# GBAtemp Writers' Guild



## Sterling (Jun 8, 2011)

​*GBAtemp Writers' Guild*​​*We love to write!*​​ 
*Goals*

Here at GBAtemp we cater not only to the needs of Gamers and Nintendo enthusiasts, but to many other forms of entertainment and creative outlets. From breaking news to the latest movie, we pride ourselves to be a robust and kind community. However, lately we have a deficit of competent writers. It is my belief that there is no deficit, but a lack of incentive. The initiative that this project intends to achieve is to produce, and inspire anyone to post their dabbling in the written art that is literature. This can be a specific as a painting of a work with descriptive words, or even a narrative of epic proportions.

-*Appropriate Submissions*

As a writer, you'll be submitting short stories, essays, poetry, etc. As a reviewer, you'll be reviewing anything you want to.

-*Values and Rules*

Absolutely NO PLAGIARISM!

Here at GBAtemp, Plagiarism is taken seriously, even if it is a small as an impressions review.
If you decide to critique a contributor’s work, please don't flame their work. We are here to better each other, not discourage each other.
If your work is competently critiqued, it is not your job to call someone a troll. This will be delegated to some members here in the Guild to flag for clean-up.
When submitting stories, make sure the language and content follow GBAtemp rules. I know the forum is lax on cursing, but too much is bad for the userbase and is mildly offensive to most.
Keep in mind that there are children who come to this forum regularly. I don't need to specify what sort of descriptive content is inappropriate.
-*Writer Application*

Current User Name, and previous User names. (Or the past 3 - 4)
Area of Expertise. (Narratives, Poetry, Lyrics, etc)
Which language was your first, and what number is English on that list.
How often are you active here at GBAtemp? (Doesn't have any effect on your application, but it's nice to know)
How often do you write?
Sample of your work. (It has to be either a short story, or a smaller part of an existing work. It can be on GBAtemp, or another website such as deviant art.)
-*Reviewer Application*

Current User Name, and previous User names. (Or the past 3 - 4)
Which language was your first, and what number is English on that list.
How often are you active here at GBAtemp? (Doesn't have any effect on your application, but it's nice to know)
How often do you write?
How many reviews have you done? (Rough estimate)
Link to a review by you. It must be uploaded here at GBAtemp in the Review's and Guides section.
​*Member List*​​*---*​​
Guild Leader - Sterling
Co-Leader - Edgedancer
Lead Reviewer - chris888222

Lead Writer - Shinigami357


*Writers*
Chary
Wolvenreign
MegaAce™
Click This - Lute
VVoltz
Blaze163
Gahars
ShinyJellicent12321
astrangeone
shyam513
Old8oy
KirbyBoy
personuser
KingdomBlade
Shinigami357
Raika
Domination
Edgedancer
Logan97

*Reviewers*

shyam513
KingdomBlade
chris888222
Devin



Spoiler: Name Changes






 
Most importantly, have fun with what you write. Flesh out your own style and never give up!

Another side note, if there are unattended to applications, and I am not around. Please, reviewer or writer, process that application and send me a PM here with the User name and status of said application (Accepted or Declined).
​*Activities and Messages*​​*---*​​ 
Since the Guild is so small, there are no current activities. If you are writing at the moment, and wish to post an excerpt, or short story, or review (either in the GBAtemp Reviews and Guides section, or here), please do so and I will add it here for exposure.


----------



## Recorderdude (Jun 8, 2011)

you know what, this could be good for me, since I'm writing in a newspaper soon too.



- Writer Application

personuser on GBATemp, Recorderdude everywhere else.
Expertise: Lyrics and Comedy/Dark Comedy
First language is English, that's #1. Also learning Spanish.
I'm quite active.
I write lyrics constantly, and humorious stories now and again.
Sample of your work:

Two stories:


Spoiler



Julian had awakened from his deep slumber. He stretched his feet out, and began patrolling his assigned area. Should he see his enemy, he was to charge forward ruthlessly, and attack with no holds barred. He marched back and forth for hours, and began to feel quite weak from the repetitive and never-ending motion.

Then, HE appeared.

The ultimate enemy. The one who had killed millions of his bretheren. This fiend had to perish.

Julian charged forward rapidly at the murderous monster, and was ready to attack, but just then, the monster rose up into the air with a mighty bound. 

Julian gasped in horror as he saw the shadow of the beast descend upon his mortal body.

And then, he felt it.

Julian felt a large foot pressing upon his soft, fragile body. His internal organs spewed out and his skeletal structure collapsed. He screamed in pain, but his cries and his pain were soon ended by the sweet release of death. Yet another victim to the bounding beast.




Mario walked away with one hundred more points than he had before.





Spoiler



The "pleasant pastures" bar was dark, murky and miserable as ever tonight. Within its cold, hard, dust-ridden walls, a group of grizzled old palace knights sat and guzzled down beer after beer. They should have been guarding their new ruler's residence from something, but they cared not about that. Instead, they turned to their only friends; themselves, the quiet and ever-busy bartender, and their drinks.

It was then that a Young man burst into the bar in a panic. 

The man seemed to be about twenty-one of age, of considerable cleanliness and decent appearance. He dashed towards the drunks in a rush and found his face planted into the beer gut of the largest, known "John Dodson" or simply "Staggerin' John", a name acquired from the many, many nights he had staggered out of the bar in a drunken stupor.

"Death...warrior...no...mercy...", the young man jitterishly uttered.

"Whoa, pal...slow...slow down there" John mumbled in a nearly inaudible slur. Surely the beer he was clutching was not his first tonight.'What...what are you so worry...worried about?"

Gathering himself together, the man began to talk in a clearer tone.

"My name is Harold Morris", he began. "However, that is of no importance. You must all listen to what I am saying and run for your lives shortly after".

The drunken bums chuckled at the prospect of something truly frightening occuring in their worthless slum town.

"L-L-LISTEN TO ME!" Harold shouted nervously in an attempt to attract attention.

The men quieted themselves and listened more intently.

"Listen, and listen well. There is an infamous warrior who has been rumored to be headed for our town. He is a ruthless beast who has destroyed the lives of many."

"Sounds like my wife", chuckled Staggerin' John. The others chimed in guffawing loudly in a drunken chorus.

"I SAID LISTEN!" Harold screamed once again.

They quieted down once more.

"This warrior is, however, different from most. He is the most barbaric man has ever known. He slays his enemies ruthlessly, and, when they have been defeated, he CONSUMES THEIR HEARTS.

Once again, the men burst into drunken guffaws. This time, Mel, the bartender joined in.

"I'M BEING SERIOUS!" Harold yelled out as he smashed a bottle on a table to command attention once more.

The men stopped immediately.

"Good.", Harold said quietly. "NOW, listen to me, you MUST know how to save yourself from this monster. If a teenaged boy wearing a green suit should come into this bar, smashing practically any container he should find, get out, then and there. If you do not, you will have but one saving grace. Pray that...Chickens are near."

At this point, the men lost it. They fell over on their sides, laughing uncontrollably. "So wait.", began Staggerin' John, you're saying that some kid wearing green clothes is gonna walk in here, break all the pots, and consume our HEARTS? and our only hope is CHICKENS?" "AHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!". They all returned to their laughter.

As they laughed, a chill ran down harold's spine. He heard grunts, and they were coming closer.

"No...not now...", he said, shaking and trembling in a corner.

Suddenly, the door burst open. There stood a young man in green.

"EEyah!" "huh!" "waaaaaaah!", he screamed. The men turned around.




Link happily walked out of the bar, having defeated three evil knights and gaining three hearts and ten rupees.



My lyrics/Songs can be found on YouTube and sometimes dA/newgrounds under the name "recorderdude".

(oh, and some info mainly about the second story from the other thread




			
				personuser said:
			
		

> Shinigami357 said:
> 
> 
> 
> ...


----------



## Nujui (Jun 8, 2011)

The Writer App:

Sheaperd121/Duskye/KirbyBoy.
Short and Long Stories. Sometimes serious or funny.
English, maybe learning Spanish.
I'm pretty active, I visit this site everyday.
It really depends on the mood. I sometimes write alot, but then sometimes not.
Sample: One is a fanfic and the other is a original story. Just tidbits though.


Spoiler



Mario was awoken from sleep again and not so forcibly back into this world. As he stood up he felt a soft, familiar hand on his. He turned his head and saw Peach, sleeping on a chair right beside him. He also heard loud snoring coming from the top bunk. "Must be Toadsworth." Mario thought.]

Mario looked around and found himself inside of his house, though not what he had left it in. Things were scattered across the floor, the door was flat on the ground, and the whole place was just a big mess. Then Mario noticed a little trap door right beside his bed that was opened..

"I don't remember ever installing a basement…" Mario thought. "Luigi must have put it there…."

As the thought of his brother comes into place, memories of what he just seen came into his head. Luigi acting evil, keeping his brother trap inside his secret basement and….stabbing him with who knows what, "The Dark Injector," Mario thought, "That thing that Bowser made….it did something to him. He would never act this way….wait."

Mario suddenly remembers what Luigi said: "though it left a life lasting scar, the reward made me forget about the pain."

Mario looked down at his chest; he saw a hole through his shirt right where his heart should be, though when he looked a little closer in, he saw what looked a dark line going across his chest. He tried to touch it, though it rejected him, he feel like he touched a burning fire.

"Ow!" Mario said quietly. Peach seem to hear him, as she slowly opened her eyes and started at Mario.

"MARIO! But I thought…I."

Peach put her hands to her face and started to cry. Toadsworth woke up sudden saying "What's wrong my dear?" Right as he rolled over and fell onto the floor.





Spoiler



I came up to my room, and open the door, seeing the same old clothes lying around the room, same old bed and tv. I sigh and drag myself to the couch and take off my coat. As I lay my head down on the rock hard couch, I pick up the remote and turn on the TV.

“Usually crap, “ I said “Never is there anything good on here anymore, just stupid reality tv shows.” I keep flicking through the channels until I get to the news channel, “At least the idiot box is good for something.”

I sit up and lay my feet on the table, listen to today’s news.

“In today’s headlines, political unrest is in sight today as protestors take to the street over the new bill. Fights broke out and police were involved. 10 people were injured and others arrested. The governor could not be reached for comment, but his one of his advisers said "Everything is under control." ”

“In other news, there has been a unusual number of deaths lately. Police say that who ever is behind the killings are professionals. No evidence is found at the scene. Nor witnesses. The deaths are special though as only 18 year olds are being killed.....”

I turn off the tv “Same old, same old. People killing each other, protesting, all’s on the news anymore.”

I give myself a laugh “Ha, I act like I’m so old and yet I’m 18…..My brother was right, I’m am growing up too fast….”

I take out my wallet and take out a picture of my brother. We were both giving each other nugges, though in this picture I’m on the receiving end. I remember when my brother was like this, but I’ve only seen him when I was eight, after which our parents got killed and we were both sent to the orphanage. Something there changed both our lives…..



EDIT: Added one more fanfic tidbit.


Spoiler



Autumn leafs are falling from the trees as people around London go about their daily lives, though the children of London are looking forward to the Autumn Fair. Every year you could always hear the children playing around in the crimson leaves, hearing the crackle of leafs as children piled into them.

"Reminds me of when I was a young gentleman" Said Professor Layton as he took another sip of his tea. He was watching Luke, his apprentice, playing with the other children.

"Ah, I always look forward to this tea. It's the annual autumn tea made with pumpkin species and maple to add a certain fragrance to it that I'm just drawn too."

As he took another sip of his tea, Luke came running towards him.

"Are you having fun Luke?" Asked Professor Layton.

"Of course I am, professor!" Luke said with a grin. "I just came to sit down and relax bit. I'm a bit tired out."

"Well then sit down and have some pumpkin bread. You can't expect me to eat all of this by myself."

Luke took a seat as he reached out to get a piece of pumpkin bread. "The fair…(munch) is tomorrow….(munch) right Professor?"

"Now Luke, it's very rude to eat while talking."

Luke gulped down his remaining bread and said "I'm sorry professor; I'm just excited for the fair tomorrow."

"It seems so," said Layton with a giggle "I remember the first time I went to the fair. It was the most wonderful experience I've ever had, though….."

"Though what, Professor?" Said Luke as he stuffed another piece of bread in his mouth.

"Well, during one of my times at the fair, there was a terrible tragedy that occur there. Involving someone being killed."

"What happened Professor?"

"I…..very much appreciate it if you not ask me Luke, I lost someone….very dear to me that day. I don't want to relive it again.

"Oh, sorry professor. I was just curious."

"No, it's not your fault. I peaked your curiosity with what I said, but please I would be very grateful if you didn't speak of it."

"Alright professor." Said Luke "How about we talk about something else?"

As the two were talking and eating, Layton looked at his watch. It was 6 pm.

"Well Luke, I think it's high time we seat off for home. It's getting late, and I don't think you want to be sleepy during the fair?"

"I wouldn't dream of it!" Said Luke as he picked up his bag. "Come on then, I want to go to sleep early. I want to get a fresh start in the morning!"

Luke and Layton went into the car and drove back home. As they were driving, they stopped at a red light. As Layton was waiting for it to turn green, he looked out his window and saw to little kids playing by a tree, one a boy, the other a girl. Layton was so transfixed on them that he didn't notice the light turn green until someone honked there horn.

"Come on!" Said the annoyed driver, "I don't have time for this!"

Layton jerked his attention back onto the road and proceeded to drive again.

"Are you alright professor?" asked Luke.

"Yes…I'm quite all right. I was just.. remembering old times is all."

Luke wasn't buying the fact that he was alright. He thought that he must be remembering the tragedy that happen, "It's better that I don't bother him" Said Luke in his head.

But inside Layton's head was something more than just a thought.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 8, 2011)

@ Personuser: I love the types of stories you have posted so far. I never guessed who the characters you posted were until the very end. Great Job, and welcome to the Guild. 
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





@ KirbyBoy: I always like your style, and the second story is a very good start. Keep it up, and welcome to the Guild.


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jun 8, 2011)

I'm not too sure if I'm a writer or reviewer. (I'm sorta both)

*Writer Application:*

KingdomBlade.
Short Sketching, Aphorisms, some Poetry.
English and my native language, and I consider English to be number 1 along with my native.
Nearly everyday.
Every so often.
Here are a few links to my shorts: http://gbatemp.net/t283965-short-story and http://gbatemp.net/t292719-story-minutes-to-midnight
And some aphorisms: http://gbatemp.net/t285525-aphorisms

*Reviewer Application:*

KingdomBlade.
English and my native language, and I consider English to be number 1 along with my native.
Nearly everyday.
Every so often.
If you mean all reviews (games, systems and maybe movies), it would be around 10.
HM: SI : http://gbatemp.net/index.php?showtopic=194220
An indie game: http://gbatemp.net/index.php?showtopic=289739
And (although it's not necessary) a movie review: http://gbatemp.net/index.php?showtopic=282448
Here's a link to most of the reviews I've already written: http://wiki.gbatemp.net/wiki/KingdomBlade#Reviews


----------



## Sterling (Jun 8, 2011)

@KingdomBlade: You can be both! In fact I actually recommend that anyone who has successfully reviewed things, also become a writer as well. Same for writers who have not yet hone reviewing skills. You do great reviews, and your short stories are also fascinating. Might I suggest that in your next review, look a bit deeper into the core gameplay, especially if the game is a sequel. Keep a reviewer's score as well. Many people who enjoy the same type of game multiple times will pay more attention if you also give a score based upon how much you enjoyed a particular game. You're doing great reviews and writing fascinating short stories. Keep up the good work, and welcome to the Guild.


----------



## Recorderdude (Jun 8, 2011)

Once I've done my review for Dissidia: Final Fantasy Duodecim for my local paper, I'll show it to you and become a reviewer then, I guess. I'll have to PM you a link to it though because the stories are printed ONLY on their site (and they made that quite clear) and linking to it here could very well be considered advertising. Note, though, that my newspaper reviews will be geared more towards an average reader than an avid gamer like the majority of us here at temp, as that's what I have to do for the reviewing.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 8, 2011)

Nice. Alright here we go.


*Writer Application*

Current/Previous Usernames: Shinigami357
Area of expertise: I pretty much write anything, really. Stories take a bulk of my time, though.
Language: I learned Filipino first, but I consider English my best language.
Level of Activity: I'm here mostly everyday
How I write: As often as is humanly possible [i.e. when my head's clear]

Sample:

This is Chapter 1 of my currently-in-hiatus horror story. Hopefully the formatting gets through... [scratch that, I'll format it on BB-code instead]



Spoiler



- Sloth -​
My story begins the evening when I sought out The Doctor, as I soon sought out six others. For him, the whole ordeal was rather short, but I think he took the lesson to heart. Or whatever passes for a heart in his case, as he had none.

…

He knew that the woman standing by the doorway would be a nuisance as soon as he saw her rushing toward his office. Years and years of practicing medicine had brought him the experience to identify the annoying ones.  The woman with her hair unkempt, her wild, bloodshot eyes, and worst of all, those clothes she was wearing. He knew a hospital was hardly a fashionable place, but surrounded by the four white walls, the rather impressive rug and various other furnishings in his office, he thought she would at least try to look decent for an appointment with a top surgeon. That’s when she started shouting at him.

“You killed him! You could have operated on him sooner and he’d still be alive!” The Doctor was taken aback as the woman’s raving continued; he had not expected security to have allowed someone like her in.

Before anything could get worse - _‘what if she suddenly turned violent?’_ - he pressed a button on the phone and within a minute three guards shuffled in. They quickly restrained the madwoman, and proceeded to drag her out. As she was getting dragged out of the door, she shouted at him, “Give him back! Give me back my son!” One of the guards closed the door with muttered apologies.

The Doctor was just about ready to leave when his phone rang. His lawyer was on the other line, which meant he was probably not going to like what he was going to hear. “Yes, hello.”
“Good evening, Doctor. I apologize for the intrusion, but it seems you have a little problem. Nothing we can’t take care of, I’m sure.” Goodness, the greedy fool was smelling cash, but there was really no other option, was there?
“I see. What is it this time? I have dinner planned tonight, please make this as brief as possible.” _‘You’d probably bill me for this little chat, too,’_ he thought.
“Well, Doctor, a woman has filed a malpractice suit against you. She says you were late for her son’s surgery and feels that if you had arrived earlier, he would have survived. It is completely ridiculous, of course.” That at least explained who that woman was. He remembered now.
“She expects a little boy whose brain had skull fragments imbedded all over it to survive if I had operated 5 minutes earlier? It was a small wonder he wasn’t announced DOA. Just take care of it. The woman probably wants to settle anyway. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up, shaking his head at the lengths people go through to leech other people’s hard-earned cash.

He was turning toward the door when he saw her. A girl, probably no more than sixteen or seventeen, long blonde hair, dressed in what looked like black robes; he noted that she was barefoot. He did not remember hearing the door open, and indeed it was closed behind the girl who was looking straight up at him.
“Good evening little girl. What are you doing here? Are you lost?”
“No, sir. You are. But I can take care of that.” Her expression does not at all change as she says this; in fact, she looked serene, as though in a world of her own.
“Uh-huh, I see. Well, let’s go find a guard and start looking for your parents then.” _‘I’d prefer to send you straight to the psych wards, though,’_ he thought. He reached for the door, giving the girl as wide a berth as is humanly possible, when she spoke again.
“Sloth. That’s you. A small kid, his skull cracked in 2 places, fragments imbedded in his brain. So much blood, so much pain and suffering and he died because you didn’t get there in time. You didn’t even plan on being there in time, did you? How can someone who swore an oath to save human lives be so utterly lazy?”
“What? I- I don’t know what you are talking about. You’re raving mad. I’m calling the guards.” He was shaken, but slowly he was figuring it all out. This girl must be an accomplice of that madwoman from before. _‘How dare they do this to me,’_ he thought.
“Sloth, have you ever thought what it would be like to have to work for your every breath? For each beat your heart takes? Surely a person like you, who cuts corners, watches the very people he swore to help die from his sloth and incompetence and thinks nothing of it, and worst of all denies any knowledge of his sins, deserves to find out. I hope your will to live is stronger than your will to keep someone alive, Sloth, or your sins will end up devouring you completely.” This strange pronouncement done, she started to turn towards the door.

The Doctor was still baffled, unable to speak or move from his spot as the girl opened the door. Suddenly, his chest seized up. Such pain! His heart was throbbing, as though it was being squeezed, and he found himself unable to breathe. He collapsed, and at the sound, the girl turned around and looked at him. “Help…” he desperately tried to say.
“Sloth, take your punishment. As you have brought about your evil upon others, let it be brought down on you,” said the girl as she turned around, ignoring the fallen man behind her, and vanished as she reached the door.
The Doctor, his nails turning purple, his blood pressure plummeting and his heart rate at a steady zero, mustered up all his energy and forced himself to breath. Miraculously, his diaphragm responded, and oxygen was pumped into his lungs, but he was still getting no response from his heart. Panic flooded his mind, his vision darkened and all his pain and suffering disappeared.

…

The hospital was abuzz with the news the very next morning. The Doctor was found by an intern, collapsed just inside his office, his vitals all indicating that he had died. They were surprised when his body responded to repeated attempts at revival, though that had brought about such an unbelievable medical malady none of the doctors would have believed it. Surely a healthy person’s vital organs didn’t suddenly refuse to work involuntarily? As they monitored his condition and studied him, he was left in the ICU, strapped to an assortment of medical equipment, nearly three-quarters of which was needed just to keep him alive.

He had told them a bizarre - and likely made up - story about a girl who had more or less condemned him to this fate due to his laziness. That he was lazy, none of his colleagues would deny, but really, who believed in curses anymore?



That's it. I considered adding chapter 2, but it's too long [and the formatting will take me an hour] and it's a bit too OTT...


----------



## Raika (Jun 8, 2011)

*Writer Application:*

Raika
Stories (mostly dark themed)
English
Online everyday
Rarely, depends on my mood

Sample (randomly came up with this one when I was replying to this thread, so it isn't exactly great):


Spoiler



The silence was stifling. Kyle's panting was heavy, and his legs felt like lead. Would he be able to make it out? His mind wandered, a futile attempt at distracting himself. His situation was dire, and he knew it. He had to survive, he was the only one left, he could not afford to die. His fallen comrades were counting on him, and should he fail, their deaths would have been in vain. Strengthening his resolve, Kyle was about to resume his escape, but his heart sank when he heard three voices. They were getting closer, their footsteps echoing across the hallway.

"That damn brat couldn't have gotten far, he's going to get it later."

"This is all just a worthless farce. Even if he gets out of here, who the hell would believe what he says?"

"Once we get _that_ back, we're as good as the Gods of this realm."

Not daring to breathe, Kyle took in what he heard silently. It was hard to accept it, but he knew that what they were saying were true. Clutching his chest, he knew that he only had one chance to escape. And that chance was slim to begin with, if he messed up, it would be over. Brushing his long fringe to the right instead of his usual left parting, Kyle waited, while his brain whirred into action, planning his course of action.

"Hey, come out here already you foolish kid! My pizza's gonna get cold, and you know very well what'll happen if I don't have my pizza piping hot!" A rough voice called out.

"There's this thing called a microwave oven, Charles, or are you still living in the Stone Age? Oh wait, maybe you are, with that ragged appearance of yours." A high-pitched voice retorted.

"Harsh as ever, Hilda. Your words sting, a refined lady like yourself should refrain from speaking in this manner." A smooth voice replied coolly.

"Shut up and search already, fools!  The sooner we get our hands on _it_ the better. Hilda, you look in the storage room, Justin, you search the toilets, and I'll take the classrooms. He's stuck on this floor, no matter how you look at it." The rough voice of the man called Charles roared across the entire floor.

Ignoring the urgency of the situation, a plan started to formulate in Kyle's mind. It could work... No, it had to work. Gritting his teeth, Kyle closed his eyes, his entire body starting to reflect his current state of mind. His breath was still, body relaxed, resting till the time was right. As a set of footsteps drew closer, Kyle took in a deep breath. He was ready. The second the door opened, he reacted instinctively. His body felt light, as he jumped high into the air. 

What happened next was a blur, it all happened so quickly that Kyle didn't have the time to comprehend the situation. His timing was perfect, he had landed on the shoulders of Charles's muscular body, and using his entire body weight, he dragged the stunned Charles backwards, as they crashed onto the cold, hard hallway of the Mors Mortis Highschool.



THIS IS A COUPLET POEM I WROTE:


Spoiler



Giant boobies, my favorite kind
I sniff pink panties all the time


----------



## Domination (Jun 8, 2011)

1. Domination... I think.
2. Eh I think picking one area of expertise will just stifle my creativity, I'm leaving my options open you know, so I can be "Dommy the poet" one day and "Dommy the second  JK Rowling" some other day.
3. Mandarin I guess. English second? I only know 2 languages. But both of them got A2's in my GSCE O Levels so I think they are of the same standard. And yeah because I learn English English, so I have u's in my "colors".
4. Depends on my mood, us artistic and creative people are moody you know. Normally everyday, but I just AFK though and chat with friends on the shoutbox sometimes, so I'm not sure it counts.
5. Write what? I'm still attending school, so yeah, almost everyday of the week?
6.


Spoiler



"Wha... what?" I groaned as I slowly opened my eyes. But it was a painful process because my eyes were experiencing excruciating pain from the vicious assault of the photon particles. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally managed to yank those two bastards open. What I saw wasn't exactly pretty though. I was sitting on a hill, and the hill was full of dead bodies. Burning bodies, rotting bodies, human corpses, animal carcasses, you name it. It was like a brutal war between humans and animals and I was smack in the middle of it. 

What happened next shocked me even more... As I "stood up", I realised I couldn't actually "stand up"! I was shocked and confused and I looked at my legs(or rather, the space where my legs used to be), they weren't there. I tried to reach out my hand to touch the floor, I didn't have hands either. It was bizarre, it was confusing, I was experiencing a panic attack. My head was swirling with questions like "Why am I here?" "What happened to my body?" "Will I ever see my family again?" "When is the next Dream Theater album coming out?" And "where's the closest Burger King's store?".

While lost in thought, something sneaked up behind me, and tapped me on my shoulder. I turned around and I saw a human-sized earthworm with eyes, ears, a nose and a mouth! I was flabbergasted! What an atrocity! I quickly edged away from it and somehow it edged away from me too! Then I realised... I wasn't looking at a worm. I was looking into a mirror! I WAS A GIANT DISGUSTING WORM THING! The shock was too much for me. I was almost passing out, when I saw the worm thing, me, moving closer. How did that happen? 

What happened next shocked me even more. A deep and coarse voice boomed at me. It said: "Hey young man, don't you be scared!" I looked up, towards the source of the voice. There was a human head stuck onto the top of the mirror, and it looked like my grandfather's head! This was too much for me to bear... I couldn't take it anymore... I just wanted to die... Thousands of thoughts raced through my head and I blacked out. It might have just been 5 minutes since I woke up but the trauma was overbearing. I fell onto the ground with a heavy thud, vulnerable, weak and slimy like a worm. I felt I was going to die at the hands(I think?) of the mirror with a human head, but I couldn't give a rat's ass anymore...



Some serious children's fantasy/adventure.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 8, 2011)

@Shinigami357: Quite a beginning for ch. 1. Perhaps a small paragraph to set the scene would be good. The main thing was that it was greatly interesting. I could not pull my eyes from the text. Hope you finish the novel, and welcome to the Guild!

@Raika: For someone who wrote in a hurry, you have a very good premise and base for a nice story. I'm kinda interested in what he took, or prevented someone from getting. I hope you continue to create great impromptu stories and hilarious couple poems (I love boobies myself). Welcome to the Guild Raika!.

@Domination: Odd, for some reason the story reminds me of Alice and Wonderland. Possibly because of the mystery behind a few of the characters you've already introduced. Keep up the good work, and I would be disappointed if you didn't write more. Welcome to the Guild Dommy!


----------



## Sterling (Jun 9, 2011)

Sorry for the double post, but the OP has been updated with some info that the GBAtemp Writers' Guild and other members of the forum may have interest in.


----------



## Edgedancer (Jun 9, 2011)

Well here is my application. Fingers crossed I get accepted.

Current User Name: Edgedancer
Area of Expertise: Short Narratives, Poetry and Screenplays
Which language was your first: English is my primary language
How often are you active here at GBAtemp? Every single day. Usually not active (ie posting) but I do browse a lot.
How often do you write? I am not writing too much at the moment. That said, I am always mulling ideas around in my head and thinking of stuff.
Sample of your work: Well you already have 2 stories by me, but here is another short one.

Hiding in the shadows
(Another older story by me. I will start posting some of my new stuff later on)


Spoiler



I dart around a corner and delve underneath a low awning, beckoning the shadows to hide me. I knew these streets well and knew that there was no hiding place from someone that is determined to find you. 
I know that you can stall it but not stop it. I know this because it was my home.
I slow down my breathing with difficulty. In and out. In and out. It took a while and although I may have slowed down my breathing my heart was pounding like a jackhammer and I swear it was loud enough that it should be heard from a street away.
I press myself tightly against the wall in a low crouch willing myself to become part of the wall. My mottled-grey coat helped me break up my silhouette to make me harder to see and embraced the shadows for any help it will give.
I stand absolutely still, knowing that any movement right now could betray me. My moving may dislodge any number of items, trash, stones, water, causing them to sound out in an attempt to alert my followers. And even if they are not looking directly at me, their peripherals would be even better to catch a quick glimpse of something that isn’t quite right. Damn peripherals!
I turn my gaze outwards from my shadowy embrace. My eyes are constantly moving, scanning the ground in-front of me. I see everything but my head never moves. Practice has taught me the benefits of seeing but no seeing.
But my ears are what I am placing the most value in. They are listening for sounds that may reveal a threat.
Drain pipes.
Footsteps.
Cars.
Dull chatter.
These are the sounds I know. This brings me comfort. Anything else and I would have to make a choice. Run and hope my swift feet carry me away from my pursuers or stay where I am and pray my years of learning to remain unnoticed will keep me hidden.
I stand still for god knows how long. I can feel a rock in the bottom of my shoe and I have a massive desire to remove it but I know that it would be a reckless act. By submitting once to the irritation, it would simply make it easier to convince myself that I should remove any further aggravations. And no matter how quietly I could remove the pebble, it would be the movement itself that would give me away. I just grit my teeth and put up with it.
Almost as soon as I make that decision not to act, I know it has paid off. I hear footsteps pounding down the pavement mere meters from me. Had I been removing the pebble from my shoe, I would have definitely been found.
That said, some sixth sense seemed to tell him that someone was hiding there. His steps faltered and slowed and I see him cautiously enter the alleyway and cast his eyes around. I see him looking carefully and knew that he believed that his prey was nearby. He cast his eyes directly over me and found that I was staring into his eyes. They were kind and gentle enough but I knew they were looking for me and I knew exactly what he was going to do if he caught me.
Any movement now would be fatal. Even lowering my eyes could cause a small involuntary movement of the head. That would be all that it would take to find me. I could close my eyes but I couldn’t. I just kept staring.
He started moving slowly in my direction, though I was confident that he didn’t know I was here... yet. 
Suddenly a bin 20 meters up the alley from me toppled, scattering garbage everywhere. It was probably knocked over by some stray cat or dog but I saw it as a gift from god. My pursuer got distracted and glanced up at the bin and in doing so, destroying his concentration. He cast a single glance back into my web of shadows and departed up the alley, running away in pursuit of who he believed was the maker of that sound.
Me.
I suddenly felt tightness in my chest and realised that I had been instinctively holding my breath. I exhale and the pressure recedes. The footsteps have departed into the distance now and though I was sure he wasn’t too far away, I was confident that I was safe for a little while. I reasoned that he wouldn’t check the same area for at least another 15 minutes or so.
The pebble in my shoe quickly becomes apparent again. Still pleased with my previous success, I take this opportunity to reward myself. I feel the relief as my foot comes free of the shoe. I wriggle my toes and shake the shoe upside down to remove the pebble.
I am putting my shoe back on and moving back into my hiding spot when I hear a person yell “GOTCHA!”
My head spins and I look exactly like a deer caught in the headlights of an unfortunate car. Standing a mere 30 meters away is my stalker. He must have doubled back to see if I made a stupid mistake... which I had. I fell right into his trap and if I had had more time, I would have berated myself for making such a rookie mistake. As it turned out, I didn’t so I did the only thing I could think of.
I bolt. 
He pursues. 
We run up the alley and onto the street. A crowd of people greet us on the street, glancing at us, occasionally shouting profanities, as we barge our way through them. I manage to slowly increase the distance between us as I weave through the masses but I know it cannot last. When I escaped previously, I had a larger lead and a good break in the traffic. 
I knew that my running was only delaying the inevitable. I was going to be caught. I am already panting, my feet throb and my knees are sore. I desperately try to keep up the pace but I can feel myself slowing. I know that he is unarmed but he won’t need a weapon if he catches me and it’s only a matter of time. 
Despite the fact I was about to be caught, I smiled. In a way it would be a relief. I had been waiting for this all day and was glad it was finally over.

After all... it was only a game of tag.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 9, 2011)

@Edgedancer: You didn't have to cross your fingers man. You've already blown me away several times with your work. So, uncross your fingers and step into the Guild.


----------



## Edgedancer (Jun 10, 2011)

Sterling said:
			
		

> @Edgedancer: You didn't have to cross your fingers man. You've already blown me away several times with your work. So, uncross your fingers and step into the Guild.


Thanks for that. I hope I will become a productive member of this little group (as of now). Writing is such a great outlet for talking about your issues or giving a point, or at least thats how I use it. If you need help with coming up with ideas for tasks to stimulate the guild (if thats what you are looking for), I have quite a few tasks and activities that I have done in my study that probably could be applicable.

For anyone that wants some help with revisions or editing, give me a hit up, as thats probably the best way I can help out in regards to this guild.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 10, 2011)

Edgedancer said:
			
		

> Sterling said:
> 
> 
> 
> ...


I'll take you up on that offer later, but for now, we'll stick with small challenges on a weekly basis (current one is a wiki project).

When the guild gets a little bigger, I was thinking about Guild maintained stories. Like a horror story written by several members. It might be an interesting collaboration, or a disaster if the writing styles don't mix well enough. (Obviously not limited to the horror genre by the way)

Also, I was thinking a couple story contests every now and then. With prizes like Flash carts, or small gifts from DX. It's a work in progress, but I have a feeling this Guild will be big in no time.


----------



## Edgedancer (Jun 10, 2011)

@Sterling
Fair enough. I wasnt expecting anything to happen for the next little while anyway. Your ideas sound good for the type of group we will probably be. If you ever need any help with anything guild related, just send me a PM


----------



## Zaertix (Jun 10, 2011)

I have a good story. I think you all know how it goes. I'll work on writing it out without the swearing


----------



## Sterling (Jun 10, 2011)

Zaertix said:
			
		

> I have a good story. I think you all know how it goes. I'll work on writing it out without the swearing


As long as the swearing isn't every other word, you should be fine. However, if they aren't "tasteful" curse words, it's for the better. Can't wait to read it.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 11, 2011)

Here is a short story I just wrote. You guys may enjoy it.



Spoiler



*Tick* *Tock* *Tick* *Tock*

The clock's familiar noise filled the room. I sat there in a chair, contemplating, bleeding. Lost in the sound of ever progressing time. Everything outside and inside is dark. The screams outside intensified. People beating at the door. There was nothing I could do for them. Even myself I could not save. I saw a wisp rise from my chest. When it formed completely, I saw myself. I was heavily scarred, burdened even. Weighed down by the woes and torments of a man who has noting left to lose at the end of the world. My soul could not take flight. It was so heavy, it was falling. It's lips moved, and I heard myself say, "Let it go." How could I. I could never forgive myself. The lips moved again, "It's not your fault." It's all my fault. There was never anyone else to take the blame. My soul continued to fall. It was going faster, but it continued to try and convince me with it's remaining will. My life was flashing before my eyes. Even the burning 747 that crashed through the ceiling could not break my trance. Even the blaze that consumed everything around me could not break it. My wife, children. All dead because of my poor choices. I'm dying alone tonight because of my bullheadedness. I deserve to rot in Hell for the things I've done. Suddenly, I saw more hallucinations. Apparitions of the unrestful dead. They took the form of my Wife's kind eyes, and my small children clutching the hem of her dress. They nodded at me, then the fast fading wisp trailing from my chest. I looked at them, then at my soul. I realized that they forgive me. I realized that the only person who doesn't is myself. This fleeting thought was peaceful. I gave one last sigh before my body's consciousness faded, and my soul fluttered past my unseeing eyes. The last sound that filled my ears was the sound of the clock. Ticking away without a care in the world.


----------



## Edgedancer (Jun 12, 2011)

@ Sterling - Thats certainly an interesting piece of micro-fiction you have there Sterling. With only 3 hours of sleep under my belt, I will have to come back to try and look a little deeper, but the premise of someone looking for redemption is certainly explored well in this story. I see a lot of myself in this writing, as in the style and subject matter is something I would probably approach. More than anything, you really nailed the short sentences in this story, and this helped to set the mood quite well. "Apparitions of the unrestful dead" was probably my favourite one and I may just have to steal it.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 12, 2011)

Sweet. It took me around 10 minutes to write after my cat insisted on waking me up this morning. Glad you like it. Have fun with the unrestful dead.


----------



## Edgedancer (Jun 12, 2011)

In response to Sterling's previous story, here is my own one that is quite similar. Again, it was created when I was talking myself into taking action for my girlfriend. Its not so much a story, more of a musing that I wrote.

Life is like a game of Russian Roulette



Spoiler



Life is like a game of Russian roulette. Imagine the gun being your mind and the bullets every significant decision you make. Every pull of the trigger could be your last. It may take five tries, it may take five-hundred but eventually you luck is going to run out and your world will collapse. 
Some may survive, never pulling the fateful trigger but never taking the chance could mean you’re dead already, destined to fade like a Polaroid photograph, into obscurity with nothing of importance to lay claim to. 
It’s the thrill of the game that’s life to provide the temptation to test yourself but those that play should be aware of the risks. 
It’s a rule that has been passed down since the dawn of man; the concept of equilibrium. We know this under many guises but the one most are familiar with would be “Yin and Yang,” in which some evil exists inside all good and some good exists inside all evil. Another guise is karma, in which you good and bad actions will reward and punish you, respectively.
This notion extends itself into our life choices. With every leap of faith we make, we must accept that there is a chance that the ground will slip from underneath our feet and we will fall. But we accept these risks as necessary as, without the chance of failure our world as we know it would cease. 
It reminds us that we are alive.
But firing this ‘bullet’ need not be the end of life as we know it. Like the mythological phoenix, humans can be reborn from the remains of their former selves. We cast of the shackles of our dead exterior and walk the earth as a new person. By committing ourselves to an irrevocable path, we run the risk of self-destruction but also enlightenment.
So many people play this deadly game daily, not realising what we are doing until it has happened. It can be as simple as speeding down a road. It could be giving away your heart. We never know what is around the corner but its the thrill of the unknown that gives humans their passions. How can we know who do give our hearts to unless we take a leap of faith. There is every chance it won’t be reciprocated, but without actually trying, you will be left with memories filled with regrets.
So I ask you, when the time comes, will you pull the trigger?


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jun 12, 2011)

60 SECONDS​


Spoiler: 60 SECONDS



1 Flashing images.
2 A baby in a stroller.
3 A burning apartment building.
4 A worn down motel.
5 Police sirens.
6 A detention center where everyone screams.
7 A reform school.
8 The street, with blood rolling on my face, and cowards running away.
9 My father touching me.
10 Mutilating myself.
11 Losing weight.
12 Losing my virginity to the wrong man.
13 Going out with a friend.
14 Drinking all night.
15 Getting into a car accident.
16 Spending 5 days in jail.
17 Being offered coke.
18 Trying coke, and trying another, and another.
19 Gambling my money.
20 Looking for a job.
21 Obtaining a job as a cafeteria lunch lady.
22 Losing the job.
23 Mutilating myself.
24 Desperately looking for a job.
25 Picking up a piece of paper on the floor.
26 Winning the lottery.
27 Immediate success.
28 Buying a condominium.
29 Buying a car.
30 Going into rehab.
31 Starting a small business.
32 Finding more friends.
33 Being set up on a blind date.
34 Hating the blind date.
35 Meeting a woman on the street and became friends.
36 Realizing what I really am.
37 Kissing the woman.
38 Marrying the woman.
39 Adopting a child.
40 The child going to school for the first time.
41 The child winning his basketball game.
42 A vacation to Japan.
43 A plane crashing.
44 A funeral.
45 Business failing.
46 Drugs and alcohol.
47 Shutting down business.
48 Gambling all savings.
49 Losing hope in everything.
50 Going to the top of the building where our office was.
51 Stairs.
52 More stairs.
53 Clouds in the sky.
54 A bird shitting on next to me.
55 A picture in my pocket.
56 A window.
57 More windows.
58 Screaming people.
59 The sidewalk.
60 Darkness.


COMMENTS? INSPIRED BY SOMETHING I CAN'T REMEMBER.​


----------



## Sterling (Jun 12, 2011)

Hmm, what was that about? Someone's life flashing before their eyes?


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jun 12, 2011)

Sterling said:
			
		

> Hmm, what was that about? Someone's life flashing before their eyes?


Yep.

It's pretty bland, but I was just bored and didn't think it through that much.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 12, 2011)

@Sterling - Loved it. Deep, thought-provoking and paced just right. I loved the way that the beginning and the end in particular focus on the same thing: the ticking clock. In the beginning, it was a way to show that time is going forward regardless of what happens next [or running out, in this case, which is all the more powerful]. At the end it symbolizes not just the ending, but also that time has run out - the character's decisions are irrevocable, and whatever peace and solace he finds, will come with the fact that he never forgave himself.

@Edgedancer - That was deep thinking... Hmmm...

@KindomBlade - Wow. Um, that's quite a ride for 60 seconds. It hits you, too. Like 60 times a minute.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 12, 2011)

Spoiler



I've walked through my life on my own. I have walked a beat of solidarity. Forever alone. There was hope that it wouldn't always be like this, however as my head dipped beneath the water of the merciless ocean, that hope was almost gone. There was very little strength in my limbs. The bullets that rent my body ensured that. The red stain creeped up my back slowly and melded with the salt water. The stinging pain mixed with regret and unfulfilled aspirations was a void in my heart. My final efforts to keep afloat only succeeded in reminding me that my single file foot steps in the beach were already fading. Wiped out by the torrent of the world, the waves of never ending time. As the salt and water blinded me and the last of my strength faded. I make an effort to recall one mark that I will be remembered by. That effort did nothing, just like me. I sunk into the bitter deep of the gray and lonely ocean filled with regret, anguish, and pain. The life of a loner, ends alone. Forever alone.



I like this one too.

Added more detail and stuff.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 13, 2011)

I move we convene and agree on a tagline/catchphrase/motto. Or something... 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	





@Sterling - Why is everyone writing dark stuff? I feel sooo left out... Gotta write one, too...
[goes off to write]


----------



## Sterling (Jun 13, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:
			
		

> I move we convene and agree on a tagline/catchphrase/motto. Or something...
> 
> 
> 
> ...


Do you have any ideas?

Dark stuff is morbidly fun to write. What do you think of them so far?


----------



## Edgedancer (Jun 13, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:
			
		

> I move we convene and agree on a tagline/catchphrase/motto. Or something...
> 
> 
> 
> ...


Well in an effort to lighten the mood, here is one of my few forays into comedic writing.

Class War


Spoiler



The bell rang, heralding the start of their respite from class. They stood, ready to leave the room.
“Fellow comrades,” intoned Felix, class spokesperson. “I beg of you not to partake in the bounty of your lunchbox freely. For we are but simple fifth years, attempting to savour the freedom of the playground for a single hour. Think not of your food for that shall keep; think not of the study for that is after school. Think of the freedom that comes with the simple act of running, jumping and laughing.
“And if you give me your trust, I shall lead forth and do all within my power to fulfil you innate desire for joy. Reconnaissance Officer Shaun, have there been any recent developments that will inhibit my compatriots and me from enjoying ourselves.”
Shaun took a single step forward and said clearly and succinctly, “No General! There is nothing of note to mention!”
Felix strode towards him and placed a hand on his back. “Ahh. That’s what I wanted to hear. Men, single file behind me and we shall proceed to our destiny.”
“Yes sir!” the class shouted and made a line.
They left the room promptly, moving in time like the wizened veterans they were. It all proceeded smoothly until several silhouettes appear in the doorway, barring them.
Uncertainly, the fifth year brigand faltered in their steps but Felix quickly took the lead.
“Who are you to bar us from our freedom? I ask that you stand aside or tell us who you are acting under!”
“You are in no position to be making demands,” a smooth voice replied, the centre shadow stepping forward to show his face.
“Marcus the Sixth. I should have known,” replied Felix. “Will you stand aside?”
“You know the way I wish to be addressed. Don’t believe that just because in 3 months time I will be gone and you will take my place, I will stand for such insubordination!” spat Marcus. “And for too long I have put up with it. It is time you were taught a lesson.”
Instantly, the sixth battalion strode forward and Felix knew he couldn’t back down.
“Men, I promised you recess but this is the price we pay for such freedom. To glory!”
And with that, two powers clashed outside of the English rooms. An orgy of wedgies, wet willies and Indian burns took place, leaving no side unscathed. Bodies from both sides fell and moaned as they cradled their injuries.
Felix pulled himself up and propped himself against the wall, looking at the scene before him.
“What happened here!” boomed a voice.
Felix turned and saw the unrivalled power of Derwent elementary.
The Prinicipal.



