Count Your Days (working title, mature, attempting to publish)

[Life]

A little bit of back story on this one.

I'm about to finish up my army service and when I go to school, I think I'm going to go into journalism but via English lit studies.

However, I've always wanted to write and publish a novel. I've never been able to find a story that actually convinced me that wasn't contrived until now.

Basically, this story is designed to be a modern retelling of a famous fairy tale. I got the idea from watching Once Upon A Time since the premise of that show is about using real life to emulate fantasy. This is also the only fairy tale off the top of my head that actually can be transposed into real life almost directly. I'll let you figure out which one I'm talking about in due time.

The writing itself is very sloppy currently. I just worked out my idea a couple of hours ago and the idea changed numerous times until I put it on paper. I'm just copying straight from my notebook at this stage. It's rather short and will probably grow in length but this is my current idea.

CHAPTER 1

365 days left.

Gurgling water filled the empty silence of the room. It sounded like the sound of the Hudson River creating a mini-waterfall after rushing past large rocks. Almost peaceful - if it hadn't been designed as an alarm.

Shawn groaned and opened an eye. The world came into focus rather slowly, almost as if beer goggles were slowly being lifted from his face. The sound from his clock was starting to drill into his brain. He turned over and stared at the bright red digital numbers.

8:00. Fuck.

He slammed the snooze button and considered rolling over. Difficult decision. The he remembered that he had a new contract. Which meant that he actually had to get up.

Shawn sat up quickly and immediately winced. Too quickly. The hangover hit him like a freight train. He grabbed the giant bottle of water sitting on the nightstand and began to drain it.

At the halfway point, his brain began to scream. Stop it! I'll be good, just stop the pain! Shawn kept going until he finished, exhaling deeply for good measure. Today was going to be shit and the last thing he needed was to be hungover until noon.

He stood up and wobbled for a second. Black spots swam before his eyes as his brain fought to re-orient itself. The leather jacket he had been wearing last night was lying discarded on the floor. He picked it up and emptied the pockets. Gum. A parking ticket. His cellphone. And a small black box. Motherfucker.

He put the box on the nightstand and started running through contacts on his phone. M. Massey, Mike, Mom, Morrison... Myers. John Myers. His new employer, if you could call him that.

Shawn took a deep breath. He was going to need to freshen up before the phone call.

-

"Look, Mr. Myers. I know that I already wrote up the contract and you're willing to sign but considering my own personal on-goings..."

"And why should I care about those?"

Shawn sighed. "I'm telling you right now that you don't want me to start today. In fact, you do not want me anywhere near your daughter after last night. Professionally speaking."

Silence. He had just blown the contract of his life but after Amanda last night... He knew this was the right idea.

"I'll double your first month's pay."

The guy was desperate. Shawn was already going to make a small fortune from the job. And now doubling? "Uh... I'm not sure I..."

"Heard correctly? You did, Mr. Beck." Shawn could hear the desperation in Myers voice. In fact, it was actually difficult to ignore it. "This is for my baby girl. I came to you because everyone that I've talked to told me that if there was anyone who could help, it would be you. They call you a healer, a magical medicine man without drugs. One lady even told me that you must have descended from heaven."

Shawn laughed. "That didn't happen to be Diane Gervais, did it? She exaggerates all the time whenever talking about me."

"You're missing the point, Mr. Beck. You are my best chance to save her. Please." Myers was about to break down. Shawn cursed silently and made a gut call.

"Fine. What's the address?"

He heard a sigh of relief from the other end. "273 Downton Street. It's by Spadina Station. Thank you very much, Mr. Beck."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm still convinced this is the wrong thing to do."

"I don't. Goodbye, Mr. Beck". With that, the line went dead in Shawn's hand.

Fuck. Motherfuck. Shawn kicked himself for his idiocy in a moment of weakness and reached for his boots. His day was about to get longer.

Edited October 24, 2013 by Life

[Life]

Here's the start to Chapter 2. I'm probably going to have to add more to Chapter 1 after this simply because it's rather short. Also, this book is mature so read at your own discretion.

