Jean Valjean

This is one of my favorite literary characters of all time and i did a character analysis from Les Miserables about him.

Jean-Valjean is perhaps one of the most heroic characters throughout all of literature. In Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables Jean-Valjean’s character goes through three decisive stages. We see Jean the convict, Jean the champion, and Jean the father. All three of these roles each play a huge part in Jean’s life and each come about and occur for different reasons. Each stage however is integral to the next as Jean continues his evolution as a person until his death. Without all three parts Jean would not be complete, each comes together to form him as a timeless hero.
Jean begins his story as a simple man trying to take care of his sister and her many children. At this point Jean has already begun to assume the roles of provider and leader. He has sacrificed his own interests or pursuits to do what he views as right, which is to make sure his family has food and shelter. Because they are very poor Jean struggles tenaciously to provide for his hungry family. Circumstances soon drive him to theft in order to obtain food for his family. This begins Jean’s life as a convict.
Despite Jean’s intentions which had no evil behind them whatsoever, he is still imprisoned and sentenced to the galleys. While in the galleys Jean tries to right his seemingly unjust situation by trying to escape numerous times. All end in failure and more years in prison. Jean is finally freed from prison after nineteen years of brutal hardship. His time in prison has molded his once simple kind character into a hateful, cold, resourceful, survivalist. Set loose back into the real world Jean is a person who trusts no one and is ready to explode in anger at the slightest provocation.
With this savage disposition Jean the convict will begin his transformation into Jean the champion. He stumbles across genuine kindness for the first time in nineteen years in the form of a gentle priest who offers Jean room and board for the night. Jean cannot believe that anyone would help a stranger for nothing in return, much less a dangerous criminal. However this priest gives jean a gift which he has never received, a genuine free gift of love. Initially Jean accepts the priest’s kindness with gratitude but then nineteen years of survival instincts kick in and Jean decides to take advantage of the priest’s trust and rob him in the night. It is at this point where Jean saw a new path he could have taken and instead he chose to remain Jean the convict. He is soon apprehended and brought back to the priest for questioning. The priest chooses to give Jean another chance at a new life from his criminal one. As the police question the priest, he tells them that the silver Jean stole had been a gift so Jean was no thief. Jean trembles with shame at the forgiveness and kindness in this old priest for a ruthless convict. The priest then gives him two more silver candlesticks and murmurs that Jean must promise to use this silver to become an honest man.
Jean is now faced with an important decision. He must now choose to leave his hateful criminal life behind and become an honest man or he can take his new wealth and continue down his vengeful convict lifestyle. As he ponders this decision on the road he encounters a young Savoyard who accidentally drops a coin at Jean’s feet. Jean instinctly places his foot on top of the coin still in a dazed state concerning how he will choose to direct the rest of his life. The boy pleads for his coin but Jean refuses to respond. In a ceremonial way as Jean sits on the ground pondering, the evil in him is seeping out in one last act of brutality. The boy walks off distraught and jean finally comes to his senses with a newly formed sense of purpose. He has decided to keep his promise to the priest and dedicate his life to becoming an honest man. However, much to his chagrin his last act of cruelty directed towards the young boy was the price he had to pay in order to overcome his indecision. It is at this point that he ceases to be Jean the convict and begins his life as Jean the champion.
As Jean begins down his new path he utilizes his wealth from the priest and his resourcefulness to integrate into society. He settles in a distant town and soon become known as a wealthy and honest man. He treats his workers with the upmost respect and all those around him cordially. He even gives money to all the Savoyards who come through town. His upstanding actions soon build him a reputation beyond question and the people clamor for him to become mayor. He refuses at first, but then accepts when one citizen challenges him by asking him if he is afraid of the good he could accomplish in such a position. Viewing the position as an opportunity to further keep his promise to the priest he readily accepts.
