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A Day in the Life [PG]

radio414

By radio414
in Creative Writing

Should I continue the story?  

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  1. 1. Should I continue the story?

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radio414 Newbie

radio414

Posted
Posted

I won't really post unless I get some positive support to keepthe story going.

Ok, here goes:

[spoiler=Prolougue]

One day. A normal day in the world that many call Earth. This planet is not very unusual, but in some ways, there are cosmological effects taking place on Earth. Why? Because of the significance of this lone life-bearing planet. There is nothing more special than a comepletely normal planet to screw around with.

 

But back to the plot. Today, like every other day on planet Earth, is normal. The only thing special about it is that it is March 31. The last day of March. Some call it a "lamb day" to follow that old saying about March and ageessive vs passive animals. 

 

This March 31, though, is, in a way, special cosmologically as well. There is a fluxuation in the space-time, supposedly. Being the present era, you can't be sure. Anyways, Yesterday was also March 31. And the day before that. And before that. The world is stuck in a loop.

 

 

And nobody knows it.

 

 

[spoiler=Day 1]

Beverly Shifter was a psycologist. For those who don't know what a psycologist is, a psycologist is a doctor who sits in a chair and draw on their little notepads while their patient takes a little nap probably on this big green sofa. Presumably, they're supposed to talk about their lives, but nobody actually does this. Actual psychologists don't care, because they can charge a pretty decent fee for taking a nap in that chair.

Yes, Beverly Shifter was definitely a psychologist.

 

Of average height, she herself could probably take a nap on those green couches during her lunch break. She had dirty blonde hair, and was Caucasian. The only thing actually special about her was her piercing green eyes. Her patients never said anything, but they seemed to have a hypnotic effect if one looked at them too long.

 

Today, being a Saturday, meant that Beverly was out early. After a long day of treating crazy people, she was very glad for this liberty. There was nothing more boring than watching crazy people describe their life. Most of the time, it wasn't even their life, just random things that had nothing to do with her job.

 

As she stepped out from the darkness of her office and into the bright light that usually shines through the clouds, she had only one thing on her mind. Home. At her house, she felt free from anything that may be thrown her way.

 

Unfortunately, home meant that she wasn't paying attention to her safety and she accidentally walked out into one of those very busy New York City streets and was run over almost immediately by a speeding car.

 

The next car to speed towards Beverly was an ambulance. This vehicle, though, stopped. The medical personell got out and put her on a stretcher, which they carried to the back of the truck. Getting in the driver and passenger seats, the two doctors sped to the nearest hospital.

 

Beverly, while comatose, somehow sensed everything going around her. In her mind, she began to worry. She had no health insurance. She had no family. If she was disabled for life, there would be no other option but to hire someone to take care of her.

 

Regaining conciousness, Beverly immediately found herself attached to what looked like hundreds of wires. The doctors, seeing that she was now concious, ran some physicals.

"You're a tough woman." one doctor commented, "Most people would still be critical. But you seem to be ready to be up and about." Beverly did feel up and about. She felt fine enough to stand up, which she did, but was immediately rushed back down by surrounding nurses with the excuse that she needed more rest. Beverly did convince them to let her be able to look out the window. When she did, her eyes were immediately drawn to a fight breaking out. The brawl had spilled out of the nearby bar, and now was flooding the streets.

 

After supposedly much needed rest, Beverly went home with a strange sense of Deja vu. Ignoring it, she entered her apartment, and almost went strait to bed. Then, she remembered. She needed to take her pill. Going to the bathroom, she took a glass of water in one hand, and her pill in the other. Placing both water and pill in her mouth, she swallowed, and set down her glass precariously hanging over the edge of the bathroom counter. Too precariously. Only two seconds after she put the cup down did it plummet to the ground, shattering on impact. The noise drew Beverly's attention, but she was too tired, and barely made it to her bed before collapsing into her second state of unconciousness of the day.

 

 

[spoiler=Day 2]

Beverly Shifter was a psycologist. For those who don't know what a psycologist is, a psycologist is a doctor who sits in a chair and draw on their little notepads while their patient takes a little nap probably on this big green sofa. Presumably, they're supposed to talk about their lives, but nobody actually does this. Actual psychologists don't care, because they can charge a pretty decent fee for taking a nap in that chair.

