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TheDinosawrus
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#226
Old 10-26-2010, 06:31 AM

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is "GT:D"...

It was finally my turn. I had been through the process of creation numerous times in my head. He would pluck my empty soul from the tree of life and fill it with the necessities of the human nature. He would start with my eyes and fill them with his tears so i may see the world as purely as he does. He would sync my heart with his, so i may feel his presence at all times. Finally he would give me hands so I could have a firm grasp on life.

He picked me from the fruit of his loins, placed me on his workshop table, and commenced his craft. Step 1, my eyes. No. This time he started with my hands. Slowly he sculpted them with precision and care, but as he finished the final touches I realized the felt cold and empty. Then he put his hand on my chest and allowed our pulse to become one. Then, something new. He removed my heart from my chest and placed it in my hands. With each life giving pump the color of my skin was coated with a dark brown. The color of the earth and of life. My hands grew warm from the fire in my heart. Tear dropping motivation and ambition into my eyes, he told me. "In this one, i have placed my love in his hands. Where shall you place it?"
I placed it on my shoulder so everyone shall know that their are no secrets. That the man i am will be evident in the way i carry myself.

AerieFlew
Flew? You could say that... ~
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#227
Old 03-06-2011, 04:49 AM

Annii walked into the room with her head down watching the lines on the rug disappear behind her. The tension surrounding her was an intangible battlefield of smoke. There was a faint scratching sound from the soles of her shoes rubbing against each other with each step. She stopped suddenly almost running into a couch that smelled of musk, just as her father always had.
Placing her hand on the couch and digging her nails into it she looked up slowly letting her weary eyes settle on a woman she hardly knew anymore. Blonde hair making her dull brown seem like mud, blue eyes that made her hazel seem like bark on a tree, the world had always seen this woman, passing her right by. This woman, her mother.
Her mother cackled and glared at Annii from behind dark glasses. With a wicked smile she sneered, "Would you stop the mopping? So your dearest daddy is dead, big woop. Now go fetch me another bottle of gin, I'm sick of seeing such a disgrace."
Annii's eyes brimmed with tears as she shuffled out of the room feeling the eyes of evil pierce her back. 'Why god.. Why, how could you do this to me? Take away daddy and leave me with the devil...' she thought to herself feeling the agony of his death over and over again.

Like? Comments? Suggestions?

fairywaif
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#228
Old 03-07-2011, 08:59 PM

First thing I notice, AerieFlew: is that there needs to be more commas and periods. Make sure your reader can read it without confusion. Also, I think you have a little too much description. Make sure the description isn't distraction you from the story, but adding to it. Of course, it might only seem like too much because of the lack of punctuation. Finally, I'm not sure I get the metaphor of a
Quote:
battlefield of smoke
. Are you trying to say she has a battle within herself? Or is the tension surrounding her like smoke? Combining the two doesn't really make sense.

For instance, after
Quote:
Annii walked into the room with her head down
you should put a comma.

AshbornFox
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#229
Old 03-31-2011, 01:58 PM

ok,
:)

Seth winced and turned his head away from his best friend, knowing there was nothing he could do when he was like this. Asher never liked it when people talked or tryed to comfert him when he cryed, wich he diddnt do offin. He couldnt find his cat, Jynx. He'd had him since the cat was a kitten, they were practically enseperable, but Jynx ran passed Ashers brothers legges when he had let the dog out and they havnt seen him for three days.
Insteed of saying it would be okay, or that the cat would be back because it loves him, Seth just sat beside his crying friesnd and let him be intll he was done. And when he was, he said, in a montone voice, "Are you okay now, cry baby?"
Asher turned his head shrply and glared at him, face red, both from crying and from anger. "Yeah, Light. Im FINE!" Seth Light sighed and turned his head away, eyes rolling.
"You should be ashamed, a 16-year-old and whining for his lost pussy-cat. Wha! Thets all you've done the last three days, WHA WHA WHA!" Seth knew how do get the bleach blonds mind off unplesent things, but he hated how the hert on his face grew with each word, " Its a stupid cat, get over it-"
Asher leaped, tacalling the older to the ground and ramming his fist in the red-heads check. Seth graped his wrist and flipped them, punching back. They fought, and as usual, the older had Asher pinned in minnits.
Breathing off, Asher glared at him, "Why do you always do that?!"
"Because," Seth smerked, "You focuse on killing me than your trubles."
Asher glared, cursing under his breath and turning his head to the side, eyes widdining. "Jynx!" he screamed, scrorming to be free. Seth let him up as the cat bounded over to them, "Where were you?!" The cat yowled as his master picked him up and squeezed, "Ive missed you so much!!"
Seth rolled his eyes, "I ------- hate that cat."

Last edited by AshbornFox; 03-31-2011 at 01:59 PM.. Reason: i saind something i shouldnt O.o

Dexter Morgan
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#230
Old 05-17-2011, 07:16 AM

I've always seen this thread here, but never really tried to post. Everything I write usually ends up being over fifty pages on MS Word. But I can try, at least. This particular post has promise to be something bigger. I might post more later, but tell me what you think about this?

Vincent moved along the sidewalk with the crowd, one hand in a pocket and the other grasping a black book. The moon was a massive, round orange-yellow, illuminating the sky better than the gas lamps could. Hansoms rattled down the cobblestone streets, pulled by great shaggy beasts that slightly resembled horses, which was what they were called, though they seemed to be some other species entirely. Voices blended with the wooden rattles and clopping hooves, the city a busy place even in the night. Vincent’s ears were always overwhelmed when he left the comfort of his home, trying to keep up with the rapid conversations over the unimportant noises and sights. But their meaningless rambles had none of Vincent’s interest at the time. He turned to a less-populated alley, where he could lean against the wall of a café and breathe easily.

He opened the black book and examined the contents. On the flimsy, yellowish pages, in a hurried and slightly spiked script, a name and time was written. He didn’t have a pocket watch--they always broke when in his possession--but the clock tower was conveniently located in the square, which was directly across from the mouth of the alley. He glanced above the bobbing heads of the passersby as they laughed and reveled in the moonlight, as the clock read 11:58. Almost midnight, he thought to himself, closing the book and slipping it into his pocket. He glanced down the alley, into the slight darkness that blanketed the crossing beyond. Someone was moving there.

He didn’t take the time to study who was moving; he leapt into a quick walk as silently as he could. His footsteps were not exactly stealthy, but they were mostly covered by the noise still spilling into the alley and echoing away. The shadow of a man Vincent was stalking moved out of sight, along the alleyway to the left, and Vincent hurried to catch up. Turning the corner, the man had stopped to fiddle with something small in his hands. He was under a lit window, and could be seen easily: Brown hair, the color of earth, and oddly pale skin. His clothes were ripped and dirty, mismatched as though he had scrounged them from bins outside tailor shops. Vincent undid the one button on his jacket, moving it aside and feeling for his belt. It was brass, containing several instruments that were very rare to any humans. Very good as well; Vincent was a demon.

He picked up his pace, trotting then sprinting toward the man; only moments before contact the man was aware of someone else near. When he turned, Vincent ran into him, throwing the disheveled human into the wall behind him and pinning him there. Vincent’s contact had told him the man would be easy, much more than other cases, since he was older and ill. But the man’s face contorted, becoming angry and afraid. Whatever he held fell to the ground and his hands came up, grabbing Vincent around the neck and pushing him back. The demon gritted his teeth, bringing his leg up and kicking him back into the wall. He couldn’t get to his belt while the man was alive. Mostly alive, anyway.