Jean has now become an entirely new person. Jean the convict is long dead. Jean the champion stands up for those who are weak and provides for those who are poor. He becomes a judge of sorts as townspeople come to him with their disputes looking for guidance. In a way he begins to become a Christly figure in his town as no fault can be found in him and he is kind and wise beyond compare.
Jean’s life as a champion of the people seems perfect and his transformation from criminal to honesty seems complete until an unfortunate situation occurs. A man named Champmathier is being brought to trial as Jean-Vealjean the dangerous convict. Jean knows that this man is being wrongfully accused since he is the real Jean-Vealjean. Jean is now faced with a moral dilemma. Will he sit by and do nothing, maintaining the serenity of his new life, or will he come to this poor man’s aid and risk losing everything he has gained materially. Jean chooses to turn himself in and save the innocent man in order to retain his now pure soul. By doing this Jean fills the role of Christ figure by laying down his life for an innocent man when he had no obligation to. Through these actions Jean once again comes to a new path in his life.
After admitting his true identity Jean is thrown into prison and Champmathier is freed. Resourceful as he is and armed with his pure character he soon escapes just happening to save a man’s life as he does so. His next actions after his escape are to find the helpless daughter of one of his deceased workers. He had made this promise to the woman before her sorrowful death. He rescues the girl, Cosette, from abusive caretakers and manages to avoid recapture using his resourcefulness gained during his life as Jean the convict. With the little girl in tow Jean begins his new life as Jean the father having sacrificed himself and his life as Jean the champion.
In his past life Jean had been a champion for all but he had never had one person in which to devote all of his care and protection. Now faced with an innocent young girl Jean’s pure, but rough exterior begins to melt. He finally has something to love. Never before in his harsh life has he had something or someone to love. It is at this point that Jean begins his transformation into a father figure. He now devotes his whole life and purpose to Cosette’s well being.
Jean is actually happy for the first time in his life. His only responsibility is looking after Cosette and that is what brings him the most joy. Cosette adores him as a father. This formidable figure had come into her life and rescued her and despite his large size he treats her with the upmost gentleness.
Jean raises Cosette as his own child and she soon begins to grow into a beautiful young lady. Up until this point Jean had had no real worry but now he sees that Cosette is not as happy as he is. She longs for a young man, Marius, who is also in love with her. Initially Jean views Marius as a threat to his happy life and is extremely upset. After reflecting on his feelings however Jean realizes that if he truly loves Cosette then her happiness should be his priority, no his own. Even though this wounds him deeply he once again sacrifices his best interests for another, Cosette. He even goes so far as to rescue Marius from certain death at the risk of his own life in order to preserve Cosette’s happiness. However he tells no one of his actions and bears his good deeds in silence. His character is so upright that he has not the slightest bit of pride to even spend on his own valiant actions.
After Jean plays a secret role in preserving Cosette and Marius’ happiness he then decides to exit their life after he sees them happily married. He feels that Cosette will be happier without her old dad and does not want to intrude on her happy life. Marius has always distrusted Jean and does so further when Jean comes to Marius and tells him of his past life as a convict. Jean does this because he feels it is the right thing to be honest to Marius. Marius accepts the information unhappily, still oblivious to the fact that he owes this legendary man his life.
Marius eventually discovers Jean’s secret years later. He and Cosette rush to find their ostracized father and discover him on his deathbed filled with sorrow that his Cosette has abandoned him. His whole world lights for one blinding flash of happiness when he sees Cosette and Marius have come to visit him one last time. Filled with peace that his daughter still loves him and that he did his best to keep his promise to the priest his light flashes out and he dies.
Jean-Vealjean is a truly heroic character. He goes through a metamorphosis that takes something ugly and turns it into something beautiful. He goes from a simple poor man driven to desperation, to a savage convict, to a champion of the people, and then ends his life as a loving father. After his radical change from convict to an honest man he maintains his promise to the priest and does everything in his power to be a good man. All of these stages in Jean’s life come together to form a Christ figure of epic proportions who continually sacrifices himself for the well being of others. All of these things truly earn Jean-Vealjean the title of a hero of the ages.

