New Name, New Identity - 6/8

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jftjader
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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby jftjader » Sun Sep 26, 2010 11:22 am

John started the beat up Jeep Comanche that he bought the night before when he got off the ferry. He lit the first cigarette of the day, and as he exhaled, a haze of smoke mixed with the steam from his breath and clouded the cab. It was a bitter cold 20 degrees, and it made him smile…something he hadn’t done for some time. He pressed the clutch, shifted into first and began his journey north.
John had left his old life behind. He bought a one way ticket to Bellingham, Washington, along with a ferry ticket to Seward, AK. His plan was to start over; new name, new town, new life. He’d always dreamed of living in Alaska, ever since he read about it in Field and Stream as a young child. His plan was to drive north, settle in the first town that felt right and try and hide the pain of his old life behind his eyes.
As he drove through downtown Seward, the Chugiak Mountains towered around him. He was amazed at the beauty of this place. Resurrection Bay rested beneath the mountains, providing a scene John had only dreamed of in his past life. He watched as an eagle circled high above the bay, no doubt searching for prey in the water below.
The tires of Johns truck crunched over the snow covered road as he continued North through town. He nearly drove off the road when he saw a young moose on the sidewalk. He smiled again, and thought to himself,” I might not be driving as far North as I thought. “
He saw a coffee shop at the edge of town and pulled into the parking lot. When he walked in, the warm air fogged his glasses and he removed them from his face. When he replaced them on the bridge of his nose, his eyes were delighted to see a beautiful brunette behind the counter. “Good morning”, she said with a smile. “It sure is” John replied, giving her the best smile he could muster, his third for the day. She took Johns order and he stood behind the counter as she worked on his Americano. There was a large window behind her and he could see out onto the bay. A small float plane came into view as it glided above the bay momentarily before gently touching down on the smooth surface of the water. “Sure is amazing up here” John said to the brunette behind the counter. She looked up from the espresso machine and followed johns gaze outside the window. “Yes it is” she said, smiling. “I showed up here 2 years ago looking to start over and haven’t ever looked back”. “You new to town?” she asked. “You could say that”, he replied. She handed him his Americano with her left hand. When John noticed that there was no ring on it, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He took his drink and met her eyes. She smiled and said “I’m Annie” and offered him her other hand. He took it in his, smiled, and said “nice to meet you Annie ...I’m Jim”

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avalanche_of_elysium
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RE: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby avalanche_of_elysium » Thu Oct 21, 2010 3:49 pm

I had always wanted to be named Artemisia. Unfortuntately, my mother hadn't listened to me while I was a babe in womb, and I ended up with Patricia. WHY PATRICIA?
Anyway, since today was my eighteenth birthday and I have all the freedom in the world, it is buh-bye Patricia, 3.5 GPA, brunette, black eyed, Detroit born and bred, and time for a new persona. I am now Artemisia Ravenwood (cool, huh?), a sleek chick from Los Angelos with shiny black hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a pet chihuahua named Tequila!
Oh, yeah baby!
Well, I drove up to New York City (because that's where everyone goes for a new beginning) in my cheap Honda Civic. I was getting hungry so I pulled into a posh bar with my fake ID's in tow and Tequila in a purse. I strutted into the smoky bar, and suddenly all eyes were on me. I smirked and enjoyed the attention (good ol' Patricia wouldn't have been able to get this reaction!). I sat down on a tall bar stool, flipped my newly dyed black hair, and ordered a martini. I was sipping it genteely when a girl sat down next to me, and peered at me strangely.
The girl couldn't have been older then seventeen, as she ordered a tall glass of milk.
I snickered.
She glared at me and then asked, out of nowhere, "What's your name?"
I proudly said, "Artemisia. And you?"
"Lene." Without missing a beat, she responded, "I know you."
"Do you?"
"Yes. You're Patricia, aren't you?"
Gulping, I said, "No... I'm Artemisia."
Rolling her eyeballs, Lene said, "No, you're Patricia, because you're my second cousin, three times removed, and we met at a family reunion in Detroit."
"I'm from Los Angelos!"
"No. You're from Detroit."
"Los Angelos!"
"Detroit!"
"Los Angelos!"
"De-"
The bouncer appeared, grabbed each of us under the arms, and escorted us out, "Take it outside, ladies."
And that's how my first day as Artemisia Ravenwood began. Running into a distant relative, and getting kicked out a bar.
Bugger.

