The Quest for More Hearts

I recently created a new story for my Creative Writing class, the objective given was to observe someone in a public setting and write a fictional story on something that happened to them based on what I saw.

I saw a skinny, pale man asking any and all questions to a girl controlling the front counter. It was pretty obvious to me that he was nervously trying to find excuses to talk to this girl, and he was enamored with what she represented to him. Since I see this type of thing all the time, when people try “flirting” with people, this presented more of an opportunity for a story. For the sake of this story I’ll call him Fox, since he was wearing a Starfox shirt (for those of you who don’t know Starfox is a videogame character.)

The Quest for More Hearts

By Dustin Anderson

Fox sat outside of Gamestop in his 1995 Honda Accord, and looked in the window at the girl who filled his nightly dreams. She wore a black polo representing her company’s logo, a lanyard with her name on it, and a pair of khaki’s. Her short purple hair perfectly sculpted the shape of her face and ended at her jawline, making her pale white skin become more vibrant in the soft florescent light. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, and sighed as his confidence for asking her out slowly diminished. His pale cheeks were covered in acne or acne scars, and his long hair did little to distract people from this extremely irritating condition. He blew his breath into his hand and took a big sniff, trying to see if it would offend her. A putrid stench of Mountain dew and Taco Bell hit him, but since he was used to this smell he didn’t think anything of it. He looked at his clothing to see if it was up to his usually standards, the purple Starfox shirt and grey shorts were par for the course as far as his usual affairs go. He exhaled sharply as his nerves mounted a revolt against the actions his mind was concocting. Today was the day, today was the day he finally asked her out, but how should he go about it. “I am just some hopeless nerd, one of hundreds she sees every day” he said to himself, highly overestimating the Gamestop foot traffic. “How do I do this?” his brain answered for him as a videogame inspired Heads Up Display (or HUD) came up in his imagination. The HUD pointed him towards the door of Gamestop, he took the directive and got out of his car.

            As he passed the threshold of the door and heard the ding-dong welcome of the store, a tiny chime went off on his head as his first objective was completed. He smiled to himself when the next objective was displayed for him and read, “casually go up to the front desk, in front of the female store clerk.” He walked briskly to the front counter and an alarm went off in his HUD. The objective text he looked at bolded the word CASUALLY, and he quickly diverted his path to the POP figures on his left. He looked at the figures trying to make it seem like he wasn’t trying to not look at the female clerk.  He put the figure down and strolled towards the Nintendo section picking up a copy of the new Starfox game. Even though he hadn’t had the money to get the new Nintendo system it was released on, his HUD blipped with a suggestion box saying “CONVERSATION PIECE” in bold letters. He took the game up to the front counter, making sure to stand in front of the girl instead of her male counterpart who was scanning items into their computer. The male counterpart looked at Fox as he waited for the girl to take notice of him, and warning bells went off from his HUD. Fox quickly averted his eyes back to his objective. The male clerk was about to say something until the girl clerk spoke up.
“Checking out?”
Conversation prompts came up in Fox’s HUD for him to choose from, they read:

1)    “Yes, please!”

2)    “Oh yeah I am” with a command prompt to wink at the end

3)    “Yes, do you have any information on any new Starfox games?”

Fox chose the 3^rd prompt.
“Oh, let me check that for you.” She said and smiled as her fingers raced across the keyboard.
While she checks, more conversation prompts appear for him to choose from.

1)    “So do you like Starfox?”

2)    “How’s your day going?”

3)    “Have you gotten the new Starfox game?”

Being a bit nervous, even with his subconscious trying to help, he choose option 2, and she responds, “Oh, it’s fine. Just a lazy Sunday afternoon. You”

1)    “Pretty good.”

2)    “Better now that I’ve seen you.” Another prompt to wink at the end.

3)    “Good, now that I finally got that game.”

He chooses option 3, and she responds “You’re a big Starfox nut I take it,” eyeing his shirt.
This time he doesn’t need a prompt, he answers for himself. “Oh yeah, you like Starfox?”
She responds, “it never really took with me, but my boyfriend loves it.”

His imagination shuts down the simulation trying to aid him, and the transaction is completed with minimal conversation. She wishes him a good day, but he can’t comprehend how that would be possible since she just unknowingly broke his heart.  

Tendency

I was given an assignment for my Creative Writing class. To write a story about one of the following things in the third person "a man has lost his job, a fifty-year-old woman just found out that she is pregnant, a boy saw a ghost, a young girl just lost something that wasn't hers, a woman from another country has decided to move to another country for love." I chose the boy who saw a ghost, and I hope you enjoy. 

