This is the second story and asset list, my week 2 Creative Writing class in college. If you read the first please skip the explanation of the assignment here below in purple:
In Creative Writing class, there was a class discussion that called for everyone to come up with the name of a character, and a short descriptive asset list of ten items. After that everyone in class had to pick two their students asset list (and their character), to write a short story based off it. Basically using the asset list to get inspiration from to come up with something all new! I thought this assignment was a lot of fun so I've posted the two asset list and stories I wrote from them below:
Here's the second asset list by Christopher Allende:
"The Character I will be working with is a new character that i will be exploring. His name is Johnathan Davis (this is still pending, but I wanted something that sounded common and unremarkable), and he is an individual with some scrupulous morals and a deranged sense of nobility. The object of my choosing is a storage crate.
*The Crate is hidden in a basement that was carved out under his garage, and is clean and devoid of markings (even the simple scuffs of wear and tear are nowhere to be seen).*It is a clear crate and is made of some manner of plastic that is resilient to acid burns.*The lid seals with two folding clasps on either end and is not locked.*Inside the crate there is a liner that is laid in and is of a black material that resembles oiled canvas.*Upon pulling back the canvas there are a set of tools and items each pocketed neatly in the various pockets sewn into this canvas liner.*All the metallic tools are a high polished stainless steel devoid of dents and imperfections of any kind.*The First section of pockets hold items: Rope (black nylon chord), plastic sheeting (50 yards neatly packed, and non-reusable), Surgical Tubing (3 yards, coiled and uncut).*The second set of pouches, under the first fold, hold a series of different style implements: Surgical #10 blade scalpels, Bone saws, Rib spreaders, and an assortment of picks and needles.*In the same section, but separated by a divider, are various cooking knifes in the same stainless steel variety: 11" Chefs knife, 5 Pairing knives, 8" Santoku knife, 6" Cleaver, 9" Fillet knife, and a wet stone kit for fine honing.*Directly underneath the fold holding the implements are 4 full length white towels, and a set of clear plastic coveralls, a box of nitril blue gloves (50 hypo allergenic gloves), and 3 sets of clear safety goggles." (Allende)
Here's my story based on the above list:
"Johnathan Davis, a cool collected man. He always knew exactly what he wanted from life, and in turn he always got it. Just ask anyone, anyone that was close to him. If you can find anyone that is, Johnanthan kept his privet life pretty well privet, and only his colleges and business acquaintances even knew that much about him. Every day at work Janious, the sectary of sorts, saw Johnathan walk by to his office. Always in a cold black suit matching his short cut dark hair. He wore glasses, though they did not talk away from his sharp devil physic.
Why Johnathan could make and break hearts without saying a single word, it was just in his nature whether or not he was even aware. All the female work associates in Stackbrooks Hall had fancied him at one point or another, but Johnathan was never one to mingle at special occasions that included those at work.
"Another woman missing" the headlining news report, blared from an old cheap TV at the Tankhold Diner. The blond waitress watched as she poured coffee into some old geezers mug. "You'd better keep an eye out Lucy, pretty young girls like you are always targets..." Lucy's boss said from the smoky kitchen. "They never find those snatched girls, on the news today, tomorrow no one will even remember. Sad. But that's just how it goes..." the older woman said as she emerged out of the kitchen. "Don't worry about me Katy, after today I told you; I'm paying my scum father a visit in his big company coffee to tell him what I should have told him years ago. Then... I'm packing up and heading to Kentucky, I'm going to stay with my sister for a while. Until I can get my life straighten out"
Around 8:00 PM that night Lucy set off to do just that, but she decided to pack first and just have everything ready in the car. So she could pay that visit she owed and leave out right after. That little old blue car of hers was packed to the rim with all the trinkets of a decent, single 25 year old leading a modest life: A small TV, and lamp some cloths a powder blue bathroom rug.
As she left her apartment on West Inn Ave, for the last time she had promised her good friend and now ex boss that she would call her once she was on the road. Just to let her know everything was alright... Lucy didn't have many people that cared about her in her life, so a friend like that she would not forget.
It was a hot summer night, but Lucy felt cold as ice when she saw her father's building towering above her. She got out the car regardless, powered by anger and hatred for the hell he had made her life. I won't go into the details, but I will say just looking at how she was living compared to him, was just one of many valid reasons.
Pulling into the parking guarded she got out, and made her way to the elevator. Inside the building it seemed the part she was in was partly closed off for construction improvements, and the addition of a new marble floor. The second elevator was out of service so she was forced to take the stairs. It takes a lot of motivation to walk or even want to walk up seven flights of stairs, just to give a piece of your mind to someone.