Social Media Revolution

This is an awesome video very similar to the one we watched in class. Enjoy!!!!!



PS: i couldnt get this link to hyperlink so copy and past the link below

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sIFYPQjYhv8

Favorite game currently

In reference to all of our discussion in class on military video games I figured that this post was necessary. I recently bought Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 and havnt been able to put it down. I dont know how many others in the class are afflicted with this brutal disease but i am literally crippled. My hands are cramping from chasing one more kill at 4am lol. I havnt even beated the story mode yet because the online multiplayer is so addictive. My favorite guns going by class are:
Assault Rifle=ACR
Sub-Machine Gun=P90
Light-Machine Gun=HK MG4
Sniper Rifle=50 cal
Secondary=Raffica
Equipment=claymore
Perkwise i really like last stand, scavenger, and cold blooded. The addictive quality of this game is amazing. Ive even stopped playing WOW lol (only temporarily tho). I highly reccomend this game for any shooter fans.

King of the Bingo Game

I recently read the short story “King of the Bingo Game” by Ralph Ellison and found it a very interesting tale. It was a very dark and dingy world in which to enter but that atmosphere fit the story well. I enjoyed the way in which Ellison really made everything feel alive. I think Ellison’s use of narrative voice and perspective throughout the story was its true strength. It served to convey the intensity of the hero’s plight and made all of the stories elements that much more vibrant. I saw some striking similarities to other authors I have read before, notably Faulkner. I have never read Ellison before so don’t have a firm grasp on his writing style but from what I observed he used the point of view to really cement his story’s effectiveness with a few strengths and weaknesses.
Ellison uses a third-person limited perspective throughout the story and it creates a very unique effect. The reader is openly shown the thoughts of the hero (who remains nameless throughout) as they are happening and explanation of the thoughts is nonexistent. In other words the reader is left to piece together information and clues about the story from the protagonist’s thoughts alone. Ellison is not going to tell you what is going on he is just going show you what his hero is thinking. A good example of this comes right after our hero takes a large swig of whiskey,
“For Laura, though, he had to have faith. He studied the cards, each with its different numerals, punching the free center hole in each and spreading them neatly across his lap; and when the lights faded he sat slouched in his seat so that he could look from his cards to the bingo wheel with but a quick shifting of his eyes.” (Ellison 294)
This passage tells the reader that the hero is obviously trying to accomplish a goal for Laura, whoever she may be, and that these cards play an important role in his plans which might have a dishonest bent to them, thus the shifty eyes. All of these things have to be deduced from the hero’s thoughts because they aren’t given directly. This use of perspective becomes the glue that holds “King of the Bingo Game” together and gives it its vigor.
This narrative choice serves to add a strong sense of realism to the story because it shows how someone’s thoughts might really look in reality instead of in a story. If somebody truly had the ability to hear peoples’ thoughts they would not receive orderly and detailed descriptions. They would hear a jumbled mess of murmurings, mutterings, and incomplete sentences. Only the owner of the thoughts would truly understand how all of the little fragments flying through his mind actually fit together. However, viewing things in this fashion creates a very new and interesting way of looking at things in a short story. This realistic effect is one of “King of the Bingo Game” ’s strengths.
The choice of perspective also brings other positive attributes because now that the reader is immersed in such a realistic way it serves to make the emotions and feelings of the hero all the more potent. For example after the hero begins to anger the audience with his extended pressing of the bingo button he begins to shout,
“‘Live, Laura, baby. I got holt of it now, sugar. Live!’
He screamed it, tears streaming down his face. ‘I got nobody but YOU!’
The screams tore from his very guts.” (Ellison 297)

Since the reader has been in the hero’s mind the entire story the emotion and meaning in this scene is much more impactful than a simple description of a person yelling on a stage would have ever been. The reader has constantly seen the hero’s desperate thoughts concerning Laura’s well being and so this scene shows his desperate love and hope in an extremely vivid fashion because of the viewpoint throughout the story.
This effect shows up numerous times in the story. It conveys the hero’s desperation in the bleak world around him, his hope in the bingo cards, his love for Laura, his hate for the crowd, and even his relief when he sees he won the bingo game despite the fact that he wont ever get his reward. All of these extremely emotional points in the story are given their magnitude and vivacity because of Ellison’s perspective choice. It shows the hero’s thoughts as they are being formed and put into action because of the emotions he is experiencing.
Ellison’s narrative voice in the King of the Bingo Game reminded me of some other works I have read. In particular I found the story similar in style to a lot of Faulkner’s works. Faulkner is a big fan of exposing the reader to the minds of his characters and I noticed some striking similarities between him and Ellison. Although Faulkner commonly uses first person in most of his works he seems to always present the reader with the minds of his characters and leave the interpretation of what happens up to the reader. He is a very brutal author in the fact that he does not leave many direct clues, if any, about what is happening. I found Ellison’s technique very similar. He showed the readers the mind of his character and left the majority of everything else up to the interpretation of the reader. I feel that the perspective use by both authors in their works, although my experience with Ellison is limited, is definitely one of their writing strengths. The fact that Ellison work caused me to think of his similarity to Faulkner raised my opinion of him as an author and I think his unique attempt should be acknowledged for its cleverness.
Although I enjoyed King of the Bingo Game and think that its narrative style is its strength, I also found that exact thing to be its only negative point, if any. This raw viewpoint into the hero’s mind brings with it confusion and a sense of chaos to the narrative that can be difficult to follow. At one point the protagonist is watching a film and then something happens quickly and he is walking by train tracks and white people begin laughing at him and he begins screaming and running. Passages like this where things change quickly and confusingly make the story as a whole a bit difficult to follow. If you pay close attention you can eventually figure out what is going on but to do this you have to view what you are reading as naked thoughts and not simple narrative. In the previously mentioned example the reader is able to eventually deduce that the hero is having some kind of nightmare. Once this has been deduced and understood then Ellison’s cleverness is seen. He managed to show the reader how a dream would look if you were looking into someone’s thoughts. That shift in a person’s mind would obviously be a bit confusing. Ellison definitely manages to convey the confusion and randomness of a dream in his protagonist’s mind. The story’s chaos is a weak point but that is understandably unavoidable due to the perspective choice by Ellison.
The narrative style in King of the Bingo Game gives the reader a fresh look on a situation. It helps make the hero’s bleak world seem all the more dangerous and forlorn which add to its realism. This point of view also serves to magnify all the emotions and tensions that occur with the hero throughout the story. It also brings up the thought provoking idea of how a person’s thoughts would be organized in actuality. They would not simply appear as a neat list of details and explanations and mental footnotes. This perspective use also gives Ellison some comparison to other authors who have used similar techniques for success in literature, like Faulkner. With that choice however comes confusing and chaotic narrative which is a price worth paying. Ellison’s unique perspective ultimately serves to make his entire story’s emotions, characters, and events feel very alive and express their significance in a powerful and unique style.