Yes, Beverly Shifter was definitely a psychologist.

 

Of average height, she herself could probably take a nap on those green couches during her lunch break. She had dirty blonde hair, and was Caucasian. The only thing actually special about her was her piercing green eyes. Her patients never said anything, but they seemed to have a hypnotic effect if one looked at them too long.

 

Today, being a Saturday, meant that Beverly was out early. After a long day of treating crazy people, she was very glad for this liberty. There was nothing more boring than watching crazy people describe their life. Most of the time, it wasn't even their life, just random things that had nothing to do with her job.

 

As she stepped out from the darkness of her office and into the bright light that usually shines through the clouds, she had only one thing on her mind. Home. At her house, she felt free from anything that may be thrown her way.

 

Unfortunately, home meant that she wasn't paying attention to her safety and she accidentally walked out into one of those very busy New York City streets and was run over almost immediately by a speeding car.

 

The next car to speed towards Beverly was an ambulance. This vehicle, though, stopped. The medical personell got out and put her on a stretcher, which they carried to the back of the truck. Getting in the driver and passenger seats, the two doctors sped to the nearest hospital.

 

Beverly, while comatose, somehow sensed everything going around her. In her mind, she began to worry. She had no health insurance. She had no family. If she was disabled for life, there would be no other option but to hire someone to take care of her.

 

Regaining conciousness, Beverly immediately found herself attached to what looked like hundreds of wires. The doctors, seeing that she was now concious, ran some physicals.

"You're a tough woman." one doctor commented, "Most people would still be critical. But you seem to be ready to be up and about." Beverly did feel up and about. She felt fine enough to stand up, which she did, but was immediately rushed back down by surrounding nurses with the excuse that she needed more rest. Beverly did convince them to let her be able to look out the window. When she did, her eyes were immediately drawn to a fight breaking out. The brawl had spilled out of the nearby bar, and now was flooding the streets.

 

After supposedly much needed rest, Beverly went home with a strange sense of Deja vu. Ignoring it, she entered her apartment, and almost went strait to bed. Then, she remembered. She needed to take her pill. Going to the bathroom, she took a glass of water in one hand, and her pill in the other. Placing both water and pill in her mouth, she swallowed, and set down her glass precariously hanging over the edge of the bathroom counter. Too precariously. Only two seconds after she put the cup down did it plummet to the ground, shattering on impact. The noise drew Beverly's attention, but she was too tired, and barely made it to her bed before collapsing into her second state of unconciousness of the day.

[spoiler=Note!]

Yes, this is the same text as Day 1. Don't pester me, I know what I am doing.

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Day 3]

Beverly avoke and checked the time. It was precisely 11:59 PM. She couldn't sleep. She had an overwhelming sense of Deja vu, a sense she couldn't shake off. Everything she had done that day, it felt like a lie. Something said over and over to try and make it the truth.

 

Beverly turned her attention back to her clock. She wondered why time always moved so slowly if one watched a digital clock tick. Sixty seconds never seemed like sixty seconds on a digital clock. It always seemed like 120, or even 180 seconds off the clock for a minute to pass by. She continued to gaze at the clock, until it hit midnight. By then, she was out cold.

 

The time was 6:00 AM when Beverly awoke. Right on time for a Saturday workday. She needed this workday, because of the money. She was slightly behind on rent, and this possible worktime could pay for at least that overdue rent, if not some food as well.

 

Work, no matter what the pay, was annoying. No matter what happened, there was always some slob who continued to go on and on and on and on and on and on etc. Today was no exception. A young boy named Joseph was lying on the trademark green couch, and Beverly thought that he would just take a nap. She was undoubtably wrong.

 

"In the beginning, I was born." Joseph began, "I don't know what happened before I was born, like, in the womb and stuff, but when I was born, I immediately started crying! Like I hated the world! I was just in the world for maybe ten seconds at best, and I just hated it apparently. Talk about a first impression! That's brings me to why I'm here, actually, I just realize, sometimes, that I still do hate the world, and I thought that with your help, I could change that. What do you think?" Joshua looked up and saw Beverly acting like she was writing furiously. In reality, she was merely making a cool design on that lone piece of paper.

