You may or may not get the impression I’m getting in over my head with this one. I do, but I’m confident in my ability to tread water as long as people are waving me in to the shore (nice metaphor, there). Anyway, I said when I started these that they may be used as a means for me to formulate ideas and use them as rough outlines for future stories, which I think is what I’m doing here. What I see in my head as I formulate this is a novel. But don’t let that discourage you from voting… your choices will matter and potentially take the story in different directions.

Some of the scientific stuff in this one may be way implausible or totally impossible. I’ll ask you to bear with me and, in the future, if and when I develop this more, I’ll be sure to do more research. Other than that, I’m always interested in constructive criticism, or things you noticed or think would have made the story better.

And as always, if this is your first visit, part 1, part 2, and part 3 should be read before this.

***

You hesitate, then shuffle a bit in your seat. Unsure of what you just heard, you are dumbfounded. “Sorry, did you say… a bomb?”

“Nuclear bomb.” Channing nods but has a smug look.

“Ah,” you start to catch on. “I see. Clever, clever. Testing my unconditional loyalty, huh? Well, I suppose I’ll have to—“

“—no, this is not a test.” He grabs the bag from Beth and opens it. He reaches in, and pulls out a rectangular box about the size of his palm. He gently opens it, and a small tube filled with blue liquid falls out. He handles it carefully. “This is real.”

“Stop playing with him,” Beth says as she checks the progression of her bloody nose. “It’s not a real nuclear bomb,” she tells him.

“The reaction is nuclear, and it’s a bomb,” Channing says. “I never said it would do any damage.”

You nod. “What do you mean?”

“Do you accept the position?”

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Posting schedule finalized: every other day, it is. Unless I am traumatized by a dying kitten or play soccer to the point where I can’t move my arms. Then, it’s whenever I’m healthy enough to make something. 

If you just surfed in, welcome to the party—be sure to read part 1 and part 2 first.

***

There’s something alluring about the strangers waving you in, and behind them the back door on the limo pops open. You have to make up your mind quick, before the other handcuff locks your wrists together.

Am I actually contemplating running from the police? You think. You allow yourself a moment to smile at the absurdity of the situation before taking a leap of faith. In one motion, you push off with your right foot, using your body’s leverage to break away from the officer and scoop up the bag.

The officer shouts at you and yells into his radio, and you feel a swell of panic at the realization that you have just unwittingly become a criminal. Any chance of explaining the misunderstanding and getting an all clear has been wiped away.

The two strangers spring into action, and sprint toward the limo at the opposite side of the street. The man holds the door open as the female dives in, and he waves you in. You leap over the fence and run into the street, paying no attention to the traffic, which is forced to brake and honk.

You dive into the open door and are greeted with a rush of cool air. You hear the door slam behind you and feel the force of the car peeling away before you can turn around, pull yourself into a chair, and look at the strangers.

The man who held the door open for you is seated nearest the door, and across from him sits the woman. You sit on her side, but on the opposite end of the limo. There is another woman sitting beside the man, and someone else directly across from you.

“Greg Channing,” you whisper, upon recognizing the CEO you were supposed to be interviewing with. You look again at the girl next to him.

Read the rest of this entry »

You tell me—is three days between segments too much? My mojo was much better when it was daily, but not everyone visits the site every day. What works best for you?

If you just surfed in, read part 1 here.

***

Before long, a crowd has gathered around Beth. The limo driver has exited his vehicle and is standing behind you. “She was chasing someone,” he says.

You turn your head and look up at him. “Did you see where he went?”

“Down that alley, to the left. I was looking at him, wasn’t paying attention.” He has a panicked look on his face. “Christ, I’m sorry.”

Trusting him, you get to your feet and instinctively put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to go after him. You stay here, okay?” You hastily move to the other side of the limo before taking off in a run down the alley. You shout over your shoulder, “and don’t move her until the ambulance gets here!”

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“Real integrity is doing the right thing, knowing that
nobody’s going to know whether you did it or not.”

The morning sun is rising behind you, but it’s reflection from the top of the glass skyscraper almost outshines it. You’re a block away from the looming building and are weaving your way through the sidewalk traffic like a pro even though this is only your second visit to the big city. Refusing to take the bus has its advantages—not only do you stay on your feet, which you do as much as possible since you’re not on the track team anymore—you also get to know the city a whole lot better.

Rounding a corner, the logo for the Omega Integrity Corporation makes your heart skip a beat. You quickly calm yourself… you wouldn’t be walking into the building for a second job interview if they didn’t think you had what it takes.

You approach the reception desk, which is already buzzing with activity even at 7:30am. A young, blonde female with an office phone pressed against her ear smiles at you as you rest your elbows on the marble surface. You casually take a candy from the dish in front of you, even though you don’t really want it, and pop it in your mouth. A few seconds pass, and the female, who appears to be around your age, hangs up the phone and approaches you.

“May I help you?” She asks.

Read the rest of this entry »

“The Omega Constant” is the name of the next story, and I’ll post it tomorrow morning.

