then he saw his face, now he's a believer.

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then he saw his face, now he's a believer.

Postby geroge » Sat Jul 31, 2010 12:19 pm

some shit i did for english, first a in english ever. don't point out the spelling mistakes, this was the draft, i can't find the final copy anywhere, so the ending isn't as cool as it is meant to be.

Allan is a believer.

Allan travels the land, following tales and rumours of miracles and sighting of Jesus in everyday items hoping some of the favour from Almighty God will rub off on him.

Allan showers in the dark on a soon to be sunny Tuesday morning. The luke warm water flows over his short, round, hairy body.

Allan turns off the water. For a moment he hears nothing but the echoing and dying sounds of the shower which is slowly replaced by the overbearing country music played by his neighbour, Jack.

Allan stands shaking.

Allan steps out of the shower, cursing Jack’s horrid choice of music.

Allan towels himself dry and dresses himself in his everyday attire.

Allan collects his Bible, maps and car keys, exits through his back door and climbs into his car

Allan looks at his map.

Allan checks the number one location – Cherry Hill.

Allan starts his car, a wise sounding voice comes through the radio, much better than Jack’s horrid country music.

Allan puts his car in gear and sets off. Eighty-six miles to Cherry Hill.

Allan often prides himself on being the first in the know when it comes to ‘Jesus Toast’ as the papers so rudely call it.

Allen never ceases to be amazed by these obvious signs from God.

Allan has, on many occasions found many of these signs himself.

Allan keeps a scrapbook full of his own sightings, as well as those of others.

Allan enjoys finding ones no one else can see.

Sometimes in the bushes, the way the light bounces off ponds, etc???? (This needs extension.)

Allan feels they are personal messages from God.

Allan is motivated to find as many of these as he can.

Allan feels God appreciates his efforts to find these things.

Allan feels that it is his own personal game with God.

Allan is the ultimate version of a Catholic Wally Watcher.

Seventy-six miles to Cherry Hill.

Allan turns up his wireless.

Allan knows most of the words to most of the few hymns played on his favourite station.

Allan mostly listens for the interesting talkback segments.

Allan enjoys listening to his favourite host question everything that he feels is wrong with society.

Sixty-six miles to Cherry Hill.

Allan notices a fine layer of mist which has now/not???? lifted as he drives onward. He thinks it feels heavenly.

Allan pauses at a T-intersection.

Allan releases the brake.

Allan accelerates.

Allan sees the truck materialise out of the mist.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lester is a truck driver.

Lester is paid to travel the land, delivering all odds and ends to here, there and everywhere.

Lester works nights.

Lester sleeps from ten to fifteen hundred hours.

Lester showers at eighteen hundred hours, sometimes it’s dark, sometimes it’s light.

Lester likes his showers hot. It fogs up the mirror.

Lester has self image issues.

Lester has blonde hair, reddish facial hair, and blue eyes.

Lester owns a twin cab utility truck, for when he sometimes sees his children. The rest of the time the three back seats hold his little esky, which he uses as a lunch box.

Lester starts it up-, waits for the glow plug???? and sets off for work.

Lester is informed by the radio that some more of that stupid ‘Jesus Toast’ has been found. This time in Cherry Hill.

Lester works in Cherry Hill.

Lester loathes Bev, the owner of the Cherry Hill ‘B&B’ and creator of the toast.

Lester loathes her for all the loons it will bring to the town, even if it’s only for a few days.

Lester arrives at the depot.

Lester’s truck is purple, her name is Bessie.

Lester loves Bessie.

Lester’s trip tonight involves three planned stops.

Lester is to deliver a shipment of frozen pizzas to Saratoga Springs.

Lester knows this route well, it’s a long trip.

Lester won’t get home until at least ten the next morning.

Bessie roars to life.

Four hundred miles to Saratoga Springs.

Lester is a smoker. It keeps him calm.

Lester’s dreams are small to keep him safe from disappointment.

Lester didn’t always want to be a truck driver.

Lester wanted to be a vet, but due to complications???? it never came to be.

Lester thinks life treats him poorly.

Three hundred miles to Saratoga Springs.

Lester likes his music short, fast and loud.

Lester listens to a small independent radio station.

