The insanity of hathland!

[assassin]

No idea why I'm posting this here, it's not exactly worthy is it?

I'm thinking of changing chapter 1 part one, and so I thought I'd get some expert opinion...

Thanks in advance..

-Authors note-
Well here you are.
A story.
In my life I have discovered that there are several types of stories.
For example, there are fairy tales, in which non-existent creatures befriend /maul/appear alongside normal people and which are intended solely to teach you a moral you probably won’t remember or care about.
Then of course there are serious stories, which seem to think it logical that you can write a made up story about a very real thing, (which is just plain rude) and which often cause many things such as laughter leaking of the eyes and minor blows to the head.
This story, you’ll be glad to hear, could be described as both, yet is in fact none.
The story has several purposes, but the main ones are:
A-To make you smile.
B-To make you think.
And let’s face it, I’m being very vague here but there are other, darker meanings trapped in the stories mesh, but hopefully you’ll be absent minded enough to ignore them, and if you do happen to come across one I suggest you pretend you never had, it’s better for us both.
Therefore here is a disclaimer of sorts, which may make you run at a great speed to the nearest door, or possibly a bin.
~This story is odd~



CHAPTER ONE. ~ part one~
~In which you start reading this book long after I have finished it, and in which the most dysfunctional person possible is introduced~


It was not a beautiful midsummer’s morning, not because that would be cliché, but because this was Northern Ireland after all and the weather was often as temperamental as your incredibly senile great grandmother.
It was a dark dreary sort of day, of the sort which was often the cause of a great number of murders (or at least it was an excuse), and which generally made people run off to foreign hot countries.
The sky was of a pale grey, flecked with white as dull clouds loomed warily in the distance, most likely plotting their terrible revenge against mankind.
Not far beneath there lay a small but horribly busy little street, in which a particular person walked, amongst many others.
Like many people he was completely and utterly normal, (at least to look at) being of a medium height, with short hair and wearing average boring clothes.
In fact he wouldn’t have been any more inconspicuous if he had been wearing a sign saying ‘Please give money’.
There isn’t much to say about him in general, as a person he is really not at all interesting, but I shall tell you two things, firstly his name was Adam, and secondly, it was his birthday.
Quite frankly he was cold, tired, fed up, and possibly just a little suicidal.

Minutes ago he had made a fine purchase at the nearest run-down off-license, a purchase which he struggled to carry as he walked along oblivious to everything and anything which was nearby.
Perhaps you are too young too or naïve to know what I’m on about but these two variables could only meant one thing.

~He intended to get drunk, VERY drunk. ~

I suppose you are wondering why? Humans often do, to no avail.
I mean obviously the question is ‘How?’ Not ‘why?’
If we knew ‘How God could possibly exist’, or ‘How it was possible for angels to stand on clouds’ or even the immensely popular question ‘How come sometimes the milk runs down the carton when other times it pours neatly?’, then we’d really be ahead of ourselves, but no, instead we keep asking the dratted ‘why’ questions.

However now, we shall answer a single why question.

The reason was that despite the fact that it was his birthday, he had not received a single present or any cards, nor even a single tip of the hat.
This obviously disturbed him greatly, and so he was leaning on man’s greatest and least reliable crutch: alcohol.

So slowly but surely he made his way through the town, taking care to ignore the large amount of spiteful old people glaring at him as well as the horde of underage mothers pushing prams along in a bored manner, their oversized earrings swinging like pendulums.
Soon he left the town altogether and after an hour’s walk he came to a wide open and beautifully fresh field, surrounded by thin wooden fences and hedges that might really be leafy demons in disguise.
He at once climbed over these fences, rather carefully so as not to drop any of his ‘surplus’.

Then he stopped, making sure to get a joyous inhalation of the wondrous air, that could have easily killed someone suffering from hay fever, before running quick and free to a great big twisted oak tree which stood in the corner of the field, and which presumably the farmer hadn’t the heart to cut down.

It was there that he sat down and began to enjoy his spoils, which would take a while really, even if he was a fast drinker, as it included at least thirteen bottles.

