Every day as I open the blogger page for my daily 'check to see if anyone's posted anything today', I see the title of my blog. Nearly every day, I feel guilty when I see the title of my blog, because I feel I have a commitment to post on a regular routine, and I know I'm not living up to that.
Now I'm ridding myself of the guilt.
How?
By ridding myself of the self-appointed commitment.
So, today marks the first day of my blog-abandonment period. You may ask, "Why even make a post on this? He's already basically abandoned the blog.." This is true. Even the last few posts I've done were basically because I felt bad for having not posted for so long. If posting in this blog has become more frustration than enjoyment, it's probably time to take a break.
The main reason I want to make a post on this is because I've seen many people with blogs take a break without prior notice. I'll check these inactive blogs near daily, hoping for something to come up, and still nothing comes.
So I'm making a post so that nobody is consistently checking this blog, hoping for something to come up.
And so I say goodbye to this blog for the time being.
Farewell, dear readers!
Until next time...
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Dreams
Have you ever had a dream that completely changed your view of life? I don't know how often dreams affect the person seeing them, but it happens. I just had a dream like that. This dream completely changed my view of things, and not necessarily for the better.
"Suddenly all my hopes come crashing down around me from the sky like boulders engulfed in flame. I then get crushed by a particularly large one and the only way it seems I can survive is to lift this final boulder back up."
Getting through the depression caused by the dream was incredibly tough, and I probably wouldn't have been able to do it were it not for two incredibly amazing people. You all remember Raquel, authoress of God's daughter? How about Julia, authoress of Glimpsing Uncertainty and nearly two novels of her own? Without these two, I don't know where I would be. Due to a simple bad dream, I nearly gave up everything I cared about. All my hopes were simply crushed, these including the longing to become everything I ever wanted to be: an author, a musician, a friend. Not only was I brought back from abandoning everyone, including you, my readers; but I nearly gave up my one constant joy: music.
There's a scene in the movie 'August Rush' (which I plan to do a review on very soon) wherein Louis says to August, "You never quit on your music, no matter what happens. Because anytime something bad happens to you, it's the one place you can escape to and just let it go. I learned that the hard way; and anyways, look at me. Nothing bad's gonna happen. You gotta have a little faith." The lines make a lot more sense when put in context of the movie, but when I heard those words again they spoke to me in a new way.
Thankfully, I can say I have regained my love for music.
Hopefully, I will never lose that again. Given the circumstances of me blasting music in my ears whilst writing this post, It doesn't look like it'll be going away anytime soon.
I've learned something through this: dreams will affect you, of that there is no doubt, but don't let them change who you are. I succumbed to that for about 2 days, and I wasn't changed for the better.
Dreams - The Cranberries
"Suddenly all my hopes come crashing down around me from the sky like boulders engulfed in flame. I then get crushed by a particularly large one and the only way it seems I can survive is to lift this final boulder back up."
Getting through the depression caused by the dream was incredibly tough, and I probably wouldn't have been able to do it were it not for two incredibly amazing people. You all remember Raquel, authoress of God's daughter? How about Julia, authoress of Glimpsing Uncertainty and nearly two novels of her own? Without these two, I don't know where I would be. Due to a simple bad dream, I nearly gave up everything I cared about. All my hopes were simply crushed, these including the longing to become everything I ever wanted to be: an author, a musician, a friend. Not only was I brought back from abandoning everyone, including you, my readers; but I nearly gave up my one constant joy: music.
There's a scene in the movie 'August Rush' (which I plan to do a review on very soon) wherein Louis says to August, "You never quit on your music, no matter what happens. Because anytime something bad happens to you, it's the one place you can escape to and just let it go. I learned that the hard way; and anyways, look at me. Nothing bad's gonna happen. You gotta have a little faith." The lines make a lot more sense when put in context of the movie, but when I heard those words again they spoke to me in a new way.
Thankfully, I can say I have regained my love for music.
I've learned something through this: dreams will affect you, of that there is no doubt, but don't let them change who you are. I succumbed to that for about 2 days, and I wasn't changed for the better.
Dreams - The Cranberries
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
New Years Resolutions.
