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Work in Progress: The City of Pulp Dreams

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  • Work in Progress: The City of Pulp Dreams

    (I've been bored at work. I've also not been writing for a dangerously long time. I just had the urge to write this based on something I jotted down. I just had the urge to write SOMETHING. So here we go. I may continue it with intense revision and rewriting. I've got an idea about where it's going. But not why it's going. Please, anybody tell me what you're thinking when you read this.)

    It may be in some unknown time when the Sun bleeds red, or maybe just a time that will exist only in the collective unconsciousness of mankind. The City of Pulp Dreams is a city without boundaries, where two fisted heroic scientist supermen dwell amongst glamorous femme fatales. Where Alien Overlords of immense size and scale command criminal organisations of power and the dark terrors of nightmares dwell in vast, gothic catacombs underneath the city.

    My name is Satchmo Lee; it's not my real name. My real name is not the name I use here. I'm 21 and I'm a child of the 21st Century, I was born in the 80s and that is enough for me to tell you how much I hate the world. Satchmo Lee is my pen name and in the City of Pulp Dreams, it is who I am. Satchmo Lee, detective, spy, hard core sex assassin, I can be all I dream. I am Satchmo Lee...


    �What is this shit?’

    Archie Mendoza was pushed to floor hard and he felt the papers fly free from his grasp. As he tried to get back up, two huge, heavy arms holding him on the floor in a headlock. Archie struggled vainly as he saw Frank Colvin, School football star and school yard terror pick up the papers he had stuff quickly into the pages of his schoolbooks.

    He waited for the laughter to start, he did not have long to wait.

    Satchmo Lee walked quickly under a bleeding, scarlet sun. One hand wiping the sweat from lipstick from his mouth, the other hand resting casually on a streamlined, silver energy-blaster. He passed by a blonde prostitute in a grey dress walking hand in hand with a white pimp dressed like a 70s blacksploitation character. He ducked into an alleyway as he heard the sound of the safety of a handgun clicking off.

    �Seriously, Mendoza, how sad do you have to be to write this kind of rubbish?’
    Colvin’s harsh words hurt almost as hard as the football boot digging into his crotch.
    �The world isn’t about spaceships and faggoty elves. Life is about winning, about making money and being popular.’
    �I write because I enjoy it…’ moaned Mendoza quietly. He wondered how Satchmo Lee would deal in this kind of situation.

    Satchmo had stopped struggling, letting the goons think he had won. Then, he drew the knife from the hiding place in his boot and drove it up into the neck of one of his assailants. It drove deep into the life support system of the Dioxide-Man and started to leak in precious air. The Dioxide-Man clutched his neck and squealed like a stuck pig. Using this chance, Satchmo Lee leapt up and pulled his blaster from his holster. He aimed and fired three times, each shot vaporising a differently positioned assailant. He grabbed the Dioxide-Man by one of the breathing tubes and jammed the gun into his neck.
    �Who sent you?’


    Fragments of paper fell around Archie’s head as Colvin tore the paper into tiny fragments. The final kick came, the last harshly whispered words about �getting a life’ and he was left alone, lying against the walls with only the rain of paper and the pain of his bruises for company.

    Satchmo Lee dropped the corpse of the Dioxide-Man in the alleyway. It didn’t really matter how many of them he killed. They were becoming an army these days, people sacrificing oxygen for the next quick fix and the lifetime of breathing through a messy concoction of pumps, tar and tubes. He sighed, holstered the blaster and wonder if he would actually get to where he was going without anymore trouble.

  • #2
    I think you've got a really interesting premis to work with here Manmiles. I was certainly intrigued by this fragment and would be interested to see how you choose to develop it. I hope you get time to continue...

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    • #3
      Interesting. I like the premise, and the way you're switching back so often, but personally I'd like to read more before commenting... in that, it depends where the premise leads. As far as I can see, it would depend how seriously you take the characters and the "Pulp City" interjections. It could either become a comedy piece, with the boy stretching his imagination to the very limits trying to make washing the family car seem like an adventure, or it could go very dark and he could start to believe he was "Satchmo"... or Satchmo could show up in "reality" of course, but that's all up to you. I just meant that with such an unusual premise, it might take a few more sections before we can see what you're building.

      The "why it's going", I think, would rather depend on where it's going. I seem to recall some reviewers commenting on a Jim Carrey film called The majestic that they would rather have watched the fake film-within-a-film that the characters were enjoying, because it was more fun than the real film was! I'm not suggesting that's the case here, but I think it's important to make both streams of narrative equally original and interesting in their own ways, to prevent too many readers from favouring one over the other. IMHO. :)
      "That which does not kill us, makes us stranger." - Trevor Goodchild

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