Fabricated: A Novel Experience

By Stephen Eiffler

Join Ryan Mathers, a hopeless romantic, in this uniquely woven tale about finding love...and green olives. (A corporate conspiracy involving mystical rocks may ensue!)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365054358

Book preview

Fabricated: A Novel Experience

Fabricated: A Novel Experience

by Stephen Eiffler

FABRICATED:A NOVEL EXPERIENCE

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead,  is purely coincidental. FABRICATED: A NOVEL EXPERIENCE and its characters are property of Stephen Eiffler with T-EC MEDIA LLC retaining certain rights. © 2016.

ISBN 978-1-365-05435-8

My greatest gratitude to the editors (any mistakes

herein are not their fault but mine)

Sharon Eiffler

For the last minute proofreading (and giving birth to

me- that probably helped the creation of this novella.)

Kelley Hinton

For streamlining and refining this novella.

Virginia Tuncel

For the editing, inspiration, and advice to make this 

novella the best it could be.

Jessica Kennedy

For giving this novella a final proofreading without

even my asking.

SPECIAL THANKS

To all my family and friends who have been supportive of my passions in one way or another and an extra special thanks to everyone who took the time to read my novella first. Also to Brandon J Rodak whose own accomplishments and drive were a constant propellant for me to publish my own book.

PROLOGUE: THE THREAD AND THE NEADLE

My life is a philosophical farce. Ryan said, riffling through a folder of papers as he sat in a love seat with one leg crossed over his knee. He sighed, straightening the papers and placing the folder gently on an end table. He ran his hands through his silky dirty-blond locks. Although in his late twenties and despite a strong jaw and a beard, it was easy to see the undeniably boyish features in his face.

Mable who sat next to him, looked up from her book, gazed at Ryan, and chuckled. Ryan turned toward her and smiled, eyeing her adoringly. Her hair was dyed auburn. Long ago she was blonde, but her hair had darkened enough she was often confused with a brunette, not that anyone would know this considering how often she dyed her hair.

Getting inside your own head again? Mable asked, with a slight smile on her lips. She was lost in Ryan's baby blues. Have I told you that you have such pretty eyes?

Ryan blushed, attempting to hide a grin. Yeah. he said. Mable smiled her luminescent smile. Ryan looked into her eyes, which were also baby blue. He couldn't help but think of all the crazy shit she'd been through in her short life, and how her eyes were a guise, instead of an indicator of it all. Mable had studied paleontology in college for a while, then journalism, then nursing, ultimately coming out with a degree in photography. Somehow, she was an expert in all of these professions. Ryan on the other hand majored in creative writing with minors in both film and philosophy. He has yet to understand either of these professions.

Remember when we were young and I paid you $15 for the rights to your life story?

Mable guffawed. I do remember that!

I was thinking, maybe I'd finally write that script about you. It could be several movies or a TV series. Whatever it is, it would have to be a franchise. Ryan precipitated.

Or, you could write about your life. I think that would be more interesting.

Ryan chuckled. That means a lot coming from you. I'm too introspective for a movie character. Plus, my life is too tonally inconsistent for a movie.  It would consist of internal monologues about existentialism or nihilism one moment, then be farcically plot driven the next. I mean, it would go from high art expressionistic cinematography to a very stagey mis-en-scene with bum fuck actors calling Pikachu a Ritalin induced thunder-cunt.

Mable burst out laughing, causing her book to fall on the floor. Who cares? Fuck genre and tone! It is your life, right? Write what you want to write! Or hell, maybe you could just write a book instead. Let the readers figure it out.  Mable leaned over and picked up her book. She looked at Ryan and he looked back at her with a small smirk. He shrugged, then picked up the folder off of an end table, and began to rifle through his papers once again....

THREAD ONE:TRIALS, TRIBULATIONS, AND OTHER ASSORTED RECOLLECTIONS

CHAPTER 1

PIVOTAL MOMENTS

I guess it began when he flung that goddamn dart at the great locust that stood so grandiose and inspiring in front of my home. Maybe flung is the wrong word, because the dart was shot out of a blowgun. Either way, it landed somewhere arbitrary and after a thorough search we drew the conclusion that we had no clue where it had gone. It sort of pissed him off, 'cause that was the only dart he hadn't lost yet. He said he needed it. I'm not exactly sure for what, but neither he nor I could shake a sense of foreboding that came to us with having lost it. It could've been the blistering heat, or the fact that, that year, all bets were off. Why? Because I, along with many of my good 'ol friends, had hit the inevitable crossroads faced at the dawn of adulthood.    

Despite a visage of contentedness and a calm aura, inside I was anxious. On an even deeper level of consciousness, I was terrified. I had just graduated high school a few days prior and I was back at the beginning- a new beginning albeit but a beginning none-the-less. I had to start the cycle all over with what felt like only a modicum of experience. The risks felt far greater at that point. Perhaps I was just being naive. I knew myself, though. I cloistered myself and lost myself in my own mind- which is dangerous enough when you're not fraught with anxieties. I foresaw a period of frigid solitude, and I guess that scared the shit outta me the most. I also have to admit, amidst all the fear, I was excited. The opportunities felt limitless. It's as if I could be anywhere, doing anything, within the next few months. Nothing felt better than the inevitable elation that came with the twilight of this era of my life.

So what use did I make of my elation? Nothing really. Two weeks into a summer vacation and I had already fallen victim to the worn structures of an antiquated routine. As opposed to seizing the opportunity to do something new, My new sense of self eroded, and worst of all, I wasted the all that damned elation. I rested in the comfort and familiarity of the chair parked right in front of the family television set.

Corporations rise and fall! None are too big to fail! And when they do, let them! asserted a rather charismatic woman on the TV.

I smirked weakly, scanned past the lumbering entertainment center, and stared out our sliding glass door in a daze. I gazed out at the lush greenery of our backyard. I was so detached from the reality of the moment; the screen door was nothing more than a display for the spectacle of natural gorgeousness. Something stirred inside me in that moment.

This is reality.

My heart skipped a beat, so-to-speak.  I jumped out of the chair, ready to wander around the yard. The felicity at the thought of exploring the outdoors was quickly spoiled by my father telling me, no- commanding me to mow the front yard. I made my way through my house, out the front door, and stopped on the front stoop. I recall trying to remember everything that I had just seen on my way out: the worn brownish carpet, the pairs of shoes, the lone sock suggestively draped over a lighthouse figurine. It was as if my short journey out here was a dream. One becomes so familiar with their surroundings; the brain sets itself on auto-pilot. Details fade and the world becomes nothing more than an arrangement of easily recognizable symbols that are lost in everyday obscurity.

Once I finished my lawn-mowing moil, I felt a strange dizziness. Was I really so out of shape that  I couldn't mow a lawn for more than a half hour without feeling queasy? Or maybe I had succumb to summer sloth so greatly, that even the moderate amount of exertion from pushing a lawn mower was enough to put me in a mild tizzy. I looked around in a daze. In a moment of Zen clarity: the grass, the trees, the flowers, and the thicket, all flared up with natural vibrancy. It had never looked so vivid and alive before. It was at that point I noticed something glimmering in the dirt moat near the Grand Locust.

As I approached the Grand Locust, it became more and more evident the gleam was more than the mere sunlight. The gilded rays that poured down from the sky refracted brilliantly off of some kind of stone. At first I thought it was a lustrous emerald, but as I got a better look it gave more of the impression of a sapphire. It truly was hard to describe, but I was absolutely mesmerized at the time. Then I saw it peeking so gloriously from the dirt, centimeters from the beautifully hypnotic