New Name, New Identity - 6/8

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New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby Brian » Tue Jun 08, 2010 5:34 am

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New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby Brian » Tue Jun 08, 2010 5:34 am

You've left town—ditching your old, miserable life—hoping to start a new life for yourself. You've given yourself a new name, fake background and style. Write about your first encounter in your new town.

You can post your response (750 words or fewer) here.

Miss Ruth
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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby Miss Ruth » Tue Jun 08, 2010 11:26 am

Your welcome to anything you want, except for one thing. Enjoy everything, except for this. You can do anything you want, but don't touch that. Well, what did he think was going to happen when he kept emphasizing how great it was, but I couldn't have it. He knew that eventually I wouldn't be able to help myself. It wasn't even that great. Certainly not worth all the trouble it caused.

Then all I heard was how he couldn't believe I ignored what he said. He couldn't believe what I had done. It's not like the world ended. So, I decided I had to leave. To start over. New life. New name. Where no one is going to blame for all of the worlds problems.

I think I've finally found a place I can call home. It's taken a very long time to find. Somehow my past kept catching up with me and I would actually be run out of town. This time though, I have a good feeling. This place feels very welcoming. Tree lined streets and children playing outside. Couples walking and holding hands. Beautifully landscaped homes with white picket fences. It looks like paradise.

I looked around town and finally found a place for rent. It seems to have everything I could want, almost like it was made just for me. Time to start my new life. The sign on the door said the person next door was handling the rental, so that's where I went.

I was nervous as I walked up the steps and rang the bell. That feeling was quickly replaced with relief and joy when the door opened. A woman appeared with a warm inviting smile.

"Hi, I'm Evelyn, from Edenville. I'd like to rent the home next door", said Eve.

"Welcome to New Brimstone, dear. Your going to love it here", answered Lilith.

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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby kennydee » Tue Jun 08, 2010 11:33 am

Lights from the opposite shore shimmered through the mist, and the lights of downtown Louisville threw Brochman's spectre shadows into the fog. Fitting, I thought, that I start my new life and artificial identity here, in a warm, wet haze that shrouded me from view. Louisville: big enough to get lost in, too small to attract the attention of television network cameras that might send my image back to Dallas, where someone would recognize me, and answer the question, "Whatever happened to Ron Acton?" I sat on the damp riverbank and considered what I had lost, and pondered my future.

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RE: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby johndavidc » Tue Jun 08, 2010 1:05 pm

I am one thousand miles from home now. Another strange town, driving down strange roads, looking at strange buildings, staring at strange faces. Everything is different here, except me. I have a new name, a new history, and even new clothes. But I have not changed. I cannot leave my past behind, it hitches a ride in my head.

These people do not know me. They are inclined to believe anything I tell them. Why would this stranger in town lie about his past? Everyone assumes I am an upstanding citizen coming to live in their quaint little town. I am well dressed and I can force a genuine looking smile. They think I am as ‘normal’ as they are. In their eyes I do not look like the famed ‘boogey man’ they have been taught to fear.

If they knew why I ran away they would see I was nothing like them. If they knew why I left the last town they would run me out of town or, more likely, string me up from the nearest tree. But people are generally good and trusting, a trait that benefits me constantly. I have found that if you dress nice, flash a smile, and say socially acceptable things people will let their guard down. Once they invest their time to get to know and like you the door is open. Usually just one or two conversations are enough to win a person’s trust.

Each new town was going to be a fresh start. In one small town I went almost six months before I turned into the monster I really am. I had a decent job at the local grocery store, a nice little basement apartment in town, and a bank account with over five hundred dollars. I wasn’t living like a king, I wasn’t trying to, I was living an average American life. For a few short months I was normal.

But it surfaced again…that damn desire. The desire that could only be quenched one way. I fought it for ten days, hoping it would pass. It never did. I found myself on the park bench without any conscious effort. I spotted my target and closed in. I was on the road the next morning by five. Leaving my job, my apartment, and my five hundred dollars behind.

Maybe things will be different this time. This is a nice little town. People here seem nice…and trusting.

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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby Neets » Wed Jun 09, 2010 2:25 am

Meh, I messed up on the prompt and came up with this. At least it's not over word count this time... someday I'll get it all together, then of course forget where I put it....