It's the first post of the year over here at Keyboards and Pens, Music and Writing... So I decided (a bit late, I know) to do this! I noticed a lot of these going around through multiple blogs, so I decided to jump to it and do my own.
(note: these are not in order of importance)
1~ Read and study the Bible on a much more regular, if not daily, basis.
2~ Succeed with a certain group that will remain un-named for now.
3~ Write more often, including with this blog.
4~ Restrain myself more, including keeping myself from outbursts of anger.
5~ Speak when words need to be spoken, shut up and listen when better to shut up and listen.
6~ Be more diligent in school (related to #7)
7~ Less procrastination
8~ Put others needs before my own, and put a foot on the neck of my pride.
9~ Continue to write and improve my original music
9 and 1/2~ Find and take a chance to record my own music.
10~ Keep commitments that I have made, unless the opposite can't be avoided.
11~ Put a strainer over everything, and only take in what is good.
12~ Love those I hate, or, at least, try my best.
13~ Try to respect and spend more time with those I call my friends and family more than I have.
14~ Stop trying to live in the past, I'm only granted life in the present.
15~ Improve everything I have and do. (e.g.: writing, friendships, music, knowledge, faith, etc...)
That's it for now. If ever I want to add anything, I'll put it up there in the 'Resolutions' page.
I hope you all had a wonderful New Years Day!
(note: these are not in order of importance)
1~ Read and study the Bible on a much more regular, if not daily, basis.
2~ Succeed with a certain group that will remain un-named for now.
3~ Write more often, including with this blog.
4~ Restrain myself more, including keeping myself from outbursts of anger.
5~ Speak when words need to be spoken, shut up and listen when better to shut up and listen.
6~ Be more diligent in school (related to #7)
7~ Less procrastination
8~ Put others needs before my own, and put a foot on the neck of my pride.
9~ Continue to write and improve my original music
9 and 1/2~ Find and take a chance to record my own music.
10~ Keep commitments that I have made, unless the opposite can't be avoided.
11~ Put a strainer over everything, and only take in what is good.
12~ Love those I hate, or, at least, try my best.
13~ Try to respect and spend more time with those I call my friends and family more than I have.
14~ Stop trying to live in the past, I'm only granted life in the present.
15~ Improve everything I have and do. (e.g.: writing, friendships, music, knowledge, faith, etc...)
That's it for now. If ever I want to add anything, I'll put it up there in the 'Resolutions' page.
I hope you all had a wonderful New Years Day!
Friday, December 30, 2011
Chapter 2: Section 3
Jordan ran at a full sprint to the door that he knew lead to his cellar. The place he knew was where the bombs were forged. The door was wide open. He cursed under his breath. He ran to his living room couch, and pulled a small pistol from under the cushions. He ran back to the cellar door and snuck slowly down the stairs, but pressed himself roughly against the wall of the stairwell when he heard a small rattle from below. He heard small voices speaking.
"What the hell, Bob? We came here to get money, not to find a serial killer!"
"Jim, don't you see what this is? Police have been looking all over the place for the man that blew the train. It's no slight coincidence that only a day after the train was blown, we find a house where there's makings of bombs."
"Bob! What if it only is that? A coincidence! What if this is a college student's science project or something?"
"Jim, this isn't any toy." Jordan heard something being picked up and shaken.
"Jim, you look confused; so I'll explain. This here is TNT extract. A college wouldn't give a student anything truly explosive. And this here: in this little jar here? It's pure sodium. Don't you know what that means?"
"The dude likes salt?"
"Idiot... When pure sodium comes in contact with water, it creates a rather large explosion. From what I'm seeing here, it looks like he created some sort of timed contraption which would bring the sodium and water into contact with each other at a designated time."
"Okay, that sounds slightly possible, but where did you learn all this?"
"I took a science class, which explains the sodium knowledge. But do you remember when I was studying to become a police officer?"
"Yeah? What about it?"
"When I was studying for the test, I had to learn about how to create bombs so that I would know how to disarm them."
"Oh yeah... you told me about that..."
"Right."