So it was that, under the dulling influence of alcohol, that Adam forgot just how unloved he was, and that it was in fact his birthday.

Not long later, he had but one bottle left, and it seemed such a shame to leave it, all alone and cold in its cardboard box, with not a friend in the world.
So he picked the poor fellow up and murmured
“You buddy, yer just like me, you ain’t got nobody and nothin’, and you were last til’ left.”

I think that at this point a little tear ran down the bottles neck, but that might have just been condensation.

At this sad moment, the first odd thing of the day happened;
Adam heard a strange and mildly disturbing creaking sound, as though some old man had just sat down in his ancient rocking chair right next to him.

He then felt something; or rather several hard objects touch his back, and that’s saying something, because in his current state, he could barely feel his own legs.
He turned around cautiously, and was not at all surprised to see that the old oak tree had bent over in sympathy, its entire frame twisted around grotesquely as it patted him on the back with as many branches as it could.
It looked strangely human poised there, as though it’s branches had become hands and it’s many roots bunched together to form ugly feet.

“I hear ya son! I too am the only tree for approximately 42 meters!” it groaned in a deep booming voice, every bit as wizened and dry as it’ s bearer.

Adam looked from the amber bottle to the tree in dismay and replied,

“Quit poking me”

***


Several hours later, Adam found himself clambering over a thin stretch of rocks, just at the other side of the field.
He wasn’t sure why, but he was perfectly clear were.
There was a rather quiet country lane a good distance away, yet between it and himself lay a dozen or so hedges, two fields and a small enclosure of trees. So it was that he made it his goal to get to that road, or die trying.

To be honest I think he was doing a very human thing, that is inventing new and extremely easy tasks to make up for the great many he had failed.

He was silent as he almost literally tore through the hedges, but once he got to the first field he spoke.
“Damn mud! Why does it have to be so muddy! I mean who needs mud anyway! Even the worms hate it!
Blast and botheration!”
In reply the little voice in his head said
“It’s just mud kiddo, shut-upa-ya-face”
So he did what was best and obeyed the voice.*

Just as he cleared the first field, he realised just how tired he was, and so he sat down on a nearby fence for a short while.

As he sat there it passed his mind, if only for a slight flickering moment that he should give up, at least it did until the bees came.
They were perfectly ordinary bees, yet very loud, as they flew about his head with sheer enthusiasm.
Perhaps to poor Adams broken mind, they were saying things like, “You can’t do it! BUZZZ!” and “Just as I BUZZZ suspected!” and that was likely why he swatted them with such force.
Minutes later he continued and despite being stalked by several sheep, he made it to the small patch of trees.

He had always liked trees, mostly because they could be climbed, but also because, under any amount of trees, there is a constant, whether it’s wet, hot, dry, dark or radioactive, it will always be the same.
Just bugs and leaves and possibly an evil witch or two.

After a short bout of walking, lo and behold!
There it was just twelve or so steps away, the ROAD!
‘Aha!’ he thought, ‘I’ll show those damned bees, and that accursed tree!’ and he ran forward with a cry of pure glee.

Now, I’m sure you’ve read many books in which one or more characters find their way into another world, therefore your perception will be slightly off.
Despite popular belief, one does not get into another world through wardrobes, paintings, holes in the air, or even old and seemingly abandoned police boxes.

No, the truth is much less pretty, to get into another world, you must be beat into it, and I mean such a smack that you quite literally end up in an entirely different place altogether.
Generally, most of these people die, and thus never make it, but say for example, you had the impression that you were immune to anything, I don’t know, perhaps you had practically pickled yourself in alcohol, then maybe, just maybe, you could survive a large collision, perhaps something like being hit by a very large and incredibly visible truck which happened to be driving past as you stepped onto the road.