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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby TexTom » Sun Oct 31, 2010 8:33 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.

And so on down the deserted highway I drove. Won’t be able to push this old Chevy much farther. Already there’s a faint whisper of stream coming up from the engine. Should have fixed that radiator before I decided to split. Well, there wasn’t enough time and sometimes when you got to go, you got to go. And it was definitely time to go.
So here’s a quaint little town. Sign says “St. Cloud – pop. 675.” Sounds like a good place to hang out for a while. They wouldn’t think of looking for me here. Hey, maybe the saints will be with me. That’s what Grandpa Pete used to say. Course he wasn’t my real grandpa. Over the tracks and through the intersection that served as downtown. Four-way yellow caution light was the only sign of activity anywhere. Looked like the only horse in this town had died quite some time ago.
My gut had told me it was time for dinner about four towns ago, so I pulled into the first eatery I saw. “Mabel’s Diner. “ Yeah, be sure and wipe off the spoon before you use it. I parked in a cloud of steam and walked into the diner. The little bell tinkled when I opened the door. I sat town out the counter and looked around. One other older couple in the back in a booth. I turned back around and picked up a menu from the salt/pepper/ketchup/mustard caddy on the counter just as the waitress came in from the kitchen. She walked over and asked “Hey, there. Coffee?”
“Is it any good?”
“Well, it probably was about 6 1/2 hours ago. I can make some fresh if you want to wait.”
“Honey, I ain’t in no hurry, go ahead. Well, I wouldda guessed that you were Mabel except your nametag says Amy. You look more like an Amy anyway.” She was the prettiest site I’d seen all day. Definitely a small town girl. And no wedding ring. Might be another good reason the hang around for a while. Maybe the saints were going to be with me for a change.
“Thanks, cause Mabel’s been dead about 8 years now. Actually, that’s when they buried her, I think see was dead long before that,” she said as she emptied the coffee pot and refilled the coffee urn.
“Don’t look like there’s much of anything alive in the town.”
“Yeah it gets that way on Friday nights sometime. Most of the town’s in Andersonville at the High School game. Their Homecoming. Okay, coffee’s set up. What else can I get you?”
“Meatloaf looks good. Is it?”
“Well it’s made. Cook’s at the football game. I drew the short straw so I got stuck here. So you get what’s already made. Meatloaf’s one of them.”
“Okay, what else is made?”
“Salmon croquettes and chicken and dumplings.”
“Well then meatloaf it is.”
“Comin’ right up. You just passin’ through.”
“Well, no. Actually I’m looking for a job. Anyone hiring around here?”
“Yeah, I need a dishwasher. Toby broke his arm messing around with his little brother’s skateboard like a gobberhead. Hard to wash dishes with you arm in a cast. That’s what I was doin’ when you came in. Oh, and I got some homemade peach cobbler for desert.”
“okay, sure I ain’t afraid of soap and hot water.”
“Well you can start as soon as you’re finished. And your dinner’s on the house, okay.”
“Say, how many dishes you got dirty?”
“Well,” she said glancing at the clock above the juke box, “We close in 3 hours and 20 minutes. You should be done by then.”

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RE: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby Sindz » Mon Nov 01, 2010 8:46 pm

“Pop tarts? Eggs - sunny side up? Managers special”

I frowned and stared at the menu again – all I wanted was a coffee, black, no sugar but the waitress looked at me so sadly I felt compelled to give her a little more to work with.

“Okay...” I checked her name badge, “Shelley. I will have the pancakes, extra syrup and a cup of coffee” I smiled at her encouragingly…go away now I mentally urged her.

“Sure thing hon” her eyes briefly scanned me again and I held my breath for a second until she tucked her writing pad in her apron and walked off.

Damn, day 1 and I’m already feeling like a fugitive. I slouched down in the booth, running through my list again.

My name is Alex. I’m a web designer and …shoot why was I in this one stop town again?