Balling his hand into a fist, Vincent struck out, knocking the man off his feet and onto the ground. He pulled a jade rosary from his pocket--the sight and feel still made him uneasy--and wrapped it around his victim’s neck, pushing down. The man was a fighter, and kicked his legs, managing to hit Vincent’s back and head. His hands flexed, digging into the demon’s arms, but did nothing to stop the strangulation. After several minutes of struggle, as the jade rosary cut both human and demon skin, the older man fell still and silent.

Without wasting time, Vincent returned the rosary to his pocket and pulled a long instrument from his belt. It was an impossibly-large syringe, made of brass and glass, which he uncapped and set on the ground. From the other side he unclipped a small bottle, thickly made of white crystal and corked. Pulling the man’s shirt over his head, hiding his face, Vincent held the syringe in his right hand and pushed the needle into the mortal's chest. When it was secure, he began extraction. Slowly, an odd grayish-red mist filled its chamber, swirling with a life of its own. When it was full, Vincent wrenched the needle out of the man’s chest and yanked his shirt back down, slipping the needle into the bottle through its cork and pushing the mist into the small container.

He stood, placing the syringe back into its holder, and lifted the bottle to the light of the window above. It moved still, as though wind was forever altering its state, but gained a human form from time to time. The soul was relieved of its owner, at last. He replaced the bottle on his belt and backed away, buttoning his jacket back to hide the brass belt. Vincent didn’t need anyone giving him a glance at his odd choice of accessory. He was already strange enough in appearance; with skin light tan instead of pale or grayish of a demon, hair light blonde and almost to his shoulders rather than black or brown or even a dark red like everyone else in the city, and eyes an icy blue rather than brown or dark green or hazel or gray. He stuck out well, even for a demon.

Still, he thought, it was a nice night’s work. A collected soul--be it a cheap one--for his client, and money for him. If it had been a rare or important soul, that of a king or duchess or a high-ranking demon or devil, he would be keeping it. Stepping out of the alley, he smiled. Another soul would come along soon; he knew that. They always did.

Last edited by Dexter Morgan; 05-19-2011 at 02:25 AM..

Dexter Morgan
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#231
Old 05-17-2011, 08:29 PM

Daren’s heart was racing, having a difficult time keeping up with his feet. He was rarely frightened by anything, but in the labyrinth of hallways that formed a newly-built home on the north side of the island, he could only run. His dagger had been stolen, and his gun had an empty chamber. He couldn’t find the exit, and his friends were somewhere, in danger, possibly dying while he fumbled about in the darkness. Somewhere above, thunder exploded, heralding the continuing storm, and he paused halfway down a different corridor. Gasping for breath, he struggled to listen; footsteps were behind him, as he knew they were. They were loud, and only getting louder as he leaned against the wall in the dark. Pushing himself to move again, Daren turned the corner left and stopped again.

He had been running all night. All night, and it was already three in the morning. He was tired, nearly defeated, ready to collapse and sleep. Feeling his way along the hall, passing doors and small tables and plants, he had slowed his pace significantly. The heavy boots behind him had closed the gap in moments it seemed, and with renewed energy Daren bounded forward, slamming into a door on the left side and forcing his way in. It was a bedroom, with a tall domed window in a little alcove and a massive bed to the right. A wardrobe hugged the left wall, but with one door opened he found it was too crowded to hide himself. Shutting the door and locking it, he stepped into the center of the bedroom.

He felt foolish for considering a hiding place. Daren never hid from anything, not in all his years. Ran, perhaps, but for what? He needed to get out, to find his friends in captivity and help them. But he didn’t know where they were. Pacing quickly, he wrung his hands, trying to think, to clear his mind. It was frustrating to him, being so lost, so clueless and unable to go to the aid of those he was close to. As rain washed down the window, something ran into the door he had locked. Turning, he faced the threat empty-handed. He was trapped, after all.

The wood splintered, breaking and flying off the hinges. Daren clenched his hands, the only weapon at his disposal, but before him was a man he could never take down without a weapon: Almost three hundred pounds of solid muscle, it appeared, with a square and boxy head and massive hands and feet, hair black and very short, eyes tiny and sunken in a pale face. The man had in one hand a dagger, one Daren recognized as his own. Daren paused, considering his options. Talking would only get him so far with such a brute. He raised his empty hands.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” He said. It was probably useless, but worth a try. “I don’t know what you want from me or my friends.”

The giant came forward, with an odd smile on his face. “I didn’t want your idiot friends.” He said. “I was told that the easiest way to you was through them.”

“Then where are they?” Daren backed away. “Where?”

“Safe.” The other man stepped quickly, grabbing Daren by the front of his shirt. “Safe enough for now.”

“What!” Daren struggled, grabbing at the giant’s hands but to no avail. “You s-said they were in danger! You said--”

“Of course I did. I say a lot of things.” He laughed, raising Daren’s dagger and plunging it through his chest. He couldn’t speak; only a squeak of shock escaped his open mouth, and he was tossed to the floor with the knife still embedded between his ribs. The giant reached down, plucked the knife away, and spun around. Daren watched, body becoming cold and blood blooming over his vest and shirt. He felt his heart, slowing and struggling, pumping the blood from his body, staining the floor in a dark puddle. The ground shook with the man’s exit, the slam of the door seeming to come from far away. The shadow-filled room only grew darker, breath coming harder, slower, impossible to draw. A heavy, black blanket fell over Daren’s body.

It was violent, like a punch in the face, an explosion in the chest. He started, sitting up, a terrible rushing sensation in his ears, light poking at his eyes. His body was cold, but slowly warming as though the room was a cooler being filled with warm air. The floor, its carpet, was wet, and his shirt and vest clung to his body. It was uncomfortable, but Daren had other things on his mind. The pain in his chest was the immediate thing, but it would go away soon enough. He stood, joints stiff, and went to the window. The giant was moving outside, taking the path away from the house and to the road.

His friends were all right. The lies he had been told were building within him, turning into a rage. He would find his friends, the only people in the world who really mattered to him. Death would not get in his way again.

InsiDoubt
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#232
Old 06-18-2011, 06:27 PM

This story is called Silence. I'm probably gonna write more in the same universe eventually. Anyway, here it is!


The infection had spread. I was the only one left in the city. The infection had killed everyone around me. All those who I knew, all those who I cared about, had perished from the infection. Me though, I had been smart, escaped infection and being found, and now, it was all almost over. I had received a transmission over the radio three days earlier, the government was coming to save the city.

Keeping to the rooftops of my urban city, I slowly made my way to the rendezvous, the helipad on top of the hospital. As I had learned, the airborne form of the sickness was cooler than the air around it and thus, it sunk. The sickness also took its place in water infestation, but that was easy to avoid. The blood transmitted form however, was another story altogether. The sickness caused mental rot, the difference between right and wrong evaporated, and strength and agility were increased. No one new exactly what had caused the sickness, but it existed and wrought terror.

I lost my footing as I attempted to leap from building to building, and fell. Almost. My left hand twisted behind me and caught a ledge, saving my life and breaking my arm. I'm soooooo dead! I thought. Luckily, I hadn’t let go of the ledge I was holding when my arm broke. It took me half an hour to get back up on the rooftops. The night was almost over.

