Unfinished Story

[Krazor]

Hey, long time no post. So I’ve added a few more paragraphs since the last time I posted, and changed the words around in some places. I uploaded it to a site called jottify to try to get some feedback, but it was buried by emo poetry in like three seconds. If you’d like to read it and give some praise/criticism/bombs, please go here: https://jottify.com/works/vince-in-exile/.

Also, do you guys want to help me with the title? I can’t think of a good one. I’d appreciate it!

Inb4 “Faggots in Space”

[geekofalltrades]

@Krazor

“If this is your first time, we recommend GD-22,” smiled the nurse, daintily plucking a vial of reddish liquid from the glass display rack. The GD series was awful as a whole, but 22 was at least swallowable for the most part. Of course, you wouldn’t think that by looking at it. It had the consistency of- hell, it even looked just like nail polish. As to the smell, I don’t even care to speculate a reasonable comparison. And yet, there I was- slamming my last 150 down on the counter, grinning like an idiot. But I couldn’t help it. In the end, 150 was a small price to pay for a new life.

@Krazor

It was just a short drive from the Environmental Clinic to the shipyards in Krantz. Thanks to some old favors owed to me, I had managed to secure free transportation aboard a freighter bound for an obscure little speck of a planet called Rumar- the perfect place to evade military terms of service, debts to radical religious institutions, ex-wives, or in my my case, outstanding arrest warrants from certain Universal agencies. Though I was still in considerable danger, I couldn’t resist the seductive tug of cautious optimism that seized me as I finally spied the neon glow of the spaceport, just barely visible on the murky brown horizon. I was almost free.

@Krazor

I ditched my car just outside the perimeter of the immigration compound and walked the rest of the way. Doubtless, the guards would have by now been instructed to be on the lookout for Director Yale’s staff car. (As though the bullet holes in the passenger’s side door wouldn’t have aroused suspicion to begin with.) I tried to appear as calm as possible I wandered through the main lobby to the designated meeting place. I was right on schedule, but my contact was nowhere to be found. Five minutes passed like five hours as I stood uncomfortably amongst a surging crowd of transients shouting over eachother in a swirling cacophony of a hundred or more languages that, for all I knew, might as well have been alien. But apprehension quickly gave way to utter panic as out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of two figures in grey suits- the uniform of Universal Customs and Trade Agency officers- picking their way through the crowd. They were in a hurry. And they were coming right towards me.

There is a subtle art to not looking suspicious. An art I have proven myself incapable of time and again. You’re not supposed to make eye contact, while at the same time looking like you’re not trying to not make eye contact. In my alarm, I believe that I ended up staring, wild eyed, at their mouths. They were just about arms length from me now. I lost my composure, and threw my head forward, staring at my shoes. I shut my eyes tightly as I felt a strong hand grip my shoulder-

To me, the second excerpt sticks out. The first and the third sound to me like the properly bewildered, caught-up-and-tossed-about-in-the-current-of-events protagonist, while the second excerpt jumps to someone far more composed; someone who, in my mind, narrates his stream-of-consciousness in the voice of James Bond.

The story so far is intriguing, though. I might post some of my writing in this section; I’d never really considered it before.

[Krazor]

Thank you! This is the kind of stuff I’ve been looking for! I’m not looking to publish this stuff or anything. I just do it for fun, and to improve my writing skills, so this is much appreciated!

And please, feel free to post whatever you like in return.