Who Is Dexter Peterson?

The Lives of Dexter Peterson is a three-part project from musician/writer Matthew Ebel and comic artist Genesis Whitmore. Based on a novella written by Ebel, the album, story, and comic are about a boy from New York City who finds himself inexplicably jumping from one life to the next, as though someone were changing the channels of his life and he’s the star of every single show. He can’t explain why nor can he see a pattern, all he knows is that a girl named Alexandria seems to follow him from one life to the next.

My name is Dexter Jared Peterson. I am 26 years old and I live in New York City. In the last seven years I have lived as 11,577 different people.

This is how Dexter begins every entry he writes in his journal. Whether he wakes up as a World War II soldier in the French countryside or a dolphin off the Hawaiian coast or a cinema-worshiping priest of a post-apocalyptic religious order, all Dexter can do is try to stay alive as his environment changes. Throughout it all he keeps track of his lives in a journal that, somehow, travels with him.

Add to the Journal, Win A Free Album and Novella

Entries can be written, phoned in, drawn, photographed, or even on video. Do you know where, when, or whom Dexter might be next? Think about it… what would you do if you were suddenly somewhere else, someone else, somewhen else. You could be a different race or even a different species. What do you see? What’s happening around you? What skills do you suddenly have or languages do you suddenly speak fluently?

WRITERS & STORYTELLERS: Submit your own journal entries to be considered for a free copy of The Lives of Dexter Peterson, both the album and the story! Entries can be sent via email or phoned in at (503) 583-4254

ARTISTS: Do you see an entry that begs to be illustrated? Can you show an entire journal entry on your own with just the visuals? Submit your works as well!

PHOTOGRAPHERS & VIDEO PRODUCERS: Nothing says you can’t tell a story with a video or photo. If you’ve got an idea that needs to be told through real imagery, that counts too!

• All suitable entries will be posted here. Winners will be selected by Matthew Ebel and Genesis Whitmore and posted to Matthew’s front page.
• Writing winners will have their entries illustrated by Genesis Whitmore (if not already illustrated) and sent to them as a digital print. Once the album is released, all winners will also receive a free download of the album and novella.
• Enter as many entries as you’d like, there’s no per-person limit.
• All entries will be considered, but heavy violence or adult material aren’t likely to be posted anywhere.
• Submit your entries at http://matthewebel.com/who-is-dexter-peterson/submit/
  

Entry by Steven Shiroma. This entry needs artwork!

My name is Dexter Jared Peterson. I am 26 years old and I live in New York City. In the last seven years I have lived as 11,577 different people.

When one awakes it is often to the sound of an alarm clock, a cell phone, a door bell, or some other device designed to grab attention; however that luxury is lost when the time and place one wakes up in lacks the technological advancement. As such I woke up today not to an alarm, but to a person “asking” me a question.

It was rather startling to wake up from a rather pleasant dream of flying (or was it memory?) with a person, he looked to be military of some sort, dressed in thick plate armor topped with a winged and battle scarred helm hiding his face and accompanied by a rather viscous looking blade on his side. The stranger stood in front of me “asking” a question. I stress “asking” because it was not in the normal sense that someone would verbally communicate a question.

You see he never spoke a word, nor did he make any physical gesture. But as soon as I felt him “ask” his question I found myself spouting words unbidden but unable to be held back, my mouth vomiting forth with an overly cheery and car salesman-ish gusto, “Welcome back adventurer! Your reward for that bounty is five royal gold pieces as well as five hundred ee-ex-pee!”

There was a sudden flash of light surrounding this soldieresque figure in front of me before he took off at a full sprint. I don’t mean like a brisk walk or something befitting social standards, this guy RAN out of the room. After he left I felt a little more comfortable, what with no longer being stared down by an nonspeaking, seemingly unsocial character. Even after what I would call the “soldier’s” departure autonomous movement had yet to be granted to my limbs.

Seemingly of their own accord my hands suddenly sprung to life. One which was holding an empty mug the whole time was held firmly still while my other hand which had also been holding a cloth began to polish the already polished mug and kept polishing…and polishing… It seemed in this life I was to remain rooted for the however long it lasted. Thankfully my eyes and head where somewhat motor functional, allowing me to turn my head and direct my vision but speech was still lost to me. Not too long before I figured whereabouts I was.

If the constant glass polishing wasn’t an indicator, the large bar I was permanently rooted behind hinted to the fact that in this life I had become a bartender. The multitude of colored, unlabeled bottles behind me seemed to all be full, all the glasses that sat in rows below the bottles where so spotless and picture perfect it hardly seemed to me that they had been used. There were no patrons currently at the bar and only a few other guests lingered about the dining area of the bar, all standing, a few pacing but they never went very far.

These people gave me the creeps to be honest, they moved in short, repeating movements.

I doubt that those people where as conscious as I was, or maybe they where and like me where unable of vocal communication short of pre defined scripts it seemed from my earlier monologue. Just as I was getting accustomed to this new setting, a female figure ran into what I came to a conclusion as Green’s Tavern, boasted by a large wooden sign I noticed hanging above the bar. As she approached at the same break neck run as the soldier, there was no missing that her manner of clothing was much simpler than that of the previous patron.

She wore leather armor which I presume was homemade, a pair of riding boots, worn gloves and a tattered dark red cloak fluttering in her wake. Instead of a sword a strung bow seemed to be the preferred weapon of this newcomer, firmly grasped in her hand while the quiver was firmly strapped on her back, the flights of the arrows seen poking above her right shoulder. Sadly the hood of her cloak obscured her face this time simply a dark recessed shadow. I just so happened to notice something that had slipped my attention before.

Above this newcomer’s head floated what I could only explain as a small…text box, but in real life. The text written there was simply a name. Alexandria.

She was here and soon she was standing right there in front of me, only a bar separating me and her. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shout, ask her who she was, where she came from, why she was here but nothing came out. Then to my dismay I felt it happen again… I was getting “asked” a question and before I knew it I was gushing with that overly zealous tone, “Welcome back Adventurer! Your reward for that bounty is five royal gold pieces as well as five hundred ee-ex-pee!”

That same golden light enveloped Alexandria, a small “ding” was barely audible but was soon accompanied by more floating next, this box rising with the words “level up!” in it. Before I could even compose myself she was off like a shot, sprinting at full speed out the door and like that she was gone again. All I could do was go back to polishing that glass and await the next patron.

Here are some entries that have been submitted by friends, fans, and fellow writers. Feel free to submit your own or comment on the entries themselves. If you're an artist and you see an entry that needs to be illustrated, please submit your art as an entry as well!

High Time for Crime

It

A Deep Breath

Twice Burned

The Fourth Wall

Invaders from Space

You Just Lost The Game

2,000 Years of Peace

Whiskers and War Wounds

Unintended Consequences

The Wronged Queen

A Slimy Trail of Thought

Raindexter

Over My Head

Conspiracy of the Bulls

A Question of Sanity

Powdered Wigs in Paradise