Lester turns the music up.

Lester drives on.

Two hundred miles to go.

Lester usually feels tired by this time, but tonight he passes truck stop after truck stop.

Lester hates his job.

Lester passes a woman hitchhiking in the direction he’s come from.

One hundred miles.

Lester can’t get that stupid toast, which by tomorrow would be all over the news, out of his head.

Lester has never managed to see what’s so special about some burnt bread, some butter and an assortment of spread in the vague shape of some long haired two thousand and something year old hippie who was all against authority.

Lester once found a peanut that looked like a duck, but he hadn’t been on the news.

Saratoga Springs.

Lester arrives.

Bessie is unloaded.

Lester leaves, drives till he finds a rest area.

Lester’s second planned stop.

Lunch. After a few years the novelty of having lunch around midnight has worn off.

Lester eats three sandwiches, urinates and climbs back into Bessie.

Sleep. Scheduled sleep for about half an hour.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Phil drives a taxi cab.

Phil owns the service.

Phil’ Fab Cabs. A small service based in Cliffton, runs between Saragtoga Springs and Cherry Hill, a considerable distance for a small service owning only seven cabs.

Phil is a man of principle, which is why one night he stops to pick up a young woman on his way back from Saratoga Springs.

Phil sees her, hunched over, pathetic looking really, walking in the night rain in only a summer dress.

Phil is sure to stop a short distance from the woman. Safer to let her come to you.

Phil only had to learn this lesson once.

Phil hears, then sees, a large purple truck pass.

Phil steps out of the care and offers the woman a lift. She says her name is Sarah.

Sarah lives in Cherry Hill.

Two hundred and ninety-six miles to Cherry Hill.

Phil is glad he could help.

Sarah admits she hasn’t any money to pay Phil.

Phil explains that he was already going that way, and will accept nothing but a thanks and the knowledge that Sarah will get home safely.

Sarah is wary at first, but after the fight and her long day walking she is soon asleep.

Phil drives on.

Phil listens to ‘classic rock’. The bars on the stereo rise and fall, even with the volume turned off????

Phil is driving what he thinks of a ‘The Dead Zone’, the longest, driest and dullest straight stretch of road in the state.

One hundred and eighty miles to Cherry Hill.

Sarah sleeps on.

Phil has a son, a sister and a granddaughter.

Phil no longer works for the money.

Phil drives, they’re entering the worst part of the dead zone, the valley. It’s almost always full of mist.

The valley makes the home stretch into Cherry Hill.

Phil notices he’s caught up with the truck.

Sarah sits up.

They drive on.

Seventy miles to Cherry Hill.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lester is tired, he’ll be home in an hour.

Lester knows this.

Lester keeps going, peering through the fog.

Lester notices another car now, close behind.

Lester wishes they’d just over take.

Lester knows they won’t. There’s too much fog.

Sixty-seven miles to Cherry Hill.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Phil strikes up a conversation.

Sarah longs to be home.

Sixty-six miles to Cherry Hill.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lester sees to small car too late.

Lester doesn’t see the point in seat belts anymore????

Lester is thrown through the windshield.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Allan’s small care, with its biblical bumper stickers is crushed, and pushed three hundred feet down the road.

Allan’s head is crushed painlessly.

Allan would imagine this as a gift for his faith.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Phil sees the truck slow suddenly.

Phil swerves left onto the other side of the road. Heart racing.

Sarah sees the car being crushed by the purple hulk of the truck.

Sarah is reminded of a trash compactor.

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Postby geroge » Sat Jul 31, 2010 12:21 pm


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Postby Ashreal » Sun Aug 01, 2010 2:52 am

Si, me gosta
For those that fight for it, life has a flavour that the sheltered will never know.

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Postby Voly » Sun Aug 01, 2010 6:25 am

geroge wrote:COOL STORY, BRAH.

I see what you did there.
Astica wrote:That's probably the wankiest thing I've heard all day.

Elen wrote:If they were just bickering about politics, instead of indulging ERQ's passive-aggressive, self-aggrandizing fuckassery, then I wouldn't have a problem with it.

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Postby geroge » Mon Aug 02, 2010 2:07 pm

i just wanted to say that, it's the main reason i posted the story actually

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