News: Not much on the old CES front I’m afraid. Cruz is a phantom, or more likely, a Fart in the wind. While I am entering a state of hopelessness when it comes to any past mentioned comics, I continue to trudge forth, writing some scripts and getting back to regular, novel style, writing. Also I am getting closer and closer to moving, so wish me luck.
Well, here’s something new for you somewhat loyal readers. Not quite a short story, but something I’ve been working on, on and off. Now for those of you noticing errors and lines that just don’t fit, this is my first draft of the first part of something bigger. I am looking for critiques and feedback in terms of idea and paragraph structure.
Anxiety Break (Part 1, first draft)
Looking at the dark, shaded buildings around me, then down to the rain soaked street, realizing that I was definitely not where I fell asleep, I felt the middle of my chest tightening and my breathing started to quicken. The cigarette in my mouth fell, as I put my hand to my forehead, retracting suddenly and grabbing my chest instead, shocked from the feel of leather against my skin, realizing I was wearing gloves.
“Great Dom,” I thought. “You’re having a panic attack. It’s gonna be bad if you don’t calm the FUCK down.”
I calmed myself the best way I could. Inhaling deep, then exhaling slowly, doing anything I could to clear my mind until I could completely calm down. It wouldn’t do me any good to think about anything ‘til I can put an end to this panic attack.
Finally, the pain in my chest started to subside. I looked around, and then at myself to gather as much information as possible, before getting up.
“Where the hell am I?”
Searching for some semblance of where the hell I was, or what the hell was going on, I started to look around again.
“Buildings or street signs…” I muttered, thinking out loud to stay focused, “One diner, two warehouses, payphone and… THERE! Street sign!
Chamberlain Street. Looking further at the cross street. Ok 38th and Chamberlain. Well, that answered one question.
“What the hell am I wearing?”
Every single piece of clothing I was wearing was unrecognizable to me; a long dark trench, black shirt, leather gloves, slacks and hard-soled shoes. It was all foreign to me in both material and style, more upscale than I’m used to. What made me feel even more uncomfortable was that everything felt broken in.
With that thought in my head, I knew I needed to focus on something else before that uncomfortable feeling triggers another panic attack. My eyes targeted the cig I just dropped. I needed to find everything about that damned smoke. It was a Pall Mall..
“Why the hell would I smoke Pall Mall’s?” I asked myself aloud. “Wait, I don’t smoke anyway, so why’s it matter?”
While I don’t smoke (or at least I thought I didn’t), what bothered me most was the brand. If I were going to smoke anything, It would definitely be Marlboros. It was the same brand my parents smoked as I grew up, so I was familiar. Also I liked the smell of their tobacco. So yes, with the smell and family tradition, I definitely wouldn’t be smoking Pall Malls.
I know it’s not important, but these little thoughts are keeping me from going crazy about the bigger issues. Mainly, finding out what the fuck is going on!
In this completely surprising situation, I tried being hopeful that I at least had my wallet and phone, things I never leave the house without.
In my search, I found a pack of smokes, keys, a wallet and phone, none of which were mine.
“Shit,” I thought, out loud. “I can’t even call Julie. She’d never answer an unknown number this late at night.”
Wait, just what time is it anyway?
Checking the phone, I pressed on it. It was a nice phone, actually, one of those touch-screen phones. If I had the money I would get one for my…
Wait a minute. I’m envying myself. Damn, this is insane.
The background was a cute looking woman, probably in her mid-twenties, smiling and posing for it. It was too candid to be a picture that came with the phone, so I assumed I would eventually have to talk to this person to find anything more about what the hell was going on.
Clearing my head, I finally focused on the time. . It was Three-thirty in the morning. Double damn it. If any of this crap happened in the last 24 hours, that means I’ve been out of it for at least seven. I really need to start figuring this all out.
The wallet needed inspecting first. Black leather, kind of like mine, just newer, but it felt heftier. Of course there were the usual items, discount cards, business cards, identification, and what would be the heft, cash. Ignoring the money, for now anyway, I checked out the I.D, hoping for a clue where I should head next.
I don’t know why, but I wasn’t entirely surprised to see my face on the I.D., but the name, was definitely not mine. What was even more interesting was that this name was on the business cards I found too. Michael Syracuse, Private Detective.
Looking at Michael’s card, I say Michael because I want to separate myself from this person until I get a handle on what’s going on, an idea as to why I was in the street in the middle of the night came clear. He was a fully licensed private detective, with his own office too. For some reason I felt a little proud, don’t ask me why.
After thinking things over, I decided that I would have to go to this guy’s office for the night, since I had nowhere else to go. Without my keys, I couldn’t get into my apartment ‘til I could get a hold of Julie, who I can’t call ‘til at least Eight, even if she did believe me, and I’m not going to risk going to this guys place, only to find the girl in the picture there waiting, starting conversations that would just go bad. That said, I pulled out the phone and called a cab.
That’s all for now,