Jordan heard more clattering then heard footsteps coming directly towards his position. Jordan grabbed the railing and jumped forwards exactly on time. He landed on one of the two people, and aimed the pistol directly at the other.
"Get back," he said, a fire burning in his eyes.
The thief did so reluctantly, his face glistening with fear.
"Who's this?" Jordan asked.
"That's.... Ji... Jeremy..."
"Don't lie to me, fool. His name is Jim."
Jordan aimed the pistol at Jim and pulled the trigger. Jim's body went limp.
"Or rather, it was."
Bob crumbled to the floor, tears beginning to stream from his face.
"Why..?"
"Well, lets see," Jordan kicked Jim's body off to the side of the room. "You know who I am, and you were gonna report me. Let Jim serve as an example of what will happen to you if you tell anyone."
"But you just murdered him! There's no way you can get away with this!"
"Well, if I remember correctly, the Constitution gives the permission to protect yourself accordingly, especially in the case of a thief in your home."
Bob backed into the corner of the room.
Jordan walked to Bob, picked him up by his collar, and hit him on the head with the pistol in his hand. Bob fell to the floor, unconscious. Jordan lifted Bob onto his shoulders and carried him up the stairs, out of his house, and to his neighbors home. The neighbors weren't there, and he knew how to sneak into their house. He did so, and unlocked their front door. He called the police and waited on the front porch.
The policeman arrived. Jordan told them how the thief had broken into his home, and how he (himself) had acted out of self-defense.
The officer took the unconscious body and thanked Jordan, saying that they had been trying to catch a thief, and that Bob matched the description.
The police officer drove away, and Jordan entered his neighbors home. He locked the front door, and snuck back out of the house. He went back to his cellar, and threw a sheet over the body. He took a large black garbage bag and dumped his small bomb particles into it. He stuck the bag in the corner of the room, and left the cellar, locking the door behind him. He let his body fall on his couch and sighed deeply.
Finally he stood and looked out the window. The sky was clouded, and Jordan predicted rain within the next half-hour.
It didn't take long, the rain began, and Jordan collapsed in on himself. Jordan slumped onto the floor, tears flooding from his eyes, pain haunting him.
"What the hell, Bob? We came here to get money, not to find a serial killer!"
"Jim, don't you see what this is? Police have been looking all over the place for the man that blew the train. It's no slight coincidence that only a day after the train was blown, we find a house where there's makings of bombs."
"Bob! What if it only is that? A coincidence! What if this is a college student's science project or something?"
"Jim, this isn't any toy." Jordan heard something being picked up and shaken.
"Jim, you look confused; so I'll explain. This here is TNT extract. A college wouldn't give a student anything truly explosive. And this here: in this little jar here? It's pure sodium. Don't you know what that means?"
"The dude likes salt?"
"Idiot... When pure sodium comes in contact with water, it creates a rather large explosion. From what I'm seeing here, it looks like he created some sort of timed contraption which would bring the sodium and water into contact with each other at a designated time."
"Okay, that sounds slightly possible, but where did you learn all this?"
"I took a science class, which explains the sodium knowledge. But do you remember when I was studying to become a police officer?"
"Yeah? What about it?"
"When I was studying for the test, I had to learn about how to create bombs so that I would know how to disarm them."
"Oh yeah... you told me about that..."
"Right."
Jordan heard more clattering then heard footsteps coming directly towards his position. Jordan grabbed the railing and jumped forwards exactly on time. He landed on one of the two people, and aimed the pistol directly at the other.
"Get back," he said, a fire burning in his eyes.
The thief did so reluctantly, his face glistening with fear.
"Who's this?" Jordan asked.
"That's.... Ji... Jeremy..."
"Don't lie to me, fool. His name is Jim."
Jordan aimed the pistol at Jim and pulled the trigger. Jim's body went limp.
"Or rather, it was."
Bob crumbled to the floor, tears beginning to stream from his face.
"Why..?"
"Well, lets see," Jordan kicked Jim's body off to the side of the room. "You know who I am, and you were gonna report me. Let Jim serve as an example of what will happen to you if you tell anyone."
