Writing Sample

Here is something I wrote for my 'Creative Non-Fiction' writing class a year ago.  

“Fate Can Kiss My Ass!”

-Dylan Patton

The darkness will try to kill your light

Hope is not guaranteed

If you want an happy ending,

You have to fight!

You have to fight!

You want to kill the darkness?

You have to fight!

            Pretty catchy huh?  I think so too.  Its because it’s from a song I wrote.  “You have to fight.“ It was a hit single from my group, The Dark Fighters.  Oh, I’m Mason Cantrell by the way.  The Dark Fighters was the world’s greatest Rock & Roll band. 

At least I though so.

            We got out big break by entering a contest for the station 106.5 KZZL.  By winning, we got the honor for opening for Metallica.  We even got a record deal out of it.  “You have to fight,” and “Unrealities” were our two hit singles.  Our only two hit singles.

            I woke up this morning, like every morning, wondering how and where it went wrong.  I mean we had a kicking sound.  We got a standing ovation after our set.  Our album, “Opponents of the Dark” sold 500 copies across the US.  Not exactly record breaking, but it’s something.

            But then it stopped.  Our label dropped us because our album wasn’t selling.  I don’t get it! We were awesome! I guess because we didn’t get drunk, trash hotel rooms and become addicted to drugs, are the reasons why we weren’t cool enough.  We had two hot chicks in our band! That’s not cool enough?

            Cassandra, Alex, Brock and I made up The Dark Fighters.  We were all close, like a family.  We did everything we could to make it big.  We spent countless hours writing and recording.  We spent tons of money buying the best instruments we could find.  We promoted 24\7.

            But I guess fate didn’t give a shit.  Fate got together with the rest of the world and decided that we were useless.  It makes me so angry to see the type of music people prefer over us. 

            Lady Gaga, that talent less whore.  Miley Cyrus who can’t act, no matter what wig she puts on.  The Jonas Brothers? Don’t get me started on the Jonas Brothers.  Oh and Justin Bieber.           Are you fucking kidding me?? That little shit who looks like a sex change gone horribly wrong!  He’s better than us?

            I’m sorry.  That was out of line.  It just hurts so much to work so hard for your dream, only to have them taken away.  I wanted so badly to be a musician.  I knew deep down that I would and should be famous.  But I tried and failed.

            My band and I haven’t talked.  I guess it’s too painful to talk to each other.  It’s like seeing each other we’re reminded of what we had and lost.  I tried to get in contact with them.

Looking back, I’m sorry I did.

            Brock overdosed on drugs.  Reality couldn’t accept Brock, so he tried to escape into whatever drugs he could find.  It worked too well, and now he’s dead.  I bumped into his mother at a gas station.  Even though she whispered Brock’s fate, I could feel the heat from her eyes.

She blames me for Brock’s death.  Disagreeing with her won’t bring him back.

            I saw Cassandra at a Starbuck’s.  From what she told me, she’s been in a few films.  The haunted look in her eyes told me they’re the type of films she doesn’t want people to see.  When I tried to hug her, she stiffened.  I hope it was because she hates me.  I’m scared to think that some evil son of a bitch raped her.  But the haunted look and her body language hinted that her films aren’t the only cruel twist of fate she endured.

            Alex faired better.  She managed to get a job for her father.  She sells cars at a dealership.  She and her father never got along.  He constantly put her down.  He never hesitated to remind her ‘A musician is a waste of time.  You will fail.’  And now he reminds her just how right he was.  I try to visit Alex every now and then.  When I do, her father looks at me and laugh.

He doesn’t have to say it.  “You’re the reason why my daughter failed.”  His laugh reminds me of how successful he is and how worthless I am.

            I’m living a constant and slow death.  I dropped out of high school to pursue my passion of music.  I know have no idea what to do with my life.  I considered being a teacher, but I already lost one dream   I couldn’t stand to lose another one. 