Tendency

By Dustin Anderson

“Mommy… Daddy... I can’t sleep.” A young boy stood in the archway of his parent’s room, his blonde hair bouncing off the soft light coming from his elder’s alarm clock. The light put a red hue on his favorite pair of Pokémon Jammies. He seemed anxious as he stood there waiting patiently for his parents response. There was an acrid smell wafting from the room and the boy noticed that only one of the parents seemed to be in the bed. He tried to see which of his parents were in their so he would know the type of caution to approach with. He couldn’t get a good look though since whoever it was wrapped themselves tightly with the covers. He tiptoed closer to the bed going into more detail about his predicament as he approached.

“Mommy… Daddy… there is someone watching me from my window, can I please sleep in here?”

He made it to the bed and noticed the alarm clock’s light bouncing off something wet underneath his parent. The red hue from the alarm clock made it hard to discern what type of substance it was so he called to whoever was under the covers again.

“Mommy… Daddy… Did you wet your bed?” He shook the form under the covers to no avail.

“Mommy… Daddy… Please wake up. The person outside my room is scaring me. Please wake up.” He shook more, and more, as the covers refused to release whatever spell they had over his parent. His shaking loosened something from under the covers, it fell to the ground with a noticeable metal clank.

It was a knife. Stained with the same liquid that covered the bed.

The boy looked up and saw the curly, brunette hair that belonged to his mother finally peeking out of the covers.  He held the knife in his hand confused, as the light came on to explain the scene. His father stood in the archway of the door, horror stuck by the sight in front of him. Blood covered his marital bed, and the murder weapon still in his son’s hand. He ran over to see the lifeless body of his wife, and turned to his son.

He struck the boy across the face with the backside of his hand. “What have you done? You little demon!” He struck his son again and shook him for an answer.

“Daddy!” He screamed through the shakes, “I don’t know what you are talking about!” The boy truly couldn’t comprehend the situation as his father kept shaking him. “What’s wrong with mommy? Why won’t she wake up?” His father furiously picked the boy up, and rushed them downstairs so he could call the police.

On their way down stairs they pass his sons room. The boy looks inside, at the window, as the person who was looking at him starts to wave. There was a deep cut mark on her wrist as she gave a depressing, melancholy wave towards the boy. He waved back at her as his father frantically dialed the phone.

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

I recently created this story for my creative writing lcass. Thee assignment was to create a story with a moral. I hope you enjoy.

Blood, sweat, and tears

By Dustin Anderson

                Debra looked at herself in the mirror as the cases from her long day swam through her thoughts. She had pulled another 15 hours work day, and didn’t think her brain could take anymore. Working as a state appointed attorney was supposed to be some sort of patriotic duty, but now it just seemed like she was going to become a martyr for the people she was defending. Martyrdom actually might be the only way that she could win a case for some of the people, since none of them are getting her full, undivided attention. Out of her fifteen hour day she was handed 17 cases to work, she touched base with all of the potential clients, and asked for a plea deal for all but three of them. These three seemed, to her, to be the least guilty. Out of those three, two of them were trial by jury and had a substantial amount of evidence brought against them at the last minute. She fought the evidence as not being registered before the trial, but it won’t make the jury forget about what they saw. She now had to go through the process of getting the case thrown out. The last one was just a kid who was hauled in for being an accomplice to a robbery. She actually got the kid off due to a lack of evidence but it still didn’t stop her from thinking of all the people who had to do some jail time, just because she didn’t have time to fight their cases.

                She stared at the water in her sink as it swirled down the drain, lost in her thoughts and regret, until she suddenly saw something red go down the drain with the water. She blinked and looked harder at the sink for a couple of minutes, but didn’t see anything. She must have imagined it, this lack of sleep was probably getting to her. She looked back up at the mirror and saw her bloodshot eyes staring back at her. These eyes were so easily tricked after a long day in the court room. As she was gauging her eyes she saw a red drop fly down into the sink, through the mirror. She looked at the sink again as she saw the running water wash it away. She looked up and saw a dark red puddle formed on the roof of her tiny bathroom. The puddle was small and only formed above the sink, it looked like blood. She slammed her back against the wall, scared of the recent discovery. The drip was slow, menacingly slow, as it seeped through the popcorn ceiling, trickled to the middle of the puddle, and the drop finally grew large enough for gravity to take hold and bring it down to the sink. She sat on the floor of her bathroom for some time, watching the slow drip continue, as her mind raced for a conclusion to its origin. Too scared to actually look into it, and too tired to think about it anymore she left it. She said to herself, “It’s probably an animal or something, I’ll call someone to look at it while I’m at work tomorrow.” She walked to her bed from the joined bathroom and fell like a brick from a high rise onto the soft mattress. It didn’t take her long to pass out, even though she was still rattled from the blood in her ceiling, her need to sleep was greater than her fear.