predator

preface: a very old short story of mine. lol bear with the simplicity it was a writing experiment in which i had to create a story with a wide range of unconnected plot elements

Jake woke to the sound of the Great Clock ringing loud throughout the underground city. He was late! He sprang out of bed and quickly shoved on his boots. He quickly put on a shirt and threw on his dino-hide jacket. He should have met Lightfoot on the surface fifteen minutes ago. He strapped his rifle to his back and grabbed a Viva apple on his way out the door. As he stepped into street he placed his cowboy hat onto his head and his senses were soon jerked from their former sleepy state.
The dimly lit streets were teeming with people, shopkeepers, bartenders, and countless work crews constructing numerous buildings all making an abundant amount of noise. He made his way towards the stables at a steady trot while chomping on his apple. As he made his way through the streets he saw Bill’s bar table overflowing with business on the side of the street. Bill looked up and gave a slight wave to Jake as he passed even though he was serving three or four thirsty customers at the same time.
He was just finishing his apple as he came up to the stables. He entered the building through a weary looking door and held up his hunter’s badge to a ancient looking stable keeper who gave a slight nod as Jake made his way to the stalls. No sooner had he stepped into the large barnyard area, loud screeches assailed him from all sides. All of the velociraptors were eager to be chosen for a hunt. He walked up to an orange and purple raptor and held his hand under the beast’s nose. After a curious but approving sniff the raptor kneeled down and Jake threw a saddle on it’s back. The screeching grudgingly died down as Jake mounted the creature, today’s steed had been chosen, the others would have to wait until next time. Jake quickly prodded the beast out of the stalls and towards the exit into the street.
After rejoining the mass of life in the streets Jake directed the raptor to the northern part of the city. They crossed the distance quickly and soon came to a large clearing in front of an even larger wall on the side of the giant cave which the entire city resided in. The wall was covered with enormous paintings, at least four or five times taller than the average man. Each painting depicted startlingly realistic vistas of cloudy forests, plains, mountains, and even some of strange and foreign worlds. Even more shocking than the strange paintings was the fact that people were entering and exiting through them! A man in full space gear exited one of the more exotic looking paintings just as a woman exited a painting of a pond carrying a basket load of fish. Jake led his raptor along the paintings until he found one of a cloudy plain lying before an enormous forest. Without hesitation he prodded the raptor towards and into the painting.
After moment’s disorientation Jake emerged onto the depicted plain atop his steed.
“About time!” yelled a playful voice from above.
Jake looked up ruefully and saw his friend and hunting partner, Lightfoot atop a graceful Teradactyl. Lightfoot was much darker skinned than Jake and was only wearing the long leather pants that were traditional among his Indian brethren. Jake gave Lightfoot a sheepish shrug and turned his multi-colored raptor towards the large forest. Lightfoot swooped down to Jake’s level and they began to cross the plain quickly.
“I heard that it attacked another harvesting party last night,” Lightfoot remarked.
“Well hopefully it won’t be able to do that much longer”
“Only one of the harvesters made it back and none of the Viva fruit was collected. Our supplies in the tree cities are nearly as diminished as those in the underground cities. If these raids don’t stop…”
“Where exactly was the Harvesting party attacked?”
“About a quarter mile into the great forest, near the fourth Viva patch.”
“Let’s head there and follow his trail.”
Jake and Lightfoot entered the forest on their separate beasts surrounded by massive trees that reached high into the sky and were as wide as houses. Following Lightfoot’s directions they soon found themselves at a large Viva patch that had been totally ravaged. The plants were ripped out of the ground, smashed and spoiled fruit lay everywhere, and what was left of the harvesting party was strew everywhere. It was a revolting sight. After taking in the destruction, Jake slid to the ground and pulled out a pair of spectacles from one of his coats many pockets. After putting the eyeglasses on the scene around him changed: Everything was portrayed in vivid shades of red, blue, orange, and green. He quickly located a trail of red leading off into the underbrush.