And we can totally do a tagline. Here are some ideas off the top of my head;
- Our pens are never silent
- Creating our own worlds
- Something inspirational


----------



## Sterling (Jun 13, 2011)

I totally smiled. Haha.

-Defeating Nazis, one ink at a time. (Kudos to whoever gets the reference).
-Final product, somewhere you've never been.
-I'm [insert username here]. Come with me through the pages.
-The Pagemaster ain't got nothing on us.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 14, 2011)

The one I can think of at the top of my head:
Our words - Different worlds


Or something...


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jun 14, 2011)

We like writing. Watcha gonna do about it?

With my mighty pen (or keyboard) I hereby declare that this Guild is fucking epic.

A, B, C, D, Z, oh wait, that's wrong. Join here to find out what's right.


----------



## Domination (Jun 14, 2011)

Was trying to write a dystopian-ish story, but it turned out kinda crappy... The plot is weak, progression is weak, characters are weak, dialogue is weak, etc etc.
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




 But still I thought it would be a waste to just chuck this story into the recycle bin. 


Spoiler



It was the year 2146, and I was running through the streets of a small town in Kansas. It was snowing heavily and I was finding it hard to navigate through the confusing town streets, but if I stopped I would be dead. They were catching up, I could hear them. Hundreds men marching together, their heavy and hostile stomping echoing through the chillingly empty streets. Men. This was an all-male town.

Why were they pursuing me, you ask? To kill me. Why did they want to kill me? You see, I was a heterosexual. Heterosexuality was abnormal in 22nd century USA. Heterosexuality was outlawed, no two humans of different genders were to be married. Sexual intercourse between humans of different genders was frowned upon too. These were strictly enforced laws that carried heavy penalties: Both of them warranted death sentences. 

And I was a female from UK, where heterosexuality was still considered the social norm. Me and my husband were having our honeymoon at a tourist hotspot nearby. And they discovered us two making love in the town inn. We thought it would be ok and no one would find us out. My husband was already captured by the enraged townsfolk, and now they were coming for me at full throttle. 

Oh fuck. A dead end. How timely.

"Well, well. Hello there... Filthy woman! Raise your hands in the air and turn around!" I raised my hands and slowly turned around. I locked eyes with a middle aged brunette. 

"Heh. What do you think you were doing, woman?"

"Erm, consumating my marriage with my lawfully wedded husband?"  I replied while trying to emphasise on my British accent.

"Foreigners eh? That's no excuse. You are in USA now, so you have to follow our rules. And heterosexuality is punishable by death!" 

Just as I was about to open my mouth and reply him, I heard a loud explosion, followed by a searing pain at my waist and. I was shot! The pain was overbearring, so overbearring that I lost all my strength and all my consciousness of the surroundings immediately. I fell onto my knees while clutching my wound. I was shivering because of the stubborn snowstorm but my wound was burning.

I thought to myself "If only we didn't come to the USA for our honeymoon! Its all Richard's fault! I told him it'll turn out this way, but he said it'll be ok! What did we do to deserve this? What is wrong with being a hetero-" I heard another loud sound and felt a searing pain at my right breast.



As for the tagline:

-We only write better stories than you!

-A.K.A. The Mnistry of Motherfucking Good Writers.

-We liek turtles... and writing.

lol Cant really think of anything. Tag lines are hard to create.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 14, 2011)

@Dommy: Damn straight (pun intended). I see where you were going with your story, and in the past I've had many projects turn out like that. Return to it later, and you might be able to finish it.

Based off of Shinigami357's
-Your World, and our World are worlds apart.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 15, 2011)

This is Latin, but whatevs...

scribendo cogito - think by writing


----------



## Devin (Jun 15, 2011)

Reviewer:

Sora1234/RoxasIsSora/Devin
Medium Stories, unless I'm really in depth with it.
English, currently learning Spanish.
I visit GBAtemp.net everyday.
I pretty much write, when something interesting comes up.

Lets see.

PSP Custom Theme Guide
PSP Cheat Guide
Super Nyan-Cat Zombie Jesus Survival Guide
Pokemon Soul Silver GamePlay
Wii The Conduit Debug Menu
GBAtemp Giveaway
EzDLC Item Creator Demo 
GBA Tuner Video


I'm pretty sure I'm missing a lot of other examples, but the above links will lead you to videos/guides/stories that should demonstrate, or give you a idea of my ability to write Reviews, and or make videos of said reviews. Since I made the videos, I have gotten a better camera. Now if only I knew how to get my iPhone 4 to stop showing border bars. Anyway, here's my application.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 15, 2011)

Writer Application

•Name:  Old8oy
•Expertise (if you can really call it that...):  Poetry/lyrics
•English is my primary language
•I visit regularly but don't post nearly as often as I used to
•I write whenever something comes to me.  Daily

Sample 1:


Spoiler



I need somewhere to place my faith
I need to escape this cold vacuum of life
And make my way to the furthest reaches of space
To walk into the sun and feel all of my fears and doubts burn away
I can’t do it alone, though I’ll still try
While I continue to wait for my saving light
For the radiance of a star yet to be born and still so bright
Its gravity keeps me grounded
Its luminance envelopes me
The cosmic masses and searing gases surround
But fail to dim this small celestial body
Its shine wakes my soul
Its heat warms my heart
I’ll put my faith in this tiny star
I’ll wish upon it
And let it burn away all of my fears and doubts



Sample 2:


Spoiler



If patience is a virtue I have a serious deficiency
I can’t see the right or wrong, only the shades of gray in between
It’s time to go to that other place
Where light and dark never touch, where the clock has no face
Where the solace of oceans and crashing waves
Meets the cool breath of wind and the trees she sways
Where the space of the days
Outlasts the pace of our plays
For love, affection, and other clichés
Where the games lose their charm
And the moments replay
And the need for an answer so easily fades
When impatience persists, I’ll close my eyes and breathe
And follow the gray where it lay among the lives and the dreams


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 15, 2011)

Writer's Application:

Shyam513 (always has been)
My writing focuses on Narratives, with the occasional bit of poetry thrown in
English is my third, but I've been speaking it since I was six, so it's almost flawless.
I'm fairly active on Gbatemp, but prefer to read rather than comment
I try and write a little of one of my stories everyday.

As for a sample of my work, it's avaliable for viewing here


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jun 15, 2011)

Current (and only) Username: Helloworld12321
Specialize in: Horror, Mystery, Romance, and Fantasy stories
English was my first language, Hindi/Punjabi came second
I visit GBAtemp about 5-10 times a day.
I work on my writing every day!
Sample


Spoiler



Small Prologue of my pending book: The doom is yet to come. A face, familiar to some. The unmistakable sounds of death. That sinister laugh, and nothing is left. Just darkness. Cold, evil, and overwhelming darkness as the horror begins.


I am 11 years old, BTW


----------



## Sterling (Jun 16, 2011)

@Old8oy: Excellent poetry! I'd love to have a proficient poet here, so welcome aboard!

@shyam513: I liked your story. Even if it's incomplete, you seem to have done a great job. I agree with the last comment though, and if you are published, direct me to where ever I could buy the book.

@helloworld12321: Before I add you to the writer's list, I will need to see more than the small prologue you have posted. Besides, if I recall correctly, the book in question is a collaboration between you an your class mates. I'll need you to post something that is undoubtedly written yourself.

Oh shit, I missed Devin. Give me a sec.

Youtube links are broken.


----------



## Nujui (Jun 16, 2011)

I'm gonna write something tomorrow and show it to ya guys, I've really haven't been writing as I haven't been motivated , now I have.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 16, 2011)

KirbyBoy said:
			
		

> I'm gonna write something tomorrow and show it to ya guys, I've really haven't been writing as I haven't been motivated , now I have.


No hurry, just whenever you feel like it. As long as you've been active in the past 6 months.

Also, a new challenge has been added to the OP, and if you completed, or already did last week's challenge, post it here.

IMPORTANT EDIT: I need all members to read the end of the OP.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 16, 2011)

Well, I'm no good at prose...  I have many ideas but can never quite articulate them...

So here's the song I've been working on the past few days:



Spoiler



*The Sun*

Lucid those whispers, close beside the grain
Echo in cold seasons till only warmth remains
Words just don’t exist to express the need
Forces of nature show us no mercy

Few and far between, lost collectively
The souls still linger, swaying in the breeze
Hope remains for all those left behind
But time can only pass when the sand has dried

We follow the sun
We rise and we fall at the speed the Earth spins, light never constant
We follow the sun until it sets and there’s nothing left but the memory

Few and far between, lost collectively
The souls still linger, swaying in the breeze
Hope remains for all those left behind
But time can only pass when the sand has dried

We follow the sun
We rise and we fall at the speed the Earth spins, light never constant
We follow the sun until it sets and there’s nothing left but the memory
We follow the sun until it sets and there’s nothing left but the memory
We follow the sun until it sets and there’s nothing left but the memory


----------



## Nujui (Jun 16, 2011)

Spoiler



Welcome to Flower Institute, you were randomly chosen to test our new "Flower" software, if you have any complaints, please say them now......we are sorry we had to use force to bring you here, though you did agree that we could when you signed the user agreement. If that is all complaints you have then let's get started. You will be put into 3 testing chambers, one of which will also have another randomly chosen tester. The test is simple, whoever survives the test chamber will go on to the next chamber, however, the one that doesn't survive will be a "Thanks for trying" sticker, and be will kicked out instantly.

So, without further ado... 

Survive. 

The door opens and light shines through.....


----------



## Sterling (Jun 16, 2011)

@Old8oy: I like it. If you finish it and add music, drop it here. It seems you have a great descriptive style. It really puts an image in your head.

@KirbyBoy: Sounds like a great beginning. Very, "Portalesque". I'm interested in seeing how it turns out.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 16, 2011)

Been working on my short story. As per usual, it's dark. 
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





Pleased with it so far, but am not sure if I can post it here...


----------



## Sterling (Jun 16, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:
			
		

> Been working on my short story. As per usual, it's dark.
> 
> 
> 
> ...


Your short story, or long story? If you need permission, send it to a mod, I'll bet they'll be happy to approve it. Probably better to send them an excerpt of the part you think is the worst.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 16, 2011)

Sterling said:
			
		

> @Old8oy: I like it. If you finish it and add music, drop it here. It seems you have a great descriptive style. It really puts an image in your head.



I have music, but I'm not much of a singer.  Any song lyrics I put up will have music that accompanies them as I always write them together.


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 16, 2011)

Finished my short story. It's serious, but fairly neutral in tone.

I'll post it as soon as I finish re-reading it for errors.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 16, 2011)

We're supposed to be writing a short story, right? [it's more of a one-shot kind of thing, though] It's a welcome distraction for me - my head's spinning with ideas.

I'll see how bad the content goes, and perhaps I'll decide dpending on that.


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 16, 2011)

Okay, scratch what I said earlier - As it seems everyone's working on dark stuff, I've gone and done a short, dark story. Bear in mind it's only a rough first draft, so feel free to suggest improvments.



Spoiler



The letter was smooth and silky between my fingers, the smooth, coffee-coloured manila envelope giving no indication of what the contents inside were. I looked up, into the smiling face of the man who had just delivered the envelope to me, who had his hand, with a pad of paper and a pen extended towards me, indicating that he wished me to sign. With a motion so well practised, it has almost become unconscious to me; I took the pen from him and slid it across the paper – my scrawl making a stark contrast to the cursive beauty of the last person who had signed. With one more tip of his hat and with an effusive “Have a nice day, sir,” the man departed, leaving me – no, the letter, behind – out of sight, and out of mind.

Once the man had left, I turned the envelope over in my hands, marvelling at its smoothness. Written on the other side, in the smooth, cursive handwriting I had seen on the pad, was my name, and address, blank and impersonal in the blue ink of a fountain pen. With a flick of my wrist, I tore open the envelope, exposing the white paper beneath. I unfurled the paper, and began to read.

Dear Mikhail, (the letter began,)
It's been 5 years since the last time I wrote to you, and in the time so much has happened. It was 10 years ago that you left us to try and find your own way in life. I wonder - how is life for you now? So many things have changed from when you were last here. You were only a child back then, so maybe you would not be able to remember, but...

I paused at this point, looking down at the scar that ran across the back of my hand - a gift from the person who had written this letter. I remembered everything perfectly, surprisingly enough. Everything they were going to say, I felt sure I would be able to remember as if they had only happened yesterday. Pulling myself out of this reverie, I drew my eyes back to letter, and continued to read.

…A couple of weeks ago, remember that boy you always used to play with? Alex, or something, wasn’t it? He left too, like you. I remember his mother being very distraught about it, and she was nearly in tears, the poor woman. She was constantly saying how she hoped he’d come back happily, maybe with a wife, and maybe with a child or two. 

Yes, I remembered Alex. His wide-apart, blue eyes, that always seemed to hold a smile in them, his high-pitched laugh… how often had we joked about the “girl’s laugh” we always thought he’d had? I remember when he and I used to play football together in the park… it seems so long ago, I’d almost forgotten his face. Moving on, I continued to read the letter:
Oh, as well, you should know that the old man next door, Mr Scott, who you always used to want to see? You must remember him, the nice old man who always gave you some biscuits when on your way home from school? Well, he just went to hospital a few days ago, because he’d fainted while watering his garden. The doctors were saying something about heart failure as they put him in the ambulance – he just turned 83, so I’m really worried for him – make sure you keep him in mind too, okay?

Oh yes, of course. Mr Scott – that foolish old man, always wandering around with that daft smile on his face, yelling “good mornin’ young’un,” to people near enough his own age. Senile old fool – I had one of those “biscuits” he offered once, and spent the next half-hour being sick. Oh, he acted worried alright – throwing around those fake cries of worry, and calling everyone to let them know – but I knew it was really his fault. He messed with those biscuits – trying to “sort me out” for my parents, like he’d always say…It would serve him right to have a heart attack – it would be about time too. The letter continued:

But, I haven’t forgotten the most important thing of course! Remember, the family of that man…

Enough! I almost yelled the word out loud as I tore the letter into pieces, and scrunched them up in my hand. I’ve had enough of hearing about that man. Of course, dead people don’t deserve to have names – so calling him that man was fine – but why were they making so much fuss about him? Every day for the last 10 years, I had Doctor Johnson walk into my room, trying to tell me about how that man hadn’t really tried to attack me – as if they knew! They tried telling me all sorts of things, like how that man was only asking me directions; he wasn’t trying to kill me. Then they try and tell that he hadn’t fallen on the knife he was trying to stab me with – that I’d pulled out a knife and stabbed him to death! Lies! All of them are insane! They don’t know that man! I know what I did was right, but no-one else does, do they? That is the price I pay for being the only sane person in a world full of lunatics. I sigh, before I toss the paper out between the bars of my window, and hope. 

I hope I won’t have to wait 5 years for another letter.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 16, 2011)

@shyam513 - you should italicize all of the portions being read from the letter so they can be more easily distinguished from the reader's thoughts.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 16, 2011)

@Shyam: I suppose it's up to the reader to decide whether or not he's a murderer, or innocent? Also, I'm confused at where he is. Is it a jail, or an asylum, or elsewhere? Who was he talking about when he referenced his attacker? Was he talking about the man who wrote the letter, or was he talking about the man who had the heart attack? 

Overall, an interesting concept. It could use a bit of expansion, but it does well at placing descriptions of his actions, and perhaps sanity issues. When it got to the bars at the end, I didn't know what to think.


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 16, 2011)

@old8oy Thanks for the idea, I'll put that in for the second draft.

@Sterling Well, in my mind, I figured that he was in an asylum, hence the bars. following from that, his attacker, the letter's author, and the man who had the heart attack were three seperate people - I was tying to show how his insanity warped his mind, so that "normal" events (like the old man offering him biscuits), was changed in his mind to an attempt at poisoning him. The best way to describe the narrator would probably be extremely paranoid, to the point of insane.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 16, 2011)

shyam513 said:
			
		

> @old8oy Thanks for the idea, I'll put that in for the second draft.
> 
> @Sterling Well, in my mind, I figured that he was in an asylum, hence the bars. following from that, his attacker, the letter's author, and the man who had the heart attack were three seperate people - I was tying to show how his insanity warped his mind, so that "normal" events (like the old man offering him biscuits), was changed in his mind to an attempt at poisoning him. The best way to describe the narrator would probably be extremely paranoid, to the point of insane.


I see, when he started talking like that, I figured he was insane, so you did great sending that message.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 16, 2011)

Okay, well here's a quick wiki with a bit of my stuff.  I'll add a bio sometime soon...

So now to work on the current challenge...


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 18, 2011)

A little off topic, but it's worth it. Anyone who finds it difficult to get into gear to write along story may want to pay a visit to NaNoWriMo.com - a 30 day novel writing challenge in Novemeber - the forums there have some great tips on writing.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 18, 2011)

shyam513 said:
			
		

> A little off topic, but it's worth it. Anyone who finds it difficult to get into gear to write along story may want to pay a visit to NaNoWriMo.com - a 30 day novel writing challenge in Novemeber - the forums there have some great tips on writing.


Sweet, I'll be checking it out later.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jun 18, 2011)

Okay


Spoiler



The dark clouds drifted through the sky, obscuring the white sliver of moon perched in the air. A soft, radiant glow emerged from a green flower. The light emanated, gently pulsing. Soon, a dozen flowers began mimicking the green flower. Gradually, the whole field lit up the night. A precious emerald descended  from the midnight sky. The flowers subsided their ceremonious harmony. Beams of azure light shot from the night, circling around the jewel. All of a sudden, the representative of willpower disappeared, leaving no remnants of the ceremony. The choosing ceremony.


I watched the Green Lantern yesterday, so yeah.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 18, 2011)

@helloworld12321: It's certainly descriptive, but not a definitive example of your ability. I'm going to need a longer short, whether you choose to be descriptive of a scene, or define clear characters to tell a story. I'll need at least 250, to 300 words. I would appreciate it if you took your time on it and spell and grammar check it as well.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jun 18, 2011)

Ok. This time, I guess I'll just write a poem (hopefully, it'll be good enough)
It's based on Wrecking Crew
---


Spoiler



It’s (a) me, Mario!
I’m going abroad, 
To break down the construction site in Donut Land
I don’t want Spike Foreman to be there,
He is very baleful and uses his mallet to smash the breakable ladders I’m on!
I was trying to get the head of our team to chasten the man,
But I am told, “You shouldn’t punish someone if they aren’t corrected! Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill!”
Someone should put a bit of knowledge into our chairman’s mind,
To edify him and teach him the ways of the world
I want to be fervent while working, 
But my enemies won’t let me
My premise is, “Why do they let Gotcha Wrenches/Eggplant Wizards in the site?”
But no one seems to listen!
Eggplant Wizards are OK,
Only that they are annoying when they stun me and I lose a life
Gotcha Wrenches are the most inept of all
They are unsuitable in a construction site since they just walk like springs,
I think the Purple breed is a little dumb,
But those Red ones are lofty, and they are cunning when lofty
This matter should be taken to our local government
Most people call it, “The Municipal”
But I always get the same response, even from my pedigree
My loving family says, “Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill!”
So alas, I go abroad
To continue my work, which I’m paid about $100,000,000,000,000!


----------



## Sterling (Jun 18, 2011)

@helloworld12321: Is that lyrics, or a poem? I'm also not understanding what the subject is about. It seems like you just tacked Mario into a work that wasn't meant for him. Your previous attempt a couple posts above was great, I just think it's too short for me to gauge your potential. I wanted you to write a short narrative, whether or not you choose to create characters and tell a story, or describe a scene is up to you. 250 - 300 words minimum.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jun 18, 2011)

This is my new story, which is about 390 words. It's my version of how Reptile came into UMK3


Spoiler



Jay walked casually through the woods. He’d escape his dismal home and relax in the forest. He always assured himself that there will be no danger. Not until now, though. As he listened to the soothing melody of the forest, an eerie atmosphere swept the clean air with a power-packed punch of dullness. Jay flinched at the sudden change. All of a sudden, a radiant glow emerged from a nearby flower. One by one, the flowers emanated a green wave. The trees started to deteriorate, and a grotesque face appeared on each one. Jay didn’t notice he was sinking into a neon green pool. “Help!” Jay exclaimed. His words sank down with him. After being sucked in by the pool, Jay found himself lying in a hospital bed in a place he’d never seen. An anesthetic plunged deep into Jay’s neck, and fell into a deep slumber. “Ugh, where am I?” Jay moans. His head was pounding, and his heart was beating as if he had completed a thousand push-ups and crunches individually. He slowly rose, and looked in a mirror. He had a black and green suit that covered his whole body. A mask was pulled over his head, only leaving slits for his eyes and nose. Something felt different about his face, though. “Maybe if I take this mask off?” Jay asks himself. This was not a good idea. “AAH!” Jay exclaims as he looks at his deformed head in the mirror. He had the face of an alligator. “Ah, I see you’ve already awoken, Reptile.” A man who had the same suit as Jay, only yellow, appeared. “You must have many questions, but this will answer it.” The man held up a letter. The letter stated that he had been chosen to replace the old Reptile because he was killed in Mortal Kombat 2, and didn’t return in Mortal Kombat 3. He had three look-alikes, which are returning in Ultimate Mortal Kombat 3. His look-alikes included Scorpion (yellow) , Sub-Zero (blue), and Human Smoke (gray). “So that means you are Scorpion?” Reptile inquires. “Yes. Sub-Zero and Human Smoke will be here momentarily, and then we shall start training for the UMK3. Got it?” Scorpion replies. “Yes.” Reptiles states. And it was only moments before they started preparing to defeat their competitors in the thrilling redo of Mortal Kombat 3.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 19, 2011)

@helloworld12321: You are creative, I'll give you that, but I have sent you a pm detailing my concerns.

Here is my short story today:



Spoiler: Untamed Wild




Trees stand lifeless and intimidating. Cracks and bellows personify their suffering in the cold. It is not forever though. Flowers growing, blooming in the spring. Trees full of life again, their scars heal and thicken. Animals dart here and there, small, large and wild. Through the drought and heat things die and water dries. Before the cool begins anew, and the living shed their life in preparation for the renewal that will come. These are the untouched lands of the northern forests. Savage and unforgiving in the Winter. Calm and sightly in the Spring. Harsh, wild, and tough in the Summer. Cool, fresh and ever changing in the Fall. The cycle of independence, chaos and peace all in one. Ever changing regardless of intervention. These are the untamed wilds, and they will hopefully always be this way. Beautiful, Bountiful and deadly. Nature weaves a tapestry of creation, destruction, and harmony. All is well, and in perfect order. We as a race squander the beauty of nature, when we should conserve and protect our surroundings. We bend nature to our will only through destruction and creation, but we cannot bring harmony to our tracts of land.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jun 19, 2011)

It may take me a little while to write it, so just check your PM box frequently, k?


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 19, 2011)

Yea, so since my short story doesn't look like it's gonna be ready any time soon, I'll just post a poem I made back when I was still a sophomore [ahh, the good days].



Spoiler




Amidst all the noise, haste and confusions
Along the days, work and conversations
Distinguishing truth from mere illusions
In a world of many misdirections

People not trusting and unbelieving
Some unfeeling, uncaring, unloving
What can it be that they are all fearing
Something that they are afraid of being

Concerns, woes, fears and secrets unspoken
Lies, insults, death and sins unforgiven
All result in sorrow, fear and loathing
Negates all good in a human being

Wars, drudgery and terror everywhere
People unconcerned, lenient, unaware
Can we stop this before it is too late
Or surrender to this horrible fate​



Not really my best poem, so far as I know...

PS
I wrote this with -sions, -tions and -nient counted as one syllable, so as to get a uniform 10 syllables per line... Not qute sure if those are the proper syllabication...


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 19, 2011)

Seeing as Shinigami357 was doing some of his old stuff, I decided to upload a poem I wrote at 14 - not my best, but it's okay.



Spoiler



Ice is just one’s distant memory,
Fire yet an eon away,
But there rests a time between them,
Just as one between night and day.
The morning wind hums its gentle melody,
A quiet song of life it plays,
It carries the eternal power of life anew,
As the dawn approaches these spring days.
Two bluebirds look from an elder tree,
They keep their own songs soft,
They join the gently singing wind,
And their song is borne aloft.
The song of life is sung once more,
To greet the twilight’s stare,
By birds and beasts and plants and trees,
With all the worlds love and care.
Warmth lives in every note,
As the sun’s light does stun,
The birds and beasts now quiet their song,
The day has now begun.
The birds begin their menial tasks,
Their outlook now is bright,
The spring has touched both their hearts,
As they once more wait for twilight.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 22, 2011)

OP has been updated. New challenge and recognized member.

@Shyam: I love your poem. I'll put it in the OP.


----------



## Edgedancer (Jun 22, 2011)

Hi guys. I have been totally busy for the last week or so and have not been able to participate in the guild. That said, I will try to remain a little more active now and to show that, I finally have a new piece of work to show you all. Its based upon the task Sterling set this week. Enjoy.



Spoiler



Its my hill. 
A dark green bench stands stoically at the top of my hill. Despite the beams being different lengths, causing a slope to one side, it retains its dignity, not caring for what others think of it. It may be weathered and worn by the elements but its vibrancy remains.
Over my bench, on my hill, a large tree looms, old and gnarled by age. It has weathered the same as the bench and remains standing, tall and proud. The cold wind whips through its branches, setting of a keening noise that exists right on the edge of hearing, obscure yet ever-present. You would not notice unless you were already told about it.
All this is situated upon my hill. A single dirt path, worn down by countless feet, permeates the knee high grass that sweeps and bends in the breeze. The slope is gentle on all sides, allowing relative access for all of those who wish to visit. But be weary if you ascend, as my tree has cast its roots far and wide, ripping the earth up at whim.
My hill extends ever down wards, its dry yellow grass, carpeting the surface with a warm, vibrant glow. Small trees appear in patches, dotting the yellow backdrop with bursts of dull green. Animals roam the hillside, kangaroos peppering the vista with heads cocked curiously to a side as they hear a noise.
My hill is actually not a single peak, but a duo. Its sister lies 200m to the west with a path winding downwards and then up again, joining them. This is what I see from my window, framed against the translucent window frame in my room.
In the mornings my hills are the cradle for the rising sun, as it hits the sky and bursts to flames, raining warmth and light upon me.
This is the hill I love. And its all mine.


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 22, 2011)

Okay, this little bit's in response to Sterling's new challenge, but first,

@Edgedancer I think your piece is excellent, and uses language well - I can almost see the place in my mind, with the tree and path.

Okay, now for my description:


Spoiler



The sun was setting, sending a deep pink and yellow glow across the cloudless sky. A cool breeze, softly rustling the leaves in the trees and the grass under my feet wound its way through the air. I looked at the deserted meadow, and all one could see was grass, trees and the setting sun. I lay on the soft grass, feeling the wind flow through the air, and the warmth of the dusk in front of me, with no sound but the gentle rustle of falling leaves, like paper softly strewn from a child's hand. The soft scent of the wildflowers, mixed with the more stately musk of pine cones, just fallen under the autumn breeze flowed through the meadow, and thus, the meadow remained, perhaps for all eternity


----------



## Sterling (Jun 22, 2011)

Very good both of you. I feel like I'm in those places. Wind, and breeze in my face. The warmth of the sun heating, and fading. Exactly what I wanted from the challenge.

@Edgedancer: No worries mate. I know you have been busy.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jun 23, 2011)

If it's ok with you, can I try a poem instead?
If not, I'll stick with the prompts. I have the prompt one pretty much ready, but if I could do a poem it would be great. 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	



--
Also, I've been really busy with graduation etc., so my Temp activity will be a little down until next Wednesday.
I graduate on Monday, but school ends on Tuesday.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 24, 2011)

It's fine. Do both if you wish, but I'm not the best at judging poetry.


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jun 24, 2011)

My, uh, story for the challenge.



Spoiler



This was an empty place. No windows, no doors, no light or darkness. It was as if the place was separated from the world. One could move, but where? There were no walls, no ceilings and no floors, one could move forward, backward, and could even move upward. One did not have a shadow. When a sound was made, no one, not even the maker of the sound could hear it. It just went farther and farther, like it had nothing to bounce around from.

When a hand pushed against the emptiness, it would feel nothing. No air, no gas, and no feeling. One doesn't need to breathe or blink, like living and existence was some sort of a blurred concept. Nothing and anything was possible. Existing in the place wasn't even a certainty. One was simply there because that was what he knew. Matter and physics did not exist, this was where nothing and everything met.

There were no distractions, no birthday parties, no annoying neighbors, no reports due on Monday, no sexual struggles, no global warming, no blind love, no 6'o'Clock news, no presidential elections, no religious wars, no cancer, no exploding cars, no huge traffic, no hurricanes, no watermelons, no babies and no people. Nothing mattered. Emotion, aspirations, morals, values and laws were non-existent.

There was nowhere to head to. The room does not exist anywhere, it is in the middle of nowhere but everywhere. Nothing was in front or behind.

*Where do we go when we die?*


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 24, 2011)

Yay, we're allowed to make a scene!!! Owait... 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




Anyway, without further ado...



Spoiler



The night sky was a showcase of the universe's treasures. Unlike the city, where smog, skyscrapers and bright lights interfered, here there were only clouds, and tonight there were none of them. The moon, tonight in its crescent form, shone with its distinct, otherworldly light. Beside it, Venus twinkled, as beautiful as any of the multitudes of stars on display. And speaking of stars, it seemed that all of them were rejoicing at this rare opportunity to present themselves to mortal eyes. Here and there, constellations could be spotted, chief among them Ursa Major. Near it, Ursa Minor can be found, Polaris shining proudly as it points north. The beautiful dark canvas was undisturbed save for some birds and a plane high up, making its way west.

The wind started to pick up, and the grass swayed. The branches of the surrounding trees shook, and some leaves drifted off into the breeze. A faint but sweet smell of newly-bloomed flowers filled the clearing. The wind died down, and for a moment, it was peaceful again. And then they appeared.

Drifting across the horizon, spots of light danced around, as though vying for attention. They flew around, spreading their light across the clearing in indistinguishable patterns.  Between the moon, stars and the fireflies was created a show of light unmatched by any artificial neon, strobe or laser lights elsewhere. Birds perched on nearby trees added their vocalizations, as if to add to the beautiful atmosphere.

The near-magical serenity was broken as a thin, concentrated beam of light descended from the dark night's sky. It lingered only for a second, as if trying to make one doubt it ever existed, but such doubts were soon erased, as another beam of light, this one nearer, follows. The succession of these beams of light is temporarily driven out of the mind as the plane falls down toward the earth, a blazing ball of fire.

The nearby birds fly off in every direction imaginable, the hurried flapping of their wings soon masked as the remains of the plane crashes and explodes, mere miles away. Meanwhile, the beams of light continue to rain down, each one getting nearer.  One lands yards away, and a dark figure steps out of it as soon as it vanishes. The last thing one sees is a descending flash of light, as the figure unleashes some sort of weapon.

Darkness.




Yes, I set up that scene only to destroy it... Ah...  
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	





EDIT: Too many damn commas.


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 24, 2011)

@Shinigami That bit at the end made me laugh - nice job!

@Kingdomblade Dark, but powerful - I really liked the use of the questions, they really seemed to emphasize the aura of "not knowing" - an excellent piece.

Also, I figured I may as well apply for a reviewer position, so;

Username: Shyam513 - always has been
Languages: English is third, but been speaking it snce 6
Fairly Active, I look in daily
I try and write a little everyday
If we're talking all my reviews, it's probably around 6 or 7
I'm more into book reviews, so I'm gonna stick one I did recently here:



Spoiler



Northern Lights Book Review

Northern lights, despite being a book written a decade and a half ago, still holds every reader who stumbles across it firmly glued to it pages. With the addition of two sequels, The Subtle Knife, and The Amber Spyglass a few years later, more and more readers have ventured into the mystical world of Dust and Angels, to see what secrets lay in the Northern Lights.

Storyline:
The storyline is an epic twisting journey, beginning in the Oxford of ages past, with an attempted poisoning unfolding in the first few pages, moving to the ice-covered fields of the north, where battle and adventure await Lyra in countless other worlds. The storyline has not lost its gripping power over time, and readers of all ages will remain entranced over the pages of Northern Lights
Storyline: 10/10

Characters:
Northern Lights features several well raised characters, with the main protagonist, Lyra Belacqua, being portrayed as a young girl with a penchant for trouble, whilst the main antagonist, Mrs Coulter, is shown to be a cold-hearted, ruthless woman, who delights in the process of severing children from their Dæmons, small friendly companions of everyone who lives in Lyra’s world. With Lyra’s dæmon Pantalaimon always ready to throw in his opinion on the situation, the characters are never silent in this book. Aside from a few “wooden”, cliché moments that the characters have, the characters are excellently made.
Characters: 8.5/10

Setting:
The settings in this book are lavishly described, with the austerity of the Jordan College retiring room smoothly flowing into the more easy-going, simple life upon a Gyptian barge, which in turn flows into a luxuriant palace of gold and marble, inhabited only by bears – no matter which way you turn, the setting is laid out before your eyes so well, you can almost imagine you are there.
Setting: 9.5/10

Overall:
This book has been lauded as one of the best works of English literature, and I have to say, from reading it myself, it’s not hard to see how it gets that title. With settings so vibrant that visualising them is easy, to characters so realistic that they almost seem alive, the book portrays everything that English Literature holds to be excellent.
Overall Rating: 9.5/10


----------



## Sterling (Jun 25, 2011)

@Shinigami357: Nice, I love your scene. Just goes to show you that Chaos is only fleeting while serenity is forever.

@Shyam: I'd welcome you to the ranks of the Guild, but you are welcome already. When we get a few more reviewers, we'll start doing to writer courtesy service. Critics are very much welcome.

Here is my description for the weekly challenge.


Spoiler



Rain clouds gather. A flash! Thunder shatters the calm. The storm has arrived. Foot falls, fall faster. Running as if at their very heels were the Devil himself. They're not scared, but no one likes to have to dry off. The drizzle starts, and slowly the drops gather momentum, forcing larger drops to pelt the pavement until there was no place for dry to hide. Foot falls gather, faster and faster. A door slams, and another and another. Announcing the safety achieved. Only one pair of feet remained. The small forehead looking to the sky. Staring. Unblinking. As if daring the heavens to rend and unleash the torrent. He soon got his wish. He stayed for but a moment before the torrent drenched his little body. Shivering and shaking, he beat a hasty retreat to the nearby forest. 

As he crosses the threshold the rain and fury quiets. Settling to a dull roar. Muffled with ease by the strong trees. The child moved deeper into the wood. Staring and listening in wonder at the sounds of the forest that mixed and mingled with the rain. A drip here, and a grunt there. A veritable waterfall fell into the once dry stream bed. Rekindled, it slithered along as if it always had. Croaking ensues as small frogs emerge from the soaked land. Their will tempered again by the falling forgiveness. Even as the boy grew father from the entrance, his doubt did not mount. The sight that greeted him incited awe and wonder at the beauty and splendor. A clearing behold, flooded with light, beauty so bright. A rainbow leaped from edge to edge, and a second one chased merrily. A sight to remember.


----------



## Nujui (Jun 25, 2011)

I'm gonna write some more of that story involving this weeks challenge, here's what I have so far.



Spoiler



"Dad, where have you been?"
As the light dimmed, I found myself standing on warm, smooth grass instead of cold hard cement and refreshing brezze filled the air as the trees rustle and leaves moved about. My memory of what just transpired only moments ago was suddenly washed away from my memory...and suddenly new ones come rushing in...

"Dad? Are you alright?"

I shake my head and look at my "son", my mouth and mind are telling me "Yes, I'm fine son, just thinking about...things." But my heart is telling me a different story



I'll put more in tomorrow, feel free to review what I have.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 25, 2011)

KirbyBoy said:
			
		

> I'm gonna write some more of that story involving this weeks challenge, here's what I have so far.
> 
> 
> 
> ...


That was last week's challenge. This week's is a descriptive scene. Like I said though. You can do them in any order you want. Also, what you have so far is good. A little out of context, but so far it's cool.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 25, 2011)

New Song:



Spoiler



*Inside*
That poor pretty girl, so very low and tired
Got a simple life, such a simple flower
She wants to wilt away like a rose in autumn
As her thorny stem draws blood like it ought to

When she walks along the heads can’t help but turn
The way she sways her hips, it makes the fellas yearn
For a single night, even a single gaze
But they have no idea the lives she’s set ablaze

Such a lonely girl, she can’t be satisfied
Doesn’t ask for much, but it’s all in her eyes
She’s been hurt before, heart’s been ground to dust
Expects that every man speaks only what he must
To get inside

To get inside

And so she wears her past, like it’s a prophylactic
So beautiful, and still so f*cking tragic
Time moves on, she watches as it passes
No attempt to make a single thing that lasted

That poor pretty girl, she just can’t help but fear
That scared, lonely child staring from the mirror
Alone, she feels it all – It multiplies each day
With no one next to her to wipe the tears away

If she only knew that there’s no need to cry
No need to say those words or give sarcastic sighs
Because not every man will fail to empathize
Because it’s not her fault those f*ckers told those lies
To get inside

To get inside


----------



## Nujui (Jun 25, 2011)

Sterling said:
			
		

> KirbyBoy said:
> 
> 
> 
> ...


Ah, sorry (I wrote that part at 12 a night yesterday, so I probably mistook it for that.) And it's suppose to be out of context for a reason. Here, I'll explain. 

The "Flower" software is pretty much the prefect paradise....only it's not taking place in real life, only in your head. When the light shone through, it was like the Flower going through photosynthesis, it activated and placed him in what his mind would be the prefect life..though, the thing is still buggy, which later on will start to change is prefect life into a living hell, as why they're testing. (And no, the son isn't real, though the mother is one of the "test subjects".) All they want too see is  whoever can survive the hard ships of life really, so the creators makes certain things happen, like the child dying, no money, divorce, etc, but the bugs make it much, much worse for any normal person to handle. . The story is put into 3, long chapters.

Beginning, Middle, and End...

Hence the reason for 3 "testing chambers."


----------



## astrangeone (Jun 26, 2011)

* Current User Name, and previous User names. (Or the past 3 - 4):  astrangeone
* Area of Expertise. (Narratives, Poetry, Lyrics, etc):  I tend to write articles, then back with prose.  I also write erotic fiction....*blush*  Although, that is usually not on gbatemp.  And short fanfiction - usually regarding movies/video games.  Also, I have a fascination with stories about murders and darker stuff - but that usually doesn't get written about.
* Which language was your first, and what number is English on that list:  Cantonese Chines and English.  
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





  I'm fluent in both, but I write in English only.
* How often are you active here at GBAtemp? (Doesn't have any effect on your application, but it's nice to know):  pretty often, although that may change as university starts again.
* How often do you write?  Not often enough.  This will help - and beta readers always do.
* Sample of your work. (It has to be either a short story, or a smaller part of an existing work. It can be on GBAtemp, or another website such as deviant art.)

This first spoiler is a little dark (I wrote this when I was in a creative writing class, and I fully believe that human nature is a terrible thing:


Spoiler



Her personal heroes were Albert Fish, Jeffery Dahmer, and Elizabeth Bathory.  All had reveled in creating their own realities for themselves.  Bathory had tasked servants to perform unspeakable acts of violence, and then bathed in the blood of virgin women to keep herself young.   Albert Fish's appetite mirrored her own, and he brought down the facade of safety most parents had of older men.  Dahmer used his almost supernatural charisma to make sure that he got away without his appetite being revealed.  All used a shell to keep themselves operating in the real world, and succeeded almost too well.

"I'm going to change that."  She felt the weight of the scalpel in her hand, and almost wept at the relief she felt.

The first cut was almost clinical, detached.  The fatty layer of skin parted easily, revealing the muscle that controled one's ability to smile.  She disabled that with a precise, but cold injection of Botox into that area.  She repeated the procedure on the other side, her hand trembling slightly.  She stopped to wipe up the blood that flowed with a piece of gauze, and then started work on the forehead.   Two precise cuts at 45 degress ensured enough space - and then she reached for the elevators, and tucked them neatly into the layer of skin, directly under the fatty tissue.  A few quick sutures with dissolving line anchored the skin again, and it was time to file the teeth into fangs. 

A quick look in the mirror, and her reflection grinned devilishly back at her.  Her work was complete and her soul was satisfied.  She would finally look the part.



I'm 27 years old, a lesbian and Asian...


----------



## Sterling (Jun 26, 2011)

Welcome to the Guild Astrangeone. Though your prose is dark, the passion shines through your other works. As long as you're active at least once in six months, you'll stay a writer.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 26, 2011)

astrangeone said:
			
		

> * Current User Name, and previous User names. (Or the past 3 - 4):  astrangeone
> * Area of Expertise. (Narratives, Poetry, Lyrics, etc):  I tend to write articles, then back with prose.  I also write erotic fiction....*blush*  Although, that is usually not on gbatemp.  And short fanfiction - usually regarding movies/video games.  Also, I have a fascination with stories about murders and darker stuff - but that usually doesn't get written about.
> * Which language was your first, and what number is English on that list:  Cantonese Chines and English.
> 
> ...




Whoa... Interesting premise. It's not first-person, but you see into the character's head anyway. That's really the most important part of dark fiction, IMHO.

Anyway, I better stop before I sound *too* creepy. LOL

PS
How could one grin after paralyzing the muscles needed to smile? I think you can bare your teeth, but not grin per se... Of course, I might be wrong, anatomically speaking...


@Sterling
I'm having some difficulty stringing together 3 or more verbs, especially when the subject is supposed to be doing the things at the same time...  
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




 I do just fine when there's just two of them, but I wasn't really taught how to do more than that. Help me, please... 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




Thanks!

PS
Might as well post it on the Writing Guide. Don't want to hog all your advice, hahaha. I haven't come up with any good ones yet, kind of distracted lately...


----------



## Sterling (Jun 26, 2011)

It was a dark and stormy night. I was writing in bed, and listening to the rain fall. From time to time I would stare at the wall, the pen still moving, and the rain still falling.

You don't have to always rush them in the same sentence. Post how you are doing it, and we'll see if I can help you.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 26, 2011)

Something like this:

"She just looked at him, smiling, as she shakes her head."

Most of my problems lie in where/when I should use the past, present or gerund forms... For example, the above statement can be rephrased thus...

"She just looks at him, smiling, as she shook her head."

And it's still the same basically [though the gerund form never changed]. Should I just wing it and write which way fits the narrative best?


----------



## Sterling (Jun 26, 2011)

Yes, write as best fits the Narrative. Are you doing it from First person, second person, or?


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 26, 2011)

Okay, here's my shot at the challenge.  This was really more of a joke.  I have a co-worker who always forgets to send me her weekly itinerary and I sent her this as a reminder 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	






Spoiler



She leaned against the glass, eyes fixed on the street below, remembering how excited she was when she learned she had finally gotten the promotion.  All of the difficult years had finally paid off.  The new office, with its glass walls and high ceilings.  The beautiful view of the rising sun against the blue waters littered with sailboats and ferries.  The grand architecture of the surrounding buildings.  

But it was all gone.  The city in chaos and panic.  The street at which she gazed, once bustling with life...with lives, was now in ruin.  Looters ravaged the overturned cars and storefronts.  Flames rose from the scattered bodies of those who could not escape.  The call had come far too late to save them all.  With tears exhausted and voice gone, there was no other option but to sink to the floor and place her head in her heads.  She knew exactly how it all began and she knew exactly how she could have prevented it…  She knew that she was the cause of all of this pain and destruction…  If only she’d sent that email…


----------



## Sterling (Jun 26, 2011)

@Old8oy: Nice. I find that hilarious. Now if only an email could incite such panic in the streets...


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 26, 2011)

Sterling said:
			
		

> Yes, write as best fits the Narrative. Are you doing it from First person, second person, or?




I'm basically shifting between 3rd-person/narrator POV and first-person, though the issue comes up in both of them... I'll just find a way that works for me, thanks.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 26, 2011)

Here's a great article from a fairly well-known writer on writing.  Nothing too specific language-wise but an interesting read nonetheless.


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jun 27, 2011)

@Sterling: I R SAD. Y U NO COMMENT ON MAH STORY?



			
				KingdomBlade said:
			
		

> My, uh, story for the challenge.
> 
> 
> 
> ...



YES I'M BEING AN ATTENTION WHORE. lol jk

Anyways, I'm really struggling to get flow on poems. I have to look at a rhyming dictionary to just get a good pattern with it. Any tips anyone? Whenever I start a poem, I seem to always desperately find words that rhyme, to the point that I have to plan out the ends for each line. XD


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 27, 2011)

@KingdomBlade

words don't have to rhyme perfectly.  practice just focusing on the number of syllables in each line.  This might come in handy with the rhyming part


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 27, 2011)

In terms of poetry, rhyming schemes abound. The ideal solution would be to just increase your vocabulary, then rhyming will be second nature to you. Anyway, I always believed that the lines themselves are more important than the rhyming [but that could just be me]. My advice would be: just let the lines flow, the rhymes will follow. Kind of like that.


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 27, 2011)

@kingdomblade 

For my poem, I try and get a general theme in mind, then look at all the words related to it I can think of - and form those, I pick out the ones I think rhyme best.


