Some Things About Me

Story Thing Assignment Thing

Ok, so in library me and my friend Elizabeth were assigned to make a story but we had to take turns with the parts. One person would right the beginning and the end and the rest of the people would take turns writing. However, we thought it was unfair since we were a 2 man group so we took turns with each part (I did get the beginning and the end) and we even worked some parts together.

This story is about The Doors, for those of you unaware it's a rock group. Me and Elizabeth decided to go with a classic rock theme because then we wouldn't be arguing about what the topic is. Then she came up with a horror theme like a ghost story, and I was actually thinking that as well.

So this is the final product before we have to turn it in on Monday.

June, 1975

His heavy shallow breathing smothered the quietness as he looked upon his friend, saliva dripping onto the body of...suddenly, two girls popped up. "Hold it hold it!" The tall one interrupted. "We're getting a bit ahead of ourselves," The one with the watch announced. "Let's rewind a bit. We wouldn't spoil a story before it even started! Now, you may continue." They then vanished, except the watch. The watch girl came back and picked it up, putting it back on her wrist. "Guess it's time to get back to the story!" A distant groan of the tall girl was heard and she vanished again.

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We all were piled into the small car we had rented to drive to our show in New Haven, Connecticut. I had a bad feeling deep in my gut but I ignored it. I looked at the already irritated Jim Morrison. ¨Hey, Jim! How much longer are we gonna be like sardines in this tiny car?¨ ¨WE WILL GET THERE WHEN WE GET THERE JOHN!! QUIT ASKING!!! YOU'RE WORSE THAN A TODDLER!" yelled Jim as he gripped the steering wheel; his knuckles turning white like snow. Everyone scooted back in their seats and went back to what they were doing before Jim's outburst. Before I go any further, let me introduce you to my friends. There's Jim Morrison, our rambunctious lead singer/butt wipe driver that you just met, Robby Kregier, our reserved guitarist, Ray Manzarek is our multitasker organist and bassist, and there's John, the drummer, aka me. Together, we make The Doors, a small band from L.A . 3 hours of awkward silence we arrived at a motel. It was now dark out, 8 pm to be exact, and we need directions to the hotel we're staying at. "Robby, you had the map where's the hotel?" Ray asked the guitarist. ¨In the glove compartment right beside car instructions¨ Jim, who was still in the car, looked inside but the map wasn't there. "What the crap Robby?! It ain't in here!" Ray rubbed the bridge of his nose and pushed his glasses up. "Alright, let's try to find someone and get directions." Suddenly, I felt something, as if I went down a steep hill and got that feeling in my stomach. The rest of the members didn't seem to notice the awful chill and dark energy in the air. Time was going fast and slow at the same time. I saw a flash of color and a horrible face pass by me and flew behind the old trashy motel with peeling paint and jigsaw like roof. I ran to follow it as the others argue about who lost the map. There was a rustle in the bushes. I went to check it out and out of nowhere I felt like I wasn't in control of my own body. The world started spinning and everything went black.

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"Robby, get over here NOW!!!" I ran over to Jim, who looked to be out of breath and worried. Ray was looking at John, who was on the ground. "Woah woah woah! What happened?!" Then I noticed a purple and blue bruise on his forehead. 'He must have fallen,' I thought. "Robby, you know him best, what do you think happened?" Jim ran his fingers through his short and curly brown hair and Ray adjusted his glasses as I explained that he had to fall due to the bruise. A groan caught us all off guard, we all looked to see John slowly regaining consciousness. We all breathed a huge sigh of relief, I then got down to his level. "Hey John, you ok mate?" He groaned more and looked at us with big dark brown eyes. "W-What happened?'' He looked at all of us either dazed and confused or completely out of it. "We assume you fell, smacked yourself pretty good," Jim told him. "John, do you remember anything that happened?" He shook his head no. Jim wasn't buying it. "John Paul Densmore, do NOT li-" John stood up abruptly and raised his voice, something we never would expect from our quietest member. "I wouldn't lie to you now would I?!" Taken aback by this, Jim's guard lowered like prey that thought it lost its predator. A deep and long groan turned our attention to Ray, who was about as thrilled as anyone could be. "Crap crap crap crap SHOOT!!!" "Ray, what's up?" I looked at the tires, solid 5 inch slash in the tires. "Good news is John's alright." I sigh deeply. "Bad news is someone slashed our tires. Looks like we're staying here for the night." Jim mumbled a curse of some sort and John breathed out a long sigh. A solid 10 minutes and some arguing between Jim and John later we're in a room decorated with cobwebs and dust. "Jesus, has this place been used since World War 2?!" Jim flopped onto the bed, I sat on the floor, Ray sat in a chair, and John leaned against a dusty mahogany table. "We got about 10 ish hours until our gig. Get comfy and don't start any fights, not pointing any fiiingerrrs." Ray side-eyed Jim and John. Jim took off his leather jacket and stood up. "I'm gonna try to find anything useful in the car. See y'all later." He stood up and walked out the door, not waving at us like he usually does. Something's up with those two, Jim and John, but what exactly is it?