Well, I had another thing to write for a class I'm taking. the assignment was write about a character from one of the books we've read as if you were [s]he, transported into present day 2008. I took that and twisted it a little bit and this is what I came up with. a 12 page (1.5 spaced on her instruction) Sci-fi based 2008. The character I'm basing it on is Mr. Charrington from the book 1984.Warning: first paragraph is kind of graphic.
Note:This is a work of fiction. all the Characters,organizations, and events portrayed in this short story are products of my imagination, and are used fictitiously.
The true life of Mr. Charrington
A High pitched whistle tore into the dead of night shortly followed by an earth shattering boom. Soon panicked voices were added to the racket. Sleepily He got out of bed and limped over to the now ajar door, and walked down the rickety stairs to the shop beneath. A louder and more violent boom closer rocked the little shop causing catastrophe among the shops items, causing them to hit the ground and shatter. After one Item fell, it caused a sequence of other items to fall making a domino effect among all the valuable antiques he sold. He tried to scramble out of the building to see what was going on out-side, but before he could reach the door, another high-pitched whistle tore into the night. He looked up at the storefront to see a missile breaking through the top of the door. Time seemed to stop, as had sound as he looked at it breaking through his store. It seemed to him as if an eternity had passed as the missile came crashing through his storefront, Bricks were slowly cascading toward the ground, wooden planks were splintered and seemed to be a million metal pins streaking toward him, the glass beneath the rocket shattered from the force pushing down on it and skittered across the ground, and then time sped up with the sound of a gunshot. Cold sweat trickled down his spine and beaded on his forehead, a look of utter shock creased his face as he felt the missile hit him square in the chest. Sudden pain shot into his body, every nerve on end as it penetrated into his body. Blood spurted scarlet on the walls as the tail passed through his still live body. He opened him mouth to scream, but no sound escaped his mouth only blood trickled out and down his cold blue lips. And then the sound of a hammer striking an anvil and then all went black as his lifeless body was flattened by the force of the explosion.
He first noticed a bright white light aimed at his eye, everything seemed muted, except for his body. It hurt as if someone had used a sledge hammer on his ribcage rapidly until all of his ribs were shattered. Suddenly he heard an insistent voice calling his name and shaking him slightly. “Mr. Charrington. Mr. Charrington please open your eyes. We’re not going to hurt you, open your eyes please.” He thought to himself “ Odd that I should only be asked to open my eyes. I should be dead… I remember the pain, I remember the sight, I remember what was happening…why am I not dead? Oh how I wish the pain would stop…” Then the voice started again, “Mr. Charrington, Open your eyes please, the pain will all stop, the dream will stop if you open your eyes.” Then he did obey the voice, and opened his eyes despite his instincts. Oh how he wished he could just fall back asleep and let the dream over come him again. It was a man leaning over him, holding a pen light nearly an inch away from his eyes. He was in a white lab coat that has a red collar, and trim following two lines of buttons going down to his waist. From what he could see of the man, he wasn’t lean, but nor was he fat. He also had a great deal of facial hair. And then he spoke again, a little muffled, “Mr. Charrington, please if you will…if you feel up to it, please tell me, what happened to you when you died.”
“Who…are you?” he managed to say through the pain. “I’m your assigned caretaker.”
“Caretaker for what?” He blurted out with a gasp of pain from inhaling. “Do you not remember why you are here?” the care taker asked astounded. “The last thing I remember is being hit in my shop by a missile, and then what I thought and hoped would be death…” he said as his voice trailed away. “You can’t honestly mean that…you have been here you entire life, grown old ere in my care, I’ve raised you since you were brought here by your mother-”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember anything. Anything at all from what you say in my real life. I only remember my life as I lived in in my mind, what ever that really was. If you don’t mind, I would like to know what is going on. I’ve lived my life until I was old with wrinkled skin, graying hair, false teeth, among other things I’d rather not discuss.”