I’m on a road trip collecting data about the smaller towns for a website. What a stupid nerdy thing cover job but at least it got the vague nod of understanding and people didn’t look at me so strangely when I snapped photos of buildings and dirt smudges ever so often…actually they still looked at me weirdly but explained it away as something “city” folk did. I was just trying to stay in character.

Of course I wouldn’t be in this position had I not stumbled in on my boss in what could only be described as scene from a really bad porno…only ten times worse than that and once you swopped the busty blonde for a balding 40 year old accountant, then you are almost at the burned eyeball level that I got to that night.

That traumatizing display of monkey love led me running out into the research and development offices where I discovered the usually staid and boring scientists performing experiments that were definitely not covered by company expenses.

I might have been forgiven at that stage to simply turn around really quietly and walk away except as I turned, I bumped into a hard mass of muscle that no man can achieve at the gym. I barely got a chance to curse at the unfairness before the muscle mass slammed into me.

Fast forward past the very embarrassing fight scene…although technically I can’t call it a fight as I was mostly whimpering in a corner and I might have let out a couple girlish screams at one point. Even the scientists got bored at that stage.

The thug grew tired of using me as a basketball and left to get some refreshments. Beating people to a pulp makes him thirsty. I got up, (okay I crawled) snatched a couple of the vials off the table before running (limping) out the door as fast my feet could take me.

Blackmailing a multi-billion company takes some planning so I figured I could hide out in poky little towns until:
1. I know what exactly the vials of pink stuff did
2. How much I could get for the little gems
That was proving to be more difficult than I anticipated because I didn’t have contacts with any shady people unless you call Uncle Tony one and that was only on Wednesdays.

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RE: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby smallPencil » Sat Nov 06, 2010 8:43 am

It hovered, hovering over me like conscience bordering reality. I knew I had to move, move fast. I thought about it for a long time. Eventually I grew bored; looked around my car in a vain attempt to reckon why I had been stopped here thinking, and what it was I had been thinking about. The light caught my eye. I looked up. My heart nearly jumped out of my chest, but was held in place by a lack of legs and the requisite muscle, bone, or neural structure to do so. Then I remembered. It was still there. Still hovering.

I suppose the plan to "move fast" had expired, so I set about a different course of action. Pulling out my smart phone and opening the voice memo app, I started, "Friday, March 8th, time: approximately 8 PM, my name is Eric..." I had momentarily forgotten my recent life alterations. I corrected, "... er, William Robert Thorton. I am postitioned on Rollerbrook Road, about half a mile east of interstate 85. An unidentified flying object is hovering maybe about..." I paused to estimate the distance. The thing was... blurry, somehow. As though viewed through pool eyes.From a distance it appeared as independent an object as any, but upon closer examination it was difficult to tell where it ended and the night sky began. Finally, I took a guess, “…about 50 yards above my vehicle. It is very bright. Hard to tell for sure what the shape of the craft itself might be, with all the light. What I can see is roughly spherical in shape. It is pure white at the center. There the light is much denser, it seems to taper or fade away around the edges. What appear to be tendrils of electricity, perhaps static electricity, emanate from the white core. They are multihued, look to be of every color in the rainbow. They seem to be… interacting somehow with the air around the thing. The thing is definitely taking up more space than it did when I first got here, Though it appears to have grown, it does not feel that way. It feels as if it is… consuming the night around it, somehow. It is a dizzying feeling. I am nearly overcome by vertigo. It feels like the UFO is the bottom of a pit with the sides sloped at a near-vertical slant, and everything around it is tumbling down, including me. I am going to get out of the vehicle now. See if I can’t shake this feeling off, and get a better look at this thing. In case I don’t make it, and this recording does, then, once again, I am William Robert Thorton, and this is THE FIRST ENCOUNTER.”

The light was mere inches beyond my outstretched fingers. The feeling of vertigo was gone, replaced by a feeling like I was a broken damn, impeding but not halting the transfer of something. What it was I could not be sure. The air around me? This field? The night itself? The only thing I knew for sure was that whatever was flowing, it was going from here and into that thing. I realized suddenly that I did not remember actually getting out of my car; or approaching the thing, reaching out to it. I didn't care. All I cared about now was my desire to touch it. I desperately wanted to cease being the damn.

