Tuesday, November 15, 2011

From the Story Department @CDC

We're not going to pretend that were the only bizznizz that values story first. We value what goes into a story, what shape or non shape it holds for us and more importantly you, the audience. Long story short. This is approved by the writer that I can share a taste of his writing for you guys starting at Chapter 1. The short story is called Julie. Which will be made into a film in our patiently waiting production department....Reader discretion is advised...



Without further ado,


Wes McPherson's Julie:

Chapter 1
Sometimes I have to take a serious step back and reevaluate myself. I’m hitting one of
those points now. Like most of them, it is a low point. It’s something fairly hard to explain.
This summer I noticed the girl who lives behind me. I just bought the house and moved
in, sometime in early July. I don’t really remember when, I was drinking a lot then. But it was
warm. I remember the blaring sun and the heat. I was laying drunk in the sun and I saw her
through the fence. I stood up to look at her and there she was, bathing in the sun.
She’s something like 16. Jailbait. I’m not a pedophile, I am a ephebophile. Perhaps in
some sense a hebephile. I can justify all this, but I’m not proud of it. These are just some of my
many faults and fetishes. In any case, her hair is long, her body is tight and fit. Breasts and hips
full. I was in rapture.
I sat in the gazebo that sits in my backward and watched her with relative anonymity. I
cannot even be sure she saw me. She was siting in a lawn chair in the middle of the yard, the sun
beaming onto her and she glowed. She had a yellow bikini on and sunglasses, with her hair back
in a ponytail. As in on cue she took her top off, baring her breasts and lay back soaking in the
sun.
A few days later I was again outside building a structure for myself to do chin ups on.
Nothing elaborate, I simply do not know how to denote it other than by the word “structure”. I
didn’t even try to look to see if she was watching me. I had my shirt off in the heat and I
glistened with sweat.
I went for a run and then did three sets until failure. When I was in my room changing
afterwards I noticed her dancing in a window. I used binoculars to get a better look. I could only
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see her hear and shoulders as she danced naked in her room, catching glimpses of her body in the
mirror. If she looked back she would have been able to see me reflected in my mirror. I couldn’t
help but wonder if the designer of these houses had done this on purpose.
I watched her for a few more days, never sure if she was watching me. I developed the
habit of masturbating to her when she lay naked in her backyard or danced naked in her room. I
could spend a free day staring at the house waiting for her to appear, and I could wait in vein.
When at work I thought about her. The anticipation was killing me, the release from it all when
glimpsing her was divine.
One thing that troubled me was that I didn’t even know her name. And I didn’t even
know if she knew that I existed. Was she teasing me? Or sharing with me? Did she even care
that I was watching her? Did she even know?
My answer came soon enough. I was standing in my backward with my push-mower,
meandering along cutting swaths of lawn. I was lost in a fantasy world, the same fantasy world I
am lost in whilst shaving. From no where I heard a voice. She was standing at the fence, her
arms dangling over the wood. Sunglasses on. It wasn’t immediately clear to me whether she
was fully clothed or not.
The tone of her voice and her cadence led me to believe that she was repeating herself for
the second or third time. She politely asking if I had a light, a cigarette moving from her mouth
to her hand and back. I apologized and said that I didn’t really smoke. She laughed, saying she
knew what that meant. She lit her own cigarette.
She told me that her parents and brother were gone for the summer, leaving her alone.
Because she was bored she was having a party. She coyly asked me to not tell her parents,
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dragging on her cigarette. I said as long as it wasn’t loud or anything, it should be alright. She
cast a faux smile and clasped her hands, stepping back from the fence to show me her breasts.
She asked if I knew why she had been left behind. Of course I said I didn’t.
She told me she had been suspended from school. She had been caught giving a boy
head on a school bus. Her parents grounded her, which she didn’t mind so much, but then they
decided to leave her behind from a Cuban vacation. That didn’t bother her much either, it was
easier for her to have sex when she was left alone, she said. Did I enjoy sex?
This was all becoming very surreal. I told her yes, in fact, I did enjoy sex. Dragging her
cigarette again she asked me when the last time was I fucked. I had to pause a second. The last
time I had fucked had been fairly recently, but it was something I’d rather forget. If the position
I was in now was morally questionable, what had happened before was a thousand times worse.
Gathering myself, I told her about Beast, as I prefer to remember her. A social worker I had been
fucking before I moved. She gave great head, but she was overweight and 10 years older than I
was.
The girl laughed and told me I was cool. She quipped it was too bad I was so much older
than her, again dragging her cigarette. She gave me her name, Julie ———. She told me to look
her up on facebook. She walked backwards from the fence, running her hands along her body
she struck a pose with her hair held up in her hands. She laughed again and told me I was funny,
sitting back in her chair.
That is how I met Julie.

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