The infected slept during the night, just as they did when human, except for the fact that as soon as the sun went down, they were dead. Not dead dead but dead asleep. I only had two more hours to find a hiding spot for the day. My left arm hanging at my side I dragged myself on top of a building with no access from the ground to the roof. I was lucky, buildings like this one were hard to find. They made a natural fortress against the infected because even though they were fast and strong, they had little control over their extremities. I laid down on the shingled roof and was quickly asleep, my left arm throbbing in pain.
I woke with a start. A shout from below alerted me to the fact that several of the infected were attempting to break my building.
“C’mon down now, we wont hurt you!” they shouted to me. I looked at the damage they were doing to the wall and realized it wouldn’t hold for much longer. I stood and looked around me. My building was very close to two others, one green one red. The ground beneath me began to give and I ran desperately towards the red one, leaped and landed. I relaxed, danger seemingly over. Then I remembered what I had thought to myself before sleeping. The red building would make a nice place for a trap, I gotta be careful. Lo and behold the stairwell gushed with infected. Suddenly I realized where I was, two miles from the hospital, forty-five minutes from the arrival of salvation.

Without waiting for the infected to catch me I sprinted from building to building, throwing anything I could find into the path behind me. I needed every advantage I could get. Still running I instinctively looked for a weapon. A fire axe was lying on the ledge of one of the buildings. As I neared it, I saw it was soaked in blood. Its last user had probably been as fortunate as I was, or decided to take his own life. I snatched it up as I jumped off the building.

They were so close, and still gaining. Then, the worst thing that could have happened did, I tripped. I mashed my nose on the ground; it felt like a hand grenade going off in my face. When I got back up, the infected were even closer. I cursed whatever “god” there was and continued to pick my way through the maze of roofs. Another three hundred feet and I’d be safe. It was not to be. One of the infected tackled me and once again I fell to the ground. I rolled to the side, taking my axe in my right hand, my left hanging useless at my side. To my surprise, there was only one infected. The others I presumed, had either been killed by this one or, they had fallen. It stared at me crookedly, cocked its head and said

“Are you the last one?” it asked. A bit taken aback, I replied:
“I dunno maybe.”
“I hope so” it said and began to move towards me. I swung the axe, which connected with its shoulder and cut a giant gash across its torso. It didn’t even look fazed as it leaped at me. Barely fast enough I dodged with a roll to the left. Then, with speed I couldn’t even follow it hurled itself at me and brought its fist into my face.

I was totally dizzy when I landed, and had no idea where I was. I faintly realized there was a beeping noise.
“What a reward I’ll get for the last one” someone said and then laughed. “ Ooh and he’s kinda tough too” something about that sentence pissed me off. “My master will be thrilled to see you” I managed to groan at him. Real effective. I had no regrets, death was a welcome compared to the horror of being infected. The only thing I wished was a little different about my death was the noise; I wanted it to be quiet when I died. Instead there was a chk chk chk chk chk noise. The wind around me rose, and the noise then became deafening. A gunshot rang out and there was a thump from behind me. I turned to look at what happened.

There, standing in full clad black was the rescue party. They shot all the remaining infected around. I crawled over to one of them, begging for him to notice me. Begging for salvation. And notice me he did, he turned his head and looked down at me. I smiled and said
“Thank you” there seemed to be a disturbance in the air, and the man’s radio sounded: “there are to be no survivors.” Instantly the gun was on my forehead and the soldier pulled the trigger. At least it was quiet.

Comments and questions and other helpful things are much appreciated :)

Last edited by InsiDoubt; 06-18-2011 at 06:30 PM.. Reason: It looked odd

kittykondos
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#233
Old 07-02-2011, 04:25 PM

It was the middle of the night. The usually busy street was completley empty. At least that was what one person thought. He was very chilly and hungry. It was mid-october. Just the begining of the cold season. He belived he saw a light in the nearby forest. As a child, James is his name, James was always told to keep away from the forest. His parents had always spoke of wild beasts and mad hunters looking anything and everything. It must have been the hunger that drove him toward the strange light.
James wandered into the forest. As his pace quickened, the light seemed to as well. He wondered whether or not if the light was real or just a figment of his imagination. Then he noticed that the air had became thicker, and that breathing suddenly became a very difficult thing to do. Right as he thought he was about to surely die of suffication, he heard a pop.
Then everything was gone. The forest, the light, the oddly shaped trees, were all gone. It was as if he had wandered off of the earth itself. He was trying to find the ground, but nothing could be found. Just empty space that seemed to go on forever. He began questing whether or not he had died. James could not rember falling to the ground or passing out from lack of oxygen. Just running into nothingness.
Then another pop was heard. He listened very carefully for more noises to indicate were he was. A loud slapping was heard. Then his face began to burn.
Then he rembered were he was. He awoke with a confusion. His younger brother, who did not appear so young anymore was standing by his side. Instead of explaing himself, his brother began to sob. Not a sad sob, but happy sobs. Then more and more happy sobs were heard. He jumped up as much as he could and heard a crash. He had something in his arm. Something pointy. He tried to rip it out, but a strange woman that he did not recongize stopped him. He was very confused. Then someone finaly he rembered. His mother was standing over him. She began asking james various questions. First if he rembered her. James tried to ansewer, but his mouth was so dry that he couldnt form the nessacary words. He did indeed rember her. He just could not tell her this. So instead he moved his head to signal yes the best he could.
Another strange man came in the room. He asked if everyone would leave the room a moment. Then this man whos nametag read Dr. Melson, pulled a seat next to james. He explained to james "You may not rember much of what happened, but you were in an accident about sixteen years ago. It was a car accident. You were injured pretty badly, and the passenger,..." He paused, and did not continue. James was begining to rember what happened. He rembered what happened to the passenger. James had gathered enough strength to say " Kate.... katie was... passenger." Dr, Melson was shocked that James could form any words. He was almost certain that James would not have woken up as well. If it hadnt been for his mother refusing to let her baby go... They would have never known.
Outside of the room, excited chatter could be heard. Crying and calls being made.
Dr. Melson started explainging to James more about his situation "Yes, James. Katelynn was the passenger. But you need to know that katelynn did not survive the accident. You have been in a coma for nearly 16 years."
James did not belive this. If it had really been 16 years... he would be 37 years old! He knew that couldnt be true. Just yesterday he had celebrated his 21st birthday with his new car and too many to count shots....

NicoleJin
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#234
Old 08-15-2011, 01:27 PM

I kinda been writing only a little bit. I pretty much just started.
___________________________________________
whats it like to really fall in love? Is love what makes the worst of human come out? So often people watch others relationships from the outside and have advice for it but when its theirs, they don't even take what they dish out. so its funny how we become when we are with another. The point of having a man and women together is for reproduction. Yet when humans because sex feels so great its become a pleasure over used and even abused. A drug that messes with people and changes who they are. So what sthe point of the emotion love?


Her hand drops from her lips to her waist. She stares out at the man walking pass her. Eyes following his movements and soon her legs follow too. Stepping into his pace behind him her mind wonders as she stalks him. "What kind of person is this? Would he be a good lover? Wonder how big he is? Can he fill me? Make me burn inside? Love me?" The questions swarmed through her mind and before she knew it. She walked right into his back, snapped outta thought and stared straight into his eyes when he turned to face her.
A moment of silence passed between them before she shook her head and spoke up.
"I'm sooo sorry I wasn't watching where I was going!"
The man remained silence. A mute to her then turned and continued onwards.
Somewhat shock she stood frozen.




After making it home she was still bothered how she was just ignored like she meant nothing. She went straight to her bed and plopped down. Closing her eyes, she opened her eyes to another world.

