|
|
|
|
| |
| Signed up: |
8 years ago (10/03/04)
|
|
|
Last signed in:
|
1 week ago
|
| Browsing
the members section on Rooster Teeth. |
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Unseen - part 1Chapter 1
"And that's our plan."
Richard was working late. He hated working late. The middle of June, one of the longest days of the year, and Richard was stuck at the office giving a presentation. The sun had gone down half an hour ago, but the corporate bigwigs up on the twentieth floor wanted him to close this deal today, or else. He'd never had to find out what 'or else' meant himself, but he'd seen enough people come and go in this company that he thought he had a pretty good idea.
"And you think this will benefit both our companies? It looks very one-sided to me," claimed one of the anonymous voices in the back of the room. Richard had heard everyone's names as they entered, but in the dim lights of the conference room, with the blinds closed and the projector shining light at the wall behind him, he couldn't make out any faces or details.
The contract was simple: a sharing of intellectual property between two companies, for mutual good. Somehow, the representatives from the other company didn't see how technology sharing was a good thing. It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Robert entered the office and closed the door behind him, with a knowing grin on his face. He turned around, and made a show of locking the door, the audible 'click' as the deadbolt slid into place drawing a warm sigh from the woman behind him.
He looked back over his shoulder as he loosened his tie, at Catherine's familiar form sitting on her desk. She leaned forward as he approached, her low neckline beckoning him as he threw his tie onto a chair. They had begun this affair almost three months ago, making what they felt was the best possible use of her private office. After all, with a view like this, there really was only one thing to do.
Catherine's legs parted and wrapped around his waist, pulling his hips towards her. She pressed herself against him as their lips found each other, tongues dancing, Robert laying her back on the desk. As she closed her eyes and arched her back, his hands explored her waist, and slid up to unbutton her blouse. He smiled as he thought he heard a moan, and went to work.
* * *
"I can't believe I have to spend my Thursdays like this. God forbid they learn how to put their own fucking files away - 'No no, that's Rachel's job.' Not like I have a fucking life or anything."
She was in the filing room. She hated the filing room. It was cold, dark, and worst of all, it was small. She couldn't stand small spaces, ever since her so-called 'friends' in high school made her climb down a well to prove she wasn't afraid. Then they pulled the bucket up so she couldn't get out, and laughed at her. She wasn't afraid then, but now she couldn't stand to be in a confined space. Her psychiatrist called it Claustrophobia, but that was for his benefit, not hers. Naming it didn't help any, it just meant Dr. Smith could tell her why she was crazy.
"Twenty-two years old and I'm filing papers. What a fucking joke." She didn't want to be here; she wanted to be out at a bar, meeting the next Mr. Rachel applicant. But she also wanted more vacation time, and the way to get time off later was to put in more time now. She knew she was doing this to herself, but that didn't mean she wasn't still allowed to hate it.
She picked up the last two files, and gave a little thank you to the man upstairs that both files were bound for the same cabinet. Accounting had their own private cabinet, because they were oh-so-special. She put the files in their place, and just as she closed the cabinet, the lights went out.
* * *
Steven strolled through the underground parking, twirling his keys and whistling. He had it all sorted out with his boss: get in late to enjoy the morning, leave late to skip the traffic. The sales floor needed people to make calls until dark anyway, so why wouldn't they let someone do it who wanted to?
Today had been a particularly good day for him on the phone, and he was feeling mighty proud of himself. In fact, he thought, today might have been the best day he's ever had at work. He made the company a lot of money (and himself some nice big commissions), and set up a date with his girl tomorrow night. Life was good.
The lights flickered a little, and he stopped whistling. He thought he heard something beyond the usual noises of the garage, but he couldn't be sure. He slowed down to listen more closely, but he couldn't make anything out clearly. It sounded like a voice saying something, but he couldn't hear it properly.
He saw some movement to his left, and turned his head to look. There was Michelle, who wasn't usually here this late; she must have been working on a project and lost track of time. Steven had gotten lost in his work many times before, then looked up to see that all of a sudden it was dark outside. One time he'd looked up and seen Michelle pulling open her sweater; he liked the view, but Michelle wasn't Candice, and Steven wasn't one to cheat.
He waved to her as the garage door started opening; someone must have been driving out. She waved back and he started to whistle again, but then he noticed something was wrong. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, but something was definitely off. He stopped whistling as he reached his car, and as he took his keys out of his pocket he figured out what it was; the garage door hadn't opened all the way. He'd been in and out of this garage so many times that he knew exactly how long that motor was supposed to run for, and this time it had stopped short.
He was about to say something about it to Michelle, but before he could start he heard a very loud metallic crunching sound, like something heavy being thrown into sheet metal. They both flinched, and he looked around the garage as the power went out. And then they heard the screaming.
* * *
(the rest of part 1 is in the first comment - seems 12,000 characters is for editing only a lie)
Part 2
|
|
|
Watch
Invite to Group
He stepped up to the 'custodial closet' (that's what they called it; he just called it his room) and saw the light on in the server room next to it. He leaned against the door to see if he could hear movement inside, and he heard some muffled voices from behind the door. He could make out two men talking, but he couldn't hear what they were saying.
As he was about to take the mop bucket back to his room, suddenly the lights went out. He waited a moment for the emergency lights to come on, but after a good ten seconds he was still in complete darkness. "I guess the generator lights are out."
He felt in the dark for the handle to his room, announcing what everything was in his head. "There's the wall, okay that's the hinge to the server door - I hope they're not freaking out in there - that's the hinge to my door, and there's my handle."
He turned the handle to open his door, and heard a loud, terrified scream come from the server room, and lots of loud noise, like someone trying to get away. Acting on instinct, he yanked open the door to his room, knocking over the mop bucket. He jumped inside, closing the door behind him, and flung himself against the wall. He couldn't see anything, but he crouched down on the floor, trying to make himself small, as if it would somehow keep him from being detected by whoever was in the server room. He tried to be still, and listened, but he could only hear the sound of his own heavy breathing.
I've been getting settled as a writer's assistant, and I have learned a very important thing for polishing a story.
Take out a majority of the passive verbs.
These include 'was', 'be', and their various forms.
He was bitten by the dog.
OR
The dog bit him
Decreases the word count, and is more likely to make an editor smile. They like less passive verbs.
I tend to encourage writing the first draft any which way it comes out. And then polishing afterwards. So this is just something to consider when you go over it again.
I love to see a good bit of writing.
Worrying too much about polish while you're still writing the story... really slows the creative flow. This is just advice for the editing process later.
I'm looking forward to being able to read through the other chapters that are up so far with out waiting
Plus, I've now got an even stronger pull to the story because there's a Rachel in it ^_^
Thanks for reading!