“I know every thing that has gone on in your mind Mr. Charrington. I followed you every step of the way, weather you were aware of it or not. I’m what you thought of as a guardian Angel , or at least I’m sure you have read about them in books. You see, we here at the World Challenges and Problems Institute have found a way to keep some one alive for more than 1000 years of age. The only thing we need to do is send them into their minds, they make a world, or join a world in a book as you have done, until the person dies of old age in his mind, and then the person comes back to reality- just as you are experiencing now- and then lives among us for a while until they find a suitable world for them to live in again and is whisked away into their mind for another Human Life time. It is quite a remarkable system it you think about it.” he finished with triumphant air about him, holding his hands at the hips.
“So, your telling me that I’ve lived a part life? A life I dreamt up myself when I was younger? Then why don’t I remember anything of my past? My mother, my father, siblings, what my likes and dislikes were, who my family was, anything, why can’t I remember? I’ve spent what I thought was my life as an antique dealer or at least I doubled as one, to find answers to the past, to remember my past, but even then with my surroundings fogged with ancient items of the past. I never knew what my life was as a kid. And when I find myself dieing, the last thought-or at least they were my last thought- were maybe in the afterlife I’ll finally have the answers I have been looking for. Now I find my self alive again, in my supposed real body, and I still cant remember. I wish I would have died really back there. To be let down, after acceptance of death, and the wish of information, it’s been taken away yet again in my life. What is worth while in my life if I can never remember my past, never remember love, never remember hate, never remember how it is to live fully. I’ve never been aloud to live as I should, as my soul would see fit. Why?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Charrington… I truly am. But I can’t give you any answers except that you will find out everything in the near future. We train the people who are our Brain Sleepers in current events, and let them live in the real world for a few days and go back into their sleep.”
“Why only a few days? Why not a month or a year?”
“Well, out of your Brain induced sleep, you age like I would normally, but in your Brain sleep you age 300% slower. If you are awake too long your life will be dramatically shorter, you can of course stay here if you want, we’d gladly set up funds for your living expenses, buying new clothes, and everything else you’ll need to survive.” The Care taker started pacing with a frown creased on his face. “you have been alive for over 500 years. The longest living being in the solar system to out knowledge, you could be paid extensively by Scientists just to ask you a few questions. You could live very comfortably here only getting paid for answering questions.”
“I…I can’t begin to tell you how many unanswerable questions I have. My government I was just in, kept the truth from everyone, kept perpetual war ongoing, endless suffering for “the good of our common goal” it was called. I was a spy, told to rent out my room to whoever wanted it, and spy on them and catch them committing acts of treason against the Parties. Then they would send them to be tortured let free after they learned the ways of our culture, and why we do it, and then be shot. Do you know how bad it feels to be forced to do something that gets people killed. People who only want to be free? People who have the right mindset, to turn them in, and get them tortured, and killed? Do you know how that feels? It killed me inside…to do that to countless people. I was glad to leave my life there! I wanted to die! Why did you have to take that away from me! How could you!” he screamed at the man. He meant every thing he had said. He had been torn up inside. His mind was mush after all the party had done to him. He was only a shell of a person, with one thing he lived for: The Party. The care taker had only looked at him with knowledgeable green eyes, taking in his account of his life. He never so much as blinked, or moved his body. “Listen, Mr. Charrington, I know you have been through a lot. But please, calm down. You’re still injured and I can’t help you in the slightest. In a moment you’ll be taken to a classroom to be taught all you want and need to know, I can’t help you” he said again, “I’m only your care taker while you sleep.” With that he turned and walked away toward the small grey door, with a round window, and slipped out behind it with a small thud as the door shut. “Maybe I over reacted?” he thought to himself. “maybe it was too much for the fellow. I’ll have to say I’m sorry next time I see him. If I ever do.” he sank back into his bed with little resolve about his actions. He still didn’t remember his real life. If this was his real life. He closed his eyes and talked himself to sleep twitching awake every few hours as bells and sirens chirped and rang all night.