"But you just murdered him! There's no way you can get away with this!"
"Well, if I remember correctly, the Constitution gives the permission to protect yourself accordingly, especially in the case of a thief in your home."
Bob backed into the corner of the room.
Jordan walked to Bob, picked him up by his collar, and hit him on the head with the pistol in his hand. Bob fell to the floor, unconscious. Jordan lifted Bob onto his shoulders and carried him up the stairs, out of his house, and to his neighbors home. The neighbors weren't there, and he knew how to sneak into their house. He did so, and unlocked their front door. He called the police and waited on the front porch.
The policeman arrived. Jordan told them how the thief had broken into his home, and how he (himself) had acted out of self-defense.
The officer took the unconscious body and thanked Jordan, saying that they had been trying to catch a thief, and that Bob matched the description.
The police officer drove away, and Jordan entered his neighbors home. He locked the front door, and snuck back out of the house. He went back to his cellar, and threw a sheet over the body. He took a large black garbage bag and dumped his small bomb particles into it. He stuck the bag in the corner of the room, and left the cellar, locking the door behind him. He let his body fall on his couch and sighed deeply.
Finally he stood and looked out the window. The sky was clouded, and Jordan predicted rain within the next half-hour.
It didn't take long, the rain began, and Jordan collapsed in on himself. Jordan slumped onto the floor, tears flooding from his eyes, pain haunting him.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Look who's finally back!
Would the words "I'm sorry" properly account for the un-excused absence from my blog, and all those story parts that should have been posted?
No?
I didn't think so.
Rats.
Well, I'm sorry anyways. To be honest, I was almost afraid of coming back to my blog. Since I didn't feel as though it would have been right had I pretended nothing had happened and go along normally, I decided to give you this post instead of the next story part. I'll try my best to get you the next story part tomorrow.
This next picture is an attempt to blow you all back to the happy times of blogging wherein there is no unexcused absences.
As you all very-well know, my absence took place over the course of Christmas break. The school I go to, King's Academy, gave us 3 weeks of break. Pretty awesome if you ask me.
I noticed this blogger do a Christmas recipient list, so I decided to do my own. Fun? No? just scroll down then, there's more to come.
1: 3 CD's two from my parents, one from my brother and his wife.
This one ^ is from Sam and Sarah
No?
I didn't think so.
Rats.
Well, I'm sorry anyways. To be honest, I was almost afraid of coming back to my blog. Since I didn't feel as though it would have been right had I pretended nothing had happened and go along normally, I decided to give you this post instead of the next story part. I'll try my best to get you the next story part tomorrow.
This next picture is an attempt to blow you all back to the happy times of blogging wherein there is no unexcused absences.
As you all very-well know, my absence took place over the course of Christmas break. The school I go to, King's Academy, gave us 3 weeks of break. Pretty awesome if you ask me.
I noticed this blogger do a Christmas recipient list, so I decided to do my own. Fun? No? just scroll down then, there's more to come.
1: 3 CD's two from my parents, one from my brother and his wife.
This one ^ is from Sam and Sarah
Awesome, right?
2: I also got 100 CDs (blank) from my sister Leah and her husband, Ryan.
3: I got a very nice brown sweater from my parents, but I couldn't find a picture, so you'll have to go without.
4: I also got this:
A pen engraved with my initials from a friend. (Friends, more often than not, remain nameless on this blog.)
5: A pack of gum:
in other words, about 8 of those.
6: A tiny frying pan:
Yeah, really, about that small.
7: 2 seasons of comedy, including:
Yep.
7: 14 volumes of 'A Medical and Health Encyclopedia.' It was apparently meant to just disguise the rest of my present, but I don't know... I think my Mom wants me to be a doctor or something...
It's not the exact same thing as that, but it's close enough...
8: Getting to watch Benny open this:
The original present (Herodotus) was stuck in a small paper bag. That paper bag was stuck into a wooden box, which was nailed shut. That box was then stuck into yet another wooden box, which was screwed shut. (Box-ception!) That wooden box was then put into a cardboard box, which was wrapped with duct-tape. That cardboard box was then disguised as a happy little (big) present to open by wrapping it with happy wrapping paper. :)
Needless to say, the present was given to Benny by my brother Sam and I.
