Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Student Member Callum Chen20/Male/Unknown Recent Activity
Deviant for 2 Years
Needs Premium Membership
Statistics 3 Deviations 97 Comments 735 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Webcam

Groups

Activity


    It was a sunny day. The sky was a bright blue, with not a single cloud in the sky. The sun shone brightly down on the busy city of New York, heating the mass of bustling people going about their own business. Some were tourists, some salesmen, and some ordinary people who lived in the city. One ordinary girl was wiggling her way through the massive crowd, with a yellow backpack on her shoulder, bright orange sneakers on her feet, and a smile on her face. She had long, flowing black hair, and a spring to her stride. She seemed like a perfectly ordinary woman, with an ordinary career (she was a doctor), and an ordinary future.

    But she would only be ordinary for a little longer. In fact, she would only exist for a little longer.

    Scientists have always wondered how exactly the human brain works. Shrouded in mystery, all scientists know is that all the body’s functions, reactions, and capacities rely heavily on the brain.

    But if scientists would delve a little deeper . . . they would find something extraordinary. Something beyond imagination.

    Inside every human beings head– well, their skull to be exact– lies a small, empty cavity in the front of the skull, right next to the brain. In that cavity, your body’s immune system functions and capacities are controlled and managed by tiny, little people. Twenty little people to be exact. They are so small, even a microscope isn’t strong enough to detect them. These people, known as the Zamzë, hold more power over a human body than you think. Despite sounding a bit creepy, a human being cannot live without them. (But they can be rather annoying at times. They are the main cause of headaches when riled up. Those who get chronic migraines have very disagreeable Zamzë.) These people have power over your body’s health, and your life. They determine when and where it is time for you to die. One wrong move, and it would be a disaster.

    Now, this girl (Silly me, I should address her by her name, Clara), also has tiny people living inside her head. However, that does not make her any less ordinary.

    Clara weaves around people, checking her watch again. She calculates her speed, and assures herself that she’ll make it to work on time. Smiling again, she keeps walking. The glare of the sun in her eyes makes her squint to see properly, and she feels the beginning of a headache. Used to them, she keeps walking, figuring that a glass of cool water will fix it right away once she’s at work.

    But she’ll never get to work.

    Another woman, with blonde hair, is walking relatively close to Sarah. She is a tourist, coming to New York City for the first time. She doesn't notice Clara walking close to her.

    Until Clara collapses.

    Whirling around toward the sound of the thump, the woman finds, to her horror, Clara lying motionless on the ground.

    The woman immediately runs to her aid, flipping Sarah onto her back. Sarah’s eyes have rolled to the back of her head, and she lays limply on the ground. The woman reaches for her neck to check her pulse, and finds none. Frantically, she starts to give her chest compressions. Other people notice it too, and rush in to help, while others call for a medical unit.

But despite the woman’s efforts, it is too late. After two minutes of steady chest compressions, she stops. Staring down at Sarah in shock, she wonders what could have possibly happened. Then, as she later tells her friends, she thought she heard a little voice, shouting “WE  . . . ARE SO  . . . SCREWED!”

    And that’s what makes Sarah not-so-ordinary. Her Zamzë made a mistake. A big mistake. A mistake of horrendous consequences. A mistake that rivals George Armstrong Custer’s. One of the worst mistakes a Zamzë can make. A mistake that hadn't been made in over twenty-thousand-four-hundred-and-thirty-three years.

    They killed their human by accidentally hitting the ‘heart attack’ button while quarreling among themselves.

    They are, indeed, so very screwed.
Itty Bitty People and the Human Brain
This is part of a story I've been working on for a long time. I'll probably upload more of it later. 

It's meant to be a comedy sci-fi sort of story. There's so much more to this story than posted, and I can't wait to have more of the pieces fall into place.
Loading...
      I am trapped.

    Trapped in a net of poverty and duty that I have no chance of escaping from. Being a bootlegger didn’t turn out as easy as it seemed. It isn't just delivering booze to clients in the middle of night. It's the fear of being caught by the police . . . I'd get years in jail for a bootlegging conviction. And rival bootleggers who are desperate to get rid of other competition will kill you. I was cocky, and thought that it wouldn’t be so hard. I got in knowing it was plenty dangerous, though. I knew that I might get killed by a rival. But I have a family to feed. They depend on me, I’m their crutch. I have t’ earn money for them. If only mum would get a real job instead of whoring around the city, creating even more mouths to feed. Don’t think that I don’t love my family. I do. But how can I be happy, and truly live, if I have to always take care of them? Day after day I work, selling booze and dodging the police, while dreaming of travel and different places.

    I used to love looking at Da’s maps, of the pictures he had. He was a dreamer too, like me. We spent hours t’gether, talking about different places. India, Russia, Scotland, you name it. He worked in an honest job, unlike me. ‘Course, when he died, Mum got rid of all his maps and pictures. It made her sad to look at them. I never stopped dreaming about them though. But those dreams remain dreams, for all the money I earn is spent by my family, for food and clothes, which we never have enough of. My Da used to earn all our money. When he died, we went flat, so I had to get a job. But I didn’t have the education needed for most of them. So, I did next best thing. Bootlegging.