“Mr. Charrington, wake up please, we now have room for you in a classroom. Please follow me after you’re dressed.” cooed a women’s voice jarring him awake for the last time that night. He didn’t really know what time it really was. There were no windows in his dismal room. Nor were there any instruments like in a hospital. In a corner furthest from him, there was a small table equipped with a light and a small pot of flowers that had long since died and shriveled to brown stalks with dust plastered on so thick it seemed to be painted with it. He wondered how and where he was going to dress himself, there weren’t any clothes in the small room, nor was there any place to wash up. He decided to that he had to get out of bed before they came back in. lifting the sheets to the bed, and uncovering himself, he was shocked to see that he was young, far younger than he was when he had died. Smooth muscles rippled down his body all the way to his feet, which were muscled, merely more athletic than a regular human foot. Getting out of bed wasn’t laborious as it had been. He was over joyed to see that he was able to walk standing straight up. He then realized that he did actually have a dressing area equipped with a line of clothes. He started thinking that this area wasn’t at all that bad until he remembered why he was there. He quickly got dressed and cleaned up and went out to meet a joyless woman standing at the door edge as to prevent him moving out of the door. “Hello Mr. Charrington please follow me, we’re going to teach you a bit, and then you’ll be allowed to go out into the town and do what ever you wish.” she said as she turned away and walked down the hall.
It appeared to be a very large hall, made of a stone he had never seen before. The ceiling was 20 feet above him and the walls only 10 feet apart. Their footsteps seemed to make a echo lasting forever. He then noticed how quite it was, there wasn’t anyone but him and the lady anywhere to be seen. “Um, Ma’am…is there anything or anyone else here besides me and you?”
“Why of course-” she said with a little laugh “Don’t be silly, there are millions of people here. All asleep or in a class.”
“Millions of people? You’d never know…it’s so quite…” he whispered as if not to wake anyone.
“No need to whisper. No one can hear us. Every cell is quite sound proof. We can’t have Brain Sleepers wake up every 4 or 5 days and have to re-dream every thing.”
They walked for what seemed to be hours to him, along rock walled halls echoes of their foot steps all the haunted them until they came to a door inlaid into the stone. “here you are dear. Please enjoy yourself. You can ask all the questions you like in here. They should be able to answer all of them.” With that she turned away from him and melded into the darkness of the following halls. He pushed open the door and walked into a room with 4 people in it, all wearing white lab coats and sitting at an old world wooden desk. “Please Mr. Charrington, sit down.” the closest one said gesturing toward a comfortable chair. “We’ve been looking after you for over 500 years now Mr. Charrington, did you know that? No I guess you wouldn’t know that you’ve been dreaming up terrible things to happen to you Mr. Charrington, not to scratch the surface of your problems, but you’ve also created a government system that threatens life the way it was meant to be lived. In today’s society that is a crime punishable by torture, or if your lucky death.” He turned to the other three people in white lab coats “Now, we are here to help you learn about our government system, how we have advanced, and what kind of speech is commonly used. The world has been since you last visited us in your conscious state of being taken over by our most caring ruler.”
“What! The world has been conquered ? How?”
Frowning at being interrupted he placed his elbow on the desk and his finger on his chin and started out drearily “He conquered the world with-out more than 100,000 causalities. Every one except a select few were willing to give up power to him. No one really knows how he did it. But he lives under the rule of world peace for once since the creation of earth it’s self.” his voice became more lively after the first few sentences. “ He has been ruling the world now for over 200 years. Yes 200 years. Rumor says that he has powerful magic controlling time, bending it to his will, and perhaps pushing it away from himself and his wife so they may live on forever to rule this now prosperous world. The world Order is now called World Peace Organization . or W.P.R. for short. No one thought to oppose him, only because his beliefs were right and just. Our world was on the brink of destruction, and this young man and woman started a campaign to save the world, and so they did in only 75 years they subdued all opposition, and now every one lives under one banner.
“We have many advancements in culture since your last visit Mr. Charrington, along with many downgrades to prove that life will be better if we use old world techniques in building, and our armies for instance. There aren’t any guns, or automatic firing mechanisms in existence. We’ve all moved back to the Mid-evil Era weaponry. People were surprisingly easy to let their guns go. Before he had taken this town over for instance, we were in civil war, half the town divided against the other, and we fought for 10 years, with the fear that our neighbor could be a spy out to kill us in our sleep.
Since then we’ve had many cultural changes, and mindsets have changed dramatically as well. we use to be in a world war, nearly every nation was depleted of resources. He led a group of ten thousand men into an area over populated with foreign troops outnumbering them 20-to-one. He came back with every one alive and the enemy troops turned to his side to fight along side him. The most amazing leader the earth has ever seen. And this is who we all bow to.”