Joshua laid back down on the couch, " Maybe if I tell you the rest of my life story, you'll agree with me..."

 

What the hell. This kid was what, seven? It made no sense to recount your life story. If you can't make a memoir about it, it shouldn't be told. Beverly slumped in her chair.

 

Ignoring Joshua and his reminiscence, Beverly chanced a look at the clock. It was 1:00 PM. Go time. She was about to dismiss Josha's tale with a therapist's cell phone number, but something held her back. She felt a sense of foreboding, not Deja Vu, but a feeling like something bad would happen if she left. She tried to fight it, being a nonbeliever in the sixth sense, but it was to strong, and Beverly remained in her seat.

 

A little later, maybe about two minutes later, Beverly heard a noise that distracted her from her boredom. It was like a car, without a muffler. But not only that, it sounded like it was going at least eighty miles an hour. Beverly was pretty certain of NY traffic laws, and 80 mph was only legal on the highway, and if the police were on an off-day. They seldom were.

 

There was another noise after the car. It was a siren, but not a police siren. An ambulance siren most likely. But what was an ambulance doing following a speeder? Deciding to forget these questions, Beverly grudgingly turned her attention to Joshua.

 

"... And so that's my life story. What's wrong with me?" Finally, Joshua had finished his tale, and Beverly had never given a prognosis faster. Telling him he was a pessimist, and giving his parents a therapist's number as well as telling them that fact, she left the door at about the same time. She needed to go home.

 

The only downside of going home was the shortwlest path. Beverly was always paranoid about alleys, afraid of some gang waiting to mug her. The alternative routes weren't much better. They all went by pubs. It was a weekend. A fight was just begging to start.

 

Choosing the risk of having her skull shattered by a fist over being killed, Beverly took the bar route. Of course a fight had just broken out, and Beverly made the stupid mistake of trying to get through it. A sound of breaking glass was heard by everyone in the fight save Beverly. She was already unconcious by the time she hit the ground.

 

   Beverly, while comatose, somehow sensed everything going around her. In her mind, she began to worry. She had no health insurance. She had no family. If she was mentally retarded for life, there would be no other option but to hire someone to take care of her. How she would do that, she didn't know, and that made her worry even more.

 

Regaining conciousness, Beverly immediately found herself attached to what looked like hundreds of wires. The doctors, seeing that she was now concious, ran some physicals.

"You're a tough woman." one doctor commented, "Most people would still be critical. But you seem to be ready to be up and about." Beverly did feel up and about. She felt fine enough to stand up, which she did, but was immediately rushed back down by surrounding nurses with the excuse that she needed more rest. Beverly did convince them to let her be able to look out the window. When she did, her eyes were immediately drawn to a fight breaking out. The brawl had spilled out of the nearby bar, and now was flooding the streets.

 

After supposedly much needed rest, Beverly went home with a strange sense of Deja vu. Ignoring it, she entered her apartment, and almost went strait to bed. Then, she remembered. She needed to take her pill. Going to the bathroom, she took a glass of water in one hand, and her pill in the other. Placing both water and pill in her mouth, she swallowed, and set down her glass precariously hanging over the edge of the bathroom counter. Too precariously. Only two seconds after she put the cup down did it plummet to the ground, shattering on impact. The noise drew Beverly's attention, but she was too tired, and barely made it to her bed before collapsing into her second state of unconciousness of the day.

[spoiler=Note!]

Yes, there are some replications in this text from days 1 and 2. Again don't pester me. I know what's going on.

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Day 4]

10:00 PM. March 31. A Normal Saturday. A normal workday for Beverly Shift, psychologist. The company she worked for needed her expertise, she needed the money to pay the rent. Mostly it was a fair trade. 

 

Today, though, it probably wasn't. To recap the days events, a kid named Joshua had assaulted her mentally with his life story, she got assaulted physically going home just for taking the long way past a bar, woke up in a hospoital, got shoved around a lot by doctors, eventually got home, destroyed a glass that was partially filled with water, and stumbled into bed.