Laying before her was a vast land from where she stood high atop her tower closed off far from everyone else. The beautiful woman dawned in pure white silk over her pale tanned skin shimmered in the breeze. She gazed at the sunset with her amber eyes. Inhaling the scent of fresh mountain air from the north she exhaled with a sigh of joy. She started brushing her violet toned hair with a silver brush she had since she was a child.

As the sun set, a figure grew closer within view surrounded with a golden aura from the rays of the dying sun. Darken from the light it disstored her view. The figure stood before the tower as the moon climbed into the sky. She watched it as it made movements with a bag. Looking as if it was preparing for something straining. As the darkness grew, her eyes focused better and soon was able to see what was happening.



He stood before her. She felt as if she knew him but wasn't able to place it. Mute he moved in closer to her. He placed his arms on her shoulders. Feeling the weight and strength of his body she shivered. Unsure of what it was for though it made her confused. So closed off from others she was unaware of what was happening. He leaned into her. His face inched away from hers. She looked at his lips and then back to his eyes. They were gentle and safe to her like the forest that has always protected her. So she gave herself over and let him lead her. His lips closed over hers. Her body heat rose, making her feel as if she had been running through the night and dipped into a pool of water that had been heated by the day. It was refreshing and unexpecting from the normal cold touch that would dream it be. He pulled her into his body. Every part of them pressing each other as the kiss grew deeper and passionate. His tongue danced over her lips before nipping gentlely at them. She parted her lips and was invaded within seconds. Lust pooled in her stomach causing her to sigh into him. Her heart felt a warmth that reminded her of small animals that she would watch from above huddling together as a close family. He backed away a small distance to take a breath and to let her as well. Once more they stared into each others eyes. Then he left, gone into the night.

Her eyes opened to light that bursted its way into her room. Depression sank her from her dream ant set het back in reality.
No names were exchanged but the feelings that burn between them

____________________________________________

I want to write a love and tragedy story without getting to mature. But my main concern is that this one is sounding a bit to much like Rapunzel.
What are your guys thoughts?

----------

Of course another problem is that my story is also in pieces
I can't seem to write in an order.

Vanora
Baby Jae
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#235
Old 01-23-2012, 04:08 AM

A Dream
__________________________________
It was a beautiful sunny day in the city, the cars were bustling, people walking with cell phones in hand. At the far end, near the horizon you could see an old hill with garbage all over the place. This place was being remodeled to become one of the many malls already inhabiting the huge vast city. One day, father and daughter visited this construction site with an unseen sign with the words 'Private Property' written on it. They walked through all of the dumpsters, equipment and clutter that was all over the dirt floor.


Soon enough, thy were not alone, other people started sneaking around the property. Their destinations were the same. What destination would that be? The perfect view of the sea surrounding the south east area of the city. For what seemed hours, they all finally reached the top of the hill. Once up there, they saw the breathtaking view. The sparkling, turquoise water filling up the coast; sunlight shimmering and bouncing off of the sea herself. From here you could see the neighboring city right across from the where they stood. Such a beautiful view.to only be covered by another tall building. Sure the view from the windows would be great, but soon, that hill would be gone and just become another unneeded building.


Suddenly there were voices. Angry voices. Everyone then realized it was the cops coming after them for trespassing. Without hesitation everyone on top of that hill ran in different directions. Every man for himself sort of speak. The young girl rand after her father, trying desperately to keep up with him, but her small legs could only get her so far. Then, the most unexplained thing happened. She started running faster and faster. Almost as if she had gained the power of speed. Everything was blurred out as she ran around looking for her exit, at this point separated from her father. Soon in front of her was a chain-linked fence with the gates wide open. This was her chance for escape. She darted out in a flash, passing by cop cars, which soon followed suit. The girl was being chased all over town by cop cars, sirens blaring warning others of the fugitive.


The scenery changed all of a sudden. Without notice, she was no longer in the familiar city. No, she had entered an unknown apartment complex that looked much like a town in itself. She couldn't describe what she saw and yet at the same time, the place seemed so familiar. her mind racing, wondering if she was going to make it, wondering if her father was safe or had been caught. She could not understand why she was now a criminal. Shaking the awful thoughts out of her head she began to walk into the apartments, being cautious of her surroundings. Then from behind she heard a familiar voice call out to her. She turned to see her aunt standing at her door way, with a concerned look on her face. The young girl ran up to her aunt, tears pouring out of her eyes. They went inside and settled into the living room. Her aunt was now hiding a fugitive.


Five minutes or so had passed by when the phone rang, breaking the silence between the two. A young woman came into the living room handing the home phone to the girl. "It's your father", her cousin said smiling. The girl sprung up from the couch and grabbed the phone eagerly, anxious to her her father's voice. They talked for a few minutes only to discuss each other's whereabouts. Her father had been caught but soon released. No one who had been caught had been punished, just given a warning. The next day everything was back to normal. After her father came to pick his daughter up from her aunts's, that apartment complex disappeared. What really freaked the girl out even more was that no one had heard of this place as if it had never existed in the first place. Although, as the same times, they didn't seem too worried about it. They forgot the whole incident soon enough and about the apartments.


__________________________
This story was inspired by a dream I had a few months back.

Snowberry
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#236
Old 01-23-2012, 05:47 AM

Rozalyne~ Dreams are strange sometimes. You were thorough about depicting the environment and what was going on. The scenes flowed into each other and weren't choppy. I found it interesting how many people secretly came together at random to see a natural wonder and for an authoritative force try to stop and contain the people. The girl's speed and fast forwarding time to an unknown, yet familiar place. Before she becomes lost someone she knows brings her back and we return to what happened in the beginning. Very interesting. I enjoyed it. :) You should continue to post in this forum.

Vanora
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#237
Old 01-23-2012, 06:20 AM

Thank you, Snow. ^^
I tend to have very very odd dreams. Hahaha.
I am glad you enjoyed my story/ dream.
Hmm you think so? I don't normally write, but when I do I quite enjoy it.

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#238
Old 01-23-2012, 06:26 AM

I understand. It isn't the same as chatting and having a conversation. Writing takes time, but when you do you can earn some gold/exposure/critiques. Especially if you enjoy it when the mood hits. :)

Vanora
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#239
Old 01-23-2012, 06:40 AM

It does. Which I have the time, but it's a talent that is very lazy. >.<
I'm glad I had this story saved up in my computer. Not sure I could have remembered it word for word. Wrote on a spur of a moment. It had been haunting me for days after the dream happened. Plus the best way I know of getting rid of thoughts like that is to write them down. Hahaha.
Also, I just saw a whole bunch of typos/ grammatical errors in my story. e,e I need to learn to proof read before I hit enter. Lol.

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#240
Old 01-26-2012, 06:48 AM

You can still edit them. Acting spur of the moment can often lead to great things.

Chikyu
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#241
Old 08-22-2012, 08:12 PM

Quote:
Originally Posted by flaming-Scorpion View Post
A place to your short stories without having to make a thread. Higher chance of feedback here.

All original short stories welcome!!!! :D

Keep fanfiction out please =3.

But if it relates to a fairy tale or something to the sort it is welcomed!!!!

Thats it for now, have fun!!!

And anyone who is willing to have constructive crit.'s or comments is even more welcomed!!!



was written a short while ago, not one of my best works thou!

My short story: Think twice before picking a flower~!

Her crimson glare seemed to penetrate through the glass imprisonment and burn into his

eyes.
“How could you?” she questioned, her tone sounding shaken, desperate, and strangely

authoritive. Her red eyes reflected distress and anger.

“How could I not? You were simply to gorgeous to pass up,” The man mused, a smile

playing across his features. She stumbled slightly, her once strong legs becoming weak and frail.