The expression on Benny's face when he saw the second wooden box = priceless.
9&10: An ornament, and candy.
Fun stuff, eh?
Indeed.
As a transition out of the Christmas phase of the post, enjoy this picture:
See this blog, here? and here? the authoress of these two blogs is hosting a fundraiser dance (although you don't have to pay, it would be appreciated.) The dance is taking place this Friday at Reformation Covenant Church. It should be pretty awesome.
Again, I'll hopefully have a post up tomorrow, look forward to it!
Over and out.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Chapter 2: Section 2
Jordan walked for hours. He walked away from the crash, away from Cynthia. He meant to get as far away as he possibly could. Jordan found himself at his own doorstep. His feet apparently knew the way home without the help of his mind. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door, sighing. After closing the door behind him, he turned to the wall on his right and pressed a button, shaking his house with the power of his music turning on. He sighed again and plopped down on a couch. He should have known, Cynthia was the first person at the site, and would obviously feel the pressure to resolve it all. She would feel like she could have been there to stop it, and so feel the obligation to right the damage by resolving the mystery of the bomber.
So that was it. He could no longer let himself see Cynthia. As sad as the prospect was, it was the only safe option. But why was it sad? He had only known her for the past 15 hours, if that. He picked up a remote and paused the music. He stood and walked to his computer. He searched her name, wondering if he could find her online. Alas, no. Disappointment. But why? He had no interest in her. At least that's what he was trying to convince himself. He opened his mind. She was beautiful, and seemed to like him. That was a rarity among people.
Defense one: If he can manage to gain her trust by the time she finds out who he is, she'll refuse to accept it.
Defense two: Jordan trained himself in treachery and deceit since he was 12, and could very likely avoid recognition as a killer.
Guilt.
Guilt plagued him again. A killer. A cold-hearted killer, that's who he was. But then again, he'd known that since he was 12, and didn't do anything to stop his upcoming destruction.
His vision refocused on the screen in front of him. Cynthia.
Jordan jumped from his chair and ran out of the room. He grabbed his never-used keys off of the bookshelf and ran out the door. He opened his garage door to his shining black 2010 camaro. He climbed into the car, put his keys in the ignition, and pulled out of his garage. after making sure the garage door was shut behind him, he sped off to the crash-site. He stopped abruptly next to a large beam sticking out of the ground and jumped out of the car. Cynthia was gone.
What could he have expected? That she stay there, looking at a crashed train all day? No.
"Idiot!" he muttered to himself angrily. He fell back into the car and leaned back into the seat. He sighed again. He let out a long breath and started his car again. He pulled around and headed back home. What would he have even said, anyways? "Hi! I think I might love you" ? No. No guy can say that easily. Especially not if he knows inside that the girl may then end up falling for a man who believes himself to be a beast of nature. He shook his head sadly and started driving home. He flinched in finding Cynthia walking alone on the side of the road. He pulled over next to her and honked. It was her turn to flinch. She looked around, looking to see if the honk was meant for another. Jordan leaned across the car and opened the door. She walked slowly to the car and peeked in.
"Need a ride?" He said.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I'm really close to home, actually."
"You sure?" he asked, "I certainly don't mind taking you home, if needed."
"I'm pretty sure. Thanks though!"
"Alright... Well, I'll see you later then!"
"Absolutely!" she replied. She closed the passenger door for him, and walked on in the other direction.
Jordan swallowed down a knot in his throat and pulled back onto the road, returning home. Jordan felt like a part of his heart just died.
Jordan parked his car in his garage and walked to his front door.
Disappointment became despair. His house was a mess. It didn't look anything like how he'd left it. One thought rose to his mind.
He forgot to lock the door to his cellar.
Sorry, it's a little short. But that's okay. Vote on the poll! Comment! And if you haven't already (and if you feel so inclined), Follow!