The remote control shattered into a thousand plastic shards when it hit the t.v. screen. It was a huge mess, and as soon as I had done it, I was sorry I did it.

The t.v. didn't even shut off, I was sure that I depressed the button before I hurled the remote, the report on my lover's death and photos of myself continued, along with all the speculations. Angrier now, I mentally tried to calm myself for the treacherous walk over the many plastic shards of the remote to shut off the t.v.

It was time to get to the airport. My lawyer, Eric, had chartered a private flight for me, it would cost a small fortune of course in my middle-class mentality, but worth every penny.

Daniel was not just "one of my lovers", he was my soul mate and I carried his child. He died in my arms as we were making love, no clue that his heart couldn't keep up with his passion.
Therapy was in my future.

So was Idaho.

My modeling life was over, which was fine with me. I had plenty of my own money, and was not gold-digging Daniel as the press implied. I'm a saver, not a spender, as a model I knew early on that I had to plan for my futre. I managed to look stylish sure, but I very rarely splurged. The interviews with Daniel's grown children from his prior marriage left no doubt that I was considered a threat to their financial wellbeing.

It was easy to find a great stylist in Idaho. She bleached my hair and cut it at my home, and I had Eric collect all the paperwork needed to go back to a rough approximation of my original name. I bought a small ranch, nothing fancy. Some of the livestock came with the property which was fine with me. The employee of the original owner was going to stay on, and the owners assured me that he was trustworty.

It only took two weeks for the press to find someone else to hound. Now that my former image was completely portrayed as an evil gold digger, a new scandal was only around the next corner.

My daughter Holly was eight years old before it all caught up with us again. She had a "normal" life, I had seen too often what growing up too rich to be bothered had done to many children, and I strove to keep our wealth hidden from everyone, including her.

My face had aged naturally, I didn't fight it one bit. My co-worker thought she was doing me a favor when she snapped photos of me without my knowing and sent them to her friend in New York, a modeling agent, hoping to launch a career for me, not realizing I was far too old.

So my fame found me, and found Holly within a day. Holly was abducted from the yard of her best friend as they played together, I found out I was famous again only minutes after the frantic phone call at work from Shelly, the girl's mother.

The local news in Idaho had an impressive army of paparazzi considering this was the middle of nowhere. As I left work for Shelly's to meet the police the flashbulbs were blinding. I ripped at my hair, hysterically shrieking as the horrible reality convinced me this wasn't a nightmare. My co-worker Brenda tore the car keys from my hand and helped me to push through the crowd that had gathered.

Holly's kidnappers wanted 10 million. My assets totaled 2 million. I had no doubt that Daniel's children were now wondering if they had a half-sister and hoping I wouldn't be calling.

It's the price of fame.

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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby TildeKay » Wed Jun 09, 2010 8:01 am

Dramatis Personae

It's been a long ride. The sun is sinking somewhere in the distance and you've had all day to run through the stories in your head. A giggle bubbles up out of your throat. This nervous energy is making you shake. The whole world is a child's game tonight, and nobody knows the rules but you.

You think about all the names and faces you've cobbled together in your mind. Who will you be? The snooty art critic? The down-and-out college student? The wily con-artist? You like the name Jessica, and Randall. But not for you. Parents, maybe - one sick with terminal illness, the other recently unemployed; or perhaps your fiancé, ex-fiancé, twice now - and the homewrecker who keeps stealing your love away.

Oh, but all these sound so boring. Drama can be a kick, but how long can you listen to a stranger's sob story before you start counting the ticks of your wristwatch? You need something light-hearted, engaging. You need to work in the line, "Sacramento's nice this time of year," just because you like the way it feels coming off your tongue.

The lounge is quiet and spacious. A few voices drift and fade in murmur from the corners of coffee-colored vinyl booths and red leather tabletops. A small television is mounted near the back, flashing color and numbers into empty space while emitting little more than a reticent hiss of static noise. The lighting is low and iridescent yellow, and reminds you of the pages of an old phone book; like this is what the world would look like, if you could see through them.