Long silver locks framed her small figure, encasing her body in a shimmering frame.

“I hate you with a passion.” The words were strong, yet her tone was weak. When there

eyes met, both were shouting words that no longer seemed coherent. He held up a hand, breaking

the short connection,

“No need for such things. You are too valuable, and I will not return you to the meadow,

no matter how much you loathe me.” She fumed and her arms shook and the pale skin over her

knuckles became translucent as she gripped the crystal bars. He could see tears well up in her

eyes from frustration; they were beautiful to him.

“I hate you!” she shouted as her hands suddenly slid from the bars and fell limply to her

sides. Her perfection wilted as she slid down the bars, a few silver strands falling onto the floor.

He reached out and stroked her face, the softness pleasing him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered before pulling back his hand and taking his leave.

The next day he returned, expecting another heated argument. However, when he arrived, the

man found that his prize was not even standing. She lay on the ground, unmoving. He rushed to

her in a panic as he stepped through the crystal, his feet tramping over fallen silken thread-like

hairs. He cradled her withered form in his arms and lightly shook her.

“What have I done....?”

A young boy’s tear fell onto the fallen petals of his dead rose.

“It was still only a bud,” His mother said, caressing his shoulder “you shouldn’t have picked it. It

deserved to live.” He cried as she dumped the water out of the empty vase. He walked toward the

door and tossed the flower outside, still holding the soft petals in his hand, before he let them go

into the wind. He would have sworn he heard a voice mocking him in his foolishness.
Omigawd I loved this! Poor flower! I really enjoyed it.

Q U E E N
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#242
Old 02-11-2013, 12:01 AM

I think I'll post this here. :P It's a story I have to write for English class (rough draft is due on Tuesday), double-spaced, and only 2 and a half pages long. Oh, and it has to start with: "The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door…" Other than that, there are no restrictions. It's got to have a theme, and I'm thinking of writing a different short story since I don't like this one as much as I probably should. I'd like some feedback from you guys, the internets, whether it's criticism or praise. Please tell me how you think I'll be able to improve the story! :P


Number 158





The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door…or at least that’s what the man thought. Stuck in this stark white cell since birth, he rarely got visitors. The only time he was even let out was when they did experiments on him. They, the researchers and scientists, usually talked to him through a buzzer. No food or water was ever delivered, as he did not have the need for it. Thus, because of this, he also had no need for a toilet. Only the hands-free shower developed by the scientists stood in the corner; it had the ability to clean you with the press of one button. There was no bed in the room because he had long lost the need to sleep.

He had the appearance of being in his late teens, with a young face and an energetic spring to his step. His build rivaled that of a bodybuilder and most people were forced to look up at his face in order to talk. Standing up immediately at the disruption, number 158 stared at the iron door that trapped him from the outside world. And then there was silence. His eyes flickered momentarily to the red button on the wall. He knew it wasn’t logical to use the buzzer in his current situation. There was, after all, nobody left but him and maybe a few of those artificial intelligence robots in the underground cell next door. He ignored logic and pressed the button anyway. “Hello?” He asked. There was no response, just as he had predicted. Number 158 guessed that the knock had just been one of the protections on the door that prevented him from running away was malfunctioning. It had been a while since it was last checked-up and repaired, anyways.

Two hundred and thirty-three years. That’s how long it had been since the world froze over, temperatures all over the world dropping to under a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Number 158 had been keeping tally on one of the walls of the cell ever since Earth entered the new ice age on August 4th, 2065. One minute the orange-brown leaves had been fluttering to the ground, the next frost covered the trees and leaves were replaced by icicles. Most of Earth’s population had gone and froze themselves to death. A few desperate people had even set up camp in Death Valley, hoping the extreme heat would be able to keep them warm. They first died of heat stroke & dehydration, and then the cold eventually settled in and froze their bodies over. Sitting in his cell underground, number 158 had watched countless numbers of frenzied news reporters stumbling over their words in order to report the latest story to the survivors on the TV that they, the scientists and researchers, had placed in his room. The television wasn’t shiny and brand-new as he saw in the TV shows and commercials, but it was better than not knowing anything at all.

Looking again at the iron door, number 158 wondered if he could smash it open with sheer force. Not only had the scientists injected number 158 with an anti-aging serum and a serum that kept his body going and developing energy without any resources, they had also injected him with a muscle growth serum and watched as he lifted weights five times his weight every day. With the scientists gone, probably frozen to death in the lab, number 158 had continued lifting weights since there really was nothing to do other than walk around and watch TV when there were no more experiments being done on number 158.

Bam! Forcefully punching the door, number 158 pulled his hand back and blinked in astonishment at his own strength that there was now a large dent on the surface of the door. Why have I never tried to escape before? He asked himself angrily as he continued punching the door. It’s so easy. I could’ve escaped when those scientists were here and took them out, I didn’t have to go through those experiments… Number 158 furiously kicked a hole just big enough for him to squeeze himself through and found a little voice in the back of his head answering his own questions, “If you’d tried, you would’ve died. The knock was the security system failing, don’t start wailing and flailing.” Number 158 scowled and stepped into the dark hallway, the fact that the little voiced rhymed his words annoyed him just a bit more than it should have.

The dark hallway of the underground cells where the experiments were kept was eerily creepy. Number 158 remembered these hallways being blindingly bright, researchers and scientists bonding him up in unbreakable ropes as they led him to the testing room. Number 158 wandered around listlessly in the hallways, knowing full well that a survivor wouldn’t pop up around the corner and congratulating him on escaping. Hoping to find the exit out of the goddamned place, Number 158 found a stairwell, and the sign on the wall indicated that he was currently on floor -50. Sighing, he started the trek up the stairs, which was no big deal given his long-lasting endurance. Ignoring the fact that the door to the ground floor was unlocked, number 158 kicked it and watched as it flew across the room to crash into what looked like the receptionist’s desk. Only having seen the real world through the television, number 158 stared through the windows at the world outside, and watched as the sun slowly crept its way up, ice melting as it did so.

Theme: There is always hope.
__________________

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#243
Old 03-10-2013, 08:11 PM

Well, here's a really weird short story that appeared out of nowhere for a writing contest.

Pushed into Insanity

Annyeongie~ Aren’t I cute?

My name is Misoo. Kyung Misoo. Well, that’s what the nice nurse lady with the pretty brown hair says, anyways. I like that nurse a lot. She takes real good care of me and always dresses me up in pretty outfits, even when I try to resist her. I don’t like the other ones. They like to whisper and talk about bad things about me when I’m laying right in front of them, in this stupid bed that I’m only allowed to get out of during certain times of the day. They’re just jealous that they’re not cute like me.

They always say that I’m dangerous. They make me sad. Why am I dangerous? Why can’t I be normal? The nice nurse lady said that I’m a good girl. So why do they speak like I’m a monster?

Just yesterday I had tried to tell them that I’m a good girl. I just wanted to get the message through. Jeeez. But instead of listening to me they held down my punching arms and kicking legs. Those mean nurses tied me to a really cold table. They flashed a really bright light into my eyes and whispered some really big words to each other.

Then I felt a sharp thing in my arm and I couldn’t remember anything after that.

---------------------------------------------------

I woke up this morning and the nice nurse lady came to look after me. She gave me scrambled eggs and an muffin this morning, my favorite. Heehee, muffins. Isn’t that such a cute name? After eating she took me out of my tiny little room and led me down the hallway. I don’t like walking down the hallway. The lights sometimes flicker and it scares me a lot. When I get scared, I hide behind the nice nurse lady and she strokes my hair. She tells me everything is okay but sometimes I don’t believe her.