In addition, I've already figured out my mistakes. This is only a VERY rough draft, simply for the idea.

CHAPTER 2

365 days left.

Kacie was busy making tea when the doorbell began ringing.

She considered answering it but there was a slight problem. It would probably be an issue for the other person if the door opened and a naked girl would be standing there. It wasn't as if she was hideous - actually, she was gorgeous - but if it turned out to be her father, that might make things awkward. She ran to the door and checked via the peephole.

It wasn't. Good. At this point, she didn't give a flying fig about how the guy outside would feel. She was just in it for the high of the reaction.

She opened the door wide and waited for a look of surprise and embarrassment to come.

It didn't.

"Kacie Myers?"

Suddenly, it was Kacie's turn to be shocked. There was a cute guy standing outside and he hadn't flinched at the sight of a naked girl answering her door. It was almost as if someone had warned him...

Then it hit her. She crossed her arms and stared at him. "John sent you, didn't he?"

A chuckle. "Yep. Might want to put something on to wear; You'll catch a cold... and an arrest on the way to breakfast."

"And why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because you..." He started to speak but something behind Kacie distracted him.

"Kace, do you think that you can make... WHAT THE FUCK?!" Marie had come down the steps but screamed the second she saw the door open and some random guy standing there with Kacie. Usually, this wouldn't be an issue but Marie happened to also be naked. She ran back up the steps and slammed the bedroom door closed.

Kacie turned back to the stranger and smirked. "So why the fuck am I coming with you again? I could be be upstairs fucking her right now, you know. And I kinda prefer her to my dad's bitch."

The stranger clicked his tongue similar to a dolphin noise. Looked like a nervous tick to her. "OK, let's do this the fun way. Option A is you putting on clothes and meeting me at the bistro down the road in fifteen minutes."

Kacie smiled at the guy's idiocy. Clearly, he didn't know her. "Say I don't like that option."

"Well, behind door number two is me coming back here in twenty minutes and dragging you by the ear to breakfast. Oh and I don't give a fuck about how deep you've buried your tongue in her pussy, you'll still be coming with me." He watched as the smile slowly evaporated from her face. This guy was serious, judging by the look in his eyes. "My suggestion is that you make that girl do the Walk of Shame without me around."

"She could always be my girlfriend and actually live here."

"She isn't. Fifteen minutes." With that, he picked up a briefcase that had been lying beside the door and walked away.

Kacie stared. This guy was good. Really good. This could actually be fun.

[Life]

When I get home, I'll post the opening passage from my redone Chapter 1. I'll put up the the official first version (what's up is copied from notebook which is my idea pad) and with a redone passage from my second draft which sounds a lot more like a book.

I've also changed the working title to "Count Your Days" because that sounds a lot less cliched than "Heal Me".

[Life]

So this first passage is the first notarized copy. The second is a more recent draft which sounds a lot more like a novel.

Enjoy.

365 days left.

Gurgling water filled the empty silence of the room.

Shawn groaned and opened an eye. The world came into focus rather slowly, as if beer goggles were slowly being lifted from his face. The family picture above his bed came into view as light filtered in from the window. The birds outside chirped away, signalling that a new day had come, bringing the usual crap of normal life. And above all that, the alarm. The sound from his clock was starting to drill into his brain. He turned over and stared at the bright red digital numbers.

8:00. Fuck.

He slammed the snooze button and considered rolling over for another five minutes of sleep. It’s not like it matters to anyone. Then he remembered that he had a new contract; which meant that he actually had to get up.

Shawn sat up quickly and immediately winced. Too quickly. The hangover hit him like a freight train. Served him right; he had been downing whiskey all night and Mike hadn’t helped with the situation. He grabbed at the giant bottle of water sitting on the nightstand and sent it flying across the room. Fuck my life.