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 27, 2011)

Oh, and sorry to double post, but my exams just finished, so I've got three months or so off - so if anyone has any pieces they want me to proofread or critique in detail, quickly, then feel free to drop me a PM, and I'll get round to it Asap. It can be any format or length, I don't really mind.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 28, 2011)

@Sterling - Just added something to the guide. Hope it's up to the usual standard.

@shyam513 - Ah, but wouldn't you rather spend the break getting some needed R&R? LOL, just kidding. Pretty sure our members have fantastic pieces lined up already. But hey, enjoy your break.

Anyway, back to writing...


----------



## shyam513 (Jun 29, 2011)

Okay, I got a little bored, so I thought I'd post a little more of my novel - the one in my original application. For some background, the books working title is "Souls of Wind", and is about a boy who finds he can control wind. Anyway, here's a little descriptive piece of the main female protagonist, so feel free to let me know how realistic or wooden it sounds.



Spoiler



The figure was not; as I had expected from the strength or speed of the strike, a man, but a woman, close to my own age. She was of medium height, and had a slim, feline figure, soft, light brown skin, and a perfect, beautiful face. Her dark, raven coloured hair fell to the nape of her neck, framing her soft features in an ebony curtain. Her eyes were a bright, almost playful teal, while her face was full, with soft curves. Her mouth was full and warm, and although understandably twisted in a fierce expression, it still retained its perfect beauty. She carried two short swords, one in either hand, but what caught my eyes was the colour of the blades, one a rich, deep blue, the colour of the ocean’s heart, whereas the other was a pale, light blue, the colour of the midday sky. The two colours intertwined seemed to be almost hypnotic, with patterns dancing across them, like waves across the water, or clouds across the sky. She wore a sable cloak of deep crimson, above a pair of black trousers and a short sleeved tunic, which was made of a smooth turquoise silk unlike anything I had seen before.


----------



## Gundam Eclipse (Jun 30, 2011)

EDIT: Ignore this, i posted it in the wrong forum >_>


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 30, 2011)

@ Sterling:
New challenge for this week?


----------



## Sterling (Jun 30, 2011)

@Old8oy: Sec, I've been busy moving, lemme do it.

//Op has been updated.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jun 30, 2011)

I sent my story to you Sterling.
LAST TRY!!!


----------



## Sterling (Jun 30, 2011)

ShinyJellicent12321 said:
			
		

> I sent my story to you Sterling.
> LAST TRY!!!


You're in, welcome to the Guild. I had to make sure you'd want to improve.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 30, 2011)

Old8oy:

My name is Rob.  I'm 27 years old from Michigan, U.S.A., a somewhat dreary place at times but the summers are nice.  For a living I supervise inmates while they help me prep meals for a correctional facility.  I've been husband for the past 3 1/2 years and a father for the past 2 months and 3 days.

My goals in life are to simply be there for and support my family.

My goal in writing is to articulate what I'm feeling at a particular moment in a way that makes it tangible to the reader.  I seem to do that most easily through poetry but am working on my prose.  I would like to put two novels on paper at some point in my life.  Both are completely written in my head but I've not been able to translate the images to words.

I've grown up quite a bit over the past year.  Made a few mistakes, some terrible, some wonderful.  None of which would I ever take back despite the constant drain on me physically and emotionally.  That's what pen and paper is for, right? 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




So, without further ado...

My tagline:



Spoiler



C'est la Vie
Stercus Addidit
Hakuna Matata



Meaning:



Spoiler



Such is Life
Shit Happens
No Worries


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jun 30, 2011)

YAY!!!


----------



## machomuu (Jun 30, 2011)

I do want to be a reviewer, but I want to polish my skills before I submit an application.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jun 30, 2011)

@machomuu

why wait?  I don't think anyone truly believes their writing skills are "polished".  If you submit a review and it isn't accepted you'll at least be told specifics as to where to should focus most on improving.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jun 30, 2011)

I'm Arvind, 11, from Staten Island. I am going to Intermediate School 72. I have been accepted into SP classes, too. I don't think I should reveal too many things about myself, but to cut things short, I am academically and mentally (citizenship) excellent. I've been remarked with this term in many points of my first leg of my educational journey. My main goal is to become an orthodontist. Even so, people discourage me and say I should work in the technological area. I'm excellent for my grade in technology, but my parents and I think I should be an orthodontist. After all, who's going to take care of them after they retire? Also, I want to be there for my family. I want them to live happily for their life. I would do anything for the welfare of my family.

My Tagline 


Spoiler



Jivana accha ya bura ho sakata hai
Koi bata nahim, basa kadama para
Kauna janata hai kya hoga?
Maim niscita rupa se nahim


Translation


Spoiler



Life can be good or bad
No matter what, just move on
Who knows what will happen?
I certainly don't


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 1, 2011)

Weekly Challenge:

I'm Vince, just some dude from the Philippines. I'm 19 [20 in a couple of weeks], and would love to go on forever, wahahaha. I have a myriad of interests that people find weird [I swear it's them, not me... I think].

My personal goal is just to be there and be a good person for my family, friends and random strangers who aren't out for my head.

Writing-wise, my goal would be to get better [a whole lot better] and hopefully get a story of mine published some day [some day soon, LOL].


tag line:

Where you're more likely to find better written works than this tag line.


----------



## shyam513 (Jul 1, 2011)

Hi, the name's Shyam (suprise suprise), and I'm 16, from London, UK. I've got plenty of interests, from the books I read, to the sports I play - Rugby, Tennis, Cricket, American football, Football - name it.

My goal in life is to be there for those who care for me - all the people who've stood behind me.

My goal in writing is to keep trying, until I hopefully get published - one day.

And, for the tagline:

A picture says a thousand words, but sometimes it only takes one word to paint a picture in your mind.


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jul 2, 2011)

_Who am I to say who I am?
I am but a mere creature, who survives and thrives
What we are is insignificant
We live to live, we die to not live

I cannot say who I really am
I cannot say what I really mean to me
I can only say who I am to me
I am just like everyone else

A perfect being that is imperfect
A blemish on the world's face of beauty
A beacon of light shining on the sea
Another person walking, talking and thinking_​
Vann. My name is Vann, and I'd like to make your acquaintance. To start, I am 14, seems young no? To be honest, I'm insane. Totally insane. Though I'd still like to be your friend, since I'm pretty friendly once you get to know me.

I live in a little [big] country known as the Philippines that happens to be a pacific-ish country in South-East Asia. I like the place, but dammit, the people can be so stupid and conservative. What kind of overpopulated country bans abortion and wants to ban reproductive health? Yes, a Catholic country, like ours.

I'm getting a tad bit off topic here, but in all seriousness, I think I may have some sort of problem. Though insanity always accompanies skill and (not trying to be boastful) I'm pretty skillful. Most especially in Math and English.

I digress. My goals? Uh, live, eat and pray? No, really, in writing it's to get my movie reviews and writings published in a major publication along with possibly writing a novel. For life, have a family, make a shit ton of money working in a bank of some sort, and living a comfortable lifestyle for the rest of my life. Simple as that, though more than that would be welcome.

_*Mors venit velociter quae neminem veretur*
*Death comes quickly and respects no one*_​


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jul 4, 2011)

Kind of inactive lately.

So.. I joined my school newspaper and decided to post an article (just a refreshing change of pace).

http://maristblueandgold.com/ws/?p=152

It'd be kinda difficult to transfer it here.. so eh. Any comments or suggestions?


----------



## chris888222 (Jul 4, 2011)

Wow? I was kinda late when I noticed this... Can I still make an application? 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




*Reviewer Application*

Always chris888222, no matter on any forum 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	



English? Spoken almost everytime, although I'm a little bad in grammar. 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	



Extremely active during the holidays. Even in the school term I still go on at least once.
Write? Not on this forum? Quite a lot I must say 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	



Reviews I have done on this forum? I think 3. I care more about quality than quantity.

*3 reviews I've done:*
iPhone 4 review
Nintendo 3DS review
Resident Evil: The Mercenaries 3D review

*fingers crossed*

Oh and sorry about so many emoticons, I love to use them


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 4, 2011)

KingdomBlade said:
			
		

> Kind of inactive lately.
> 
> So.. I joined my school newspaper and decided to post an article (just a refreshing change of pace).
> 
> ...




Nice. You write features? I like the almost parody slant to it.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 5, 2011)

@Chris888222 - Seems Sterling hasn't responded to your application yet. Give him maybe another half-day or so [it is just after July 4th weekend], otherwise PM him. Pretty sure he'd love to have another reviewer. Best of luck, cya again here soon.


----------



## chris888222 (Jul 6, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:
			
		

> @Chris888222 - Seems Sterling hasn't responded to your application yet. Give him maybe another half-day or so [it is just after July 4th weekend], otherwise PM him. Pretty sure he'd love to have another reviewer. Best of luck, cya again here soon.


Hopefully 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




July 4th is Independence Day right if I'm not wrong?


----------



## chris888222 (Jul 7, 2011)

Sorry for double post but anyone? No replies even


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 7, 2011)

Hm? Yea? Whatcha need? Sterling still MIA?


----------



## chris888222 (Jul 7, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:
			
		

> Hm? Yea? Whatcha need? Sterling still MIA?


Waiting for sterling actually 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




No reply...


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 7, 2011)

He'll turn up, I'm sure. Must have taken a break or something... Don't worry too much about it.


----------



## chris888222 (Jul 7, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:
			
		

> He'll turn up, I'm sure. Must have taken a break or something... Don't worry too much about it.


Haha okay.

Sorry but I'm just that impatient.


----------



## astrangeone (Jul 7, 2011)

Tagline:  We put our faith in words, we follow where they lead.  We are the Writer's Guild.

Description:  Me?  I'm a queer chick.  I don't look like it, although.  I'm a brunette, with shoulder length hair, usually kept in a ponytail.  My eyes are dark hazel, and I'm told I have thick, untamed eyebrows.  I'm pale as Death itself, but I don't try to be.  I have a bit of a chubby stomach, but my arms are very toned and muscular.

When I speak, I have a slight accent.  In that, I tend to mispronounce "r"s.  I also tend to not have an "inside voice", as I grew up in a clothing factory and I'm partly deaf in one ear.  I'd been told that I have "no filter" - that is, whatever I'm thinking, it comes out of my mouth.

My goals include publishing a lesbian romance novel, finishing my university degree, selling my collection of previously loved stuff on ebay, and just trying to get away from my mother.  I'm working towards all of these things now - my education is my ticket out of here.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 9, 2011)

Still nothing from Sterling? Hmmm, should we report him missing? 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




   Just kidding... He'll turn up.

Anyway, how to describe when someone is speaking. Might be helpful to anyone writing a story, but needs a little help when it comes to character conversations [like me].


----------



## chris888222 (Jul 9, 2011)

Yup still no news from Sterling...

I have done two more reviews. Need me to link them?


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jul 11, 2011)

Where is Sterling? Seriously, it's been a while.
Maybe he's on vacation
EDIT: He was online at 11:39 AM today. It says in his profile


----------



## shyam513 (Jul 11, 2011)

Maybe he's on a break or something. Or he could be ill - like me - which is why I haven't posted for a bit. To make up for it, I'm giving a little more of my story here:



Spoiler



Her whisper of “Tomorrow” was cut off by the door closing, almost as if it were pronouncing sentence in a court. Tomorrow it was then.
Well, after a good night’s sleep, everything Leven had told me looked far brighter and reasonable, and I was in quite a cheerful mood that morning. I even went quite smoothly through the process of choosing a stallion to ride on, even though I was fully aware of the nuisance it was, considering I could run far faster than it could ride. However, I was willing to put up with this inconvenience in order to learn what exactly Kaelani had been doing during the time she was away. I do not know why, but I had a feeling it was extremely important to me, so as we rode off, I made sure to stick close to Kaelani, for I knew that sooner or later, she would tell me.
It turned out to be the former, for we had barely gone a few kilometres away from the city, when Leven decided to go ahead in order to scout the surrounding area for any threats that were present, leaving Kaelani and I alone. I looked expectantly at Kaelani, and she began without hesitation.
“I went to Mistral.”
“Excuse me? Mistral? But that..that’s…”
“Your home, I know.  But I had to go and see for myself. You told me your father was dead, and I wanted to go see if you had been telling the truth. It is a part of who I am that I have to check the facts myself. Though I thought that you killing your father was bad enough, I would have hated you if I had learned that you were a liar as well.”
“Well, I suppose it is lucky that I chose not to lie. I would have thought that anyone else in my position would have lied.”
“I agree, and I would probably have been able to forgive you, despite what I just said, if I’d I had found out you were lying. But finding out you were telling the truth was something…amazing. It filled me with admiration for you, Névent. The fact that you told the truth in a situation where anyone else would have used a lie made me realised that you were someone extraordinary. Remember what I said earlier – That I had no friends? Well, it is my honour to tell you that is no longer true – I have finally found one.”
The declaration was so sudden, it took me aback. I quickly however, regained my composure, and smiled warmly at Kaelani.
“I am glad to hear that you count me as a friend, and hope that I always bear that title.”  
Kaelani looked at me, and laughed in joy, with her joyful, birdlike laugh, so full of mirth that it started me laughing too – in fact, we were still laughing when Leven returned, and he looked at us as if we were insane. Hardly surprising, truth be told.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jul 12, 2011)

Challenge (The end is _like_ 999, but NOT 999)
----
The midnight air of Haunt Woods was full of fear and dread. A lone wolf howled in the distance. Sylvester ambled through the dark forest, frantically swinging his head left and right to make sure there was no danger present. Sylvester had been searching for the fabled Crystal Chasms that lied deep in the terrifying Haunt Woods forest. People said that there was a harvest of jewels that called the cave their home. Such jewels that could suffice to pay for his poor family, with much extras. In the distance, Sylvester could make out a soft, blue light emanating in the distance. Joy washed away his fears, and he dashed toward the light. Or, atleast under the light. He retraced his steps back until the cause of the light was in front of him. A blue flower was present before him, pulsating light from its stigma. Sylvester reached out to touch it, and recieved a stinging reply. "Ouch!" he let out as he stepped back. As if a switch in the flower turned on, the light died down, and waves of cerulean light shot out from the flower. An azure ring encircled the ground around Sylvester, and suddenly, he went blank. 
_Consider this a privilege. You will be playing a game, called the Senary Game. You will risk your life in this game, and risk others'. I await you, at the Crystal Chasms._


----------



## Sterling (Jul 16, 2011)

My apologies guys. My computer crapped out on me on the first. My parents only just now left their computer open for my use. So my abscence has not been by choice. Lemme get right on Chris's application.

@chris888222: Your reviews and first impressions are very insightful. They may not be the most professional with the emoticons, but you have untapped talent. Welcome to the Guild, where improvement and talent come in both hands.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jul 16, 2011)

No prob Sterling 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




Was getting kind of worried there...  Welcome back!


----------



## Sterling (Jul 16, 2011)

In my will, I want someone to let GBAtemp know if I die. If that happens, you can start to worry.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 16, 2011)

Welcome back. We've been kind of shut down for these past two weeks or so.


----------



## Raika (Jul 16, 2011)

A friend challenged me to write a children's story ("simple" words, vocabulary etc) within a word limit. I came up with an impromptu idea (with zero planning as usual) and it turned out like this:



Spoiler



There was a legend passed down by the elders in a village of hamsters located at the top of Breezy Hill. It was said that at the bottom of Breezy Hill, known as the Lair of Rats, was an extremely dangerous land that should never be ventured into. However, this was just made up to keep the hamsters from interacting with the rats, even though the two species used to live in harmony.
A young and arrogant hamster, Chippy, was curious, and pestered Granny Whiskers to tell him more.
“Granny, I want to hear more!”
Granny Whiskers, wanting to teach Chippy a lesson about humility, told him that deep in the Lair, there was a valuable treasure.
“I warn you, do not attempt to find the treasure, or you’ll get eaten by the rats!”
Chippy, being the arrogant hamster he is, resolved to obtain the treasure to prove that he was “the best”. 
“Those silly rats are no match for me!”
Chippy didn’t have any friends because he was too proud, but he longed for some. He thought that if he became “the best”, other hamsters would become friends with him.
One afternoon, Chippy wandered into the Lair of Rats, but without any directions, he wandered aimlessly, heading deeper into the Lair. He eventually reaches a rat village, and gets spotted by the vicious rats. 
“It’s those rats Granny talked about. I’ll teach them a lesson!”
Chippy marched into the village, and upon spotting him, the rats started growling at him.
“What are you doing here, hamster? This is rat territory, leave or else we’ll eat you!”
They bared their sharp teeth at Chippy. Since the rats were larger in both size and numbers, Chippy got frightened, and fled the village.
“Those rats are scary!”
Panting and out of breath, Chippy stopped running and looked around him. He was lost in an unfamiliar place. Night had fallen, and he didn’t know the way home. Tired and shivering, Chippy settled down the soft grass to rest his tired feet.
“Granny, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you! I don’t care about the treasure anymore. I don’t care about being the best. Please come save me!”
Suddenly, the grass behind Chippy rustled. Startled, Chippy turned around, and to his horror, he saw a rat!
“Please, I beg you, don’t eat me!”
The rat approached Chippy and smiled.
“My name’s Poppy. Don’t worry, I’m not like the others, I won’t eat you. Want to be friends?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Chippy introduced himself, and explained his situation to his new friend. Poppy listened, and when Chippy finished, he smiled once more.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back home! I’ve always wanted to leave this place, but the elders disallow it by passing down some silly legend. Follow me!”
Poppy set off under the moonlight, with Chippy close on his tail. They avoided other rats, sneaked past snakes and hid from the owls. They passed by the village of rats, but to their surprise, they saw an owl attacking it!
“Oh no, what should we do? My friends are all going to get eaten!”
Chippy looked at his friend, then he looked at the rats screaming and running in fear. Suddenly, he had an idea. Running to the center of the village, Chippy took in a deep breath, and shouted at the top of his voice.
“Everyone, calm down! I know of a place where you can be safe from the owl! Follow me!”
Heads turned, and one of the rats spoke out.
“Why should we trust you? You’re a hamster!”
Chippy was exasperated, and just when he was about to give up, Poppy came to his aid.
“Please, believe my friend! He means you all no harm, hurry or you’ll all be eaten!”
Trusting in Poppy, the rats reluctantly followed Chippy and ran to the top of Breezy Hill, home to the hamsters.
“What are you all doing here!?”
One of the hamster elders yelled at the rats; he was furious. He turned to Chippy.
“What have you done, you foolish hamster!?”
“Elder, this is no time to be arguing, there’s an owl-“
Just then, the owl landed in the middle of the village of hamsters. The hamsters and rats panicked, and scattered all over the place. Chippy had to figure out how to scare the owl away immediately.
“Everyone, gather around the middle of the village! We’ll scare the owl away with our numbers!”
All of the rodents obeyed without question, and formed a sea of white and gray in the middle of the village. They bared their sharp teeth, growled, and charged at the owl. The owl, realizing it was outnumbered, flew away in fear, leaving the hamsters and rats tired, but safe.
“Hooray for Chippy, the savior of our village!”
Everyone crowded around Chippy and pet him affectionately. Chippy blushed; the others had finally accepted him. From then on, the hamsters and rats lived in harmony at the top of Breezy Hill, and if you ever see a frightened owl flying from that direction, you can guess what happened!


Not really my style, but tell me what you think about it. >:


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jul 16, 2011)

@ Raika

I like it.  I think one small improvement might be to take the *"However, this was just made up to keep the hamsters from interacting with the rats, even though the two species used to live in harmony."* line out of the first paragraph.  I think it may make more sense for the reader to not know that little bit of history.


----------



## chris888222 (Jul 17, 2011)

Haha, welcome back (and thanks) Sterling.


----------



## shyam513 (Jul 17, 2011)

Hey Sterling, Welcome back!. Sorry for being so inactive atm - I'm taking part in an event called camp Nanowrimo - you have to write 50000 words in a month - so it's taking a fair bit of my time. I might just post all 50k on here when I'm done ;P


----------



## Edgedancer (Jul 17, 2011)

I have not been to active recently, much to my dismay. but here is an old essay that I wrote, entitled "There's writing and me." This will shed some light on myself, and also show you a bit more about myself and how I view writing and how my life has changed.

THERE'S WRITING AND ME


Spoiler



As I sit here in front of the computer screen, attempting to start my essay, I am drawing a blank. The lights are off and only the glow of computer screen and power lights of various other electrical in the room shed light upon me. As I attempt to write anything, I delete it almost instantly, only to undo and delete it again. I guess that my issue is that the concept of writing is so vast and I have never really thought about what the essence of writing is. There is also the notion that I am currently in a transition of who I am. I guess the best way to tackle this dilemma is to start right from the beginning.

When I say “the beginning”, I am talking way back to examining the foundations of my love of literacy. I cannot remember a time where I did not write or read. My earliest memory of reading was when I was handed the fateful books series that consumed my reading list up until 2004, when the final book was released. This series was called Deltora Quest  by Emily Rodda. Just saying those words gives me a vivid image of the first novel in the series, “The Forests of Silence.” It was a small novel at only 120 pages but its cover was has stayed cemented in my mind. A knight clad in bronze armour, standing in the middle of a clearing, staring at the reader. And although this would usually entail a piercing glare, no eyes are to be seen, only the black void of his helmet. The novel has now been read countless times buts integrity has remains; no missing pages, no loss of sheen on the cover and the only signs of wear being the wrinkles on the spine. Since “The Forests of Silence” I have been drawn to the genre of fantasy. I have outgrown the franchise now though but I will never forget the series that launched me into reading. 
My earliest recollections of writing comprise of me having sitting in my Year 5 class (age 10), finishing my work early and then being allowed to write stories. Unfortunately, I am unsure of where my writings have gone but I distinctly remember that they comprised of a compilations of every cartoon and TV show I loved at once rolled into a single package. Looking back, I can still remember some parts of the writings and the scenarios I created but I am sure that reading them again would only make me cringe . That is where I believe that my initial writing aspirations began as it was an area in which I really enjoyed. 
It was not until I was in high school until I really appreciated my literary skills. I could comfortably write short stories for assessments and was immensely proud when I got top marks for creating a fictitious newspaper based upon “The Chocolate War.” These memories have bolstered my writing skills but I do not believe that anything made me more proud of my reading and writing abilities than the fact that no-one else seemed to appreciate their own skills. I knew that I was not dramatically more knowledgeable than most others but the fact that I would gladly read a book or simply write  made me feel special and unique. It gave me a drive to develop these skills and want to make use of them, rather than take them for granted. I guess I initially took these skills for granted though, as I was unable to comprehend how much effort and time that my teachers, parents and I put into developing these skills. It was through the lack of motivation by me peers that made me acknowledge my habits. It reminds me of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” when Scout says, “Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.” Although the context is dissimilar and it only references reading, it truly does explain how natural reading and writing have become to me and how it is second nature not to acknowledge skills you are naturally adept in.

My writing has always been a way to escape reality. My writings have always explored ides, situations and characters that are out of reach to me, and as such I can make a character that revels in violence, a fantasy forest that will never exist or looking at the darker side to the world that I see. This desire though, is not born from disinterest in world but a curiosity of exploring the depths of my own imagination and psyche. I find that my mind will consistently amaze me as my writing often reflects ideas that I do not actively think about. An example is a piece of writing I did last year where I talked about an alcohol that contemplates the idea of how alcohol has a hold over him. This is an extract from my writing “I will admit that I enjoyed alcohol. I loved the taste of it, coating my throat in pure euphoria and the warmth that it delivers to my core when I have a sip. Life was great, as long as I kept drinking in moderation.” I particularly liked this quote as I painted a vivid picture about how the protagonist “loved” alcohol but what really amazed me the most was that it was possible while I take a personal stance against drinking alcohol. I refuse to drink alcohol, and it was this mindset that made me attempt to write something that was outside of my comfort zone. I did not actively research this topic either. I simply based my descriptive language upon the various sources  that I have seen and how they portray both the addiction to alcohol and the effects it can have on the people around you.
That was just one of the ideas that I have explored in my desire to find my writing voice. My favourite authors at the moment consist of Matthew Reilly, Brent Weeks, Garth Nix and Robert Ludlum and it is easily seen through my writing. My assessment showed traits of all of these authors as the story was continually moving forwards with the writing being intentionally ambiguous so that the reader feels like they are the protagonist. 
“I dart around a corner and delve underneath a low awning, beckoning the shadows to hide me. I knew these streets well and knew that there was no hiding place from someone that is determined to find you. “
This was the opening paragraph for the assessment and it really set the scene and gave it more of a thriller feel in terms of the protagonist being thrown into the deep end straight away with no reasoning given.
That said however, I do depart from this style when the inspiration takes hold of me. I have not often ventured outside of the action/fantasy genre that dominates my reading list but I have dabbled with a sad story that talks about a young girl that has all that she loves taken away from her. This piece of writing really entertained me as I was writing as it was such a departure from my usual writings and I wanted to see how the story would unfold. I ended up spending a 3 hour block of time on it that seemed like only an hour at most, in which I wrote around 2500 words . 

In examining the essence of writing, I still find it amazing that arbitrary symbols on a page can be the recordings of our entire histories. Denning (Reading to Write) made the point that the past he researches and writes about is “beyond experience and memory...beyond the radar of our various electronic recording systems” and “(the) past I visit is stilled onto paper, millions of pieces of paper. Written on paper. One-off pieces of paper, mostly without copy.” This quote really highlighted the fragility of writing from hundreds of years ago and allows the reader to observe the emotions and experiences that both the writer and his work have experienced. It proves that writing has remained as the primary form of communication and documentation for our civilisation. 
The concept of writing has changed dramatically through the ages. The most elaborate and defining changes occurred in the field of documenting history as it has evolved. The history of history is a vast field but to put it in a nutshell; Herodotus started it, Thucydides refined it, Polybius gave it some social and political context and Gibbon presented the notion that remaining unbiased is impossible due to the history having no meaning until the historian gives it meaning .  This demonstrates how dynamic writing is in only one field of use. If we think about writing and all of the ways can be used, and in turn revised and manipulated, I am able to be seen that evolution has occurred.
But how does this all tie back to writing and me. It ties back, in the sense that I gain a sense of my writing identity from looking at how writing has evolved as an art form. It is how I personally learn and it gives me a context to work with. I have a profound sense of respect for writing as a form of expression.  By recognising how the development of writing goes back to before we can fathom, I feel like a disciple of an ancient art that has flourished in recent years.

I should also examine myself to see how I respond to what I read and write. Some basic facts are that I am currently an 18 year old male. I am quiet and studious but as I mentioned previously, I am in a transition. I hail from the north, in an area known as the Sutherland Shire, a region that is known to be exceptionally sheltered. I have moved to Canberra to study and now I live with my father. Due to this major change in my life, many aspects of my personality have changed as well. I now value my friends more. I took my friends for granted up in Sydney and by moving to an entirely new location, I have been forced to modify my personality. I will now jump at reasons to get out of the house and meet up with friends; while previously, I would stay home in front of the computer. I have become a more open and approachable individual and although I would have once resented changing my image for other people, I have found that I really like the change. I like what I have become but I now feel like I am straddling two worlds, with two different personas that I must adopt . I don’t want to become what I used to be back in Sydney but I generally turn back into that person when I return. I believe that once I manage to overcome this obstacle, I will be a stronger person. 
I am again at the point where I believe that I have to tie this back to how this is relevant to my writing. Although I am unsure if this is applied to me numerous years ago, I now recognise that what I write about seems to be directly affected by happiness and how I am feeling at the moment. During the first couple of weeks, I was still a little apprehensive and nervous, and that was reflected in my writing that I mentioned before about the person that is being chased and needs to hide. Also, when I was feeling sad/worried about a friendship, I wrote a story about a young girl called Agatha who has her life stolen from her. Although I have yet to finish that particular work, I could tell from the first moment I started, that it was going to be a sad story that tugs at the emotional heart-strings . 

My inspiration and motivation behind wanting to become a published author has multiple facets. On one hand, it is due to a sense of egotism that I only have in conjunction with writing. I want to see my name on a bookshelf and know that people are reading it. I want the name “James Hoy” to be known, but that said, I have no desire to become a writer with same level of fandom as “J.K.Rowling” or “Stephen King.” I have a passion for teaching and due to this; my teaching career will support my writing career, not the other way around. My motivation, in another sense is that books have had such a huge impact upon me in my life so far and I wish to try to pay back literature for what it has done for me. I read daily and if I am able to inspire even one person to do the same, I will be pleased with that. Another reason behind my desire to become a novelist is to excel in a particular field. I have grown up with a twin brother who seemed to surpass me in skill in just about anything we did. Soccer, squash, maths and even videogames. It would always frustrate me to no end that I always lost. I surpassed him in one area though, English; in particular reading and writing. He had no desire or motivation to hone his skills in this aspect of life which allowed me to bloom without a shadow hanging over me, and although it is a minor motivational aspect, it is still relevant . Finally, I just want to write a good book because the passion is there. I think that I have a story to tell  and I could bring something of my own to the table. This is an opinion that is shared by most authors, like Brent Weeks (“I’ve known I wanted to be a novelist since I was thirteen”), Matthew Reilly (“My motivation at the time was to write a book that was all action – from start to finish – a book that thrust the reader back into his or her chair because of the sheer pace of the storytelling.”) or Stephen King (“...it’s about enriching the lives of those whole read your work, and enriching your own life, as well.”).

I am looking at my word document and it is now filled with words. Hundreds of words. Thousands of words.  I went into this essay with the mindset that I would be unable to reflect upon myself as a writer but once I started at the beginning, it simply flowed out. It was a natural progression from one area to the next; and by having it very natural, I have actually drawn conclusions about myself that were not apparent before, such as how much my emotions play upon my writing style. I am still developing my writing style and voice but this assignment has been an eye-opener to truths about myself I didn’t know before.



And also, here is a script that I had to write for my screenwriting class. It got me a distinction, and I will be interested to see if you guys agree.

STAINS


Spoiler



EXT. SAM’S HOUSE MORNING 1
High shot looking down on a small, single story house. The house has a feeling of neglect, with the curtains drawn and the garden in need of tending. There is a single car outside a double garage, with the doors wide open and no second car to be found. There is a large backyard with side access through a gate. You see play equipment and toys in neighbouring backyards. The scene remains still in the shot for a while. A child rides past on the bike and throws a newspaper in the front lawn. The date of the newspaper is 15th January, 2011

INT. SAM’S BEDROOM MORNING 2
An alarm goes off. SAM is sprawled over a double bed. The alarm keeps going. Still face down in the pillow. SAM is aggravated by the alarm.

<div align='center'>SAM
Grr...</div>

SAM fumbles blindly for the alarm and knocks it off the bedside table. It bounces on the floor, turning off with the impact and you get a look at under the bed. A pair of female slippers lies underneath, discarded and forgotten. SAM rolls over and lies face up. We see him as a middle-age man. He has a tall, athletic body with dark hair and navy blue eyes. He would be considered very handsome usually but you can see that his face is pale, verging on grey, and his facial hair is messy. SAM puts his hand underneath the pillow and he has a surprised look on his face as he finds something underneath. He pulls it out and holds it in front of his face. Its a pink nightgown. Sam stares at it ...

<div align='center'>SAM
(under breath)
Damn you...</div>

... and throws it away angrily into a corner and lies there in a pink heap. He pulls a pillow over his face. He screams into it. The tendons on his arms tense showing anger and
anguish. After several seconds, the pillow follows the nightgown and he gets out of bed. SAM’s shoulders are slumped and there is no energy in his body, though his fists
remained resolutely closed, betraying his hidden anger. He moves towards the bathroom and slams the door closed. The shot pulls out as the door closes and we see a jacket covering a frame on the wall. The impact of the slam dislodges the jacket from one corner and it falls, revealing SAM’s smiling face and the hand of a woman with a ring on her wedding finger. The noise of running water punctuates the silence.

INT SAM’S BATHROOM MORNING 3
SAM raises his face to look in the mirror. Water is dripping off his face. His eyes are haunted with rings underneath them. His face is pretty much expressionless and sighs as he enters the shower. It cuts to a shot of Sam standing in a shower and his shoulders are slumped as if he just doesn’t care. the water is just flowing over him.

INT. SAM’S BEDROOM MORNING 4
SAM returns from the bathroom and we see a towel wrapped around him. His body language is still depressed he slumps to the wardrobe and dressed in shabby, dark clothing.

EXT. SAM’S BACKYARD MORNING 5
SAM goes out of the backyard and sits down on a chair. There is a second chair but it has dust from lack of use. He just slumps and stares out into the backyard, with the focus appearing on the rose bushes that is overgrown and unkempt. There is a low angle shot that frames the roses in the foreground and it looks up at Sam.

EXT. SAM’S BACKYARD AFTERNOON 6
A door closes quietly in the background and you hear footsteps. A man walks into the scene and leans against the railing, facing Sam. It is his best mate WALTER. The two have known each other for ages and looks the opposite of Sam at the moment, clean, groomed and has a positive outlook of life.

<div align='center'>WALTER
(Very hesitant)
Look mate, you’ve gotta see her.
It’s obvious you still have
feelings for her, no matter how
much you try to hide it.</div>

WALTER swings his arms around and looks at the house, slowly pacing, a way of releasing his tension.

<div align='center'>WALTER
Do you think this is how someone is
meant to live? Its going to be
hard, not one is saying it wont,
but its not going to get better if
you sit around and dwell on it
twenty-four-seven.</div>

WALTER sits down next to SAM after he said this and runs his hands through his hair. He takes a few deep breaths, bracing himself for what he is going to say next.

<div align='center'>WALTER
I came over to give you something
today. I... I wish I could have
given it to you earlier but I
promised... (he pauses over the
final word, as if uncertain as
whether to use it), I promised
Sophie.</div>

With the mention of the name SOPHIE, SAM jerks in his chair a little and blinks. For the first time SAM actually notices Walter and looks intently at him, his eyes betraying the desire to well up with tears.

<div align='center'>SAM
(hushed voice)
Yes...
WALTER
You know that Jess and Sophie were
best friends since school years...</div>

SAM dumbly nods and a wry smile appears on his face, despite the situation.

<div align='center'>WALTER
... and Sophie left her a note to
pass onto you in the event that you
were having trouble moving on. She
said wait 2 months at least but she
hoped the letter would never be
needed.</div>

WALTER pull’s a sealed envelope out of his pocket and it instantly seizes SAM’S attention. His hand reaches out tentatively and, shaking, he takes it and stares at it.

<div align='center'>WALTER
Me and Jess haven’t read the
letter, but we have a good idea of
whatss written in it. I imagine you
would like to be left alone now.</div>

WALTER slaps SAM affectionately on the shoulder, knocking Sam out his trance.

<div align='center'>WALTER
(in a joking manner to try and
lighten the situation)
And without any further a due, I
will make my exit.</div>

A sad smile appears on SAM’s face and he extends his hand to shake. But he realises his hand is still grasping the note so he puts it in his pocket. He extends it again.

<div align='center'>SAM
Thanks mate. You coming here means
a lot to me.</div>

WALTER accepts his hand and shakes.

<div align='center'>WALTER
(with genuine happiness in his
voice)
Any time mate. Any time.</div>

WALTER walks down into the garden and makes to leave through the side house access but he stops and turns around, facing Sam, who is still sitting in his chair.

<div align='center'>WALTER
(with a smile on his face, but
in a bit of a serious tone)
You should really take care of the
roses. i know someone that would
not approve.

SAM
Noted. See ya later.

WALTER
See ya.</div>

SAM just stares at the roses again, lost inside his mind again and WALTER sighs softly and walks through the garden by the side of the house. The gate makes a soft click as it swings back into place .

INT. SAM’S BEDROOM AFTERNOON/EVENING 7
SAM has re-entered the house. It looks much the same but the sun leaves long shadows, revealing the passing of time. As he moves around the house, he turns lights on and when he comes to the bedroom, he notices the large photo frame with his face exposed and hand of a female. SAM pulls the rest of the jacket off the frame and stares at the women, SOPHIE. You see his face go blank and he starts to take some deep breaths. His eyes fixed, his hand scrambles for his pocket to get the note out. He holds it
shakingly in front of him. You see the word "Samuel" handwritten on the front and his finger slowly traces over it. After a short amount of time, his hand drops abruptly and he walks out of the room with purpose.

INT SAM’S KITCHEN EVENING 8
SAM is riffling though the draws of the kitchen bench looking for something. He pulls out a small knife and touches the tip of it, feeling for sharpness.

<div align='center'>SAM
Yes... this will do fine...</div>

He sits himself at a bench and places the knife and letter in front of him. He takes a deep breath...

<div align='center'>SAM
I guess there is no time like the
present</div>

He picks the knife up and slashes the side of the envelope, and pulls the letter that SOPHIE left him out. Hands trembling, he opens the letter and starts reading.

<div align='center'>SOPHIE
(as a voice over)
Sam... I am so sorry. I know that
what I am about to do is going to
hurt you and for that, I can’t
apologise enough. For what its
worth, your the one I never thought
I would hurt. I feel trapped and
only one thing is going to make me
feel better. Please, shed your
fears and try to find love again.
Love, Sophie</div>

SAM just stares at the letter and you see his water drops fall onto the paper. His body shakes and tears cascade but he makes no noise. He does nothing to try and wipe them up but places the letter down and pulls the ring off his finger. He rolls it around his fingers and the tears start to stop falling. He curls his hand into a fist, with the ring in the centre and picks up the knife. He walks out of the scene in a hurry and you hear a door slam behind him.

EXT CEMETERY MORNING 9
There is a solitary man standing in front of a new headstone, in a heavy jacket and hat. The clothes are ironed and neat and he is holding a bouquet of roses in his arms. He pulls his hat off, revealing the face of SAM. Though he is sad, you can also notice that he is neatly groomed. He places the flowers at the foot of the grave and we see a close-up of the headstone. It says SOPHIE Wyatt, July 14th, 1966 - November 15th, 2011.

<div align='center'>SAM
I am sorry I haven’t visited yet. I
just... (deep breath) I just cant
believe that you would leave me
like this.</div>

Anger starts to enter SAM’s voice and we see him pacing
around in front of the tombstone.

<div align='center'>SAM
Did I not dedicate my life to you?
Did I make your life so unbearable
that you couldn’t go on living
anymore?! How could you be so
selfish. I... I... I cant express
what you have done to me in words.
I loved you! I LOVED YOU! And this
is how you repay me...</div>

SAM runs his hands through his hair and calms himself down a little and returns to standing stationary in front of the tombstone.

<div align='center'>SAM
I am not sure when I will return
Sophie. Part of me still loves you,
but I also hate that you killed the
person I thought I knew. So for
now, its goodbye.</div>

SAM kneels down in front of the grave and pulls the ring out of his pocket. He traces his index finger once around it and digs a small hole in the soft ground and buries it. He
stands erect and starts walking off. SAM, raises a single hand as if to wave goodbye to SOPHIE, but he never once looks back.



PS. Please forgive any formatting errors with my script. The format of the script writing software isnt exactly the easiest to use and display on these forums.


----------



## shyam513 (Jul 17, 2011)

@Edgedancer - Nice script! I can see why it got you a distinction. The stage directions are very clear, and leave very little to chance, sot the scene will look exactly the way you imagine it. The speech is very clear and direct, which will keep the audience engaged well imo, unlike some plays where the waffling tends to bore people. I think you've got an excellent talent for scriptwriting. One improvement I might suggest though, is to have more than just one on one dialougue - a monologue to the audience from Sam may be interesting. 

Unrelated side note - the date is my birthday xD


----------



## astrangeone (Jul 20, 2011)

Welcome back!  I haven't been writing lately - just been busy with fixing my cosplay stuff.  (Ness, for your information.)

I'd probably end up posting some new content soon.


----------



## Nujui (Jul 20, 2011)

My dad always takes the easy path whenever we ride.
Though I take the beaten path,
Where it's always bumpy and filled with holes.

Though, at the end of the day
I feel proud.
Proud that I took that path.

Because it shows that no matter how bumpy the road is.
I will always get make ride through it.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jul 23, 2011)

A shining star
With bright lit eyes
Searing truths
Infinite surprise
Reminders of the past gone by
And hints towards where the
future lies...


----------



## Sterling (Jul 23, 2011)

Just an update, my Computer's motherboard is shot. Since that particular motherboard isn't made any more, I'm sol. I can't even upgrade the damn thing because of it propriatary nature. So, in short, there will be even less of me on the temp. I can't even get my internet set up sadly. 
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





I guess I'll go ahead and review Dungeon Siege III while I'm at it.

EDIT: Review Link here.
EDIT: Also, OP has been updated. If you want to act as the leader in my absence then send me a PM.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 25, 2011)

@Sterling - I feel your pain. I've had at least two computers basically fry themselves, and it sucks not having one when you get so used to them [especially when you need them].

Anyway, gone on to Chapter 9 of my horror "novel" [I use that term very tentatively]. And, uh, I didn't finish my editing, figured I'd let it go until the whole thing's finished. I was thinking of posting a part of it to see if the horror vibe [and the action] is working, but it's too graphic [methinks], and might get me in trouble. Hm...


PS
I might actually get to finish a short story for the weekly challenge. I suck at short fiction, it always ends up longer than I expected for some reason.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jul 25, 2011)

@Shinigami357

you can pm me a portion to check out


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 25, 2011)

Old8oy said:
			
		

> @Shinigami357
> 
> you can pm me a portion to check out




Ok, I'm gonna take you up on that.


----------



## shyam513 (Jul 26, 2011)

@Shinigami, same here XD - I'm free to do some editing atm


----------



## astrangeone (Jul 27, 2011)

I'd be posting some lesbian slash horror soon.  (With the more...interesting parts edited out.)  I've been reading a whole lot, and it's been quite inspiring.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jul 27, 2011)

I'm going to be posting this Sonic thing I did a while ago. It's called Sonic Love, and it's like a romantic version of the series.


----------



## Sterling (Jul 27, 2011)

ShinyJellicent12321 said:
			
		

> I'm going to be posting this Sonic thing I did a while ago. It's called Sonic Love, and it's like a romantic version of the series.


Oh God. You may post it, but make sure it's good. I may have to put a limit on fan fics per year lest others do it too. Let it be known that writing about other's characters is wrong. Now if you made up your own character and inserted it into the world of Sonic, then that would be awesome.


----------



## Nujui (Jul 27, 2011)

Umm, not to sound rude here but what's wrong with writing about other characters?


----------



## Edgedancer (Jul 28, 2011)

KirbyBoy said:
			
		

> Umm, not to sound rude here but what's wrong with writing about other characters?


I dont think I am passionate about this point as Sterling, but I would prefer people to create their own characters and universe, since it removes all of the connotations and assumptions that we will have about the subject matter. Plus, an important part of writing is to be able to create your own unique characters that have their own motivations. Its more interesting in my opinion as Sonic, Tails, Amy, Knuckles etc already have set characters that dont allow for a development arc.


----------



## Nujui (Jul 28, 2011)

I understand that, though I don't think it's wrong to write fanfiction once in awhile. I actually see it as maybe a starting point for writing, I've started out writing fanfiction once, the people that reviewed it actually gave me some good advice and told me of my mistakes. Though, it's not like I just use just the characters given, I make my own as well. Ever since then I've been improving, and reading back on it, I noticed all of my problems from grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes and switching from 3rd to 1st person a lot. Comparing that to others I've written, I say I've improved a lot.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jul 28, 2011)

I think one of the major issues with fan-fics is that people generally have an idea as to how they feel a certain character should/would react in a certain situation.  Fan-fics tend to either have well known characters making uncharacteristic decisions or a lot of fluffy/cliche dialogue/action.  This makes fan-fic difficult to read for many.

This obviously isn't as much of a problem with original characters...


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 28, 2011)

Mostly, I think because first and foremost, writing is an act of self-expression. What we create is in essence an extension of us. Writing in a preexisting universe, with characters that cannot fully express what we wish them to, in a way holds back our creativity. And holding back on our creativity limits the possibilities of our self-expression.

That's my take on it.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jul 28, 2011)

true dat

writing should express what you think and how you feel.  you'll ultimately get a lot more out of it if you create something new and of you.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jul 28, 2011)

Sterling said:
			
		

> ShinyJellicent12321 said:
> 
> 
> 
> ...


There's like, 5 new characters or something. I don't really enjoy fanfics either, because it's not fun to have the characters and other things laid out for you. I respect everyone's opinions, but this is not a fanfic. I'll get to posting it tomorrow after I correct the millions of typos (I typed sloppy before, and I have to change my descriptive language because sometimes it doesn't make sense).


----------



## Sterling (Jul 28, 2011)

On the subject of fanfics, you're all right. Like Edgedancer, Old8oy and Shinigami say, the characters of someone else's creation are already defined, and it's wrong to change their character and other core values and decisions. I have nothing against original characters and stories, but fanfics are often un-researched, poorly written works. That being said, I will be allowing it, but I would prefer to see original characters, and universes. If nothing else, make your own story set in an existing universe.

@SJ12321: I'm looking forward to reading it.


----------



## Nujui (Jul 28, 2011)

Understandable. I was just asking is all. I just think fanfics as a way to just start out is all.


----------



## Blaze163 (Jul 28, 2011)

That reminds me, I have a new chapter of one of my FF7 fanfics to upload. Had people bugging me about it for a while so I suppose I should get round to doing something.


----------



## shyam513 (Jul 28, 2011)

I've nearly finished the 50000 words of novel I was writing this month. I obviously can't post the wholet hing here, but there are some bits I'd like tolet you guys see. What the max post here, Sterling?


