The Novel - Another Tid Bit :) (Eugene, where are you?)

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The Novel - Another Tid Bit :) (Eugene, where are you?)

Postby Wall St. Peon on Wed Jan 15, 2003 3:56 am

Here's another part of the novel. I know I said I wouldn't post more, but I just thought I'd throw out a piece of the third chapter and see what response it elecits. :)

So, as you can see, my life has been very interesting. I murdered two people before I was even old enough to drive – and I got away with both crimes. It’s a strange thing, to be able to get away with murder, simply because of your age. The rest of high school was a battle for me; I had to battle the school, the system, and I had to battle the darkness. I pushed it back and was able to suppress it until college. And then it came back.

Girls liked me at college. I kept myself in shape, I was athletic, I was on the basketball team, I was handsome, I was intelligent as hell – the perfect guy. If these traits are coupled with the fact that girls are easy to manipulate, even more so for someone with a gift for words, and I was able to have my way with as many girls as I liked. It sufficed for my freshman year, fucking a different girl every other night, but my mental state changed the summer before my sophomore year; the darkness reappeared. I was glad to have it was back.

I had stayed at Cornell that summer so I could take classes and graduate early. I would still graduate with people of my class, but that was impressive since I was majoring in English and Psychology. In the beginning I had figured I would write self-help books, but as it turned out, I have forgotten the majority of the psychology that I learned. The English major turned out to be much more useful, and I’ve been able to write a few books – best sellers, actually. They were psychological thrillers, murderous books. It’s funny, really, that fans of my books will understand where I was able to pull the homicidal nightmares that were my books after reading my last book – funny because they’ll know now that I wrote from experience, not fantasy. I know what it’s like to snap a person’s neck, I know what it’s like to drown someone, I know what it’s like to shoot someone, I know how it feels to kill someone in cold blood, out of nothing but pure hatred.

Anyway, I was taking summer classes at Cornell and still getting laid just like I was during the school year. One night it changed; the girl I was fucking that night was very beautiful, very innocent (I was her first), and as I fucked her and ravaged her, making her moan in pleasure, I wanted to hear her scream, I deathly wanted to hear her cry in pain.
Her name was Britta Petral, from Wisconsin. She was a sweet farm girl, and she had never done anything remotely wrong in high school – the perfect All-American girl, and her she was, lewd as can be, moaning under a stranger’s weight as he thrust repeatedly into her. It’s ironic, and it makes me laugh, thinking about it now. But the animal lust that she had shown me made me want to kill her even more. I wanted to see her bleed – and I’m not talking about her virginity.

I didn’t do it that night. After dropping her off at her apartment the next morning, I promised to call her, I told her how wonderful she was, and I asked her if she would want to go to dinner sometime. Of course, she accepted; why wouldn’t she? I mean, it was me. I drove home and planned our date and her demise. I wouldn’t kill her on the date, but I’d kill her the next day. I couldn’t sleep with her, as the cops would trace that to me if there were any traces of sex. Or could I? Yes, I could fuck her if I wanted to, I had decided. I’d just have to wait a couple days. I figured I might as well get my rocks off…

The night of the date arrived, and after surprising her with roses, I took
her to the most expensive restaurant in town. I think I spent about seventy dollars that night at the restaurant, but money didn’t matter to me. After dinner, I took her on a stroll through a small park nearby and we necked on a bench. She expected me to take her back to my apartment, but I surprised her yet again with tickets to a musical that was being put on by the university. She was tickled to death (and she would be dead a few days later, this I knew), and we went to the musical and enjoyed ourselves. After that, I took her back to my apartment for some of the best sex I’ve had in my life. Again, I took her home the next morning and returned home to finish preparations.

I went shopping the next day for my needed supplies. First, I went to the mall. I bought a black Nike windsuit – it was cheap – and some new running shoes, also cheap. I also bought a hunting knife at Dunham’s; it was nine inches long, but it was still easily concealed. It was meant to skin small animals, such as rabbits. Next, I took the short walk to Wilson’s Leather and bought a cheap pair of gloves. I also bought some scented candles and a bottle of wine (I was never carded). Of course, I paid all cash for these items; there was no need for a paper trail, and I threw the receipts away as soon as I left the stores.

I returned home and made sure the gloves and knife were concealable within the windsuit; they were. I put the wine and candles in a paper bag. The rest of the night I spent combing through my hair and scrubbing my skin; there couldn’t be any trace of me within her apartment. My chances of being seen with her weren’t that great, either, as the neighboring apartments were both empty, and there were only three in her little wing of the complex. Depending on the time, I could enter through the back door and climb the stairs to her second floor apartment unseen.

I slept well that night. I went about the same procedure the next day, scrubbing my skin and body, removing all of my body hair – except that on my head, of course – and combing through my hair to remove any loose hairs. I applied lotion to my body in all places, smoothing the skin to perfection, removing any dryness from the shaving. I did that one more time before it was time to go visit Britta.

I parked my car two blocks away from her apartment and put my new running shoes on. I threw another set of clothes in the paper bag with the wine and candles and set off towards my destination.

The parking lot was empty and no one was around. I walked casually to the back door on Britta’s wing and opened it. The doors automatically locked in two minutes, and I had plenty of time. I subtly checked to make sure I was still alone, and I was, and I entered the building and ascended the stairs. Britta was a dead woman walking.