                She feel unconscious and dreamed of court cases. The people who she had represented, the people who she had failed to defend properly, flooded her mind. She was caught in a dark room with nothing but their faces to keep her company. The faces surrounded her and eventually rose above her. The faces looked down on her in judgement and began to cry. The tear drops fell on her, all around her, they soaked her from head to toe. She began to cry in the dream as she looked at her tear soaked body. In a flash those tears turned to blood, and she woke up in a start. Her face was buried in a pillow and looked at her clock. Two hours had passed since she fell asleep, she buried her head in her pillow to try and scream out her frustration from being woken up by a stupid dream, but was startled by something dropping on her head. She felt through her frizzy, auburn hair to find a wet spot. She looked at her hand to see blood covering it. She recoiled from the sight, and stood up out of her bed. She wasn’t bleeding, there was no pain to speak of, there was just a dark, red spot on her head.  As she looked at the blood on her hand she saw a drop of blood hit the spot where her head was. She looked up to find another pool of blood on her ceiling. She stepped back and began to grow curious. She went back to the spot from before. There was still a puddle of blood dripping into her sink. She began to get scared when all of a sudden she felt her phone vibrate. The sudden vibration caused her to jump against the wall, but she soon steeled herself and looked at her phone. A text message from an unknown source. She looked at the message. It told her to “look in the roof.” Another text followed it “Push the ceiling tile up and look in your roof.” Nervously she adhered to the demands of this stranger. She didn’t know why she did what it told her to. Maybe it was out of fear of some sort of repercussion. Maybe it was out of curiosity. She didn’t know but she did it anyways, in spite of herself.

                She stood on a small stool and looked in the roof. It was too dark for her to see anything but she smelled something that almost made her fall off the stool. Instead of falling she got off the stool and threw-up in her sink. She then gathered herself again, turned the light on from her cell phone, and went back into the roof. Her head poked up and she pointed the light from her phone in the direction of the blood puddle. She found a dead animal, the initial shock was lessened as her imagination built it up to be much worse. She recognized the animal somewhat, it wasn’t a rat, it almost looked like a ferret or a  weasel. She was very confused until the light from her phone caused something on the dead animal to shine. Her curiosity got the better of her again as she reached for the shiny object. She pulled it off the rodent and saw that it was a necklace with a cross pendant. She felt her phone vibrate again and this time the sudden shock did cause her to fall from the stool. She fell hard on to her back side, but the pain wasn’t enough to make her forget about the message alert she just received. She looked at it and it said “go to the other spot.” This time she gained the confidence to respond.

“No” she sent it and waited for a few minutes with no response.

“I refuse.” Another couple of minutes with no response.

“I’m calling the police.” She went to the dialing potion of her phone and suddenly got a vibration.

She read the response and turned white, “you’ll be dead before you can finish dialing.”

She looked around in a panic and yelled “show yourself!” she felt a vibration in response “go to the second spot. NOW!”

She quickly ran to her bed, which now had a puddle of blood covering the sheets, she threw the ceiling tile back and shined her phone light towards the puddle in the ceiling to find another dead weasel. The weasel had a picture attached to it, which she tore off in a rush. It was a picture of two young Hispanic boys. She recognized them, almost like she had seen them on a train or on the sidewalk in passing. This feeling was short lived as she felt a sharp, hot pain go through her stomach. She remained standing for a little while until she coughed up blood. She fell back against her bed with the picture in hand, and saw a large knife sticking out of her stomach. She began to scream but was quickly stopped by a leather-gloved hand covering her mouth. The man stared at her, and put his index finger against his lips to signify for her to be quiet. She did not comply as the pain was too great for her to remain calm. The man then grabbed a roll of duct tape from his pocket and secured a strip over her mouth. The woman began to grow hazy from the pain and stopped screaming. She noticed this man, clad entirely in black, as a slightly older version of one of the boys from the picture. He went to her hand and snatched the picture from it. He held it in front of her face and she was barely able to make out what he was saying through the throbbing in her ears.

“You remember this man,” he said pointing to the man who obviously wasn’t him “Alejandro González. Do you remember him?” She faintly shook her head from side to side. “Didn’t think so. Two years ago he went to trial for manslaughter. You told him to plea. He was sentenced to 25 years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit.” She mumbled something through the tape that almost resembled an apology. “I don’t care what you have to say, I just thought you should know the reason you are dying.” She felt a quick pain in her stomach followed by a slash across her throat as darkness consumed her vision.

The man wiped his knife on her bed and left her house. He walked down her street to get to the car he parked a mile away but he lost the feeling to his legs and kneeled down. Tears covered his vision as he cried on an empty street in the sleepy neighborhood. He looked towards the sky for forgiveness as continued to cry on the abandoned sidewalk. 

A Matter of Health

I recently wrote a short story for my creative writing class. The assignment was to write a story that involved two people fighting over an object, let the object take symbolic signaficance. It may have the same meaning for both people or different. I hope you enjoy it. 

