Meet my Friend, Pain

Now it’s the weekend, and I’ve recovered somewhat from chaos of the world and the steep learning curve of the week, I’m back to developing my writing. Tim Waggoner remains my guide through Writing in the Dark. I’m currently working on the exercises in a chapter on pain, and I thought I’d share the results. These first four are first drafts. I had to focus on a different type of pain for each. The last part combines all of those elements. I came up with a bit of a clichéd scenario. In seeking an audience with God, the protagonist has opened a door to another worldthrough which malevolent and destructive creatures have emerged. Our injured protagonist is the only one who can close the door, but this world-saving event will lead to his destruction.

As I said, these are first drafts, and wider implications of plot have not been considered. That’s why he’s looking over the city, as if from somewhere elevated, like a clifftop or mountain, and the city itself is Ely, which is in the flattest part of the U.K… That’s the kind of simple thing I’d fix if this was to be developed into a whole story. I probably would have Wayne and Clara as my named characters either…

Emotional Pain:
Wayne looked upon the destruction below with a sickness swirling in his stomach. All of this, the smashed buildings, the flaming cars, the many-clawed death that ransacked the city was all his fault. He remembered his enthusiasm when he had flicked the switch that had opened the portal. All of his hope than had transformed into bitter regret, regret that had smacked him in the face the instant the first of those creatures hurled itself through the portal, knocking him to the ground, trampling on his body, and leaving him for dead en route to carry out their awful destruction. Part of him wished they had destroyed him too, it would be the least he deserved, but as he still lived, he knew there was a chance to send them back. Yes it would have a cost, but it was one that he was willing to pay.

Physical Pain:
Wayne pushed the fallen console from his body and struggled to his feet, pain raging through his body. When the creatures had come through the portal, the portal he’d opened, the first of them had slung him to the wall and then walked right over him, heavy hooves landing on his legs, his gut, his shoulder. Wayne’s left arm refused to move, flaming agony that suggested his collar bone was broken. Worse was the pain in his head. He touched the wound with his right hand and winced as he felt wetness. At least it wasn’t pouring out, but it felt like a volcano had erupted from his skull and lava oozed through the cut.

Mental Pain:
Wayne looked beyond the destruction of the city to where, if not for the smoke that billowed from countless building, he’d be able to see his home. He only had to hope that the hideous creatures, the creatures he’d unleashed on the world had yet to reach his home, that Clara had received his message and barricaded the door and locked herself in the cellar. Perhaps what hurt most, other than the incredibly weight of responsibility that suffocated him, was that he’d never know for sure if she made it. When he sacrificed himself in order the close the portal, the portal that could only be closed from the other side if it were to send the creatures back, all he’s have was the wish that she was okay and the agony of knowing he’d never again look upon her sweet smile.

Spiritual Pain:
Wayne gazed down at the destruction below. The creatures had destroyed St. Mary’s Church, and it would only be a matter of time before the ancient medieval walls of Ely Cathedral crumbled under their assault too. But what did it matter? What did any of these centres of worship matter in the face of the awful truth? The portal, the result of his life’s work as an ecclesiastical scientist was supposed to bring him in contact with God, but when those hideous ungodly creatures burst through with all of the destructive power of a biblical plague it proved to him that which he’d feared in a lifetime of battling with science and religion: his life had been wasted, for there was no God.  

A combined effort with the weight of all pain:
Pain raged through every part of Wayne’s body. He could feel the points of impact, when the creatures’ hooves had trampled his body as if each one was on fire. And burned in his memory were the eyes of that first creature, eyes that not only revealed a desperate hunger for destruction but that also confirmed the cruel knowledge that Wayne had feared throughout his whole career as an ecclesiastical scientist. When he flicked that switched and opened that portal, he was supposed to find himself face-to-face with God. Instead, he came face-to-face with those hideous creatures which confirmed that life-long fear: there was no God.

He shifted, feeling debris falling from his body. Pain exploded in his shoulder. He could only use his right hand to force the fallen console from him and pull himself to his feet using the edge of the table. The burning pain in his shoulder suggested a break, perhaps the collar bone, but worse was his head. He reached his right arm around to the back of his head and winced as he felt wetness. At least it wasn’t pouring out, but it felt like a volcano had erupted from his skull and lava oozed through the cut.

After taking a moment to draw in a breath, and it felt like he was breathing in pins, he stumbled to the cracked window. The town below was in ruins. He didn’t know how long he’s been out for, how swift the destruction had been St. Mary’s church had already been reduced to ruins and Ely Cathedral had lost one tower. What use were these buildings now anyway?

For every ruined building, every smoking vehicle, every lost life below, Wayne felt a terrible, crushing weight. This was on him. He thought he’d be heralded as a saint, responsible for bring in a new world of spirituality. Now he’d be a pariah, an angel of death. He looked beyond the city towards the suburbs. Smoke clouds blocked the view, but he knew in which direction his own home was. He had to hope the destruction had yet to reach Clara, that some kind of warning had got out before it was too late and she’d barricaded herself in the house. He’d never know for sure, for in order to close the portal he would have to travel through to the other side. Only them could he remove the menace he’d unleashed from the world. If only there was a way he could know for sure if he’d be leaving a world behind in which Clara remained, in which Clara lived and came to love again…

Summary:
It was an interesting and revelatory experiment. I think writers (particularly in horror) can me guilty of focusing on the physical pain, so to think about those other types was worthwhile. To me, it seems like it’s a great way of devloping that character further, making them seem much more human rather than just becoming a meat sack to hack and slash at.