First Draft

One page of handwritten writing each day - that’s the goal. It doesn’t have to be well-written, or coherent, with some commercially-viable storyline. These pages can be rough, ugly, truthful – or they can be playful and careless. These posts will contain the story that I’ve held captive and unrealized for almost a decade, and have wished for equally as long to just release out into the world. I’ve come to some bitter understandings recently, and have grown tired of waiting for my life to reach a comfortable perch from which to create. So instead, I will simply write, to see where it may lead. You are reading a rough draft – not a completed, polished work. Feel free to engage, and learn as I do. But do note: you know nearly as much as I do about where this story leads.

  • First Draft

    Page 28

    Consistently, diligently, he stayed focused on his singular task of incorporating all red marks and alterations on the pages before him into his computer, for what felt like the better part of the morning. Of course, when he glanced at the clock on his screen, he realized that it had only been an hour and fifteen minutes since he sat down. He felt a twinge of worry upon realizing that there was so much more morning to go, but regardless, he felt proud. He thumbed through the pages of printed drawings, making certain that he hadn’t missed anything. He scanned over the red markings, the notes, the pink– The desk,…

  • First Draft

    Page 29

    Benjamin continued to bite down on his finger with his eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to let out an unbridled scream. But he knew that he could not – though the office might be empty, the building was not. The Thumper let out its own oddly-timed scream, and began slamming its watery body against the back of the drywall, in an apparent attempt to break through. THUD! The awkwardly protruding leg flailed about as it tried continuously to bash it’s way into the office. “Redo, redo!” cried both of the fists in unison. Finally, the Thumper reeled back into one last heaving slam of its body against the wall…

  • First Draft

    Page 30

    It had been over two months since Ben had written in this notebook. God, did he feel awful today. God, did he feel so awful, so often. Why? Why him? Why would someone so ambitious and so excited for life have so many days in which he just desperately wished for death? The only times he actually felt clear, focused, energized and well seemed to be those in which he was fasting from all food and drink, save for water, and perhaps tea. Otherwise, it was all a crapshoot as to whether or not he would have a happy, productive day or a distraught, emotional, unproductive one. He had scoured…

  • First Draft

    Page 31

    A day had passed. BENJAMIN had released control, gone outside to plant potatoes for the rest of the day. He had drank a few glasses of wine and eaten good food. And while he did feel slightly better today, he still felt completely incapable of managing or controlling his emotions. He still felt entirely incapable of working to make money on the computer (some researchers are starting to theorize that ADHD symptoms primarily stem from emotional dysregulation). He, alone in his tiny house, found himself screaming wildly back at his landlord’s rooster, which would not stop screeching. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” he would cry out, desperately imagining its head being…

  • First Draft

    Page 32

    BENJAMIN felt the cycle concluding at last. He had bravely stood unguarded with the dark beast throughout the last several days. He had allowed it to do as it must. He did not shiver, fight or flail this time. He embraced the beast as a part of his world, and this time it had simply snarled at him for a few moments and dragged him only a short distance. Then, once it had had its fill of violence, it released him and moved along, down it’s well-worn track. These kinds of events were cyclical in his world. BENJAMIN wished that they were not, and that he could have spent the…

  • First Draft

    Page 33

    His eyes shut tight, within the tiny tapestry of it’s wings he could envision TEN OR MORE ACRES OF BEAUTIFUL, TRANQUIL, PEACEFUL LAND, WHICH PERFECTLY SUITED HIS DREAM LIFE, AND INTO WHICH HE FIT PERFECTLY, LIKE A WARM BLANKET, A WARM HUG – A HOME. HE SAW A BEAUTIFUL, RUSTIC, LARGE, OPEN BUILDING, INSIDE OF WHICH HE COULD CREATE, WORK, CLEAN, COOK, SLEEP AND ENJOY THE PEACE OF THE MUNDANE. HE SAW A SOUTH-FACING SLOPE, UPON WHICH GREW A WONDERFULLY ABUNDANT GARDEN. HE SAW A GROVE OF BIRCH, SUGAR MAPLE, CONIFERS, SASSAFRAS, OAK, FRUIT AND NUT TREES TO HARVEST FROM, AND THROUGHOUT WHICH HIS ANIMALS COULD PLAY. HE COULD SEE…

  • First Draft

    Page 34 to 35

    The beast had already begun turning it’s back to him when he finally returned his attention to it. Slowly, it wheeled about in place, heavy thumps vibrating the earth. But BEN turned his focus back down to his finger and again smiled at the aphid, which continued to dance in ignorance and bliss. He then raised his hand to his shoulder, to allow the insignificant bug to go dance freely there for a time, and then to disappear somewhere down the back of his shirt. The beast completed its turn, breathing deeply as it took a few steps forward, and then halted. It stood in place, its head lowered. BEN…