“That way.” Jake pointed as he quickly remounted his raptor.
Lightfoot followed Jake as the rapidly entered the dark underbrush under the eternally cloudy sky, and the shadowy canopy of leaves that towered above them. Traces of the party’s obviously enormous attacker could be seen everywhere: crushed undergrowth, snapped logs, deep ruts in the damp earth, and the continual presence of random puddles of blood.
Jake took off his glasses and slowly adjusted his eyes back to reality. He withdrew his rifle and motioned to Lightfoot. Lightfoot stealthily withdrew a jet-black bow and cocked a deadly looking arrow on its string. He then silently rose atop his winged mount and began to circle overhead. Jake crept along slowly with his rifle tightly pressed to his shoulder. The raptor’s muscles were tense under his thighs, the air around them was still and the inherent noises of the forest began to die away. The mounts and their riders all looked around eagerly, anticipating their prey.
A guttural snarl slowly rose in volume from the cover of one of the colossal trees. Both pairs of hunters shifted their aim from tree to tree with adrenaline charged reflexes. With a hellish roar an enormous four-legged beast sprang from behind a tree! The cat-like creature was the size of a triceratops, and had talons as big as a small man. With its blood stained fangs bared menacingly, the creature made its way towards Jake in one effortless leap. With hardened nerves Jake fired an arc of lightning into the monster’s shoulder as he leapt off his raptor’s back and hurtled into the nearby brush. The raptor dashed the other direction and the monster landed where Jake had been with a painful and enraged howl. Jake quickly took aim again but was knocked aside by an unseen blow and his shot crackled off harmlessly into the woods. Turning to face his new assailant, he saw a pair of gleaming eyes identical to those of the previous beast. There were two of them! The beast looked down into Jake’s eyes with an evil satisfaction, ready to strike. Thud! The beast’s eyes rolled back and it toppled to the side with a gleaming arrow embedded into its skull.
Lightfoot swooped over Jake and turned to locate the original predator. It was stalking Jake’s former mount getting more and more frustrated as it failed to catch the smaller but more agile raptor. The raptor veered close to snap at the fiend’s side, but it found itself caught in the creature’s unrelenting claws. With one chomp, the raptor was shred into two. Lightfoot restrung his bow and swooped in for a shot at the creature. Jake also had regained his bearings and was sprinting towards the monstrosity. Feigning ignorance the beast pretended to ignore the hunters’ approach.
In one swift movement the predator whipped around and flung part of the raptor at Lightfoot with a chilling roar. The carcass hit Lightfoot dead-on and flung him from his Teradactyl with a loud thud. He landed senseless several meters away with the raptor carcass on top of him and his bow and arrows fell scattered on the forest floor. Seeing all of this, Jake leapt into the clearing fired two bolts at the monster in a fit of rage. The bolts struck the beast in the side but did more to anger it than to actually hurt it. It turned its crazed eyes on Jake and advanced at an inhuman speed. Jake kneeled and began to unload his rifle’s electric payload without hesitation. The deadly arcs slowed the beast but it continued to charge towards Jake. Jake’s rifle charge was almost out and he knew he only had a few shots left. He took aim at the monster’s eyes and focused all of his skill into his last few shots. Two shots missed, but the third found its mark. The beast howled in unbearable pain as the bolt seared out one of its eyes but closed the distance between its attacker with one last mad leap. As the beast landed over Jake it knocked his rifle loose and it clattered away uselessly. As Jake stared into the beast’s dripping jaws he clutched the ground helplessly.
His hands fumbled upon a long slender shaft with an extremely sharp tip. It was one of Lightfoot’s arrows! He grasped the arrow with an iron grip and thrust upward into the monster’s heart with all of his strength. The beast stiffened and a trickle of blood began to pour from the creature’s large jaws. The beast crumpled on top of Jake and was no more.
Jake wriggled out of the beast’s deathly embrace and tears of relief rolled down his face as he rapidly made his way to Lightfoot. He dragged what was left of his mount off of Lightfoot and checked his friend’s pulse. He was still alive! Suddenly he heard a loud screech; it was Lightfoot’s Teradactyl! They had defeated the predators. The fruit shortage would end. And they were going to make it home in one piece.

