The Great Left-Handed Writing Experiment: Days 5-8


So I’ve fallen a bit behind on my writing experiment. I’m starting a new job next week, I’m currently playing Pillars of Eternity so I can review it, and my parent’s are moving into a new house. So there’s a lot of stuff going on.

But mostly I’ve fallen behind because I’m just embarrassed by what I’m writing here. This was a terrible idea. I’m thinking of titling this “Life sucks and everything is terrible” in honor of how bad this story is getting.

Yet that was the point of this exercise, to put something so embarrassingly horrible out there that publishing other work I’ve done seems brilliant by comparison. So without further ado here it is:

Annabelle launched herself at the cackling former slave, slamming into Beth’s midsection. The pair of went tumbling into the road, beth began pulling at Annabelle’s hair. All along the row of the houses, people come out to watch the girl’s tumbling through the street.

“Hey, get off her!”

Suddenly a hand was clutching Beth’s hair like a leash, using it to viciously yank her off Annabelle. Beth found herself hanging in the air by her hair, tears stinging her eyes as searing pain radiated across her scalp.

“Lemme go you somabitch!” Beth hissed, grasping at the massive calloused hands holding her up. Max von Krieger spat in the girl’s face, making her squeal.

“Thank you Max!” Annabelle said. The hulking man grunted, smiling down at Annabelle. At leas Max’s version of a smile, the right side of his face was twisted with scars and the dead milky white of his right eye stood in stark contrast to the brown of his left.

“Whatcha think y’all doing?”

Annabelle whipped around to see a half dozen former slaves strolling down the street.

“Put her down, ain’t slaves no more. Ye can’t treat us like that anymore.”

The leader of the group said, a man  in his forties said, his skin so black Annabelle mistook him for a shadow.

“Your girl here attacked Ms. DuPrix.” Max said.

“I believe ya, she always done had more fire than sense.” The man said, “And I promise ya, sir, she will be disciplined. But by us, in our own way.”

Max stared at teh girl, to the man, and back again.

“I’d hate to be bothering them boys in blue over this. So why don’t you just let her go?”

Max grumbled and tossed the girl into the man’s arms.

“Ya somabitch!” Beth wailed, running her hands through her hair, making sure it was still attached. “I’ll kill ya! Ya hear me!? I’ll kill-”

Beth was suddenly silenced by the man as he cuffed her over the back of the head.

“Be quiet ya fool girl, you made enough trouble for one day.”

The group surrounded the crying girl and quickly left the area.

 

Josh began dry heaing again as the stink from the latrine pit struck him again. It was like being punched in the face by God Almighty himself!

“Sweet Mary,” Josh said, struggling to cross himself while still retching, “Whatever Sin I committed to deserve this, I ask you, just strike me down for it next time.”

Josh resumed shoveling dirt back into the hole, his stomach turning over as the putrid mix of piss and shit swallowed each shovel full of dirt with a disgusting wet gurgling. Fortunately this was the last one he had to fill.

“So I guess you learned mouthing off at your commanding officer isn’t such a good idea, eh?” Tommy Lancaster said, taking a long leisurely drag on the cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“You shut your damn mouth.” Josh said to his loader. “You wanted to christen Bellowing Bertha just as much as I did, but I’m the one who got latrine duty.”

“YOu didn’t get latrine duty for that, you got latrine because you never learned when to keep your mouth shut. ‘Sides, I didn’t say to blow up a house, you were supposed to aim for the tree line!”

“I did!” Josh said, pounding down the dirt with his shovel, as if afraid the latrine would come oozing out after him.

“Well thank God the war is over if that’s how you aim.” Tommy laughed.

“Did you want something or you just here to gloat?”

“Sorry there Josh!” Tommy chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “Just having some fun. I just got tired of patrolling the streets. Not like anythings gonna happen here. Only thing left here are old men, women and their slaves. Don’t know why we’re even down here now, just ship us home.

“So much for killing a regiment each, eh?”

 

“Yeah come on, there is one good thing left in this town – a saloon.”

It was still early afternoon but it wasn’t much like there was much else to do and Josh wasn’t exactly eager to get new orders.

The pair went strolling into town following the winding dirt road until finally they finally came to an old run down building that had “salone” painted across the door that was barely hanging onto its hinges.

They stepped inside to see it was filled with three dozen other soldiers in various states of drunkenness.

“Heheh” The bartender, an old man with a beard’s worth of hair sprouting from his ears, chuckled as Josh stepped up to a slab of wood nailed into the wall.

“Something funny friend” Josh asked, sitting up straight and trying to look as intimidating as possible. The bartender only laughed harder.

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2 thoughts on “The Great Left-Handed Writing Experiment: Days 5-8”

  1. The story reads well, John. Since you have no idea where it will go, no good reason to stop yet! Looking forward to updates.

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