Writing The White Zone [T-VL]

[Albert Flasher]

[COLOR=Sienna]The White Zone is a story I've been working on for a while now... this is chapter one, but I have five done already. I won't post them all at once, but I was getting some positive vibes over at FictionPress.com and I wanted to see what the Otakuizens thought about it... Read and Respond.

[CENTER][B]The White Zone[/B][/CENTER]

Darkness is quite a difficult thing to describe. The word itself conjures up images of starless nights or dank dungeons or the like, but very rarely does it conjure up an accurate description of the word. The reason for this is, simply, very few people have ever actually seen (although maybe that?s not the right word) complete and total darkness. The absence of light, feeling, sensation? it?s all a very alien concept to us.

It was too me, at least. So alien, in fact, that when I first encountered it, I was rather certain that I was dead, and that St. Peter and his angelic retinue would be along any moment to collect me and usher me through the Pearly Gates flanked by a choir of angels. I didn?t think this was such a bad thing. After a while, I began to wonder what was taking St. Peter so long, and eventually abandoned the thought altogether. Still, the darkness remained.

Allow me to attempt to describe the sensation ? or lack thereof ? I was presently experiencing. Imagine being blind, deaf, and dumb, and you?ll be on the right track. Imagine being weightless, but without the sense of freedom; being numb, but without the tingly feeling; imagine all these things and you might begin to grasp the situation I found myself in.

I remember very little about what I?d been doing before the darkness. A part of me seems to recall something about an airport terminal and an issue involving my luggage, but I generally considered this part of myself to be untrustworthy, and just naturally assumed I had, someway or another, died. This, I guessed, was what the rest of eternity would be like, and, while I wasn?t especially happy, I understood that there was nothing to be done about it, and resigned myself to pondering the mysteries of the universe, something I?d never had time for previously. Indeed, I was rather enjoying myself, when something unexpected happened.

It was unexpected because it was normal. At least, kind of normal, as normal as a voice in the complete and total darkness could be. It was a woman, I think, with a difficult-to-place accent. She sounded like the lady who makes the ?lost child? announcements at the supermarket. I couldn?t tell what direction the voice was coming from, but I knew it was close. It said:

?The White Zone is for loading and unloading only.? The voice droned, with an obviously-forced cheeriness that made me want to smack whoever the owner was with a shovel. The voice wasn?t done. ?If you have something to load or unload, please go to the White Zone.? Adding, after a pause, ?You?ll love it.?

This was, as you might imagine, quite perplexing. What the hell is she talking about? the part of me not dedicated to calculating the answer to six-times-seven asked, The White Zone?

?The White Zone?? the voice began again, exactly as it had before. Then it donned on me. It?s a recording! Maybe this is an airport afterall! I was so surprised by this revelation that I almost failed to realize that my sensation had returned. Up was up, down was down, and I could feel a cold, hard floor beneath me. For a moment, I was rather disappointed. Then I realized that the darkness remained, and decided to open my eyes, something I immediately regretted.

In place of the all-consuming darkness stretched an infinitely-more-irritating, equally-all-consuming brightness. This I have no trouble describing; you know all those interrogation scenes in old movies, where they shine that ultra-bright light in the guys face? Imagine that, but everywhere. Absolutely everywhere.
The shock of this ? going from total darkness to complete brightness ? was rather devastatingly painful. I hissed, slammed my eyes shut-tight, and cupped my hands over them, but I still couldn?t block out all the light; it just seemed to penetrate everything.

However, it didn?t take long for the shock to pass; it was still difficult, but I managed to open my eyes and take in what there was to take in. I squinted, I strained, I rubbed my eyes, blinked, and rubbed again, but could not change what lay before me: white.

In all directions: up, down, left, right, behind me and in front of me, an endless, featureless stretch of white light. However, this was not like the darkness, not at all; I was here, I could look down and see myself, (even if I was, seemingly, standing on thin air), I could hold my hands in front of my eyes and see them, I could run my tongue along my gums and feel it. I was here, and I was alone.

?The White Zone,? the voice started again, reverberating from every direction at once, louder then I remembered ?is for loading and unloading only. If you have something to load or unload, please go to the White Zone.

