The Time Traveler :: Creative Writing Essays

The Time Traveler If you forecast around it, its kind of funny for an atheist to have the power of God. Its in any case funny that Im one sentence into this narrative, and Im already way ahead of myself. I guess Id better forget everything Ive l drawed close to reality layers, chro nonons, and hyperbubbles and discover to remember the basics of chronological storytelling. I am, after all, an historian. Oh, maybe not by choice, to be sure -- I always wanted to be a Vigilante. Never really had the stomach for the new pulverizers, though. Maybe I was brainwashed. Ill tell you who wasnt afraid of the pulverizers, though the Patrolmen. Hardly a day went by when you didnt read about some poor fool who had challenged the Patrolmen by committing an criminal offence within the guns range. Of course, what passes for an offence nowadays is enough to make an historian jape -- we who remember vividly the days when saying God damn it would obtain you a demerit in Sister Winterss moral va lues level instead of sending your pieces to hell in about fourteen divergent handbaskets. Thats where it all started for me, actually, in Sister Winterss ramify. Arthur was there, besides... God damn it That hurts We were 13, Arthur and I, and still he hadnt learned not to take the Lords name in vain in front of a hardcore nun like Sister Winters. The musical musical phrase tough-as-nails didnt even begin to describe her. Once, she punched poor Shelly Hurston in the throat because she truism what she described as a suspiciously sinful-looking bruise there. Sister Winterss tremendous Hickey Cure is what we called it in fact, it was just a sixty-three-year-old-womans-fist-sized bruise awry(p) on top of the first one. That was when we were 11, and Shelly still couldnt turn her head as well as far to the left on this day. But what was she going to do about it? Her parents had called in political favors all the way up to the Archdeacon of Schools, and they werent about to la mbaste a fuss and risk losing the scholarship they had weaseled out of the system for her. But, anyway, Arthur had snarl up responsible for Shelly ever since, mainly because he had been the generous provider of the sinful-looking bruise. Shelly had neer tattled on him, either, which, in those days, was grounds enough for us to consider them a couple.The Time Traveler Creative Writing EssaysThe Time Traveler If you theorise about it, its kind of funny for an atheist to have the power of God. Its to a fault funny that Im one sentence into this narrative, and Im already way ahead of myself. I guess Id better forget everything Ive learned about reality layers, chronotons, and hyperbubbles and turn up to remember the basics of chronological storytelling. I am, after all, an historian. Oh, maybe not by choice, to be sure -- I always wanted to be a Vigilante. Never really had the stomach for the new pulverizers, though. Maybe I was brainwashed. Ill tell you who wasnt afraid of th e pulverizers, though the Patrolmen. Hardly a day went by when you didnt read about some poor fool who had challenged the Patrolmen by committing an offence within the guns range. Of course, what passes for an offence nowadays is enough to make an historian laugh -- we who remember vividly the days when saying God damn it would earn you a demerit in Sister Winterss moral values class instead of sending your pieces to hell in about fourteen antithetical handbaskets. Thats where it all started for me, actually, in Sister Winterss class. Arthur was there, too... God damn it That hurts We were 13, Arthur and I, and still he hadnt learned not to take the Lords name in vain in front of a hardcore nun like Sister Winters. The phrase tough-as-nails didnt even begin to describe her. Once, she punched poor Shelly Hurston in the throat because she maxim what she described as a suspiciously sinful-looking bruise there. Sister Winterss fearsome Hickey Cure is what we called it in fact, it was just a sixty-three-year-old-womans-fist-sized bruise laden on top of the first one. That was when we were 11, and Shelly still couldnt turn her head too far to the left on this day. But what was she going to do about it? Her parents had called in political favors all the way up to the Archdeacon of Schools, and they werent about to post a fuss and risk losing the scholarship they had weaseled out of the system for her. But, anyway, Arthur had felt responsible for Shelly ever since, mainly because he had been the generous provider of the sinful-looking bruise. Shelly had never tattled on him, either, which, in those days, was grounds enough for us to consider them a couple.