 

There was no way tomorrow could be any worse.

 

Beverly awoke at 6:00 AM. The date was March 31, a Saturday. Rushing out the door, she stepped on some glass, probably from a cup of some sort. Taking no notice, she continued to her work with an odd feeling of dread.

 

After sitting through Joshua's long tale, and dismissing it as pessimism, she returned home by taking the alleyway, despite her paranoia. At her home, she cleaned up the glass she had stepped on, after which she immediately took to the couch and slept. Waking up after what she felt was much needed rest, she made dinner, and took her pill. Placing the cup a safe disance away from the edge of the counter, the next step was to get ready for bed.

 

Fully ready, Beverly made her way towards her bed. This led her through the kitchen, where her robe accidentally knocked a glass onto the floor, shattering it in the instant it touched the floor. Ignoring it, and suddenly feeling very tired, Beverly collapsed on her bed and went to sleep.       

 

 

[spoiler=Day 5]

Beverly awoke on Saturday, March 31 feeling sick. Not a normal sick, like influenza, but a more unnatural sickness. It felt like anything she did would be something that was already done. Like Deja vu, but before she had done anything to make her feel in such a way.

 

With every step bringing on a new wave of this illness, Beverly made a movement towards the phone. Calling the office where she worked, she phoned in a sick day. Following the call, Beverly returned to her bed and collapsed.

 

By the time she awoke, Beverly's mysterious illness had passed. Looking outside her window, she saw a  red car zooming by, at a speed of at least 65 mph. Knowing the general rules of city speed limits, she knew that even a car as shiny and as colorful and as radiant, and as...

 

"Snap out of it!" Beverly told herself. She was thinking too much about that car. That lovely red sportscar that she couldn't afford. Just worth so much money in so many ways. The catalytic converter, for instance. The elements in there included valuble substances such as Platinum. She could use the money from that alone to get another sports car. And so on.

 

Beverly felt like she needed that car. Getting dressed, and feeling a little rejuvenated after her nap, she got out and into her own car. Actually, to call it a car would be an exaggeration. It did run like a car, she could drive it as if it were a car, but in reality, it would be considered a clunker. A car, technically, but not really.

 

Driving at a legal 35 mph like a normal citizen, Beverly combed the streets for parking lots both major and minor alike. That car had to be in the city. It just had to.

 

Finally. At the edge of downtown, it was there. The Car. It wasn't hard to hijack, really. The method was just like Hollywood movies. Simply connect the two ignition wires, and you're off. Beverly didn't want to go on a joyride, however. She wanted to be home.

 

Arriving in her "borrowed" car, Beverly felt queer again, and lay down on her couch for a quick nap. The time was 3:00 PM.

 

Only hunger awoke Beverly at 11:59 PM. She sighed. Somehow, she had overshot her the time she expected to wake up. There was no point doing anything about it now, and these were her final thoughts before drifting into her third unconciousness of this long day.

 

 

[spoiler=Day 6]

6:00 AM. The alarm blared. The mass under the covers sluggishly extended an arm to stop the beeping. She was awake enough. As the lump under the bedsheetes made it's way out of said bedsheets, it gradually gained a human form. Then, Beverly Shifter emerged from the masses of bedsheets spread upon her. She was so cold all of a sudden, and felt ill. Like Deja vu, but not. She wanted to call in sick, but decided that she could stand it.

 

Beverly could stand it. She made it to work. Unfortunately, the illness came back, with a vengance. She nearly threw up. Right before she did, though, her emotions changed. Boredom changed to anger. Anger turned to rage. And Beverly's rage was fueled by her "illness." Sadly for Joshua, that rage was directed towards him, and thus, the subject of what could be described as blind rage.

 

Beverly was in full berserk mode now. She hit, she kicked, she bit, and performed any maneuver that she could think of that could be used for assault. Poor poor Joshua. By the time Beverly realized what she was doing and stopped, he was near death. Beverly stared in horror at what she had done, and dashed outside the office and into the busy streets of New York, only to get hit by a red car two seconds later. She didn't feel it, she was already out.

 

 Beverly, while comatose, somehow sensed everything going around her. In her mind, she began to worry. She had no health insurance. She had no family. If she was disabled for life, there would be no other option but to hire someone to take care of her.