?You?ll love it.?
[/COLOR]

[2010DigitalBoy]

[COLOR=DarkOrange]So fa rthis is quite interesting and more than a little bit trippy. I like your almost conversational tone in describing things while still managing to get in image in our heads. I hate when an author says 'it was unimaginable' and doesn't allow us to get a mental image - a bomb you did a good job diffusing.

I know your story is good namely because I'm eager to figure out what the white zone is, what's being unloaded or loaded, and what te hell's going on. Hopefully you'll be able to keep my interest up, coz this is shaping up to be an interesting tale.[/COLOR]

[Albert Flasher]

[COLOR=Sienna]Thanks for the response... as I said earlier, I've already got five chapters complete, although I am in the process of refining and rewriting them, but I'll post chapter two now. It's an interesting chapter but I'll admit it doesn't serve much purpose other then an excuse for me to put another cliffhanger in there... things start to pick up by the third. Although I really would like some actualy criticism for once, hah, everywhere I post this I just get superlatives and I want someone to tell me how to improve my writing.

[B][CENTER]Chapter Two - Pacing the Cage[/b][/center]

I used to be quite fond of white. I had a house, once, that was painted white, with a white picket-fence, with a garden out front that contained primarily-white-flowered plants. My dog was white, and I seem to recall our car being white aswell. Wait, did I make that up? I don?t even know anymore? regardless, it was white, and I was quite fond of it.

I can?t say that I ever had an opinion either way in regards to constantly-looping, insufferably-cheerful recordings, actually, but I can?t imagine that I?d be especially fond of them.

Now, and I can say this with authority, I do not believe that there are two things that I hate more then the colour white and obscure, confusing recordings. As the saying goes, familiarity makes enemies of friends, and I was getting all the familiarity I could handle here in the White Zone.

I assume it?s the White Zone, anyway. I cannot be sure, because, of course, no one has directly indicated whether this is, in fact, the White Zone, or just an arbitrary zone that also happens to be inescapably white. Nonetheless, I will continue to refer to it as the White Zone, because that is far shorter.

At first, I held out hope that, just over the horizon, I would see something? anything. Maybe a peculiar shade of blue, or maybe I?d find the darkness again; in fact, anything but this blinding white would be just fine. I mean, my chances of being ambushed by a grue are statistically nil here, but, past that, there are few checkmarks in the ?pros? column.

Did I mention that, at some point between he 15th time the message reminded me of the purpose of the White Zone and the 15th time the message informed me of how much I would enjoy myself there, I went rather spectacularly mad? It took me rather a while to realize this myself, actually. It only donned on me that I had been abandoned by my sanity long ago by the time the message played itself out the 26th time? For some reason, this was terribly funny.

So, essentially, this is what would happen: the recording would begin to play, I?d laugh and roll around on the endless plain of white until I could take no more, then the recording would end, I?d sob softly to myself and wish I was home, then the recording would play, I?d laugh and forget all my troubles, and then the recording would end, and, well, you get the point.

This went on for quite a long time. It must have been days, although I had no way of keeping track of time, so I?m not sure. Curiously, I never felt short of breath, nor hungry, nor the need to use the toilet. It was all rather convenient, and it was all rather enjoyable, the same way a 6-piece puzzle is enjoyable to a toddler. I became so settled into this routine, in fact, that it never occurred to me that anything would emerge to interrupt it, and I was rather contented this way.

But, as I?ve learned time-and-time again, the moment you least expect something is typically the moment it is most likely to occur.

This, of course, would prove itself true. The recording stopped. There was a curious scraping sound, followed by a small, high-pitched tone, and then the voice came again, this time obviously live, and with a new message, no less confusing then its last.

?Yes, Mr. Goode. Yes, we are processing now. Please be patient, Mr. Goode. There is no need to yell.? It was like listening to the receptionist?s end of the conversation at a phone company, and the costumer didn?t seem pleased. ?Yes, Mr. Goode, you may proceed.?

Even the insane majority of my mind failed to find the humour in this. I got to my feet and stared into the distance excitedly; something was happening.

?Thank you for using the White Zone for your loading and unloading needs.?[/COLOR]