Offbeat Outcome

This "book" is about me, it is about life, it is about not knowing what plot twist will come next. You may find more than those 3 things among the chapters, both accidentally and purposefully I have added hidden meanings to these tales. Some of these stories may be true, others not so much. Once an assignment for class, this book has moved beyond those limiting requirements. So enjoy these following chapters, they are free after all.

He was confusion. A mangled mess of a mind trapped in its thoughts. Unable to perceive its true state. Memory, he had taken it for granted and it had deserted him. He was alone, nobody could or would help him. They did not understand, he did not want to explain. Confusion wracked his mind, what could he do. He was lost, his thoughts clouding out the truth. What if they found out, the others. The ones that weren't him. They would blame him, tear him apart, they did not care. They only cared about it. It, he hated it, it was all its fault. It had sat there, looking innocent, a small cylinder on a flat surface. Sitting there in silence, waiting for him to come. And he had come, he had walked right up to the cylinder and it had happened. A force beyond his control tripped him and he stumbled, knocking the cylinder over. Soda poured out of it, onto the carpet. He was in so much trouble.

"They are gonna say it" he thought to himself, sitting there in fear. "Why do they always say it like that. Could it be that hard to say another way? It probably is." He thought, but that didn't make it any better. If he had a dime for every time someone said it he would probably have $32.53 by now. Not that there was any importance to that number, it just seemed like it fit the situation. He waited, it would happen, he knew. They were in order, those words, and the ones he feared were coming up soon. A pause, the person talking had paused, it was time for them to say it. Time for them to take those words and ruin their meaning, their style, their dignity. They cleared their throat and looked up, "Stefan Eekmen" they questioned. He sighed and raised his hand. Someday they would get it right, they would all get it right.

Everyone did it, you weren't cool if you didn't. It was fun, the best way to spend your time. The flashing lights, the odd sounds, the monsters attacking you. It was the newest craze. $30 in stores everywhere. Completely legal for all ages and no lasting side effects. Some people said it was bad, and it was soon banned from school. But that didn't stop us. We kept doing it, playing the games. It was crazy, who knew storing monsters in pocket sized balls and making them fight each other would be so much fun. We spent every second of our free time forcing these creatures to fight. On the few times we weren't doing that, and were lucky enough to be home. We would fight monsters and travel time using a sword and ocarina. Had we spent our time doing something more productive we probably could have ended world hunger. But what did we care, we were kids and we loved video games.

He declared what he wanted and they obeyed. He was in charge, it was up to him what they did. They were his servants, waiting on his beck and call. They had devoted their time to serving and he knew it. Their life was consumed by the need to serve. He knew that, though he had just met them, they would serve him well. Their uniforms were clean, the words they spoke were polite, and an air of confidence surrounded them. It was obvious they had gone through rigorous training to get where they were and should they fail they knew their jobs would be forfeit. He waited, they would soon return with that which he had requested. It had cost him a small fortune, a large portion of his immense wealth. He looked to his side, they were coming. In their hands were trays, trays carrying the valuable items he had requested minutes before. He desired it beyond anything else, he had to have it. "Did you order the large plate of chicken wings?" they asked. "No…" he sighed, "wrong order." They had failed him.

Noise, it surrounded him, though nobody was speaking. The sound of wind, the sound of music, a slight hum, these sounds had droned on for hours. Pausing once or twice, but always returning. He had woken early, much earlier than anyone should. He had dragged himself to this place, half asleep, he had to be here, though he did not enjoy it. He was disconnected, cut off from civilization, left to fend for himself in this place of isolation. He was hungry, but there would be no food for hours. He had no control of when or where he would eventually eat. He could complain, but who would listen? Certainly not the others here, for yes there were others, 3 others to be precise. They talked little, and often not to him, they provided very little in the ways of entertainment. They sat, they slept, they sighed, they stayed. They had been there at the beginning of the day, and would stay until the end. Driving to Indiana sure is boring.

This was, without a doubt, the most important day, hour, and minute of his life. It was his purpose, his reason for being, he had spent his life preparing for this moment and anything he did afterwards will just pale in comparison. Years of school had prepared him, honed his mind, his reflexes, and made it possible for him to reach this day so soon. Others were jealous, that was a given. You don't get this far in life without making a few enemies. They were always plotting his downfall, given up their normal lives in exchange for the revenge they wanted so badly. So far he had outsmarted them, bested their best and left them amazed at his genius. He had thought through every trick, every prank, and every trap they laid for him. They could not defeat him, he was sure of it. he had covered every weakness, thought of every possibility. Only luck itself could remove him from his place. First Place, it was his, all his. No one else could be first, that wouldn't make sense. He would forever rule the 2nd grade spelling bee… until 3rd grade, that is.

He ran, and ran, and ran. He ran as long as he could, as fast as he could. He turned his head, they were catching up. They had been chasing him for a mile now, trying to catch up to him and beat him. He could not allow this, today was supposed to be a happy day, it was a Friday after all, everyone likes Friday. This was not the case though, if they caught up to him his day would be ruined. They were evil, the people chasing him. They followed him, unrelenting in their pursuit, visibly showing their desire to catch him. He strained himself, they were getting closer, his small lead was failing. They were close enough now that he could hear their every breath. One in particular, the largest and meanest looking of the group was now directly behind him and closing the gap. He ran faster, the fastest he had ever run. But it was all for nothing, just as he was nearing safety his feet failed him. He tripped on a rock, a shoelace, or some other unseen obstruction on the flat pavement. He fell forward, his life flashing before his eyes. This could be the last thing he ever saw, the cold hard pavement rushing towards his face. Then he caught himself, landing on his hands, but it was too late. He had lost the race.