On the second flight...Lucy felt like she was being watched and it burned into the back of her mind as she went on. She went slower hearing watch she thought where footsteps, though she saw no one. However that eerie feeling was unshakable. Looking back again, she turned to continue and she was relieved seeing the dapper Mr. Davis warmly smile and pass her by. He turned and said, "I don't mean to sound rude, but you have beautiful eyes" she smiled and went on her way.
At the top of the stairs, she had finally made it. Lucy took a deep breath and was bracing herself for what she had came there for. But upon entering her father's office she only saw a sectary picking up the green and white papers off his desk. "Oh I'm sorry, Mr. Canvel is taken a sick weekend - If you like I can take down a message for you" the woman said dryly. "No... That's fine." Lucy said examining her thoughts. She was almost relieved that she would not have to face him just then, and had an offbeat happy notion that perhaps he would just die from whatever sickness. And she would not have to ever deal with him again, and he could no longer hurt her.
Lucy returned down the concrete stairwell, though this time it felt less dense and not as creepy. Back at the car park, she could make out something off on her windshield as she got closer she realized it was a rose, that was as alien as a tip at the Diner. She removed it carefully, and looked at it searching for a note that would say it was meant for someone else: there was nothing, just a red rose. Lucy felt around in her purse for her car keys and as she did a tall dark figure grabbed her from behind. She fought and tried to scream, but the man over powered her and even with the kicking and scratching she was helpless. He put some sort of odd looking white cloth over her face, and all went black.
Lucy could hear a car motor in her sleep, but like a living nightmare she could not awake. Cold footsteps... That's all that could be heard after it all stopped. The back of a tall man could be seen in the dark guard, opening what appeared to be a clear plastic container. He pulled out a blank oil canvas, and all the dressings an artist keeps; paints, brushes etc.
Among the other odd articles of tools and items, he also pulled out a black nylon cord, the man in the long sleeve white shirt wrapped it around his hand. And set the canvas and brushes in a row neatly on a stand on the side of the room. He then opened a carved out compartment in the concert floor. Revealing a wooden crate, which he then picked up with a bit of strange and placed it behind the canvas.
He put on a pair of blue gloves he had in his right pocket, and turned on an oddly made light that was strapped to the stand, which held the canvas. Mr. Davis face was reveled from the shadows. The horis light cast horizontal lines across his flawless cold face, he opened the crate. Inside a mangled Lucy Canvel, was laying bound inside... She was still alive, but only just. She moaned in fear at the sight of him. He leaned in and set her sitting up inside the large crate, he took the abused rose that was wrapped in the cord that bound her and placed it on her chest.
Brushing her hair back, in an almost reassuring manner, his gentle hand was meant to sooth. He then took the nylon cord from around his knuckles and strangled her without mercy. A young beautiful woman, with worlds of life ahead of her: Dead, at the hands of Johnathan Davis.
Johnathan, unflinching took up a stool from behind his black Mercedes and set in front of the blank canvas. And began to paint his lovely blue victim in all her splinter.
The night wore on, the city kept thriving and poor little Lucy was gone without as much as a prayer. No one would miss her, other than her old boss and a worried sister who would never know what happened to her. -Could she have run away? No how could someone runaway, from the place they were about to run away too? The police in Kentucky, unfortunately hadn't a clue as to her where abouts in the coming months.
-As Johnathan finished his beautiful eyed work of art, he placed the canvas in yet another plastic container... Holding many similar works, of other girls. He was the modern day Dracula, that under a cool smile terrorized the city. The monster."
Required class questions:
"Feel free to add to the lists to show how they have inspired you."
Reading over the list, I instantly imaged what type of person Johnathan was. A cool smart guy, the psychopathic killer preferences came from the item list... The containers and odd tools just to me released what Mr. Davis true occupation was: a killer. Everything else I literally made up as I went along. I'm fairly happy with it, and think the list and story made a pretty good match - actually would make a great comic book or movie, I think.
"Pick items from the list that seemed to stand out and explain why."
The things like cord, and crates... To me seemed like more than just an artist was using them.
"Help the writer of the list see those items from many angles."
Of course another take on this item list and character could be a humble artist, who wouldn't hurt anyone. Really it's just how you see it, or how you allow yourself to see it. To tell you the truth I could probably use this same asset list and character name and come up with 100 completely different short stories. Anyone can, just have to know how to use the old imagination, and put it to words!"(Jimerson)
Bibliography
Jessica Jimerson. (2011). Short Story 2-2. ENG421 Creative Writing: Wk2 Discussion, It's All in the Details. Westwood College. Page 2/2.
Christopher Allende. (2011). Asset List 1. ENG421 Creative Writing: Wk2 Discussion, It's All in the Details. Westwood College. Page 1/1.
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