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jul 29, 2011)

you could always pastebin it or something and drop the link here or PM the link to Guild members only if you're worried someone might try to pilfer your work.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 29, 2011)

shyam513 said:
			
		

> I've nearly finished the 50000 words of novel I was writing this month. I obviously can't post the wholet hing here, but there are some bits I'd like tolet you guys see. What the max post here, Sterling?




When I first read that novels are usually 50k+ words, I was like "No way in hell I can try writing something that long." So of course I tried.   
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





  I'm at 46k now, and I'm like "50k words sounds awfully short, I need a few more chapters."

Sounds real hard to do the whole thing in 1 month though. How is/was it? That's, uh, 1666 words or so a day for 30 days? 


I think Olb8oy is right, you can always PM it or something. Depends on your preferences, I suppose, but formatting is a bit hard here [i.e. you have to re-do each bolded, italicized, underlined part, etc manually], if you happen to need it in the story. In any case, I'd love to read it.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jul 29, 2011)

I'm almost wondering if it might be worth sharing our stuff via FTP...  Just uploading updates as they are available and giving members access to the items any time.  We could also upload edits for each other...

edit...

okay, I have an idea...

would anyone be interested in a separate Google site where we could share our work?  We could continue to run applications and gather here at GBAtemp and just use a separate place for sharing and editing, since we all have so much to say and not a lot of room to say it.


----------



## shyam513 (Jul 29, 2011)

Well, it won't be 50k till the end of the month, and it need some major editing. Hoping to have the proof copy in my hands by september though. Also - the ftp's not a bad idea either - I've got volumes of stuff I've written here XD


----------



## Sterling (Jul 29, 2011)

Actually, that's not a bad idea Old8oy. Would you mind setting it up? The only reason I ask is because I have no idea how to even start.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Aug 1, 2011)

Again, it's going to take me awhile because my parents took away my computer and I don't have much time to go on, less time to access GBAtemp and my files.
And besides, my flashdrive erased my files again and I have to use TestDisk. 
I do have the file, but it's on my computer, which I know where it is but I can't use it. :| My sister doesn't let me.
The story will come eventually. 
---
@Sterling
You want to create a Google Group? You can also share stuff from there, I believe.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Aug 1, 2011)

We're already working on it 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	



(in our little spare time)


----------



## Shinigami357 (Aug 3, 2011)

Hm... Just a thought, but, does the Temp have any regular book reviews at all?

At the moment I'm on a little hiatus on my writing due to physical and mental constraints [though I have gone back to the beginnings of Ch. 9 just now, just trying to get back on the rhythm]. However, I do have half a mind to do a book review, partly coz it sounds fun, partly because it gives me a way to see exactly why I like the books I like and hate the ones I hate [though to be perfectly frank, why on earth would I review a book I loathe? *cough*twilight*cough*].

Should I try it?


EDIT: The official reviews section seems to be for games/hardware only, so if I do try this, I'd prob put it in BMT&M. Hm...


----------



## shyam513 (Aug 3, 2011)

@Shinigami - I did one for my reviewers position. It's on pg6, and is based on the book Northern Lights. If you want some more, I've got plenty here


----------



## wrettcaughn (Aug 5, 2011)

everyone who would like an upload page at the site please let me know either here or via PM.


----------



## Nujui (Aug 5, 2011)

I wouldn't mind one.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Aug 5, 2011)

okay, check that... PM me the email address that you'd like to sign-in with.

each member is listed by their GBAtemp username so if you would like to be known by some other name there, please let me know.


----------



## shyam513 (Aug 6, 2011)

I wouldn't mind one either.


----------



## Sterling (Aug 7, 2011)

Let me know when I need to update the OP with a upload page notice on request.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Aug 7, 2011)

should be ready for an OP update 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




in the meantime, members can continue to PM me for access


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Aug 9, 2011)

My submission for this week's challenge. (That Sonic thing is literally going to have to wait. I'm seriously booked.)
---
The lightning descends, striking with a mighty, shocking blow. 
The pain splits through your body, but mainly your heart.
The tornado rages angrily through your body, playing with your emotions.
The drizzle of rain finally escapes your body.
The mind realizes the true meaning.
The meaning of grief. 
---
Sorry, no Sonic thing anymore. Don't ask why, either. Because you really do not want to know. =-_="


----------



## Shinigami357 (Aug 11, 2011)

OK, I'm trying to get back into my groove [it's a long story - the tl;dr version is that my mom got sick at the end of June and isn't fully recovered yet, so my focus that used to be centered on my writing is wrecked]. I did finish part 8 of my "novel"-in-the-making, so I guess I'm still semi-functional to some extent. Just not to the level I want to maintain.

Anyway, I'll give out weekly challenge a go real soon [hopefully my seeming allergy to short fiction does not crop up]. Also, I'm intrigued by the whole uploading idea.

@Old8oy - PM you soon about that.

Anyway, that's all I have for now. Gotta get back to writing.


EDIT:

Quick question to all Brits and Americans. I've written most of the story mostly using a more "Americanized" version of the English language. I'm doing some edits now, and I notice I used the term "fortnight" [which is 2 weeks], which as far as I'm informed, is very British. Should I change that?


----------



## wrettcaughn (Aug 11, 2011)

I don't see any problem with using fortnight whether British or American.


----------



## shyam513 (Aug 11, 2011)

Fortnight is fine.  I mean, I'm british, so I might say that, but everyone knows what it means


----------



## Shinigami357 (Aug 13, 2011)

This is for the short story challenge [which prob means I'm screwed, LOL]. Gonna try it [again].

This is based on this thing I read that goes:

The shortest horror story: The last man on earth sits in a room. Suddenly, a knock on the door.



Spoiler



Here we are. Or rather here I am. Humanity is gone. I'd search for any survivors, were it not for the extremely toxic conditions outside. I doubt they'd survive too long, anyway.

I'm not entirely sure if what finished us off was the nuclear holocaust or the sudden climate shift. I suppose it doesn't matter. Really, the only reason we care why something is extinct is so we can learn from it. Obviously, the human race is never gonna learn anything ever again. That's always been our problem.

I look back. Why am I the one who got left here, alone? I'm not special. I'm not strong, gifted, intelligent, or even totally morally-upright. If anyone else was here to pass judgment, not even I would pick myself to represent our species.

But I digress. Here I am waiting for the end, for better or worse. Hell, even if the status quo stays - which looks likely by all indications - I won't be here for much longer, anyway. Perhaps I've already lost my mind. As it is, I'm already talking to myself. Certainly, watching the world you once knew crumble, alone, would be easier if you were insane, wouldn't it?

Even if I hadn't already fallen off the deep end, I will, soon. Either from lack of companionship - couldn't they have spared even a dog? - or from lack of proper nutrition. The rations I have will last hundreds of years judging by volume, true enough, but perhaps due to lack of human foresight - who would have thought we'd all be gone this early? - all of them expire in two months. Two. They might be good for another half a year, but soon enough, there won't be a thing left.

What should I do? Do I eat myself? Maybe that isn't so hard if you're crazy. Or should I save myself from it altogether? After all, who is there to stop me from taking my own life? Right now, no one else has any rightful claim to it. It's not like it will be a big loss for the human race. It's now or later, one way or the other, right?

What's that sound? Is it perhaps a product of my imagination? Did something mangle my mind when I was still exposed outside? Or perhaps I really have gone crazy? There's no way someone outside survived this long, right?

There it is again. It's unmistakeable, really, a knock on the door. Back in the old days, such a thing was the rule rather than the exception. Door-to-door salesman? Girl scout selling cookies? Some guy with a package? My, how things change, huh?

Well, better go answer it. It's not like there's an outside chance there's an axe murderer waiting outside.



It's essentially one long-winded monologue. I wanted to present the conundrum - the enigma, even - of how it could feel to be the last man on earth. Some of it is even my own introspection. Scary, isn't it?


----------



## Gahars (Aug 18, 2011)

Alright, sounds good.


User Name: Gahars

Area of Expertise: I do a little bit of everything, but I mostly stick to narratives.

First Language: English

Activity: I've just joined, but I tend to be pretty active. Even when school starts, I should manage, at the very least, a few posts a day.

How often do you write?: Often, whenever I have the time and inspiration.

Sample:


Spoiler



Mortality, Inc.

In the Et Life Spire, the largest building on the face of the planet, the receptionist stared at her newly painted nails, admiring the new color combination she had chosen. After 200 years of just yellow, she enjoyed the mix up. When one has the rest of eternity to look forward to, a little spontaneity breaks up the monotony, even if just for a little while.
Her quiet, uneventful day was broken up when a man, with the looks of a supermodel and the clothing of a vagrant, barged in. “Oh great,” she thought. “Another death seeker.”
“What do you mean I have to wait another 3 thousand years before I can even be reconsidered for euthanization?” he screamed, in a frenzied rage. Were it not for her indestructibility, she would have been genuinely frightened by this display instead of just quietly amused. “This is the fifth time I have applied, how can they decline me again?”
The receptionist rolled her eyes, having heard similar complaints thousands of time since she had been employed the year before. Following the procedure, she gave him the standard greeting in a dry monotone. “Welcome, sir, to the Et Life Spire, your one and only stop for life scheduling. How may I be of service to you today?”
“You can start by just killing me, that’s how you can help me!”
It was always the same response from these people, every single time. Not a week went by where she didn’t hear at least five people beg for their lives to be ended. She wished that once, just once, one of these death seekers would surprise her. Perhaps one would be grateful for the extra time; that would be a welcome change of pace. Alas, she doubted that she would ever be so fortunate.
“I’m sorry, sir, but as you must know, the Panel has the final say on this matter, not me. You’re going to have to wait for reconsideration, just like all the others.”
The man looked at her with a pitiful sense of desperation in his eyes. For a second, she almost felt sorry for this one. “Please,” he begged, “I have lived for over a hundred thousand years, and I just can’t go on anymore. I’m tired, and I just want to end it all. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“If the Panel wants you alive, then you will remain alive. No ifs, ands, or buts. In the mean time, why don’t you try something new? How about gender reassignment? Or you could always join one of those new cults.” She paused, trying to recall the name of the group her friend had joined just seven decades before, when it suddenly came to her. “The Mortalists, especially, are supposed to be a fun and exciting bunch. My friend joined recently, and she just loves it. Once she starts talking about them, she can’t stop.”
The death seeker’s look of desperation and hopelessness only worsened. “I have done all those things, and more, thousands of times already. I’ve done everything there is to do; there is nothing left for me to try.”
The woman responded in a chipper tone, sensing, to her relief, that her time with this man was almost done. “Well, sir, I don’t know what else I can say. You’re going to have to wait your turn to die. But hey, try to look on the bright side. I’m sure you’ll find something to pass the time with. Better luck next time!”
The man, overcome with despair, lethargically turned to the exit and shuffled out the door, muttering, “I’ve tried, and I’ve tried, but every single time…”
As he left, the receptionist remembered to give the standard farewell. “Thank you for choosing Et Life, your only, best choice. We hope to see you again soon.” However, by the time she had uttered these words, the sliding doors had already closed behind the death seeker. “Eh, whatever, I tried,” she thought.
She could never understand these people and their desire for death’s cold embrace. They had the gift of immortality and eternal youth bestowed upon them for free, a gift unlike any other, yet they were still so ungrateful. Instead of being thankful, Et Life received more and more requests for euthanization every single day.
“The nerve of some people,” she said aloud as she returned to admiring her freshly painted fingernails.



Hope you enjoy it.

Also: I'd like to get into reviewing too, so whenever I get around to doing a few reviews, I'll add that application, too.


----------



## Sterling (Aug 18, 2011)

@ Gahars: I like that excerpt. The entire concept I have yet to see fully fleshed out anywhere. I would go so far to say original, but alas many things are hard to call that. If it becomes something more, I would buy a book like that in a heartbeat. At any rate, you are an astounding writer. I like the way you portray immortals. I would assume that would be my exact sort of reaction. Hahaha. Welcome to the Guild.


----------



## Gahars (Aug 19, 2011)

Wow, thanks a lot.

I don't tend to show my writing to a lot of people, so positive feedback is always nice.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Aug 22, 2011)

Gahars said:
			
		

> Wow, thanks a lot.
> 
> I don't tend to show my writing to a lot of people, so positive feedback is always nice.



If you have more you'd like to share I can set you up on the sharing site.  just PM me an email address for permissions.


----------



## Gahars (Aug 25, 2011)

Sounds good, I'll just have to find/write up more first. Thanks.


----------



## Sterling (Aug 27, 2011)

I just added a new story to my upload page. Here is an excerpt:



Spoiler



I swung the 'fridge door closed. I looked at the bright red apple I had pulled from the basket, and polished it on my shirt. It was tasty looking, but I held on to it for a moment and inspected the fridge. It was a newer model. Which was good. It would have to last a long time before any more sears opened up. I stepped away from the fridge and walked to the spacey living room where my companions were relaxing in whatever space they could. There were piles of non-perishable supplies and heaps of many varied munitions. Everybody had their choicest weapons near them.

Sitting in a corner was the once loud, proud and heavyset Zaius. His real name was Greg, but he referred to himself as Zaius. The nickname stuck. The long year we have had however has made him lose weight, and the death of his family has made him quiet and somber. He is a much loved member of the group. He was ironically declared crazy before the outbreak hit, but his sense was just an act. He woke up just as hard as the rest of us.	

In the opposite corner was Ralph. He was huddled in an involuntary fetal position. He had totally lost it when the infection hit. He was already borderline crazy before but the sight of the Zombies had caused him to crack. You see, he believes he is Link from The Legend of Zelda.  He collected many things from the games. His collection included a fully functional replica of the Master Sword. A Hylian Shield, and a full Kokari outfit. When we found him, he was telling his stuffed faery Navi to shut the hell up. The odd thing was the sheer amount of undead that littered his lawn, house and room. We got as much as we could out of him, and the rest we got on the way with “Navi” as the mediator. He had taken the first step out of his room in a week. What he saw was a ton of “Re-Deads”. So he slowly backed into his room and played the Song of Suns on his exact replica Ocarina. Then the sun rose... Three hours later. The first thing he did was to open his door and toss the stuffed Faery at the Zombies. All the while he screamed, “SHUT THE HELL UP DAMMIT!!11!” The rest you know. There were none left to die again.

Sitting out on the enclosed porch were Jackie and Ross. Ross was polishing a huge grenade launcher we had liberated from a gang that didn't deserve it. (Long story.) He didn't look at it, but that was because his body has the ability to remember any motion without fail. He has some medical background and has been my friend through some crazy shit.

Jackie on the other hand was a small quiet girl. You wouldn't know it by looking at her, but she was a amazing sniper. She could put a .30-06 into rotting flesh from two football fields away. Another thing about her was she was crazy into anime. She even wore a shirt that depicted a main character from some obscure anime. We couldn't pass up any video store we passed on the highway if we took her scavenging. Not even the adult stores since we found the owner's stash of completely legal and non hentai anime.

Lying near the fireplace was Tony. He had a large scar running from the base of his neck to his belly button. I still remember how he got it. I'm still shocked that he survived. Idiot. He was a good shot, and a constant source of amusement at his denial of the infection. If we didn't know better, we'd say he was as cracked as Ralph.

In the big old armchair was Jordan. An enigma in itself, he was prone to accidents and zombie attacks. If we wanted to know if a building was infested, we just shoved him in first. The last few times he volunteered. Only because he knew if anyone would die first it would be him. The only reason he was in the armchair was because to get the privilege we drew straws. He won every time. It's the only luck he's had.

Riyo was sitting in the last available corner. He had his nose buried in a large volume. It was a manual for the well pump we have here. He was our handyman. He has kept the place running almost by himself. Of course he asked us from time to time to help, but we were “as dumb as a sack of bricks” as his Aunt would have put it. He alone has instructed us how to set up the mounted flame throwers fed by a new gas well. Electrified fences and lance pits with incinerators at the bottom. He was also working on a Plasma gun that shot bolts of pure energy. Melvin has eagerly nicknamed it the “Plasma Cutter”.


Who is Melvin? Well, he is the person who pretty much holds the entire group's moral together. He cracks jokes and funny stories at all hours of the day. He keeps kill counts, and scavenge assists. All the while still being the best shot out of all of us except Jackie, and me with a bow. When the infestation happened, he remarked that he's been waiting for this forever. He began living the American Dream when the Americans became a dying breed. His call sign starts with a head shot and ends with dismemberment. You fuck with his friends and you lose your genitals not so gently. He is the Jack of Headshots, and the Master of Dismemberment. An arm for an eye, and for that same eye, the rest of your limbs.

Me? Well I hate to talk about myself, but I'm the most kind and trustworthy guy left. I'm outgoing, trustful to a fault, and my aim is never too far from a target. I'm silent but deadly, with reflexes to boot. I'm the last thing you never see. I'm usually calm and composed, but lately I've been having trouble procuring my psychiatric medications to keep me as such. So I have to stop by any drugstore I see to get in touch with a pharmacist. As I remembered what happened to each of us in the first forty eight hours of the infestation, I took my first bite of my apple.


----------



## Sterling (Aug 31, 2011)

Op has been updated.

Also, apologies for the double post.

//Op has been updated again.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Sep 5, 2011)

Wait, uh... Old8oy changed his username, apparently... I was like "who is this???" for a while there... LOL, anyway...

I've now just started to fully get out of a funk I'm having [more details on my newest blog], and back to my usual writing. In any case, I'd like to see what you guys think of this excerpt. It's basically the last part of the first chapter of this other story I'm writing.

[long wall of text follows]


Spoiler



It was the same nightmare. It varied very slightly each time, but it was no more a memory than an infinitely-looped sequence of events. Raven had gone through it each time, studying everything there was that he could study. It was a welcome distraction, and now that he knew he would have to move soon, it was all the more important to study it.

The sky was the same, at least as far as he could compare from what he sees in his nightmares and outside the window. The surroundings, on the other hand, were worlds apart. There were no trees; most buildings were reduced to ruins and debris. Even the air stank. Furthermore, in his nightmares, there was very little life.

There was only him and the unknown man, and on the skies above, the occasional dark figure soaring past. Just them and some ravens. There were no signs of life elsewhere.

Raven expected the nightmare to end, as it always did, after he had slain the man. It was an established pattern- every night, in the deepest of his REM sleep, the nightmare would start. It would go on, in first-person, until he realizes he’s bleeding, and then it ends. For some reason, every time, he wakes up screaming, as if in extreme pain.

Raven retracts the weapon on his arm, not bothering to look at the headless figure a few paces behind him. His midsection flares up in pain, and he looks down, seeing blood. A sound rang out, and he listens to a conversation he is having with someone from “ground control”. The man calls him XY-357, and tells him to stand by for extraction. Shortly after, he is engulfed by light.

The next thing Raven sees is Chloe’s face, horrified as she looks at him. He wakes up, sweating, but not shouting like usual. He bolts out of the bed, and opens the window. He stuck his head out, taking his surroundings in - the monitoring equipment and IV line that anchored him to the bed was removed after he was cleared following yesterday’s battery of tests. He took in the trees, the buildings, the faraway park, the cars cruising past, the various flora and fauna.

One thing was sure - if the memory in his recurring nightmares is real, he wasn’t from anywhere near here.


...


The "nightmare" referenced is here:

Raven opened his eyes. A figure limped away from him, making very slow progress as he struggled with his footing. It smelled. The stench of decay and destruction assaulted his nose. Where was he? What was happening?

Then, without warning, his arm moved. Wait… _His _arm? It moved, seemingly of its own accord, and he watched as a strange, glowing blade grew out of his forearm. A weapon, moreover it was _his_ weapon. There was no time for further thought - as though by instinct, he focused on the figure in front of him. It was strange, unnerving almost: heartbeat and respiration slowed down, muscles tensed up, pupils constricted, focusing only on the living thing before him.

He knew at once what he was doing, - one doesn’t draw his weapon on a whim - but there was nothing to be done about it. Everything after that happened so fast. One lunge, one swing of the arm - he didn’t even turn back around to check on the carcass. After that, the weapon on his arm was gone, as though it knew that its job was finished. Then he looked down, and saw he was bleeding.


....

NOTE:
-  The nightmare is itself a reference to the prologue.  
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




  Yeah, I know... I didn't include it here because it was too long.
-  REM [rapid-eye movement] sleep is when most of the dreams we remember occur.
-  Raven [the main character; Chloe is the other] is in a hospital at the time. [That's the second time I wrote a first chapter situated in a hospital]



Did it work? The purpose is to specify the differences between his nightmares/memories and the present. As it is, the whole thing ends with the realization that he is not from there [or here, rather, since the overall setting is Earth].


----------



## Gahars (Sep 5, 2011)

It's just a little difficult to tell overall without the rest of the story for context, but from what you've provided, yeah, I would say it works.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Sep 5, 2011)

Well, for the most part of what little of the story there is [just the prologue, ch1 and a bit of ch2 right now], the whole "nightmare/memory" thing isn't very integral yet. It's mostly character development and setting up [I'm a "slow burn" kind of writer, I guess]. As it is, right now the whole interaction between chapter 1 and the prologue is to start creating the link between the character in the prologue to the character in the rest of the proceeding chapters [because they're more-or-less the same], and is the reason for needing to show the contrast.

Or at least that's how it is in my head, which is why I wanted the feedback. It's much appreciated.


----------



## Gahars (Sep 6, 2011)

Alright, posting a little review I typed up less than a week ago as my writing.

As for the planning... I have none. I generally don't like to preplan too much of my writing; I find I write better when I improvise as I go along, only returning later to fix any continuity mistakes.



Spoiler



Babylon 5, Season 4: Episode 22, The Deconstruction of Falling Stars

(There shouldn’t be any major spoilers here for anyone who is interested. I try to list all the details as basically as possibly. Still, if you don’t want the details to be spoiled at all, take note.)

Whenever somebody mentions science fiction, the big names like Star Trek instantly come to mind, and for good reason. These are the shows that made the medium respectable on television, and over the past 40 or so years, have attracted numerous devotees. While there can be no understating their importance, one series seems to be criminally ignored by many to this day: Babylon 5.

Babylon 5 was the dream project of prolific writer J. Michael Straczynski (He’s done everything from the Amazing Spider-Man comic series to the movie Changeling), a space opera following the many inhabitants of the eponymous space station as war between ancient races and conspiracies come to light. The show was, in its creators own words, “a five season long miniseries”: everything had been planned out from the very beginning, with almost every single episode tying into the well thought out plot.

The show, despite all of its positive traits, faced serious setbacks in its fourth season, when it appeared that it could face cancellation. Many of the plotlines had to be condensed, with some others either left vague or ignored, in order to give the show a proper resolution. This is apparent in the final episode of the season, which acts also acts as a series finale of sorts (luckily it was renewed at the last second, giving Straczynski the five seasons he had anticipated). Despite the challenge of concluding a storyline that hadn’t really been concluded, the episode managed to pull it off spectacularly. 

The episode begins with the characters celebrating the marriage between two of the main characters along with the birth of a new alliance in the “present day” (The year 2262). The many difficult wars and struggles the characters have faced lie behind them now; all they can focus on is the bright future ahead of them.

We then see that what we are actually viewing is a recording, observed by a mysterious figure interested in all the archives relating to the main characters. The rest of the episode shows us, the viewer, these glimpses into the future of the universe.

The first segment, set in the same year, shows a very Fox News/CNN like news channel, called ISN, having several pundits debate over the merits of the decisions the cast has made over the course of the series. It’s almost a perfect recreation of the type of programming these channels hold today; without the reference to future events, it could be difficult to tell the difference.

The next one takes us 100 years to the future, where several historians are dissecting the hype around the Captain of B5 and his wife. They claim that they were not actually significant, but instead merely latched onto popular tides. This is notable for hinting at many of the plotlines to come and the disastrous outcomes, along with the Telepath war that was built up throughout the shows run.  This isn’t the first time the series used the future to foreshadow the past, a technique used consistently throughout the show.

The next segment is 500 years past the present, set in a holographic projection. A fascist, very 1984-like branch of Earth is attempting to expand its borders and brake away from the alliance created by the B5 crew. To do this, one of the members has created replicas of the crew, down to their personalities, in order to create new “historical” videos to cast them in a bad light. This is a nice call back to the despotic reign of President Clarke (also very 1984-like; JMS must have been a big fan), and gives Garibaldi, the chief of security, one last victory for “the good guys”. 

(This is a little off topic, but two great moments from this part are when Captain Sheridan and Doctor Franklin are programmed to act as evil dicks. The actors evidently had a lot of fun playing up their evilness, and seeing them act so out of character is darkly humorous. The gleam in Richard Biggs (whose character cares more for the wellbeing of his patients than his own) eyes as he relents the fact that children aren’t surviving vivisections is priceless.)

The next video in the archive takes place 1000 years after the series. The war from the previous segment sent man back to the Bronze Age, and most have turned away from the dangers of science. Only a single order of monks has taken it upon themselves to preserve and rebuild the old technology. The characters of the show have now become the stuff of legends, similar to King Arthur and his round table, with much doubt left over whether or not they even existed. Babylon 5, despite JMS being a noted Atheist, always treated the subject of religion very respectfully, and this vignette is no different. A great quote from the episode, cementing the ongoing theme that both rationality and faith are important in the human condition, goes, “Faith and reason are the shoes on your feet. You can travel further with both than you can with just one.” Even as a non-believer myself, I appreciate the respectful tone.

Finally, the archive ends, and we are now one million years in the future. The figure, a robed man, saves the information and sends it along to “New Earth” for an upcoming celebration, content with his findings. As he walks away, with news of an imminent supernova, we see that man has ascended physical forms to become beings of energy (similar to the Vorlons before them). As his ship flies away, the sun explodes, taking Earth with it.

Finally we return to the present, with the Captain and his wife in bed, wondering if, in the end, their actions meant anything in the grand scheme of history. The episode has given us the answer, that yes, our efforts always matter. It’s a simple ending, but also quite powerful. 

And honestly, that is the biggest problem with the episode. It is too perfect of an episode; with a season left to watch, I’m hesitant about continuing. After all, when you make this good of an ending, how do you possibly top it?

Still, on its own, this is a great episode that really stands out from an already great television series, and definitely worth watching. If you have never heard of Babylon 5, then I highly recommend that you give it a watch; while the effects and costuming could occasionally suffer from the low budget, the series as a whole never faltered. 

-Gahars



Warning: It is kind of long.


----------



## DrOctapu (Sep 12, 2011)

A Thousand Needles
Didn't write this, not that talented. A (dying, currently hospitalized) friend of a friend did.


----------



## shyam513 (Sep 14, 2011)

Hey guys, sorry I've been away. My A levels just started, and so I've been incredibly busy trying to hit the ground running. To make up for it, here's a short excerpt of my current novel



Spoiler



If I live to be as old as those Ichrath that I was soon to meet, I doubt I would ever again see a sight as beautiful and terrifying as the one laid out before me. As I drew up my horse, and looked around the glade where we were, I could not help but shiver, for the glade was beautiful, but also felt as if it were in the grasp of some strange and otherworldly power, one far greater than my own. 
For in this glade, no matter where one looked, one could not see the passing of time. Over the time it had taken us to arrive here, we had passed well into winter, yet all the trees here held all their leaves. Even though a gentle breeze was stirring in the glade, the trees did not move, as if they were fixed in place. As I rode over to one, I noticed a drop of dew, which must have recently fallen from one of the leaves. The dew did not fall. It merely stayed suspended on the leaf, as if held there by one of the invisible threads of fate. Looking at the leaf, and the dew upon it, frozen thus for the whole of eternity, I could not help but shudder at the thought of the power behind the one who could command an entire forest to halt in it tracks, to ignore the primal commands of nature. And, for once in my life, I was truly afraid. For whatever powers were at work in that glade, I knew then that they were far greater than mine could ever hope to be. Across the glade, Kaelani seemed to be similarly affected, and as I rode over, I saw what it was that had caught her attention. A butterfly, with its wings spread wide, was perched on a leaf, as if preparing to fly for the first time. But, like everything else, it was frozen in place. It was bound by the power that rules over all our lives – the unrelenting power of time.



P.S For the record, the Ichrath are a race of immortals


----------



## Sterling (Sep 17, 2011)

Just an update for you all, I haven't had access to a reasonable computer for days so I haven't been able to update the OP for a bit. I just started classes to become a full fledged PC IT guy. In 16 weeks I will have enough knowledge and experience a guy with 3 years of work environment experience will have. It's tough going, but I'm getting the hang of it slowly. (Anyone ever heard of Scott Mueller?)(Lol)


----------



## Sterling (Sep 22, 2011)

Apologies for the double post (again), but the OP has been updated with a new challenge of the week.

My dad is great
He doesn't mind when I date
He's honest and out going
Even though his back is losing

My mother is awesome
He love always blossoms
Without my mom I'd be no one
I'd be all by my lonesome

My brother for keeping his space
Even though his intellect loses the race
He's kind and nice
He's even cool as ice

Without my grand father I would go no farther
He's always been there with encouragement
With him around there is no I can't
My love for him springs from the same well as his daughter

My grand mother lo and behold a saint
With her around there is no complaint
She's a pacifist throughout
A peacemaker no doubt


----------



## Blaze163 (Sep 28, 2011)

You guys know I write a hell of a lot. Reviews, Top Ten lists, serious articles, text books, novels, pretty much anything that be committed to paper via the gift of the word I've tackled at some point. So if I'm welcome to, I'd like to join this here guild.

USER NAME: Has always been and will always be Blaze163

Area of Expertise: Top Ten lists, reviews, fiction stories, fanfics, you name it I can do it.

First Language: English is my only real language. I can speak a little French, Japanese, and Al Bhed, but none of them seem to come in handy for anything other than insults or chat-up lines 
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




Activity on the 'temp: I write a new blog whenever I'm bored, I'm usually cruising the message boards in the background most of the day even if I don't post much, and I write top ten lists to be posted as blogs usually once a month, but I've been a bit lax with it recently...

Work Samples: See blogs, top ten lists published a while back, etc. Two of my top ten lists were made featured blog for the month. 

I can write, review, or whatever. Just need an outlet for my creative side more than anything.


----------



## Sterling (Sep 29, 2011)

I've seen your work Blaze. Welcome to the guild sir.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Sep 29, 2011)

Been a while since I've posted anything here.  Been busy but I've still been writing, more music than words though.

Here's a song I'm working on right now.  Not quite finished but it fits with the challenge for this week so here goes:



Spoiler



*Not So Easy*
Oh Lord,
What have I done
To deserve such a beautiful, shining sun?

The fire
It burns so bright
I'd let it scorch my eyes just for one look at that light

I know.
Lord I know
I've made mistakes
And I see
I see
They can never change
I can only hope for forgiveness

The seasons
They will change
But the cold and the bitter hearts always remain

So many lessons
Learned the hardest way
Watch the burning man drown because that's the price he pays

I know.
Lord I know
I've made mistakes
And I see
I see
They can never change
I can only hope for forgiveness
I can only hope, some day, they'll understand




Edit:  finished song...


----------



## p1ngpong (Sep 29, 2011)

The first three parts of a story I gave up on because of a lack of interest. I originally envisaged it to be a six part story. Should I finish it?

Malcolm Chapter 1



Spoiler



I am cold and hungry, wet and lonely. Its a really bitter night, every night has been like this since I've been out here. At least this doorway cuts out the wind a little, these boxes help. But my feet are freezing, like blocks of ice, I cant really feel them any more, I just feel numb and cold. I wish they hadn't taken my shoes, that was the worst thing, in comparison to all the other things I lost. I sleep for maybe five minutes at a time, and then just snap awake again when I hear something. I'm still really afraid that they will find me again, even though I have nothing left for them to take.

I've got to just wait until daylight, when people start going to work. I can beg them for some change then. Maybe a kind stranger will show me some sympathy, instead of just ignoring me and walking past me like I am not there. Talking on their phones, texting, drinking their expensive cups of coffee, like I used to do. Maybe I can get something to eat if I can get some money and get served, if I can muster up the courage to stand in line with those people, I just feel so ashamed when they look at me. 

I fucking... hate this so much... I cant see a way out, I... just don't know what to do. My life is fucked, I don't know when it happened. I hate this, I hate this... I hate myself. I'm dirty, cold all the time, my mouth stinks, it feels horrible, I haven't brushed my teeth in a month. I have to use the streets as a toilet, wipe myself with the news papers people throw away.... 

It wasn't always like this...

I had a job, an apartment, a life. But at some point I started feeling really sad. I hated the job back then, I wish I was back there now, serving customers, dealing with their bullshit. Dealing with my bosses bullshit. But I got sad, well, I thought I was sad then. Its nothing compared to how I feel now. Now, I just wish I was dead. When I started to feel sad I started to go into work late, then I stopped going into work altogether for days on end. My boss would call, I wouldn't answer, then I got the letter telling me I was fired. So I stopped getting out of bed, I would just lay there, sad in the dark. Crying. 

I ran out of money, so I started selling my stuff, TV, MP3 player, laptop, everything I had. I didn't care that much anyway, I had stopped using them. When the money ran out I got evicted, my landlord was sorry for kicking me out, but I don't blame him, it was my fault I couldn't pay the rent.

The first night on the streets wasn't that bad, at the time I hated it. But at least I was warm, at least I had a pair of fucking shoes on my feet. I found a doorway to sleep in, it stank of piss. But at least not that many people walked past me, so I didn't have to avoid eye contact with them. In the morning the lady who owned the store would ask me to leave, I would say sorry to her, with my head down, and shuffle off. She was lovely, pretty, and after a few days started to bring me coffee and something small to eat before asking me to go. The first time she did that, I just completely broke down in front of her, and then I walked away. I wish I could still be there now, but I am so afraid to go back.

It was the second or third week, when they attacked me. I could sleep well back then, for maybe half an hour at a time, unafraid and relatively warm. It was late when they hit me in the head, I didn't know what was going on, I think they kicked me. Everything was slow for a second as my head tilted back, I could see balls of light in the corners of my eyes wriggling around, I guess I was seeing stars. Next thing I know I got kicked again, and they started to punch me, punches and kicks, I don't know how many of them there were. They pulled my coat off of me, and were going through my trouser pockets, I didn't dare move. I could just about squeak out "stoppp... please stoppp." They started to pull my shoes off, thats when I started to kick and tried to fight back, and that's when they started beating me again. 

They took my shoes, coat, the little money I had and my bag, which had some pictures, clothes and the few personal things I had left in it. They took everything I had and just started to walk away, I ran the other way, barefoot in the rain. 

I cried for days after.

Its daylight now, time to go and see if I can beg for a few dollars, to get something to eat. And hope that someone can save me. While trying to avoid peoples eyes at the same time.

I have been begging for hours. And I haven't gotten a penny. The streets are busy, everyone's in their own little world. I'm so hungry I feel like I'm going to pass out. Its a feeling beyond hunger really, its just pain. I have been looking at dustbins over the last few days, because I am so desperate, the little amount of pride I have left is stopping me from going through them. But I am standing next to one now. I can see half a sandwich in there, how could someone throw that away? I'm just standing, looking at it, for ten or so minutes, I start to reach towards the bin, I can feel the tears coming. My hand is in the dustbin, my fingers are on the sandwich. Suddenly I feel someone grab my hand.

I look at the man holding my hand, he is old, scruffy, he looks homeless too.

"what... what are you doing?" I ask. 

"What's your name son?" He asks back. 

"Malcolm..." I replied, still wondering what he wanted. That was the first time I had told anyone my name since I became homeless. It was the first time anyone has asked me what my name was.

"Malcolm, hi, I'm Louis." He smiled at me through bad teeth.

"Malcolm, you don't need to eat that, we can eat better than that son. Come with me, and we can get something better to eat."

He turned around and started walking. I just stood there looking at him, I didn't know what was going on, if I could even trust him. After a few steps he stopped and turned around, looked at me, and beckoned me to follow him. I don't know what he wants, or where he is going to take me. But fuck it, I have nothing left to lose. So I started to follow him, while wondering what will happen to me when we finally get to where he is going to take me.



Louis Chapter 2



Spoiler



It was a cold night, but I slept well, I think I slept too long, it seems pretty late, oh well. My bones hurt, damn cold, my joints have been feeling the cold for too long. I sit up, rub my eyes. The alleyway is empty as usual, people only come here to throw out or pick up the trash. It smells nice at this time of the day here, the exhausts from the kitchens of the coffee shops and café's that sit in front of the alley fill the air with delicious smells. I smell fresh coffee being brewed, sandwiches being toasted, meat, eggs, potatoes being cooked. Its making me hungry, very hungry.

I look to the left and pick up my scruffy backpack, I open it up. "What's for breakfast?" I say loudly, to nobody but myself. I look through the packs of sandwiches I have in there, king prawn, roast beef, Mexican spicy chicken, a blt. I take out the blt and kind prawn sandwiches, open them up and start eating away. "Delicious!" I say loudly, to nobody but myself. Washed down with a small bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice, its the kind of breakfast that any person stopping by the shops on the other side of the alley would eat at this time. The only difference between them and I is that they have jobs, homes and money. And all I have is this alley, the clothes on my back, this rucksack and a chipboard roof between two dumpsters.

After I eat I go through my daily ritual, I put the roof behind one of the dumpsters, along with my cardboard floor, I throw the sandwiches I have left into one of the dumpsters too. I don't need those any more. I close my rucksack, put it on my back, and walk out of the alley into the busy streets ahead. The streets are busy, but everyone is in their own little world, they only talk into their cell phones, they only hear through their headphones. Nobody looks at anyone else, some people look at me, then quickly look away, I always smile when they look at me and hold their gaze for more than a second.

I smile at them through my bad teeth, and they quickly look away again.

Dan's liquor store is still closed, he hasn't been opening on time lately. Once or twice a week he doesn't open at all. I should talk to him when I see him next, he seems sad these days. I keep on walking, one of the clerks of the grocery store next to Dan's is sweeping the entrance to the store. "Morning" I say to him, "morning Lou" he replies. "Have you got anything for me today?" I ask him, "Sure do, its out in the back" he replies. "Any work?" I ask him back. He looks at me and shakes his head "Not today, sorry" he answers back. I nod my head at him, "much obliged, and thank you." He smiles at me and carries on sweeping, I make my way to the alley behind the stores.

There is a small cardboard box just behind the grocery store, that's for me. I sit down next to it and start going through its contents. A few bags of expired peanuts, some cans of expired soda, some bad fruit and a couple of cans of expired luncheon meat. I take the nuts, a couple of cans of the soda and a couple of cans of the meat, put them in my rucksack and make my way back into the street.

There isn't a lot going on today, I have been walking for an hour or so, nobody has anything for me today. I should turn back soon, and see if Dan's liquor store is open, my knees hurt, hopefully he has something for me so I can get my medicine. As I turn a corner I see a man standing next to a bin, my eyes are bad these days but I can tell he is like me, he is homeless. As I walk closer I see he doesn't have any shoes, poor guy, just standing there, he looks desperate, he looks distraught. He starts to reach into the bin, tears are rolling down his face. All the people walking past don't give a fuck, they just keep on walking, they may glance at him for a second, then look away again. I walk towards him and stand next to him, he doesn't even notice me. I grab his hand just before he grabs a dirty, half eaten sandwich from the dustbin. He sort of half jumps and turns his head in my direction. His eyes meet mine for a second then he looks down at my chest.

"what... what are you doing?" He asks me, his voice was quiet and filled with fear.

"What's your name son?" I ask him, while squeezing his hand gently.

"Malcolm..." He replied to me.

"Malcolm, hi, I'm Louis." I smiled at him through my bad teeth, while he looked up at me.

"Malcolm, you don't need to eat that, we can eat better than that son. Come with me, and we can get something better to eat."

I let go of his hand, he pulls it back to his body fast. He still looks terrified, but the tears had stopped rolling down his face, where the tears had rolled down his face they had made slightly clean channels and streaks. He had other channels and streaks like that, which looked dry and older. He must cry a lot I thought to myself. I started walking back the way I came, I walked a few steps and turned around, he was still frozen to the spot. I beckoned him to follow me, he seemed to think for a second, then I saw him shrug. He started to follow me.

As we walked Malcolm wasn't saying anything, his head was down looking at the floor the whole time. I took my rucksack off my back, opened it up and started to dig through it. I got a couple of bags of expired nuts, a can of expired soda and gave them to him. "You look like you could use these Son." I said to him, he slowly took them from my hand, the tears were rolling again. He opened up the bags of nuts, one after the other, and wolfed down handfuls of nuts at a time until they were all finished. He opened the soda and took a couple of swigs, and looked at me "Thank you Louis... that was kind..." he said to me. "Its ok son, think nothing of it." I replied. "And please, call me Lou" Malcolm nodded his head at me and smiled, he had good teeth, he must be new to the streets.

We walked a little longer, until we reached a charity thrift store. "First stop Malcolm!" I walked inside, he followed behind me. I walked up to the man at the counter, he looked over at me and smiled, I smiled back at him. "Afternoon Lou, how are you?" He asked. "I am good buddy, but my friend Malcolm here needs help, can you help us please?" He looked at Malcolm and looked down at his feet, his smile went away. "Sure I can" he said as he made his way out from the back of the counter. He took a pair of boots from one of the shelves and handed them to Malcolm. "These look around your size." Malcolm took them from him, sat down on the floor straight away, put the boots on his feet and started lacing them up. As soon as they were laced he jumped back up, and grabbed the man's hand and started to shake it with both of his. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you." Malcolm said, suddenly he stopped shaking his hand and let go, his face dropped. "I.... I don't have any money...." Malcolm said quietly. "Its ok." The man said with a grin, I don't want any money. "Also..." he walked towards a rack of clothes, "Its pretty cold out, you could probably use this." He handed a coat to Malcolm, it looked pretty new, I was a bit jealous of that, I could do with a new coat myself. Malcolm thanked him about five more times again, as did I, and then we made our way back out to the street.

As we walked I looked over at Malcolm, he wasn't smiling, but he didn't look sad. He was still looking down at the floor though. "You know we aren't any different from all of these people." I said. "All it takes are a few missed pay cheques, a few bills through the door, and they would be out here, with us." Malcolm looked over at me and nodded, then he looked back down. "You shouldn't feel ashamed son, its not your fault." "It is..." he said, "I don't know what's wrong with me, but something is wrong with me, I'm sure of that." He clenched his teeth. "I have been feeling sad for a long time, and I did this to myself, I fucked my own life, now I'm here." I didn't know what to say to that, we carried on walking for a few more minutes. "I think... I think I'm sick Lou, but not in my body." Malcolm stopped walking, so did I. He looked at me and pointed at his head. "I think I'm sick here, and I can't fix it with a band aid." I looked at him and put my hand on his shoulder. "We all get sick from time to time, sick in that way, in our heads, in our hearts, it can get better, but it takes time." Malcolm nodded his head again. "I hope I can get better... I don't want to feel like this any more". And with that, we kept on walking.

We walked for a little longer, my knees and hips were on fire, I had a throbbing pain going down my back. We reached Dan's store, he was open. "lets go in here, this guy is my friend" I said "He sometimes gives me small jobs, I think we could both use a little money." We walked in and the smell of alcohol hit me straight away, but it wasn't coming from the shelves full of booze. It was coming from Dan. "Hi Lou." He said, and held out his hand, he nodded at Malcolm, I shook his hand. "Hey Dan, this is my friend Malcolm, have you got anything for us today?" I asked. "Sure do, I've got a ton of trash out the back that needs to be sorted and thrown out, and a ton of booze that needs to be shelved, you guys want to help me out with that?" Malcolm looked around nervously, he looked out of the window, there were a lot of people walking past the store. "I can take care of all the trash... Dan." He said, I guess he didn't want people looking at him. "Ok" I said, "I know where all the bottles go anyway, and I want to speak to Dan too" "Its just through there." Dan said to Malcolm "There's a load of boxes that need squishing before they can be put in the dumpster, and if you could sweep up a little after, I would appreciate that too."



I nodded at Dan and Lou, and made my way out to the back, I saw the boxes and started to flatten them out, there was a lot there, but I was happy to do it. This was the first type of work I have had in six months. As I was working I thought of Lou, I am glad he found me, I know I was dying on my own out here. I still feel sad right now, but I am not feeling absolutely fucking crushed like I did before. Maybe there is some hope out here, I thought nobody gave a shit about me, but just today three people have helped me already. Food, shoes, a coat, some work. And they don't even know me. Plus there was that lady at the store, I still don't know what the store sold, or her name, I was just lost in my head while I slept there. The shutters were down when I got there too, and I would always leave before she opened, I never saw inside. Maybe I can go there with Lou, I should thank her for being kind to me. If Lou is with me maybe I wont be as afraid of those.... those fucking scumbags who beat and robbed me. 

I started feeling angry at the thought of them, but I didn't cry this time. They anger helped me crush the boxes though, I stamped on them with my boots, I imagined I was stamping on their fucking heads. After a while I was done with the boxes, and put them all in the dumpster, even thought they were flat the dumpster was still overflowing. I don't think Dan takes the trash out often, I guess he just waits for Lou to do it. I grabbed the broom and started to sweep up, there was dry vomit around the place, and some fresh stuff. It was pretty disgusting but I swept it all into a pile and then swept it into the gutter. After I was done I sat on a plastic crate, I was feeling hungry again, those nuts helped but didn't go a long way, I wonder how much Dan will give us for this? It cant be a lot, but maybe we can buy something to eat with it.

