17
Warning: This story has some dark tones and violent suggestions.
Present
Sitting on the top of a hill with the sun on his back, Steve stared almost blankly at the sky, lost in thought. Thinking about possible projects. Feeling a slight chill in the breeze, He snapped out of it, remembering the time. The sun was setting, he had more than enough time to get home, but he always started heading back earlier then necessary. He got up to leave, brushing off his paints and throwing his bag over his sholder, stopping for a moment to admire the view of his house, visible from the top of the hill; built into a cliff face. His watchtower seemingly cutting into the sky, light from the windows giving the porch a warm glow and the the sun shining onto the hill, giving it a golden glow aswell. He would of liked to stare at it for longer, Some might think of it as a bit narcissistic but he took great pride in his work. Although there was still a bit of a walk inbetween himself and home, so he had to leave the view and get moving. His route was simple. Down the hill, through a small forest, then up the hill his house was built on. Steve started down the hill, looking back up at his house from time to time until his view was obstructed by the tops of trees towards the bottom. The way down being smoother than the way up, he quickly made his way down the hill. Now facing the forest, looking rather peaceful as it usually did around that time of day, small dots of light where the sun managed to find a path through the leafs. This is where he had gotten most of the wood for his house and as such he'd made quite a few trails, He slowly went down one of his many paths, taking in the sights, knowing that he had the time. While he had been replanting trees as he cut them down, there was still about as many tree stumps as trees. He never bothered to dig them up, he felt accomplished looking at them, seeing the remnants of his work. Steve came out of the forest surprisingly fast, at last coming to the path up to his house. The path, cobblestone instead of gravel like in the forest, rose, dipped and turned going up the hill. Ending in a wooded staircase connecting the path to his porch. Due to how the hill was shaped, a steep slope right where his door was, his porch was level with the ground on one end and fifteen feet in the air on the other. Steve went up the path, about halfway up nearly triping over a rised step he'd been meaning to fix. Reaching the porch, he dropped his bag into a chair before walking over and leaning on the railing. It was almost a tradition for him, watching the sunset. After a few mintues though, the golded horizon started turning dark blue, the sounds of growling and bones clacking together seemed to drown out his own thoughts. The thought came to his mind to grab his bow and see if he could pick off a few distant mobs. He went over to the door, opening it just enough to lean in and pick up his bow, which was leaning against the wall just beside the doorway. He took it in one hand, shutting the door behind him with the other. Steve stopped by his bag on his way back to the railing, picking a few arrows out of his bag along with a bottle of water. He took a quick drink of water before setting the bottle down and pulling an arrow back. Taking aim at a zombie near the bottom of the hill. He held his breath to steady his aim and released the arrow. The arrow struck it in the middle of its forehead, sending its head wiping back as it fell it the ground. Right on target. Steve silently congratulated himself on the shot, grabing another arrow and setting his sights on another zombie getting a bit to close to the pathway up.
This was his life.
In a harsh world where most everything was out to kill him, he built a fortress. Against all odds he had survived. He had defeated the world. Sometimes he'd sit on top of his tower and look down at everything he'd done. His farm, his paths leading off to far away lights. Lights from his expansions; towers, mines and cabins.
But how did he end up like this?
As a child, steve was rather healthing, possibly due to his interests in outdoors activities such as camping and fishing. He knew a few kids, not really as friends but more of "familiar faces". He wasn't really talkative, though he could shake his shyness if someone had similar interests and could teach him something.
Age: ten
Steve sat in the dirt hunched over, rubbing two sticks together. Seeing a bit a smoke he leaned in closer. He quickly put the smoking stick on his pile of dry leafs and twigs, blowing lightly on the embers as he'd heard to do. The pile of twigs and leafs caught fire, Steve watched the flame in awe, his mouth hanging open in a smile. For the first time it actually worked. He threw a few more leafs onto it, keeping it alight while he searched for bigger sticks. Opon finding a few, he dropped them into the fire, creating a flury of embers as they hit the burning leafs. He sat watching the fire flicker, wave and pop for want felt to him like moments, but was really hours. Only snapping out of his thoughts when the fire needed more fuel. The uncomfortable feeling of hunger finally pulling him out of it completely. The fire now nothing but a small pile of ashs. Realizing how long it had been he jumped up, Holding back the sudden, powerful urge to scream. It had happened again! After a few weeks of peace it had come back! He looked around to see if anyone had seen him sitting there for so long. His daydreaming had come back. he had done it a few times before, zoning out for thirty minutes or so, this was the longest he'd ever done it. He didn't need to see a clock, he knew all to well that it had been much longer than before, and it terrified him. His mother had called it an "overactive imagination" and said that it meant he was creative. But he knew better. He wasn't just daydreaming, it wasn't that simple. It was something more then that, something more powerful. He had tried to figure it out before, but thinking about it to much just scared him more. Trying his best not to worry about it, he got up, checked that the fire was out and walked out of the trees and into his backyard.