A Matter of Health

By Dustin Anderson

                Tom sat on the couch in his living room watching his girlfriend, Harley, play videogames. Tom and Harley had been going out in an excess of three months and things were getting to a breaking point for him. Three whole months and the most they had done is hand stuff under the covers. Tom looked at Harley, as her thumbs flew nimbly over the game controller, he looked at her in a way only someone as in love as he was could ever look at her. She was a beautiful, blonde, short girl who loved video games and all the other pop culture things that he loved. He had often thought that Harley was way out of his league, so he didn’t want to try fate’s hand by asking for sex. He just wondered if the time would ever come that she would grace him with such a blessing. Harley stared back at him and smiled. She paused her game and as if reading her boyfriend’s mind said, “want to go into the bedroom and watch something?” Tom was stricken by this comment. It couldn’t be the reason he was thinking about, she was probably being nice and thinking about something they could do together. He smiled and nodded in agreement back to her, they then left the living room to go to his bedroom. On this short trip, Tom thought about this more clearly. “She wouldn’t ask me to go into the bedroom just to watch some random show on Netflix when we could do the same thing in the living room,” Tom thought to himself. “No, this is definitely the time I should make my move. Instead of offering it, she is putting the ball in Tom’s court now. As soon as we get in that room I’m going to throw her on to the bed and give her exactly what she wants.”

                The door to Tom’s room opens and as it does Tom looks at his girlfriend as she sits down. He sits next to her, his heart racing a mile a minute, as his brain yells at him for chickening out. She scans through the selections on Netflix and Tom thinks of the right time for a second shot. She turns towards him to ask a question and is met with Tom kissing her. She rolls her eyes and moans a faint sigh of relief. As the two get more and more intimate they start to take things further than they have ever gone as both start undressing and Tom hears a sentence that he has been waiting to hear for some time now. “Do you have a condom?” Harley says in a breathy, erratic way, taking off her final articles of clothing. Although Tom had been waiting to hear these words for some time now, he was completely unprepared to respond with the right answer. He had no condoms anywhere in the house, he didn’t know when he would ever need them. His mind raced for a solution as one came through the front door of his 2 bedroom apartment. Jake, his roommate was home, from another one of his wild nights out on the town. “I’ll be right back?” Tom said as he left his girlfriend confused and naked on the bed. Tom jumped from his room wearing nothing but a towel, completely interrupting Jake, who was kissing a very tall muscular man from his nighttime adventure.

“Hello Tom?” Jake said inquisitively, “This is my roomm- STRAIGHT roommate Tom.”

Tom nodded to the mystery man, who nodded back.

“Jake you mind if I ask you something in private, please?” Tom said impatiently and Jake felt the urgency.

“Could you give us a minute darling? Apparently my roommate is struggling with something. I’ll be right in.” Jake gives his guest a deep kiss, as the guest leaves for Jake’s room. Jake’s guest almost goes in the wrong room but is stopped by Tom and led to the right one, eliminating a potentially embarrassing situation for Harley. “What is it Tom?” Jake said after closing the door making sure that his guest was securely out of earshot.

“I need a condom.” Tom cut to the point abruptly, knowing that Jake had one. Jake was the type of guy to remain very clean when going about town, he wouldn’t be caught dead club hopping without a rubber. He pulls a square shaped package marked “Trojan” from his pocket. In a rush, Tom grabs for the condom saying, “Thanks” before Jake yanks it away saying, “It’s my last one.” A painful silence fills the air.

“Come on man, it’s mine and Harley’s first time together.” Tom said pitifully.

“Aww good for you,” Jake says putting his hand on Tom’s shoulder in a congratulatory way, Tom smiles as he thinks he won the fight early, but Jake finishes, “It’s my first time with him as well.”

“Are you in a relationship with him?” Tom reasoned.

“Nope, but I could be by the end of this.” Jake fired back

 “Really? What’s his name?” Tom replied skepticism surrounding each syllable

“First name: Doesn’t, Last name: Matter”  

“Dude, what do you even have to worry about? He looks clean.”

“So do most needles but if I stuck a random one in your arm would you be ok with that?”

“How do you not have like a million of these if you’re that worried?”

“Fair enough. How do you not have at least one of these if you’re this hopeful?”

Tom sighed as he pulled out his last ditch effort, praying silently that this would work. “ok, Jake. What do you want your godchild to be named? I was thinking I would name him after you but-“ Jake put his hand up to cut his friend off as he rubbed the stress from his eyes. “Fine,” Jake said in a defeated voice. Tom thanked his friend quickly, and disappeared just as quickly as the words left his mouth. Jake entered his room and smiled a half-hearted smile at his guest who was already naked.

“Wanna’ watch Netflix?” he sighed.