It was a strange moment, one second Adam was enjoying a sense of glory, the next he heard the screech of wheels, followed by an immense ‘thud!’ which rivalled the sound made by the big bang.
The first thing he thought was ‘OW’ because generally being hit by something several hundred times your own weight hurts.
The second thing he thought was ‘I hope that buggers not insured’
As these thoughts came to him , that he felt an odd sensation, as though some almighty deity had snatched him up, tore him in half, and then tossed the other piece away, presumably before deciding he had better things to do.

So it was that as he flew through the air with tremendous force, that he got the impression that he’d left something behind, that wasn’t the contents of his stomach.
He was stuck like that for a few minutes like a grumpy leaf caught in the wind, before eventually it seemed like he had landed abruptly, in a large pool of icy water, yet he could breathe perfectly and no water was visible.

All around him lay what looked like nothing, I mean really nothing, not a black hole, or a white screen, just nothing.
“Oh NO!” yelled Adam as he looked about.
“I’ve lost my bottle!”


*If you start hearing voices, I suggest you ignore them, especially if they say things like “kill your family!” or “Don’t listen to that conscience, harps are sooo last century” Or possibly you are known to have psychopathic tendencies, as many of us are, then I suggest you just find a nice padded room, trust me, it works.

 

[ctg]

This is certainly one of the stranger ones. I don't know what to say, but you have very clear and somewhat fresh images throughout this piece. The only thing if I have pick on something is the omniscient narrator having first person POV in some places. I don't think it's wrong at all, just it gives reader certain mindset on finding how the heck the narrator is and why he/she knows so much. If you would've done this on character POV, you could have easily shown on how drunk Adam really was and why he is thinking suicidal thoughts. Although, don't think that you've to write in such a way as this piece works on its own.

 

[Pyar]

Very interesting, but it kinda bothered me that the narrator kept projecting his views into the story. I just want to read the story and make my own conclusions about what is happening from the point of view of the character or how the character is acting. It's a great story but I feel like the narrator is giving a disclaimer every other line about what is happening, when the story could just tell it self.

 

[TheEndIsNigh]

I liked it. Similar to how the guide in Hitch hikers sticks it's oar in in places or more surrealy - Jiminy Cricket.

 

[assassin]

Well you see, this is one part of three, which together make the first chapter.
Several people have also complained about the narrative, but in this part only, which is why i'm considering changing it.

well i guess, I should post the next part.
Oh and thanks for taking the time to read it.




CHAPTER 1 ~part 2
~In which questions of strange substance are posed, and the first nonsensical character makes an appearance ~

A rather unworldly sound shook the void, although how that was possible, no-one really knows.
But if Adam knew about the nature of physics in endless voids, it would have sounded like a plughole being created in the fabrics of reality in an empty void.

So he looked down, and sure enough, there was a hole amidst the nothing, through which he could see a grassy hill crowned with a few small trees, and not much else.
He took roughly three seconds wondering where he’d much rather be when he was dragged out of that place , as quickly as a cat can drag a pigeon, when provoked by nature and hunger, of course.

For a brief moment he fell towards the grassy hill quite slowly, and then as though gravity had changed its mind, he was flung backwards, and landed on something solid, so that he was facing the hill above him.
“I get the strangest feeling that something isn’t quite right here” he ventured.
He lay there a while, studying were the sky should have been, it was like a few of the grassy plains he’d know back home, beautiful , abundant in life and likely to stain his knees.
Finally, he came to the terrifying conclusion that ‘if what was supposed to be down here is up there, then what was supposed to be up there is down here’.
He felt the ground underneath him; it seemed solid enough, almost like polished glass.

So he cautiously stood up, and then quite quickly sat down again.
What he had seen in that brief moment had been as you would assume, a pale blue summer sky, strewn with wispy little clouds and illuminated by the sunlight below.
“Now I’m sure this isn’t right!” shouted Adam, but the sound just stopped, as though it had been cut off, not a single echo.
It was then, that for some reason, he wondered if his life was just some mediocre television series, and he briefly considered if it was seen as controversial and how much the writers were paid.

