Not finished, or even properly checked for errors. I like where it is going though, interesting dialogue to write! Enjoy! =)
Trevor seemed to have a fierce case of selfhood and one of these separate selves, we don't really know which one that is his real self so to speak, had a notion to turn right whereas the other had a notion to do the contrary. This made it impossible for the nerve system to satisfy them both and therefore decided to do neither and by this forcing the two separate Trevors to start reason with each other. The physical Trevor just kept walking straight forward in obtuse stupor. All his five senses revolted against each other and the physically acting agent of body, and this was to become Trevor as a whole's evidently most fatal mistake ever. With this comes the moral lesson of a team looking past teamwork and the importance of teambuilding. Now if Trevor had taken a course in teambuilding all by himself he would probably have been locked up – but I can see how the classic "Get everyone through the hula hoop without letting go of each others hands" exercise would be of interest to him. But I guess in his case it would be a matter of "Get the physical Trevor through the hula hoop without his senses letting go of each others hands". Now, due to the senses lack of sense of belonging they failed the simple task of "Get the physical Trevor across the road unharmed".
- Are you all right, mister?
His ears heard a man's voice saying, and this time they decided to send the message to the brain. He opened his eyes and the iris did the same as the ears, this is what the message that the brain caught said: a man was leaning over Trevor. Black hair on a light bulb, which was attached by a thin neck to a skinny, almost tottering torso.
- Ah, do not worry. I am all right. In fact, I am getting quite used to this.
He said with a high-pitched, adolescent voice. He flipped himself over as if to make a push up, and he raised himself up with a little but needless help from his friend in white shirt and black tie
- And what do you mean by that. What Exactly is it that you are getting used to?
The man said with his head askew, looking like a bird. His nose was sharp as a razor and so Trevor dodged by reflex every time the stranger turned his head.
- "You" is the right word indeed, 'cos this is truly a case of accosting in plural. Y'know, you shouldn't listen to him; he is just upset because of me.
Trevor said, now with an ascendant nasal voice; scoffing at himself.
- Yeah? Well, I was here first wasn't I?
The high-pitched voice answered, and spat at his own feet; his eyes were bound with fury and they were literally burning with vehement.
- Nobody knows that!
The nasal voice answered with stoical eloquence, turning his unctuous head as he raised it snobbishly.
Trevor heard a strident noise of rubber working asphalt as the car kicked away, full speed. The argument that Trevor had with himself, was actually quite terrifying too watch for outside viewers; and so the driver had slowly backed away, with his hands flapping as if he was pushing himself back from the injured "men". When he reached a good, safe distance, he turned and made a run for it (his black Chev with silver framework, and an imprinted replica of Trevor's face wrought in the hood).
- What a runner! This is illegal. He could at least have had us taking a look at his ID.
Trevor said with a High-pitched, adolescent, nasal and ascendant voice; and raised his fist in anger at the disappearing black Chev.
- Shall we proceed then?
The suave, nasal voice asked as he put a monocle to his right eye.
- Ah! We are not wearing that... that thing! Don't even think about it!
The high-pitched voice screamed and broke like of a teenager's; making it sound more like "Deeoooiient even theeiiiink about eeiiit!".
- Hah! Well, I am going to wear it. And I happen to be YOU, physically at least, so tough luck, mister.
The ascendant, nasal voice answered as he put on a pair of white silk gloves and a satisfied countenance. But just the following second Trevor forced off the gloves, making the stitches burst. He took the monocle and threw it to the ground in glass crash of a thousand glimmering prisms – he then dropped the gloves on the asphalt and stepped on them with a twisting motion as if it was a roach. He then changed back into a rigorous self and shacked his head disapprovingly.
- Oh my, dear friend, was that really necessary?
The nasal voice said with his eyes closed, cross-armed.
- Now, let's proceed, please!
The high-pitched voice cried with the stubborn grin of a child that does not get it as it wants. He wanted to run from his suave self but that was impossible due to two simple but problematic points: 1. One cannot simply run from oneself, at least not physically. And number 2. One's other self would know about one's plans by simple introspection; after all, the several selves share the one brain. You cannot lie to yourself, you cannot keep anything from yourself and you cannot hide from yourself - Freud would probably have his objections to this, but Freud does not have a say in this story.
One of these two selves started to walk down the road towards Hassel's for a bite, and by the physical connection between this and his other self; he knew that the other self too was starving. Physical Trevor, on the other hand, did not move.
Something was holding him back, causing torpor, but I think we all know what. Trevor sighed.
- Just where are we going? I am not letting you decide!
A nasal voice sharply protested.
- Ah, Hassel's; and what are they serving today?
