Sunday, May 29, 2011

Katie's Chainsaw Therapy

This is courtesy of, and inspired by, Katie of Whisperings of the Pen. Thanks, Katie, for the brilliance. 

When you're stuck, completely and utterly stuck, when you cannot seem to get anywhere in your story no matter how hard you try, no matter how many tears you cry, no matter how much sweat and blood you pour over into your notebooks/word documents...

Think for a moment. 

What would happen if one of your characters suddenly chanced upon a man chopping down the forest wildly with a chainsaw?

Read on if you dare.

Note: This take place, or hypothetically takes place, during a low point in Chance's life. So pardon me if the funny parts are funny (if there are any) and the rest of it is kind of depressing.

Also, it's kinda sorta long, so beware....

Chance and the Man with the Chainsaw

Chance collapsed, his palms planted on the rock to steady himself. He angrily blinked away at the tears that weren't really there. Still angry and frustrated, he slammed his fist on the hard stone a couple times. Ow. The last fews kicks and blows delivered to him by Sir Robert were still sharp, and hurt when he moved. Now his hand was throbbing, too.

It annoyed him that these almost daily beatings upset him so much that he had to escape- he had seen the other squire's show up in the morning with plenty of bruises and injuries too. Knight were not the most loving of beings toward their trainees; but they had grown up in this. He hadn't. Did that make him weak?

Regardless of that, he thought, what could he do about his habit now?

It had, naturally, now become a steady routine to come out here through the postern and sit in the forest for an hour or two before the light faded entirely-- the forest was always the prettiest at sunset, when everything was turned to gold by the sun. It didn't matter whether he had been beaten that day or not, his feet automatically led him out here regardless.

Gazing up at the trees, Chance was suddenly reminded of one day, high up in the top of the Old Tree, when he had fallen asleep once, by accident. It was already about 10 o'clock in the morning, and he awoke to the swaying of Old Tree's wispy upper branches and his father, so far down below, calling his name. "Chance! Wake up, or you'll fall to your death. I'm not climbing up there to get you!"

He remembered giggling at the teasing tone in his father's voice. He was little then.

The sudden recollections raised the unfailing, terrible lump in his throat, and his vision blurred with fresh tears. A sob started to escape...


The sudden sound startled Chance out of any feelings of grief. He looked up, wide-eyed (though, his eyes were puffy so it was hard to tell), his glance darting in all directions, the foreign intrusion of noise seeming to come from every direction.

After a moment, it became clear that the noise was loudest over to his left.... and Chance turned slowly, not at all sure what frightfulness awaited him...

It was a wild-eyed man, holding a large, metal object that was shredding every tree it touched to pieces. There were several large crashes coming from behind the lunatic, presumably pervious victims that were falling over in his wake.

The fellow yanked his machinery out of one tree and ran to another, and the one he had just shredded toppled over as he ran to destroy another one.

Chance stood there, eyes wide, one eyebrow cocked and nose wrinkled in bewilderment. I'm afraid he knew not what to make of the Chainsaw Man, because, frankly, he had never seen a chainsaw before, as a matter of fact they hadn't even been invented yet.

Another tree toppled over with a heavy, creaking groan, a gust of wind sending it straight toward Chance. He looked up and yelped, leaping backward. He cleared it just in time, though some of the wildly shaking branches smacked him across his face, stinging like overly large nettles. "Hey!" he barked. He shook his head and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Heeey! You, sir!! Hoy there!"

Chance wasn't sure how long it was before the wild man turned toward him. Upon seeing him, the stranger's eyes widened, and his chainsaw was abruptly turned off.

"What's that you say, there?" He asked, with an accent Chance could not identify, much less understand. We would call it a Brooklyn accent.

Chance swallowed. "Why are you attacking the trees? What's that thing?"

The man gulped and glanced down at his saw. Then he looked around the forest. "Huh? Where am I, sonny?"

Chance gave him a dubious look. "You're in the forest belonging to Sir Morcant. Corbey Keep is right that way."

The man's jaw dropped. "You mean England?"


"I'm in the Middle Ages?"


Ignoring the question, the man glanced back at the trail of destruction he had made, and started trudging back, glancing this way and that as if looking for a trail.

"Pickles was right. You can step through one of those portals without ever realizing it. How to get back, now......." He continued backtracking through his trail of destruction, muttering to himself.

If Chance's eyebrows could have shot up any higher, they did. The man waved his hand around the empty air, apparently feeling for something. Presently, when his hand looked, on the air, that it was touching something solid, he gave a little "whew!" of relief and slid his hand along the invisible thing.

"What are you doing?" asked Chance, mildly irritated.

"Trying to get back to my district, that's what."

Now Chance's entire face furrowed in confusion. District?

"Look, sir, I don't believe--"

"Aha!" The man declared in exultation. Chance noticed that his hand seemed to be plunged into something, and in midair, his hand had disappeared. The man withdrew his hand, and it reappeared.

He fussed with some switches on his saw. "Pleasure to meet you, dude."

Chance opened his mouth to reply, but the man had already turned on his machine and with a loud, buzzing sort of roar from the saw, plunged through the invisible opening. After he and his chainsaw disappeared, the forest was suddenly quieter than it had ever seemed to be before. It was empty, too.

Chance glanced around a few times, called "Sir?" once, in a whisper, then shrugged to himself and turned back toward the Keep. As he neared the postern, he sighed, as a depressing thought stuck him.

What with all these appearing and disappearing people with crazy devices, he was going to have more than his fair share of nightmares. Undoubtedly, he would wake up Sir Robert yet again. Chance rolled his eyes heavenward. And the most recent bruises hadn't even healed yet....

Oh, well. When squirehood was over, he would be more than happy.


There you have it. My insanity. Hope it didn't scare anybody off.

However, despite it's dubious appearance, researchers have noted the most positive of effects on your writing and brain cell functioning after completely this therapy. It is highly recommended by specialists for Stuck-In-A-Rut writers. 



Anonymous said...

Hooray for Chainsaw Therapy! Hooray for insanity and complete and utter nonsense!

"If Chance's eyebrows could have shot up any higher, they did."

Hilarious, I say. I was grinning as I read. Wonderfully done, my friend. I loved it. ;)

Everyone's Favorite Composer said...

That was the most brilliantly hilarious thing I've ever read!!!

Anonymous said...

That was hilarious!!!! :):):):)

Lainie said...

That was awesome-- I laughed out loud :D

Pathfinder said...

Thank you Chayal! That brightened my day with much-needed laughter.

Anonymous said...

Ha, that was absolutely hilarious!! XD

-Barriss =)

Jake said...

That guy was almost scary. :| Not as scary as you, of course.

That was undoubtedly a very entertaining read. *mediocre nod* Well done, lass. Well done.

The Director said...

Thanks you guys :D

I'll take that as a compliment anyway. Thanks, Sir Jake ;)