Same drill as last time, for the most part.  There will be a voting module at the end of the post and the choice that gets the most votes by the time voting ends, will win.  If there is a tie, the general consensus in the comments will be the deciding factor.

It will be every three days this time around, too.  Once a day seemed to be too much for people, and so did every other day.  So voting for tomorrow’s post will end Monday evening and the next part will go up Tuesday.

Good luck!

That went well! Everyone seemed to enjoy the story so I’ll definitely be making a new adventure soon. Real soon. Check back later in the week for part one.

Here are the completed parts of each segment:  Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4. I’ve also edited together the entire story and posted a seamless version here.

In the old Choose Your Own Adventure books, one benefit was being able to turn back the page and start over if you chose a path that got you killed. I didn’t really want that option here, because it kind of takes away from the integrity of the story. But at the same time, it’s only natural to wonder “what if…” so I thought it might be fun to see where we might have ended up.

Read the rest of this entry »

Note:  This story has been finished and voting has been closed.  The wrap-up can be found here.

Well, as you know, the results for the last chapter resulted in a tie.  Thanks for the suggestions as to what to do in such a situation.  Ultimately, I’ve decided that the comments will serve as a tie breaker. For example, this time, Dave was the only one who commented, explaining why he is choosing to swim away.  Since all things are equal, I’m going to use the comments to tip the scales.  I think this is how I’ll do it in the future, too, so if you feel passionately one way or another make sure to post a comment with the reasoning behind your vote in case it ends up in a tie.

I was going to hint last time that one of the choices would result in your death, in the spirit of the original books.  So read on to reveal your fate.

****

“Come on, kid!”  The rental agent moves to float on his back, and it is obvious he is seriously wounded.  The water around him has turned a dark, murky orange—a result of the green water mixing with his blood.  He starts to use one arm to backstroke away from you.  “I don’t have much time, I’m seeing shit, let’s move.”

“You see it, too?”  You stammer, trying to keep your chin above water.

“I see us dying out here if we don’t move, and we don’t have time to wait for the sharks to show up for my blood,” he is paddling away now, and you glance backward at the corpse.  At this point you are unsure if the man who came to rescue you even sees it.

The corpse does not look the same anymore, furthering your suspicion that it is actually a hallucination.  You feel lightheaded, as if you’re dreaming.  It now looks less like a corpse and more like a live person.  Color has returned to it’s face, and it’s features are so plain you cannot identify it as male or female.

“Please come,” it says, and actually looks sad.  “I have questions.”

Read the rest of this entry »

Note:  This story has been finished and voting has been closed.  The wrap-up can be found here.

I’m going to make this an every-other day thing from now on so people have more time to read, and then comment or vote. Voting on this particular one will last until Sunday morning at 11, at which point the voting module just won’t accept your vote (kan still commentz tho lolz).  Expect the next part to post Sunday evening, or early Monday.

Also, this marks the first time since the fourth grade where I’ve illustrated one of my stories.  I’d like to keep doing it, so don’t laugh at my drawing.

(Just surfed in?  Read the last part here, including a link to the beginning.)

****

The rental agent speeds away so fast you have to struggle to keep up.  The last thing you want to do is fall behind and make him have to turn around again.  He’d probably yell at you some more—why did he have to do that?—and you have no idea whether or not any real damage was done to the jet ski and how much it might cost, and are already dreading telling your parents about the bill they might have to pay—but more than that, you absolutely cannot shake the image of what you just saw in the water.

You inhale sharply and steady your eyes until they focus on the rental agent.  Your hands grip the steering handles and you punch the gas to catch up.  You get the peculiar feeling that something is behind you, so before you’re even up to full speed you turn your head around to check.

Nothing is there.  Just the water spraying, the wake the ski is leaving behind you, and the warm constant sun.  You take a moment to sigh—you’ve never had a panic attack before, but maybe that’s what that was.  You’re glad it’s over.  The dead face you saw was probably no more than a dead fish.  You turn back around to face forward.

You flinch, and throw your hands up.

Before you know it, you are under water.  Shit, shit, shit! you think.  Your eyes burn and you feel pressure on your chest as you struggle to get your bearings.  You get your head above water and inhale a few times.  The rental agent must have turned around or slowed down to allow you to catch up, and you weren’t looking and collided with him.  You remember him screaming and putting his hands up in the air in a futile attempt to get you to stop.

As you tread water, you see that your jet ski continued to move after you flew off, and is so far in the distance it looks as small as a safety buoy.

You are mad at him—you were right behind him, he didn’t have to stop!—but more mad at yourself.  All you want to do is break down in frustration, have someone rescue you, and then go lay on the beach.

His jet ski is bobbing in the water in front of you, no more than twenty feet away.  Your arms are already tired from treading water, but you muster the strength to swim over to it.  Just as you reach for it, he leaps from the water on the other side and straddles it, dripping wet and covered in seaweed.