"Hey kid, you're kinda early," you hear a voice choke out from behind the bar. You walk toward the sound and the little balding man who made it. He is folded over the counter, the bulk of his weight resting on his thick pink forearms. He sees you coming and leans up, shifting to rest on his large white knuckles instead. "The night crowd won't start showin' up for another couple hours at least."

Here's your big chance. What do you say?

"That's all right," you say softly. You hear your voice tremble in apprehension and make a conscious effort not to grin. You could blow it, but this is so exciting! With a quick sigh you let loose the tight grip of muscle and sinew so anxiously coiled around your aching bones. You feel fluid now, relaxed, and speak with confidence. "I don't expect I'll be here too long." You flit your eyes over to meet his, to gauge his reaction. With the threat of mystery you add, "I'm just passing through, after all."

At first you worry he won't take the bait. His whole body turns to look away from you, it seems, but steadily revolves back as though on a pivot. "Oh yeah? Where you headed?"

It's all the invitation you need.

Tomorrow and for many days to follow you'll think back on this first attempt and cringe; but tonight you'll spend the whole night spewing out the first stupid thing that pops into your head, no matter how dreary or elaborate. Right now they are only lies, but in time, they will become illusions. Narratives. Stories. You'll work out the proper inflections and emotional gestures, like when to tuck your chin to your shoulder to conceal a wry smirk or when to shudder with the effort of barely repressed tears. You'll carry with you a wardrobe of personae, each one a second skin, each with a new life more fascinating and real than the one that came before - than the one you left behind.

Because every one needs a little truth now and again, right?

Not the kind you get from prophets and politicians, either, but the kind you get from mountebanks; from magicians and bards; from harlequins. The kind that dazzles you from the start, none of that ‘wait and see’ poop unicorns and rainbows. You’ve spent your whole life waiting until now. This is your chance to fix everything; because in time, you’ll have spun so many tales and lived so many different lives that you might start forgetting which one was supposed to have been your own. It will become just another part of the act. As well it should, you think. The only way to stop wondering about who you are is to start wondering about who you’re going to be.

So if the bartender gets bored with you or worse, sees through your charade, you'll forgive yourself. You won't get discouraged. Tonight is only a practice run, after all.

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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby SaBlonde1 » Wed Jun 09, 2010 12:44 pm

The sign read, Please Be Quiet. Perfect. Why did I never think of working in a library before? The customers would be low key, and the staff would be soft spoken. What a change!

A flight attendant has its glamor, sure, but oh, the obnoxious people you had to deal with in to survive in your job. Pleasant and cheery to passengers, no matter how rude they were, like the guy in first class–some hotshot director–snapping his fingers at me for service . . .with a smile. The crew was no better, nor were the pilots. “Sheil, could you check on this; Sheil, could you tend to the woman in 20C? She is throwing up and upsetting all the other passengers. Sheil, could you work a double shift today?” Unfortunate name, Sheila Moran. The only thing I hated more than my name, was everyone’s nickname for me, Sheil, or if they were annoyed or angry, Moron. I couldn’t win. Time to move on, another city, another job, another name.

Clover City. What a lovely, tranquil town it seemed. Here I am walking in the front door
of the Clover City Library and spotting that wonderful sign. I walk up to the front desk, and say, “Hello, my name is Jane Jordan (cool alliteration, huh?). I’m here for the desk position. I have an appointment for an interview.”

“Oh sure, honey, I’m Lotta Funhya, get it,” she said jabbing me in the ribs. Then she laughed and I looked around for the braying donkey.

Sara McNulty

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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby eternoxamante » Thu Jun 10, 2010 3:02 am