He stood up and wobbled for a second. Black spots swam before his eyes as his brain fought to re-orient itself. The water bottle had landed on the leather jacket that he had been wearing last night, now casually discarded on the ground. He picked up the water bottle and sank into the plush chair sitting beside his door. This is going to suck. He opened it and began to drink, intending to drain it.

At the halfway point, his brain began to scream at the rest of his body. Stop it! I’ll be good, just fucking stop the pain! Shawn fought to the urge to put it down and kept going until the bottle was bone dry. Today was already going to be shit and the last thing he needed was to be hung over until noon.

Still sitting in the chair, he reached over to the jacket, checking the pockets: Keys, gum, his cellphone and a little black felt box. Motherfucker.

He opened it up and stared at the beautiful diamond engagement ring nested inside. Thoughts of last night sprinted through his mind. Disgusted, he closed the box and tossed it onto his bed. Hopefully, Garnier’s Diamond Emporium would accept refunds since he wouldn’t need it anymore. Six years of his life, all gone to shit in the span of a couple of minutes.

Shawn opened up the contacts list in his phone and scrolled down to the name that he needed. M. Massey, Mike, Mom, Morrison… Myers. John Myers, his new employer, if you could really call him that. However, considering the events of last night, Shawn told himself that it would be a mistake to carry through with the job.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A hot shower was certainly in need. If Shawn was going to go ahead and cancel his deal with Mr. Myers, he was going to need to freshen up.

-

After the shower and some scrambled eggs, Shawn grabbed the contract from his briefcase. Sure the briefcase was a little old fashioned but it was the only physical memory of his father. It was always handy and had that familiar smell of worn out leather that Shawn loved as a little boy. Even when it ripped on the side last year, Shawn managed to get it sewn up so that it looked like no damage had come to it.

The contract itself was decently light, consisting of terms and needs of the arrangement. John had pretty much been open to any demand that Shawn made, even to the hefty stipend that Shawn requested. Shawn’s philosophy was that if something needed to be done, then it should only be done the right way, money be damned. Pretty good for a kid who had grown up with virtually nothing.

He flicked through the contract, searching for a clause that would allow himself to back out. It didn’t exist now that both parties had signed but it couldn’t help to try. Once on the last page, he flipped it over and sighed. Looks like his only chance was to convince John that he wasn’t in the right state of mind for this job. Fat chance but still, he needed to try.

He dialed John’s number and waited. One ring. Two. Thr… “Hello, this is John Myers, Marketing Manager of Bell Canada speaking.”

“Mr. Myers? This is Shawn Beck speaking. How are you doing?”

“Beck… Beck…” Shawn could almost hear John thinking. “Oh yes, the Companion, right?”

“That’s correct. I need to talk to you about our arrangement.”

“So everything’s ready to go, I assume? I hope you haven’t forgotten that you start today.”

Shawn sighed. Time to break the news. “About that, Mr. Myers. I know that we’ve already written up the contract but as of last night, my own personal on-goings have forced me to…”

“Why should I care about those?” John’s tone came across as harsh. This could be really bad if Shawn screwed up now. He needed to tread carefully.

“I’m telling you right now that you don’t want me to start today. In fact, you do not want me anywhere near your daughter after last night. Professionally speaking.”

Silence. He had just blown the job of his life but after Amanda last night… He knew it was the right idea.

“Why?” A simple question but it felt more like a jab to the ribs. “Does it involve my daughter?”

“No, absolutely not. However, personal events in my own life may compromise my ability to work on your specific case. I’m sure you understand.”

More silence. John was thinking over Shawn’s words carefully. To break the arrangement from Shawn’s end would mean a lawsuit now that both parties consented. Shawn prayed silently that it wouldn’t come to that.

“I’ll double your first month’s pay.”

There weren’t many things in the world that could stun Shawn but his jaw dropped in an almost comical fashion. This was desperation speaking, considering that Shawn was already going to make a small fortune if he continued on with this job. Double the pay for even a single month sounded absurd.

