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Kifflemonster Noodlevomit: Prose and Tidbits
I started something a long while back that I've been thinking about revamping. It's all about a girl who's basically pulled into the own artistic depths of her mind and forced to fight battles. Sort of like if Roger Rabbit and Alice in Wonderland had a goth baby. Anywho, here's the raw of it. Feel free to comment and critique, or leave suggestions about what you might like to see happen in a story like this.
- - - - - - - It seems so long ago that the world of which I knew disappeared, but the world of which I liked began to overwhelm me. I am sure you are probably confused about what I am saying, but this is only because you do not know my story yet. Yes, it is somewhat of a short one, but its power and depth have latched on to my very existence and carried me off to a new way of perception. Perhaps it can do the same to you if your mind is open enough. You will have to forgive me for not introducing myself. As greatly as it pains me, I must refrain from doing such a thing, as this story is not really about me, but about what has become of me. When this story is finished, it will be nothing more than words written on paper. I am sure that this story’s word will most likely be spread among a few people, but you must remember that it is nothing more than words on paper. I am going to assume that most of you reading this enjoy pictures, yes? Everyone enjoys pictures. If not for them, many things would be impossible. The reason I use them is to depict scenes and happenings to you through two of the most powerful devices in the world: the power of words and the power, of course, of pictures. Pictures are worth a thousand words, and the pen is mightier than the sword. Perhaps you have heard of these phrases once before…but now I am just rambling. I should really be telling my story instead of driveling on, and so if you will allow me… I, myself was never athletic. I was never popular, never rich, but I did not care. There was one thing that I had always been good at, and that had mattered to me. This was my ability to communicate to others through my drawings and writings. My creations were my life, or at least a big part of it. I never found human beings as something I liked. In return, they were never partial to me, but myself being one, I had to accept it. I did so by using a pencil and paper. If only the world I had been in could have been as pleasant and enjoyable as the one I have come to know… School life was difficult. I could never hold my attention to something for longer than two minutes, before my face was then buried in a notebook, scrawling and scribbling the thoughts and imagery that flooded my already preoccupied mind. This got me in to trouble many a time. After a while I figured, “Why bother going any longer? I am not interested in what they have to say to me, I am much more content with what I like to do,” so all at once I decided not to continue going there any longer. I liked my room. Being that I was an only child, my room was small. I liked it because I could construct a world only for me, a world in which I had friends and a life. It was all laid out before me on paper. The best thing about it was that time seemed to go on forever, because in the penciled eyes of my creations and in the words of the notebooks that filled the shelves, “There was no time of which to waste away.” People did not believe me when I told them that the images that I had so pain-stakingly drawn began to come alive… Thedorus was the keeper of my world. He was an unsettling young man garbed in morbid clothes and a pirate smile. Blacks and whites were the world in which he dwelled. A young bachelor of no more than 20, and yet there was an air about him that made him seem older than he truly was meant to be. He had no home and family; all that he had were the other creations I had sketched to rule with an overpowering fist. He was haunting, as if he were the monster of a nightmare that was eerily comforting. If I had known any better at the time, perhaps I would not have fallen under his charming spell. Another of my creations was Sythra, who was first drawn to be Theodorus’s soul mate, in a word. Over time and many a drawing, she became a heartless, demonic witch who wanted nothing to do with the man that she was born to love. She retreated to the endless, towering mountains that lay strewn before her forgotten love’s kingdom. There, she wasted away in her solitude, plotting all her life for the assassination of him by her own hands. One day, she no longer haunted my mind with these ideas drenched in blood, so I could no longer find a reason to give her life. I tumbled down this rabbit hole, To worlds with shades of black and white. The endless night with lesser light and suddenly the wrong was right. I awoke one morning to find myself surrounded by black. Night. Shadows. Added to that, I was spattered with what smelled like ink, coating my clothes and matting my hair. A low mumble in my ear caused me to jump. Trembling, I whispered out in reply, unknowing of what even myself was saying. The mumble grew louder, then to nothing but silence as a hand webbed my shoulder. I found myself staring, startled half to death, into depthless eyes that seemed to engulf me. Familiar, black voids. To accompany them, a pirate smile curled on to pale lips. I knew not long after that Thedorus was staring me down. Even if he was my own creation, a new wave of terror broke out inside my mind. One of respect. “…You’re shivering, love…” His voice was quiet, a low purr of a tone. He must’ve known I was startled. His slender hand and talon-like fingers slid slowly down my arm, chilling my bones. He stopped as his palm pressed mine, lacing our fingers. His pirate smile faded a bit, “Close your eyes, my dear. This is no place for an introduction.” |
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I also feel like this is kind of a let down for an interesting paragraph. Yeah, you might be rambling, but remember that this paragraph does have a purpose. I think you should allude to it in this last sentence instead of telling the reader to ignore it. Quote:
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Even if it’s not illegal to stop going to school, her parents don’t care that she’s completely left school? Quote:
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(Also just to point out the ‘pirate smile’ again. Is it really creepy and vaguely brutish? It doesn’t seem to match his personality.) Quote:
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--- I like the idea, but I have no idea where it’s going. It feels a little like you stopped right before the plot started. I’ve always found a nameless protagonist to be an interesting idea, but it’s definitely one you have to get creative with when people are talking them. The way she speaks is so formal, it feels almost… cold. I think that’s an interesting way to take it, if that’s what you intended. The main issue I found was that you add a lot of words that make some sentences hard to read. It’s sometimes easy to get lost in all the words and miss the point of the sentence. Good luck with it! |
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