traveler

preface: another short story

The sun bore down on the stranger’s back with an unbending glare. Despite the bitter rays the man kept his steady pace without faltering. Sweat trickled down his hard face in small grimy rivulets. His long cloak seemed to spread as much dust into the air as his boots did striking the dry road. His face remained hidden behind a deep hood and he seemed to be moving with extreme purpose but in no particular direction at the same time. The sky gave off a blood red glow with scattered clouds of smog unnatural with darkness in the bleak horizon. All around him nothing moved but small bursts of dust. His head remained focused on the ground and small patches of blood could be seen passing under his feet as he walked onward.
Approaching from the west a vehicle was moving fast and headed to intercept the path of the hooded figure. Without breaking his stride in the least the man calmly withdrew long slender firearm from within the depths of his cloak and aimed towards the vehicle. With a small click that seemed to echo in the desolate wasteland, a flash leapt from the strangers hands and hit the vehicle with a resounding sound of tearing metal. The gasoline tank burst in a orgasm of dark orange and black as the vehicle was strewn about its former path in a ruthless fashion.
The man replaced his sidearm and returned his attention to his unwavering march forward. After a few more hours he came to a hill which only served to quicken his pace. As he sprang up the incline with unknown energy he crested the summit and surveyed his surroundings quickly. A small encampment lay in a crater-like valley, probably formed from some long forgotten blast. Sentries walked its perimeter with unenthused interest, only five or so on watch, clearly not worried about any threat. If they only knew what was in store for them.
The traveler once again reached in his cloak and withdrew a spherical object which he tossed lightly in one hand. He gauged the distance from the hill to the camp, about 60 or 80 yards. He withdrew a circle of metal from the sphere with a grinding noise and hurled it past the sentries heads with ease. He then broke into a full sprint down the hill while putting a thick revolver in one hand and a large knife in the other. The sentries finally noticed his presence but before they could react a huge explosion from behind them knocked them towards their assailant. He quickly fired off 5 unfaltering shots and then crept into the shadows of a nearby tent.
He waited calmly for a handful of tense seconds and then suddenly another sentry burst out of hiding and fired blindly where the stranger had formely been. The traveler raised his hand and shot the sentry in the head. He replaced the spent weapon within his cavernous garment and started to search the tents quickly an silently.
In the first tent he found four captives, slaves to their former masters. He quickly released their bonds with his knife and herded them to the center of the camp. They looked at him in fear and confusion. Was this a savior or merely a new master? Without muttering a single word he quickly gathered the weapons of his fallen foes and laid them in pile at the feet of the freed slaves. Knife still in hand he made to walk away but then quickly spun back around and threw the blade into the forehead of one of the more fit slaves. He strode towards the corpse and withdrew his blade and then ripped the slave’s tattered garments off to reveal another slaver, the leader according to the quality of his garments. He tore off a ranking insignia and placed it in his cloak along with his other secrets. He then tipped his knife to the dumbfounded slaves and wiped the blood from the blade with his hands and walked away towards the next hill with blood dripping from his fingers.