“Mother ****er!” The voice was loud and angry, startling enough to again halt the advance of my fingers. Come to think of it, it should have elicited more of a reaction than that. As I stood in the middle of nowhere, thinking myself alone with this thing, a voice from the darkness. The thought helped me realize just how much pull this thing had on me. Now that I was thinking about it, I could identify the pull. It felt like everything else was melting away, like this thing was the new real. Like I had to be there, to be part of what was real. “Yeah! That’s the pull.” The voice startled me again. Had I been speaking aloud? “Damn, do I gotta put a ‘don’t touch’ sign up on this thing for you idiot locals?” The familiar words and vernacular calmed me down, made me feel grounded again. I couldn’t fathom what a man would be doing in this scenario, but I was glad he was here. “I got samples to collect and a mother****in deadline to keep and you sure as **** ain’t helping any.”

Happily I turned to offer up my apologies, then I froze. What stood there was anything but a man.

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RE: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby Shakspeare » Sat Nov 13, 2010 2:21 am

Some people say that running away won't solve your problems. Well, those people have probably never run away before. Running away was the best thing that I ever did. My parents were abusive to me for many years.

I think it started when my little brother, Timmy, passed away in a terrible accident that was my fault. We were playing up in the attic which has a porthole type window. It got awfully hot up there in the summer so we would open the window, and play Cops and Robbers. I always had to play the robber, because he said girls couldn't be cops. So that's what we would play. One day, we were really getting into it. He said, "Look here Lindsey. You need to return that money from the bank that you stole!" I said, "No way!", and shoved him off of me. He went toppling backwards and fell out of the window. The doctors said he died upon impact.

My parents always blamed me for it, but I always tried to tell them that it was an accident. My friends always wondered why I wore long sleeves to the beach, and why I broke my arm several times. I tried hard to cover up the bruises that my dad left because I didn't want him to get into trouble. I knew he was just grieving over the death of a son. My mother didn't leave bruises on the outside, but she banged me up pretty bad on the inside. She was very critical of how I looked. When I grew my hair out, she said I looked like hippie that would never amount to anything. She told me how ugly I was, and how no boy would ever want to marry me, so I would be stuck to live with them forever.

I never could have any friends over, or have any birthday parties. I never got to be in any clubs or after-school activities. The only true friend I had was Emma. She always could sense something was wrong, but I always shrugged her off. I made up reasons why she couldn't come to my house, and why I couldn't go to hers. It was very hard keeping those things from her, but I knew it was for the best. That was, until my dad almost killed me.

It was on the anniversary of Timmy's death. My father became very, very angry and grabbed a baseball bat. As I was trying to crawl away, I got a blow to the head.The next thing I knew, I was in a hostpital bed. I told the doctor that me and my dad had been playing baseball, and he swung and didn't know I was behind him. Once we got home, I had had enough. I crept away in the night and walked until I came upon the small town of Arapahoe, South Carolina. There, no one could hurt me anymore. I made my own living, bought my own house and had a good time. I made many friends, including a nice boy. I told him about my past on our first date. He understood, and now we are inseparable. My parents never tried to look for my and I'm very happy they didn't.

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RE: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby carolannradle » Fri Feb 04, 2011 9:51 am

A rental car. I hadn’t thought about it before I arrived in the city that I would soon call home, but I now realized that I would be using my new identification card for the very first time. The photo was mine, the date of birth was true, but all of the rest was fiction. Except for organ donor. I will always be an organ donor. It was one of the few things I was hanging onto as I began a new life in a new place far from friends and family. The life I left behind was not worth the time of day. Maybe the second time is the charm.

