The End is the story that started it all.
In the mid-2000s, my dear friend and occasional collaborator to the MetaStructure, Pogo came up with the idea of writing a short story as a group (this was back in the heyday of forums, when there were ten or so of us co-authors): a sort of giant exquisite corpse where anyone could write a paragraph to the story, building up from the previous content, without any consultation or direction agreed in advance.
Of course, it was very messy, went off in all directions, and was never completed.
However, the experiment possessed a euphoric energy that I’ve rarely seen matched during any other act of writing. While most of the co-writers went their separate ways (most of them must have forgotten about it), that story never really left Pogo and me. It was from this little “exercise in style” that The Count and Bond were born, and this “collaborative short story” was the source of “The End” and eventually all the rest of what you can read on this site today.
This is what The End is, a rewriting of that original text. Lots of changes were made, but a few parts remain almost untouched.
I don’t want to call it a novel because it’s not, even if the result may look like one.
So, for your eyes only, here is
The End
In the blog part of the site, texts are in reverse chronological order, and other texts are interspersed in between, so here is a list of what has already been published, in chronological order:
The End Chapter One - Part one It was the last day. The lecture hall was full. The students weren’t dying to say a final goodbye to their teacher. He hadn’t left them much choice. He had demanded a farewell gift in the form of a few sheets of scribbled paper. In a few minutes, their time was going to be up. They would soon be free for a few months. The quickest ones were already leaving. Three hours in, the large auditorium had acquired a subtle student smell. It was quite warm too — no air conditioning in these ...
The End Chapter one - Part two (
click here if you've missed the beginning) The phone rang. Good. I needed that to bring me back to the café and out of my memories. Marie wanted to know at what time she should expect me to be home. I told her that right away was a great idea. The girl appeared at the intersection with Rue de Mézières. Same smile. Same purple hair. I pretended not to notice her. A bit pitiful, I know. Who was I trying to fool? Myself? Not her, that’s for sure. “Mr. Bond?...” “I… I’m afraid ...
The End Chapter 1 - Part 3 “And here you are! A large coffee for my favorite French customer!” “Thanks a lot. You have a great day.” “Always. You too.” The young barista with purple ends to her hair winked at the man who winked back at her. It was time to get back on track. Quickly. Not easy with a... a glance at the date on the newspaper stand... April 8th, 2005... A four-month gap. Not to mention almost two decades' worth of memories that were now useless and would take too long to fade. Getting out of the ...
The End Chapter 1 – Part 4 (
click here to read from the beginning) Not my kind of place: too many vain people… Too much appearance and no substance... Too much money shown off. It was his kind of place even less. As he had decided to meet in Florida, why didn't he just go to Gainesville? I suspected that he wanted to make sure I'd be ready before he got here. Meeting me in Gainesville, he would run the risk of finding me still in my pajamas or hiding among the alligators. I sat at a table on the ...
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If you've missed the beginning of The End, start with this link) She opened her eyes, only to close them again. The daylight hurt. That’d teach her to fall asleep with the shutters open. The alarm clock read 10:23. How long was she going to last if she kept on like this? Less than five hours of sleep per night - well, morning. That was not sustainable. She sighed a little too emphatically, pushed back the bed sheets, and put her feet on the floor. She stood up, stretched again, and noticed that she wore her burgundy satin nightie. She ...
Ouch! Da fuck!? Talk about a hangover! What the fuck happened yesterday? I can't remember much of anything. Dancing flies? A sidecar in Manhattan? What the hell was that? Hey, brain, do you think this is a good time to do the riddle thing? The sun stings. Of course, the one time the fucker shows up between the clouds this month had to be this morning. A metro station entrance. I rush into it. My stomach doesn’t like the escalator’s motion. Not. At. All. I try to hold it, but nope. As I get to the platform, my stomach empties ...
The current authors would like to thank everyone who took part in this little experiment a long time ago. So, wherever most of you are (I’m still in touch with only two of them) a big thank you to Shaniah, Drago, Fred, Natha, Eltaris, Hengsen, Kibrit, Chiméric, Helkus, Myka, hoping we haven’t forgotten too many people.