“Jay. Blue Jay.
“Okay, so it’s not much different from Sparrow Finch, but I figure that it works good enough. I mean, my whole name… my whole EXISTANCE was a joke to my family, so I’ve got a new start here, and hey, why not start it out with another joke?
“So, I step off of the bus and onto the sidewalk, which isn’t so much of a sidewalk as it is a neatly-compressed mound of dirt that has been strategically placed next to the tarmac roads. I don’t mind it; it’s an improvement from home, you know? I hated home; the streets, the sounds, the sights, the people, and all of the other factors that make of home reminded me of how much my family hated me and about how alone I really was there. So I would gladly trade paved sidewalks and busy streets for… complete inactivity?
“I look around and there’s literally no one out at about. Growing up in the big city, where there was mayhem almost every other day, did nothing to prepare me for absolute isolation on the streets. As I watch the bus go, I wonder if I should run for the next bus stop and just go back home. But I am already here, and I’ve already got a plan, so I just keep going. When I walk, I hear the clicking of heels. “Huh?” I look down at my shoes; I NEVER wear heels. I must have forgotten that I put them on. But in looking down at my heels, I see a jean skirt and a v-neck top. That’s completely unlike me.
“I keep walking, though, and I observe my surroundings. There’s a hospital to my left, a retirement home to my right. My heels are sinking in the sand by the time I pass the High School, and I peek in through the window. They’re all in uniforms. Girls are wearing catholic school uniforms; you know the ones. Plaid skorts, white button-up shirts, their hair in a ponytail or down, and the guys have their while button-up shirts and their black slacks. I get scared for a moment and I turn to leave the school, but someone grabs my shoulder.
“I spin around, and it’s an older version of Nicole, staring me down. “Ms. Jay,” she says it with such a stern voice, “Why aren’t you in school? You could definitely use some religion in your life.”
“I don’t have an excuse. I just got here, and I tell her that, but she slaps me across my face and suddenly she’s my mom. “How dare you run away?!” My mom is screaming at me now. “Do you know what you’ve done to our image?!” And she pulls out a knife from her pants pocket and she holds it up over my head and…
“And then I wake up.” Sparrow sipped on her milkshake as if her dream wasn’t completely insane. She knew it was; she knew that all of her dreams were nightmares, and that they were extremely bizarre.
Sammi only sipped on her milkshake, as well. “Well, maybe it symbolizes your fear of leaving.” She suggested with a shrug, her voice gentle and genuinely interested. Sparrow was crazy about her for that reason; she genuinely wanted to be a companion to Sparrow as opposed to a burden.
“And Nicole randomly showing up?” Sparrow cocked her eyebrow. Sammi laughed lightly.
“That’s just a sign that you KNOW that she would follow.”

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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby Leond » Thu Jun 10, 2010 7:43 am

As I entered the plane, I went over the new information I had settled on once again. My name was Richard Smith Bates, son of Ellen and Joseph. Not unusual enough to be noticed, not common enough to be suspicious. I came from Chicago and I was going to Kansas because I was tired of the big city. Innocent and probably rather infrequent. Also it meant I wouldn't have to produce friends or relatives. I used to run a small clothing shop in Chicago which was just successful enough to get me the money to come here and tide me over until I found a job. Same logic as before. And there was no particular reason I couldn't use my own birthdate and general interests. They wouldn't help to identify me at all. I also had to remember not to volunteer any of this information unless specifically asked, which was a very dangerous temptation. As long as I didn't fumble any of this or do anything stupid, I couldn't think of any reason the Syndicate would be able to track me here.
I sat down in the first seat I found and looked to my left to see who I was sitting next to. I gasped, and my face turned entirely white. It was Jimmy Arthur, the assassin who not two days ago had tried to kill me! He turned to me, and his face turned exactly the same color as mine. We stared at each other in silence for nearly a minute.
"I have a knife," I lied, panicked. "I managed to smuggle it past security... somehow. So don't come any closer."
Suddenly, he laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not here to kill you," he said.
"Of course you are! You're a professional assassin with a contract on my head!"
He shook his head. "No. I was a professional assassin with a contract on your head. Since I failed, the Syndicate decided I was a liability, so I decided to go to Kansas. My name is Glen Tuckel now. I'm a bank manager from New York coming here to get out of the big city."
"Yes. You?"
"Richard Smith Jones. Owner of a clothing store. Same reason for going to Kansas."
"Nice to meet you again." He paused. "Sorry for trying to kill you under my last alias. That's going to make this flight awkward."
"Not at all," I said, somehow realizing that he was being honest. "Think nothing of it."
"You're sure?"
"Water under the bridge. Speaking of, do you like fishing?"
"I detest it!" he said, excitedly. "But it sounds like a great humanizing detail for my new identity."
And that's the true story of how the Tuckel and Bates Tackle and Bait Shop in Kansas first started. Ask tomorrow for the false one.


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