Steve spent most of his childhood outside, learning a new way to start a fire or make something out of nothing. Later on in life, As he got older, steve had more responsibilities. He had gotten a job working construction; as it fit his interests. He still had his outdoor hobbies. He'd been spending more and more time on his hobbies, Taking up a few hunting tricks, even though he'd never gone hunting.Even learning how to make traps, aswell as a bit of tracking.
Age: twenty two
Steve was in the beginnings of a house, hanging drywall when he heard his name being called from outside. He laid down his drill and left the soon-to-be bedroom, heading down the hallway. Going though the empty wall frames towards the end of the hallway, crossing into the dinning room then the living room. Reaching the front door. Opening the door and walking onto the porch, he quickly found who was calling him, he had introduced himself as Lucas when steve first met him, but steve had long since forgotten his name. "Hey, Ryan wants you to get started on the shingles." Lucas told him while handing him a nail gun. Steve took it and headed over to the ladder with out complaint. The ladder was just a few yards from the porch. he climbed up, taking care not to accidently set off the nail gun. Once on the roof he found the stack of shingles and began laying them out. Steve kept a flow, laying them down, lining them up, making sure they were straight, then sending a few nails into them. Though he didn't show any anger, he was silently swearing to himself the whole time he worked. Anrgy that no one else could be bothered to do something so simple. Angry that Lucas never seemed to do anything, he just told eveyone else what they should be doing. Angry that Ryan, the contractor, had hardly even been on the site at all in the last few days. While having his silent rant, Steve had been slamming the nail gun down on his mark aswell as working faster. Caught up in his anger, he quickly grabbed some more shingles, bringing the nail gun down as if he was hammering in the nails, sending three nails into it in a fast sweep, as he'd done with the others. Though, caught up in in his anger, he had nailed it in crooked. Steve had already brought over a few more before seeing his mistake. Seeing what he'd done Steve slammed his fist down, the action sending a nail flying from the nail gun, as he started yelling a mix of obscenities. Lucas came up the ladder to see what had happened. "Sucks. Shouldn't be to hard to pull them out though." Lucas said, passing Steve a hammer. Steve didn't reply and just went to work trying to pull the nails out. He didn't show it, but he was furious. Thinking only about How useless they all were. Everyone at the site. Not one of them could nail in a few shingles. The though both made him angrier, and in a way, made him feel good. As he thought about it more, the thought came to him. Not just the workers at the site, but just about everyone was useless! Walking around without any purpose. Their words nothing more then annoying grunts. Only gaining a use in their pitiful existence when they could offer him somthing. Now with a crooked grin on his face steve continued working, Ripping out the last nail, and fantasizing a bit about turning the nail gun on lucas.
Steve went on with his life, eventually he quit his job, after an incident where someone got a few nails shot into there hand. Steve stuck with his story that it was an accident and without any proof that it wasn't, it had to be dropped as his word against Ryan's. Steve soon after left his job, devoting all his time to his hobbies. His hobbies that had become obsessions.
Age: thirteen
Steve's mother sat in the psychologist's office. Even though the sofa she sat on had a blanket draped over it and the room was heated to a comfortable temperature her arms were covered in goosebumps. She wasn't exactly sure what she expected, but knew it wouldn't be good. The psychologist let out a small sigh before speaking.
"From what I have seen, I believe that Steve is showing early signs of "antisocial personality disorder". You might know it as, "sociopathy". It is a disorder is which a person has a lack empathy for others, a lack of remorse. They might also feel that they are above others, and some are even prone to violent behavior. Now I'm not saying that Steve is anything like that! He is nowhere near anything like that. I'm just saying that you should look into a few treatments and be aware of it." Steve's mother looked up, lifting her head from their hands,
"Alright." she finally replied. "I-I'll do what I can."
"But, do you know what his daydreaming is?"
she asked hopefully, The psychologist looked down a bit
"I thought it might be ADHD, but from your description... I honestly don't know. I'll see what I can find, in the meantime you should go on with life as normal. If it gets any worse, come back."