He wipes his face, and looks down at you.  The amount of anger on his face is terrifying, and he looks at you with his teeth clenched together so hard, you can see his jaw muscles bulge from the side of his face.  He seems to actually growl at you: “Get.  On.”

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Note:  This story has been finished and voting has been closed.  The wrap-up can be found here.

The results are in, and I’m surprised!  But I suppose that’s good… if I wasn’t surprised I’d get bored and wouldn’t be forced to think of things that I wouldn’t normally.  Anyway, Kiernan, dim the lights, let’s do the results live.

We had 2 votes for jumping in and pulling out the seaweed, and 4 votes for waiting for the current to take you out further on faith the rental agent really will come and get you.

I realize now I need a time limit on voting, else I finish the next part with one result in my head and come to post it only to see 20 people commented while I was writing in favor of the other option.  So, the poll at the bottom of this one will stay open until 11am EST tomorrow.

If you just surfed in, read part one here.  Now, let’s see what happens…

*******

“Break, break, break!  Oh thy cold gray stones, O sea!  And I would that my tongue could utter the thoughts that arise in me.”   -Alfred Lord Tennyson

You sit back down on the jet ski and for good measure give the gas another turn.  There is more grumbling underneath you, and then the engine dies completely.  The seaweed has clogged the system so bad it will not even start again.  You briefly chastise yourself for driving out so far.

You inhale deeply and eye the shoreline, which to your surprise is so far away it is behind a slight haze.  Realizing this, you are flooded with adrenaline as you come to terms with the fact that you might be in serious trouble if you don’t do something quick.

You steady yourself against the bobbing water as you swing your right leg over the steering column.  You sit sideways, looking down at the murky green water.  You have no idea how deep it is, and the slimy green and brown strands of seaweed appear to vanish in fog under only an inch of water.  You imagine jumping in and being totally blind, frantically feeling around the underside of the ski as you try to avoid whatever life was swarming up from the depth beneath you. Read the rest of this entry »

Note:  This story has been finished and voting has been closed.  The wrap-up can be found here.

What is this?  Click here.

You came to Florida to be alone and relax, not spend time with your family.  So when your mom suggested you spend a day at the beach together, you were careful to pack your iPod and even that book you had been carrying around for a year—the one with the bookmark still between pages two and three.

When you got to the beach, though, and your mom and dad opened the trunk to get the cooler while your twig-thin little brother ran toward the sand, you purposefully left the book on the seat upon eyeing a possible means of escape… there was a kiosk a little down the shore that was renting jet skis.

You tried to contain a smile after you convinced your dad put a twenty dollar bill in your hand and sign the release.  Minutes later, you were shirtless and cruising at a steady 35 miles an hour toward Cuba.

Not that you’d actually go that far.  The blinking red light on the dashboard was enough to get you to at least slow down.  The rental agent said if it started to blink red, you had better turn around, otherwise if you kept going it would turn solid red and they’d send the coast guard after you.  You assumed he was joking—the coast guard likely had plenty of other things to do—and he’d probably just came after you himself.

Regardless, you were supposed to remain visible to the dock at all times, so you inhaled the fresh air and started to ease off the gas.  You held your head tilted skyward, a bit put off at how murky the ocean was.  You were expecting clear blue water, not pea green with dead seaweed everywhere.  You thought the farther you went out, the clearer it’d get.

Coming to a stop, you turned around to see how far out you actually went.  The dock looked so small, and in fact you weren’t even sure you were looking at the dock at all since everything seemed to blend together on the shore.  If you squinted and concentrated, you were pretty sure you could still see the huge yellow umbrella that covered the picnic area where the rest of your family was.

You swung the jet ski around, resigned to the fact that this was as far as you were going to go.  You slowly punched the gas, but instead of the jet ski responding rapidly as it had been, it made a slowly gurgling noise and would not budge.

You were reminded suddenly of something else the rental agent had said, “be careful not to go through the seaweed, it might get caught in the water intake underneath.”  Your heart rate quickened as you realized, “you’d have to get off and pull it out from underneath.”

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Back when I was in grade school I loved the choose your own adventure books.  I only read a couple, but they stuck with me.  I remember one where I was kidnapped, and another where I died in a watery plane crash.

Anyway, I’ve been itching to write something recently but of course always have a reason not to.  I thought it would be fun to try to write my own ‘choose your own adventure.’  It’ll be different, in that you can’t go back if you make a wrong turn, but at the very least it will get me to put words on a page, and, at the very best, may end up turning into an outline for a real story.

In a minute I will post the first installment.  At the end will be your choices.  Nothing complex… if more people choose option A over option B, it will win.

I’m well aware I may get 0 Comments on each installment, so if that’s the case this will either fizz out quickly or I’ll just pick my own way.  And if none of the choices work for you, suggest something else.  If I like it enough I’ll incorporate it somehow.

I will try my best to publish every day, but I can’t promise anything.  I do promise to at least finish the next part if the previous gets a comment.

Good luck, I hope you don’t get kidnapped and die a watery death.