I knocked on the door and she opened it, surprised, but happy, to see me. She hugged me and invited me in, of course, and I said I had a surprise for her. I winked and told her to get naked for me and come into the bathroom when I called. She grinned happily, and I went to the bathroom to begin preparations. I put my clean, dry clothes in the linen closet. Then, I drew a bath and found some bubble bath in a cabinet, and I used a large amount of it in the warm water. Next, I placed the candles around the tub and on the sink and lit them. I carefully hid the knife next to the tub, under the paper bag. I opened the wine and called to Britta and told her to bring two glasses.

She walked into the bathroom and immediately was beaming. I could see her excitement grow as she walked into the room; she was already quite damp between the legs. I smiled and helped her into the tub, being ever so careful as to not knock over a candle or splash water. I poured the wine and gave it to her. She took a drink and beamed at me. I smiled back. After she finished her wine, I told her to close her eyes; I had a surprise for her. She did as she was told, and I slid the leather gloves from my pocket and quickly put them on. I moved the paper bag and told her she would get her surprise in a second. She smiled broadly, unknowingly, as my hands gripped the knife…

I slashed her throat away from me so the blood would splatter on the wall and not me. I made sure I severed her vocal cords so she could not scream, marveling at the sight of her panic. Her eyes opened and stared at me, not knowing what to do. She tried to grab me, but I had backed away, and she’d lost far too much blood to do much anyway. I stared at her, marveling at how panicked she was. I was smiling at her, smiling until she stopped moving; she was dead at age nineteen.
Shane
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Postby TheBob on Wed Jan 15, 2003 5:59 am

Thanks for giving us more Shane. I have a few uick comments about it though. This whole darkness thing is really annoying me, I don't believe you need to even give it a name, maybe just say something like "I had to battle it" as opposed to "I had to battle the darkness". Also I didn't like the fact that you put him on the basketball team, it doesn't seem to fit his character, he seems too antisocial and distant to be playing for a team. I also think he'd find it trivial playing on a basketball team seen as he's as smart as he is. At one point you wrote, "I was glad to have it was back.", I guess that was just a typo though. You also wrote, "funny because they’ll know now that I wrote from experience, not fantasy", I think "now know" sounds better. There are also a few parts that I thought were kinda corny for someone who's supposed to be a best selling author. A case in point, "I deathly wanted to hear her cry in pain", I just don't like that part, the deathly doesn't sound too great to me. "She was tickled to death (and she would be dead a few days later, this I knew)," I don't believe you need to emphasize on the killing anymore. That's all I've got for now. The story is good though, just a few things that I didn't like in it.
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Postby Wall St. Peon on Wed Jan 15, 2003 7:39 am

I haven't edited at all, which explains the typos (and that's what they are).

Yeah, I do get rather corny at parts...the death thing, now that I think about it, was a little overdone. The darkness will make sense at the end, trust me on that one...it's important. :) I'm going for literary, not commercial, with this, so images and repetition are important. In the end, this book will have more of a profound sense, as opposed to the typical murder novel.

Also I didn't like the fact that you put him on the basketball team, it doesn't seem to fit his character, he seems too antisocial and distant to be playing for a team. I also think he'd find it trivial playing on a basketball team seen as he's as smart as he is.


You made him antisocial, not me. He's far from it. Just because the typical serial killer or writer or killer is antisocial doesn't mean he is. Of course, you missed out on the entire second chapter as this is midway the third, but I'm just trying to incite interest. :)

Also, the basketball thing makes sense. When I'm talking about his high school days, he led his high school team to a state championship and was quite popular. He's not the typical jock; he's incredibly intelligent and very prolific with his words, so he finds it even easier to get girls (or did you miss the first paragraph? :))
Shane
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Postby TheBob on Wed Jan 15, 2003 8:40 am

ok cool, roughly how many pages have you got written so far?
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Postby Wall St. Peon on Wed Jan 15, 2003 8:54 am

Only about 35. *shrug* I haven't had time, classes just started, and I'm gonna have left. First day of one of my classes an 8 page paper was assigned that's due in a week...

But yeah, I'm working on it, and the writing should improve, as should the editing, as I'm taking a linguistics class and a fiction writing class.
Shane
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Postby Eugene on Wed Jan 15, 2003 1:35 pm

Sorry, Shane...

I've been here, finished editing your chapter a while back, and emailed to you on sunday... I sent it to your MSN address, I hope that wasn't a problem.

If you need me to send it to another address, let me know. I apologize for the misunderstanding.
The task of the artist is to translate for us the essence of things we take for granted.
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Postby Wall St. Peon on Wed Jan 15, 2003 2:05 pm

Eugene, I didn't get any emails from you. Could you send it again?

Thanks,

Shane
Shane
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Postby Eugene on Wed Jan 15, 2003 2:17 pm

no problem
The task of the artist is to translate for us the essence of things we take for granted.
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Postby Eugene on Wed Jan 15, 2003 2:37 pm

actually, there is a problem... I can't seem to send it to your hotmail address... perhaps another address?

let me know
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Postby Wall St. Peon on Wed Jan 15, 2003 3:22 pm

Shane
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