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Hello, Hi, Hey: I'm $$$ richh

N7隊長ジョン

By N7隊長ジョン
in Far from the Forest...

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Aryabug Newbie

Aryabug

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Posted (edited)

Ghosts and Ghouls

No playing

Hey little lady, how goes?

B-b-but

I'm still hanging in there~ Just achieved something cool in a game O:

Edited by Arya
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Soledai Newbie

Soledai

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So here's the thing I wrote.

I found out later that I didn't follow the prompt. I can't submit this. So I let you guys take a peek instead. It took me a while.

Haven't written anything since I was like 12. Oh well.

I looked up at the flashing light in my interrogation room, then back at the cold stare of my questioner. I saw nothing in those eyes but hatred and disgust, a sign of the events to come.

“So, murder is no crime to take lightly. I would very much like to know how one could sink so low. Tell me everything. Right from the beginning, sir. Don’t leave out a single detail.

I sighed, but I supposed my fate was already sealed. I began to tell my tale, as I best recalled.

“It was my life, I assumed. Day in, day out, the life of a factory worker was the epitome of drudgery. I felt no passion in my work, nor did I care for whatever fat cat was reaping the benefits of my labor. But money is a strange thing indeed, and it can make us do things we really don’t want to do. I blame myself, the capitalist system, my boss…just about everything in this world. But in the end, it’s just the way of the world. I decided.

My life was as predictable as the assembly line, but it wasn’t to remain that way forever. It was Saturday, and I was heading back from work, until a tall, dark figure approached me, with a glare from his shadowy eyes. He started eying my uniform.

“Factory worker, eh? Over at the steel mill, are you?”

I paused, wondered how someone like this would take time to talk to a gloomy looking thing like myself. I weighed my words, though in the end I gave up, and figured I had nothing to lose by speaking my mind.

“Yes, if by factory worker, you mean slave, that’s me.”

Immediately after I said that, he started sizing me up. I felt oddly perturbed, until suddenly, he spoke again.

”And how’s all your hard labor paying off for you?”

Today was one of the worst days at the mill I had yet to experience. Perhaps that was what made me answer this loaded question.

“It’s giving me an existence I would gladly trade with death.”

After I said that, he started to look at me in a different way than before.

“Come with me for a second.”

I followed him through a path far away from the factory, or my living quarters. I had nothing better to do, after all. He looked around, then finally began to ask me another cryptic set of questions. At first he asked about how I valued life, in which I expressed my frustrations uninhibited, and then later began to speak of the evils of industry. He spoke of many things that hit home for me. Maybe that was why I continued speaking with him. He then asked me to describe how I felt about my executives.

“My boss is a cruel man indeed. He is the type I always hoped was a myth in the industrial world, but has once again showed me how greedy a person can get. He is the cause of all my troubles in life. However, in a strange way, I rely on him. I need this money, and right now, this is my easiest way to get.”

“So, you let yourself be controlled by money,” said my strange companion.

“What are you getting at here?” I was starting to become annoyed with these awkward questions the man I did not even know the name of was asking me.

“I’m giving you a chance for revenge. I have a gun, a contract, and an opportunity for redemption for you.”

I suddenly realized where this is going. This man was trying to get me to kill my executive. An intolerable act, an absurd one, I told myself.

“You think I’d let myself become a murderer?”

He then stopped, and put on a grim look.

“You say you’re unhappy with your existence. That you find no meaning in slaving away for a master that does not value you. Well, here’s your chance to change things. Don’t let yourself be manipulated by him! You are in control!”

Freedom, I thought. Maybe it would make me a murderer, but to have a hope of freeing myself from this existence sounded all too tempting.

“Alright,” I said somewhat hesitantly, “I’ll do it. My alternative isn’t any better. I don't know why you want him dead, but at this point, I don't really care. Just give me all the details.”

He then went on to tell me how I would carry out this assassination. It would be at night, and I would kill him while he was asleep, in his own home. I asked him how I should deal with security issues, but he explained that everything should be easily accessible, going on to say how it was very lax in the mansion. I put my suspicions to rest.