He was quite speechless. He had come from a place where there were three super powers and no one could win. Then come to find out, this leader, under the rule of just, and right conquered the world…in only 75 years. He was astounded. The man hadn’t even told him the name of this great ruler.
“Mr. Charrington, do you have any questions thus far?”
“You mean to say there is more?”
“Oh yes. Quite more actually.”
“well, what is this great rulers name for starters”
After glancing at the other three people sitting next to him he turned back to him and started talking again in a monotone “The citizens just call him Ruler. But His real name is Istas Draen.”
“Why don’t I have any memory of my past? Of who I really am? Of who my family was? And when and where I was born?”
“Well…you see, when a person is put into a Brain Sleep, he looses some part of his memory. The only way to get the memories back is to find something in life that completes part of what you did in that said memory. Why you lost all your memory of your past isn’t common, but has happened before. Mostly the memories will come back with time, that is if you spend time with us here.”
He wanted to say nasty things to the men sitting in front of him. Rage and scream at them. But he thought wryly that they were only here to ‘teach’ him what he wanted to know, it’s his fault that he is asking questions that are unanswerable even by people taught to answer any question. “If I don’t stay here, and I go back into a brain sleep, would it be possible to remember any of this or people I met here?”
“No…I’m sad to say that when you go back into a Brain Sleep, if you choose to do so, you’ll not remember any of this.”
“I think I’ll choose to go back into a Brain Sleep…this world does sound as if it’s great, but I don’t think I’m ready to face a world ruled by a single body.”
“We haven’t even told you the best part yet! You can’t just go and choose without hearing our last bit of information.”
“Go on then.”
“You see, Istas Draen wanted to let all of the Brain Sleepers know that no matter how much they are afraid of joining a Dictatorship, that he as a ruler wants every one to be happy, and wants to hear from the brain sleepers, about how he could improve his regime. If say in your latest Brain induced sleep, you had a wonderful government, and had a suggestion to give to him he would be open to listen. This is open to solely the Brain sleepers because they are the only ones who try out these ideas for a lifetime. You people are his most respected advisors even if you don’t know it.”
He was shocked to hear this. This man seemed to be an honest Dictator. He must be the best ever to be able to accomplish what he has…but still something doesn’t seem right about this… “Could you tell him please, that Evil requires an iron grip on it’s population to survive. If evil holds everyone, a single person can’t go against the crowd of billions of people. But if people are disgusted with the way things are ran, they will rebel and produce a democracy. that’s what happened in my Brain Sleep.”
A wide grim spread across the panel of people sitting before him as they spoke at the same time “I’m sure he’ll be very happy to hear this.” Their voices together echoed around the room equally the same creating an eerie feeling. All four at the table suddenly stood up “ If you don’t have any more questions we have important issues to deal with.”
“Yes. What year is it?”
“2008” The man who had been talking the entire time had said. And before he could say a word they walked out of the room two a breast and with a small thud behind them the door swung shut. And then blackness fell across the room as if a giant shadow was sweeping through the room slowly from one end the room to the other leaving what it touched in pitch blackness not penetrated by the light that shone in the ceiling, that too was soon swept into blackness. And then it hit him and his head fell forward to the desk he was sitting at.
* * *
Fifteen Years Later
“Mom, can I please go to bed now? I’m so tired.” She pouted
“Sure, you’ve had a hard day in the fields. Go wash up first though.”