She took me into the testing room. I don’t like this room. It makes me very uncomfortable. I already knew what she was going to do when she led me into the testing room. Just like always, she told me to sit in the velvet chair. I know it’s velvet because the nice nurse lady told me it was. I don’t like it. It irritates my skin and I get bad itchy red and pink bumps all over.

Just like always, the nice nurse lady told me to look at some pictures and identify the objects. She told me that I should be good at this, as always. She said that it should be easy for me because I used to be one of the smartest girls in all of Korea! This always made me very happy.

The last image she tested me with was a picture of that guy, as always. Something felt bad in my tummy and I think my breakfast wanted to escape my body. I don’t know what happened, but it all happened really fast and I didn’t feel too fresh afterwards. One second I was looking at his picture in my seat, and the next moment I was on top of the desk, tearing up that guy’s picture as if it was the thing I hated the most.

The nice nurse lady calmed me down by rubbing my shoulder and giving me a piece of candy. I like it when she does that, it makes me feel nice and all the uncomfortable feelings go away. She told me to wait in the chair and I watched as she shook her head sadly and wrote down something on her clipboard.

I asked her if something was wrong. She looked all frozen-uppy like she didn’t want to tell me the truth for one second and then she shook her head.

After that I skipped down the hall back to my room and climbed into bed. The nice nurse lady gave me a box of crayons and a nice, smooth piece of clean all-white paper to draw on. I don’t like the papers with lines on them; they make my drawings look ugly.

One of the mean nurses knocked on my door and asked if she could come in. I said no. She came in anyways. I hate her. Why did she not listen to me? I didn’t want her interrupting my drawing time. She said that I had a visitor that would be coming up soon, and then left the room. She started to whisper to another one of those mean nurses. I have very good hearing, and I’m proud of it. But I didn’t want to hear what they were whispering about. I didn’t want to, but it came into my ears anyways.

They were whispering about me.

“Why would such a guy visit this idiot? She’ll never return to normal.”

“She’s gone too deep of the edge. Insanity is eating up her brain slowly.”

“Even the drugs don’t work on her.”

I think I felt something weird going on in between my eyes. I rubbed them and discovered that my hand was wet, and some weird water was coming out of my eyes.

Tears?

"No!" I wanted to scream. "I'm the normal one. The rest of you are insane."

But I just couldn't do it.

I felt weird and uncomfortable. I didn’t want a visitor.

“NO! SIR, YOU CANNOT GO IN!”

I heard the screaming of the nice nurse lady. She had never spoken this loud to me before. She was always very quiet and gentle.

A man walked into the door and stood there, looking at me.

“Mi—“

After that was just a bunch of hazy red and white lights.

I don’t remember what was going on. I don’t know what took over me. A wild beast—a monster was unleashed.

I heard a lot of screaming. Someone tried to stick one of those sharp metal skinny things into my arm but I pushed them away. I think they went thud against the wall and slid to the floor. Oops.

When I felt normal again, I just saw a sticky red liquid on the linoleum flooring. I could hear really, really fast footsteps coming down the hallway, so I opened the window. But the window was barred. So I ran out of the room and collided against a doctor. The doctor tried to hold my arm and drag me somewhere. But someone taught me how to fight against boys.

“Just kick ‘em good in their goodies.”

And so I kicked him in his privates. Heehee. He released me for a moment, just enough time for me to get away and climb down the stairs. I didn’t take the elevator even though it’s really fast. Elevators scare me.

I think I scared the lady who sits at the front desk. She gasped real loud and started shouting. Some really big, bumpy-muscle guys in matching uniforms tried to catch me as I ran out the door but I just slipped under them and ran outside.

I’ve returned to my old house. Everything’s still just as I remembered it. It’s so much better here than in that stinky, white place that they sent me to. I wouldn’t have had to go there if it wasn’t for that poop-face Kim Jaejoong. If he didn’t break my heart into a bunch of little pieces then they wouldn’t have to give me expensive shots and treat me like a little kid and stuff that I don’t like.

It’s all your fault, Kim Jaejoong. I was pushed into insanity by you.

Because I’m an innocent, cute Kyung Misoo. I can never do anything bad, or wrong.

Because I’m a good girl.

---------------------------------------------------

This morning when I went out for a walk people stared at me strangely. What? Was it not normal to go outside in comfy pajamas? I never understood why girls wore high heels when it makes their feet hurt and molds their feet into nasty things that don’t look like feet. And why they wear makeup when it makes them age faster.

I saw something really funny when I went out for my walk.

My face was all over the place! Man, I think I’m famous!

It’s all vintage-y, in black-and-white with a big, bold, black border around my pretty picture. They even have my name and “wanted” in really big, bold, black letters. Wow, they must want me because I’m so famous now! I knew looking cute was a good thing. Then I saw a dollar sign with a number 1 and a lot of zeros after the one. Does that mean I’m number 1?

Oh!

Somebody just knocked on the door. I better go get tha—

Wait a second, some guys just came into my apartment without asking me. They destroyed the door! How rude! Hold on a second, I need to go teach them a good lesson. You do not just break down people’s doors like that.

---------------------------------------------------

Heehee, Kyung Misoo is back.

I might have to re-paint the walls later, though.

It’s all red.
__________________

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#244
Old 08-04-2013, 07:38 PM

Title: I Am Nightmare
There once was a girl no older than 17. She was a genius in every aspect of life. Math, English, Science, Art, anything you could think of she could do. But she did something stupid once, and this changed her life forever.

One of her greatest skills of all others was her way with computers and science. She wanted to do many things that would change the world for the better, but her first idea ruined the chance for her to chance to change the world.

One thing that really fascinated this girl was dreams, well more specifically the nightmares that haunted dreams. She couldn’t get enough of nightmares, reading stories of them, and scientific studies about them. But her thirst for this knowledge just wasn’t being fed. She needed more than these fictional stories and the few science studies focused on them. She needed to make more knowledge to feed her mind. So she decided to do her own experiment on nightmares. And she would use computers to do so.

Her plan was to make a computer simulation that would bring nightmares to life in a brain stimulated room. The walls would be lined with high tech wiring that would ultimately connect to the head of the person that was dreaming. Then the electrodes in the wires would feed the images flashing through the persons mind into the room, thus creating a replica of the nightmare for the girl to see.

It took months to create this technology and the girl did it all by herself, she didn’t want anyone to see it. With her mind and the advanced technology of the 25th century she made her dream a reality.

She wanted to be the first one to test this piece of equipment and she wouldn’t let anyone else touch it. But this was the beginning of her mistake, maybe if someone had known…no it probably wouldn’t have changed anything anyways. She couldn’t wait to test it out, her mind was going nuts, so she should have told some one…why didn’t she tell anyone.

She connected the wires to her head and got up on the table to lie down. She closed her eyes and pressed the button to turn the machine on. Then she drifted off into dreamland to find her nightmare. How could she be so stupid? How could she not know that it wouldn’t work? How, when she was so smart, could she not see the flaw in her work? She never came back from that nightmare.

How do I know this story you ask? Well I used to be that girl once, so long ago. I have no humanity anymore, I am what nightmares are made of now and nothing more. I am what creates your dark twisted dreams in your mind. I can bring them to life if I so please, I can torture you with them every night, or I can leave you be. I decide who gets a nightmare, because I am Nightmare.