After a while Lou came out the door in the back, he looked a little troubled, but when he saw me he smiled through bad teeth. "I love pay day!" He said and reached into his pocket, he pulled out a small bottle of whisky. "Oh..." I said, "Dan doesn't give you money for this?" "I don't need money son." He replied, "but this medicine, that I do need, come on lets go." I got up and followed him to where he was going, I wasn't afraid to follow him now.

We walked for a minute or two at a really slow pace, Lou was making small groans as he walked, I think he was in some sort of pain. I looked around, and I suddenly stopped. I know where we are, this is close to the area where I was robbed, I felt a lump in my throat. I felt afraid. "What's wrong?" Lou asked. "Its... its dangerous here." I replied. "Its dangerous everywhere, when you are like us, its not like we will call out and a cop will come running to our rescue." He had a point I thought to myself. "Besides" he continued "we are home now!" He pointed to an entrance to a back alley, I followed him in there, even though I was scared now, but fuck it.

We walked into the alley, there wasn't anyone around, I could smell food and coffee, it made me hungry. Lou walked to a dumpster and opened it up. He pulled out a bag of trash and opened it. "AHA!" He exclaimed "I love pay day!" He started to laugh as he rummaged through the bag, he threw something in my direction, I grabbed it. It was a smoked salmon sandwich, clean, packaged, in perfect condition. "Don't worry" he said "they are expired but fresh, just thrown out today, they cant sell them any more." I looked at him with the sandwich in my hand "Go on boy, eat up, two hours ago you would have paid five bucks for that." I immediately opened it and started eating. Lou put a bunch of sandwiches into his rucksack, and we walked to the end of the alley. 

He put his bag down, and went behind a dumpster, he pulled out a wooden board and some big sheets of cardboard. He put the wooden board on top of the two dumpsters and the cardboard on the ground between them. "Welcome to my home!" he laughed. "Come on, sit sit." He said, he sat down, I sat next to him, he took out a sandwich from his rucksack and tossed it to me. Roast chicken and stuffing, I always hated roast chicken and stuffing sandwiches. I started to wolf it down. It was late now and dark, I must have had seven sandwiches, that was the most I had eaten in over a month, since I became homeless. The whisky we had drunk had made us both sleepy, Lou was snoring, I could feel myself dozing off. I fell asleep. 

I must have slept for a few hours, when a noise woke me up, someone was running towards us. All I could see was his red top. "Oi you!" He shouted at me. I immediately felt frozen to the spot. "HEY, GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING COAT NOW!" He shouted, Lou sat up like a shot. The man in the red top pointed something at me, it was a knife, it had blood on it. "Give me your fucking coat now, or I'm going to stab you up!"



Daniel Chapter 3



Spoiler



I woke up with that same feeling, the one that I had become used to. My head ached, my stomach was churning and my mouth was dry and rancid. I hated waking up with that horrible taste in my mouth especially, but I had become used to it by now. I felt cold, I hadn't slept in between the sheets of the bed again, but on top, fully clothed, but I was still cold. I hated this big empty bed so much, whenever I lay in it all it stirs up is bad memories. I turn my head towards the bedside table and look at the half empty bottle of bourbon sitting on top of it. The bottle was always half empty, sometimes completely empty and sometimes broken on the ground. I pushed the bottle out of the way, fuck, its 11am. I was late again.

I didn't bother showering or changing my clothes. I brushed my teeth though, to try and get rid of the bad taste in my mouth. I brushed for five minutes but the taste was still there, just with a sickly taste of mint at the tip of my tongue. I walked to the front door, I had mail again, bills to pay. I picked them up but didn't open them, there was no point, I had no money to pay them anyway. I put them on the the little table next to the door, on top of all the other letters I hadn't opened and picked up my keys, I left my car keys though, I felt too dizzy to drive, to drained. I wasn't allowed to drive my car any more anyway.

The long walk to my store caused my head to ache even more, my empty stomach to churn even more, my mouth to get more dry and bitter. I felt like I was in a haze as I walked, like it was a death march. My steps erratic, as I walked past people I could feel their eyes on me, when I walked past someone I could smell how clean they were, their shampoo, their soap. I knew they could smell the poison on me, the poison I tried killing myself with the night before, the poison I drink every single night. 

I finally reached the store, thank God, I felt sick as hell. I put the coffee and sandwich I had picked up along the way on the floor and raised the shutters. I had forgotten to lock them again, and the door, oh well, I didn't really care anyway. I wish someone would have walked in and stolen all the poison from the shelves while I was passed out drunk last night, at least I wouldn't need to sell any poison to people again today. I sat down behind the counter and looked around, fuck I hate this place. Half the shelves were empty, not because I didn't have any stock, but because I couldn't bring myself to put the bottles on the shelves. I sipped the coffee, it was hot and bitter, when it hit my stomach it churned with what was left of the alcohol from the night before and made me feel even more sickly. I forced the sandwich down in big mouthfuls, I could barely taste it due to the bitterness at the back of my mouth. When I was done I went out the back door and threw it all up in the alley. I then went back inside feeling ten times worse.

I sat at the counter with my head in my hands, feeling terrible. Customers would come in, a few would walk straight back out, a few would ask if I had the missing poison from the shelves in stock, a couple actually bought something. All gave me funny looks. A few more hours passed and I was feeling better. I had been drinking water instead of poison and coffee. It tasted fresh and sweet in my mouth, nice and cold. I decided I should do some work and was about to go into the back to pick up some stock for the shelves when Lou walked in with a young man. Good, they could do the work instead. I greeted Lou and the young man and shook Lou's hand, and told them I had something for them.

Thirty minutes had passed and Lou was almost done filling up the shelves, he knew where everything went. I could hear the young guy, Malcolm, stamping on the boxes out back, I was surprised how loud it was, oh well. As I sat there thinking about nothing Lou turned towards me. "Dan...." he said apprehensively "are you ok?" he asked. "Sure am." I automatically replied back. "Well..." he said "I know you're not man, you look terrible, I can smell the booze on you, the store stinks of it." I looked at him angrily. "Well Lou, what the fuck do you expect a liquor store to smell of? Flowers and fresh fruit?" I looked back down and shook my head. "I know you have been like this for a long time..." he said, in a quiet tone "but now, I dunno, you could always hold it together before, I can tell you are falling apart." I didn't say anything to him, I just carried on looking at the ground. "I mean... you opened late today, sometimes you don't even open at all, you wear the same clothes, don't shower, I'm really worried about you." I looked back up at him and stared at him for a few seconds, then said "Why the fuck do you care about me?" Lou's face dropped. "Because you are my friend? My best friend. You take care of me, because I love you." I burst out laughing. "Friend? Take care of you? I treat you like shit, like a slave!" He shook his head "No...." "YES!" I shouted back, "Yes I do Lou, you call me a friend? If I was a REAL friend I could have actually helped you, gotten you off the streets, given you some pride back." Lou just stood there looking at me. "Instead what do I do? Get you to do the work I don't want to do here? Get you to clean up my fucking puke out back? And how do I repay that?" Lou was silent, "I give you a little bottle of poison, and send you on your way, what a hero I am!" Lou looked at me and shook his head as he replied "I would have been dead if it wasn't for you, that "poison" keeps the pain away, helps me to keep on moving, keeps one foot in front of the other." I could see him welling up. "HERE" I said, and grabbed a small bottle from the shelf next to me. "Here is your pay, enjoy that, its the last time I give you any booze, don't come here again." "You... you don't fucking mean that!" Lou shouted back. "Yeah I do, here, take it." I shoved the bottle in Lou's hand. "I'm done selling poison to people, poisoning them, poisoning you, poisoning myself, poisoning my wife into the grave. I never will do it again." I grabbed Lou by the shoulders. "Next time you come by here, there will be no Dan."



I looked at Dan, I couldn't believe what he was saying. He was being serious, God knows what he was planning to do. "Don't do anything stupid." I said to him. "Please... just tone down the drinking, just stop it, I can help you with that, we can do it together." He walked to a shelf and grabbed a bottle of bourbon. Unscrewed the cap and took a big swig. "Cheers Lou!" He held the bottle up. "Now get the fuck out of my store." I wiped a tear from my eye, shook my head and put the bottle in my pocket. "I will see you soon..." I replied and started to walk away, out to the back door, into the alley. I had to hold it together, for my own sake, and the kids, last thing he needed to see was me in a state. I walked out and he was sitting on a little plastic crate, he had done all his work. I put on a false smile through my bad teeth and exclaimed "I love pay day!"and took the bottle Dan gave me out of my pocket and waved it at him. It was the last bottle of "poison" Dan would ever give me.



I carried on drinking after Lou left, I felt like shit, but then again what's new? Time had passed, it was late, but not closing time. I decided to close up anyway, I had enough for one day. I closed the shutters and made sure I locked them, then I picked up the half empty bottle of bourbon off of the cold ground. I was pretty drunk, but I didn't feel sick like I did earlier, the drink always took the pain away. I started to make the short walk to the bridge, drinking along the way. People could see I was in a bad state, mumbling slurred words and cusses, staggering. Nobody gave a fuck, they would look at me for a split second then look away, sometimes make a comment to a friend, sometimes just laugh. I didn't care I was used to it. I reached the bridge and leaned against the railing, looking over the edge. The water was black and freezing. They say at this time of year if you fall in you will only last a couple of minutes. You don't drown, you freeze. The hypothermia doesn't take long to sweep over you, you just get cold, and fall asleep, and never wake up. I closed my eyes and thought about my life, all the bad things I had done. I had lost my soul a thousand times over. Never done a good thing in my life. I rocked my head back and forth, as I heard the river flow below me. It would be so easy, just to lean over a little more, fall for a second, then feel cold and then, feel nothing ever again. I opened my eyes, I couldn't do it, I was still thinking too much. I threw the empty bottle over the side of the bridge. Fuck I should have brought a fresh one with me. Fuck it, I will make my way back to the store, pick up one last bottle of poison, and unlike every time before, this time, I would do it.

Damn, I had sobered up a little while walking, I guess my tolerance was high these days. I walked around the corner and could see the store. Great, a couple were hugging against the shutters. That was the last thing I wanted to see. Well, I would just ignore them I guess, make out like they aren't there, I'm sure they want nothing to do with me. I carried on walking, I could see my breath in the cold. Strange, the guy hugging the girl had no coat, in this weather everyone wore one. All he had on was a red top. As I got a few steps closer, but still a distance away I saw that they weren't hugging, the man had the girl pinned against the shutters to my store, he was holding her by the jaw. He was shouting at her. The girls eyes met mine, she looked distraught, desperate, terrified. I saw a glint of metal in the man's hand, a knife. I sobered up instantly, and I don't know why, but I started running. But I wasn't running away, I was running towards the girl who was in need outside my store.


----------



## Blaze163 (Sep 30, 2011)

In keeping with this week's challenge, please find enclosed a short poem. Dedicated to someone I have mentioned here before. I name it 'Dream Of Reunion'. I've not written a poem in some considerable time so I may be a little rusty, but for something I just knocked out in a half hour I'd say it's a decent start. Enjoy.



Spoiler



A gentle breeze softly whispers

Flowers bloom in the infinity

The echo of your voice 

Radiant as all heaven

Calling through time

A shield of purest light

Banishing even the reaper

Dreams of the morrow 

Held deep within the heart

Innocent love unspent

A soothing warmth

In the ultimate dark

The shadows fade

Defeated by your memory

No prize to claim this night

Your faith in me

My faith in you 

Our faith in the future

No foe can stand before

The next world can wait

We're not through yet

Keep your eternity

Nothing could compare

To one last moment

By your side

The new day comes

And from the end

Comes a new beginning

A final chance

To win it all

Find peace

Find love

With or without you

My debt to be repaid

For this rebirth

By your kindness

This I swear

The light you shone upon my life

Will shine upon the world

I shall earn what you have given me.



A little sappy perhaps but those of you who know my history will know the meaning behind it.


----------



## KingdomBlade (Sep 30, 2011)

Spoiler



What the hell! Get out of my life!
Her words echo out with brute conviction
A saddening situation resulting in strife
This could never take a new direction

The lonely man walks away
His heart was starting to decay
Ever so persistent, he turns around to say
Fine! I didn't want you anyway!

Up he went to nowhere
Crying tears and loudly bawling
Kind, humble, nice and fair
It was what he felt she was before falling

Sighing and closing his eyes
The man lay there for a moment
He felt the urge to rise
Into the open sky, to avoid his descent

Silly him, he thought for a while
Suddenly, he remembered a way to fly
He saw the canyon, deep about a thousand miles
It didn't matter what would happen, live or die

Then when his body was discovered two days later, his cellphone, somehow still intact, had a message that read "I'm sorry."

~End~



Honestly, I thought that sucked. 
	

	
	
		
		

		
			





 Did you see the secret message by the way?


----------



## shyam513 (Sep 30, 2011)

Guys, My latest poem. It's LOOOOONG, and it's for a friend of mine I value a lot. It's just a short excerpt, but the final poem will be a whole lot longer:



Spoiler



In a distant place, a distant time, 
Where maidens sing a different rhyme,
Over lakes and fields of sunset gold,
With singing birds of every clime.
About the hills stands a maiden fair,
The winds playing about her soft brown hair,
She stands and sings for herself, alone,
Where none can hear but the voiceless air.
Her flowing voice is sweet yet bold, 
Over every heart it has a hold,
For it sings a tale of warmth and joy,
That wards off the darkness, that fends off cold.
A sheaf of barley, a bushel of grain,
Time passes with her softening refrain,
Her gentle mind seeks more than her village,
Where every passing day brings her more pain.
So there once came a day, where her voice fell still,
And there was no trace of that maiden upon her hill.
Her heart had torn free of its restraining chains,
Her untamed wonder sought adventure to its fill.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Oct 1, 2011)

updated/complete the song posted above...


----------



## Edgedancer (Oct 1, 2011)

Here is a recent piece from me.

Kip - Basic Story Idea/Abstract



Spoiler



Kip ran over the grassy knoll, attempting to escape his pursuer. Kip had a cloth bag swung over his shoulder as he bolted that made his gait uneven and sloppy. His spindly little legs carried him as fast as they possibly could. They were certainly willing, but their co-ordination was lacking, and as he started down the slope, they tangled beneath him. Kip fell face first into the dirt and rolled down the rest of the hill, leaving him sprawled at the bottom of the hill, moaning softly. The contents of the bag were strewn all over the ground.
He felt a pain on his lip and pulled his hand away. It was covered in blood, and as he spat some of it out, he felt a tooth go with it.
“Damn it!” he said to no one in particular, “Ma is going to kill me”.
That thought instantly left his head as he heard a pair of feet scuff the ground near his feet. The man was silhouetted against the sun, his face in deep shadow. He was barely breathing hard despite having to run quite a distance to catch Kip.
“Look what we have here,” the man said no unkindly, “A pretty criminal who thought he could escape with my belongings.”
More than anything, that made Kip more scared. He knew how to deal with anger. People had gotten angry at Kip his whole life. But this curious confusion made Kip all the more worried. 
“Always fear a gentle man’s anger,” his Ma had always told him; and this man was certainly gentle. He had yet to lay a hand on Kip, and Kip didn’t want to stick around until that changed.
He slowly got to his feet, testing his legs to make sure there was no damage and started rambling while he picked up the bag he dropped, “I am very sorry sir. I know it is wrong to steal and there is no excuse for what I have done but...” Instantly he swung the bag at the strangers head, expecting to bowl him over so he could make an escape into the woods.
The man simply swayed to the side, raised a hand and grabbed the bag with an iron wrist. Kip stared at him wide eyed and let go of the bag.
“I hope nothing in here is broken” he mused, almost to himself. He opened the bag and started rummaging through it to make sure nothing was destroyed or missing.
Kip slowly backed away and without raising his head, the stranger simply said, “I hope you don’t plan on trying to run away again. I don’t think you will be so lucky a second time”
But run Kip did, headlong into the woods. The stranger simply gave a soft sigh, tied his bag up and walked into the woods following Kip.
Kip ran until his legs gave way and his breath came in ragged gasps. He figured he had lost the stranger and had a sit down on a large rock near the river. Just as he was starting to relax, a hand grabbed the front of his shirt, clenching it tight in his fist.
“I told you not to run away” the stranger said in a low voice. It wasn’t threatening, but it wasn’t gentle either, as though the anger was ready to well up just beneath the surface.  “Let’s see if you can swim.”
Kips eyes went wide with fear as the stranger started to drag him towards to the river; and despite all Kips struggling, he was dragged, inch by inch closer to the water. At the water’s edge, Kip started to treble and a powerful arm lobbed him into the centre of the river.


----------



## Lily (Oct 1, 2011)

Sterling said:
			
		

> *Challenge of the Week*: Write a poem, or a small story. Make it dedicated to someone you love, or someone you really appreciate. Show them what you wrote (if possible), then let the love circulate.





Spoiler



*Untitled*

What would you say
if I told you that I have been carrying
within this hollow breast
the ghost of what passes for hope
that you and I
will mean more than simply that
it will mean us.

How would you feel
if I revealed without ample warning
the unworthy shrine to you
I have created in the dirty shoebox
that passes for a heart
and you saw that every day
I was the sacrificial offering.

What would you do
if you found out that every night
I lie in my room
and caress your sweet lips with my mind
and hold you close in my heart
and cry bitter tears when I wake from my reverie
and find myself without you.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Oct 11, 2011)

Sorry that I haven't visited this for a while.
I'll start posting my writing in a while. 
I got so mixed up with school that I totally forgot >.>


----------



## Gahars (Oct 11, 2011)

Here's a little something I wrote a while ago on the bus. Any feedback?



> Who cries for Hitler
> A person who dreamed and loved?
> No one; he's Hitler.


----------



## Edgedancer (Oct 12, 2011)

Ok. This is a uni task, but it will also suffice for the weekly challenge. Its dedicated to my girlfriend, whom I love with my whole heart. That said, this is in a verse novel format, not quite poetry, not quite short story, but in between. It has structure and layout but its too hard to replicate on the forum so this format will have to suffice.

Washed Away



Spoiler



I rise
Wake from my slumber
Eyes refuse to focus
I stub my toe
And softly curse

4:00am
It blinks
And blinks
Its stupid’o’clock
As my father used to say

I get ready
Grab a backpack
And pack the stuff
A note
Single rose
Ornate wooden box
Fasten it tightly
And head off

The car sputters
Spewing black smoke
It sounds horrible
But it works

I leave
The house
The street
The town
It’s all behind me
Further and further away

Headlights shining through the morning fog
No one else is here
All alone
On this road
I stop
And its still dark

My flashlight
It shines the way
And I hoist the pack
Over my shoulder
And grunt from the weight
A car drives by,
The only sound I can hear
Apart from my own soft breathing
In
Out
In
Out

The bush welcomes me
Like an old friend
But its been a while since I last walked this way
Its overgrown
And catches on my clothing
Pulling me
And I struggle to move forward

I stumble and fall
Grazing my knee
Stupid tree roots
Dim flashlight
I hobble further on
The sky is not quite as black as before
And I hustle on

I hear water
Cool refreshing water
I lick my lips
My tongue darts
As if tasting the air
I smile
Cracking my tried face

Suddenly I make it through
To the waters edge
And the tree

Its old
Gnarled with age and exposure
Stoic
Welcoming

I sit under it
In the shade
Watching
The sun rises from its cradle
And the bursts to flames
Bringing light
It rises in the east

It was the favourite spot
For all these years
So many memories
Cherished in my heart
And mind

And as its setting in the west
She arrives
Footsteps
Getting louder
And louder
Breaking twigs
Kicking dirt

She sits down next to me
“Do you have it?”
My throat dry from a lack of use
Strangles the word in reply
I try again
“Yes”

Her hand creeps into mine
Soft and smooth
Against dry and rough
“Lets do it”
She whispers

I pull out the rose
And the letter
And the box

The rose is placed under the tree I had been sitting
I read the letter
Tears roll down my face
And hers as well
And we take a moment
Remembering
Thinking
Thanking

The box is opened
And its full of ash
I walk to the waters edge
It flows slowly
Serenely

I wade knee deep
And I tip the contents in
Reverently
And whisper

“Never forget
I love you.
I always have.
I always will.
I will see you soon”

And the water slowly washes away
The ash of my love
Of my wife


----------



## Sterling (Oct 13, 2011)

Good job everyone. I read all these recent posts, and I like what I see. Keep it up.

On a side note, I'm strapped for an idea for the next challenge of the week. Does anyone want to suggest something?


----------



## Gahars (Oct 13, 2011)

Maybe you could ask people to write whatever they want as long as it incorporates a certain line. Something like, "The octopus never sleeps before midnight," perhaps?


----------



## Edgedancer (Oct 14, 2011)

Well here is where I can become useful Sterling. I have a bunch of little writing activities that people can do.

One is zoom out, which is a descriptive exercise. Basically, you want to describe an object by focusing on a single point, whether it be a item on a desk or something. Then you step back and look at the stuff around it, then take a third step back and describe more. I think that you will understand better if I put up an example. I did one previously and will do another one if we end up doing this activity.
No pressure to choose any of my ideas, but I feel like trying to help out a bit more.

My Hill



Spoiler



The dark green bench stands stoically on its legs. Despite the beams being different lengths, causing a slope to one side, it retains its dignity, not caring for what others think of it. It may be weathered and worn by the elements but its vibrancy remains.
It remains underneath a large tree, old and gnarled by age. It has weathered the same as the bench and remains standing, tall and proud. The cold wind whips through its branches, setting of a keening noise that exists right on the edge of hearing, obscure yet ever-present. You would not notice it unless you knew about it beforehand.
All this is situated upon the top of a hill. A single dirt path, worn down by countless feet, permeates the knee high grass that sweeps and bends in the breeze. The slope is gentle on all sides, allowing relative access for all of those who wish to visit.
To look at the hill as a whole, you see and ocean on yellow. The grass covers the hill from head to toe and this gives it a warm glow that warms your eyes. Large, brown kangaroos bound majestically through the waist high grass and graze on its many nutrients. Small green bushes pepper the hill, breaking up the scene of yellow and brown with their spots of dark green.
Zoom back once again, and you will see that this hill stands with its sister. Both hills are much the same but both hold their own beauty. A small track forms a bridge between them, makings its way through the bush, like a snake slithering slowly over the ground. The ridge joining the two hills frames the sun as it rises from its cradle and bursts to flames, radiating warmth and safety.



OH. And one other thing that I want to mention. I am getting a childrens picture book illustrated through the university, which is pretty awesome. I cant wait to see how both of them turn out.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Oct 14, 2011)

*These Words, For You*


Spoiler



Pieces of life
All that we find
Sold and repaid
Far and away
Yes, I will
And you'll remain

Pieces of time
Play and rewind
Reasons to stay
Far and away
Lost and found
Sunlight in rain
Yes, I will
And you'll remain

I
Thought them through
Wrote them down
These few words
All for you...

I
Thought them through
Late one night
Next to you
These few words...

Yes, I will
And you'll remain



And...
The chorus to the song I'm working on currently:



Spoiler



Silent waves
Can't you feel them crash against your face?
Still you walk into the ocean
Another failed attempt to matter
To someone other than you

The darkest night
And the fear you'll never make it right
Did you wake up all alone?
Another failed attempt to matter
To someone other than you...


----------



## Shinigami357 (Oct 23, 2011)

Sterling, you could try asking members [writers, especially] what they deem are their greatest weaknesses when writing. Depending on what we get, then it makes planning the rest of the weekly challenges easier.

PS
Did old8oy change his name back? Man, since the site updated, I've been a bit bewildered by it all. I oughta change my avatar, hm...

PPS
Speaking of Old8oy... Just gonna PM you bout the uploading in a bit...


----------



## wrettcaughn (Oct 23, 2011)

old8oy did change his name back


----------



## Shinigami357 (Oct 26, 2011)

Hm... Anyone trying NaNoWriMo this November? I signed up on the website and all already. Just need to get my mind set on which plot to use. And of course, how to write it.


----------



## Gahars (Oct 26, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:


> Hm... Anyone trying NaNoWriMo this November? I signed up on the website and all already. Just need to get my mind set on which plot to use. And of course, how to write it.



That's the thing where you have to write a one thousand page novel in a month, right?


----------



## Shinigami357 (Oct 26, 2011)

You write a 50,000[or more]-word novel from Nov 1 - 30. Just kind of finished my tentative plot. If anyone else signs up, tell me - coz doing stuff alone kind of sucks.


----------



## Gahars (Oct 26, 2011)

Well, I will definitely consider it. It's a big commitment, sure, but it sounds like it could be fun as well.


----------



## shyam513 (Oct 29, 2011)

@shinigami - yeah, I am. I did it last year too, but broke my arm halfway through, so I couldn't finish.Did the camp Nanowrimo versions in July and August, and finished both of them


----------



## wrettcaughn (Oct 30, 2011)

New song:

Bones


Spoiler



so few words you've left to say
don't waste them all on me
a billion bones bend every day
and you get what you need

sympathy for all you take
and all the air you breathe
a billion bones begin to break
and you get what you need

following so close behind
and still you've yet to see
a billion bones buried inside
they give you what you need

so few words you've left to say
strike each and every nerve
a billion bones, they fade away
you'll get all you deserve


----------



## Sterling (Oct 31, 2011)

Sorry about the inactivity guys. The OP has been updated and a few changes has been made.

*) The challenge of the week has been changed to a two week period and I am now open to suggestions. PM me the suggestion and I'll give credit.
*) Old8oy has returned.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Nov 11, 2011)

SOO sorry I haven't posted anything here! I try to keep updated, but I have to wait till Sunday to get my computer back! D: I'll start with some _weird_ poems I made :3
Again, SOOOOO sorry D:


Spoiler



Ocean Anomaly
---
Swift and mighty anomaly
Traveling the seven seas
A pack of corrupt clouds
Forming a mighty shroud
Starts with tropical juice
Then add a pinch of cotton, too
Take a whirl in the blender
And it's fresh, but not for better
Rotating with all its power
The network grows on
The pack becomes a tower
And reaches land; it's won





Spoiler



Fat Squirrels
---
Fat squirrels, livin' the life of a (x3)
Stalker right out of our house!
All we do is scream "hatchee patchee"
While all they can do is watch us party
Sniff their bottoms while we can't see
All they do is watch TV!

F to the S to the I to the H
Fat squirrels in my house, why can't you see? (x2)

Menu billi, menu meow
Sare kende jutheya kao
Menu billi, menu meow
Tu kyo nai samaj ata stupidji cow?

Mote squirrel, oye mote squirrel
Sare kende mote squirrel
Mote squirrel, oye mote squirrel
Sare kende MOTE


----------



## Sterling (Nov 19, 2011)

Op has been updated, and ShinyJellicent12321, great poetry.  I like 'em.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Nov 22, 2011)

Just got back after my PC decided to give me the finger. It took 3 days to repair it, and around a week, maybe two without internet before that. Anyways, I'm back.

My NaNoWriMo novel is obviously screwed, but I'm still pushing it as far as it can go until the deadline. I figure I ought to show some dedication regardless of my prospects of actually finishing. I might post up a small excerpt later on.


So, anyway... the challenge. Hm...

Well, I consider my two worst weaknesses in writing stories to be naming my characters [dunno, never was good with names] and writing sequences with a lot of actions [the words never seem to fit the images in my head]. I'm not sure how I can write something related to names [working on it, though; you'll see how weird my naming is in a bit] so I'll go with the action sequences then...



Spoiler



_"There are two ways to stop an opponent or target. You make him unable to continue or you make him submit,"_ said a voice inside Venn's head. It was the doctrine that had been ingrained into his mind, his instincts - his very existence, perhaps. The problem was, he was also taught that submission wasn't an option, at least not for them; and 'unable to continue' translated roughly to 'dead as a doornail'.

A stream of garbled, shrilly-shouted and - at least to Venn - unintelligible words issued forth from the room at the end of the corridor. Venn thought it resembled Russian. "You won't get me, whoever you are!" called out the voice again, as the speaker switched abruptly to English.

The pronouncement was followed by sporadic gunfire that hit the carpeting and the wall, but was otherwise of no consequence. Venn was hiding behind a corner where the room's wall met that of the corridor's, well-shielded from gunfire.

_'How many damn guards did this paranoid wacko hire?'_ he thought to himself. Already about a dozen or so armed men lined the corridors, side rooms and stairs. Each of these men had a gaping bullet wound on his head, some on the temple, others between the eyes, and yet others on the neck - or what little of their necks remained, anyhow.

Another spray of bullets came forth from the room at the end of the corridor. Venn wondered if the guards were starting to run out of ammo yet. He knew from the corpses of the other guards that the weapons were 9mm sub-machine guns - MP5s or something. He knew from the lack of ricocheting - something that worked in his favor - that the rounds were of the hollow-point variety. He had stuck to his training so far, and aside from a few cuts and bruises, he was relatively unscathed. He did not wish to make a mistake now. Shootouts almost never end well if one was outnumbered and outgunned, regardless of what the movies wanted one to believe.

_'And speaking of ammo...'_ he thought to himself as he looked down on his gun, a Colt Python with a six-inch barrel. He had three rounds left in the cylinder - hollow-point 357's. He checked his pants’ front left pocket and found it empty - the rear left pocket was jingling with the shell casings he had previously fired - couldn't very well leave those behind.

He wished, as he had on so many previous instances within the last twenty or so minutes, that he could have used the M107A1 instead. The house - mansion, whatever they called it nowadays - stood atop a hill, and his target, being a much smaller man, left him without a clear shot especially since his guards stuck so close to him. He did take out some of the guards with the decidedly overpowered rifle, but the target had predictably withdrawn inside. To Venn, this meant two things: first, the target has no means of escape unless he was out of the picture; and second, he had to go into the rather veritable fortress full of armed guards. And here he was, less than half an hour later, outnumbered three to one counting the target.

Another burst of gunfire further shredded the carpeting and the fake wooden panels on the wall - it all looked like a ghastly mess now. Venn, who was concentrating on counting shots, noted that there were three less shots compared to earlier salvos. _'Out of ammo or trying to lure me in?' _he wondered.

Venn checked his watch. He was not sure if his target had actually dared call the police - that entailed explaining his small private army of bodyguards. But then again, a man in panic - especially one so paranoid - was unfathomable to a fault. If the target did, his hand would be forced. Venn knew that other than his firearm, all he had were three knives. One each on knife holsters on both ankles - the way commandos wore them on TV - and a butterfly knife hidden on his left sleeve. He had no explosives, because he was too uncomfortable with them, though admittedly some would be a lot of help considering present circumstances.

"I have called for backup! Whoever you are, you'd better be prepared to die here!" called out the voice again. Venn checked his watch again. He was not sure if this last pronouncement was a bluff or not, but he figured any backup would be heading towards them with accelerators floored. It was time to move in, like it or not.

"I've got three more rounds!" Venn shouted back - it was the first time he had spoken at all since the carnage began. "Those two with you better be good at catching bullets, or I'll still have one left for you after I'm done with them!" With that implied threat - always good to have every small psychological advantage - Venn made his move.

The next few seconds were a blur.

Venn emerged from the corner he was hiding behind, gun at the ready. He knew the guards wore vests, so head shots were the way to go. The doorway of the room at the end of the corridor was empty. For a moment, he just stood there, his gaze switching back and forth from left to right. Then a small movement caught his eye on the right side of the doorway.

He shot at the right side of the doorway, and his bullet struck wood. One of the guards had swung the door slightly closed, and he had fallen for it. No sooner had the sound of the impact resounded along the corridor, than one of the guards emerged behind the door, gun at the ready. Venn realized the door was both decoy and cover. On instinct, he dropped to one knee, readjusted his aim, and blew the guard's brains out. Behind him, the walls were once again shredded as the bullets flew over his head. Venn expected the next few rounds to shred him as the guard's arm swung down. Instead, he heard the dry click of a firing pin striking nothing - the guard's gun had been almost empty, after all.

_'One more round, two people left,' _he had time to think. He focused again on the now partially obstructed doorway, some part of his brain shouting that the other guard would come from the left side this time. That part of his brain was wrong; it turned out, as the remaining guard also emerged behind the door. Venn had been caught unawares, but the guard stumbled slightly as his foot struck the corpse of his now-dead comrade.

Venn knew this was his only opportunity, and in life-or-death situations such an opportunity had to be taken advantage of. Seeing that the remaining guard also had his gun angled to shoot upwards - toward the head - Venn dove down, rolling slightly to his left. His left shoulder was braced for impact, while his right arm remained outstretched as he readjusted his aim to compensate for his movement. He was counting on the guard not being able to swing the gun down. Venn grunted as his shoulder hit the carpet, and his aim swung off to one side. The guard, having had to readjust to both the accidental stumble and Venn's sudden movement, started to swing his gun down.

Gunshots rang out.

...

_'Empty,' _reported Venn's mental ammo tracker. He had kicked the guard's arm off to one side, and all the remaining rounds in the sub-machine gun were emptied into a different direction. Meanwhile, Venn had corrected his aim and disposed of the last guard. In a flash - surely no more than forty-five seconds - the gunfight was over, two men were down, and ammo was a passing memory.

Venn stood up, re-holstered his empty revolver into a holster on his right thigh, and drew both knives from his ankles. Cautiously, he pushed the door fully open with one shoe. He had to be very careful, because while he was armed, his target - paranoid, after all - might just have a firearm.

He stepped into the room, noting that the door had swung back fully, making concealment in that area improbable. He took a quick survey of the windows - they all looked undisturbed, unlike if someone had tried to jump off one. It meant that the target was now cornered, but most probably armed.

To his left is a lit fireplace, and he edges toward it, being careful not to make any sudden movements. He continued to inch toward it, eventually leaving the door unguarded.

"Here kitty-kitty..." he said, daring the target to move into the open. A closet on the right side of the room - one partially hidden from view by the door - opened, and the target sprang out, heading out through the doorway. Venn, who had been expecting some sort of escape attempt, leaped after the target, knives swinging. He managed to slash at the back of the target's ankle. The target went down hard, screaming his head off and writhing in pain.

Venn slipped both knives back into their holsters, grabbed hold of the target's injured foot - soliciting a fresh round of agonized wails - and dragged him back into the room.

"What- what do you want? Please, spare me!" the target pleaded. "I- I'll pay you double what you're being paid. I'll pay you triple if you tell me who it is," continued the target, trying to bargain now. Venn smiled, bemused as he thought of the way people assumed all syndicate bosses, drug lords or crime kingpins were hardened goons. He had evidence to the contrary now.
Venn let go off the target's leg when they were in front of the fireplace. "I'll tell you who it is, and you won't need to pay me a cent," he told the target. "You see, your wife wasn't too happy when you tried to screw her over the divorce settlements. When you're gone, she gets everything, you see?"
"No. No way. Please, I'll pay you anything you want!"
Venn smiled at this last, desperate plea. It was very uncommon for him, who preferred long-distance hits, to be this close to a target. "Hey," he said, "you really think I'm that unprofessional?"

The man only stared at him, in shock. Obviously, he had been used to buying people out.

"Don't worry, this won't hurt," Venn tells the target. He takes a small metallic case out of his pants’ front right pocket. It contained a syringe and a small vial. "This is a sort of venom that is lethal to small animals, but it only immobilizes humans. Your wife picked it especially for you - think of it as a parting gift." He drew out exactly 10cc of the venom, made sure to get rid of any bubbles, and injected it into the target. He threw the syringe into the fire - he was wearing gloves, so if any part of it survived, he wouldn't have left fingerprints behind. He stowed the case with the vial still inside, back into his pocket.

"You! Hey! I'll live, believe me. Just you wait!" shouts the target at him. Venn just smiles at the sudden outburst of anger.
"Well, we'll see about that, shall we?" he said. Venn headed toward the nearest window, ripped the curtains off and threw them into the fireplace. Fire started to eat through the public, spreading out through the length of the curtain and to the carpet. Venn opened the window - flames needed air, after all - and stepped out of the room.

...

Venn drove away from the small cabin he rented. He had left nothing but a syringe behind. He had collected the shell casings from his rifle, had left behind no fingerprints or blood - or witnesses. Whatever evidence was left would go up in flames. Slowing down a bit, he turned his phone on, noting that he had five missed calls - the caller had left no messages behind.

The phone rings as he makes to put it down. Venn takes a glance at the number - it said 'number unidentified' - put his bluetooth earphones on and answered it.

"Three fifty-seven?" asked a deep male voice. Venn recognized the voice as that of The Shop's boss. 'Three fifty-seven' was his handle - Venn supposed the powers that be decided to do away with the cliché term 'agents', and had gone on to call them by their firearms. He wondered why his handle wasn't that of his rifle, which he used more. He supposed M107A1 was too long.
"Yes, Venn here," he answered. This was the way they all identified themselves, answering not with their handles, but their name.
"I've just watched the news. Great job."
"Thanks."
"Perhaps you would be available for another?"
Venn's eyebrows scrunched up at the question. "I'm not really in the mood to make contact with another client," he said.
"No, no, you misunderstand me. This one... is an extermination. Consider it a personal favor to me."
Venn sighed at the phrase 'extermination'. It meant a hit on one of his colleagues. And since when did the big boss need to ask for personal favors anyway? "Ok. Tell me who."
"Ah, I knew you wouldn't let me down, three fifty-seven. You'll like this one. It's forty-four. I'll send the files to your e-mail."
The irony struck Venn. Forty-four was another magnum, just as his handle was. He glanced at his watch again. "Ok, boss. I'll report back when I get those files."
"Good. I'll leave you alone now. I believe you have to drive six hours?"
"Yes. Goodbye."

The call disconnected. Venn wasn't bothered that the boss didn't bid him goodbye or wish him luck. What bothered him was this extermination job out of the blue. Shaking his head, he plugged his mp3 player into the car's stereo system and turned the volume to max. Soon, the car was enveloped in loud rock music - couldn't afford to fall asleep at sixty miles an hour, after all....​



That was rather long...

Notes:
- Yes, the main character's name is Venn. Like the diagram.
- Yes, I'm also aware that an M107A1 is more an anti-materiel rifle than anti-personnel. Kind of overkill, but most targets are heavily protected, so...
- Also, yes, I'm aware I posted an excerpt earlier where a character gets called XY-357. They're not the same character.




PS
Hope it's not too... graphic? Did the sequences get through clearly?

PPS
Hey, everyone has a name history now at their profiles, so in case someone changes names again, it's easier to keep track.

EDIT: Some continuity, grammatical and factual errors. Every other surviving errors are mine [I blame my crappy editor!!!].


----------



## Sterling (Nov 24, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:


> Just got back after my PC decided to give me the finger. It took 3 days to repair it, and around a week, maybe two without internet before that. Anyways, I'm back.
> 
> My NaNoWriMo novel is obviously screwed, but I'm still pushing it as far as it can go until the deadline. I figure I ought to show some dedication regardless of my prospects of actually finishing. I might post up a small excerpt later on.
> 
> ...


It's easy to picture, and as well to understand. Might put a bit more detail into the scenery to better describe the area.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Nov 24, 2011)

I've actually done the impossible and made a misnomer on a short narrative where only one character is directly identified.  As you can clearly see, three fifty-seven [357] is the caliber of the ammunition, rather than the name of the firearm. Darn it! 

PS
Happy Thanksgiving to everyone celebrating [we don't have thanksgiving in the Philippines]


----------



## shyam513 (Nov 25, 2011)

Hey guys, I just got back - A Levels have been beating me black and blue. In any case,I consider my weakest point to be action or fighting sequences too, like Shinigami, so to sort that out, I wrote an action sequence out in my book:



Spoiler



It was fortunate I did, for a second later, and the great axe that Leven had just swung at me would have cleaved me in two. Leven or the spirit possessing him, in its anger turned towards Kaelani, who had yet not stirred, and lifted the axe for another blow. In that instant, I knew I could not, no matter what the cost, let that blow fall.  Though I knew it were probably hopeless, I threw myself at Kaelani, sweeping her up in my arms with a strength I had not known I possessed as the blade fell. The blade missed Kaelani, but it caught my trailing hamstring, and tore it clean from the bone, leaving it hanging by a bare thread of skin. The searing pain brought me instantly to my knees, and as I fell, I felt Kaelani awaken, and noticing my grimace of pain, she shot awake and leapt off my arms with incredible grace, throwing herself over my back. I just about managed to turn my head, and watched with amazement as she faced this beast of a man. There was no fear in her eyes, just a selfless determination, as she drew her blades and leapt at him forcing Leven to dodge backwards. Kaelani then began to move towards him, keeping me guarded by her body at every moment. I would have never thought it possible, but blow by blow, Kaelani’s passion and determination forced Leven back, inch by inch. Kaelani’s strength seemed to turn superhuman for the fight, as the great blows of the axe barely seemed to stall her. Blow by blow, Kaelani’s passion won through and she soon stabbed Leven through the heart, so cleanly that I heard Leven groan in pain. He bent, and placed a hand on his chest, before falling off the blade, which was stained black.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Nov 30, 2011)

Just got an idea. Maybe I can try running a serial [most prob fortnightly to allow me time to write it] on my blog here. Might be a lot of work, but it's boring [yes, even as Christmas approaches] here, so...

PS

Yep, Dec 1 over here... I've officially failed my first ever attempt at NaNoWriMo. Darn it. But, hey, it was cool, definitely gonna try it again next year [end-of-the-world stories might be the trend by then, if you believe the Mayans].

Also, I will still post that excerpt I promised.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 1, 2011)

Damn...

First off, sorry for teh double post.

Second... Urgh... What a noob mistake on my part...  If you read my last submitted piece carefully, you'll find it says "Fire started to eat through the public..." Public?!?! Darn it, that's not even anywhere close to 'fabric'. Raaaargh! 

If I didn't self-edit, I'd have killed my editor by now [death by shame is still plausible, though].


Anyway, I promised to post up a small excerpt of my failed [feel free to call me a loser] NaNoWriMo novel. It's now become another WIP.

Hope you guys like it.



Spoiler



_Approximately six and a half years ago…_

Matthew stood on wobbly knees that threatened to collapse from right under him as they shook. He was leaning with his back against the door to the rooftop, and despite the sufficient cloud cover and the cool breeze that sailed by, he was sweating profusely. He looked down at her, kneeling down in front of him.

“Are you… are you sure about this?” he asked her.
She looked up at him, her bright blue eyes shining, her hair swaying ever so slightly with the breeze. “You worry too much,” she said in what was almost a scolding tone, though the way her lips curled upwards assured him she was joking.

There was the sound of a zipper being opened as she bent back down to what she was doing.

“Oh, man…  This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?”
“Sheesh, such a baby,” she mocked. “You’ll feel a lot better when I’m done, ok? Now keep it up, just like that,” she instructed. “And stop those knees from shaking.”
“Ok… ok.” Matthew took some deep breaths until he could get his knees under control.
“Good. Here we go.”

Matthew looked up at the clouds directly overhead, trying to remain calm all the while. Meanwhile, he felt her as she started to work. It was cool, and rather moist, and he did start to feel better. He glanced down at her again. She continued for a while, and as though feeling him stare at her, she looked up again.

“What?” she asked as she paused for a while.
“Nothing.”
“Well, I’m still cleaning it, ok?”
“Ok, yeah.”
“Good. Close your eyes if you want. And try not to kick, ok?”
“Why would I kick you?” he asked her, finding the notion incredulous.
“Well, you’ll find out in a bit,” she answered, grinning.

Matthew felt a lump in his throat and swallowed - his mouth was dry. He decided to take her advice and closed his eyes. Then a bolt of pain shot through his left leg, and it was all he could do not to kick out as he started to collapse.

“Whoa. You ok?” she asked him. Beside her, a small pouch containing a first aid kit lay open, and a bottle of alcohol started to spill as it tumbled over.
“Yes. Sorry.”
She recapped the bottle of alcohol and took out some gauze. “I told you to hold that pants leg up,” she said.
“Oh,” said Matthew as he saw it was too late. The blood from his cut had already stained it.
“Never mind. Just keep it out of the way so I can dress it.”

Matthew pulled the pants leg up again and bent his knee slightly so she can wind the gauze around his leg. She covered the area around the cut with Betadine and started to dress the wound.

...

NOTES:
-  First off, I understand it's hard to 'get it' without proper context and whatnot, so here's the  synopsis...



Spoiler



Matthew is a resident of a mental health facility for troubled children. The only survivor of a yet-unsolved house fire that left him orphaned at the age of 12 (he is 18, turning 19 currently), he is brooding, apathetic, and introverted. The only clear link to his past are snippets of stories about a girl he refers to as "princess".
Enter Kiera, a brilliant post-grad psychology major. She takes immediate interest in his case, and hatches a plan to get him to open up about his past - assume the identity of his mysterious "princess".
As she delves into his mind, multiple avenues to a dark past open, not just in his mind, but hers as well. Just as a breakthrough is imminent, Matthew gets set to be released by the facility. What happens next, and how their pasts affect their present and future, is anybody's guess.



-  It's a flashback. Matthew and the girl [his "princess", who is unnamed in the flashbacks so far] are hiding at the school rooftop.
-  Yes, it's a dark, dark story. Even the humor is dark [does it work here? humor's not my forte].
-  I find that this is my only WIP where the characters have somewhat normal names.
-  Yes, the beginning of the flashback does seem somewhat... suggestive [like I said, dark humor]? Much of the first few chapters [which at the moment is all that's been written so far] depends on increments of selective disinformation, such as seen here.



What do you guys think?


