Well, since you guys rez'd this thead, here's a thing I did for uni last year. We had to find a picture of somebody we didn't know, and write a story about them. I picked this guy:
The last few muddy drips of loosely called “water” trickled into the drain as Chester stood behind the tissue-thin shower curtain. Crumbs surrounded his feet from the biscuit he was gorging on. This was a concern for him, because the shower was where you went to get clean. How could you properly clean yourself in an unclean environment? Of course, he usually would have been much more careful, but his attention was elsewhere. Rifle at the ready in his other hand, Chester stared intently around the room. It was sparse, even for a bathroom. There was a wash basin immaculate enough to use in surgical procedures, a drug cabinet filled with alphabetised anti-stress pills (each bottle containing exactly ten pills) and a towel rack with no towels.
Concluding that the bathroom was secure, for the time being, Chester pushed the shower curtain back. Finished with the cookie, he gripped the rifle with both hands now. As he moved through the room, his eyes fell on the drug cabinet. The doctors had told him that he needed the pills to calm down. They clouded his mind from the truths of this world, and left him defenceless. The pills had remained untouched for a month. Reaching the door, Chester braced himself. After counting to three, he kicked the door open, and snapped his head violently around the main room of the apartment.
It was a lifeless room that at first glance seemed like an overlooked crime-scene. There were no photos. A pile of newspapers dating back three years dominated one corner and in another was a broken black-and-white television. After poking through the newspapers with the tip of his rifle, Chester slowly stepped over some open books on the floor toward the centre of the room. There was a strange construction that seemed like the kind of thing you needed an aluminium foil helmet to understand. He scoffed at the thought. Aluminium hats actually increased the likelihood that your mind would be susceptible to radio-waves. Clearly the government had been behind that ridiculous assertion.
The construction was a complex series of mirrors and boxes that let him look out the sole window in the apartment without anybody being able to look back. The street below was basically empty. It was the middle of the day, so most people were at school, or work. Standing sentry twelve stories above the city, Chester almost felt safe. It wouldn’t be entirely safe until he moved underground, nut for now, he was content.
“Chester.” He heard a voice behind him. “Rodney!” He exclaimed, clearly elated. Chester didn’t really know who (or what) Rodney was. He’d just been at home one day and had heard a voice introduce itself as Rodney. The first thing that it said was not to turn around; he’d never actually seen what it looked like. It said that if he turned around, it would leave, and never come back. Chester didn’t want that. “Why haven’t you been taking your pills, Chester?” He was still watching the streets through his mirror contraption. “Lonely.” He said quietly, almost to himself. There was a woman walking down the street now, with a dog.”I know you like having me around Chester, but you should be taking you pills, even if it makes me go away. What did the doctors tell you?” He was still watching the woman and her dog walk down the street. They seemed so pop flyin' together. At the mention of the doctors, Chester furrowed his brow. “Dangerous.” He muttered under his breath. “That’s right, Chester.” Rodney’s voice never had a clear direction. It always seemed to be coming from everywhere. “They said that if you got too stressed out, you could start hallucinating, and maybe have a heart attack.” He had an oily, soothing voice. Chester always felt better when Rodney was around.
“Rodney.” He started. The rifle was starting to get incredibly heavy. “Yes Chester?” Replied the omnipresent voice. “Why?” The woman and her dog and left the street below, and Chester looked away from his mirrors, staring at the wall. “Why what, Chester? I don’t understand.” He looked concerned for a moment, and then slightly annoyed. “Exist.” He said this with a trace of ire in his voice, as if he resented the fact. “Well, that’s question number one, isn’t it chap?” Rodney’s voice became softer, as if it was more distant than before. “Why?” Chester repeated, almost hostilely. “You know, friend, I’m not entirely sure.” Now the voice was closer, and clearer. “You don’t have any family any more, you got fired from your job at the office after that quite unfortunate business with the bomb scare, and I’m your only friend left.” Beads of sweat were starting to form on Chester’s forehead. The room was getting stuffy. “Government.” He said, less of a statement and more of a question. “Now Chester, I think we both know that your ideas about the Government are a little silly.” It almost sounded patronising. “Why would the Government care about your thoughts and actions? I mean, look at what they’ve done to your apartment, much less your life.”
Chester’s grip on the rifle got harder. “Change?” He asked, hesitantly. “Oh Chester, I wouldn’t think too much about that.” Now the voice sounded much more serious. “Have you thought about how things are going to change for you? Soon enough, you aren’t going to be able to pay your rent, and then you’re going to be homeless Chester; out on the streets. That doesn’t sound like much fun, does it champ?” Rodney was speaking like you’d speak to a child. “Cold.” Chester whispered mournfully, finally letting go of his rifle so that he could cross his arms, thinking about the cold. “That’s right Chester, it would be very cold. You’d probably run out of food, too, and I doubt you’d be able to pay the nice doctors for more pills.” Chester stood in front of the window. He hadn’t been outside in the longest time.
“It’s a little cramped in here, isn’t it pal? Why don’t you open the window and let some fresh air in?” He pried the window open for the first time that he could remember. Air rushed in through the apartment, expelling the collective scent of paranoia. The streets looked inviting from the window. “Rodney.” He sounded pleading. “Yes Chester? It’s mighty high up here, isn’t it?” Chester winced, still staring below. “Tired.” He sighed, clearly meaning it. “You know, I’m pretty tired too Chester.” He stood in silence, the wind clearing his mind. Rodney spoke again. “I think I’ve got a solution for all of our problems, Chester. You won’t have to worry about pills, the Government, cleaning the wash basin, or me leaving. It’ll all go away.” Chester almost turned around in glee, but he wanted to hear Rodney’s answer. “Please!” He begged, desperate for any help he could get. The voice sounded incredibly close, as if it were whispering right into his ears. “One little step, old friend. Just one little step forwards.” Chester looked scared. “Heights.” He told the voice. “Trust me, Rodney. One little step out of that window, and all of our problems will just melt away. Would I lie to you?” He shook his head furiously. “Friend.” He spoke to the air rushing through the window. “That’s right Chester. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t want to hurt you. Now, just step over that window, and it’ll all be over.” Rodney’s voice was overly cheery. Chester didn’t care anymore. He was tired, so daisies tired. Climbing over the window, he stared at the street below. It looked like it was smiling at him, beckoning him forward. Chester took that one little step out into the void, and hoped that wherever he was going, Rodney was coming with him.
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