So that was it. He could no longer let himself see Cynthia. As sad as the prospect was, it was the only safe option. But why was it sad? He had only known her for the past 15 hours, if that. He picked up a remote and paused the music. He stood and walked to his computer. He searched her name, wondering if he could find her online. Alas, no. Disappointment. But why? He had no interest in her. At least that's what he was trying to convince himself. He opened his mind. She was beautiful, and seemed to like him. That was a rarity among people.
Defense one: If he can manage to gain her trust by the time she finds out who he is, she'll refuse to accept it.
Defense two: Jordan trained himself in treachery and deceit since he was 12, and could very likely avoid recognition as a killer.
Guilt.
Guilt plagued him again. A killer. A cold-hearted killer, that's who he was. But then again, he'd known that since he was 12, and didn't do anything to stop his upcoming destruction.
His vision refocused on the screen in front of him. Cynthia.
Jordan jumped from his chair and ran out of the room. He grabbed his never-used keys off of the bookshelf and ran out the door. He opened his garage door to his shining black 2010 camaro. He climbed into the car, put his keys in the ignition, and pulled out of his garage. after making sure the garage door was shut behind him, he sped off to the crash-site. He stopped abruptly next to a large beam sticking out of the ground and jumped out of the car. Cynthia was gone.
What could he have expected? That she stay there, looking at a crashed train all day? No.
"Idiot!" he muttered to himself angrily. He fell back into the car and leaned back into the seat. He sighed again. He let out a long breath and started his car again. He pulled around and headed back home. What would he have even said, anyways? "Hi! I think I might love you" ? No. No guy can say that easily. Especially not if he knows inside that the girl may then end up falling for a man who believes himself to be a beast of nature. He shook his head sadly and started driving home. He flinched in finding Cynthia walking alone on the side of the road. He pulled over next to her and honked. It was her turn to flinch. She looked around, looking to see if the honk was meant for another. Jordan leaned across the car and opened the door. She walked slowly to the car and peeked in.
"Need a ride?" He said.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I'm really close to home, actually."
"You sure?" he asked, "I certainly don't mind taking you home, if needed."
"I'm pretty sure. Thanks though!"
"Alright... Well, I'll see you later then!"
"Absolutely!" she replied. She closed the passenger door for him, and walked on in the other direction.
Jordan swallowed down a knot in his throat and pulled back onto the road, returning home. Jordan felt like a part of his heart just died.
Jordan parked his car in his garage and walked to his front door.
Disappointment became despair. His house was a mess. It didn't look anything like how he'd left it. One thought rose to his mind.
He forgot to lock the door to his cellar.
Sorry, it's a little short. But that's okay. Vote on the poll! Comment! And if you haven't already (and if you feel so inclined), Follow!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Chapter 2: Section 1
Jordan Williams awoke. He looked to his left and saw his dark coat and hoodie draped over a chair. Of course, his name wasn't really Jordan Williams. Who would be stupid enough to give their name to a stranger?
His real name was Andrew Lox. A name he hadn't responded to in many many years. Of late, he went by the name Jordan Williams. So it might as well be that his name really was Jordan Williams. But at least his fingerprints left on the bomb would doubtfully ever be found, and if they were, the prints would give the wrong name.
Jordan looked around the room he was in, as he did almost every morning. The room was larger than you would expect from the outside of the house, it consisted of a queen-size bed, a 50 inch, flat-screen TV, and speakers all around the room that were undoubtedly made to deafen people. There were two books in the room. Both contained information on bombs and mines. Jordan sat up onto the side of his bed. He rubbed his eyes. He turned to his headboard and grabbed a remote. He pressed the play button, and loud sounds of dubstep suddenly filled the room. Jordan had nothing on his schedule for the day, so he considered plopping back down onto his bed and drifting back off to sleep. He tilted his head and looked at his clock. 10:48am.
He had already slept in for hours upon hours. He slipped out of his bed, walked out of his room, setting the sound system to a setting of running throughout the entire house. He took a long shower, then changed into black jeans and black t-shirt. He made himself chocolate milk. Not even a train-bomber can resist the powers of chocolate milk. After finishing his drink, he pulled on shoes, grabbed his keys, and left the house.