With sighs and groans of displeasure she walked out of the room. The girl thought to her self “That was simple. I’m surprised that they let me go so easily.” She was a young girl 15 years of age. Straight hair cropped short at the nape of her neck. The color of steel at such a young age. Calloused hands and feet came with the job of a farmers daughter, but beauty didn’t. she supposed that was why she was able to get away with so much. Deep down she wished her parents would be a bit harder on her. Getting to her bedroom in the small house took only a few seconds when you didn’t have parents listening to your every move. She had to act the part of being reluctant of washing up. But indeed she did want to. Grumbling to add to the effect she reached the door to the wash room. There wasn’t usually a wash room in houses these days. But her father sold produce and valuable grain to the estate of the lords manor. He was particularly happy with the prices one year and gave him something for it: A Wash Room. Once finished cleansing she opened the door on groaning hinges and gently shut it as she left. The house her family was rather small and made of mostly wood. Consisting of only 2 bedrooms, and a kitchen joined with eating area. Her edroom was the smallest but cleanest. She only had a bed and desk that paired as a dresser. It only enough room on the top for a small book and a candle. Tonight the book lay open with a quill pen and bottle of ink ready and a lit candle. She sat down and stared at the pages for a long time wondering what to write. This was her best friend. The only thing that would listen to her without judgment. Her parents wanted the best for her…but they didn’t know much about girls and were able to raise her as a girl, being taught in a mostly male school she was teased by every one, and on anything she did no matter what it was. Until one day it got over the top and she had to be taken out of school. And that thought spurred her writing the following.
My life has been underestimated by everyone I have ever known. My knowledge about life is second to none. I’ve had so many things happen to me in my life. Most of them are negative and I have learned from every one of my mistakes. Unlike everyone else…I know the value of life and what it means to live.
She lifter her pen to get more ink and then a thought crossed her mind…and she started to write again.
What if…is a question I’ve asked my entire life. Along with Why and How. The teachers at my old school weren’t very smart and didn’t have the answers to anything. My parents don’t care to know why, what if, or how. Am I the only one that needs to find out these questions? Am I the first one to ask questions like this? If I am the first to ask these questions I will be the first to get them answered.
“Dear, are you ready to go yet? The market starts at exactly high-noon and we have only 2 hours to get there as it is…” Said a middle aged women tapping her foot lightly on the hollow wooded floors.
“Yes, almost. Almost. Go and load up into the wagon with Lifia I’ll be there in a minute.” Answered a mans weary voice. “Alright…hurry up though!” Called the women again followed by the slamming of a door. Lifia was outside sitting on a bench just outside of the doorway cradling a kitten cooing to it lightly. She seemed to have a way with cats more so that any other animal she has been in contact thus far (which has been quite a lot!) in her life.
The road to the market was rather well maintained for a country road that dead ended at a farm. But it still had problem parts that required you to crawl at such slow speeds you could see ants scuttling along beside you faster then you were going. It also didn’t help that the bags and boxes of grain and Fruit weighted the wagon down enough so you felt every little jostle in the road. They managed to get to the yearly market faster than usual, which would have taken over 2 hours, they got there it seemed just before the Market opened. The calls of farmers saying “Fresh Produce for sale! Cheapest price in town!” The calls of weavers and tanners saying “ The nicest weave available! Guaranteed to keep you warm through-out the winter!” Calls from monks selling Crosses to save you from unknown Disease. Military recruiters saying “We’ll pay you the most for doing the least work! No Education needed past General Education for Recruits!” and the worst calls of all, from Peasants selling off their daughters for bondage. She didn’t listen to any of the cat calls directed toward her either. There were enough soldiers walking the streets to keep the men away from her thankfully. That coupled with her raptor gaze kept every one at bay. She was walking with deliberate intention of her destination. She was heading toward the Magicians Keep, where she wanted to ask a few questions of the local Mage. The entrance to the Keep was well guarded by men and magic, of which no one could pass without permission. Passing through the streets of crowded people, haphazardly placed shops, and carts loaded down by goods of unknowable kinds. The streets were loaded to maximum as were the erected building lining the streets which were three and four stories tall, crisscrossed two times each window was rope spotted with clothes waving in the warm wind. As she passed the buildings, the inhabitants looked out at the ground as if they were only looking out to see her, as if once she passed the window, they popped their head back indoors to again start what they were busy doing. She quickened her pace glancing back at the windows seeing the people still staring at her. Even as she passed their eyes were glued to her as if she were solid gold walking down the street. Every one seemed to be looking at her, the guards, the peasants, the shop keepers, the busy people walking around her. Pushing her out of their way as they passed, staring at her in a way that makes you shiver. She started to run down the road she so often took on her way to the Magicians Keep, running as fast as her legs would carry her. Blind panic griping its way ever closer. As she rounded a corner, glimpsing the keep walls she sighed with inner relief as she skidded to a stop once the guards ordered her to Halt. “I have a letter to gain enteran-” She had started to say but got cut off as the first guard pointed the spiked pike at her. “You’ll not say another word witch!”
