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Pseudo Name

Pseudo Name

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Published by Brendan Schmidt
Pseudoname is the story of a young man who's searching for answers. Along the way he finds the truth, and now has to decide how to use it.
Pseudoname is the story of a young man who's searching for answers. Along the way he finds the truth, and now has to decide how to use it.

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Published by: Brendan Schmidt on Mar 11, 2008
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial No-derivs

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09/28/2012

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PSEUDONAME 1Running head: PSEUDONAMEPSEUDONAMEEnglish 315 Creative Writing IIMissouri State UniversityBrendan BAKER Schmidt
 
PSEUDONAME 2PSEUDONAME
The End
The smash shakes the ground, rippling out shock-waves that travel for miles. Theconcrete building sways, looking as if it's about to topple over. A mixture of metal rods, beamsand glass fall street-side crushing the pavement forcing it to buckle and fall into the sewers below. The smell of the city's sewage overcomes the scene. Rotting rat carcasses and human byproduct overwhelm my mind. My stomach takes control as I fall to my knees grasping myabdomen. Like a brick being forced through my throat, my lunch finds my mouth for the secondtime. I try and hold back the vomit, forcing myself to relax and not think of my currentsurroundings. I close my mouth by wrapping my lips under my teeth, pressing down to forcethem shut. I place my hands over my ears to block out the war behind me. Forcing my mind tostop, slowing down my thoughts and concentrating on the moment. I have put forth so mucheffort over the past few months to warp my mind in a type of cerebral saran-warp to protect thosearound me. I could sense the looming power lurk inside my empty stomach. Another crash bolsters through my hands ricocheting through my ear beating on my mind like a drum. I openmy eyes and turn to the cause of the crash. Still on my knees I place my hands on the ground and push, twisting my body in a 180 fashion. Over my head flies a blue BMW, head-first crashingagainst a glass building down the crumbling street. It's hood slices into the towering giantleaving a shattering rainfall in its wake. Quickly redirecting its vector in a sharp motionalongside of the building it now topples downward towards the street tumbling away like afootball. Suddenly the BMW stops, and rises from the street. Mac raises the beamer from theground placing its heavy burden over his head. His back and arms bend backwards readying for the throw. He snaps his muscles forward and the car launches into the air. I hear the crash of thecar but take myself to my feet. I dare not take my sight off Mac, I think to myself, he might beable to help me. I take off running towards the Super, dodging catapulted cars and razor sharpglass. “Titan!” I yell at Mac.“Andrew!” I reach him out of breath, panting as sweat drops from the face.“Titan... She's... She's..” I stutter over my words.“I know Andrew, I know. Are you hurt?” Huffing, I give him a look of confusion. “
 Are
 you hurt?”“No.. I'm Fine. But Naut is dead and I can't find the others. I think... I think they might all be de...”“STOP!” He yells, “We need to keep our cal...
 Fuck!
” Titan grabs me tight pulling metowards his chest popping several of my vertebra, and leaps. An oil trunk crashes and incinerateseverything around where I just was standing. I see the ground distance itself from us as Mac useshis super-strength to catapult us in the air. The explosion launches us so high the sounds of battleand smell of feces vanish. We enter a cloud dense with water. I can feel the moisture collect onmy face, refreshing my senses. We exit the cloud as quickly as we entered it, above us lies thedark blue heavens of the open sky. Feelings of serenity and tranquility course through my body.“We're too high!” Mac yells. The sounds of the passing wind muffle his words but I still hear himclearly. “When we come down we'll hit the ground with too great of a speed.” Ever so slowly didour acceleration diminish as we began to reach the peak of our flight. Our bodies for a mere
 
PSEUDONAME 3moment are completely weightless and with that instance my mind reflects.
The Middle
“Andrew, nice to finally get the chance to meet you. Please take a seat.”“Do I get the couch or the chair?”“Either of which you prefer. Most choose the couch, but I must say the chair is far morerelaxing.”“The couch, please.” I step towards the couch dazily, confused about my intentions. Whywas I here? I approach the couch taking the pillows occupying the seat and move them over tothe opposite side. The couch was comfortable enough, not too hard not too soft, quite relaxing if I may say so.“Your mother has spoken a great deal about you to me, and to be honest Im quite excitedabout getting to know you.” Her voice was soothing and also sounding as something was to bedesired. What personal gain could she get by trying to tinker with my mind? “I want to start byyou telling me why you think you're here. If you don't mind.”“I'm here...” I was at a loss for words. My mother had talked me into coming here after Igot out of the hospital, but I never really asked myself why. She is worried for my well being, Iknow this, but nothing really connected. “I'm here, because my mother referred me to you. She's been seeing you for several months now and it's helped her deal with things better, I guess. Shewants me to be able to as well. But as for why I'm really here? I don't know.”“Many people come to see me for reasons they don't even know. But to speak with meabout your issues won't solve them. When it comes to figuring out the solution to a problem, it'son your hands. I can merely help guide you towards a better way with dealing with your personalexpression. At all of our ages we never can seem to gain a grip on our emotions, and many people, including myself, need to talk with someone who's knowledgeable with emotions. Theycan help us understand what we really feel but what we choose to do with that interpretation isup to, well, the person. No one person can force you to choose one way or another, and anyonewho tries is merely manipulating you into thinking so.”“I can agree with all of that.”“Well good. I would like to start by you telling me some details about yourself.”“I'm 16, soon to be 17. I attend..” I pause for a moment and restart that sentence, “I didattend Columbia University High School for the Gifted. But due to some health problems I washospitalized for several weeks and cannot finish the semester. I don't go out, I don't have anyfriends, and I don't like change. ”“Why were you hospitalized for several weeks?”“I was in a coma for 3 weeks.”“Oh, dear. Why?”“The doctors don't really know. Several other of my peers were there too, but none stayedas long as me. No one was comatose for more than 2 days, other than me.”“That's terrible.”“I'm fine now.”“What happened?”

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