Affect

You are reading this post right now. Earlier, I was writing it. Why did I write it? To affect the future. Because you are reading this right now,  you're not doing something else. 

According to the butterfly effect, even the smallest littlest change can have huge implications down the line. The mere fact that I wrote this and you're reading it may be the difference between kingdoms rising and falling. 

In an alternate dimension, a parallel universe, where I never wrote this post, things were not changed, not affected. As a result of that tiny, seemingly insignificant choice, everything changed.

Maybe by reading this post you'll have slightly different dreams, remember slightly different things about them, who knows?

And as a result the world will change.

Courageous Creativity

My wife checked out a book from the library called Courageous Creativity; the tagline is Advice and Encouragement for the Creative Life. I've read the first 60 pages so far and it's really good. It's about encouraging you to use your creativity and create. For example, write.

I finally wrote the first chapter of my book down one week ago. This is a book that I've been working on in my head for years and years. Plotting out the characters, major events, major themes, that kind of thing. But only now am I starting to write it out. I also wrote the first little bit of chapter two as well.

Chapter 2

            Casey sat down on her couch.

            She opened her laptop and scanned her emails. Nothing new. That was worrisome. Casey stood up and paced around the living room of her apartment. How long had it been since she had heard from Harriet? Two weeks? Something was definitely wrong.

            She remembered the day she heard the news. She was sitting in that very room, working on her research into ancient civilizations, when one of her three roommates came in.

            “Casey,” she said, “you have to see this.”

            Casey sat up straighter. “What is it Nel?”

            Nel walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the TV remote. “Look,” Nel said, and turned on the TV.

            “—let it cook for fifty to fifty-five minutes,” the person on the TV was saying.

            “Huh?”

            “Shoot. Sorry,” Nel said, pulling up the channel guide. “It’s just that in movies and shows and such whenever a person has some news story to share, when they turn on the TV it’s automatically on the right channel.”

            The news station came up on the screen. It was currently in the middle of showing a Coca-Cola commercial.

            “And it always turns on right at the beginning of the news story the character was thinking about,” mumbled Nel, then turned off the TV. “Forget it, here, look.” She took out her phone and pulled up an article.

            Casey looked over at her roommates phone, and soon began to feel chill.

            That was three weeks ago.

I'm probably going to change the very beginning of that. Sitting down on a couch isn't that exciting. Anyway, that's my blog post for this week. 

The Fallacy of Time . Chapter 1

The Fallacy of Time

Book One of the Temportation Trilogy

Chapter 1

    Brandon raced up the stairs.

    Panting and sweaty, he rounded another corner. Under normal circumstances, he would rest, take a break, breathe and get his strength up. He wasn't able to do that now, however, figuring there were two men running behind him trying to kill him.

    Brandon heard a gunshot ring out and he instinctively ducked. He had survived for twenty years in his violent village in Africa, he would certainly survive here. It didn't hurt that he also had a couple of tricks up his sleeve.

    Rounding the corner in the stairwell, he burst through a door into a hallway. He raced down it, and heard noise coming from up ahead. What? There shouldn't be anybody here! thought Brandon. One of the main reason he had chosen this particular building to try to escape was because he thought it didn't have any innocent bystanders. He didn't want anyone getting hurt.

    Down the hall, he could hear the two men running up the stairs. In front of him, a custodian walked out of a side office.

    "Hey! No one's allowed in here! What are you--" the custodian was cut off as Brandon pile drove him back into the office. They both crashed down onto the floor, and Bradon put his hand over the man's mouth.

    "Listen," Brandon hastily said, "There are two men behind me trying to kill me. You need to hide, and you need to make sure that they don't see you. Got it?"

    The custodian had a look of terror across his face. Brandon released his hand. "Do you understand?" Brandon asked again, getting up from off the floor. Out in the hall, noise could be heard of running feet. The custodian nodded, his eyes still wide. "Good," Brandon said, and stuck his head out the door. 

    The door to the stairwell opened, and two men emerged. Tall, black, and muscular, they looked similar to Brandon. Brandon focused, and a few seconds later, the guns the men were carrying vanished. There was a soft whooshing sound as the air rushed in to fill the void their weapons had made. "Not again!" cried one, as Brandon dashed back out into the hallway and ran away from them. Brandon knew they had other weapons on them, but that bought him a few moments.

    Thankfully, those few moments were enough, as Brandon reached the end of the hall and turned the corner. He could hear the men running after him again, and by this time Brandon figured they already had other guns out. Brandon ran for the exit door. Ahead of him, two guns materialized midair in the hallway and clattered to the ground. As Brandon sped past them he reached down and grabbed one. He reached the exit door and spun around, firing the gun back towards the corner. He heard one of the men curse. Good, thought Brandon, and then he opened the emergency exit door.

    Or, at least, he tried to. Brandon winced as his shoulder collided with the door, which he thought would budge but for some reason refused to. The alarm in the building did start to go off, though. Brandon was frantic now. He looked up and saw a sign on the door. It read: Emergency Exit only. To Open, press on Handle and wait 30 seconds. Doors will then automatically open.

    30 seconds! I don't HAVE 30 seconds! Brandon thought in a panic. He turned and fired a few more shots down the hallway, then turned back to the door. He looked at the locking bars in place and focused. There was a small woosh of air, and the bar disappeared. Brandon crashed through and then slammed the door behind him. Turning, he then bolted up one more flight of stairs before emerging on the rooftop.

    The building he had chosen for his escape was 30 stories high. He ran to the edge of the roof and looked out over the railing into the city stretched out before him. He couldn't help but be impressed. America. So this is what it's like. All his life he had never been. It was too bad that a recent archeological and scientific discovery that threated the very foundations of society was the only reason he was here. It would have been nice to visit in less deadly circumstances.

    The door to the roof slammed open again. The two men burst through, guns raised. They looked over at Brandon and pointed. So, Brandon did the only logical thing to be done.

    He jumped off the roof.

    As Brandon plummeted down, the men ran to where he was just standing. Brandon knew they couldn't follow him. Well, they could, but then they'd end up splattering onto the sidewalk below. Brandon had other plans for himself. He spread his body out horizontally and stuck his arms out in front of him. In an instant, a large blueish-green hang glider appeared around him. 

    If anyone had been looking up at him the very next second, it would have looked like the hang glider had been on Brandon for the past few minutes. Of course, they would have been completely wrong.

    They also, of course, would have been completely right.

    Brandon grabbed the steering bar of the hang glider and moved it to the left. He tilted up and the glider flew him through the air, over the street far below, and away from the building where two men now stood on the roof, despondent.