Exile

[Walrus]

I started this freshman year, and I've been picking it up again and again. I can't seem to finish it, but maybe I can now.

ONE

I

The freight car followed the contours of the track, along the snowy countryside.
Inside, the shadowy figure, Emmanuel, jostled with the subtle movements of the car. He could recall the origin of his venture now.
Emmanuel had been a highly respected member of his country’s government. Despite his importance, his superiors had never really had a title for him. But he was an integral part of the operation. Emmanuel was the patsy. But the difference between Emmanuel and other patsies was that he knew it. He needn’t be told of his use, he had a fairly good idea.

II

His endeavor began much like a stereotypical novel. The sun was pushed back in the sky behind the clouds, still leaving enough light to glint off the crust on the snow. Half buried in the snow, Emmanuel’s house was emitting puffs of smoke from the chimney.
Within the hut, Emmanuel sat on the couch watching TV. Soon the afternoon grew into night, and Emmanuel’s gaze to the TV became a stare that included everything around the TV, except the set itself. From that stare stemmed a flicker of happiness.
Sure, he was lazy, but it was because of his fear of failure. As a child, he was told that he would never amount to anything. But his parents, teachers and friends were about to be proven wrong.

III

The door was blasted off of its flimsy hinges when two muscular FBI agents thundered into the room, much like the freight train Emmanuel would be on later. Emmanuel was startled, and even let out a high-pitched scream, although he would’ve denied it.
In his gravely, mind washed voice, one of the agents spoke, while Emmanuel finally focused his attention on him, “You have won the lottery, sir.”
“Finally something I’m interested in!” Emmanuel said, obviously enthused, and not realizing the danger.
“Well, I don’t think you get it,” said the agent who up until now had said nothing. “You see, the kinda lottery you won isn’t really good.” He produced a smug smile, showcasing his yellow, crooked teeth, in a seemingly obnoxious manner. Even Emmanuel was astounded at the stupidity displayed here.
“Based on a random countrywide.. eh... lottery,” said the first agent again, smiling after the word 'lottery.' “Well, you have been chosen to commit a crime, that’s as best as I can put it.”
“Basically, you’re the president’s scapegoat,” the second joined in now, “the president has committed a crime, and, really, you’re going to confess to have done it.”
“What if—” Emmanuel began.
“What if you don’t want to?” the first agent finished for Emmanuel.
“Yeah. What if I, uh, don’t feel like it? Y’know, this isn’t on my agenda,” Emmanuel said, not really committing to the idea. And, simultaneously, scratching his crotch.
“You will do it. Or you’ll be shot. Dead.” Upon uttering the last word, the first guard, which Emmanuel had noticed wasn’t wearing a hat, chuckled.
“I’ll just do it later, I’m not in the mood,” Emmanuel mumbled, with the word “I’m” punctuated with a thumb against his chest.
The two FBI agents exchanged looks, and the hatless one said, “We can do this the hard way, or the easy way, Emmanuel.” The agent with the hat advanced on him, and with a loud, resounding clunk, Emmanuel fell to the floor.


Footnotes:

More on this tomorrow. It does get better. This is the section I wrote freshman year. I know it doesn't make any sense now. Just hold on. It details the train ride. The part about the lottery is him remembering what happened.

[Gruntling]

I never knew you were the creative type, Wario... Exile looks promising. Hopefully you'll finish it.

[xxx]

Oh, very creative writing, Wario! Very well done .
<3 x

[pinkbull]

Heheheheh. What was that on Gabbly about all fan-fics being crap? Well good to see your opening up Now you might want to read mine...

[Walrus]

Originally Posted by pinkbull

Heheheheh. What was that on Gabbly about all fan-fics being crap? Well good to see your opening up Now you might want to read mine...

It's not really a fanfic, just a short story I started a long while ago. I've been reading through the rest of it, and it seems to get better-written as it goes through. I'll post the next section before I go to work tomorrow. So around noon to 4 PM EST.

And sure, I'll read yours. I did start readins RWPHS, after all.


I lied. Here's another part:

IV

When he woke up, Emmanuel was on the train. He had no idea where he was going, nor did he care. Slumped over in a shadowy pile, Emmanuel fell asleep every few minutes, every time being shocked back to reality, like a cruel sleep-preventing perpetual motion device.
Emmanuel felt a crumpled piece of paper in his pocket, reached in, pulled it out, and uncrinckled it. He remembered when he had wrote it. It was a letter to his family that he wrote on a dilapidated typewriter that stayed in his house. It was missing the letters “s,” and “u” and, thus, it didn’t quite read correctly.
He read it aloud, as if to recall its full circumstance.
It sounded so stupid to him now, which is why he didn’t send it to them. If they thought he was indifferent and slow before, that letter would force them to renounce his ever existing.
But now, Emmanuel’s attention shot across the freight car’s interior, until it came to the door. The heavy, wooden door was on a rusty track, and locked with a massive padlock.
Emmanuel produced a lighter, and his unsent letter. If he was going to get out, he would have to do it now. He took the lighter, lit the paper, and pressed the letter against the door. It quickly went up in flames, making Emmanuel think it was gasoline-soaked.
Once the flames spread to the rest of the freight car, Emmanuel began to panic. But once the roof and walls fell outward in some display of sheer luck, his fears were subdued. He sprang into action, jumping out of the car, looking back at it, falling for a dangerous amount of time. When he looked back, laughing maniacally, he saw he had jumped off of a bridge.
“What a fine time to jump out. If only I’d waited.” Emmanuel’s head ran with threads of thoughts.
Emmanuel fell into ice cold water, loosing precious air in his screams. Before he passed out, Emmanuel thought he saw the train making an attempt at stopping its barreling movement.

Dreamscape I

I

A large, victorian, castle-like house sat in the rain as a hearse pulled up to the towering door. The surrounding landscape was soaked from days of downpour. Two large doors belonging to the house swung open, welcoming the hearse driver. Three other men emerged from the house, helping the hearse driver with a coffin. The group carried the casket into the foyer of the incredibly large house.

II

Emmanuel watched from afar, up on the hill that towered over the cathedralesque house. He was hesitant to approach these people, for fear of rejection. But, seeing as he had already been labeled the scapegoat in some sort of weird scandal that he still didn’t quite understand, he figured that he’d go forth.
He ran low to the ground, until reaching the opposite side of the road from the house. A long, black limousine that looked quite old pulled up in front of Emmanuel before he could walk inside. A man with a chauffeur's hat (he doubted he was actually a chauffeur) stuck his head out of the driver’s seat window. Emmanuel started examining his face, the worn features, the wrinkles, the forehead that looked strangely like bacon.
“It’s all right.” the man said to him, with a strange authority that made Emmanuel think that he was important, “you’ll find a way to get the money in time.”
Puzzled, Emmanuel started shooting questions at the bacon-foreheaded man.
He just grinned and said in a smug way, “You naïve fool. Talk like that will make the others think unjustly of you.” A whole host of questions and half-assed possible answered raced through Emmanuel’s head. Then, the bacon man opened his mouth to talk, but only the clank of metal came out.


[edit: combined two posts]