 

She was disabled, yes, but not untaken care of. Police were waiting to arrest her as she awoke in a hospital. After recovering, she was officially arrested, and taken to jail. In her cell, Beverly lay in her small bed, and began to fall asleep.

 

 

[spoiler=Day 7]

During her slumber in the prison, Beverly felt an odd change. Her hard jailbed changed into more like her own bed. Snapping out of her stupor, her bed lay out in front of her with her inside the sheets. She felt like she was going mad, and so, went back to sleep to try and sleep it off.

 

6:00 AM. The alarm rang put right on time. A hand extended, and smashed the clock's "Alarm Off" button. There would be no working with this employee still sick

 

12:00 PM. Waking up, Beverly still felt sick. And depressed. Sick and depressed, not a good combination. She felt thirsty, too. Sick, depressed, and thirsty, not at all good. At least one could be cured with a glass of water.

 

Making her way to the cups, Beverly had to maneuver around some broken glass, presumably from the previous night. At the sink, she filled up her cup,  and began to drink.

 

Finished with her cup, Beverly immediately felt a wave of nausea sweep over her, and she accidentally placed the glass hanging over the edge. It shattered after a very short fall to the floor.

 

Stumbling to her bed, Beverly made it into her covers, and immediately fell asleep. She didn't know it, but she would sleep the rest of the day.

 

 

[spoiler=Day 8]

There was a definite change in the bedsheets this time. Somehow, her sleep currently under the covers passed to over the covers. She didn't believe in magic, so this was inexplicable to her.

 

After faking a cold to be able to call in sick, Beverly continuously tried to fall asleep and force the blankets up again. It failed. This contiued for a while, until lunch, when she stepped on some broken glass in the kitchen.

 

That's when she realized This was going to be today's glass breaking incident. Today was the exact same day as yesterday. This epiphany brought worries, though. How long did she do the same thing without realizing it? Did others know of this? What should she do? To break these worries, she ate lunch and cleaned the broken glass.

 

During the cleaning of glass, there was a noise. A loud noise. Like a car. However, the car noise sounded like the car was speeding. Heavily. This was a 35 mph zone, and the car was going what, 80? It didn't make sense. Then again neither did the day repeating theory.

 

With about 7 hours left, Beverly turned on the TV to the Sci-Fi channel. Beverly hated the Sci-Fi channel, and so, slammed her thumb on the change channel button.

The remote broke.

 

At least, it was a show that she could somewhat tolerate. Star Trek. It was definitely science fiction, but more emphasis on science. Sure, it was futuristic, but Beverly could understand it.

 

The episode was one she had never seen. Fortunately, it was just beginning. It looked interesting, too. It was called Cause And Effect. The entire premise was that a space/time anomaly sent the crew back about 12 hours in time after a certain event happened. By going through the loop supposedly 28 times, the crew figures out how to break the loop. They also found a ship trapped for 86 years during this escape from the anomaly. Ironic, really, the entire plot.

 

There was a marathon of Star Trek, and Beverly had nothing else to do but watch it. She was "sick" after all. They were all kind of interesting, but none of them as much as the first one. Turning the TV off manually at 8:00 PM, she went to the kitchen to tale her pill, and, her mind still preoccupied with the days events, dropped the cup on the floor. Ignoring the mess, crawled into her bed and slept.

 

 

[spoiler=Day 9]

Awaken.

Eat.

Once again realize that the day is repeating.

Beverly could not remember what she did "yesterday," but she figured it wasn't important. Nothing ever happened to her that was even remotely important.

 

Still, Beverly went to her office. Not because she was going to work, but because she needed an appointment.

"I feel an extrordinary sense of Deja Vu at certain points during the day." Beverly knew that the psycologist wasn't listening, but she needed to talk it out.

 

"It seems that I think the day is repeating over and over."

That was all the quack needed to hear. Even when not paying attention, the psycologist heard that remark. It was to insane to be missed. She immediately called the hospital. Beverly was clearly insane.

 

When Beverly got outside, she was immediately put in a straitjacket, and immediately into a car. No one this crazy should be able to roam free. There was one complication. A speeding red car drove by, colliding with the car.

