posted on Aug, 25 2005 @ 01:20 AM
A while ago somebody brought up the idea of writing stories that started at the end and worked backwards. It seems like it'd be a bit of a challenge,
so I'm trying it. Don't be shocked if what little plot there is should break down at some point, because I never organize my writing ahead of time.
My stuff just writes itself.
The idea I've got basically just follows a young man from being an innocent, bored highschool graduate who wants to get out and "live a little" to
being a sonar operator in the US Navy who experiments with assorted vices, and in the course of "living a little" ends up being killed.
Chapter 1: All good things must come to an end.
It only took a few seconds for me to give up on looking around. There was nothing but darkness to see, and the lights were not coming back on. I
turned to my fine-tuned ears to be my eyes, but I did not train them on the compartment around me. I kept my headphones on. Perhaps I'd hear the call
of some strange creature no man had seen before.
What must be out there, in the dark and cold? Were they large or small? Might teeth like saw blades or fangs like daggers bristle in strange,
enlongated jaws, waiting for some unsuspecting fool to come inquiring as to the bioluminescent glow of the eyes? Or were they but amorphous blobs,
complex integrated communities of simple, single-celled organisms, still evolving in the unseen abyss?
I could but wonder, but I had no need to fear. I might hear them, but never would I see them. Soon the walls around me would buckle, then break.
Maybe they'd strike me dead, or maybe I'd live to cower from them and wait in the dark as the cold sea rushed in around me. Maybe we'd be on the
bottom by then, or maybe we'd tumble into some trench and fall farther still. Or maybe there was no buttom. Maybe my corpse would freefall forever,
unless it was eaten and kept at some level by whatever scavenger had made use of me.
I didn't really care. I'd been all business just ten minutes ago. I'd done my job well. I told the chief there was something out there, but I was
pretty green. He didn't trust me, and when he took the headset he'd heard nothing. I glanced back to where the chief lay dead behind me, but my
sight could not pierce the gloom. We got the last shot in- and we had the truer aim. I'd listened with sick satisfaction as the other sub broke up.
They might have never known they'd lost. Lucky them. The last laugh was theirs.
If my mind was determined to wander though, I thought perhaps I ought to reflect on happier times before my time was up. So I did.
"Damnit Hobbes, I'm trying to save you from yourself but you just don't like money do you! Where did you get the pot-odds for that call?"
I rolled my eyes at my would be teacher. Petersen thought he was god's gift to poker, but I was only setting him up for a lesson. I still had twelve
dollars. More than enough to play a few more hands and take him when the cards were right.
"Um, well... I thought you were supposed to semi-bluff sometimes so that people can't tell what you've got all the time."
"Not like that fool! You should have folded after the turn card, you lost a dollar more than you had to."
I paused and looked around the room.
"Why do I need a dollar in a tin can 500 feet under water off the coast of the arsehole of the world?"
He didn't answer. He was happy to take rake in my money, one 50 cent raise at a time. When our patrol was over and we headed for the Australia I
might have missed it, but only if my plan failed.
He dealt again, I had a pair of threes. I called the blind, Petersen raised, Vargas raised, the other guy called. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten
his name for the third time. Arriving at a new unit always sucked like that. I liked what I saw- lots of high cards out there. If I caught trips one
of them would be my sucker for sure.
Petersen turned the first three community cards. The flop was just what I wanted, 3, 6, 8, each a different suit. Almost no chance of a flush or
straight, and probably nobody running a higher three of a kind than my 3s.
Vargas bet and Whatshisname called. I looked at Petersen and thought on it for a second before I called. Petersen raised to feel me out. The other two
called. If I called the cat was out of the bag- unless they really thought I was a moron. I raised, maybe they'd think I was trying to bluff my way
out of the next round of the big raises after the turn. Petersen raised again, thats it- he had to have aces if he was pulling this with the other two
still in. They both folded- I gave the final raise and he called it. He turned the next card- if he caught a thrid ace I was sunk. But he didn't, It
was another 8. The full house didn't help me really. He didn't need an ace anymore, an ace or an 8 would leave him with a better full house than
mine. I checked then called his bet. You're not supposed to do that, but I forgot. I got lucky- the last card was no help to either of us, but now I
couldn't bet without letting him know i'd one. I check raised to squeeze an extra 50 cents out of him. It worked. $8.50- not bad for one hand. I'd
have to change tactics now and go conservative for a while before I could go back to bluffing, but with a few more plays like that I'd be OK.
By the time Petersen had to go to his station I was up 39 bucks, plus some naked pictures of Whathisname's ex-girlfriend. His name turned out to be
Franklin. My first assignment, just six months into my Navy career, practically my first time really away from home, and I was already gambling for
nude pics of other guy's women. Shame you can't write home about that sort of thing. I sure was proud.
[edit on 25-8-2005 by The Vagabond]