The same night I made my way to the great mansion. The sight was truly astounding. Utter luxury and extravagance did not begin to describe it. A beautiful garden surrounding a palace which looked as though it could rival Versailles, highly detailed. If it was any other situation, I would have stopped and stared in awe for eternity.

I had doubted what the man had said about security, but somehow, he was correct. No one stood guard at all. Not a single sign that anyone even inhabited the place. I managed to get in through a window which was unlocked, questioning the security measures of the place. Once again I carried on in my mission, making my way to the president’s suite, where my target lay.

Quietly, I opened the door, and entered all too stealthily. Part of me was tempted to strike fear into his heart before his death, or give him a piece of my mind, but in the end, I decided the best thing to do was end him in cold-blood. I lowered my silenced pistol, aimed right at his forehead, and pulled down on my trigger confident in my action.

He died instantly.

I was ready to leave, however I wanted to have one last look at him, stare right into his dead eyes as he had done to all us workers. That is, until I noticed a note near his desk.

“Dear Bowersville charity,

I apologize for my somewhat hesistant nature in dealing with your requests for aid.

Greed has always been my principle vice. However, I am working my hardest to make amends.

I plan on becoming more thoughtful towards others rather than myself, and I plan on making this known in my industry settings, as well as in my aid to charity.

I see others around me act so self-indulging, and I am beginning to see the error in my ways. I hope it isn’t too late before my sins catch up to me.

I give this to you gladly as a token of my effort to improve those around me.

$500,000.00 to Bowersville charity, I believe will be a good start in the endless road of self-betterment.

I look forward to dealing with you again.

John Bowers, President of Bowers industries, 1958."

My heart sank like 1,000 pounds of iron ore in an ocean of tears.

I had spent so much time reading this note that I failed to notice the police awaiting just outside the door.

With the man I had talked to earlier today leading them.

And this is where I end my tale.”

My interrogator stopped, and took in my story with an ounce of suspicion.

“Well, you must be lying. The man who led the police in the arrest was none other than James Galt, the younger brother to the deceased John.”

“That can’t be true.” I thought to myself so naively. I had been controlled and manipulated like a pawn the entire time. I had looked for freedom, but only ended up killing a good man all while being played like a marionette by James, the one who sought to usurp Bowers industries, and inflict more terror no doubt on workers like myself. Once again, I blamed money. But I could not help but think of myself as the villain in this tale.

I sat silently in front of all this. I was ready for whatever consequences would come from the law. The interrogator referenced execution. Could this be it?

A few months later, I found myself prepared for the hangman’s noose. I lived my life as I had ended. Feeling no control whatsoever, powerless to whatever force was leading me on. Whose fault it was for me ending up here I never quite knew.

It was too late, after all.

So there's that. For any of you who actually read it all.

Only change I've made is changing the name of Bowers.

Shezzy. This was a very good read, I hope you weren't saying you can't write, if you were, I'd throw this in your face and disagree.

No consistency issues, none that I noticed anyway, and I liked the reference to Versailles, doing things like that paints an image for the reader to grasp, which is always good.

Then again, I like a good, dark, read so it got my attention right from the start. If you wanted to, I think this style could be up your alley.

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Soledai Newbie

Soledai

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Posted

B-b-but

I'm still hanging in there~ Just achieved something cool in a game O:

It's okay, it's the weekend, you can play.

Very nice to hear, and very good, what game are you playing?

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MisterIceTeaPeach Enthusiast

MisterIceTeaPeach

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Swell.

Just reading random Zelda fanfics. This airship one is actually pretty good!

Cool.

I'm currently writing the support I've chosen.

I felt like to write something again since I don't take part in the writing conversation.

Goedendag Hattu.

Edited by Mister IceTeaPeach
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Magical Glace Newbie

Magical Glace

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Cool.

I'm currently writing the support I've chosen.

I felt like to write something again since I don't take part in the writing conversation.

Cool! Just let me know if you wish for me to edit again~
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