lost

preface: this is a short story i wrote. enjoy

He felt lost. He hadn’t known what to do for some time now. Everything he tried seemed pointless. He kept going on though. He knew giving up wasn’t an option. He had to work, eat, and go to school. That’s just what people did. The inescapable cycle. Work hard, go to school, get educated, get a job, make money, start a family, make a difference. That’s what everyone has to do right? Or is there another option?
He had no real family anymore. His parents only looked at him with disappointment and mouths full of condemnation and sermons. His grandparents still loved him but he was no longer the adorable grandson. His siblings still looked up at him in awe and admiration but it was more out of infamy now. Nothing had been the same since he’d gone to jail.
Boy had that ever been a changing point. But where had things really started changing? High school? Earlier? It probably started with fighting with his father. They never got along. Dad was right he was wrong. “You don’t work you don’t eat.”
Sports, books, games seemed to be the only escape from reality during that period, maybe they still were the answer. When he finally planned the ultimate escape, boy that was a shocker. “I move out in a week.” The look on his father’s face had been one of utter shock. That brought things into perspective for dad and he backed way down in order to convince his son to stay at home without anymore iron fist rules.
Then there had been the girl. She was something new. He’d never been close to anyone and didn’t plan on it. She was just part of what people did, had relationships. Of course time turns normal relationships into serious ones and that ended up happening. Those had been two amazing years. To bad they didn’t end up lasting.
Somewhere in there he bought his first hov, a transport class with plenty of storage for working equipment or moving space. He paid for it with all of his own money too. His dad constantly reminded him that that was what he had done at his age so that would be how he would do it too. Boy he had been proud of that vehicle. All his friends got theirs way before he did but of course their parents had bought them, they didn’t work their asses off for them. He had to earn everything he needed and anything he wanted.
After high school and his moving out threat, he bided time before finding a college to go to. He wasn’t to worried about it though and didn’t apply to any schools until much later than he should have. He wanted to go off planet very badly, he couldn’t stand his dad any more. A few weeks later he found out he got in to Serenity University in the gateway cluster on a full ride. Now his dad wouldn’t have any hold on him at all. He had been working and saving money since he was ten or earlier and now he had a shcolarship so his dad wasn’t a factor anymore.
After he finally got off planet he found decent enough side jobs to pay the rent and such but independence was a costly luxury. A few years of school went by and then he crashed his hov and shattered both shoulders. His health insurance covered the bio implant replacements but his transportation was gone. Lucky he lived next to the school or he would have been without alternatives.
He broke up with his high school sweetheart soon after, they had been arguing for a long while now. Mostly about trust issues or the use of alterers. Her brother had been a big time distributor and had the feds after him and shit. His former affection faded and he ended it. No point in lying. Lying was something he always detested. He didn’t associate with liars. Honesty, responsibility, hard work, and decent ethics were high on his list.
Although he broke off the relationship he found it extremely painful to lose that two year companion. Drinking started in full force that winter. Alcoholism soon set in. It seemed like the answer at the time. Drink the night away, fuck a bitch, do it again. Fuck relationships. Was this the way? Had he found his purpose? Guess not because that’s when he got arrested. So much for finding the way. A big party with bitches booze and lots of noise. Straight to the slammer. Underage drinking was not tolerated in the gateway cluster. Had to be at least 22. He was nineteen at the time. His family soon disowned him in every way but the actual technicality.
Here he was in trouble with the law, no hov, no girl to love, no family, questionable solidity of his full ride due to too much drinking, where did he go from here? That elusive question always came back to haunt him when his previous solution turned out to be a falsehood. Why was he here? What was he supposed to do? He figured one day he would change the world somehow but that day wasn’t now so what was the point?
He celebrated getting bailed out of jail by his friends by getting a fake id, joining a gang, and drinking more heavily. He was the top party boy. He drank the most, got the most bitches, threw the best parties, he was the party god. He survived this way because he was smart enough to keep his grades afloat and function hung-over at work without to much danger of getting fired. The money was dwindling though, especially when you went through 30 beers in a night (at least).
At that point he was twenty and sick of the campus security raiding the dorms in search of those “harmful underage drinkers” who were “destroying society” everywhere in the galaxy. He moved closer to the heart of the city into a large 4 bedroom condo, not fancy but spacious and cheap enough. He had roommates who had been good friends since freshman year. They were all experimental and held the law in very low esteem. Fuck the police. He wasn’t big on leaf but all his roommates were big leaf heads. The condo was never haze free.