----------



## shyam513 (Dec 4, 2011)

As Shinigami's done it, I may as well too. I went for nanowrimo this year too, but it's a WIP too, so take a look guys:



Spoiler



It is said these words are written at the site of the Necromancer’s Tower, engraved on the only stone that still stands of that accursed place:
“So did we call twelve of our own to us, year, after year.  Of those who came, half would fall, and half would rise greater than before.  Through mastery of death they fought, and those that fell would rise again, but under the control of their conqueror.  Year after year this ritual persevered, until the year this stone was broken. Upon that black day, we accepted the thirteenth. The twelve could not vie with him, so great was his power. Twelve alone, or Twelve together, it was all the same to him, so great was his knowledge of death. Some say he is death incarnate; come to reap vengeance on the arrogance of men who dared to think they could subdue him. We know not, and never will.  He, or death, or both and neither at once, stole our life long ago. You men and women, who think you have the power to face him, stay your blades. They will not avail you, and I fear no man’s hand has power to do him harm. Rather, if you read these words, warn the others. Warn them of this man, so all may know what walks this earth. For us, it is too late, but not so for humanity.”
And carved underneath, by the hand of another, far more skilled than the first, it is written:
_Requiescat en pace. _
Ice:
At the birth of the world, it was said that all was encased in ice. The shadow who sat in his palace of ice, far from the eyes of living mortals, knew this better than anyone. The shadow was a strange thing, with body of a man, but skin of the darkest night, and a broad flame sheathed at his waist. Those who knew him, or of him, referred to him as the Shadow of the North, but as for his true name, it had long been lost to the mists of time. It is said he was one of the first to leave the tower where the dead walk, and that his first conquest had been a titan from the south who had fallen before his icy glares. In any case, he had an army that was as formidable as it was numerous. Over many years, he had collected the souls of those unfortunate enough to wander into his realm, often walking out personally when his minions detected one close to death in the frozen wasteland he called home. It was one such summons that drew him from his rest today. As he raised his head, he heard the call of his undead servant, and whilst the news itself did not surprise him, the amendment that the being made before ceasing to exist had him upon his feet in an instant, groping for his staff. It was said this stranger carried a staff inset with the onyx of Sakkal– the unspoken sign of a necromancer.
The thought of adding another necromancer to his army was what held the shadow’s mind as he strode towards the site where the stranger had been found. Though he was aware that it would have been far easier to use his power, or his slaves to carry him there, he did not want to become careless, or celebrate victory before it had been declared. Although this necromancer appeared weak, possibly to the point of death, he remained yet a threat. The shadow did not wish to fall due to his foolishness in underestimating the strength of what could be a stronger foe than him. So, as he slowly approached, he sensed the air for any unusual auras pervading around him, and found none but his own, and that of another, far weaker. So, accepting that all was well, he strode confidently into the ring of undead that surrounded the stranger.
Fire:
The shadows first impression was a twinge of disappointment, for the man did not look anything like the formidable and powerful opponent the shadow had been expecting.


----------



## Sterling (Dec 5, 2011)

Looks good guys.
@Shyam: A little confusing, but I get the gist of it. Are you heavy into lore in your writings?

I guess my weakness is I hurry things along because I enjoy getting something done fast. I'll type out a action sequence from scratch too see if I can describe it well enough.



Spoiler



I took the corner on almost two wheels as I raced towards my destination. My two companions sat on my right in my small 4 cylinder pickup. They were holding onto anything firm enough to be held. I slowed down a bit taking pity on them since we were near our destination. It was a small grocery story (well in comparison to the all in one store down the street), and it so happened to be the place where another one of my companions worked. Our mission was to rescue him, or confirm his death.

As I swung into the parking lot, I noticed the many cars that lay crooked and out of place. Most of which had their doors opened and a few car alarms still sounded. There were a few people who looked sound of mind, and they looked like some of the people I knew in high school. I pulled in front of them, and noticed the many cuts and bruises the covered them. As we got out, they looked at us and begged us to shoot them. They pointed wildly to the many bite marks that dotted them, and I knew that they were too far gone.. I nodded to Jackie and Jordan who had the silenced pistols. I looked away as they were released. I pulled out my cell phone and made a call to Tony. On the final ring he picked up.

"Hello?"

"Thank God Tony, you're alive."

"Sterling? Hey, I need some help. I'm stuck on the top shelf. My Boss is chewing on my shoe and several of my co-workers are dead. It seems that it's finally happening." All the while, he had this tone of disbelief and I wondered if he really believed that, or just that his boss finally snapped.

"Have you been bitten Tony?"

"No, but soon or later this bitch is going to find the ladder I used to get up here."

"Alright, hold on. Which side are you near?"

"Pharmacy, make a bit of noise so this bitch will forget about me."

I hung up. The pharmacy was on the left side of the store. I made my way over there and walked in. Pausing a bit to grab some medications for later use. I strode to the isle Tony was stranded on and yelled at the thing attacking his shoe on the floor.

"Hey you bitch, I want my money back!"

She looked at me and began a shambling run at me. I pulled out my pistol, slapped the safety off and shot a couple rounds at her legs. She fell and caught herself with her hands at tried to get back up.

"Sterling look out behind you!"

I whirled to see a crippled man limping towards me.

"Tony, Get down from there ad run to the truck!" I shot the man twice. One in the chest, the other in the head. Old video game trick I used. Tony had already rushed down the same isle and pushed his crazed boss into a freezer as she was still trying to get up.

"Okay, let's get the hell out of here." I said.

"Wait, lemme grab some of Melvin's favourite wine." He said.

"Okay, but hurry. I'll be waiting by the entrance."

Around ten minutes passed, and I began to worry. So I ran to the wine isle. I found him lying there in a pool of wine and blood. I helped him up and I noticed the large gashes in his side. From the looks of it, he had fallen on some broken glass after he slipped. The pieces were still inside him, so I had to be ginger in moving him. When we finally got out of the building, I found that Jackie and Jordan had already drove around to where I went in. They helped me pile him in the back and helped me force some pain pills down his throat. We gingerly pulled the pieces of glass out of him, and made sure he wouldn't fly out as I drove as fast as I could to get him to our doctor Ross.



Okay, not as action oriented as I'd have liked, but there ya' go.


----------



## shyam513 (Dec 7, 2011)

@ Sterling - Yeah, I am. A lot of my writing leans into lore and mythology - elements, magic, ect - it comes as part of the fantasy element. I'm my school's qualified "loremaster" according to friends.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 9, 2011)

@shyam - Yeah, the excerpt almost feels like a high fantasy novel.
@sterling - As long as you get an edit in, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. In any case, all first drafts require some degree of editing, anyway.

I just realize my other big weakness that I'd prob have the worst time trying to rectify is my inability to write a semi-decent love story. Romance is just so out of my grasp. I could prob write sexual tension, but not outright "fall into each other's arms" romance. Though being a "slow burn" writer might help me in that aspect. Just let it develop until it's right.

Anyway, are we planning anything for christmas?


PS
Still planning that "serial" idea of mine... Hm...


----------



## Sterling (Dec 9, 2011)

Right you are Shinigami357. I just put something up pertaining to Christmas. Especially since we're just under 2 weeks 'til Christmas.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 12, 2011)

Man a Christmas story... I can't write dark fiction for this challenge... hm...  Gotta think this one through.

I'll just do one for the zoom out challenge. Took me a while to figure out something good enough to write about with this one



Spoiler



John Doe. That's all it says, in black, no-nonsense block letters. The rest is white.

The rest of what you ask? The rest of this tome's cover. There is no cover illustration, author's name, publisher's name, year of publication, NY Times book review. And there surely isn't a price. Just the name.

Let's flip open the cover. Again, spartan as ever. No dedications, copyright pages, table of contents, author's notes, introductions. Nothing. The top of the first page says July 21, 1991, in the same font as the title's. There are a couple of paragraphs that follow, and nothing else. No photos, annotations, references, or even a page number. The pages are rather rough, white paper. I honestly expected  something glossier.

What is this book you may ask? Well, it's my biography. First off, no, my name isn't "John Doe". I can't tell you what my real name is. Second, no, I didn't write this book. It writes itself. That's right, the book writes itself, or rather, re-writes and edits itself.

Ok, I'll back up. Let's look at the book again. It's thick as hell. The last page is another date, some time in the future. Pardon me if I don't tell you what date it is, or what it says. The last page is when I die, you see. Yes, the first page was the day I was born.

We flip it over, and the back cover is even more depressingly empty. There's nothing there at all.

There's one of these books for everyone. From the powers that be to the dying, malnourished children in some far reaches of a desert in the middle of nowhere. No one knows how they're made, or how they do what they do. They show up somewhere, fully-written. No one even really believed they really existed until a few days ago. And the crux of it all is, you don't get to own your copy.

You see, each copy is regulated. They keep them in some database somewhere, so they can see what each and every one of us has done, is doing and will do. Like I said, the book rewrites itself. If you - and more importantly, they - do something enough to make it change, that is.

So how did I end up with my copy? Well, I can't tell you that. If you can maybe read what I did a few days ago in this book, you'll know. But I'll be damned if anyone gets it from me. I just wrote this to inform all of you. Your life is in this book, and it's in their hands.
...​NOTES:​

-  I'm sure I didn't follow the exact rules of the challenge. Sorry.
-  This is partly inspired by the idea [and the book/stories that stemmed from it] called The Machine of Death.
-  The end sounded quite dystopian. Loved the last line, though, so I just had to include it.



Might take me a while to do the Christmas one. Hm... Surely I can forge a dark narrative and make it fit the season? 


PS

Apparently, serials are supposed to be exciting, coz they're broken up into chapters. So if I do follow through with the idea of making one [prob post it here and in my languishing Tumblr], I think I might use the storyline I posted for the "what's your weakness" challenge. After heavy editing, of course.

As it is, I'm up to my elbows in research. Fun times.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Dec 13, 2011)

I'm working on a little story.
I'll put it here, and on the GBAtemp Writer's Guild website.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Dec 15, 2011)

My apologies for double post
Here's the story. I also uploaded it on the website.
WARNING: IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ADULT CONTENT, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THE RULES SAY SO, BUT THE CONTENT ISN'T OBVIOUS


Spoiler



"Silver, can I come in?" a singsong voice emitted from behind the wooden door. "Sure," Silver replied. He was in the middle of managing the onslaught of bills, when his sister Violet skipped into the room. "Big brother, I have a really big question for you." she said in an innocent voice. "Go for it" Silver sighed and continued calculating. "Can my friend stay in our house for a while-" she managed to blurt out as Silver interrupted her, "Is your friend a boy? If so, then no." "No, _she's_ a girl. Her house was burned down, and I wanted to help her out," Violet replied. She had a great deal of friends because she modeled clothes. "She's a sweet girl, and, well, maybe you could work something out so she can stay here. I mean, she's really famous. Her name is Rose, and she actually won several beauty pageants! _Please_, Silver!" Violet begged. "All right, I'll make arrangements for her." Silver sweetly replied. Inside, he just hoped that this "friend" wouldn't be like the last one that came.
Silver was a tall and slim wolf. He always wore a metal suit that covered his entire body. Unlike most wolves, Silver was a Magic Wolf. The few of these kind had all the powers you could imagine. He was required to wear this suit most of the time, except for bathing, to balance his power. Under the suit, he had gray fur to match his father's. There was a scar on his chest from when he was a child. Silver was very quiet, and had a solemn atmosphere around him. Although he was 27, he was still a bachelor. Silver had no interest in these relationships. He had founded a computer business called WolfTech. Silver had two siblings; Violet and Sonar. Violet was a beautiful, 23 year old woman who had been raised by Silver himself. Their parents died when Silver was four, so he was forced to take care of his siblings at a young age. Violet's fur was a shade of purple, which kept her name as is. She was engaged with the actor Fire White. Silver's 25 year old brother, Sonar, was a blue-furred singer who's celebrity name was Wolfy S. He was a rapper, and was very popular amongst teens and adults alike. Sonar was in a relationship with the pop singer Sunshine.
_Ding-dong!_ The doorbell chimed as Violet rushed to the door. She swiftly opened it, and gave the wolf a giant hug. Once Violet let go, Silver gazed with no emotion at Rose. She was middle-sized, pink-furred, and long, rosy hair. A calm aura surrounded her, which added to her beauty. "Hello, you must be Silver." Rose inquired in a soothing voice. "Y-yeah, nice to meet you." Silver stumbled. He thought he saw Sonar giving him a thumbs-up, but Silver ignored the gesture. "Let me show you to your room," Silver managed to utter in a flat voice. He couldn't help but notice that she was just beautiful. The household that the three siblings shared was an enormous mansion their parents left them. The guest bedroom was on the first floor, and Silver directed her to the guest room. He felt a little awkward inside, because Violet and Sonar had purposely chose not to follow him. He heard the two giggle. "This is your room. Enjoy your stay." Silver attempted to say with a smile. "Thanks! Wow, this is a very nice room!" she gracefully exclaimed. Her laughter made Silver feel something he never felt.
Later, Silver emerged from the room. Suddenly, he was grabbed in the arms and dragged into the Silent Room. This room sound proof; where you could talk, and no one could hear you. Violet and Sonar let go as Violet shut the door. "Ooh... Silver!" Sonar giggled. "It looks like you have a fancy over my friend!" Violet said. "No, I do not. I don't have time for those relationships." Silver struggled to state these words without blushing. "Oh... all right. But there could be something brewing between you soon!" Sonar snickered. Sighing, Silver pushed the door open and went to his room. There, he lied on his bed and pondered. What was the feeling that he had felt when Rose laughed. Clutching his heart, he yearned to feel it again. It felt, somewhat, _good_ to him. Silver even fell asleep with his hand on his heart, waiting for the feeling to come to him again.
Silver jolted up on his bed. It was 6:00 AM, and he had to get to work at 6:30! Quickly, he dressed himself, said goodbye to his siblings, and rushed off. Instead of driving, Silver teleported to his work. The process took about five minutes. Reaching at the business at 6:30 sharp, Silver gazed at the clock about a million times during his work. Thankfully, he only had to stay at the business until 10:30. At 10:29, Silver counted down _three, two, one!_ Quickly, he packed his belongings and teleported in front of his house. Normally, he would teleport into the house, but he decided not to startle Rose.
Shakily, Silver's hands grasped the house keys, and he slowly unlocked the door. Stepping in, he placed his coat and shoes inside the closet, and rushed upstairs to deposit his things. On his way up the stairs, Silver caught a glimpse of the guest room door opening. _She must have just woke up_, Silver thought. Most of the time, Violet and Sonar woke up around this time. Once he reached the bottom floor, Silver walked to the kitchen. Suddenly, he was face-to-face with Rose. Startled, Silver stepped back. Rose mimicked the action. "Oh...um...sorry." Silver mumbled an apology. "Uh... Violet told me you'd be coming. She said that I can borrow some things for now." She quietly replied. "Once I finish breakfast, you can tell me everything you need. I'll get it." Silver murmured. Violet was preparing waffles, and she came to slip two into the plate. As she did, Violet whispered in Silver's ear, "_Romance!_" Batting her away, Silver hastily consumed his waffle. After a great gulp of orange juice, Silver left the kitchen and knocked on Rose's room. She opened the door, and stuttered, "Oh...uh... well, I just need a towel and a toothbrush. They got burned with the fire." "No problem," Silver replied. Leading her into the magnificent bathroom, Silver crouched to find a toothbrush in the closet, finally emerging with a pink one. "Thank you. Now I just need the towel." Rose thanked Silver with a smile. His heart was beating so hard, he was afraid she might hear it. After giving her the towel, Silver rushed into his room, locked it, and started to work. He tried to get Rose out of his mind, but it was difficult for him to.
Life with Rose became a little more relaxed for Silver. He was even starting to forget the feeling in his heart. "I'm going to take a shower!" Silver shouted as he entered the bathroom. Removing his armor, Silver bathed in the warm water. He didn't realize that he'd brought the wrong towel with him. Once he finished the shower, Silver glanced in the mirror, and fixed his hair. In horror, he realized that Rose was behind him. Rotating his head, Silver saw her beauty emanating as she held his towel, " I think you have the wrong towel." It was especially embarrassing because he was nude in front of a guest. Silver quickly snatched the towel as he handed her the other towel. Accidentally, he scraped himself on his old chest wound as he followed suit. "Um... s-sorry about that." Silver stuttered. His blush added to the embarrassment. To his bewilderment, Rose asked him, "Are you all right? You're turning red." "Y-yeah...I'm fine." Silver replied. "Well, you certainly don't look like it! Come out of the shower, I'm a certified nurse!" Rose said, obviously concerned. Rose had Silver sit on the toilet, and she checked his temperature. "Well... your temperature is fine." Her eyes averted to Silver's chest, and she gasped. "Oh my goodness! You're bleeding very badly!" He noticed that there was a slice engraved onto my chest, with blood seeping out of it. "Oh... I'll be fine." Silver stammered as Rose stared at the wound. He got up to put on his clothes, only to be pulled down by Rose, " Oh no, you are not! Wait here, I'll get a first-aid kit." She rushed out of the door. Silver was stunned by her caring reaction. A few seconds later, Rose entered the room with a first-aid kit. She used an alcohol pad to wipe the cut. Silver winced from the pain, but Rose comforted him by saying, "It'll be all right. Don't worry." Her hands felt like silk as they applied gauze across the wound. "There, all better! You feeling okay?" She inquired. "Y-yeah... thanks." he managed to stammer. As Silver put on his suit, Rose watched intently. Her eyes were gleaming with a feeling that Silver could not describe.
"Thanks again for your help." Silver said to Rose in the evening. "I guess you must've felt awkward by being naked in front of me. But don't worry, I don't mind." Rose replied. Silence descended upon the two as they looked at each other with great interest. It was as if they had been statues, looking at each other with the same glitter in their eyes. "Well, I guess I should go now. See you in the morning." Silver broke the silence. Once he exited the room, he was confronted by Violet and Sonar. "What _happened_ to you?" Violet exclaimed. Silver told the two the story. After a small bout of silence, they started to giggle. "What's so funny?" Silver inquired in exasperation. "_Romance!_" They both replied. Angrily, Silver glided up the stairs and fell asleep instantly.    
After a few days, it was decided that the family would be going to the beach. "Check, check, and check!" Sonar checked off a list of important supplies. Rose and Violet had been preparing the food to bring. Silver was packing all of the equipment. Finally, everyone boarded the car, with Silver driving. After about 10 minutes, they reached the beach. "I love the beach." Rose sighed as Silver set up the lounge chairs. For most of the time, Silver rested on the top of a palm tree while Violet, Rose, and Sonar played volleyball in the water. "My suit malfunctions in water, and I cannot take it off in public" Silver told Rose when she inquired. _Brrring!_ Rose's cell-phone erupted in a series of beeps as she went to go pick it up. Eventually, Rose went back to the parking area for more signal. Silver did not realize that she was sitting under his tree until he heard sobs coming from below him. Peering from the tree, he saw Rose sitting on the bench. Her arm had a deep gash on it, and her weeps made Silver's heart gloomy. He quickly leaped off the palm tree and rushed to her side. "What happened to you?" Silver asked as she looked up at him. "S-someone t-tried to h-hurt me. T-they c-cut my a-arm with a k-knife." Rose cried as she caressed her bloody arm. "It's all right, you'll be fine." Silver murmured in Rose's ears as hugged him tight. Trying his best to comfort her, Silver called Sonar. "Hey, someone tried to hurt Rose. They used a knife. Yeah, she's conscious. Listen, I'll take her home. You enjoy with Violet until I come back. Okay?"
Silver took Rose to the guest room. There, he disinfected the slash and applied gauze onto it. "I will give you some pain reliever for your arm. It's a herbal remedy that we use." Silver brought some of the medicine to her, and he meticulously inserted the spoon into her mouth. Suddenly, Rose gave Silver a hug. "Thank you so much, Silver. I really owe you one." she whispered into his ear as she kissed him on the cheek. "Y-you're welcome." Silver replied, dazed and blushing from the sudden action. Rose laughed, and she prepared to go to bed. Once she was tucked in, Silver leaned in and gave her a sweet kiss on the cheeks, "Sweet dreams."
"Definitely _romance_!" Violet and Sonar recited in unison as Silver explained the situation. "I hope she's all right, though." Violet stated in concern. "I gave her some of the herbal remedy, so she'll be fine." Silver replied. "_Yawn!_ I'm tired! Good night, everyone!" Sonar sleepily stated as he trudged up the stairs. Violet followed suit and retreated to her room. Instead of going to his room, Silver quietly walked over to the guest room. He knocked on the door softly. Rose opened the door, startled to see Silver there. "Hi, can I talk to you for a second?" he asked. "S-sure, I guess." Rose shakily replied. He entered the room and sat on the bed, with Rose beside him. "So how's your arm?" Silver asked. "Good. About today..." Rose started. "It's all right, Rose. No big deal. Who were you talking to, anyway?" "Oh, just one of my friends." "So how did you get attacked then?" "Look, it's...it was like someone just crept up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, startled. It was some brown-furred wolf. He said, 'Come here, sweetie.' I backed up, but another wolf was behind me. That wolf grasped me by the arms. 'Now play nice, honey.' the first wolf said. He brought a knife on me, and I screamed. Then, he sliced it in my arms. They left, and I sat there in horror. Then you came, and you know the story from there." Silver could see tears welling up in Rose's eyes. "Come here, Rose. It's all right." Silver reached in to comfort Rose as she started to cry. "It w-was s-so scary! I t-thought I w-was g-going to d-die!" Rose sobbed as she hugged Silver. "Stop crying, Rose. It's over. Don't cry." Silver tried his best to comfort her. She eventually succumbed to the warmth of Silver's body. "Y-your b-body is s-so warm. I t-think I'd l-like to s-stay here f-for a while." Rose said in a quiet voice. Silver then released his grip for a minute, _What did she just say_? Rose smiled, and leaned in to kiss Silver on the lips. He blushed at the action. Slowly, Silver began to realize the message. He'd never felt his heart burning like it was before. They started kissing passionately, with their arms embraced around each other. After the bout of romance, Silver gave Rose one final kiss, "Good night, Rose."
Silver woke up to a muffled screaming sound. Silver mumbled and tried to fall back to sleep, but the muffling sound came, and it was coming from downstairs. Now fully alert, Silver crept downstairs. The racket was coming from the guest room! Silver dashed into the room, and witnessed a horrific event. There was a brown-furred wolf in bed with Rose, grunting as her screams muffled into a tape sealed on her mouth. In fury, Silver lunged at the wolf. "No, you are not!" Silver screamed as the brown wolf started flailing. After a slur of close combat, Silver finished the battle with a bite to the neck. Slumped, Silver tossed the body outside of the broken window. Carefully, he peeled the tape from Rose's mouth. Her eyes were glazed with fear. Once the tape was removed, she gasped and started panting. Tears were streaming down her face. "Thank g-god you're here!" she exclaimed. Then, she started sobbing. _Poor girl has been through too much_, Silver thought. "This, I promise, will never happen again! I'm so sorry, Rose." Silver embraced her as he murmured these words into her ears. "I'm... sorry." he repeated. Rose felt something warm and wet roll down her arm. "You're... crying?" Rose inquired softly. "I've failed, Rose. I guess it's time to confess. Ever since you came, I've tried to protect you. I wanted you to think that I was cool. That I was actually somebody. When I first saw you, I felt a feeling that I couldn't describe. Now, I have a clear understanding of what the feeling was, Rose. It was love. I've loved you for a long time. How could I tell you when I probably looked really bad to you?" Silver shakily replied. "Well, then I should confess too. When I first saw you, I felt a calm aura radiating from you. It added to your handsomeness. I just saw pure coolness in you. You were so handsome, and you were so sweet to me. Truth is, I loved you too. I couldn't help but get excited when you were near me. But it was as if you had no feelings for me. I thought you didn't love me." Rose confided. After a moment of silence, Rose flew into Silver's arms, joyful tears flooding from her eyes.
"_Romance! Romance! ROMANCE!" _Sonar cheered as Silver and Rose exchanged rings. He was oblivious to the awkward stares he received. Both Silver's and Rose's eyes were gleaming as the wedding was announced. After the declaration, Rose leaped into Silver's arms and locked lips with him. In his black tuxedo, Silver was as dashing as ever. Suddenly, the crowd went quiet. In confusion, the newly-wedded couple gazed at the entrance. Violet stood there, with a huge smile on her face. Suddenly, she started to chant, "Romance!" One by one, people started to follow the chant. Silver blushed during the chants, and he guessed that Rose was too. After a few minutes of chanting, the wedding procession ends. The couple then drives away with a new car that says *Silver + Rose*.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 15, 2011)

@Shiny Jellicent - Dude, PCs have Enter buttons... Give us a few lines of space between paragraphs. Like I said, no great shakes at romance, so I don't particularly have anything to say.

PS

Love how Silver just throws the dead [I assume it was] wolf's body outta the window. Like a total boss.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Dec 15, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:


> @Shiny Jellicent - Dude, PCs have Enter buttons... Give us a few lines of space between paragraphs. Like I said, no great shakes at romance, so I don't particularly have anything to say.
> 
> PS
> 
> Love how Silver just throws the dead [I assume it was] wolf's body outta the window. Like a total boss.


Thanks 
It was spaced, but I guess the format changed. Oh well...


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 16, 2011)

ShinyJellicent12321 said:


> Thanks
> It was spaced, but I guess the format changed. Oh well...



I assume you copy-pasted it from a preexisting document [kind of hard to write that all down from scratch, methinks]? Sometimes that really messes up the formatting.


----------



## Domination (Dec 16, 2011)

Eh, I just started a blog, since I thought it would be cool to have a platform to rant/talk on. And maybe post some short conceptual narratives.

http://dominationdomination.blogspot.com/

I welcome honest and friendly critics, debates, etc. You can critic me on my ideas, my writing style(Yes, I do realise I have a few grammatical mistakes, but I can't be bothered to edit), anything. I just thought it'll be great for practicing writing.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Dec 16, 2011)

Shinigami357 said:


> ShinyJellicent12321 said:
> 
> 
> > Thanks
> ...


yes... from word


----------



## Sterling (Dec 17, 2011)

ShinyJellicent12321 said:


> Shinigami357 said:
> 
> 
> > ShinyJellicent12321 said:
> ...


Make sure to appropriately space things out here as well as in Word. The program is incredibly notorious at this.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 18, 2011)

PRO TIP: There's a "paste from Word" option in the reply options. It's usually what I use.


In other news...

Still no clue what to do for the Christmas challenge.
Christmas sucks


----------



## Sterling (Dec 18, 2011)

On this silent night
The stars are shining bright
I'm sitting here cozy and safe
The fire; a shining light

You're next to me
Head on my shoulder taking shallow breaths
There's no place I'd rather be
Here with you next to this tree

Colorful and shining
The lights and decoration is dazzling
This tree is warm and reminding
To be thankful for all I have

In this way, Christmas is more
Indeed, much more than a chore
It's a time to remember those around you
And a time for those of faith to remember the one who gave up everything in the days of yore.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Dec 18, 2011)

I'll fix that then 
And it didn't work -_-
maybe because its in a spoiler :|


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 19, 2011)

Weird. It never fails for me. Hm...


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Dec 19, 2011)

I don't have the magic touch :/


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 24, 2011)

Hey, Guild! First things first, Merry Christmas! Well, advanced Merry Christmas for most of you, since we're rather ahead in timezones. But let's not be too technical and nitpicky, it* is *Christmas, after all.

Anyway, yeah... The Christmas challenge. Like I said before, I'd love to find a way to give a Christmas story a "dark" spin, and that's what I'll be doing. I know we're supposed to write cheery, "Christmas-y" stories, so pardon me [I just don't like writing lighthearted, cheerful stories]. Also feel free to call me Grinch.

Here goes. Enjoy...



Spoiler



*Present: Christmas*​_*KRIIIIIIINGGGGGG!!!!!!*_​I tossed around under my blankets, slightly tangled up, as I fought to free a hand to turn the alarm off.​"Hey! Whose alarm is that?!" cried a half sleepy, half grumpy, half exasperated voice. Okay, okay, too many halves, but that's what it sounded like.​I could hear the door next room opening and the padded thumps of slipper-clad feet approaching my bedroom door outside, across the corridor. The doorknob starts to turn as I finally get a hand free to turn the alarm off.​"Excited, are we?" asked my mother in her soft, still  drowsy-sounding voice. Beside her, dad crowded the doorway, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.​"I- I thought I -" I stammered, still drowsy myself, and rather taken aback at my parents' slightly severe expressions. "I thought I'd like to catch Santa coming down the chimney," I finished.​"Well, I think you've missed him, kiddo," said dad. His slight frown had turned into a smile. My smile turned into a frown.​"There now," mother said. She gave dad a small nudge to the ribs with her elbow before coming over to my bedside. She somehow managed to untangled me from my blankets with one hand as she stroked my hair with the other.​After a while, I managed to free myself completely from my blankets, with a generous amount of help from mother, of course. I sat on the edge of my bed, hugging my mother. She always knew how to lift my spirits.​"Hey, you know, while Santa is gone, I'm sure your present is there, waiting for you," dad said. His good humor, previously buried somewhere in his sleeping mind, had emerged, and he gave me his thousand-watt smile. "In fact, if somebody would care to look out some windows, he might still catch a glimpse of a mysterious flying sleigh..." he continued, shifting slightly so as to unblock the doorway.​Before he finished, I was already off to my window, wiping the condensation away from the glass to get a clearer view of the skies. Bad luck, nothing but a few clouds. And snow, drifting down slowly, as though they were also sleepy. I let the thought of catching a glimpse of Santa's sleigh go, and raced out of the bedroom, heading to our Christmas tree downstairs.​...​"Is this really the best for him?" Eve asked her husband as their son, their pride and joy, raced out of the bedroom.​Chris sighed, sat beside her on the bedside, and hugged her close. "This is for the best. He shouldn't suffer through everything that comes next," he said, stroking her hair, much as she had done to console their son for not seeing Santa coming down the chimney.​"I know. But, it's just... wrong."​"There's nothing else we can do."​"Hey! Wow! :Look at all this stuff! Mom! Dad! Come on, look!" called their son's voice from downstairs.​Eve sighed slowly, the way she did when she was faced with a task she hated, but could not avoid. "Coming!" she called out.​The two of them head downstairs.​...​"Whoa! Look! Mom! Dad! It's so cool!" I said, greeting my parents at the foot of the stairs, my arms wrapped around a big box. I held it up as high as I could, so they could see it.​"What is it?" asked mother. She looked rather breathless and emotional, as though she would burst out in tears. I felt about the same.​"It's a 360! Isn't it cool?" I asked,  doing a little two-step dance.​"Don't shake it around now. You know these things are fragile," reminded father, though he was smiling as he watched me.​"Okay," I agreed, and stood still, the partially-wrapped box held tightly in my arms. Father had a point. My previous console got shorted out months ago, so I've been unable to play any games. I can't afford to lose this one.​Just then my head started to spin at the possibilities. I couldn't wait to play games again! I was just starting to imagine what games I'd buy first, when I felt a small tug at the package I was holding.​"Now, now, you've seen your gift. Come on, we'll set it up later on in the morning," mother said, smiling, as she weakly, but firmly tried to pry the whole package from my arms.​"But- ! I want to play now!" I said.​"Not at one in the morning, kiddo," father said. He grabbed me at the waist from behind, and slowly but surely, my gift and I were separated. Father set me back down as soon as mother had put the console away, surely somewhere out of my reach. "You can spend the whole morning playing later," father added, ruffling my hair.​Mother emerged from where she hid my console and lifted me up into her arms. Together, mother and father carried me to bed, and soon I was under my blankets again. I knew better than to protest.​"Now be a good boy and go back to sleep," mother said as she sat at my bedside.​"Okay. Goodnight," I said, knowing they'll wait for me to actually fall asleep before they left the room. My mother and father kissed me goodnight, like they did earlier at eight.​I drifted off to sleep...​...​"He'll be fine, right?" Eve asked her husband as they watched their son, sleeping with a smile on his face.​"Yes," Chris said. He turned around to the doorway. "Come on in," he said.​Two men, dressed in thick, black coats came into the room, carrying a small machine. They started to set up the machine on the bedside table. The machine, as well as the back of their coats, had the letters *RPI* on it.​Eve hugged her husband, her head buried in his chest. She was unable, or more likely unwilling to watch as they attached thin wires their son's head and then connected it to the machine.​"It's done, sir. Ma'am," said one of the men as he exited the room.​The second man approached them, holding a document. "Please sign this waiver. As parents of this boy, you are releasing him into our custody, under a repeating brainwave of your choosing, until you can pay all your debts and the resulting interest," he said. He produced a silver fountain pen, handing it first to Chris, perhaps sensing that Eve had her doubts.​With one last glance at his wife, Chris, who was unable to look at his son for one last time, signed on the line above his name. He handed the pen to Eve and left the room, his head buried in his face, his shoulders quivering.​Eve hesitated, watching as her husband exited the room. She turned back to the man who was patiently holding the waiver for her to sign. "Can I talk to him one more time?" she asked him. The man nodded wordlessly. She gave the pen back to him and approached her son's bedside.​There he lay, not moving an inch, despite normally being a rather messy sleeper. It was one of the reasons she had always had to untangle him from his blankets every morning. There was a big, goofy smile on his face, and she knew he must be in the midst of his 'dream'. The reality of their situation struck her again, and tears rolled down her cheeks.​Without comment, she turned back to the RPI man, signed the waiver, and left her son. Neither she nor Chris had any idea if they could actually get him back.​...​

_*KRIIIIIIINGGGGGG!!!!!!*_

I tossed around under my blankets, slightly tangled up, as I fought to free a hand to turn the alarm off.

"Hey! Whose alarm is that?!" cried a half sleepy, half grumpy, half exasperated voice. Okay, okay, too many halves, but that's what it sounded like.

I could hear the door next room opening and the padded thumps of slipper-clad feet approaching my bedroom door outside, across the corridor. The doorknob starts to turn as I finally get a hand free to turn the alarm off.

Wait... Is this deja vu?
- end -​
NOTES:

- The RPI is the "Recession-Proofers Inc." Basically, they take put your children [or whatever dependents you have] into sort of a coma, trapped within a particular memory, if you accumulate too much debt [such as if there's a recession, hence the name]. Sounds dystopian and rather sci-fi.

- It's the first time I've ever written anything in a mostly first-person POV. That's prob why I just hinted at  what happens next in the ending - wasn't sure how to write it. Or I might have just been scared shitless of my own idea. I'll let you decide which is more likely.

- I tried to write this as accurately as a small kid would see it as possible. Also had to think through the parents' actions. And of course, I had to make at least 70% of the story as cheery as possible, so hopefully the big reveal at the end doesn't get you guys down too much.

- Present: Christmas [the title] doesn't mean Present like gift, instead it means "now". Because the "now" that is repeated is Christmas. Hope that isn't confusing. Before I settled with this title, I considered "Christmas Present/s" [with and without the s at the end]. I think this one is the best overall.

- The boy isn't named. His parents, Chris and Eve, was just me nicking names off of "Christmas Eve". Unimaginative, I know, but naming's not my forte.



And there it is. I hope you guys... liked [???] it.

PS

- I now have a more-or-less concrete idea with what I'll do with that "serial" idea of mine. Hopefully it turns out as planned.

@Sterling - Considering a New Year's Day challenge too? We could run away with this "holiday-themed" challenges [damn, we missed Halloween last November, though | I prob would fail so bad if we do a Valentines one, though]. Or well, we could try fashioning the next challenge to be about new beginnings, change, etc [that's the "spirit" of new year, right?]

...

Anyway, that's me outta here. Enjoy your Holidays, guys!


EDIT:
It does seem like the editor messes up the spacing a bit when something's wrapped in spoiler tags... Hm, gotta find a way around that...


----------



## Sterling (Dec 24, 2011)

We might, I'll let you guys know if I change the op. Also, cool story. Very dystopian indeed.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 4, 2012)

I can't seem to keep this Guild going. With all that's going on right now, I think I should pass the leadership on to another person. If anyone thinks they can keep it going, contact me via PM. (Candidates I think would be good: Shinigami357 - Great writer, and fairly active, Edgedancer - Exceptional writer, but not as active, ShinyJellicent12321 - Enthusiasm.)


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 5, 2012)

@Sterling
Just assign a co-leader or two, something like that. Also, you have your lead writer/reviewer spots to fill. Between those, you should have enough people to help you out. Don't give out on us, man.



PS

-  New Year hated me [flu virus, too] so I guess my idea of doing a serial, is, alas, likely on hiatus while I get back to writing form. If there was ever such a thing. LOL
-  Been reading me some "A Song of Ice and Fire". In love with the story right now. The way people talk in Medieval[ish] settings gets me high, I swear. It's dope, y'know?
-  Still up to my knees in research. [American Football, anyone?]


----------



## Sterling (Jan 5, 2012)

Do you want to be a Co-Leader Shinigami357?

Also, the Challenges have been moved to the top of the OP, and they have been updated.


----------



## Edgedancer (Jan 5, 2012)

Sterling, I agree with Shinigami357. You dont have to resign 100%, but just get some people to help shoulder the leadership roles. I am happy to help if you want, as it may also give me motivation to break through my writers block.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 5, 2012)

Edgedancer said:


> Sterling, I agree with Shinigami357. You dont have to resign 100%, but just get some people to help shoulder the leadership roles. I am happy to help if you want, as it may also give me motivation to break through my writers block.


Well, Well, I haven't seen you for awhile. I'm sorry to hear you have writers' block, but if being a co leader helps you break it then I'll add you. We'll need to put our heads together to see how we can organize the posts.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 6, 2012)

I was not made in the mould of a leader-type person, I'm afraid.


----------



## Edgedancer (Jan 6, 2012)

Sterling said:


> Edgedancer said:
> 
> 
> > Sterling, I agree with Shinigami357. You dont have to resign 100%, but just get some people to help shoulder the leadership roles. I am happy to help if you want, as it may also give me motivation to break through my writers block.
> ...


Haha. I havent been posting anything but I have been reading and keeping up with what's going on.


----------



## shyam513 (Jan 8, 2012)

Hey, guys, if it's not to late, I don't mind chipping in and helping out. I do tend to come on here every day or two, but like Edge, I don't comment unless I've written something new. I don't mind helping out in leadership though.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 8, 2012)

Whew, hectic day for me.

Just posted the first chapter of my serial in my writing blog here and on my Tumblr. I plan to post a new chapter every fortnight. Wish me luck, and I'd appreciate all the feedback you guys might have.

Also, a couple more things...

It seems there are more than a couple spacing issues. Here's what I have so far...

1.  If you plan to paste something and add a few lines, type the lines first before you paste whatever it is you're pasting, or the additional lines will have messed up spacing.
2.  It seems that the spacing issue with the spoiler tags are a bit more... evasive, I'd say. For now, all I can say for sure is if you use the "paste from Word" option and then add the spoiler BBcodes later, it seems to have no spacing issue, so that should help a bit.

```
[spoiler]
[pasted text here]
[/spoiler]
```

Kind of like that. It works for me, anyhow. Just remember that if you're adding anything, type it first before pasting, then add your spoilers.


EDIT:

I love the challenge. I'll get on it soon.


----------



## VVoltz (Jan 11, 2012)

I would really like to be part of this guild, please see my application below:

*Current User Name, and previous User names. (Or the past 3 - 4)*
VVoltz, now and always.
*Area of Expertise. (Narratives, Poetry, Lyrics, etc)**‹*
Writing
*Which language was your first, and what number is English on that list.*
My native language is Spanish, but I also speak English, I want to believe that I am fluent.
*How often are you active here at GBAtemp? (Doesn't have any effect on your application, but it's nice to know)*
I used to be a lot more active before but I took a sabbatical that lasted about a year. Now I am back, but I don't have as much time as before. 
*How often do you write?*
I used to write once a week, short stories, I had a Blog, but I stopped. However, I do want to start writing again, probably once every two weeks or so.
*Sample of your work. (It has to be either a short story, or a smaller part of an existing work. It can be on GBAtemp, or another website such as deviant art.)*
Before discovering this lovely Guild I start writing on my (newly renamed) blog, I have some articles I have written in the past as well, please feel free to check it out:
http://gbatemp.net/blog/17-the-very-many-blissful-encounters-and-interactions-of-an-individual-by-the-alias-of-vvoltz/


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 15, 2012)

Hey, guys. I see we have a new application. Eh, what the heck, a new member!   

So yeah, the challenge, I'll get to it soon. I love the idea too much to just let it slide past my grasp, anyways.   

Anyway, having a few doubts on my, erm, "serial". I know I've been shamelessly promoting it for a while now [though I doubt anyone reads it hahaha], but uh, kind of hit a snag. Not with the story or the pace. I've got that part pretty much under control [I release Chapter 2 next Sunday, and I'm almost done with chapter 3 as I type this]. It's more of a content issue. Well, suffice to say, it's violent and disturbing. I'm not even sure I can post it here, coz I might get banned or warned.

I mean, I can't change it coz that's the way it's supposed to go, but some people might be more... sensitive to it. If anyone would like to help me, just say so, and I'll send you a copy.

Anyway, moving on from that... Yeah, kind of needed to take an extended break to recover from flu [darn New Year!]. Writing's still good to go, though.



Oh, and one last thing. I've gotten a request from a close friend of mine to write her a poem for her birthday. I've never gotten a request before. WTF do I do?


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jan 15, 2012)

@Shinigami357
You write her the poem is what you do 

New-ish poem of mine



Spoiler



*Hindsight*
Abridge the cold and fatal sin
And try to catch my breath again
Carry on, your wicked smile
Into the winter’s wind

Laughed at each and every sigh
Ignored the glimmer in your eye
Amongst the worst a man can be
Beginning to the end

A night-time whisper meets the dark
A hollow, shallow, empty heart
Despite the urges to defile
No coarse words to rescind

Opportunities abound
Yet none are worth a single sound
Far too late I’ve come to see
I’ve lost my love and friend


----------



## Gahars (Jan 15, 2012)

If she's requested a poem from you, then don't worry about it. That's a pretty huge compliment.

Just spend a little bit of time writing a nice, honest poem for her; I'm sure she will appreciate it.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 16, 2012)

Welcome to the Guild VVoltz. I quite liked your Pi (private eye) short, and I'm wonder what you'll write about next. 


@[member='Shinigami357']: Write her a poem, duh. You'll be good for it. We all know you'll astound her with the written word.

@[member='Old8oy']:

Nothing happening in your life I trust? Top rate poetry that is, and I'm always looking forward to some more.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jan 16, 2012)

Sry for my inactivity on the Temp... I'm going to post a story I've been working on, but I can't right now because I'm at the mall


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jan 17, 2012)

Since I've noticed that reviews aren't very prominent here (actually, they're never here), I thought I'd post a review of mine. It's a movie review; reposted from my blog.
*




*​*500 Days of Summer*​★★★★ (*4/4*)​


Spoiler



Rarely is a romantic comedy this inventive. Most romantic comedies originating from the United States at this day and age follows a very staple romantic formula: a person (either sex) becomes infatuated with another person, faces challenges in getting the two of them to become a couple, they have a large amount of sex, and then they end up a couple with the future relatively certain. This movie, however, puts a twist on this formula.

The movie, starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel, follows the first step at least. Tom Hansen, played by Gordon-Levitt, is infatuated with his co-worker Summer Finn, played by Deschanel. The two are virtually pitch perfect in their roles. Gordon-Levitt perfectly captures the sense that Tom has too many assumptions of how their relationship should be described. He supposes that they are boyfriend and girlfriend, regardless of what Summer says it is. Deschanel on the other hand is naturally infectious; channeling the same kind of energy that she uses in every role. Her awkward, quirky charm works perfectly for the tune of this movie.

The movie also follows the second step, however it takes a different approach. While in most of these movies, these breakups or issues are dependent with some factor that pulls them apart. Perhaps it could be cheating, or just plain romantic friction. In this film however, the two don't have any romantic friction and there is naught a factor that would make sense as a tool to break-up, at least in the conventional sense. This movie makes use of how the dynamics of the relationships can pull each other apart. It shows how undefined relationships tend to go down the drain when you try to define them at too late a point. Next would be sex, however this movie contains little sexual insights. It was an excellent decision to do so, the movie was able to remain consistent about its central theme.

Before we go to the conclusion, it would be wise to talk about the movie's most fascinating aspect; that it is told in non-chronological order. In most movies, each event significant to the plot follows one another. This movie does not merely use a non-linear narrative in order to make itself distinct, I fully believe that it is essential to the movie and was an artistic choice. The fact that it is told in a non-chronological order allows us to go into how the narrator, Tom himself, feels. In the movie, he begins with the best aspects, follows with the worst aspects, then ends with the dissolve. It's how we tend to remember the best and save the worst for last. The narration is human. We also see how the film treats the actual day of the events are irrelevant. Why should we care which day it is? What happens, happens. I believe the idea to present the days was a clever decision, it even further highlights the irrelevance of the chronology.

The last step is this; they end up, everyone is happy, and the future will certainly be bright. Before the movie begins, Tom describes how it is not a love story. If how a love story goes is that the couple fall in love and ends as such, then it is certainly not a love story. According to the poster, it is preferrable to think of it as a story *about *love, rather than a love story. The movie ends in neither a high nor a low note, it seems more like middle ground. The ending is a clean slate; a beginning for another story. Unfortunately for Tom, you can't begin on a clean slate without wiping off the slate first.

It's not a good idea to go too technical when trying to review this movie. It's a movie based on feeling. However, for those of you curious, the editing and cinematography are excellent.