She stood tall behind the counter and I admired her jet black hair. It was cut into a bob, but a longer, more modern take on that 1920s classic style. I wished I had chosen that hair style a few days ago. It will take a few months before mine grows out. A dye job shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s the start to a holiday weekend and I had been third in line. Anxious, I stepped forward to take my turn, trying to recall the arrangements made by the customers before me. I wanted to sound as if I knew what I was doing. “We have only three cars available, but you’re in luck. You get to choose the size. Full-size, mid-size, or compact? I’ll need your license, please.” She looked up at me with eyes darker than her jet black hair and I wondered if everyone here looked the same as she. Had I arrived at the land of beautiful people? I’m going to stick out like a donkey in a flock of pink flamingos. “I’ll take the compact car and the insurance, please. I will return the car in seven days with a full tank of gas.” Less than a minute of pressing computer keys passed and the rented car was mine. “Initial here, here, and here. Sign here.” I handed the three-part form back to her and she returned the pink copy to me. She raised her finger and said, “I’ll be right back.” I put my license back into my wallet and folded up my copy of the rental agreement. I was placing it into my backpack when she returned with the keys, a map, and two business cards. “Here’s a map of the local area. You are here. And this highway here takes you to Hotel Row, in case you need one. Here’s my business card if you have any problems with the car. And here’s the card of the local beautician.” She winked and I thanked her. “It’s a scorcher out there, today,” she said. “Here, take this complimentary bottle of water.”

I turned and walked to the rental car with all of my worldly possessions: the few items I brought with me in my backpack, a map of the local area, and the memory of my first encounter.

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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby Bridget O' Brady » Mon Mar 28, 2011 4:15 pm

I left. It really wasn't like I had had to. I just got in my car and drove, drove, and drove. I finally reached this small Maine town,Clarence, it was named. I was under the name Gordon Brunswick, much more interesting than my real name Jack Holmes. I had been miserable back in the big city. Life moved to fast, to much crime, and to many people. I was a loner, an outcast, a nobody, that was Jack. Gordon was the star football player and went to high school in Brooklyn unlike Jack who went to school in the Bronx.
Jack rarely got into trouble, tried to fade away, blend in. Gordon had put his teacher's car on top the roof, a classic. Clarence was a small town about fifty miles off Maine's north coast. It had clear crisp air and clean beautiful streets. The best parts about Clarence were the public library and Gregor park, appropriately named after the founder of beautiful Clarence. I walked into Barb's Diner, it was a nice hometown diner with bar stools and a warm coffee pot.
I sat down on one of the stools.
"What can I get ya'?" the waitress who was named Sarah asked.
"Oh, I'll have some coffee and how about a nice salad," I replied awfully quiet. "Alright, comein' up," Sarah replied. "So where you come from?" Sarah asked. "New York City," I replied with a smile. "The Bronx."

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Re: New Name, New Identity - 6/8

Postby Pearl96 » Tue Mar 29, 2011 10:35 pm

This was going to be great. I was new, I was improved and I was… standing in a puddle of dirty gutter water. Shrieking in repulsion, I flung myself onto the sidewalk, simultaneously trying to shake the water off my new – and first ever pair of – high-heels, not ruin my new one hundred dollar haircut, and not fall over.

I accomplished none: finding myself on the ground with a bruised bum – and pride – fly-away hair and wet shoes. Valiantly fighting the urge to cry, I stumbled to my feet and brushed the grime of city streets off my clothes. Smoothing down my hair, and ignoring my cold feet, I started down the street.

Not the best start to my life, but it was a start I could only go up from. With my newly blonde hair, blue contacts, push-up bra and techniques with make-up I was going to make something of myself.

No longer was I the dorky girl with glasses who sat in the back of the class doodling. No longer would I hear the shrill teasing of my fellow peers ringing in my ears. No longer would I wait for endless hours on the curb for my mother to pick me up from after school care.

No, now I was in charge of my life. Now I was using a name I had picked, wearing clothes I liked and doing something I wanted. The baggage of my past was behind me; to be crammed into a box and pushed into the back of my mind. To be forgotten until I had a mental breakdown at the age of fifty and spent the following years opening and sorting the box with my psychologist.

That was a good twenty-seven years away though, and I wasn’t planning on wasting any of them. Suddenly I found myself stumbling backwards, having bumped harshly into someone else walking along the side of the busy street.

“I am so sorry-”

“Margaret?”

I froze, every muscle tensing as my stomach rolled threateningly in my stomach. Slowly I raised my eyes to take in the handsomely stunning face of my biggest high school tormentor. Different hair, different eyes, different place, and still my ability to draw the biggest jerks in the vicinity wouldn’t let up.

Mentally calculating how long a trip it was by bus to the nearest city, I replied, “Daniel.”

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