Then Ian showed up. One of those guys who made you feel like he really could relate to whatever you had to say and always listened regardless of how boring you sounded. He had roomed with Big Bill, one of the other 3 roommates, freshman year and was in between residences and ended up on their couch for an indefinite period. He was of ethnic descent, olive skinned with Arabic features, but with enough lack of distinction that allowed him to manage to pass as nearly anything. Although he was technically imposing it wasn’t like that. His presence was always welcome and they wouldn’t have had it any other way. Jokingly he was called “couch guy”, one of those drifter types.
Anyway it was Ian who introduced them to the world of more exotic alterers. He was a fairly resourceful distributor and fit right in with the “open” minds of the group. He showed them the melted world of fungi, the orgasmic realm of happy skittles and a whole new realm of people that operated on a different plane of society.
Although he still felt very lost, Ian cleared some of the fog to open new paths. Those months were eye opening to say the least. He looked at everyone in a new light. Where he would had previously said “fuck off” he now gave everyone the benefit of the doubt and tried to always see the best in anyone. Alcohol lost its grip on his soul and the pain of lost love faded. He came to terms with the fact that love was probably something he would never have again and he was fine with that. However, he had no idea how many colorful people were going to begin to populate his circles.
One night at the condo while Ian was busy “distributing” with motley types of all shapes and sizes a fair sized group begin to accidently gather at the condo happy. All the elements for a party were in place: people, alterers, and a distributor. How could you not have a party? This unplanned event seemed small and inconsequential at the time. Just another page in the story of his life for him. Some goofy types, Ian, some lesbians (very attractive though), a beautiful exotic looking girl, a black kid, and Big Bill. As the hours of mind-“altering” fun ensued and everyone’s’ eyesight began to lapse out of control with color and pleasure he couldn’t stop staring at the exotic, olive skinned girl. Her hair kept covering one eye and she would look up and meet his gaze with the other in a shy way that exuded sexuality. Basically a master of the “Fuck me eyes”. They ended up together that night in a situation that both of them had been in a million times before but something was different. The morning after turned into “The two days after” because she didn’t leave and he didn’t want her to. Something was happening but neither one expected anything consequential.
As this relationship grew over the next few weeks he kept looking for a new hov and a way to pay for it. Providence came along in an unexpected turn of events when Ian announced he was going out of the gateway cluster to a new university. This was somber news because nobody wanted to lose the “couch guy” who had grown so dear to all of their hearts with his constant friendship and freely given cancer sticks (he offered one at least every ten minutes, and all the roommates stopped buying any for themselves). Due to his leaving he offered him the chance to take over his “distributing” position since it would be a shame to waste all of the contacts he had made over the recent years.
Although it was a dangerous venture he accepted with much more desperation than caution. His “training for the new part time job opportunity began and Ian imparted as much of his skills as he could but most of them would have to be gotten by experience. He began to take over the reigns and soon enough his income was steadily supplemented. Ian soon left, much to the chagrin of all, but always remained in close contact with them.
He grew closer and closer to the exotic girl until an important but scary point in any relationship began to draw close. At this point he had a dangerous but steady income, someone he was seriously pursuing, an education still being received on the backside, his gang (interest there was lagging however with the colorful new world and options he had to explore), but still no solid direction or a hov.
He eventually managed to save enough for a sporty new hov cycle and was mobile again for the first time in nearly a year. This brightened his lost spirits immensely but his main questions remained: how serious was this relationship becoming? Could he find happiness with someone again? And perhaps how was he going to make an impact on the world.
None of these things were made clear until one monumental night. The newest alterer on the streets was something called burst and it was supposed to be the most spiritual experience possible. The girl surprised him and got a dose for both of them and they planned a night of it.
It was the most mind blowing thing he had ever experienced or ever would. It shattered his mind apart then left him to piece it back together with whatever pieces were actually important. His saw his life as merely a spiral of pointless actions that needed to be anchored by some purpose or reference point. His friend Denim described it this way, “it is only after you lose everything that you are free to do anything.” He realized that alterers, alcohol, one night stands, media, were all ultimately pointless. Ultimately everyone has to have a purpose or their life means nothing. He looked into her eyes that night and without any more doubt, said the three words he had only said once before and he truly meant them. She looked back and said them with the most pure sincerity. He realized that what he had been looking for was love and without it nobody has a meaning, they are all lost. Everyone is searching until they find it. All actions hinge off of that quest. When it is finally achieved then you are free to do amazing things and change the world. It is only after you lose yourself fully by completely offering yourself to someone else that you are free to do anything at all. He looked at her face which was a myriad swirl of rainbow colors brightly flashing red, gold, purple, green, blue, and he knew he had found the way.