*Note: *The beginning has the disclaimer, "Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental ... Especially you, Jenny Beckman ... Bitch." I laughed out loud.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 17, 2012)

Thanks for all the encouragement, guys. Just finished the poem a while back [around 1 am here]. Had to dig deeper than I anticipated to get it all out, and it's not even as good as I hoped it would be. My poetry's rusting a bit, darn...

@[member='Old8oy'] - whoa. that's deep, man...
@[member='KingdomBlade'] - i love that movie.


Also, guys, do you use a pseudonym or something of the sort for when you write, whether you release the product [blog, article, etc] or not [like first drafts of novels and such]?


PS

Still gonna get that challenge. I refuse to let it go, lulz.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 20, 2012)

OP has been update with a new challenge. I trust everyone had a great holiday season?


----------



## wrettcaughn (Jan 20, 2012)

@ [member='Sterling']
Thanks and no, it's not reflective of anything going on currently IRL

@ [member='Shinigami357']
Thanks man.  Anything I write is attached to my username so I guess that would be my pseudonym.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 20, 2012)

My pseudonym would be, "Argentum Vir". Or Latin for Silver Hero


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jan 21, 2012)

Here's an imitation of a journal entry/homework assignment for the challenge.

*Entry # - *Who the fuck cares?
*Date - *November 22, 2009; Friday - 5:22 PM

*I AM DESCRIBING A FUCKING FOREST* *TO PLEASE MY GODDAMN TEACHER*​


Spoiler



There's nothing I like better than walking around the forest beside our school. It's not a large forest, just big enough so that no one can see my friends and me walking towards there. Today, however, I walk here alone. Nothing appears to have changed; maybe except for the scout sign which has collected even more dust and rust. I am listening to my iPod at the moment, so this'll be a little vague. Let's see. Here's a tree; brown, boring, full of ants. Over there's the small, artificial pond that they keep around for some reason I don't understand, no one uses it and the water's starting to get stagnant. Oh, and there's another tree.

Fuck, I seem to be out of it at the moment. This isn't going well notebook. Lemme take these earphones off.

Getting back, there's a fly going towards me. No, wait a minute, it's circulating a tree. The tree that I'm leaning on right now. I look down on my feet to write on this notebook, to which I realize a swarm of ants has surrounded my feet. I jump off that goddamn tree and run for my life. A truck passes by the fence seperating the forest from the road. I swear loudly. This isn't seeming like such a scenic scene to write about, but it appears to be the only one I can find for this goddamn writing assignment.

I notice a tree from afar; one that kind of looks like a naked lady. I giggle a bit. I pass by a storage house full of used electronics and scrap metal that smells fucking horrid. I reach the end of the forest, leading into the sports court. Yeah, this isn't very good. Better just twist this around to get an A. That'll work.

*-END ENTRY-*

P.S. - The pictures. Goddammit the pictures. I forgot to take some. I might have to come back later.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 21, 2012)

Sterling said:


> My pseudonym would be, "Argentum Vir". Or Latin for Silver Hero



Hm... My pseudonym's Ag_C.corax, or 'Silver Raven'. Yeah, with the underscore there. Go figure.

Yeah, anyway... My holidays sucked, which is par for course, but I'm used to it.

Darn it, knew I'd taken too much time to do the previous challenge, lulz. Well, I can still do it, so...




PS

Wait... Whoa... We're now stickied?! Wow, never noticed that. Keep rocking, guys!


PPS
Released Ch. 2 of my serial... in my Tumblr, anyway. Can't risk posting it here, with its content.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 21, 2012)

Spoiler: Challenge Entry




I open my eyes to the Sun in my face. Must be around nine in the morning for it to be peeking at me here. Here? Where is here? I look around. A forest huh? Green everywhere, birds chirping from their roosts. I spy a small furry animal. A squirrel perhaps? I shake my head. How much did I drink last night? Finally the beauty of the forest hit me. Doesn't matter I guess. After all, this place it the most peaceful place I've ever been to.

I get up from the large tree I'd been propped up against, and observe it. Oak it was. Strong, hardy and old it seemed. I took my gaze from the tree and see that there were many like this oak. All brothers, sisters, or sons and daughters. More small animals scurry by, birds start swooping to the ground. All headed to a small stream not far in front of the tree I slept on. I walked to the water and bent to taste it. It was cool, clean, and fast flowing. I look upstream, towards the source. A snow capped mountain, majestic, powerful, immovable. Meltwater from a high peak always tastes good. To the point though, where am I? Then it hit me, the oak grove set down by my ancestors. It was a short jaunt to my house from here. The tree I slept on had directions on it. North, east, south, and west. My destination was to the south. Well, I'm sure my wife is waiting for me.



@Shinigami357

it's never too late to do a challenge. Oh yes, we're stickied. Only recently though.

@KingdomBlade

Love it man. I can totally imagine the run down school park.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 24, 2012)

@Sterling - Is our "writing tips" thread still going? We should really look into taking that up a bit more. I remember we discussed about making a guild back when that thread was started. Ah, good times.


Anyway...

This challenge won't fare well for me. 'From memory' means it has to be somewhere I've actually been, and I don't get out much. Other than my vast recollections of Hospital rooms past, that is. Hm... I've been to Taal, though [it's a volcano surrounded by a lake with a "lake" inside its crater; or lakeception] so I'll prob use that.


Also... Guys, should I switch blogsites? I obviously don't get much [if any] readership at Tumblr. I don't have any know-how on these things, though. Hm...

PS

Changed from the CK Editor back to the Standard BBcode editor. If anyone else is using this, maybe we can compare if that helps prevent our spacing problems?


----------



## jrk190 (Jan 31, 2012)

This is my first short story, but it isn't finished yet. Here is what I have so far:

-The Sorrowful Account of Matthew Parker-



Spoiler



Looking up from the handful of pills that he had just poured, Mathew began to ponder the reason behind the act he was about to commit. Suicide was not something to be done without consulting several places, and considering the risks or factors. He didn’t mind knowing that his family would be crippled, or his best friend would probably follow him in the same act, because he knew that this would be a permanent solution. It may not be able to fix everything that was a problem, but it would remove him from the equation. Christian standards no longer mattered to the boy. Suicide is self-murder, he thought to himself. Murder does not condemn you to eternal damnation or hell, it simply is something washed by the blood of Jesus. Blood will not be shed. This is a narcotic, and will eventually lull me into a deep sleep, which I will not awaken from. Or will cause liver failure. Not caring about the risks, Mathew took his first pill, out of many to follow. He then began to think about what had led up to this. Pulling a sheet of paper from the drawer, he began scribbling letters, then words, then thoughts, about as to why he was doing this. My Father who never cared? My pesky sister? My over-dramatic mother? The stress of school, and never being successful? Or was it everything combined? Raising his head, he tried to make since of why he was doing this, and when the effects of the drug he just consumed would begin.
The first day of the junior year was a grueling task for any teenager. Matthew was no exception. Passing through the doors to the infamous hell that people would later recall as the reason for his attempted suicide, Matthew took note of his surroundings. Nobody was new in his class, it was just fewer people. Running down the hall, with a half-open book-bag was Ethan Redwell. Ethan was one of the few friends of Matthew, for few people lived on the internet and studied the phenomena on it as much as himself. Ethan was also a rival of Matthew’s in many ways, as his jokes were funnier, his art more developed, and his personality much more colorful. Matthew was the superior in a few departments though, with philosophy, psychology, a voice that was flowing and smooth as silk, and literature which would astound a professor at any major university. His musical talent was also unrivaled, as his fingers could smoothly pluck any selected string on a bass guitar. The two walked down the hall, exchanging laughter, as the two friends marched through the halls of their new hell. Proceeding to the dismissal area in the Cafeteria, Matthew discussed the events which had previously occurred in the summer, as several conferences, camps, and conventions had been attended. Ethan smiled, and started talking about the new video game he had beaten. A little irritated, Matthew looked away, and then down at his cell phone. A few minutes left. He thought. Then I can stop wasting my time here. Other friends had stopped and chatted with Matthew before a shrill and eerie whine interrupted his thoughts. About damn well time that bell rang. A smirk filled his face. I was beginning to think this was my only class. His classes slowly went by, the day consisting of him learning rules he already memorized. It’s common sense. Only a complete dolt would break them. A stick of gum entered Matthew’s mouth, as he finished the day, and had finally left school, to be greeted by the carpool driver, a smiling black man, whom Matthew enjoyed conversing with. This routine followed every day, for the first half of the quarter, and Matthew’s heart began to degrade, and rot away, as well as his yearning for life.
Encompassing the school year came a number of breaks, which had, instead of relieving his stress, increased it, and had made Matthew sick of the presence of any family member. His sister, a disgusting creature from Matthew’s perspective, was a whiny pre-teen, who would whine over the smallest and slightest displeasing. His father, whom was far to conceited, would comfort her by purchasing material goods which would silence her whining. When her computer broke, they bought her a new one, when they forget that she dropped it. Why reward a fault? She could have gotten my old one, whilst I receive a new one. Material goods had lost their value to Matthew. He never used any of his technology, for it brought him no joy. God forbid I get some social interaction. I could go shopping with my friends, but my over-dramatic mother won’t allow it. His mother- Matthew could tolerate one of his family members, and it was her. She would never let him go out with friends though. If I make it to 16 without going insane, I just might fix my social disorders and awkwardness. His social deprivation had driven him to about complete insanity, and even Social Networking wouldn’t help his loneliness. I want a relationship. But I don’t know any girls, and the one I did know has moved on.  Jennifer. The two were in a happy relationship, but like when playing video games, he decided to cheat when he got bored. He broke the news to Jennifer, and left her, telling her to move on. She refused to, but eventually did. I told her I wouldn’t let her leave. A tear began to well in the corner of his left eye. But I did. Rage filled Matthew’s mind, as he sat on his bed. His thoughts became louder, and finally escaped through his lips. “I hate myself.” He laid down and grasped his pillow, thrusting it over his face and biting down. “I swear, that if I let emotion take over my mind again, that I will surely kill myself.” He didn’t realize that it was a promise that he would soon fulfill.
Returning to his studies, Matthew realized one thing- he loathed his school. His teachers were some of the most ignorant beings he knew, some of them would argue with a tree over whether it was sentient of not. I know some of them have, Mr. Follouc would. Mr. Follouc was a massive man, and was quite ignorant. God forbid he directly answer a question without asking why he should answer it. Such an ignorant mass would at least put enough effort into educating me as he does trying to avoid answering me. Matthew had been a bit crude, but was correct. Follouc would be indirect with everything he taught. It was annoying to Matthew, who preferred a quicker, direct approach, which would lead to a faster learning setting. I loathe him almost as much as the government. Politics had always been a factor in Matthew’s decisions, and he hated people who were uneducated about the real world they lived in. I disagree with both political parties. I’m rather inclined to independent. Matthew never was dependent on anyone; being self-sufficient had allowed him to remove the possibility of disappointment from his life. He preferred to be alone, and think in his head or on paper; yet he longed for social interaction and attention. He had a true friend, a best friend. But he was gone. I truly envy him, he was able to escape the pain of the world, and never look back. He was the sole source of joy in my life, and he is no longer here. Matthew’s vision began to blur, but he held back, remembering his oath to control his outbursts of emotion. I hate existence. It is a disgrace to the possibilities that could have been on this earth. His hatred for mankind was taken to form a view that few people could understand. When people misunderstood him, he accepted that their minds have not advanced to an open point where knowledge could not be shared in a logical way. He actually felt sorry for them, for they would never unlock their true potential as a human. We could be so much more, he would think to himself. But our limitations overweigh the ignorance of a species. How sad is it that we will never discover true happiness because of what we have done. He sounded dark when he spoke, but he never minded. In class, he would sit, absorb knowledge, and then file it away. He always regretted that he lacked memory. My memory has always been horrible. I can’t even remember conversations. He would pause while thinking. Those kinds of mistakes always screw me over. Ethan finally brought Matthew to reality, a sharp pain piercing Matthew’s deep contemplation. Matthew frowned, then turned his irritated gaze to Ethan. “What the fuck, dude? Can’t you see that I’m thinking?” Matthew turned away, taking note of the worried look on his friend’s face. “What’s wrong with you lately?” Ethan was never good at small talk. “I don’t freaking know.” Matthew paused before speaking again. “You do realize that I hate conversations, right? I’m never good at “dumbing down” my vocabulary. I hate swear words, they’re interjections. I don’t use interjections.” Ethan frowned again. “I’m just worried about you. You were never this quiet or self-contained until this year. I know your friend died, and I know I’ll never replace him, but I try to help.” Matthew stopped walking and looked at his concerned friend. “You do understand that I’m tired of life and all the shit I put up with, right? I’m tired of ignorant people, along with people who have fake sympathy. It’s so damn hard to explain…” Matthew paused, swallowed, and continued. “I have a history of suicidal acts, thoughts, depression, and causing self-harm.” Pulling up his sleeve, several deep, intricate gashes were revealed. “I cut myself. I find it quite eerie, to know how much blood a human has. I didn’t know I could bleed so much.” Ethan was astonished, and then looked Matthew in the eyes. “Dude, I… Uh…” He pulled up his sleeve, a series of random, infected-looking scars showed themselves. Matthew cringed. “That is disgusting. At least I have hygiene when mutilating myself. Your arm will fall off, dumbass.” The two finally found laughter in their discussion, which was the first bit of joy Matthew had emulated in a long time. Ethan finally decided to speak again. “I was suicidal too. I still am.” Matthew displayed a smirk on his face. “How about a true display of friendship?” Ethan cocked his head to the side, unaware of what Matthew was implying. Assuming Ethan was uneducated on what he had implied, Matthew continued. “A suicide pact is an act in which two individuals of a similar condition, association, or affliction create an agreement in which two people will commit suicide, on the basis that one were to kill himself…” Ethan was still confused. “Basically, if I die, you die, and vice-versa.” Matthew affirmed this with a simple nod. “You are correct. Both of us will use the same method. Please make it painless, if you do- I don’t like to do things the messy way. I know several painless and efficient methods.” Ethan looked at Matthew. “Follow me.” Matthew and Ethan went to the bathroom, where Ethan drew a knife from his pocket. “A Blood pact?” Matthew frowned. “I don’t believe in such nonsense, but I’ll play along.” He paused, thought, and spoke again. “Do you have any diseases that could be transmitted? Ethan looked irritated at this comment. “No. Now hold out your palm.” Ethan sliced a simple cut through Matthew’s hand. Matthew had felt no pain though, and didn’t even cringe. “My turn.” A blood-covered knife made its way through Ethan’s hand, revealing a darkened red liquid, which covered the hilt. Ethan then grabbed the bleeding hand of Matthew. “If one of us is to perish, the other shall as well. If not, may the dishonorable one die a thousand deaths, and suffer eternal humiliation.” Matthew smiled. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Well, I guess we should clean up this blood.” Ethan smirked. “Hell no, that’s the janitor’s problem.” The two walked into the hallway, a sock on each one’s hand, which was encased in a hardening layer of blood. They had no Idea what was going to happen next.
Matthew’s first words when he awoke from his sleep were very simple. “God dammit, not again.” He had repeated this each day that he woke up for this month, for he realized that he had not been able to will himself into non-existence. You would think I would stop trying. But alas, my human willpower isn’t strong enough to combat my brain’s natural function to not die. Dammit, that’s always an issue. He proceeded with his normal preparations, showering, grooming, clothing, and medicating. He had actually taken time to read the label this time though. Methaphetadyline- 54mg tablets. He turned it to the warning side. Warning: may cause vomiting, fainting, blackouts, or death if overused. Please contact a doctor if you overdose. Matthew smiled. Contact a doctor? Why? What could they do to postpone the inevitable? I’d embrace the awaited fate! Matthew got into the car and listened to music, a luxury that he had cherished so much. With a halt, his music had stopped, and he stepped into the hell he called school, with Ethan at his side. “Sleep well? You look like shit.” Matthew was displeased. “No, I simply had to stay up late studying for science.” Ethan looked down. “Yeah, me too. I hope I don’t fail.” Matthew cocked an eyebrow. “Science is my weak point. If I fail this final exam, I will mutilate his tires beyond recognition, and deface the side of that thing he calls a car.” Ethan was astonished at Matthew’s reply, Matthew had never been hostile. “I hate that man. If he is back next year, I will slit his throat, shove a pistol down his esophagus, remove his testicles, and shove them in his eyes.” Matthew continued. Ethan was sickened. “That is truly repulsive. What the fuck gave you that idea?” Matthew looked back at Ethan. “My demented brain, what else?” Ethan was disturbed, but continued down the hall. “You need help.” Matthew stopped, and looked at his friend. “I know. I don’t care though. I’m so fucked up, that it doesn’t matter.” Ethan smiled. “Alright, if you say so.” Their day consisted of laughter, seriousness, and ignorant people, as their day had gone by. If only each day could go by even faster! I hate waiting for the hour in which I can go home. Matthew sighed. “God forbid I have a fun or peaceful day. Such a hectic and chaos-filled day is hell for my nerves.” He was right. The stress of everyday life was getting to him. Stress filled his life, and the sheer pain of continuing life had driven him to isolation and insanity. Arriving at home, Matthew raced to his room, and withdrew a moleskin notebook from his coat-pocket. Writing was the one way he could vent frustration. Let’s see… I’ll write about ho- “MATTHEW!!!” A shrill yell had interrupted his thoughts. God dammit. “What?” Matthew sulked, as he left the security of his room, and entered the living room where the call had originated. “Will you do me a favor”, his mom inquired, a copy of Matthew’s grades on her computer screen. “No. But I will grant you one wish, choose carefully.” Matthew loved making smart-ass remarks, it was one of his abilities. His mom’s expression became irritated at the remark. “First off, stop with your smart mouth. You’re pissing me off-” Matthew interjected. “Go figure.” Interrupting his mother while maintaining a blank expression re-instated the fact that Matthew didn’t care what his mom could do to him, while asserting his position. His mom dismissed him, and he wrote about what just happened, and why he justified it.
“Shove off Matthew!” That’s what the message from Catherine said. “You’re not my type, and we’d never make each other happy! Get off, or get bent!” Matthew cringed. You could have put it nicer by saying that I should go die in a hole. Saturday. What a way to start the weekend. Matthew hated Saturdays, especially this one- his father was home. I hate that man. He is reckless, ignorant, and the reason I’m alive. Matthew frowned. The one day he had planned for a date was pointless. Life’s a bitch. Go figure. Matthew turned his attention to his father, a bipolar man, who adored his daughter, but had no need for his son unless he could serve him. I’d be better off staying in my room all day. A brief, yet humorous, thought passed through his mind. If I had a fridge, I’d be set for life. The exact date is unknown, but it had been about three months since his depression began, and his condition had progressed to the point where he had no care for opinions or punishment. His arms were gruesome and defaced, a string of cuts sprawling his body. It was about an everyday routine for him to commit some form of self-defacement. I don’t feel anything anymore. It’s like an exercise. Matthew walked into his living room, his sister pitching a fit and his father trying to quiet her. “I’m hungry”, Matthew managed to spit out. His dad, irritated, looked Matthew in the eye and replied, “Then go fix something for us all.” Matthew shrugged. “Screw you; I’ll make my own food.” As if on instinct, His father went ballistic, crossing the room and scaling a sofa to confront his son. Matthew barely flinched; he could care less if his father stuck him. Through the flying spittle and sound, Matthew uttered one simple phrase. “How barbaric.” His father froze, paralyzed by the two simple words he just heard. Matthew simply walked into the kitchen, a smug look on his face. I love doing that. Reaching into the fridge, Matthew realized that he wasn’t truly hungry. It doesn’t matter. It won’t make me feel any better.  Closing the fridge door, he slumped down, with his back to the door. Why does it matter? He buried his face in his knees, shielding his face with his arms. I don’t understand. I used to enjoy life. I used to have fun. I used to give a shit. But it’s all gone now. Why waste the time? Rage pooled inside of Matthew, his hatred boiling in his anger. Matthew stood up, and proceeded to the living room. His father, hypnotized by the television, didn’t notice his presence. He’s so peaceful when his brain is rotting away from the waves emitted from the television set. Let’s shake things up. Matthew opened the door to the electricity breakers. He navigated to the switch labeled Master Switch. Matthew smiled, and moved the switch to it’s off position, leaving the house encompassed in darkness. Two screams were sounded, one in a cowardly tone, the other in a rage. “Dammit to Hell, if you turned the power off, I am going to kill you Matt!” “Challenge accepted old man. Come find me, and have your fun!” Matthew closed the panel, and ran for the door. He was almost out the door, when a massive hand gripped him. Matthew knew what came next. The other hand had evolved into a fist, which flew like a rocket at Matthew’s ribcage. Matthew gasped for air, as his father dropped him to the ground. Pain, like no other, flowed through his chest. My ribcage just broke. He was not scared, but dragged himself to his room. Grasping his phone, he dialed the emergency line. Before the operator could introduce themselves, Matthew explained the situation. “I need assistance, my ribcage is broken, and I am attempting to prevent any further harm to my internal organs.” He supplied his address, then blacked out, his brain overloading from the situation.
“Is he stable?” Matthew awoke to a voice, followed by a few others. Each one was different, and from a different direction. “Yes. His ribs are bruised, and he has one pierced his aorta. It’s a simple fix, and he’ll be alright soon.” Matthew chuckled in his head. I’m suffering from a broken heart. How amusing. “He’s regained consciousness, he’s has plenty of brain activity.” You’re damn right, I have a lot of brain activity. Emotions and thoughts filed themselves away, while he tried to process the events which were occurring. “I sure hope he’s alright. He’s kind of cute!” Matthew’s brain paused, allowing Matthew to hear those words. Dear God, that was the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. Opening his eyes, a blinding light pierced his vision. Following this, was a female face, a fair-skinned girl with dark brunette hair. My God, am I dead? “He’s awake”, the girl said, her eyes on the doctor. She turned to face Matthew. “Can you speak? How are you?” Matthew managed another quip. “I’m a human. Most of us can. I’m fine, thanks to you. How are you?” The girl smiled. “You’re quite the talkative one. I’m good, and knowing that you’re stable makes me feel even better.” Matthew blushed. “Well, when I am discharged, how about we get some lunch at-” He was interrupted by the doctor. “Rosaline, I think that will be all for your hours today. You can go home, or you can stay.” Rosaline… What a beautiful name. Rosaline pondered for a while, and then spoke. “I’ll stay and monitor him overnight. It would be a nice thing to try, my professor would think well of it.” Matthew smiled. This ought to be fun.
When Rosaline had finally settled into the guest area, Matthew began his introduction. “Allow me to properly introduce myself.” He reached out with his free arm, offering to shake hands. “I am Matthew Dustin Parker, 17 years old, in a local charter school. And what do they call you, fair maiden?” Rosaline blushed, and replied. “I’m Rosaline Michelle Jones. I’m from Cardiff, and I am 19. I’m doing internship for medical school.” Her face turned a bit more serious. “How did you get so battered up?” Her lips moved to form a frown. “We’re cool, so if anybody was beating you, or abuse, we can talk it…” Matthew’s head drooped. “I did the scars myself. The blood loss probably weakened the intake of calcium or any important nutrients, and allowed my ribcage to weaken. The breakage was from a deserved blow from my father.” He paused, chuckled, and continued. “I believe strongly in capital punishment. It’s the only effective way to discipline.” Rosaline was astonished. “Wow. I didn’t know a teenager could be so… Sophisticated… or even philosophical…” Matthew looked back at Rosaline, placing his arm on her shoulder. “I guess you learn something new every day.” Rosaline looked back and smiled. She yawned, and then looked at the clock on her phone. “Well, it’s about nine… I better make up my bed…” Matthew thought, then managed get the courage to flirt. “It could be mutual… if we shared a bed… Body warmth, you know…” Rosaline smiled. “I don’t know if what you are asserting would be… Appropriate.” Matthew replied; his voice warm and smooth as silk. “My dearest one, I don’t mean anything inappropriate. I just met you. I was just asserting that it would be comfortable to us both.” Rosaline blushed, then smiled. “I guess, under those circumstances, it would be appropriate.”



That's all I have so far.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 31, 2012)

It's a good story, tragic, but good.

@[member='Shinigami357']

I think you'll like his story.  It's nice and dark.


----------



## Sterling (Feb 7, 2012)

OP has been updated with a new challenge. Wow me guys.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Feb 12, 2012)

Alright, cool challenge. Me likey.




Spoiler



A lake stands, idle, lifeless and isolated. It has been swelling, almost doubling in size for the past month. Rain has battered what was once a parched, cracked land.

The short, but harsh summer had just finished. Autumn stands as an intermediary between the extremes of hot and cold. Oceans, lakes and seas start to refill, while the earth absorbs moisture denied from it for so long.

The surroundings are barren. Nothing but the barest forms of life can survive such a harsh, unforgiving and ultimately chaotic environment.

Soon, the planet will be a frozen chunk of interstellar rock as it works its way further along its orbit. The last vestiges of sunlight bleeds out as the day comes to an end. Soon, days and nights will both be dark as well. Just as the cold leeches the lands of the vibrancy that the recently departed Summer has just deprived from it, whatever light there was once will soon be lost in darkness.

Such is the grasp of the cold, dark, and totally ruthless universe. The same grasp that has dictated the planet's yearly journey through two extremely polarized conditions.

The last of the rains fall. There will be no more until spring comes again. And spring will be a long time coming.

The planet approaches the cold and the darkness, its arms openly awaiting it, as though sorely missed since last year's visit.

Winter is coming.

...

Yeah, that's that.


NOTES:
-  This was inspired by a Nat Geo special I just watched last night. One of the things it showed was a planet whose orbit around its star isn't equidistant [i.e. its distance relative to the star varies from very close to very far away]. The presentation was, as to be expected, a bit too scientific. I wanted to give it a bit more 'pizzazz', if you will. [just imagine it was being dubbed by someone with a deep, gravelly voice, or Morgan Freeman XD XD]

-  Some of it's a bit too scientific, and explanation will sap the description of whatever strengths it has, so I left them darn things out. Hopefully, you can imagine it well enough.

-  Yes, I borrowed the words of House Stark [ASOIAF FTW]. It was the perfect closing line.



Cheers, guys!


----------



## Click This (Feb 28, 2012)

Hey there. I'm interested in joining the guild as a writer. 
*Lute*
*Generally Narratives.*
*Cantonese was my first language, and English was my second. I'm most proficient in the latter.*
*I'm here from time to time.*
*Outside of roleplaying, every other month or so.*
Sample, from a prompt on another forum:





Spoiler



The brass bell of the 32-gun frigate_ HMS Lutine_ rang loudly as massive swaths of waves battered against its beaten frame. Almost like a duet, the ship creaked and groaned along with it.
Another wave. Jeremiah Cromfeld winced as the dark wave swept several sailors off the deck to drown to their deaths, their safety rope having been snapped.
He was almost mesmerized by the chaos on his ship. The long rows of brass 26-pounders on deck had been fastened down. The proud colors of the Royal Navy was in shreds, and the frigate's characteristic yellow-and-black Nelson colors was discolored and unsightly.

A man yelled from across the windswept deck, but he couldn't make out what he was trying to say.
The man yelled again. "Sir! She's crouching!"
Jeremiah glanced towards the bow of the ship. He could barely make out the bowsprit amidst the sea spray and the torrential rain, but no doubt about it, the venerable ship had developed a severe list to port.

For a second, just a second, he considered abandoning ship. She was a proud Royal Navy ship, but she would never withstand this beating.
No, he reminded himself. The gold must make it to England.
Jeremiah pulled the young midshipman on the bridgedeck aside. "You there, Mitchel! Get below -I don't care if you can't get down- Move everything we've got to starboard. Now!"
The young man stammered a reply. "Y-yes, Captain Cromfeld!" The officer hurriedly jumped down the bridgedeck stairs, ripping his soaked navy blue jacket in the process.

A futile act, he thought to himself. He had already lost the entire mizzen-mast to the hellish storm during the day, and the main topgallant mast came down an hour later. In addition, the pumps and the men working them were half-dead from exhaustion.
Gritting his teeth, he shot a glance at his first officer. He was at the bow with two other sailors, cutting the port anchors loose in desperation.
Stumbling his way to the portside by gripping the rough wood railings, he made his way towards the bow.
'Riley!" he barked. "You're in command."
Without saying more, he turned away, back to the quarter deck.

The quarterdeck doors were swinging wide open, likely bashed inwards by unsecured material.
He groaned as the oak door fell inwards when he pushed on it.
The cabin itself wasn't far off from the doors' condition. The framed glass had shattered, beaten in by the unrelenting rain, and paper amongst other personal belongings were strewn all across the room.
Futilely drying himself off with a towel, he looked down at the rain-soaked canvas charts on his desk.
They were still at least a hundred eighty sea miles between them and Ushant. He shook his head in discontent. They would never make it.

A large outcry suddenly rang out on deck. Surprised, Jeremiah ran out, tripping over the crumpled door.

"What? What is it?" he yelled, startling a sailor fastening rope beside him.

"Sir... It's the ship. The demon's ship, I tell you!" the man quivered, pointing out to the pitch black sea.

Jeremiah scowled. "What kind of nonsense is this?" he asked, pulling out a brass spyglass from his belt.

Then, he saw it. A streak of lightning highlighted the pitch-black silhouette of a merchant brigantine, floundering at sea. The vessel itself was innocuous enough, but eerily, it was drifting towards the _HMS Lutine_'s port side at an alarming rate against the current.
The captain frantically yelled at the helmsman. "H-helmsman! Hard to starboard! Starboard!"
It was a futile attempt. All sails had been struck for the storm. They themselves were drifters in the ocean.

The ghost vessel rammed the frigate at an incredible speed, splintering against the timber of the old warship.
A beam struck Jeremiah on the head and he fell to the ground, unconscious.


----------



## Sterling (Feb 28, 2012)

Click This said:


> Hey there. I'm interested in joining the guild as a writer.
> *Lute*
> *Generally Narratives.*
> *Cantonese was my first language, and English was my second. I'm most proficient in the latter.*
> ...


Very good story! Welcome to the guild Lute.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Feb 29, 2012)

Goddamn it, why is it when I read about anything resembling a Ghost Ship, the first image in my mind is that of the Flying Dutchman on Spongebob?

Also... Why the name change? That's weird... it doesn't show up on the name history... WTH???


----------



## Click This (Feb 29, 2012)

Shinigami357 said:


> Goddamn it, why is it when I read about anything resembling a Ghost Ship, the first image in my mind is that of the Flying Dutchman on Spongebob?
> 
> Also... Why the name change? That's weird... it doesn't show up on the name history... WTH???



xD

It's not a name change, but I go by both Click This and Lute(Hence my signature's name).


----------



## Sterling (Mar 1, 2012)

Click This said:


> Shinigami357 said:
> 
> 
> > Goddamn it, why is it when I read about anything resembling a Ghost Ship, the first image in my mind is that of the Flying Dutchman on Spongebob?
> ...


Correct, I just liked Lute better.


----------



## Sterling (Mar 26, 2012)

OP has been updated. Sorry for the lack of attention to the Guild lately, I've been busy and it totally slipped my mind.


----------



## astrangeone (Mar 30, 2012)

Challenge Accepted:  Write an instructional how to.

Also, reposted from my blog with a few changes.

*How to Make Prison Hooch/Inmate Wine.  (Not Pruno...yuck!)*​


Spoiler



Prisons are a harsh place, man...and inmates need to get their alcohol somewhere.  This is not a variation on Pruno (as Pruno has the nose of a dead cat in heat), but it's wine making at it's simplest.  You can get your drink on with stuff from the grocery store and save a bit of scratch too!

*Disclaimer: Only try this recipe if you are of legal drinking age in your country. I don't endorse underage drinking!*

Here's my adapted recipe:
- bottle of two liter juice (real fruit juice, no preservatives)
- packet of traditional bread yeast
- raisins/dates (try to find ones without sulfates - this ingredient will kill the yeast)
- 2 cups of sugar
- white vinegar

Hardware:
- measuring cup
- funnel
- stir stick
- heating pad (optional, but we are having an odd spring...)
- saucepan
- extra water
- vinyl hose/siphon

Boil all of the hardware for at least five minutes. Open your juice, and pour out about three cups. Stick funnel in top. Throw in the two cups of sugar, and shake until combined. Now take a saucepan, stick some water and some of the raisins or dates you have in it. Simmer until tender - and mash until the liquid is coloured. Drop your fruity liquid into the larger container of fruit juice. Now add the yeast. Shake until combined. _ *Loosen the cap to allow the carbon dioxide to escape....*_ Leave in a cool, dry, and dark place for 5 - 14 days, depending on how fast your yeast goes. If you have having trouble, drop a heating pad underneath for a little while.

*Optional Method/Inverting the Sugar:*
Got something that's really sour like citrus or pineapple juice? This is hard to ferment because it is so sour that it kills off the yeast quickly. Here's a way to make it work....this process makes it easier for the yeast to digest the sugars!

Boil all of the hardware for at least five minutes. Open your juice, and pour out about five cups. Stick the funnel in the top of the juice bottle. Take about two cups of your juice, and dump it into your saucepan. Drop in and dissolve all of your sugar. Also, add a handful of dried fruit to this mixture, it makes it easier to deal with. Dump your two cups of juice with extra sugar and dried fruit into your main juice bottle. Now cap the mofo and shake the shit out of it. Alright. You are almost done - now drop in your yeast. Shake again to mix. Loosen the cap as normal, and stow away in a cool area.


*Finishing the Wine:*
Your wine will be cloudy to start off with. You have a choice of either racking it - siphoning it multiple times to many containers to get rid of the sediment or using a fining agent (which helps your wine clear by dropping all the sediment to the bottom of the bottle). I used a combination of both - racking and using a fining agent.

Gelatin makes a good fining agent - but you'd want to use the unflavoured stuff. Here's how to do it: add a tablespoon of gelatin to a cup of cold water. Wait for an hour (this rehydrates the stuff so it melts faster), and simmer it on the stove. It should looks like clear water. Add to your wine, and let sit for a couple more days.

You might want to freeze your wine to kill off any yeast cells. Do this by throwing it in the freezer overnight.

*Carbonating the Wine:*
This should be done in plastic bottles. You can carbonate your wine in your original bottles - just don't freeze or chill the wine. Add a bit of sugar to the bottom to restart the fermenting process and recap tightly.

*Bottling the Wine/Racking the Wine:*
*Dump vinegar into a bottle, and shake the stuffing out of it to clean it.  Rinse with water until it doesn't smell like vinegar anymore.  Boil your hose for at least five minutes and let cool.*

Take your original fermenting bottle and stick it on a stable surface.  Take your clean empty bottle, and put it on a surface that is lower than the original bottle.  Put one end of the hose into your original bottle.  Suck on the other end to start the siphon.  Quickly put your thumb on the end to stop the fluid from spraying everywhere.  Insert the end of the tube into the new bottle.  Release your thumb, and watch the wine flow into your bottle.  Stop suction by removing the tube out of the wine from the original bottle.  If racking, your goal is to leave as much of the sediment as possible.

*If Anything Has Gone Wrong:*
You'd smell it - trust me. I had a batch of apple cider go wrong on me - and it tasted bitter and smelt like rotting fruit. I had to dump all of it, because it was making my room smell awful!

*Edit: I just had another batch go south on me. (It's my fault for not cleaning out the bottle enough!) It was supposed to be ginseng wine, but I tasted it, and it was vinegar. (Yes, there are bugs out there that make vinegar instead of wine.) Actually the word vinegar means "sour wine"...so yeah.

*Favourite Recipes:*

Apple Cider:
-  1 liter apple juice (there is a shelf stable kind I use - because it's a buck...)
-  2 cups white sugar
-  1 packet of yeast

Strawberry Wine:
-  1 bottle strawberry Fruite
-  2 cups white sugar
-  1 packet of yeast

This stuff is pretty slow to ferment - probably because of the sodium citrate in it.  So, make an invert sugar syrup for it.

Pineapple Colada Cider:
-  1 can of 100% pineapple juice (1.36 liters)
-  1 package frozen coconut water (probably around 1.5 cups)
-  2 cups brown sugar
-  1 packet of yeast

I also inverted the sugar here because I felt the pineapple juice was way too sour!  *Edit:  This stuff is a fast fermenter - even with the added sugar.  I have no idea why, but it produced a killer crisp drink with a smooth aftertaste from the coconut water.  It also produced a ton of sediment - dead yeast, but it's severely strong as well.  I think it was because the coconut water has a very strong sugar content as well.


----------



## Sterling (Apr 1, 2012)

astrangeone said:


> Challenge Accepted:  Write an instructional how to.
> 
> Also, reposted from my blog with a few changes.
> 
> ...


Wow, gonna try that on the 26th next month. I'll be 21 then.


----------



## astrangeone (Apr 1, 2012)

Yay!  (It is pretty tasty - I've made several batches already.)


----------



## Sterling (Apr 1, 2012)

astrangeone said:


> Yay!  (It is pretty tasty - I've made several batches already.)


What do you think of the April Fools joke?


----------



## astrangeone (Apr 1, 2012)

Funny, but not very effective!


----------



## Sterling (Apr 19, 2012)

Hey guys, I just wanted to post my latest work.



Spoiler: A Red Poem





The person I want
The person I need
This person is everything to me
Though this love cannot be

Try as I want
This fantasy is an impossibility
For the one I love
Lives in my dreams

A character of a story
With absolute authority
If I could be with you
I would live for you

Your passion blossoms with rosy hues
Your personality is filled with kindness
You have the looks of an angel sent by God
Your crimson hair fills the air

It is a heart felt wish
That cannot be granted
If there is a person who lives here
Who possesses your perfect qualities
I will find you, love you, and never leave your side.


It is a completely honest work from my heart.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Apr 22, 2012)

Tragic Story... I got this!   
Interpretive ending... Uh...   

Anyway, let's give it a try.

*WARNING: This gets quite gory/graphic towards the end. Well, you did ask for a tragedy.*​




Spoiler



Pyrrhic victory: a victory - minor or major - whose costs or consequences are far more damaging to the winning side.
Suicide mission: a task where survival is almost impossible for the people involved, regardless of success or failure.

Sometimes the terms are exclusive, sometimes they are inclusive.

The aim of our suicide mission is failure. Our aim is failure at all costs; to give the other side a Pyrrhic victory. Our success lies in our failure, but therein lies our victory.

We were fools. But we were fools for a reason.

---

"Let me update you on how the plan has proceeded so far."

We stood, in our semi-circle, listening as the commander laid it out for us. Two rows of either the bravest or the most foolhardy men one could find.

"The first phase has been a success. For the past two months, we have been sending raiding parties to strike at their supply lines, and for the last week, we have started to make a few forays into their camps, targeting important spots; warehouses of food and weaponry, medical facilities, barracks. We have also planted, along those few forays, stray bits of information. And that, gentlemen, is where you come in."

There were nods and grunts along our -rather thin - ranks. There were also some isolated, albeit muted, cheers. The commander, knowing we need every bit of extra courage, nodded, waiting until we can settle down so he can continue.

"You all know what you signed up for," the commander resumed after a minute. It was not a question. "They will know you are coming - they will be prepared. We will give them what they expect. You will come into their ambush, certain of defeat."

He paused again, to let it sink in. We knew what we were getting into. The commander nodded, satisfied.

"Our victory will be built upon your glorious sacrifice. I know this is a heavy burden. Believe me, nobody would be more honored to join you than I. Alas, I have been robbed of this honor. I do not wish to make this go on any longer. I am certain you all have affairs to take care of."

The commander looked us all in the eye, slowly. I returned his gaze, however briefly it may have alighted on mine.

"Go on then, men. Say your farewells to your families, your friends, your fellows. You will be remembered, when these people you will be leaving today will no longer have to lose anyone else. You are the catalyst to the change we are fighting for. I salute you all."

The commander did just that - gave us a stiff,  formal salute. We returned his salute the best we can. Somewhere down the line, someone had started a "victory in defeat" chant. We filed out of the room later, the chant getting stronger the more steps we took toward our impending doom.

---

We jumped out of the truck, our footfalls muffled by the high grass. Around us, the world was asleep. None of us spoke; we were all too preoccupied by our mission - and death. Or was death our mission to begin with?

The driver and the other guy riding shotgun joined us as we huddled together for warmth. The guys from the other truck were just starting to disembark as I took out our one compass and map. Behind me, someone lit a small torch. We double-checked that we were at our drop-off point and made rudimentary plans as to our route going forward.

With everything in place - or the closest thing to it - I checked my watch. A pang of longing coursed through me as I looked at its face - it had been a gift my wife had given me. We were on time; if anything, we were a bit early, but what the hell, if one is to march to his death, better not be tardy.

"Okay. We're here. Check your guns now, we should at least fire back, maybe bag us half a dozen of them. We move in in three minutes."
"Hey," a voice called out. "My gun doesn't have a safety. Is that ok?"

Everyone's head turned to direction the voice came from. I couldn't see who it was, but he was holding up a revolver. A hushed  bout of laughter exploded as we took it in.

A couple of minutes later, we marched on, under the cover of night.

---

Fan out, make lots of noise, shoot anything that moves. Deception was our ally; we will seem to be more of a challenge if we pour forth raging like hellspawn. And then, we die.

"Remember, use cover. We are outnumbered, outgunned and overwhelmed in firepower, so make everything count. Any explosives you find goes straight back at them with fuses lit. Go!"

Twenty-six of us - all the men we could spare - charged into enemy borders. The guys out front - either faster or more enthusiastic - started with the war cries, and all of us followed suit.

The next thing we heard were explosions. Three of our vanguard went up in a spray of gore and cascading bits and pieces of body parts. To my left, another pair had their legs cut off as the ground they were running on exploded.

"Mines!" the call came at last. We came to a stop, picked up whatever rocks or pebbles we could reach, and started to  pitch them all over the place. Mines ahead of us started to go off, and when we felt we were safe, we resumed our crazed run.

Another guy - we came from all over the place, and didn't exactly have time to know each other - went up in a bloody explosion as he unlucky tipped off a mine we had missed.

Ahead, a member of the vanguard suddenly disappeared from view, as though the earth opened up to swallow him as did the guy running close behind him. Cries of agony rang out as we neared the spot where they disappeared.

There was a ditch, eight feet deep, dug into the ground. The sides were lined with barbed wire, and spikes protruded from the bottom. Just as our so-called attack utilized the cover of darkness, so were these traps, well hidden in the shadows.

Did they really prepare for us this hard?

Swearing and making sure to warn the others to watch their step, we moved on, leaving our two comrades to die in agony. Still, another three fell victim to further traps. Fifteen of us left - almost half of us have gone down.

Finally, we made it into their chain-link fence. Usually, it was electrified, but one of the prior setup runs made sure to destroy the generators that gave it juice.

"Bolt cutters!" came the call, and along with it our first lucky break; four of the five guys entrusted with the bolt cutters were still alive. They made short work of the fence.

"Hey, why are the watchtowers not gunning us down?" asked a guy beside me. I shifted my gaze up, to where his was centered. It was true. I could see the black barrel of an assault rifle poking out of its side, but no shots had been fired. The other watchtowers were quiet, as well.
They're coaxing us in, maybe," chimed in another guy. "Make it look like they were relying on those static defenses."

I had little time to consider it as I made my way inside through the sizable hole on the fence.

The others who had entered earlier were climbing up the watchtowers eagerly. The assault rifles we saw would be a marked improvement over our handguns.

"Man, no extra clips!"
"Hey leave some for me!"
"Whoa, hey, C4!"

I barely registered what they were all so excited about when the  tops of the watchtowers exploded. Flaming bits and pieces of metal and body parts rained down on my prone form; the explosions had driven me flat on my back.

Were we failing or succeeding in our suicide mission, I wondered as figures came out from behind the small buildings just ahead. I scrambled to my knees and back out through the hole on the fence.

Gunfire rained down at the few of us remaining. A few guys screamed out as rifle bullets tore through their flesh. We made our way to a small ditch, leaving the others to be target practice.

"Fire back," I said to the guy beside me, who was weeping, and reciting something in a language I couldn't understand. I was sure he was praying. I grabbed him by the shoulder, shook him, and repeated myself. He nodded, pulled out his revolver and fired haphazardly back. I followed suit, unwilling to look out and aim properly.

Laughter rang out from the direction of the fence. I risked a peek, and saw some armored men walk over to one of our fallen comrades. He let loose a volley of bullets that tore the half-dead man's guts open. He opened fire at another man lying a few feet to his left, watching the body twitch as his bullets tore through it.

I shot him. My first shot missed, but my second tore through his right cheek. He cried out in pain as the others resumed spraying bullets at our position. I pulled my head back in time, but the guy beside me had not been so lucky.

Trembling, I dug out one of our old two-way radios. It was set to our distress frequency.

"Listen, we are being slaughtered. Please, anyone!" I pleaded, hoping this old thing still worked; that someone out there would hear me. Maybe I had enough time to warn them: they knew our plan.
"Continue with the mission at all costs. Victory in defeat," came the reply. Good God, he thinks this distress call is part of the mission.

I was about to shout my warning out for him to hear when my hand - and the radio was smashed in a hail of blood and electronics. I screamed in agony, and looked up; the man with blood flowing down his cheek looked down at me, sneering.


"Thank you for the scar," he said, mocking me. I made to grab my gun with my left hand, and one of the men slammed my temple with the stock of his rifle. I almost blacked out. In fact, I would have welcomed that.

I watched, through fuzzy, teary vision, as the scarred man  skipped down the ditch. He grabbed the gun from the limp fingers of my left hand.

