Unfortunately, the therapeutic value of shooting the crap out of Cerberus has a short shelf life the kind of STRESS that can only be described in capitol letters. Yet again I put aside some time for Res 2, and what happens? Oh yes, I have to move house. My landlord of 9 years has decided to sell up. I'm no stranger to moving house, but this is the first time I've had to single handily pack 2 kinds and a 3 bed house. Its not even the packing of about a million boxes to set out for a new place filled with untold danger and adventure. No, its all the other stuff that has to be arranged, where I have to deal with stupid people who didn't realise that not turning up to do a job, thus leaving me in shit, means you don't get paid for the job no matter how much they rant about it.
There are other first world problems dragging me down, mostly money. I started claiming for Job Seekers Allowance just over 13 weeks ago and I'm clearly no where near as intelligent as I thought I was, because no amount of proof that I am looking for a job (I have been for well over a year so had it down to a fine art, until I asked for help from those paid to help me, and now spend more time doing their paperwork that job seeking) is good enough and I keep being sanctioned, appealing, winning the appeal, only to be sanctioned again. The house move has cost me everything I had aside for a rainy day, and I've just been informed I can't appeal my latest sanction without first going to a meeting. Id normally play along and go, only the one date they gave me is the one day I can't make due to 3 other appointments pertaining to the move.
So, I'm kinda done, beyond stressed. Id just go right ahead and have a nervous breakdown right on top of a tall building with a rifle, only I'm too damn busy trying to find my way out of my own living room on account of the cardboard box maze that has sprung up.
I'm still writing because, apparently, I can't take a break. Its just not very good or very focused writing. Which is the posh way of saying 'its shit'. Still, that was bound to happen and if I don't starve to death, thanks to the 'welfare' fascists, then eventually my focus will come back.
I don't often talk about my boring personal stuff, but I have just discovered that venting in ones blog is actually kinda therapeutic. As is thinking of you guys often, which I do, and I miss. I'm not very chatty when I'm in a perpetual state of pissed-offness, but that state appears to be permanent right now, so I'm going to hang out here as much as I can and be a curmudgeon, a really STRESSED curmudgeon.
No sympathy is required, a little banter and laughter would be nice. Or maybe money, money would be good, or a job, or a gun... "Can I get that gun now?"
I want to run a competition, just to have something fun to do with like minded folks, but I'm a little reluctant to kick something off whilst in the middle of (hell) moving house. Maybe I'll save it as an after-move celebration. Meh, I don't know, I can't decide which pair of socks to wear these days, and I only have 6 pairs to choose from on account that all the others are packed away... Aaand I'm talking about socks. This is what its come to.
I move on September 2nd. Hopefully I'll have a chance to write again before then, if not, I really look forward to seeing you on the other side. Please bring cheesecake.
My original stories.
Absolute Power."Are you aware, Anin?"
"Do you recognise my voice?"
"Yes. You are Practitioner..."
"That's right. And why can't you..."
"I know. It's ok, I'm not looking for you, but your voice is my guide."
"Good, Anin. Very good. Where are you? Describe your surroundings, please."
"Ok. I'm... Oh! I'm here in the park, again... Practitioner?"
"Sorry, Anin. I'm here. You recognise your surroundings?"
"Yes. I've been here before... Haven't I?"
"What do you see, Anin?"
"Er, there are... the tall things either side of me..."
"They're trees, Anin."
"Yes! Trees. And seats made out of the same... similar material as the trees. It's difficult to see clearly, as if through a haze or mist..."
"It is fog, Anin. What are you feeling?"
"Chilly... Its... winter. Damn! This is the same place I keep coming back to, isn't it?"
"You have... visited this place before, yes."
"Focus, please, Anin. We have a job to do."
"Sorry. Wait! There's something... moving, up ahead."
"Oh, fuck! Look at that one. She looks like the bride of Frankenstein!" Tom chuckled.
"More like the bride of Chucky." Craig added as he watched the Zed ambling down the road below. It slowly walked past the apartment building they were holed up in, a piece of its torn wedding dress trailed along behind it like a white flag on a piece of string. It was just one of hundreds of dead bodies that were currently shambling along the city streets these days.
"What's she got in her hand there? She holding something?"
Craig put his binoculars down on the windowsill and rubbed his eyes. "Probably her bouquet. Guess she never got chance to throw it, poor bitch." He was about to suggest they figure out their next move, when Tom muttered, "What the fuck..?"
Mass Effect shorts.
Mass Effect novel. Resolution.
Synopsis and all 13 chapters @
Resolution: Alternative ending short.