She nodded, thanked the psychologist and got up to leave. Exiting the office and walking into the lobby where Steve sat in the waiting area, Staring out the window, not responding until his mother shook his shoulder. Coming out of his trance, he looked around confused. His mother pulled him into a hug. In a caring tone saying "Daydreaming again? What am I going to do with you?" Steve returned the hug, more for gesture then anything. He could see though his mothers fake voice and focused smile. He knew that she was scared of his trances. He stopped calling them daydreams almost a year ago. They were far more powerful then daydreams, more real. And he had long since lost any fear of them. But as if only to annoy him with their sympathy, everyone else became scared of them as soon he embraced them.
Present
Steve walked down one of the many paths he had made in the forest, His backpack over his left shoulder and his axe in his right hand. Heading to his selfmade clearing where he'd gotten most of his wood from. Hearing a growl from behind him he turned around, seeing a zombie in the shade of the trees walking towards him. He turned to the zombie and started to pull his bow out but instead he just took a few steps back, the zombie now only a few feet from the end of the tree line, steve started walking again, looking over his shoulder at the zombie watching it step into the sunlight and promptly burst into flames. After the initial show, he turned away, walking a bit faster when he heard the crackling of the fire sound a little closer. Continuing down the the trail a ways, the trees thinning out on both sides of the path, being replaced by stumps. Entering his own clearing Steve picked out a tree and got to work hacking at it. Chopping in to it then cutting in at angle to cut out a wedge. He continued to wack at it until hearing an ear splitting crack. Steve quickly backed up and watched the tree topple over and land. He went over to the fallen tree and started chopping at the trunk. Once a chunk broke off it became a much smaller block, which Steve picked up and threw into his backpack before hacking away again. After chopping a few blocks from the tree he was about to start cutting down another tree when he heard a distant, faded voice. He tried ignore it and turned his attention to a rather promising tree, then he heard it again. Now accompanied by a pressure on his shoulder. He tried to walk over to the next tree but found it hard to move, he looked around only to see his vision was fading. The voice was getting louder now and he could make it out as womans voice saying his name "Steve?". His vision almost gone completely, he shut his eyes without knowing what else to do. He opened his eyes his wasn't in the forest anymore. The sudden change didn't phase him though, as he'd gotten use to it over the years. "Steve?" He finally focused on the woman who had been in plain sight the whole time. Wearing a doctors uniform. Standing in front of the window he'd been looking out of for the last few hours. She removed her hand from his shoulder when she could tell he was actually looking at her. "It's two P.M. Steve, you need to take your pills." She told him while holding out a little while cup. Steve took the cup, looking at the three capsules for a second before putting it up to his mouth and throwing his head back. Swallowing the pills without needing water. "Thats good Steve!" The woman said in a overly happy voice. "I wish some of the others were as easy as you." She walked off; leaving Steve to himself. To return to his vast world of blocks. He quickly got back to it. Steve sat staring almost blankly out the window.
Lost in his own little world.
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(if you couldn't already tell everything under this line isn't part of the story)
I want to make one thing very clear, I want criticism!
Don't be worried that I might get insulted or something, I won't. If there is a problem, something that can be improved or just something to try, I wanna hear it!
Not just about the story but my writing as a whole. I'm an amateur, I know I'm an amateur, and I want to get better.
I gotta fix my work ethic.
To quote a picture I saw that sums it up,
"I'm not a procrastinator, I just prefer doing all my work in a deadline induced panic"
I had pretty much had nothing but an idea until last wednesday when I saw that there was only a week left and I'd be busy on the weekend. So I had to do most everything in for days.
And yes, Most of the work was done in just today and yesterday.
I have a problem.
Anyway, actual story things. I was going to make the whole hobbies becoming obsessions a much bigger thing but while trying to write the story itself, I ended up leaving it a small detail. I'm also kinda worried that it seems like the whole story rides on the ending. and I'm not sure what to think about the way everything went in scenes. I wasn't really trying to do that, it just kinda happened. Seems like it could work though, don't know if I made it work, but It seems like it could work.
Also, it was probably pretty obvious but,The ending and title kinda connect. I was almost about it call the story 'his own little world" but I thought that would make it predictable.
By the way, if you didn't catch it, Steve's view on other people was describing testificates. I was going for a "all these things he thinks about end up in his dream" kinda thing.
Anyway this is going on for no reason, End of the blog.
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Even though I'm also participating in this contest as well I will give this a diamond and a favorite. I hope you at least place, this story deserves it. Good Luck!! :)
Anyway good luck in the contest and I advise you to keep entering these contests, it will sharpen your writing skills and you are already doing fantastic man. :)