Death over and over
Once upon a time in the not-too-distant future:
“RARE, RAGE AND BLOW, YOU CATARACTS AND HURRICANOES!”
I just wanted to say that out loud.
Looks like they are finally successful at blocking this site at my work, so less real ‘blog-like’ posts here (check the livejournal one for those) and instead, my practice at writing fiction here.
Below is the beginning of a story I began on a whim as Mr. Jam (at http://mrjam.typepad.com/ ) thought the idea of dying over and over again would make an interesting tale:
Death all over and over again (and over again)
She was born twenty seven years ago in the most peculiar, tragic manner. Her mother was on her way home from some function or other. Her uncle told her mother just came from a Tupperware party. Her aunt she just came from an affair with a married man that had just ended and was on her way to another. Her dad had no idea what she was doing out there. He left the family several months previous to fulfill his dream of going to clown college (in actuality, he had the opportunity to study under a famous French mime- is there any other kind? - and took that opportunity. In the years that followed, because of the close physical contact with his mentor he thought be was gay, but several years later decided he wasn’t. He now thinks he is again, but he is now living in Montreal doing what it is that trained mimes that do not live in France do. Although Canada is practically France, so who knows?)
Actually, her mother was not doing anything fun that day, she was just going home (on the bus, she wasn’t allowed to drive, being eight months pregnant) after a visit to the grocery store because she had cravings for cheese, various kinds of meat (the non-erotic kind, the kind they find on cows), broccoli and peanut butter. She had also picked up the latest Johnny Depp movie (who lives in France now, just like her ex). She had never had an affair with a married man, those were just rumors she started became bored with her life and wanted to spice things up without actually doing anything. She’s pretty indifferent about Tupperware.
She was thinking about her ex as she rode home on the bus. She was okay with him going to France to be a mime (she was the only one who knew the difference between a clown and a mime), mostly because she thought this would also be an opportunity for her to go to France too. She had never been out of the country, but he though she was being sarcastic, one thing led to another, yelling was done, there was make-up sex but he thought it was break up sex and the next day she woke up alone. He did hear from him a few days later, just to let her know he was okay.
She still thought about meeting with him after the baby was born, just to surprise him and introduce his kid to him. She harboured no ill feelings against him and still thought of him fondly. Her thoughts were beginning to drift to the meat being the erotic kind of meat when the passenger airliner fell from the air, slamming into the bus and leaving no survivors.
Except one, of course.
(The pilot of the plane had got his hands on some ganja from a stewardess who had gotten it from a minor celebrity who was in coach. The last thing the black box recorded was the pilot screaming, “Oh my god, why is that bus throwing itself unto the bus!? Dude, I am so…..”)
Her mother was seated towards the back of the bus and the flying shards of metal sliced her in half. They say she felt nothing as it happened so fast but she felt warm, although her thoughts were luckily not of pain as she was still thinking of the meat. The top half of her body was thrown clear of the bus and found two days later. Her lower half was protected by the seats and the bags of meat that she had bought and was relative unharmed (of course, you have to put into consideration that her top half was now missing).
An off duty fireman was behind the bus when all this happened. Being a brave idiot he rushed out amongst the flames and jet fuel to see if there was anything, anyone he could save. The smell of barbecue sickened him but he pushed forward, but then again, he realized, why does burning bodies smell like bratwurst?
Because it was bratwurst. The fireman walked towards the smell, strangely hungry and saw the bags of meat and the bottom half of an obviously pregnant woman.
Now, nobody now knows why he did the next couple of things. Shoving the bags of meat aside, he gently lowered the bottom half of an obviously pregnant woman down amidst the fires and jet fuel, whipped out his Swiss army knife, and took out her baby. He cut the umbilical cord, patted the baby’s back who spat out some fluid and started crying. The off duty fireman then slowly walked out of the debris, went back to his car still on the road with the baby wrapped up in his shirt and at which time the first emergency vehicles had started to arrive and proper care was given to the baby.
She became a minor celebrity for some time after that. Twenty seven years later, she still gets remarks from strangers who recognize her name, Ashleigh Lee Montenegro (Lee after the off duty fireman, Ashleigh from her mother) just like some people still gawked at Baby Jessica years after she fell down that stupid pipe.
