The Dark Journal: Excerpt #53


I have received many private comments and emails from you about my writing projects.  I am flattered anyone is interested at all in reading anything I dribble out since to me, it is only drool.  Then again, a writer is his own worst critic.

I have been working on a trilogy for a few years now off and on, never really in a rush to finish it because I have wanted it to be perfect.  Well, let’s face it.  It will never be perfect to me because then I’d have nothing left to look forward to.

So I’m putting out a little bit here and there to see what anyone thinks.  If I am way off track and the writing is stupid or hard to follow or a hot plotless mess, I want to know.  I’d rather hear it from you all than from an editor or agent in my one shot at making it.

In my trilogy there is a main character, clearly.  He is a devious bastard.  It’s easy to label him that way, but of course, no good writer destroys someone in a book without showing a whole other side to things.  And I’m the kind of writer who loves to make you hate a character, then show you why you are so wrong for your judgments, and then I kill the character so you really feel bad.  haha  I’m so sadistic sometimes.  So in addition to the book, I’m scripting a journal for the main character, his thoughts and experiences and whatever he feels like jotting down.  I have and will refer to it off and on throughout the trilogy, so keep in mind this is an excerpt from his first-person perspective.

Today I will swim the breaststroke through the ocean of my thoughts.  I need maximum exposure, I need the full impact, the blunt force of the waves as they smash and hammer against me.  I need my muscles to completely liquefy, malleable, fluid.

I have regrettably permitted seven too many sessions with my thoughts to race by me without a dip or two in the chaos, in the Sea of Chaos.   More accurate most likely to call it such.  Just as when the Cosmos erupted from the Void, my most daring and duplicitous is born from my rotted, fetid mind when I remember all my valuable dark places.

Yesterday I remembered all of my darkness.  I slipped into its waters and side-stroked through the bracken, slow, gentle, respectful strokes that cooed apologies for my extended absences.  Each stroke eased my thoughts out of slumber and nightmare.  Each thought rose and swam with me and forgave me and kissed me.  I kissed them back, and they swirled and bubbled and woke other corners of the cauldron.  I had to leave them at a point so as to not fatigue my muscles, but how I yearned to return quickly.

Today, I swim hard.

My arms rise from the waters, pull up salt spray in their wakes.  My arms slice down, and my hands cut through the ocean’s skin.  They cut more, pinwheel beneath me and back up along my thighs, to explode out and up again, with wakes of more ocean blood.

My body has woken, wild and hungry.  It undulates through my thoughts, and I am a sea serpent.  My heart thunders, and my lungs are sacs aflame.  Breath mixes with salted water and swirls in my mouth; I can taste iron and tang.  For split seconds, half of my face is submerged, and half feels the frigid air of night.  One eye, in those halved seconds, sees deep down to the bottomless abyss, shows me flares of my devious potential.  My feet tingle.  The other eye glares back to the judgmental, haughty moon high on its midnight throne.

I broaden my strokes, bold, brazen; I defy the cold, white light as I have defied life every moment of my existence.  I force that witch moon to watch how much I revel in this undead, watery world.

I feel so alive!

The brine quenches my thirst, but that does not confuse me.  I finally reach shallow water, and my feet and arms claw me onto the shore.

I roll over to face the moon, my lungs still on fire, good, red fire, heaving, and I am excited anew.  I have determined how to kill the Mole, how to remove the Witche from this world, and how much fun it will be to ascend in the ranks of my Order.

And History will call me The Death of Things.

For I am not the hero.

© Copyright 2009 Matt Lawrence

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~ by Matt Lawrence on October 11, 2009.

One Response to “The Dark Journal: Excerpt #53”

  1. A nite swim in the cold and the dark, alone with my thoughts, sounds very good right now.

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