Posts tagged ‘writing’

01/30/2012

Abnegate

by Pierce Nahigyan

Bob’s agent steepled his fingers in a very sinister manner and glared at him over the tips of his white-rimmed fingertips. He knew what the man was going to say, but he had yet to discover the amount of money required to get him to shut up. “Bob,” he said, “divorcing Helen was the worst thing you could do right now.”

Bob decided not to respond. But then he nodded. To be fair, wordlessly.

“I can’t believe you. The company is already expecting you to throw something together. Now they can expect a half-assed penny dreadful on top of the fact that it’ll be about sad, miserable heartbreak.”

That would turn out to be true in the coming months. Later, when the company chose to tear up his contract, and he had been forced to abnegate his beach house in lieu of his dingy, city apartment, his wife kept texting him torturous, minuscule details of her erotic life (and refusing to acknowledge even one emoticon in response), his agent finally dispatched mercenaries to drag him back to his writing table. All he wrote about was sad, miserable heartbreak, and it didn’t help, and it got worse.

But then he added vampires. And things took a turn.

12/06/2011

Abjure

by Pierce Nahigyan

“I abjure writing!” the ragman said, bursting into the courtroom to the awestruck stares and foul consternation of the people at work. “Never was any good at it but Hell I gotta tell someone. Hey! Did you hear me? I give it up!”

The guard tried to restrain the ragman but he tore himself out of the man’s arms and trailed thin pieces of himself as he approached the bench. “I wasted my time,” he said to the court. “I never did what I said I’d do, didn’t sit down, didn’t hack it out. Hacked it out, half-heartedly, let the whole thing go. Let it all go. I stunk! I never got any better!”

He slapped his hands down on the prosecution’s table. Each thump bumped another book off the side, the prosecutor dashed away to the jury, and the judge called for order. But the ragman kept on thumping. “I abjure, ya hear me! I dithered, man, I just didn’t have what it took. Cripes, I thought I had it, y’know, for a couple years I coulda swore I was the guy.” The guard threw his arms around the ragman’s shoulders and dragged him backwards. The ragman twisted and ripped but couldn’t quite get himself free. He writhed, in dry shreds, as they carried him up the aisle.

“Yeah, take me away, boys, maybe I’ll do better stamping license plates. Takes less time than writing, doesn’t require so many convictions. But, man, I just ain’t got it. You gotta be honest with yourself!” he cried out to the court. “You gotta say enough’s enough! Game over, no resets, pack it up and knock it off. I spoiled!” He leapt in the guard’s arms, leaping to the middle of the high doorway. “Any of you creeps try to lie your way outta this lifetime, I’m comin’ for ya! You step outta line and I’ll eat ya! I ain’t no ragman no more – I’m just a hungry BUM!”

Then the door slammed and the ragman was gone, a rowdy voice screaming in the hallway. And laughing, and laughing, and laughing like that was all he had to say.

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