She should have died that day. Every expert told her that. She knew it too, and it depressed her to no end.
Because nowadays, every time she died again, accidental or otherwise, she would be dead for a day or two, then come, inexplicably, back to life.
The following are the comments derived from the story:
Posted by: Because Nury was going to write the story, Catterpillarboy did a draft of the first chapter | Thursday, 17 May 2007 at 11:02 PM
OMG! I would hate to have the dreams you obviously have.....
Posted by: Jan | Friday, 18 May 2007 at 09:46 AM
Wow, Caterpillerboy, you are definitely showing your dark side these days!.
I think I prefer the story the original way, as in your first email. The above is too gruesome.
Here's an alternative story, based on the same idea (dying twice).
**
Anita Lemonick raised the dead, nine to five. That was her job.
Except it was usually ten pm to six am, as she preferred the night shift. She was a doctor who specialized in using heart defibrillators.
After returning life to her 73rd patient of the year, she went to the hospital canteen to get some coffee. It was three o'clock in the morning.
Leafing through a magazine that someone had left on the table, she discovered an article about a group of people who had diced with death. They had all briefly died and glimpsed the "white light" that led to heaven. They swapped notes about what the afterlife was like. She recognized the name of one of her own patients in the article.
She suddenly realized that in her hands she held the talent to fulfill their wishes. Their members could die, glimpse heaven, and then she could bring them back.
She could see it now: "Tours of the afterlife: roll up."
She tore out the page and stuffed into her pocket, determining to contact the group when morning came...
[volunteers, please continue the story...]
Posted by: Nury | Friday, 18 May 2007 at 10:39 AM
________________________________________________________________________
Where else I can be found:
http://www.myspace.com/catterpillarboy
See all my amazing friends! Beware of inside jokes that no one, even my friends will get!
http://catterpillarboy.blogspot.com/
Possibly maybe stories and projects that I am working on
http://catterpillarboy.livejournal.com
This will probably be the most updated one with all of my thoughts, feelings, book and movie reviews and other random stuff.http://www.goth-girls-nude.com/ - not safe for work…see I told you so!
“RARE, RAGE AND BLOW, YOU CATARACTS AND HURRICANOES!”
I just wanted to say that out loud.
Looks like they are finally successful at blocking this site at my work, so less real ‘blog-like’ posts here (check the livejournal one for those) and instead, my practice at writing fiction here.
Below is the beginning of a story I began on a whim as Mr. Jam (at http://mrjam.typepad.com/ ) thought the idea of dying over and over again would make an interesting tale:
Death all over and over again (and over again)
She was born twenty seven years ago in the most peculiar, tragic manner. Her mother was on her way home from some function or other. Her uncle told her mother just came from a Tupperware party. Her aunt she just came from an affair with a married man that had just ended and was on her way to another. Her dad had no idea what she was doing out there. He left the family several months previous to fulfill his dream of going to clown college (in actuality, he had the opportunity to study under a famous French mime- is there any other kind? - and took that opportunity. In the years that followed, because of the close physical contact with his mentor he thought be was gay, but several years later decided he wasn’t. He now thinks he is again, but he is now living in Montreal doing what it is that trained mimes that do not live in France do. Although Canada is practically France, so who knows?)
Actually, her mother was not doing anything fun that day, she was just going home (on the bus, she wasn’t allowed to drive, being eight months pregnant) after a visit to the grocery store because she had cravings for cheese, various kinds of meat (the non-erotic kind, the kind they find on cows), broccoli and peanut butter. She had also picked up the latest Johnny Depp movie (who lives in France now, just like her ex). She had never had an affair with a married man, those were just rumors she started became bored with her life and wanted to spice things up without actually doing anything. She’s pretty indifferent about Tupperware.
She was thinking about her ex as she rode home on the bus. She was okay with him going to France to be a mime (she was the only one who knew the difference between a clown and a mime), mostly because she thought this would also be an opportunity for her to go to France too. She had never been out of the country, but he though she was being sarcastic, one thing led to another, yelling was done, there was make-up sex but he thought it was break up sex and the next day she woke up alone. He did hear from him a few days later, just to let her know he was okay.