            My parents live far away.  I’m in California, they’re in New York.  I’m too ashamed to ask them for money.  My parents have always been supportive.  But I know that if I ask help for once, I’ll have to ask for help again.  I don’t want to be a burden. 

            I was able to get a job at a local burger joint, Burger Heaven.  I hate it.  My manager is younger than me.  He treat me like a slave.  Most of my co-workers are fresh out of high school.

Oh they know who I am. 

“You’re that rocker who sucks and will always suck.”

            I keep trying to apply, to find another job.  But I have a feeling that no one wants to hire a nobody.  Even has beens are cooler than me.  I’m a ‘never been.’  Has beens had their shot at fame.  They made money.  Some of them even have fans who still worship them.  Most bands that are has beens, were given a chance. 

            Never beens like me, are a living joke.  Fate held out its hand with a chance, let us hold it, then said ‘Oh wait, never mind.’  We’re casted aside and left to die.  If a famous group of musicians die, the world will cry and mourn.

            When Brock died, no one cared.  I have a feeling that when Brock was found, the police or paramedics took one look and said ‘There’s another poor soul.’  If they did find ID on him, it wouldn’t have mattered.  They would know his name, nothing more.

            Cassandra isn’t dead, but deep down I’m scared.  When I think of that sad look, that sad way she seemed to hold herself told me something tragic.  She wants to die.  But she doesn’t have enough courage to kill herself, not yet.  I hope that I’m wrong.  I hope that Cassandra will be happy. 

            Yeah right.  Because life was so fucking great to her.  Sometimes Fate wants people to die, to suffer.  Cassandra is the kindest, most sweetest person you could imagine.  But for some reason, Fate wanted her to do filthy films.  To be used for sex then discarded.  Even if Fate were a real person, and Cassandra begged to be happy, Fate would look at her and just laugh.

‘It’s what I want.  Not what you want.’ it would tell her.

            It takes everything I have to get ready.  To walk across my dingy, pathetic studio apartment to get ready for the day.  Prepping myself in the bathroom makes it even worse.

I’m so broke I can’t even afford the good stuff.  Toothpaste, soap and shampoo are all bought at the 99-cent store. 

            The only time I get to eat is at work.  I beg every now and then for money.  I get some to help, but not enough.  I don’t have a phone, can’t afford one.  If I have to make a call, I go to the library near my apartment and use the one there.  I guess it’s because the librarian there feels sorry for me.

            TV? Nope.  Books? Nope.  Friends? If I did, I don’t think they even remember me.  I’m now the guy everyone ends a cruel joke with ‘At least you’re not Mason.’  I wonder if my life will get better.  And if it does, for how long?

            Now I’m getting dressed for work.  To the job I hate.  For the chance to work by the people who stop talking as soon as I enter the room.  To deal with customers who yell at me because they hate their food, maybe even their lives.  And lucky me, I’m the most available target.

            I walk to the door as fast as I can.  Before leaving for work, most people take one last look at their home.  They do it because they are grateful for what they have.  Most people have someone to kiss or hug goodbye.  I don’t.  If I look back at my apartment before I leave, it’ll only depress me.

            So that’s it.  If I left anything out, I’m sorry.  I tried to become famous.  I tried to live my dream.  But hey shit happens.  I once heard the saying ‘Fate is a cruel mistress.’  The best I figure, Fate decides what happens. 

Kind of scary isn’t it?

            To try with all your might to achieve happiness in your life, only to have someone or something make the final decision.  I sometimes think Brock is the lucky one.  He’s done. He can relax now.  He has no more worries.  He no longer has to worry about fear, doubt or heart break.

He’s resting. 

            Here are some parting words.  Fate is an asshole.  No matter how badly I wanted to be famous, or deserved to be famous, Fate didn’t care.  Fate decided to use me for sport.  It wanted to make an example of my friends.  It wanted to destroy their lives because it could.  It’s taunting me now.  It looks at me and smiles evilly.

“Cassandra, Alex, you.  One of you are next.  Who? I’ll surprise you!”

Hey fate, kiss my ass.