He rather liked not thinking about it. Not thinking about Everything was one of his favorite past times in fact. One thing he didn’t know was even if he wasn’t thinking about it, parts of him still were. They were deeper still and had come into existence every since he set foot on Real soil.
Alexander was a piece of someone. He was a sad piece of someone because he stayed locked away in a basement all day until it was time to fight over what was going to be done. It was very dark in his room and the only light came from the barred window in his door. It had no glass so it was very drafty. He tried to stay in the little slats of light that shone on the floor because he wasn’t entirely sure what lurked in the corners. Sometimes things made noises.
He was a human. He may have only had nine fingers but that was how many he’d always had ever since he’d woken up in the basement. There had been Nothing before that. He had his very own brain and a set of eyes. That was something to be proud of! His glasses had been fixed with tape. Pock-scarred lips usually stayed pressed together least he make a sound. The things in the corners might hear. His teeth weren’t going to win him any prizes but he had most of them as well. Alex was very skinny. When the only thing around to eat just might eat you back, that tended to happen. Nobody had snazzy pants like his though or a vest that jingled when they moved.
Other than the things in the corners, jingling was really the only sound he got to hear. It was a good thing he was easy to entertain. He sighed through his nose and watched his window. A shape passed over it and Alex was plunged into darkness.
Squeak!
It was time to go again.
There was a great clattering as locks were undone and heavy objects were moved so that the thick iron door could be pulled open. Light spilled down rickety grated stairs that were covered with rust and looked like the light itself might be a little too heavy for them.
Alex shielded his eyes with an arm.
“C’mon then, little shit.” a snide, uninterested voice demanded from the top of the stairs. “Come say your piece so we can get on with the rest of our lives.” Footsteps carried them away and somewhere else a heavy door slammed.
Alex held his breath and scurried up the stairs. The hallway was wooden and devoid of visual interest. There were no windows and all doors had been boarded up. Naked bulbs dangled on wires from the ceiling and some were on their last legs. Faux lightning made his shadow fluctuate as he hurried to the far end of the hall. He refused to look back because he was sure whatever hid in the corners of the basement would always be peering around the door frame waiting on him to come back.
He’d drawn himself up and puffed out his scrawny chest. His hands became fists and the closer he got to the light at the end of the hall, the stiffer his gait became. Alex fought with his own body. He would not march.
“It’s about time!” snapped the voice that had beckoned him into the light.
The Court Room was not so much a room but a circle of broken machines and bodies that created walls and beyond the rubble were real walls so high he had no hope of ever climbing. They were made of grey brick. The sky wasn’t so much a sky but a stationary painting of stormy clouds with a peeling canvas. Light still came from somewhere though. He didn’t care nor wonder where. Alex walked to the center of the ring with his eyes cast down on the dirt until he reached the spot he always stood in. A neat little trail had been worn in the dirt to and from his cell.
He stood before an enormous podium that stretched so high that he could not see who was standing behind it. Alex liked it that way. Behind a much shorter podium next to the first, a bored and very irritated looking man sat with his chin on his fist.
Knives was a very pointy individual. His nose and chin were pointy along with the rest of his face. The man’s mouth had been replaced with a steel bear trap that moved accordingly with his words. Enormous claws that could envelop a man’s head with jointed blades for digits served for hands and one of them was drumming its fingertips on the edge of the desk. His glasses hadn’t needed to be repaired. A military uniform with a smart-looking cap covered him.
It was he who summoned Alex. “G’on then!” He sounded more like an old cockney crow trying to speak than a man.
Alex swallowed and kept his eyes on his boots. “I think...” he began.
“That’s a good one!” Knives burst into braying laughter and pounded a fist on his desk.
Alex shut his eyes in attempts to ignore him and continued. “I think removing the doorknobs is wrong.”
Knives drew in a long sniff and studied Alex before casting his gaze upwards. “Wot’dyew think, Worm?”
A booming voice came from the taller podium that one had to strain in order to understand. It was as if somebody were grinding a junkyard in a blender the size of an Olympic swimming pool. “WHY?”
“Well...” Alex wilted. That was the question he hated the most. It was the question Worm always asked and it was the one he never had an answer for. He didn’t know why. He just thought things. There was nothing inside or outside the walls that made him think the things he did. This was probably why he was constantly called an idiot.
“I AM WAITING.” said Worm. Ooze started to trickle down the front of his podium.
“You’re wasting our toim!” bellowed Knives.
“I just think we should- shouldn’t! Shouldn’t break things. It’s what I think...” A weak hopeful smile squirmed onto his face.
“Yew think! Yew think! This is ooll about Alex isn’t it? Everything’s olways about YEW.” Knives leaned over his podium and pointed at him with a long sharp finger. “Selfish is wot you are! Whiny and selfish!”
Alex shrank away with every word as if he were taking physical blows. “How about this! Every time we do the lights go out! You know what happens when the lights go out!” wailed the prisoner.
Knives refused to be phased by this. “It’s still your idea and in that, it is STEWPID.”
“I DO NOT LIKE THE DARK.” rumbled Worm.
“Exactly- wot?” Knives twisted his head birdishly and stared upwards where Worm supposedly was. A deep contemplative rumble came from above and Knives crossed his jaws irritably. His attention moved to the hopeful Alex. He hated him. He hated him with every metallic squirmy inch of his being. Knives didn’t know why, he just always had ever since the little snot woke up and started making all kinds of ungodly racket in the basement. He had to be right more than Alex did. He had to in order to live.
“I HAVE DECIDED.” said Worm. Both Alex and Knives stared upwards anxiously. “WE WILL CONTINUE TO BREAK THINGS.” Knives let out a whoop and held both fists in the air. “BUT NOT AS OFTEN.” The Nazi instantly deflated.
“Really?” Alex heaved a huge sigh of relief. It was very rare that he won anything, even if it was halfway. After the world turned upside down, it had been he who suggested stabbing random people in the face was not a good idea. He was on a roll!
“YES.” said Worm. “HOWEVER, YOU WILL RETURN TO THE BASEMENT. WE DON’T LIKE YOU.”
“May Oy, your honor?” Knives slithered out from behind his desk and moved towards Alex.
“YOU MAY.”
Alex didn’t care when Knives dug his sharp fingers into his shoulders and physically dragged him out of the Court Room and into the hallway. He smirked as the angry metal man yelled obscenities and threats at him. He did, however, yell when he was thrown down the stairs.
This was why the shop on OHAI St., Dagget Switch still had a front door.