He sat there for a while longer, half afraid, half excited, until finally curiosity got the better of him, and he slowly stood up.
Once again, he was greeted by that fascinating and scream-inducing sight, and was able to deduce, by means of jumping up and about like a right prat, that the ground was indeed, very solid.
It was as if he was standing on an infinite pane of glass, just above (or below) the sky, which somehow let the clouds seep through, while still holding his weight.

He had always been very sceptical of clouds, from a young age, not only because they resembled disembowelled sheep, but because they could be anything, or anyone, and yet, when it came to it, they were just randomised drifts of gas.
‘Still’ he thought, ‘I’ve answered one question, if angels exist, I know how they might go about standing on clouds.’
He smiled to himself for a while, if it was one thing he enjoyed, it was obtaining knowledge.
For some reason, he decided that he ought to make list of questions which needed answered, and for yet another unknown reason, he had brought a pen and a small notepad, which simplified things greatly.
He took his time doing it, as he sat on (or at least in) a rather large and dry cloud, and when he was finished, he found some quite disturbing results.

Questions which need answered.

1. Is a note scribbled willingly ever random?

2. Is the pen really mighter than the sword?

3. How the hell do angels sstand on clouds?

4. How com the milk pours neatly sometimes, when it spills at others?

5. If death dies, do wee?

6. How is it possible that the entire world can support all that cnicism?

7. Whoo delivers the mailman’s mail?

8. How on earth can a god exist?

9. Can oranges make everyone turn orange more evenly?

10. What is the judge meaning when he gives the sentence of life?




Now unless you’re an idiot, you might realise that there are several things wrong with Adams list.
He most certainly did, and found it quite disturbing, not only because he was often a good speller, but because almost everything he said made sense to someone.*
So almost immediately, he went back to correct the spelling of his questions, and made a strange discovery, he could see the mistakes clearly, but as he went to correct them , he forgot what they were almost instantly, so that each time the pen touched the paper, he wondered what he was doing again.
Then he realised, with a slight touch of horror that he couldn’t remember even writing questions one, nine, and ten.
Perhaps, if he had taken the time to further study this page, and had maybe discovered the hidden words within, he would have been quite put off, and would have tore that page up, tossed the pieces away, and made his way home.
Unfortunately, the universe isn’t as kind as all that, in fact the universe is an extremely cruel place, even for the kind people, you spend all your life being nice, and then you die, hardly seems fair does it?
So instead, Adam just took that little piece of paper, and stuck it in his pocket, and perhaps by doing so, pronounced a certain doom upon himself.
Then, he decided that he wasn’t going to stand about asking questions to no-one in particular all day, and so he started to walk a little, slowly at first, but faster as he began to become sober.**
He enjoyed the cool air, and the calmness of the sky around him, and soon he forgot his every fear and want, and decided that if he could, he would walk along the sky forever, stopping only to drop things on people’s heads or to sleep amongst the clouds, surrounded by the pale tranquil bliss of non-existence.
Of course, after a while he changed his mind, not because he got tired or bored, but because there was a sudden change in the horizon.
Rather than nothing but white swirls and faint blues in the distance, there gradually appeared what seemed to be an opening of trees.
It was barely twenty meters away when Adam stopped, and gazed at this sight.
The trees were old trees, not ancient, but certainly a lot older than him, and three times his height, their leafy branches intertwined so that all that lay beneath them was shrouded in thick shadows that were only broken by the shafts of light that pierced through the canopy.
They were certainly nice to look at, because they gave you a sort of sleepy feeling, not just a normal tiredness of the limbs, but as though a weight had fallen on your shoulders, and a pleasant voice was whispering in your ear.

However, for now, Adams attention was entirely on the thing which had left the trees, and was slowly making its way towards him, without pausing in the slightest.
He stared at it hard, and then blinked before looking again.
It seemed that, unless he had completely lost it (which he may have, who knows?), a panther had appeared from beneath the trees and was slowly moving towards him.
*this is a lot harder than it sounds.

**I still to this day do not understand fully the effects of traversing worlds, on the drunkenness of humans, but evidentially it helped a lot.