The guard yelled at her. Another guard walked up next to the first and smiled. Not a sweet smile, nor a happy smile. But a smile that preceded twisted enjoyment. “Witch, you dare come to the magicians keep? Your kind knows that is followed by death on the spot.”
“I’m not-” she started to say but again was cut off.
“You’ll not speak…ever again!” He said as he lunged with his pike pointed toward her chest. Time seemed to stop at that moment, with the guard poised to strike. All of the sounds from the surrounding area was suddenly cut off. The wagon wheels bouncing and sliding over the cobble stone road, Merchants arguing with customers, women sweeping and humming merrily, It all stopped. To her everything seemed to stop, except her thoughts were running around like panicked mice. She thought it seemed weird that as she was about to die everything seemed to stop. She was scared that she would never find out why. The only thing she ever wanted to know was why, and then it hit her…they called her a witch because she came with the intent to learn. Then everything else seemed to fall into place. All her life people didn’t like her…not because she was bad, not because of anything conventional, but because she wanted to learn. That was her fatal mistake…she was too outgoing to learn while everyone else detested it. They thought her a witch because she was different, and now she was going to die because of it. Then another thought crossed her mind. “That’s the answer to everything…That fundamentally everything has an opposite. Just as death is the opposite to life. Knowledge is the opposite of unfamiliarity. They are condemning me because I want to know.” Time seemed to be speeding up again. The pike was now only feet from her body. She reached out with her right hand and slid her hand over the cold Gleaming metal until she found the hilt of the blade and pushed. She turned around and cocked her elbow just as time sped up to full speed. Placing her left hand over her fisted right, aimed for the guards face and waited for him to slam into her arm. The impact nearly made her topple over. Her elbow seemed to have been jammed against a rock wall. As the soldier fell to the ground she ran as fast as she could back the way she came. This time no one had followed her or looked at her. The other guard seemed to afraid to chase after a witch who had knocked out his friend with out seeming to hesitate or have fear. Her thoughts were crowded with many other things that happened in her life time. Placing facts in front of her eyes. But none of them seemed to make sense, the truths were all too much at one time.
When she got to her father he was just packing the rest of his belonging into his wagon. “What’s wrong?” he said as she ran into in outstretched arms. “And why’s your Elbow soaking in blood?” he asked bewildered. “Dad, we need to leave. Right now.” she said sobbing into his chest
“Look…this doesn’t make sense. Why would they attack you?” her father asked at their Kitchen table. “I have no idea. They called me a witch…and condemned me to death.” she said for what seemed the one hundredth time. “I really have no idea. Can I just go to bed?” she asked.
“Sure…Sure. Go on.” walking on still wobbly legs she got up and walked to her bedroom and shut her door slowly. Walking over to her desk, and sitting down to her diary. There was no need to light a candle, it was still before twilight outside and light streamed into her west facing room. She wrote the following, last entry in the diary’s page.
I’ve been though a lot in my life…just today I was nearly killed. For no apparent reason other than I wanted to know. But before I was killed time seemed to pause and a million things came into my mind. I learned many things in that few moments of perpetual pause. Ife for instance is fleeting, anything can take it away from you. I’m going to be the opposite of death, Fundamentally alive. I’ll never stop learning. Only from now on it’ll be undercover and not so noticeable. I have a long life ahead of me, maybe over 200 more years. But there is no way to tell unless I live. My life from now on will be my own, no one will control me, or tell me how to live. My life is mine to live and not anyone else’s. Today I’ve learned not only what I’ve been seeking, but much, much more. No one will take this from me, I now know what I’ll do for a living…the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do: Learn.
This book signed by Lifia Tinúviel Ringëril. Half Elf and future Scholar of the crown. To who ever reads this, get one thing out of it above all else. I enjoy life as life nothing else. My life will be lived full as possible and nothing you do will bring me down for I am the bringer of life. In spirit and in blood and bone.
I want to see if you remember some of my other book, it has the main character as one of the main characters in the end of this book, it's sort of a prelude to A Dying Breath.
This work edited by Me, my mom in part, and my friend Sean G.
I hope you guys like it!