Upturn is a story that I started to write in 2008. It was originally intended to be a group of 500-word points of view, but ended up being too big. Most of the entries are introductions to a new character’s story as part of a larger, incomplete epic.
I started writing Upturn in 2008. This is around the time that I realized there are two things that I’m really good at: planning, and starting stories. I had hundreds of pages of planning for this story, and virtually everything I wrote is an introduction. What I realized I needed a lot of practice on, on the other hand, was moving forward. I’m still not as good at writing Act Two as I am Act One, but considering that I’m a hell of a lot better at writing Act One than a lot of amateurs are, I won’t consider that too harsh of a measurement of my progress.
For an insomniac half-breed, nocturnal by night and diurnal by day, there is no faith. There is only hell, and the hells that lie beyond. Read Part 1.
Police Sergeant Brian Holmes rapped on the door once, twice, three times. He paused for a second and, hearing no response, shot the knob off the door and entered. These matters called for rapid- and occasionally brutal- arrests, which is why only Sergeants and above were authorized to make this kind of arrest. Sergeant Holmes was proud to be one of the few who weren’t afraid to wade in the midst of the heresy, and one of the even fewer men who didn’t balk at the amount of paperwork required. Already, a discharge of firearm and damage to personal property had occurred. If the party was as crowded as he suspected, he would also have to requisition a new supply of teargas. Read Part 2.
“Why does it always have to be a routine duty?” Those were Jim Tantic’s last words, before the taste of steel in his mouth was replaced by that of iron, the feeling of pain in the back of his throat was replaced by one of numbness, and his difficulty breathing was replaced by a blissful emptiness. Read Part 3.
The straw that broke the camel’s back was a pebble that broke through the puppy’s cracked rib, spraying blood on the ground and opening the way for more fatal injuries. Unfortunately, straws rarely fall one at a time, and it was impossible to tell which was the straw. Read Part 4.