He walked. He didn't often use his car. The cost of gas cut deep on his work-wage, not to mention walking is safer. So He walked with no direction. He rarely had any direction when he walked. He passed street upon street until he came to McLoughlin Boulevard. No matter where he walked, he always seemed to end up there. He headed to the direction of the Gladstone/Oregon city bridge. He decided to visit the 'crash-site' again. He was there when the train blew. He watched his masterpiece of art unfold in person rather than see the aftermath of the event on the news.
He stayed with the burning wreckage for about ten minutes. Cynthia was the first to arrive at the scene, but she didn't notice him. After he heard the wail of sirens, he quickly made his leave of the mess. He was walking for the rest of the day. He walked all the way to Sellwood and back to the wreckage, and back, and made his way back again, but was interrupted midway by seeing a car refuse to start at a near empty parking lot. He continued walking, not caring, until he saw the driver exit the car. He at first didn't recognize her, and so continued walking, but out of the corner of his eye, he recognized her as the woman at the crash-site. He walked to her, fixed her car, introduced himself with a false name, and left.
Jordan found himself back in front of the wreckage once again. And lo and behold, Cynthia sat on a curb merely a block away. He walked up to her, and made his introduction. He smiled within himself, feeling that sense of anonymity. That feeling that nobody would ever know who he was or that he blew the train.
"Hey!" he said. Cynthia had a puzzled look for a few seconds, then her face brightened.
"Oh hi!" she said. "At first I didn't realize who you were!" She laughed. Jordan smiled. Not because of what she said, but because of her laugh. She had no idea who he was, otherwise she would never laugh in his presence.
"It's not the first time somebody didn't recognize me," he said, "although last time I didn't have this." he motioned to his massive scar on his face.
"I can't imagine how painful it must have been to get something like that."
"It wasn't too comfortable." Uncomfortable was definitely the word. Jordan got the scar on his face from an explosion of a bomb he himself created and detonated, and Jordan was getting uncomfortable on the subject of the scar. Cynthia sighed.
"Well, I won't ask you to relive something like that. So, no worries," said Cynthia. Jordan smiled, once again feeling invulnerability. "So! What brings you here?" she asked. Jordan thought furiously.
"Uuhh... I saw on the news something about a train crashing here, and I wanted to see it in person."
"Ah. I see. Forensic scientists actually discovered remains of a bomb!" Jordan pulled a look of surprise.
"Really?? Wow.... that's.... wasn't mentioned on the news..."
"I can think why," Cynthia said. I don't think they would want everybody knowing about a bomber lumbering around Oregon."
"I suppose that makes sense, otherwise everyone would be in a panic," Jordan said.
"Yeah... I've been trying to find out more about the crash, but I haven't heard anything! It's a little frustrating," said Cynthia, clearly upset. Jordan was taken aback, and clearly felt a need to withdraw. He pulled out a pocketwatch and checked the time for no reason.
"Yes, I can see how that would be frustrating, especially if you live around here and feel connected to the crash in some way."
"Yeah..." sighed Cynthia.
"Well, I gotta go! Good luck on finding out more about the crash!" Jordan said his words sincerely, but meant them in a demeaning manner. He prided himself in trickery.
Cynthia had a small look of disappointment on her face as she replied, "Goodbye!"
Jordan had a small look of worry on his face as he turned from Cynthia, intending to never see her again.
So ends part 1 of Chapter 2! Comments are always welcome, and votes on the story poll are always appreciated. Take your vote, and tune in next week for section 2!
His real name was Andrew Lox. A name he hadn't responded to in many many years. Of late, he went by the name Jordan Williams. So it might as well be that his name really was Jordan Williams. But at least his fingerprints left on the bomb would doubtfully ever be found, and if they were, the prints would give the wrong name.
Jordan looked around the room he was in, as he did almost every morning. The room was larger than you would expect from the outside of the house, it consisted of a queen-size bed, a 50 inch, flat-screen TV, and speakers all around the room that were undoubtedly made to deafen people. There were two books in the room. Both contained information on bombs and mines. Jordan sat up onto the side of his bed. He rubbed his eyes. He turned to his headboard and grabbed a remote. He pressed the play button, and loud sounds of dubstep suddenly filled the room. Jordan had nothing on his schedule for the day, so he considered plopping back down onto his bed and drifting back off to sleep. He tilted his head and looked at his clock. 10:48am.