She still thought about meeting with him after the baby was born, just to surprise him and introduce his kid to him. She harboured no ill feelings against him and still thought of him fondly. Her thoughts were beginning to drift to the meat being the erotic kind of meat when the passenger airliner fell from the air, slamming into the bus and leaving no survivors.
Except one, of course.
(The pilot of the plane had got his hands on some ganja from a stewardess who had gotten it from a minor celebrity who was in coach. The last thing the black box recorded was the pilot screaming, “Oh my god, why is that bus throwing itself unto the bus!? Dude, I am so…..”)
Her mother was seated towards the back of the bus and the flying shards of metal sliced her in half. They say she felt nothing as it happened so fast but she felt warm, although her thoughts were luckily not of pain as she was still thinking of the meat. The top half of her body was thrown clear of the bus and found two days later. Her lower half was protected by the seats and the bags of meat that she had bought and was relative unharmed (of course, you have to put into consideration that her top half was now missing).
An off duty fireman was behind the bus when all this happened. Being a brave idiot he rushed out amongst the flames and jet fuel to see if there was anything, anyone he could save. The smell of barbecue sickened him but he pushed forward, but then again, he realized, why does burning bodies smell like bratwurst?
Because it was bratwurst. The fireman walked towards the smell, strangely hungry and saw the bags of meat and the bottom half of an obviously pregnant woman.
Now, nobody now knows why he did the next couple of things. Shoving the bags of meat aside, he gently lowered the bottom half of an obviously pregnant woman down amidst the fires and jet fuel, whipped out his Swiss army knife, and took out her baby. He cut the umbilical cord, patted the baby’s back who spat out some fluid and started crying. The off duty fireman then slowly walked out of the debris, went back to his car still on the road with the baby wrapped up in his shirt and at which time the first emergency vehicles had started to arrive and proper care was given to the baby.
She became a minor celebrity for some time after that. Twenty seven years later, she still gets remarks from strangers who recognize her name, Ashleigh Lee Montenegro (Lee after the off duty fireman, Ashleigh from her mother) just like some people still gawked at Baby Jessica years after she fell down that stupid pipe.
She should have died that day. Every expert told her that. She knew it too, and it depressed her to no end.
Because nowadays, every time she died again, accidental or otherwise, she would be dead for a day or two, then come, inexplicably, back to life.
The following are the comments derived from the story:
Posted by: Because Nury was going to write the story, Catterpillarboy did a draft of the first chapter | Thursday, 17 May 2007 at 11:02 PM
OMG! I would hate to have the dreams you obviously have.....
Posted by: Jan | Friday, 18 May 2007 at 09:46 AM
Wow, Caterpillerboy, you are definitely showing your dark side these days!.
I think I prefer the story the original way, as in your first email. The above is too gruesome.
Here's an alternative story, based on the same idea (dying twice).
**
Anita Lemonick raised the dead, nine to five. That was her job.
Except it was usually ten pm to six am, as she preferred the night shift. She was a doctor who specialized in using heart defibrillators.
After returning life to her 73rd patient of the year, she went to the hospital canteen to get some coffee. It was three o'clock in the morning.
Leafing through a magazine that someone had left on the table, she discovered an article about a group of people who had diced with death. They had all briefly died and glimpsed the "white light" that led to heaven. They swapped notes about what the afterlife was like. She recognized the name of one of her own patients in the article.
She suddenly realized that in her hands she held the talent to fulfill their wishes. Their members could die, glimpse heaven, and then she could bring them back.
She could see it now: "Tours of the afterlife: roll up."
She tore out the page and stuffed into her pocket, determining to contact the group when morning came...
[volunteers, please continue the story...]
Posted by: Nury | Friday, 18 May 2007 at 10:39 AM
________________________________________________________________________
Where else I can be found:
http://www.myspace.com/catterpillarboy
See all my amazing friends! Beware of inside jokes that no one, even my friends will get!
http://catterpillarboy.blogspot.com/
Possibly maybe stories and projects that I am working on
http://catterpillarboy.livejournal.com
This will probably be the most updated one with all of my thoughts, feelings, book and movie reviews and other random stuff.http://www.goth-girls-nude.com/ - not safe for work…see I told you so!
posted by Catterpillarboy at 4:32 AM
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