[[(Just a random dark story that I had in my mind, to much Stephen King O.0 haha)]]

Midorikawa
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#245
Old 12-30-2013, 01:33 AM

Despite the title, nothing is actually stated so I hope thats okay and doesn't go against the gore rule ^^;

Bloodstained


He stared down at the boy lying at his feet, studying the ferret mask over the boy’s face, the colors brown and tan painted in the style of Japanese animal mask, and what seemed to be long brown fur came from it and covered the back of his head. He ignored the ferret’s growl by the boy’s side in favor of looking at the red that adorned all three of them. He stared at his hand, emotionless, unable to process yet what had happened.

“This is why you should come back.” His head jolted towards the sound of a female voice, instantly recognizing the kitsune mask with its long white fur. He knew that under the masks, were the faces of a sixteen year old boy, and a seventeen year old girl. He knew them well from his past with them, his past that finally clicked into place with the current situation. It had caught up to him, had come back to haunt him and steal him back.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, no, no, nononononono, NO!” he screamed out at the top of his lungs, fear evident in his voice. “Never. Never again. I won’t. I won’t come back.” He could feel his breathing become heavy, his heart beat increase.

“You can’t change Grima. You are one of us. No you are superior, our leader, the one most special to all of us, especially him,” she put her hands over her heart, her voice aching with admiration and love for Grima.

“No you’re wrong. It’s sick, all of it is sick. You are all sick, especially him. You are right about one thing: I am superior because I left it behind, I left it all behind.

“Are you sure about that?” she nodded her head at the other boy still on the ground.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered out, his voice making it clear that he was lying to not only her but himself.

“If you say so,” she sang. He turned on his heels and at started walking, and then running. His destination a nearby academy. Once there, he ran to a bathroom, careful to avoid being seen. He washed and washed himself. He scrubbed his skin close to raw to remove the red from it, leaving the red to swirl down the drain. When he finished he looked in the mirror at his shoulder length black hair and black eyes. They were ruined. His right eye’s right half had been taken by the red, the hair on his front right was now a red stripe with scattered bits around it.

He screamed. He screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice strained with pain, and horror. Horror at what he had done, horror at his past returning, horror at being Grima. He screamed the worst scream ever heard at the academy.

So thoughts or comments?

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#246
Old 01-29-2014, 09:10 PM

I would like to say, this is more of a trial story. Think of it like the one shot that comes before the actual series. I'm gathering more information based on this, so that I can apply it to the actually short story later on. So, of course, I would love some feed back on it!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matthew

It was unseasonably warm the day we met, or maybe it was just me. Perhaps it was just the warmth of my heart beginning to stir once again. It's funny to think of it now, how someone so small and fragile could change my life so drastically. He was dirty and hungry, and so pathetically small. A bit like a tiny, injured canary, thinking back. Of course, I didn't realize at the time, as I'd never been truly hungry even once in my life. Even as downtrodden as he was, he seemed so ethereal. His blonde hair laid flat and matted on his head, and his blue-gray eyes were lusterless - almost like a corpse. I think maybe, it was the way he stood on that bridge, gazing out at the wide ocean. You could see a tiny spark of life in those flat, glazed-over eyes that gaped at the enormous blue brine before him. Yes, it was a very warm beginning for us. A very warm beginning, to a very cold story - The story of my Matthew.

That day, I was being escorted home from my 12th birthday party - and my first crowning ceremony. I was to take the place of my elder brother, who'd been murdered three years earlier, as crown prince. I was, without a doubt, unhappy during that time. I had no interest in being a prince, I had no interest in birthdays, and I certainly had no interest in ceremonies. I was staring blankly out the window of the carriage when I saw him. The sun was beginning to set, casting vibrant oranges and reds across his dirty face. He wore the same expression as me, one of apathy. It felt as if I spell had been cast on me. I looked over to my attendant and barked, "Tell the coachman to stop the carriage."
"But, Joseph, we must get you home! It's nearly dark out!" He protested, but I would not be swayed. "Just do it!" I commanded, and he followed through. I didn't even leave the carriage time to fully stop, I'd already jumped out. The boy was looking at me with those dead eyes, as I approached him. Those dead, yet somehow bright, grey-blue eyes. I could tell he was eyeing my lavish clothing, rather than actually looking at me. I was about to speak, when he turned away from me, back to staring out at the ocean. "What's your name?" I asked him quietly. We were quiet for a long time, and I could tell my attendent was getting nervous, from his shouts of, "Young Majesty!". I asked again, equally quiet as before. He blinked, as if broken from a trance. "Matthew." he replied, also in a hushed tone. "Matthew, why do you stare at the ocean?" I asked. Again, he was quiet, but with a puzzled look upon his face, as if he himself didn't know. "I was just thinking if, perhaps, I'd be better off throwing myself into it." He finally replied. This took me by surpise, to be sure. "Thow himself into the ocean!?" I though to myself, "But, what a great waste!"
"Come with me, Matthew." I told him, trying to muster up conviction.
"Okay." He replied, as if it didn't matter a bit. Of course, my attendant threw a fit. "You can't bring that peasant with you, to the castle!" He shouted. I squinted my eyes, tired of being nagged. "Watch me." I growled. And onward we went.

SepiaEyes
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#247
Old 06-11-2015, 05:38 PM

This one is a bit I wrote a while back for an assignment. I mean to write more, but this is the first chapter of my story, "The Adventures of Mary Celeste":