He had already slept in for hours upon hours. He slipped out of his bed, walked out of his room, setting the sound system to a setting of running throughout the entire house. He took a long shower, then changed into black jeans and black t-shirt. He made himself chocolate milk. Not even a train-bomber can resist the powers of chocolate milk. After finishing his drink, he pulled on shoes, grabbed his keys, and left the house.
He walked. He didn't often use his car. The cost of gas cut deep on his work-wage, not to mention walking is safer. So He walked with no direction. He rarely had any direction when he walked. He passed street upon street until he came to McLoughlin Boulevard. No matter where he walked, he always seemed to end up there. He headed to the direction of the Gladstone/Oregon city bridge. He decided to visit the 'crash-site' again. He was there when the train blew. He watched his masterpiece of art unfold in person rather than see the aftermath of the event on the news.
He stayed with the burning wreckage for about ten minutes. Cynthia was the first to arrive at the scene, but she didn't notice him. After he heard the wail of sirens, he quickly made his leave of the mess. He was walking for the rest of the day. He walked all the way to Sellwood and back to the wreckage, and back, and made his way back again, but was interrupted midway by seeing a car refuse to start at a near empty parking lot. He continued walking, not caring, until he saw the driver exit the car. He at first didn't recognize her, and so continued walking, but out of the corner of his eye, he recognized her as the woman at the crash-site. He walked to her, fixed her car, introduced himself with a false name, and left.
Jordan found himself back in front of the wreckage once again. And lo and behold, Cynthia sat on a curb merely a block away. He walked up to her, and made his introduction. He smiled within himself, feeling that sense of anonymity. That feeling that nobody would ever know who he was or that he blew the train.
"Hey!" he said. Cynthia had a puzzled look for a few seconds, then her face brightened.
"Oh hi!" she said. "At first I didn't realize who you were!" She laughed. Jordan smiled. Not because of what she said, but because of her laugh. She had no idea who he was, otherwise she would never laugh in his presence.
"It's not the first time somebody didn't recognize me," he said, "although last time I didn't have this." he motioned to his massive scar on his face.
"I can't imagine how painful it must have been to get something like that."
"It wasn't too comfortable." Uncomfortable was definitely the word. Jordan got the scar on his face from an explosion of a bomb he himself created and detonated, and Jordan was getting uncomfortable on the subject of the scar. Cynthia sighed.
"Well, I won't ask you to relive something like that. So, no worries," said Cynthia. Jordan smiled, once again feeling invulnerability. "So! What brings you here?" she asked. Jordan thought furiously.
"Uuhh... I saw on the news something about a train crashing here, and I wanted to see it in person."
"Ah. I see. Forensic scientists actually discovered remains of a bomb!" Jordan pulled a look of surprise.
"Really?? Wow.... that's.... wasn't mentioned on the news..."
"I can think why," Cynthia said. I don't think they would want everybody knowing about a bomber lumbering around Oregon."
"I suppose that makes sense, otherwise everyone would be in a panic," Jordan said.
"Yeah... I've been trying to find out more about the crash, but I haven't heard anything! It's a little frustrating," said Cynthia, clearly upset. Jordan was taken aback, and clearly felt a need to withdraw. He pulled out a pocketwatch and checked the time for no reason.
"Yes, I can see how that would be frustrating, especially if you live around here and feel connected to the crash in some way."
"Yeah..." sighed Cynthia.
"Well, I gotta go! Good luck on finding out more about the crash!" Jordan said his words sincerely, but meant them in a demeaning manner. He prided himself in trickery.
Cynthia had a small look of disappointment on her face as she replied, "Goodbye!"
Jordan had a small look of worry on his face as he turned from Cynthia, intending to never see her again.
So ends part 1 of Chapter 2! Comments are always welcome, and votes on the story poll are always appreciated. Take your vote, and tune in next week for section 2!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)