*More to come*
Short story by NDF
Read 797 times
Written on 2011-08-23 at 23:40
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Schizophrenia
The breeze caught some tunes and kept them with it. The tunes seemed to come from one of the balconies of the four-flat buildings with heat wavering over red brick. All this was true. Through the curtains of apartment number 3, top right, the subterranean sunlight striped the room and made it look a little bit like the seventies. A quite simple but kindly sonorous piece of gilt metal danced to its own tunes and now the wind was preaching kind jazz on the streets. Although the people that happened to walk by only caught an occasional tune, as letters instead of words and so on, it came on to affect an air of tranquillity. Trevor who happened to be one of the people that walked by the balcony in this very moment didn't actually hear any of these occasional tunes, since he was floating on clouds in pondering. But he saw the tunes licking the guise of the green hazels.Trevor seemed to have a fierce case of selfhood and one of these separate selves, we don't really know which one that is his real self so to speak, had a notion to turn right whereas the other had a notion to do the contrary. This made it impossible for the nerve system to satisfy them both and therefore decided to do neither and by this forcing the two separate Trevors to start reason with each other. The physical Trevor just kept walking straight forward in obtuse stupor. All his five senses revolted against each other and the physically acting agent of body, and this was to become Trevor as a whole's evidently most fatal mistake ever. With this comes the moral lesson of a team looking past teamwork and the importance of teambuilding. Now if Trevor had taken a course in teambuilding all by himself he would probably have been locked up – but I can see how the classic "Get everyone through the hula hoop without letting go of each others hands" exercise would be of interest to him. But I guess in his case it would be a matter of "Get the physical Trevor through the hula hoop without his senses letting go of each others hands". Now, due to the senses lack of sense of belonging they failed the simple task of "Get the physical Trevor across the road unharmed".
- Are you all right, mister?
His ears heard a man's voice saying, and this time they decided to send the message to the brain. He opened his eyes and the iris did the same as the ears, this is what the message that the brain caught said: a man was leaning over Trevor. Black hair on a light bulb, which was attached by a thin neck to a skinny, almost tottering torso.
- Ah, do not worry. I am all right. In fact, I am getting quite used to this.
He said with a high-pitched, adolescent voice. He flipped himself over as if to make a push up, and he raised himself up with a little but needless help from his friend in white shirt and black tie
- And what do you mean by that. What Exactly is it that you are getting used to?
The man said with his head askew, looking like a bird. His nose was sharp as a razor and so Trevor dodged by reflex every time the stranger turned his head.
- "You" is the right word indeed, 'cos this is truly a case of accosting in plural. Y'know, you shouldn't listen to him; he is just upset because of me.
Trevor said, now with an ascendant nasal voice; scoffing at himself.
- Yeah? Well, I was here first wasn't I?
The high-pitched voice answered, and spat at his own feet; his eyes were bound with fury and they were literally burning with vehement.
- Nobody knows that!
The nasal voice answered with stoical eloquence, turning his unctuous head as he raised it snobbishly.
Trevor heard a strident noise of rubber working asphalt as the car kicked away, full speed. The argument that Trevor had with himself, was actually quite terrifying too watch for outside viewers; and so the driver had slowly backed away, with his hands flapping as if he was pushing himself back from the injured "men". When he reached a good, safe distance, he turned and made a run for it (his black Chev with silver framework, and an imprinted replica of Trevor's face wrought in the hood).
- What a runner! This is illegal. He could at least have had us taking a look at his ID.
Trevor said with a High-pitched, adolescent, nasal and ascendant voice; and raised his fist in anger at the disappearing black Chev.
- Shall we proceed then?
The suave, nasal voice asked as he put a monocle to his right eye.
- Ah! We are not wearing that... that thing! Don't even think about it!
The high-pitched voice screamed and broke like of a teenager's; making it sound more like "Deeoooiient even theeiiiink about eeiiit!".
- Hah! Well, I am going to wear it. And I happen to be YOU, physically at least, so tough luck, mister.
The ascendant, nasal voice answered as he put on a pair of white silk gloves and a satisfied countenance. But just the following second Trevor forced off the gloves, making the stitches burst. He took the monocle and threw it to the ground in glass crash of a thousand glimmering prisms – he then dropped the gloves on the asphalt and stepped on them with a twisting motion as if it was a roach. He then changed back into a rigorous self and shacked his head disapprovingly.
- Oh my, dear friend, was that really necessary?
The nasal voice said with his eyes closed, cross-armed.
- Now, let's proceed, please!
The high-pitched voice cried with the stubborn grin of a child that does not get it as it wants. He wanted to run from his suave self but that was impossible due to two simple but problematic points: 1. One cannot simply run from oneself, at least not physically. And number 2. One's other self would know about one's plans by simple introspection; after all, the several selves share the one brain. You cannot lie to yourself, you cannot keep anything from yourself and you cannot hide from yourself - Freud would probably have his objections to this, but Freud does not have a say in this story.
One of these two selves started to walk down the road towards Hassel's for a bite, and by the physical connection between this and his other self; he knew that the other self too was starving. Physical Trevor, on the other hand, did not move.
Something was holding him back, causing torpor, but I think we all know what. Trevor sighed.
- Just where are we going? I am not letting you decide!
A nasal voice sharply protested.
- Ah, Hassel's; and what are they serving today?
*More to come*
Short story by NDF
Read 797 times
Written on 2011-08-23 at 23:40
Tags Biography Feedback Story
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