 

   Beverly, while comatose, somehow sensed everything going around her. In her mind, she began to worry. She had no health insurance. She had no family. If she was mentally retarded for life, there would be no other option but to hire someone to take care of her. How she would do that, she didn't know, and that made her worry even more.

 

Regaining conciousness, Beverly immediately found herself attached to what looked like hundreds of wires. The doctors, seeing that she was now concious, ran some physicals.

"You're a tough woman." one doctor commented, "Most people would still be critical. But you seem to be ready to be up and about." Beverly did feel up and about. She felt fine enough to stand up, which she did, but was immediately rushed back down by surrounding nurses with the excuse that she needed more rest. Beverly did convince them to let her be able to look out the window. When she did, her eyes were immediately drawn to a fight breaking out. The brawl had spilled out of the nearby bar, and now was flooding the streets.

 

After supposedly much needed rest, Beverly entered her apartment, and almost went strait to bed. Then, she remembered. She needed to take her pill. Going to the bathroom, she took a glass of water in one hand, and her pill in the other. Placing both water and pill in her mouth, she swallowed, and set down her glass precariously hanging over the edge of the bathroom counter. Too precariously. Almost immediately after she put the cup down did it plummet to the ground, shattering on impact. The noise drew Beverly's attention, but she was too tired, and barely made it to her bed before collapsing into her second state of unconciousness of the day.

 

 

[spoiler=Day 10]

Today, Beverly resolved to keep her secret knowledge to herself. Who would believe her? Nobody. No one person would believe that. She would be put in an insane asylum. With padded walls.

No. Beverly would go to work. And she would comepletely ignore the Deja vu that she knew was not Deja vu.

At work, Beverly got bored very early into the day and decided to do something very difficult to pass the time.

She would actually listen to her patients' problems.

 

This resolution came right at the end of a patient's appointment, and Beverly had an odd feeling about this next patient.

It was Jeffery.

 

"I have a problem. I think. Somehow, I think it's deja vu. I'm not sure."

Beverly was glad that she couldn't remember "yesterday." It must have been horrible pretending to listen to him day after day. She did try, but it wasn't enough effort.

"ZzZzZzZz..."

 

Beverly awoke to find that Jeffery was staring at her. Beverly turned to stare at the clock. 1:10 PM. Crap.

Quickly "diagnosing" Jeffery with paranoia, Beverly ran outside into the open air. She ran into an alleyway, not caring that it was as dark and creepy as dark and creepy could get. Even so, Beverly decided to dash through it. If she got through fast enough, she might live.

 

She lived.

 

Seconds later, Beverly thought that she heard the sound barrier catching up. It wasn't the sound barrier, though.

She would later learn that it was her lung. By running so fast, and breathing so hard, her lung burst.

Beverly awoke in a hospital. She apparently was about to undergo emergency surgery. A mask was placed over her face and Beverly was out in little to no time at all. Before she went comepletely under, Beverly had a chance to look at the clock. 5:00 PM. She could possibly make it to midnight without  the recuperating process if the surgery was delayed. Beverly would need to be extremely lucky.

 

She was.

 

 

Please give me some costructive criticism. This is my first real fanfic.

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Dissonance Newbie

Dissonance

Posted
Posted

Your writing style is actually alright. The whole "normal planet" thing...I see what you're trying to do with it, but when I read it, I thought "well that's stupid. Of course Earth isn't normal. It's the only known planet to support sentient life"...which you kind of explain 3 lines later.

 

If you're going to use phrases like "back to the plot", you need to develop a more intimate writing style. The way the rest of it is set up, such intimacy from the narrator is jarring and out of place here.

 

I don't understand the "lamb" thing at all.

 

The plot actually looks interesting.

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radio414 Newbie

radio414

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Posted

1. Digital clocks don't have second hands.

2. You say she's dead after the glass shatters' date=' which breaks the continuity.

 

But I like the flow, and how this is building up.

[/quote']

 

1) Where does it talk about second hands? I see talking about the lack of one, but no digital clock second hands anywhere I can see.

2) Just realized that. Fixed, and +rep for you.

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