“Um… I’m not sure I…”

“Heard correctly? You did, Mr. Beck. This is for my baby girl.” The desperation in John’s voice began to grow. It was impossible to ignore. “I came to you because everyone that I’ve talked to has told me that if there is anyone who could help, it would be you. They call you a healer, a magical medicine man without drugs. One lady even told me that you must have descended from heaven.”

Shawn laughed. “That didn’t happen to be Diane Gervais, did it? She exaggerates all the time whenever talking about me.”

“You’re missing the point, Mr. Beck. You are my best chance to save her. Please.” John was about to break down. Soon, it would be unbearable to listen to. Shawn cursed silently and made a gut call.

“Fine. What’s the address?”

He heard a sigh of relief from the other end. “273 Downton Street. It’s by Spadina Station. Thank you very much, Mr. Beck.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m still convinced that this is the wrong thing to do.”

“I don’t. Goodbye, Mr. Beck.” With that, the line went dead in Shawn’s hand.

Fuck. Motherfuck. Why did I just agree? Shawn kicked himself for his idiocy in a moment of weakness and stuffed the contract back into the briefcase. His day was about to get much longer, assuming that he could trust the shrink’s report. Usually Dr. Monogue got his shit wrong but Shawn wasn’t paid to point out psychiatrists’ mistakes.

A quick Google map search on his phone gave him the street and a nice restaurant nearby. He smiled. If he was going to do this right, he was going to need a big breakfast.

[Life]

Shawn hated his alarm clock with a passion that fell just short of bludgeoning it into a million different pieces. The metal box sat on his nightstand, always staring back at him with those stupid digital numbers, mocking his every action. Get up Shawn, you’re going to be late! Don’t worry, today ‘ought to be better than the crap you put up with yesterday! And the alarm only helped to compound his fury. The clock gave him the option of obnoxious chirping birds, pure static and the “comforting sounds of nature”, as the box had claimed. He had gone for the “nature” option but had been quite disappointed when it really meant a waterfall. It was still the lesser of the evils presented; essentially his go-to poison of choice.

And like usual, it never failed to rouse him from any soothing dreams or alcohol-induced comas. Like the one that Shawn had brought about last night. The only difference between last night and his usual alcohol-fueled nights was that he had been praying with all his soul never to wake up and face another day. That was how badly it had gone for him.

Shawn groaned and opened an eye. The world came into focus rather slowly, as if beer goggles were slowly being lifted from his face. The family picture above his bed came into view as light filtered in from the window, showing him and his mother during a happier time. His mother had managed to get Mickey Mouse to take the picture with the Disney Castle towering in the background, even with Shawn protesting that at nineteen, he didn’t need to be treated like a little child. It had been the last vacation that they had taken together since the chemo still hadn’t taken away all of her strength at that point.

He turned to face the alarm clock and the incessant sound of rushing water. It was taunting him; daring him not to get up. As the waterfall droned on, the numbers 8:00 flashed in his face. He slammed the snooze button and turned over for another five minutes of sleep. It usually worked too, but it seemed like his brain had had a long conversation with his clock last night and the two conspired to make Shawn as miserable as earthly possible. He could feel a headache oncoming and failed in his attempt to erase all memories of last night.

He rolled over and swore violently. His aptly named “hangover bottle” wasn’t on the desk like it usually was. It had been a birthday present from Mike last year and Shawn had almost killed him for it. Mike had gone to the Disney Store in Yorkdale and picked out what he referred to as “the gayest water-bottle of all time that would even have Bruno calling you a fag for using it”. Every Disney princess imaginable was on it: Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Belle… even the new black princess made an appearance. After Shawn had opened the box and pulled it out, Mike cracked a smile not unlike a fat kid in a candy shop. But Shawn had called him on his bluff and used it for the rest of the night as his personal vodka canteen with absolutely no regard for his dignity. It had earned him the nickname “Princess Shawny” but also had made the night hilarious.

And right now, it was missing. Shawn sat up quickly and winced as the hangover hit him like a freight train. It had to be around here somewhere. He always had it filled to the brim, even if he had no plans to drink.