A crazy idea popped into my head, and I had to put it on paper. For some reason, the idea of Fallout came with it. I wrote up a chapter, that works more like an introduction or whatever, and I figured it might be decent enough for people to like. Maybe.

Anyways, it's pretty much about a Ghoul's slow crawl towards infinity. He's becoming mentally unstable, he's a hero, he's a drug lord, he's a homeless man on the side of the street. You might ask how, and if you're so far interested, read my introduction.

It's short, and is meant to just give the general idea of the story. How it'll be written, the character's thoughts, etc... Think of it as a potential trailer.



O, a little atomic bomb.

I stood there, reciting the Charles Bukowski poem in my head over, and over, and over. Prodding and poking the Megaton Bomb, standing in the radioactive puddle, I made a simple, short wish.

Boom.

End me. Take me from this part of the life process. Take me to wherever I needed to go next. Take me in a fiery pillar of Hell. Take this town with me. All it's inhabitants, all it's buildings, all it's influence. Take it all and let it burn.

You think I'm crazy? I think you're crazy too.

My people are a dying race. Killed by people who can't accept someone different than themselves. Ghouls? How did we earn the name ghoul? Our feral brothers gave us the name. Us with minds were forced to keep it. A ghoul is an evil being that robs graves, and feeds from corpses. I don't recall doing either of those things.

You look at me. You see a monster. You either run, yell profanity, slowly creep away trying to avoid my attention, or come at me with a knife and a lust for blood.

The Commonwealth built androids, with unbelievably real looking features. I figure, that skin is just a soft outer shell. On the inside, they're all metal and wires and lights. I used to live at a branch of the Commonwealth. I took their faces, and I left.

You look at me. You see a friendly face. You smile, nod, wave, continue on with your day. Or, you come at me with a knife and a lust of blood.

Lucas tells me to stop screwing with the bomb. I'm scaring the people, they think it's going to explode. Why live in a place where you fear your life everyday, some might ask. It's because that's every place in the world.

"Sorry, sir." I say, "I'll be one my way."

I leave the bomb in peace. My heavy bag is still hard to carry around my sore shoulder. With every face, there's a new personality.

Indigent?

Drug Lord?

Hero? ? Villain?

That's very well written, I've always liked stories where the central theme is something of a desent into insanity.