There had been some discussion of death. But more importantly, there had been more discussion of what was on the other side once you got there. And Mary liked the idea of dying and living forever after that in complete bliss. Sure, everyone likes to imagine what happens to your consciousness after your physical body dies, but not everyone who likes to imagine it goes and kills himself. Usually when that happens, the person who jumped ship had given up on the ship, didn’t want anything to do with the ship, and was pretty sure that ever boarding the ship was a totally stupid thing to do.
No, Mary cheerfully and eagerly jumped ship and ended her life. Not that there was anything wrong with the ship, just that she heard there were beautiful islands and she didn’t want to wait till her ship reached the original destination. Strangely enough, her middle name was Celeste: entirely coincidental and had nothing to do with the Mary Celeste itself, even though Mary’s ship, like the famed brigantine Mary Celeste, would reach its destination unmanned and everyone would find it a mystery. But this is not a story about the Mary Celeste, or even about our own dear Mary’s life. This is Mary’s story in the afterlife:
In the fifteenth year of Mary Celeste Norris’ journey, Mary abandoned the journey and took off on an unknown path of her own. It began when she found herself treading water in a great warm ocean with no land in sight, except for some huge islands floating in the sky with beautiful waterfalls disappearing into a mist. Mary was confused; this is not what the afterlife was supposed to be like at all.
“Hello?? Somebody help me!” she called, panicking. She could see people moving about on the island above.
“Hello!” somebody yelled back.
“Hello? Yes, I’m down here! How do I get up there?”
“Ah, yes, very good! It’s very lovely to meet you!”
“What??” Mary was beyond confused at this point and in the beginning stages of befuddled. “No, don’t leave me! Where should I go? What should I do?”
“Well, frankly, my dear, I don’t give a—“
“Bradley!” interrupted a woman’s voice. “Honey, if you’re down there without a ship, you can’t very well climb up here. But there’s some luxurious underwater caverns if you dive deep. I hear their pubs are the best.”
“Oh,” started Mary with a bit of an air. “But I don’t drink. It’s bad for your liver and once you start, you could become an alcoholic.”
A loud guffaw erupted from above and another voice added:
“Sweetheart, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re dead. You don’t have a liver to destroy. And alcoholism is a living world thing. And before you argue that you might run out of air, you don’t have lungs either. You aren’t breathing, even right now. Just dive in, grab a rum, and leave us alone.”
“Owww, be nice to the girl, she’s new to all this. She just came a little too soon is all,” whined the woman.
“Okay, thanks!” cried Mary, and she did as she was told. They were right; she didn’t have to hold her breath underwater. And she noticed that everything was crystal clear with a dark blue hue. Far below the surface of the water, she saw lights. She swam downwards until she reached the bottom. She landed on a cobblestone street with shops and pubs on each side. Lanterns lit the way in both directions and at first everything seemed deserted. But then two men burst out of a pub door and wrestled on the pavement squawking about a dancer.
A lady in a sparkly green leotard and a headdress of conch and oyster shells calmly tiptoed out of the pub and stood on the side to watch the spectacle. Mary gave her a questioning look and the lady replied while thumbing her nose,
“The shawt ‘un slapped me bum, an’ the lawge ‘un righ’ smasht ‘is rum bottle on th’ shawt ‘un’s nose.”
Mary blinked in astonishment. Some afterlife, she thought. She slipped into the pub and was immediately offered a bottle of rum by a man enthusiastically screaming, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” at a young child who couldn’t have been any older than three chugging away at a keg that said, “RUM” on the side. Mary looked on in horror.
“Aw, dinnae worry yer pretty wee hidd, lass. He died a’ sixty-six but wantit tae look lak a wee boy sae he could spit profanity an’ people’d get their craic, ya knoo?” a plump ginger slurred at her.
Mary stared into her rum and then up at the bartender, who looked like this wasn’t the most exciting thing he’d seen in all his time bartending.
“Does this happen all the time?” She asked.
“Nope. Usually he comes in here, gets as drunk as he can without blacking out, and then howls the most disgusting, repulsive words he can still think of. He’s getting pretty good at it. He doesn’t use the new words, though, so don’t expect to get offended. He uses the old Norse oaths, the ones used to either start a fight or summon spirits. But now the only spirits to summon down here are the ones right there in your bottle. Care for some more?” he offered patting the keg of rum on the wall.
“No, thanks. But why are they used to summon spirits if they are so awful?” She asked.
“Because the Church went all goody-two-shoes on the language of the land and all of a sudden, the old tongue is replaced by their cursed Latin,” and with that he gave the bar top an angry swipe.
“But don’t most words come from Latin?” she wondered.
“Most words are from languages of people whose ancestors soaked the ground with Roman blood and then happily repopulated the land to the memories of it. The only reason Latin is still used is because of the mercy and fascination of historians and linguists, and the inability of some religious nuts to let it go. If Latin is as high and mighty as you lot were led to believe, how come the so-called ‘barbaric’ languages are considered unutterable? If you can answer me that, then I’ll kiss the guy next to you full on the mouth.” The guy next to her gave the bartender a deer-in-the-headlights look. “If you ask me,” he continued, “Latin is the tongue of the dogs and the ancient tongue of the Germanic tribes is the glorious legacy of a respectable people.”
“I take it you’re German?” the guy next to her guessed. His name was Sean, apparently. Or Linda. Or English Scum. His tattoos weren’t very helpful as to which name was his.
“Certainly not! I’m Faroese,” the bartender boasted.
“Is that Asian?”
“It is no more Asian than you are English.”
“Tha’s a good way to get a rum shot in the eye, sailor.”
Mary stared into her rum again and imagined a great naval battle upon the amber waves. She looked back up at the bartender and the guy next to her. She was quite sure she was going to enjoy herself in the afterlife.

“So, tell me more about old Norse.”
__________________

numerica
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452.66
numerica is offline
 
#248
Old 10-31-2015, 06:06 AM

Heartbeat

Ba-bump

He is awakened by a light. Although neither of them needs light to see, his former queen always has his… cell… lit when she enters. Not a strong light, but enough that she can see the red of his blood, not merely that he his bleeding. He believes, no, he knows, that his former queen is trying to manipulate his psyche into dependence on her by keeping him in the dark when she is away. All that it has taught him so far is to fear the light.

Ba-bump

He is chained to the ceiling this time, and he forces himself not to cringe. This will not be a social visit then, where she attempts to cajole him into surrender. She thinks that she can torture him into submission. She forgets that he is as much a Sidhe as she, and just as vulnerable to the sin of pride.

Ba-bump

Ba-bump

Ba-bump

Ba-bump

He feels her lick the blood from his wounds. There was a time when he would have found that… stimulating… and on some level, he still does. But it is nothing compared to the memories of Annoura. He can feel her frustration at his lack of response. She steps back.

Ba-bump

“Rhys, Rhys, Rhys. Aren’t you tired of these games by now? If you would cease your protection of the seer, we could put an end to them, and you could return to court.”

Ba-bump

Rhys wonders if she thinks the years of captivity have addled his brain. He knows that she could never allow him to return to the court that thinks him dead. His death served as a warning to the other lords that even they could not defy their queen, and to have it reversed would weaken her power over them, something she would never allow. No, the only end to this is death.

Ba-bump

She continues to talk, but he has ceased to listen. Eventually, she gives up and leaves him in the dark. A few minutes later, the chains disappear dropping him to the floor. He curls up in a ball, and listens to his heartbeat.

Ba-bump

Ba-bump

Ba-bump


He does not fear death. He fears that in a moment of weakness, his protections will waver, and his loved ones will be once again hunted. Annoura would join him in death, but Carys, the beautiful daughter he has only known through the visions his far sight has given him, they would twist to serve them. If she were lucky, they would recognize her as his heir, and she would be forced into an arranged marriage with whoever the queen thought would best control her. If not, she would be kept as a plaything for the same. Either way, the sparkle he has seen in her eyes would soon die.

Ba-bump

He has come to hate that sound, for it means he may yet break.

MadLilAlice
113.10
MadLilAlice is offline
 
#249
Old 07-26-2017, 11:13 PM

Every morning I wake up in tears. The salty droplets painting a landscape on my face. Each one heavy with the weight of my pains. How one night could start out so amazing and end up becoming the worst night of my life. I don't know, you tell me. This is the story of my life, all of its good parts, and the bad ones too. I don't need you to believe it, but I do need you to listen. Only then will you come to understand my sorrow, come to understand my tears. For my name is Hope Manuella. Hope.. surely there has never been a more ironic name for a person in all the world. My life has been filled with anything but.

The only place to start is the beginning. I can't say how much of this is true and how much is the fanciful workings of a young girl, but I will tell it as I remember it. My first memory is of the color red, a hand squeezing mine as I am jerked into the back of a red van. My final glimpse of freedom being my mothers terrified face as she watched us speed away. I still remember that face, terror stricken and helpless. I never saw her again. Not even at the end. For my story has already had its ending. But, I get ahead of myself.

Next, I remember darkness. The dark of the space beneath my blanket, the only safe haven I had. The darkness of the night as I fled so many years later, branches tearing at my clothes. That flight still stands out vividly in my mind. The great gasping pants that tore past my lips, the stitch in my side as I continued to push myself harder and faster, and the knowledge that they would find me. Find me they did and then it was only darkness. It's funny, I always thought I would cry at the end. But, when it actually happened I found an overwhelming sense of relief.

Hope, how little I had in my short life. Hope, the name given to me by birth and the mockery they made of it as they still insisted on calling me by it. Where I ended up afterwards, you'll find out one day. But, know this. Here, I am no longer Hope, I am more.

 


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