    I feel suffocated in our tiny apartment, which isn’t nearly big enough for eight people. With my Mum, Gramma, three younger sisters, two little brothers, and another on the way, it’s choking. I spend most of my non-working time wandering the streets of New York alone, walking in the quieter parts, watching the lights twinkle from the city’s buildings.

Or with you. You, my darling, are my most prized companion. I still remember the day I first met you, when I saw you feed that poor old dog. I knew right then that you had a heart. I feel content with you, and I trust and love you more than anyone else. But, I think I won’t be able to be with you as much anymore. I tried to leave the business ‘bout two weeks ago. I talked to my boss, Al Capone, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. I pleaded and begged, but instead of giving me my freedom, he tightened his hold on me more. I believe I am to die soon, Sarah. Capone . . . he doesn’t tolerate deserters. I think he’s afraid I’ll rat him out somehow, even though I ended up staying. The police may be lax on the law, but it’s still the law. Some enjoy their booze too much, but others don’t even touch it. Bootlegging requires good deception skills, but those skills can be used against Capone, and he knows it. I realized my mistake too late, after talking with him. I’ve seen men trailing me, silent, just watching. More and more follow me by the day, wearing irons. They’re waiting for a good moment to kill me. I feel their growing presence like a tightening noose around my neck. I may get my freedom, but not in the way I like. But I won’t run away. I’ve gotta take care of my family, even if it kills me. I’ll care for them ‘til the end. Whether I die by a bullet to the head, or from my own despair, I don’t know. It’s hard for me to accept that I will never be truly free. The bonds of duty to my family are too strong. I’m crushed knowing I have t’care for them for the rest of my life. But some days, when the sky is bright blue, and there’s a pleasant breeze, the strongest urge to run away comes to me. I think, this time I’ll do it, and I won’t go back! I can be free at last! And the joy, oh the joy that fills me when I even think of it is indescribable.

    But at the end of the day, reality sets back in, and that joy is snuffed out. I want to stop bootlegging. I want to get a real job, so that I can support my family and not hav’ta worry about having cuffs slapped onto my wrists. And if I got a real job maybe my mum would get a real job too. And maybe . . . just maybe . . . I could leave someday. Maybe we could leave together.
                                                     
    Night falls faster now that it’s fall, so I must be going before it’s too dark. Those men have the advantage over me at night, when I can’t see them. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but it shall be soon. Let’s just hope that it’s not in the afterlife.
Prohibition Monologue
This is one of my favorite works, personally. It's short, but I devoted a lot of time to it, trying to perfect the emotions I wanted to convey in the story. 

It's a monologue, told from the point of view of a man working in the bootlegging business. I had been participating in a monologue writing workshop at the time, and they had actors come in and read them out loud to everyone. It was pretty neat. 

It's based in the 1920's to 1930's roughly. I used a real historical figure, Al Capone, who was a famous bootlegger during Prohibition in the U.S. 

Anyway, that's that. :V
Loading...

deviantID

Otama-Owl
Callum Chen
Artist | Student | Literature
free kitty with pool icon by cottoncritter

Icon by Ask-Mitsuki

I'm a writer. :iconkermityayplz: I write pretty much anything, going from horror, suspense and mystery to comedy, humor and action (don't forget fanfiction!). Unfortunately, I forget to upload my work about 90% of the time.

Spirited away icons6 by SpiritedAwayClub writer stamp by barefootphotos it mocks me by ajCorza

Originality's hard :stamp: by RAE-J From Lavi to OCs by ChikitaWolf heart nature stamp by izka197

Support Equality Stamp by RoseSagae Fighting Stamp by coolcat654 Slow internet... by prosaix

Nananana Stamp by Kezzi-Rose Oddly hypnotic Sherlock stamp. by LetsSaveTheUniverse Hufflepuff-Stamp by Dinoclaws

CAT Divider by tesumii
Interests

Journal

No journal entries yet.

AdCast - Ads from the Community

×

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconcottoncritter:
cottoncritter Featured By Owner Sep 18, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Rainbow Rose Thanks so much for +watching me! beeeeeee 
Reply
:iconyamixhikari:
yamixhikari Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2012
Thanks for :+fav:ing! :love:
Reply
:iconnamenotrequired:
namenotrequired Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2012  Student Interface Designer
Thank you for watching me :D
Reply
:iconotama-owl:
Otama-Owl Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2012  Student Writer
No problem~
Reply
:iconfunkadelicpsychofish:
FunkadelicPsychoFish Featured By Owner Oct 14, 2012  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thank you for the fav! :D
Reply
:iconotama-owl:
Otama-Owl Featured By Owner Oct 14, 2012  Student Writer
No problem (:
Reply
:iconzodiacgal:
zodiacgal Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
LOL I see you're looking through my stamp, judging by your stamp folder XD
Reply
:iconotama-owl:
Otama-Owl Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2012  Student Writer
:iconguiltyplz: pretty much yea. You've got some great stamps.
Reply
:iconzodiacgal:
zodiacgal Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Why thank you~! You should put some on your profile~
Reply
:iconotama-owl:
Otama-Owl Featured By Owner Oct 13, 2012  Student Writer
Sure, why not? But how do I put them on my profile anyway? orz
Reply
(1 Reply)
Add a Comment: