[Jason Vines]

To get the ball rolling on this board... here are some stories I wrote in Creative Writing last year.

Attached File(s)

•  Creative_Writing___Perspectives.doc (27.5K)
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•  Creative_Writing___Short_Story_Final_Draft.doc (36K)
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•  Creative_Writing___Dialogue.doc (27.5K)
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•  Creative_Writing___Short_Story.doc (34.5K)
  Number of downloads: 132
•  Creative_Writing___Character_Story.doc (27.5K)
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[Jason Vines]

"Demons are Us"

They rise towering above us,
Some growing from their homes with Richard Nixon and a slightly odder fellow with horns, a tail, and a pitchfork.
Specs of calculation sprinkle over contact lenses of sincerity,
That mask the ambition and greed radiating from many of their rheumy eyes.
Step into their dome of horrors and
See the ultimate trappings of civilization.
They loom above you in three-piece suits and shiny dress shoes.
Two or more grotesque faces leap from atop their shoulders,
Foamy saliva dripping from their fang-filled mouths
As they threaten to consume or destroy all in their way.
Strange that on each of them,
Only one cleanly shaven face beneath immaculately groomed hair do you see.
Welcome to Washington.

Observe the ultimate in order:
?The chair recognizes the gentleman from Missouri.?
Each takes his or her turn
Amidst the gentle pounding of the gavel from on high.
Watch their nice manners
As their serrated teeth sink into the flesh of their fellows.
Hear the exchange of gracious pleasantries
As victims silently scream into virtual death.
Welcome to Washington.

[Jason Vines]

"The Dark Fog"

Into the darkness stumbled the man.
He did not know whence it came or where it led.
But yet tumble forth with purpose did he,
Fog gathering before his vision
With each halting, advancing step.

Asked the man, ?Where am I? Why am I here??
To these questions, nothing gave an answer.
Only the wind stirring the cloudy mists
Let the man know he had not gone deaf.
The man issued a loud snort
That reverberated through the emptiness.
?I only know I am here with reason.
If I don?t know that reason, that?s fine.?
So the man sat down where he stood,
And yelped when he was goosed by hard rock.
?Ooh, changing terrain, that?s just spiffy,? muttered the man
As he settled on the newly rocky corrugated landscape.

For an hour, the man rested on the rock.
In that time, he had done nothing.
Thoughts neither bidden nor unbidden had come to his mind.
Neither rhyme nor reason for being here had materialized to him.
?That?s it, I?m out here,? said the man.
With a furrowed brow and a set jaw, the man leapt to his feet
And stormed away from and out of this murky realm.
Concluded the man, ?I really do not like that land called Poetry. Blech!?

[Jason Vines]

?Why??

See the ten o?clock news.
Watch the plane smash into fiery oblivion.
Look at the twisted corpses of the car crash, biologic and mechanic.
Know that intruders stormed generous old Mrs. Peterson?s home.
What did they do? They raped her.
But at least she lived.
Have you heard of 15-year-old Ben Stacy? He?s dead.
Two of his schoolmates needed his shoes, you see.

Why dammit why?
We are supposed to be good. We should do what is right.
But we hurt and burn and die and kill.
The Devil has no place on Earth; demons need not spring forth on Doomsday.
Their masters and teachers are already here.

See the ten o?clock news.
Watch the firefighters imperil their lives,
Thinking only of saving others.
Look at the rows and rows of volunteers,
Donating their blood and their soup and their toil.
Know that Miss Roberts donated a kidney.
She didn?t know well the boy who needed it.
But so what? He was someone in need, that?s enough.

Why dammit why?
We are said to be bad. We always do what is selfish.
But we help and persevere and live and risk.
The Messiah has no place on Earth; angels need not descend at the end of time.
Their masters and teachers are already here.