"Hey," he said as he turned toward me. "Don't pass out on me now. The... experience, it's more fun when you're conscious." The others around me laughed as he stamped down on what remained of my right hand. Fresh agony ripped through me, but it cleared my head.

Damn.

"You think you can play us for fools, huh?" he asked me. "Say your prayers, little man. I think you deserve that at least, before I blow your brains out with your own gun." He leveled my gun at my head.

I looked him in the eye. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break down. My mind had emptied; no pain, no memories, nothing. "Your mother sure was fine," I said, and laughed.

My last thought was that I was right all along. We were indeed fools. Our reason, however, was a sham.

Darkness...
END​

NOTES:

-  IMHO, one of the worst kinds of tragedies is when a plan comes together so well and so badly at the same time. Seriously, how well did this suicide mission go? [guess "kamikaze run" or "banzai attack" is slightly more appropriate, but whatever] And inversely, how bad?

-  I couldn't really think up a better "famous last words", so I stuck with the classic "your mom" insult.

-  Not too many other details this time around. As it is, I'm late about half an hour for the football match on TV. LOL




Hope you guys... uh, appreciated the effort?


----------



## KingdomBlade (Apr 26, 2012)

Hmm, lemme try. I'm going to do my best to avoid any and all interpretive ending cliches ("I was engulfed in a pool of black!") and overly poetic language ("Death is my enemy..!") that plagues the genre. It's not a tragedy in a conventional sense though.
*Tearing Down Walls*​


Spoiler



Sometimes, you have to take a step back.

Sometimes, you have to be the better person.

Sometimes, you have to let everything go.

This was one of those times. Everyone who could see it knew it. Fuck, even I knew it. But I was stupid enough to not listen to myself.

You know how they say that you should follow your mind instead of your heart, but then other people say the exact opposite? Well, both were telling me right now to just get the fuck away from there and stop bothering myself. Then what convinced me to go for it? I think it was my gut. Like some animalistic instinct that told me to just fuck it all because there might be a ridiculously tiny chance that it'll work out.

But it won't.

All I wanted was to go back to my apartment, call up some friends, moan about how tragic my life is, and start hunting for someone new the next day. Yet here I am, walking along the busy evening streets of the city, with sad songs playing in my head and romantic fantasies driving themselves into my thoughts. _We're going to make up. I swear. And then we're going to have sex. Like we always do. And then we'll get married. A big church wedding. Have kids. Die happily. Or something like that. Yeah. That sounds good. Maybe. I suppose. _And while I didn't look any different, I still felt like everyone thought of me as the craziest person on the streets.

_Crazy. __No. No. Crazy. Yeah. Wait a minute. Still. Fuck. Fucking shit. C'mon. _I wasn't going to let this go, was I?

I'm about half-way there. I suppose. I don't really know how long I've been walking. Normally, it feels longer, but this time, it felt shorter. Dammit. I was relishing these moments of deliberation actually. People often find this to be the most difficult period, the time when you have to decide something important. I was barely a person at this point. I loved this. At least this is the only time where you can't feel any regret or remorse. You can't feel like you did something wrong. Because nothing has happened yet.

I was secretly hoping for some sort of deus ex machina to show up. Like a lottery ticket with winning numbers. Nothing showed up.

There's nothing that could happen.

I stood in front of a door. A door to an apartment. The number plate was torn off. I knocked. The door was opened by a face that was unfamiliar.

_It's not gonna happen is it?_

_Nope._

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

*Interpretations:*​A. The woman/man (the one the main character went after) became old by the end, which signifies he/she was a lost love that the main character wanted to get back.​B. The woman/man moved away and that was the new occupant.C. The main character spent all eternity trying to make his/her decision, and by that time, it was too late. (my favorite, and it justifies his/her actions)​D. The woman/man had found a new lover and the one who answered the door was either the lover or (get this) their child.​E. The woman/man's lover had a gun pointed at him/her. (This one's just a joke.)​----------------------------------------------------------------​*Notes:*​- The main character's gender is kept ambiguous. By that, his/her former lover's gender is also kept ambiguous.​- Indicators of time aren't placed anywhere, to keep the ending more interpretive. The only one is "evening streets" which serves to set mood.​- Indicators of place are there to support the mood.​- Note the fallen torn off number plate which might indicate that this is an old place.​- I tried to keep the tone as gender neutral as possible, but the swears lean too close to masculinity. That's why I wrote romantic fantasies and "big church wedding" to sort of even it out.​


​


----------



## Sterling (Apr 26, 2012)

Great job guys. @Shinigami357 @KingdomBlade Definitely some tragic stuff there!


----------



## KingdomBlade (May 3, 2012)

Here's a challenge idea: write a short story with the 5 part story structure present (Introduction, Rising Action, Climax, Falling Action, Resolution) in under.... 700 words I suppose.


----------



## Sterling (May 3, 2012)

KingdomBlade said:


> Here's a challenge idea: write a short story with the 5 part story structure present (Introduction, Rising Action, Climax, Falling Action, Resolution) in under.... 700 words I suppose.


Good idea, Op has been updated.


----------



## Shinigami357 (May 4, 2012)

700 words...   
Alright, let's do this.



Spoiler



[1]
“This is our technical center. This is where, as they say, the magic happens. “

I looked around the place. Screens with squiggly green lines - reminiscent of ECGs or seismometers - lined one wall. Said lines were fluctuating, up and down, flashing as it hit the respective high and lows.

“While so far we have limited our communications, the fact is, we have communication. We had some trouble at the beginning with our efforts at deciphering the signals we received, but they have stabilized - evolved even. This led some of our researchers to believe they have rapidly learned our language and adapted to it. It is simply remarkable, considering that less than a decade ago, the topic of debate was if there was even life outside the planet.”

I nodded. I could not bring myself to believe it at first, dismissing it as some malfunction or perhaps some misinterpreted stray signal. Heck, maybe a remnant of that devastating solar storm three months ago, but no. We’d stumbled upon alien life.

[2]
I sat down to observe. Technicians went back and forth, checking papers and making adjustments. After one last check, they huddled together and apparently decided they were satisfied. A few buttons were pushed and we heard the mechanical whine as the satellite dish mounted on the roof turned toward a set point. The aforementioned green lines moved even more erratically.

“We will now resume communications. As you can see, we only have enough technology to see the signals themselves. They usually come in faster than our twelve monitors can show at once, so we store them temporarily into the main server, and interpret them at a manageable pace. There is a slight delay between sending our message out, waiting for it to relay back and forth, interpreting and then sending out a reply. We manage communication like this, so please bear with us.”

I watched on. The process went out just as he laid out, taking seven minutes. This was repeated as I watched. The entire conversation, taking two and a half hours, was about our planet, its inhabitants, and some cosmological mumbo-jumbo. The aliens, whatever they were, seemed curious - but then again, so are we - and the entire thing ended amicably enough.

[3]
_2 years later…_

We looked up at the giant screen. The rush of pride I felt was immense. There was a hush of anticipation, but the hum of the supercomputer that ran the processes that once was only a series of signals represented by squiggly green lines laboriously sent back and forth, enveloped the room.

We watched as the first message was relayed back after we initiated contact. We had not communicated for two months, so there was a genuine air of suspense.

The screen showed the reply: SOS

Bewildered, we watched on as another message followed, this one saying MAYDAY.

We sent back a reply, asking them if they were in trouble, knowing full well we had no way to help them. The reply: YOUR PLANET IS.

At this, there were gasps. No doubt, visions of alien invasions danced around their minds. We sent back a reply, asking them what the trouble is. We got two words - HELP COMING - and the signals stopped.

[4]
_Three days later…_

“Today, as scenes straight out of a science-fiction story played out across major cities around the globe, the heads of UN-member nations pledged to keep Earth safe from ‘agents of destruction, human or otherwise.’ Meanwhile, the scientific community is at odds to re-establish contact with aliens who have earlier…”

The news broadcast never finished. The reporter slumped forward on the desk, lifeless. The camera tumbled, showing a view of the floor as the cameraman suffered the same fate.

---

_A week after final contact…_

The supercomputer, left on and running, received another message.

THREAT ELIMINATED

There was no one there to receive it.

[5]
Outside, birds chirped happily, and dogs, cats and various other animals - previously pets - roamed about, though they steered clear of the inert human corpses. Vehicles littered the road and structures were looking worn.

Help had come and cleansed the Earth, just as promised.
--- END ---​NOTES:

-  I had some trouble dividing it exactly into the five parts, so if it doesn't fall exactly into the 5-part structure, please pardon me.
-  Word had it at 699 words, though it does count the '[1]' indicating the parts and the '---' I used as story breaks.
-  Anyway, I thought I'd indulge my sci-fi side a bit.
-  I was always intrigued by the idea [well, crazy theory] that humanity might be a plague on our planet, so I let it play out on my head.
-  Also... thoughtful aliens, eh? Too bad their thoughtfulness was, in this case, a bit extreme. Then there are [apparently-painless] death rays[???]. Poor reporter.
-  Yes, the Aliens misused the distress signals a bit. That was deliberate.
-  One last thing. I didn't want to really elaborate on the whole 'wiping out 7 billion beings' thing, but the story kind of needed it. I decided to make it 'peaceful' as a compromise of sorts. Also unsure of how to depict the aliens [so I didn't].



Shinigami out.


----------



## Tsuteto (May 4, 2012)

*This could be good for me.  I'll post a sample story later, at work right *

*- Writer Application*
*Current User Name: Tsuteto*
*Area of Expertise: Short story*
*Which language was your first: English, nothing else*
*How often are you active here at GBAtemp: Every other day, since I try not to overly post for the sake of posting*
*How often do you write? Not much nowadays, though I do still have story ideas in mind*
*Sample of your work: COMING SOON (Will edit)*
*EDIT: I just went through some of my stories, and realized they're all like, minimum five years ago, and probably aren't reflective of anything I do now XD  I'll type a new one this week some time*


----------



## Shinigami357 (May 6, 2012)

Why are random words in our posts being converted into filetrip links???


----------



## Sterling (May 7, 2012)

Tsuteto said:


> *This could be good for me.  I'll post a sample story later, at work right *
> 
> *- Writer Application*
> *Current User Name: Tsuteto*
> ...


I'm looking forward to it. 



Shinigami357 said:


> 700 words...
> Alright, let's do this.
> 
> 
> ...



Very good Shinigami, as expected of a god of death.


----------



## shyam513 (May 13, 2012)

Hey guys, sorry for the long Hiatus. A-levels start tomorrow, so I've been busy, Decided to write a quick poem to keep myself busy, so here it is:



Spoiler



Whenever my soul is restless and wild,
As confused and distant as that of a child,
There is a place, of which I am part,
That holds the power to quell my heart.
But why has this place a power untold?
To calm your fire, to loosen the world’s hold?
And how is it such that when you feel fear,
Your mind retreats to this land you hold dear?
Well, several years ago, my childish mind,
Sought out peace, and tried to find,
Amidst a ceremony of utmost grace,
A peaceful and heart-warming musing space.
And whereupon I stood and searched,
A silent starling, upon a branch perched,
Chose to look, and saw my strain,
And drew my gaze with her haunting refrain.
My mind was drawn; I looked to her eyes,
And saw within a mind fair and wise.
One that had seen the years of the past,
And remembered every one to the least and last. 
So when the starling rose, borne by her wings,
Her thoughts were perhaps on different things,
But as I followed, and watched as she flew,
She chose to share with me that which she knew.
She led me to a place where my heart stood still,
A garden where nature yet had its fill.
For across the fields of grass and clover,
Ran a river, its path flowing over,
Slender steps of slate, and upon its shore,
Lies my willow tree, both sturdy and sure.
And almost as though it had been made for me,
Was a smooth hollow, in the shade of Mahogany,
As if it had been used by others, in the ages past,
Who had sat in the magic that this nature had cast.
For when I sat against that Willow’s heart,
My mind and soul both far apart,
And both felt distant, as though rent from time,
Lost in the beauty of the river in its prime.
For as the minutes passed, and turned to hours,
So my story begun, in this hollow of ours,
A place where only friends have ever gone,
Friends held together by naught but a song.
And though I expected, that after a while,
This sight would become but a mere facsimile,
The more I searched, the more I saw,
Of the birds and beasts of talon and claw.
For amongst the pine trees to the west,
There lay upon a Thrush’s nest,
And far further, in the trees of the east,
A family of squirrels gathered about their feast.
And, when I looked far north, to the skies I knew,
There Kites and Eagles dived and flew,
And as the day faded into dusk,
Amidst the soft-scented heather’s musk,
I sat and though, with no logic in part,
How it was my Starling’s heart,
Would tell her where my worries lay,
And tempt her to show me beauty this way.
And as the dusk passed into a deep white moon,
I left my hollow, and vowed to return soon.
And so, whereupon my heart feels rage,
Or perhaps my story merely needs a new page,
My heart is drawn to the grassy loam,
Upon which, I found another home.
For although alone, bereft of human voice,
The Starling’s field is my rest of choice.
For the river is my soul, as it flows evermore,
While the willow is my heart, both sturdy and sure.
Although I know not how the field came to be,
And who next will find solace within, after me
The spirits of my friends that dwell there in peace,
Are with me in all, and that does not cease.


----------



## Sterling (May 16, 2012)

Good stuff Shyam!


----------



## Shinigami357 (May 26, 2012)

Hey, guys...

Haven't been active lately [don't ask; it's football]. Also, I've been rather busy. By busy, I mean, typing out 28k words in the last dozen days. My mental block decided it has long since overstayed its welcome and decided to leave me alone. I've rediscovered my writing [yes, that sounded melodramatic, but whatevs], and no doubt I will again and again.

Anyway, I have a small suggestion. Maybe we should write an essay [damn, that word takes me back to school] sometime. No rules [except the forum rules and the guild rules], just free expression. Plus, it allows us to see how each of us thinks and how we relate that by our writing style. Also, it's the most natural way of using a forum [just find a topic and write] so there's no pressure.

Anyway... Shinigami out.


----------



## Sterling (May 27, 2012)

Shinigami357 said:


> Hey, guys...
> 
> Haven't been active lately [don't ask; it's football]. Also, I've been rather busy. By busy, I mean, typing out 28k words in the last dozen days. My mental block decided it has long since overstayed its welcome and decided to leave me alone. I've rediscovered my writing [yes, that sounded melodramatic, but whatevs], and no doubt I will again and again.
> 
> ...


Great idea!


----------



## Shinigami357 (May 31, 2012)

Holy shit, I'm so fucking giddy. Bear with me [and the profanity] while I gush... erm, let my happiness pour forth... 

Anyway...

I've gone and written a story over 50k words! Wooot! Damn, just reading that makes me want to smile. I feel like I'm ten or something.

Anyway, yeah... This took me completely by surprise. Quite literally I started May with a really bogged-down story that was all of one and a half chapters [and the short prologue] and June came and I have... well, technically a novel. It's not yet finished, though. But it will be soon. Kind of like my early birthday gift to myself.

Ok... I need to calm down 


All my postcripts are spoiler'd coz they are longer than the actual post... lulz



Spoiler



PS

If this works out the way I think it will, the next 4 chapters should be called:
Fairy Tales of War
The Fourth Brother
Touchdown
All Fall Down[prob the ending]

Just to give you guys an idea how insane and out of nowhere this thing grasped me. I mean, even to me, the chapter titles make little to no sense[out of context, that is]. I'm just going along for the ride. And yes, I'm planning a sequel.

PPS

Well, gotta do my customary 2 backups [can never be too careful] and get some sleep. Darn, this is fun, but it is draining. Urgh. Not gonna complain, though.

PPPS [damn... post-post-post-script???]

Ok... Really, enough about me. How are you all? Missed hearing from you guys.




Shinigami out.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 1, 2012)

My attention span can't handle sitting down and writing for more than an hour.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 1, 2012)

Sterling said:


> My attention span can't handle sitting down and writing for more than an hour.



Whoops, misclick. I got the 'like' button rather than quote. Sorry. [insert tactical facepalm here]

Anyway, yeah, I live in a very uninteresting, humdrum daily cycle.

Trust me, at 2 am [nocturnal-ism FTW!!!] with my playlist as my only companion, it's like the hours just slide past.


PS
This whole 'american football' angle sucks since i don't like the sport per se [thank god for eyeshield 21, or I'd prob ditch this part of the story].


----------



## Sterling (Jun 1, 2012)

Shinigami357 said:


> Sterling said:
> 
> 
> > My attention span can't handle sitting down and writing for more than an hour.
> ...


I frequently stay up for days on end. I get into the mood to write and an hour later I'm doing something else entirely. Whether that be video games, or watching an anime series over again (I don't have internet at my apartment), or fapping. It doesn't matter how much of a mood I'm in to write, something else captures my attention, but I'd like nothing more to write an incredible fantasy novel to be loved by many. If only my squirrelism could cure itself.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 2, 2012)

When you find the right trigger, you'll get into a zen-like state while writing.

For me it was my characters. Well, this one particular story's characters, that is. At the risk of sounding like Dr. Frankenstein... I just want to see it [well, them] aliiiiiiive!!! For everyone else it could be their setting, the plot, the idea/symbolism, or maybe just one scene stuck in their minds that unravels into a story. Heck, it could just be the ambition to become a multimillion-dollar writer, hahahahaha!!!

At least that's how it worked for me. You'll get there too. I'd love to read that fantasy novel.

PS
I just spent thirty minutes determining if a cornerback can legally swat away a forward pass as it heads for the wide receiver [technically, yes]. Urgh, God help me.


----------



## astrangeone (Jun 8, 2012)

Hey guys and gals.  I haven't been writing because I've been temping for my mother's job - stupid accounting work.  Anyhow, I will be back with an actual story and some more writing after this week!


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 11, 2012)

astrangeone said:


> Hey guys and gals.  I haven't been writing because I've been temping for my mother's job - stupid accounting work.  Anyhow, I will be back with an actual story and some more writing after this week!



Numbers? Urgh. IMHO Words>>>Numbers, any given day.

We hope to see you amongst our ranks, working amongst words [there's a reason writers write... right?] again soon. 

---

Anyway, I'm up to my ears in making draft 2 [draft 1 complete, yea!!!]. It's a complete rewrite, and I hate it. Then again, my first draft ended up as you would expect a story that was written in the space of a month to end up: not very polished.


----------



## astrangeone (Jun 11, 2012)

Yeah, definately.  Accounts payable...yesh.  Not what I trained for.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 12, 2012)

I've so much inspiration, but I also posess zero direction. With so little form, my writing has suffered. Meh, here's a poem that's apt I think.

On a lightless night
I sit and write
Kicking back in my chair

On this night I sit in the dark
My thoughts sit without form
Now and again I leave them there

I come back when its light
There they sit shapeless and void
gyrating with the fury of a thousand suns

This needs to stop
My writer's block
Will otherwise keep my ideas inside


----------



## ars25 (Jun 20, 2012)

this is an exert from a story i'm writing



Spoiler



Chaprter 1 Prologue

My name is Ray most of my life i have lived was normal untill the fated day. it all started like normal i woke up ate breakfast got ready for school,but that's when it all went down hill. i noticed something diffrent there was a new kid at school. in a twisted chain of events she would turn out to be some thing usefull and my best friend."hi ray." what do you want and how do you know my name."i asked." well stop bothering me and leave me alone."oh well since i know your name i might as well tell you my name it's Angelica but people call me Angel for short." didn't i tell you to leave me alone."but....."SHUT UP didn't i said to leave me alone."but i can't leave you alone not yet not until you regain your former self". little did i know but that was the start of some thing that would last forever.


 can you tell me what to improve on


----------



## Sterling (Jun 22, 2012)

@Ars

For starters, a good grammar and spell checker. It was hard to read. Second I can't exactly follow what's going on. I don't really even know what your excerpt is about. I apologize if this seems a bit harsh, but you really need to improve your grasp of the English language, story flow and structure.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 22, 2012)

ars25 said:


> this is an exert from a story i'm writing
> 
> 
> 
> ...



Cool. How long have you been on this story? Alternately, how far into it are you? I understand some people write faster, so story length might be a batter indicator than time spent.

Ok, from your profile, you're rather young. That's good.

I'll try to gather as much from the excerpt, though it is rather short. I'm sure our other members can get more out of it, seeing as I have a seeming allergy to short stories/excerpts. Anyway, here I go...

First, you seem to be having trouble molding your sentences. You have to give your narration pause sometimes. In particular, you need a bit more punctuations. I'm particular to dashes and semi-colons, but all you really need is a few commas here and there. Nothing major.

Second, you need to give your dialogue clarity. Not the words the characters are saying, but just the dialogue as a whole. Some quotation marks,as well as a system of identifying who is saying who, and that's about it.

Don't worry about spacing and having to almost sound redundant with the 'he said' 'she said' things. Later on in the story, when your characters - and the way they speak - are more established, you can get away without the 'he said' 'she said' identifiers, but never shy away from them.

It's just a few adjustments. A little spacing, some way of knowing who is saying what, and quotation marks. You can inject some action, or indeed a description of your characters given they're both just been introduced, even. It'll become second-nature to you.

Third. Well, I agree with Sterling some. I do believe you need to do a once-over, but don't beat yourself up over it. Technically speaking, prose can get away from some of the hard-and-fast rules of grammar. Of course, that's usually due to style and the writer's preferences.

The grammar and spelling will come. Just watch out for it, and yeah, just do a once-over. Everyone has to edit, anyway.

---

That's it for me, really. Just three things. I won't even try to figure out the story, since the excerpt was rather short. It's a fairly straightforward beginning - boy meets girl, and said girl and meeting are foreshadowed to have greater implications later on - so it works for me. No drama [that sucks] and there's a hook in it to make you keep going.

One more thing before I get into my other rantings... 



Spoiler



Alternately: a specific detail that may or may not be counted as advice.

-  I noticed you used "'the' fated day". Now, I'm not one for fate or destiny, but when a story does delve into it, it usually does it more than once. So, if you wish to highlight a certain fated [or to use the more prevalent term 'fateful'] day, you should probably use 'that'.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jun 22, 2012)

I did say something about ranting, but above post got a wee bit long. So, sorry for the double post.

So I'm five chapters into my rewrite of the 'novel' I wrote in May. It's going slow, but it's going well, so no complaints there.

Thing is, I've had to change it quite a bit. I'm sure the second draft is better than the first, though. Like I said before, I wanted my characters 'alive', and this rewrite allows me to define them better, so that's well and good.

My major problem is the opposite of the first draft. Back then I had a tendency to be too verbose. Now, I feel like the narration is clipped. It's better and it fits the story, but I have yet to decide if it works in the long run.

Other than that, there's only a few dialogue problems and some bits to smooth out. Only one major plot point I'm reconsidering, so it's not trouble. Wish me luck.

Also, I've had to do some thinking about that WIP that I started for NaNoWriMo [and failed to finish, lulz]. It's the only other WIP I've put back in the PC other than the one I'm rewriting after the PC was reformatted. Before, I specified that it wasn't a 'love story' [seeing as I suck at those]. Now I'm considering if I can write it as a 'dark' love story [big surprise coming out of me, huh?], though that's partially because I'm sick to death of all the sickeningly-sweet ones I've read or seen. Urk.

Should I do it? As it is, I'm loathe to let anyone read that one because it is dark [the excerpt I posted here was rather tame, though quite suggestive]. The whole 'love story' angle just makes it seem so overkill. 

Yes, I'm more afraid of writing a 'love story' than a dark one. Go figure.  

---

Anyway, enough about that. How are you all?


----------



## astrangeone (Jul 1, 2012)

I also noticed that I can't seem to write a "good" love story without adding dark components.  Maybe it's just me being a cynical b***h, but I don't seem to be that romantically inclined.

I have a story that I'm working on now.  It's more of a fantasy/love story/detective story.

Basically, a detective who's a touch physic (sp>) (she gets emotions/feelings from touching objects or humans) is trying to solve a case in which the victim is put into a crazy state.  She falls in love with the victim, and I can't seem to write her romantic parts without her seeming crazy and out of character.  I've been working on this since high school - terrible!  (Maybe 7 years ago since I started writing this.  It's on my second draft now...but seriously annoying.)


----------



## Sterling (Jul 1, 2012)

I've still got many ideas floating in the pea soup surrounding the inside and outside of my brain. However, I don't have the time or patience to wdite these days. Maybe I should script and film porn... That would be a riot.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jul 1, 2012)

astrangeone said:


> I also noticed that I can't seem to write a "good" love story without adding dark components.  Maybe it's just me being a cynical b***h, but I don't seem to be that romantically inclined.
> 
> I have a story that I'm working on now.  It's more of a fantasy/love story/detective story.
> 
> Basically, a detective who's a touch physic (sp>) (she gets emotions/feelings from touching objects or humans) is trying to solve a case in which the victim is put into a crazy state.  She falls in love with the victim, and I can't seem to write her romantic parts without her seeming crazy and out of character.  I've been working on this since high school - terrible!  (Maybe 7 years ago since I started writing this.  It's on my second draft now...but seriously annoying.)



I know what you mean. Maybe we just adhere to the idea that 'love' isn't supposed to be romantic all the time; thus, 'love story' needs not be, uh... typical. LOL

My characters are anti-social ['psychopath' seems a tad too harsh]. The kind who, if they met in a different setting or under different circumstances, would probably be trying to get rid of each other.

I guess that's what got me thinking about turning it into a 'love story'. I mean, 'burned the house down to be together' sounds better than 'burned the house down because he finally had enough'. Technically, I can't write the romantic parts normally because I made my characters that way.

PS

I'm stocking up on 'doomed/really effed up love stories' by re-reading a book. [Why'd you let Susan burn, why???]

PPS

[member=Sterling] - Porn has a script? Really?


----------



## astrangeone (Jul 1, 2012)

Lol.  Don't I know it - my characters are fully fleshed out in this story, but I just can't make them connect - because one of them has altered mental status and the other seems like a user of people. Maybe I should just write it as an one-sided love thing.


----------



## Sterling (Jul 2, 2012)

@[member='Shinigami357']
It would if I were directing it.  Haha!


----------



## Sterling (Jul 28, 2012)

Hey guys, I got motivated to write again. I've been busy and I'd like your opinions on this next excerpt.



Spoiler: The Quantum Leap





It is the year 200 AV. 200 years after the Earth was completely destroyed and re-forged.  AV stands for “After Virtualization”. Let me explain. At one point in time the Earth was in imminent danger. A rouge asteroid had been knocked on course for a full on collision with Earth. The world’s leading scientists tried everything. From deflection, to destruction nothing could alter its course. At this point, Quantum Computing was in its prime. There was a scientist who initially suggested a radical plan. It was a plan that sounded so crazy that it had to work.

The plan was to use the innate qualities of the Universe to create a Quantum cloud of equal size. The first step was to turn the entire Earth into a giant Quantum Computer, then link every denizen to it. At this point, the asteroid was not public knowledge. Once the Earth had been quietly turned into a Quantum Computer, a new video game was released. It was of such size and scope that it required the players to upload themselves into the virtual world. At first it was only the young who went for it. The older people much preferred physical controllers and “old school” methods of gaming. They soon saw the error of their ways and joined the player base.

After step one was completed the next was to make it to where the players could live in the virtual world. This step was completed by making the game a form of addiction. When players were “materialized” they were reminded constantly of their short comings and over time the game became their home on its own. Eventually, there was no one else on Earth. Then step three was initiated.

It was the process of completely disassembling the Earth and dispersing the atoms across the Universe as a base for the cloud.  Think of it as a mini Big Bang. The Earth is a Quantum Computer at this point, so once the atoms are dispersed, the atoms were programmed to expand by taking over other atoms and adding them to the cloud. This would eventually expand them across the Universe, not only infinitely expanding the cloud, but also the amount of data that can be stored and manipulated.

As data entities, we never age beyond what we want, we never die, and we can continue to procreate indefinitely. It’s the dawn of another day and we’ve got all the time in the Universe to make the most of it.


----------



## astrangeone (Jul 30, 2012)

Reads like a creepypasta, I think.  It's an interesting concept because hey, most people are terrified of death or being uploaded into a computer....losing physical form is pretty damn scary.


----------



## Sterling (Jul 31, 2012)

astrangeone said:


> Reads like a creepypasta, I think.  It's an interesting concept because hey, most people are terrified of death or being uploaded into a computer....losing physical form is pretty damn scary.


That was kinda the vibe I was going for. Though, I wouldn't mind one bit (lol) personally. At any rate, I'm trying to draw inspirations from animes like Code Lyoko, and Bleach. I'm hoping it'll turn out okay.


----------



## shyam513 (Aug 9, 2012)

Hey guys - I've been busy with exams lately, so I've had no time to write. You can expect a fair plethora of stories to make up for it soon though!


----------



## Sterling (Aug 9, 2012)

shyam513 said:


> Hey guys - I've been busy with exams lately, so I've had no time to write. You can expect a fair plethora of stories to make up for it soon though!


Its cool. Not much has been going on here. We've all been busy lately. Please post when you've done some, I look forward to a good read.


----------



## Devin (Aug 18, 2012)

Most recent work:

http://gbatemp.net/review/48-sleeping-dogs-review

I have a few other review items coming in, so I'll be doing reviews for those as well:

X360Dock Module 2 (Had this for a while, but am lazy.)
X360 USB Pro v2

*bump*


----------



## Sterling (Aug 18, 2012)

Devin said:


> Most recent work:
> 
> http://gbatemp.net/review/48-sleeping-dogs-review
> 
> ...



Cool stuff, and the bump isn't necessary as we're stickied.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Aug 18, 2012)

Haven't posted here for some time...  This is a short poem of mine that was fairly well received on another poetry-related forum I visit.



Spoiler: The Quiet Man



*The Quiet Man*
A search for what was never lost
Forgotten,
Maybe…
But remaining
as still as a beating heart is
Pray for not long unnoticed
Or risk abating
to the sounds of lightning strikes
And the shadows they reveal
To the night

Simplicity in truest form
A few words?
More…
To skate the fine line
Between content
and satisfied
If not to elucidate warmth,
then why try?
Why let these words cavort and entice
when such little truth would suffice?


----------



## Sterling (Aug 18, 2012)

That's pretty good Old8oy. Also, a small plug for me. I've begun an RRP (Realistic Roleplay) for Skyrim. It's here. I think it's a good read, and I encourage every one of you who like to play these types of games to try it out.


----------



## Sterling (Oct 5, 2012)

Hey guys, I made a revision to my virtual world concept. I'll post it here and you guys let me know how it sounds to everyone.



Spoiler



It is the year 200 AV. 200 years after the Earth was completely destroyed and re-forged as a virtualized quantum network. AV stands for “After Virtualization”. Let me explain. About 250 years ago, the Earth was in incredible danger. It was a disaster that had been predicted time after time Armageddon! Calculations upon calculations were ran though supercomputers. Over and over again the machines predicted our inevitable doom. There was only about 60 years in which to prepare for death. The scientists of the world put their heads together for all mankind, refusing to accept their doom. They couldn’t stop the inevitable. At this point in time, Quantum Computing was in its prime. It was so well developed that even the average citizen had a pocket sized Quantum Computer. One scientist saw a potential solution. Convert the Earth into one giant Quantum Super Computer and connect every citizen to it via a video game. Once everyone was uploaded, blow up the Earth and scatter the resulting Quantum particles to every corner of the Universe. Any matter touched by the particles would automatically be joined with the Earth’s, thus creating a never ending world. The choice was clear after much deliberation; Chance our own destruction, or wait for it.

The plan was quickly started. About 20 years later, the videogame was released. It was quite literally an RPG of massive proportions and complexities. In the game was an exact copy of Earth, though it was not round like the Earth. The governments of the world issued everyone a game ID. Much like a social security number, it allowed you to upload yourself into the game. Another 20 years passed before the entire populace resided within the video game. The only ones left on Earth were a couple leaders of the world and a few leading scientists. It was their job to set the bomb and start the explosion timer. It was set for 10 years in the future, just a couple months before the impending doom arrived.

Its 200 years later and we are data entities, we never age beyond what we want, we never die, and we can continue to procreate indefinitely. It’s the dawn of another day and we’ve got all the time and space in the Universe to make the most of it.


Chapter 1: The New Frontier

The artificial sundown drew to its final conclusion. Soon darkness would engulf the landscape and the stars would come alight. These unexplored rolling hills were uninhabited with the exception of a single man. Appearing in his early twenties he carried a break down bow that was larger than his body, with arrows of bit structs and a light blade. His hair was the color of steel and his eyes a calming shade of blue. He was sitting patiently atop a stump watching the cycle end, deep in thought.

When the sun finally dropped past the horizon, a sight appeared that surpassed any beauty imaginable. Littered across the night sky were the heavenly bodies that man sought so much to fly among. Only back on Earth they were only mere twinkles in the night sky. Here, you could almost touch them. This is beyond anything anyone could ever imagine and Silver never got tired of looking. Lifting his right hand, Silver spoke a single word followed by a simple command, “Light! Come forth and illuminate!”

Streams of silvery light erupted from his fingertips and collected in his palm. The ball of intense light lite up everything as bright as day and allowed Silver to begin to set up camp.


----------



## Sterling (Oct 12, 2012)

So yeah, I made yet another revision to the above concept. I cannot for the life of me figure out how to freaking progress the story. :/ Anyway, I created a group on Facebook designed to share stuff my friends and I write with each other. I was wondering if you guys would like the same with the Guild?

Also, pardon the triple post.


----------



## MegaAce™ (Oct 29, 2012)

Application Incoming!

Name: MegaAce™
I'm mostly into writing short stories.
My first language was Russian (being born in Ukraine), now I fluently speak German, but my English is not that bad either. 
Let's say I'm kind of a daily lurker, I don't post that much.
I actually started writing about a month ago, grew quite fond of it, already finished about 3 stories. Been planning a longer, novel-like storie, but it ain't that easy. 
Here comes the story I wrote first, hope you don't mind the theme (it's nothing abysmally vicious, but I don't wanna spoil a thing.) Here goes:



Spoiler



*Jeff's Inferno*
The pub had already been closed, but he still stood behind the bar and washed up the dishes. It
was a tedious task to do, nonetheless he enjoyed it. By founding this pub, he also founded a
place where people gather around him, which seemed quite nice to him. He liked people being
around him. He did not want to be alone anymore.

Jeff finished washing up and swept the seats for items people may have forgotten. He walked
up to the entrance, scratching his scruffy beard, thinking of things *he* might have forgotten.
Jeff remembered, walked into the wardrobe and carried out his coat. It was already getting late.
He stepped outside and locked the door. It was freezing, so Jeff put on his coat. The big
"Neinman's" neon sign illuminated the street where Jeff stood now.

He decided on going for a walk through the district, which was never a good idea to do in the
nighttime, but Jeff didn't care.
It's not that he's careless, Jeff just knew he could defend himself. He already got into some
fights, fights he always won. He walked by the jeweler and took a glance at the rings. He liked
rings, he even wished to get married someday, he just couldn't find the right one. The thoughts
depressing him, he moved along.

Noise. Jeff stopped and looked around, but found nothing. He focused on the direction which
would lead to the source of the noise. He still couldn't make out where it came from, but he
started running into a dim alley.
Jeff didn't know for certain where he was heading, he just had a feeling he knew where the fuss
had to be.

A shady man was standing in front of a building, which seemed to be an old bank, the street
filled with shards of glass. Jeff arrived just in time to stop him.
“You better stop what you were plotting and I’ll leave you off the hook!” Jeff exclaimed without
caution. He didn’t know what he was up to, but he was confident in himself.
The person didn’t seem to care and continued breaking into the bank. Jeff sprinted and
grabbed him, turned him around and punched him in the face.
The burglar stumbled, tripped and fell to the ground. He tried to breathe, but his balaclava was
hindering him. Jeff ripped the mask off his face.
“I know your face. You are a regular at my pub,” Jeff remembered.
“Yeah, so Mr Neinman, what does that change?”, the burglar gasped.
He kicked Jeff’s knee, stood up, came to a halt. Jeff clutched his arm and struck an elbow his
side, which made him stumble again.

“Come on, Jeff, let’s reach a settlement, no? I need the money, I’m getting sick of this town, I
have to get out of here, there’s nothing interesting in here!” he shouted franticly. “Either you
share your fortune with me or I’ll have to rob this bank!”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun and moved near the entrance.
*Shit*, Jeff thought, but then he realised something.

“So, Jeff. Is it okay to call you Jeff? I think it would be. My name is John, by the way. Don’t do
anything stupid and I’ll let you live, I swear,” he said, still pointing the gun at Jeff. “Just let me
get some money and I’m gone.”
Jeff took a step forward.
“Don’t be silly, I’m pointing a gun at you, a *gun*, aren’t you even a bit intimidated?” John asked,
waving the gun around.
Jeff took another step.

A gunshot hit Jeff square on his forehead.



Jeff absorbed the bullet. He felt the heat the bullet contained. It was not a bullet made of lead. It
was made of magical flames. John was able to conjure magic. Jeff did not like sorcerers in _his_
town.

John couldn’t believe his eyes.
“What are you? That bullet should have killed you!” he shouted. He desperately fired another
shot and another, but in vain. Jeff absorbed every single one.
“Why John, why did you choose to come to a town filled with *normal* people? Do you want to
ruin my work? Is this what you want?”
Jeff grabbed John by his collar and rammed him into a wall. John looked at him, trembling in
fear.

“I know who you really are. You are *the* Jeff Neinman, or what did you call yourself back then,
the *Inferno*, am I right? So you’ve been hiding in a pitiful *mortal* town? What a joke you’ve
become,” John laughed.

Jeff couldn’t hold back his fury. John just made the worst mistake one could ever make when
talking to Jeff, he mentioned his past. Jeff head-butted John, and flames began streaming out
of Jeff’s body.
John couldn’t be saved. He enraged Jeff and he had asked for it. The Inferno wrapped itself
around John. John felt the heat, he was engulfed by the flames. He burned, leaving nothing, not
even ashes.

Jeff called the police and reported a breaking. He did the best he could, he tried to protect the
townspeople from what he despised. Magic. Something that is able to corrupt everyone and
everything. He experienced it himself in the past, but it is over now. Now he seeks redemption
for his deeds.

He returned to his pub, locked the door and went to bed, readying himself for the next day he
could enjoy with the townspeople.





The *bold* words indicate _cursive _text, spoilers make all text cursive, so no one would see the difference 
EDIT: Sorry can't figure out the spare spoiler tag.. meh.


----------



## Sterling (Oct 30, 2012)

Welcome Ace, it's a pleasure. We haven't had any new members in quite some time. I like you story by the way, it was interesting and the title matches very well.


----------



## Sterling (Nov 9, 2012)

Has anyone written in a while? If you have, I'd be interested in a good read. Also, between the two, which one does everyone think is better?



Spoiler: The Quantum Leap



Prologue 


It is the year 24XX. The Earth has been destroyed; its atoms scattered in all directions. The people of Earth now exist on a quantum level in a virtual world. We fled in the face of an apocalypse of grand proportions and risked it all to escape into this world; one of infinite possibilities, one we could potentially live forever in; to expand and build to our heart’s content. 


In the year 2195, a leading scientist in the field of quantum computing developed a massively multiplayer online video game titled: “Heroes by Birth”. It wasn’t your typical MMO either as it was meant to serve as a replacement for life on Earth (unbeknownst to us of course). As such, the total explorable space was the exact size of the Earth, with the freedom equal to and surpassing real life. It was astonishing to the entire world since something of this scale had never been attempted before. Even the control scheme was revolutionary. A helmet hooked onto a normal bed with the included scanners would de-atomize your physical body and virtualize it into the game world. It interfaced with your mind and eliminated the physical need for food, water and sleep.


At first people questioned the safety of the device. After all, how safe could it be to have your body and mind disassembled? However after hearing the experiences of the brave people who did use it, more and more people made the jump. Soon the game went free to play and scanners were provided free of charge; many more people joined in. In the year 2222, the governments of the world made the shocking doomsday announcement and revealed the video game to be their solution to the otherwise inevitable doom. They claimed that the Earth was now a giant quantum computer, and would soon be destroyed.


Widespread panic ensued as everyone was issued a login scanner by their respective governments. It soon became evident that this was the harsh truth since no one who logged into the game had come back recently. No one wanted to come back to “reality” since they could live how they wanted in the game. It became a replacement reality, just as real to the players as real life was to those on Earth. People scrambled to get into the game and within weeks, the Earth went silent.

Just one month after the Earth went quiet for good, a massive solar flare erupted from the sun all the way to Jupiter frying everything in its path. The Earth was now a rock that could no longer support life other than what it had stored inside of it. To ensure the continued survival of the human race, an explosive hidden in the moon was triggered by the solar flare. The impact activated a secondary explosive inside the moon that completely atomized the Earth and dispersed the particles in all directions. This way the Earth's computer Terrestria would be able to expand until the Universe's limits had been reached. With that, Humanity had been saved. We now live on in quantum space. forever watching, and forever living.

Chapter 1: The Chest, and an Old Friend

Exploration log 200, Year: 24XX, October – Silver

Today I discovered a high level mine. The primary mineral was Orichalcum, and there also seemed to be some Diamond and Ruby in the ore veins. A quick reference denoted that the asking price for this information was high. Some people were even offering complete weapons and enchantments for just the information to the location.

The reward for mapping the entire mine and area is also equally sought after. Bestiary and drop tables are about what is expected. Tomorrow I will begin the exploration and mapping procedures.

I’m especially surprised. This place isn’t even outside of the solar system.  This area was thought to be mapped in entirety over 100 years ago. I expect great things soon.
	End of log # 200

I snapped the E-journal shut and engaged the lock. “Whew!” I sighed. “I’m going to have my work cut out for me tomorrow. I’m a lazy guy, but this is just too much potential pay to pass up.”

The sky was tinted with an orange hue. It was reminiscent of the sunset on Earth. It’s been just over 200 years since I last saw the real sunset. The trade-off is worth it though, as the night sky is just beautiful out here. As I remembered the past, the watch on my wrist beeped, signaling the imminent sun down. Three minutes to go.

In a short time, the sun finally dipped past the horizon. The light faded into the west, and the night sky slowly took over from the east. Instead of just the small twinkling lights you saw on Earth, you could now see the celestial bodies in all their glory, sometimes you’re so close you could practically touch them. Just when I least expected it, a sudden harsh noise from my wrist watch brought me back down to Terrestria.

Snapping out of my stupor, I grabbed my bow and quiver of arrows from the nearby rock I’d set them on. Monsters were about! Suddenly a roar split the air and a four legged animal crested the hill. Distinctly feline, it resembled a lion, no; a quick glance told me it was a sabre cat. It seemed I was encroaching on their territory, and they decided I’d make an easy target.

I beat a quick retreat over the hill. My mind worked at top speed. Their weakness was a simple one that most savage animals possessed; the fear of fire. I quickly weaved a weak fire enchantment into the air with the tip of my finger. Then I slapped it onto the ground. That’s only half the spell, to complete it I drew three inscribable arrows from my quiver and drove them into the ground. It would take a minute for the fire magic to imbue the arrows, so I readied another spell weave. This time it was a weak physical ward.

Against this low tier mob, this rudimentary ward should last long enough. The first cat crested the hill. Then two others followed. Just then, the night cycle began completely. With little time to appreciate the scenery, the monsters attacked!

One, two, three! Flurries of quick attacks were one after another suppressed by the magical ward. Soon the cats exhausted themselves. Luckily they stopped the attack right before the ward reached its limit and forcefully deteriorated. A plume of smoke billowed from the arrows in the circle signaling that they were ready.

I pulled the first from the ground and nocked it into the bow. Pulling it back to its full draw, I took only a second to aim at the monster behind the others that was the leader. A second later, the shaft was sticking out from between its eyes and suddenly burst into flame. Instantly the monster was incinerated by the intense inferno and collapsed into a pile of charred bones and smoldering ashes. Surprised by the heat and light of the flames, the cats turned to look at their fallen leader. By the time the other two cats figured out what had happened, the other two arrows were sticking out of them as well. Soon they were reduced to the same state as their leader was; a pile of smoldering nothing.

A quick look at the remains revealed nothing of value. The flames had reduced the only valuable pieces they had to ashes. Oh well, their items wouldn't have been worth much anyway, though it’s kind of odd that such small time monsters would be near such a high level mine. After a short bout of speculation, I decided to put up my claim. I wouldn’t want a dispute to happen.

It took but a second to weave the complex magical sign in my palm that was my unique identifier. It was a longbow with a quiver leaning against a rock with a cave off to the left. In the bottom right of the picture, my initials were carved, “SS” otherwise known as, “Silva Shimmer”. I completed the ritual by ramming my palm into the rock face to the right of the cave entrance. A noticeable glimmering mark was left, completing the meaning of my last name. Rummaging in my pack, I pulled out a fresh torch.





Spoiler: Terrestria - Working Title



Chapter 1: Old Friends and New Mysteries

	The Sun hung low on the horizon. Evening was just hitting its stride and the hues of reds and yellows fit perfectly over the grassy plains of Holtheim. Near the edge of the plains to the south the craggy wastes of the Narrows lay. That is the destination of Silver whom we find at the foot of the only tree in leagues practicing his marksmanship.

	Thunk! The dull thud of an arrow into wood punctuated the otherwise silent plains. Four other shafts lay deep in the wood, each one of them within the center of a crudely drawn target in white paint. A fifth shaft stood at ready on the string of a bow that was as large as Silver himself. Bent into a crescent that could rival the waning moon, the energy of the bow was expended all at once. The shaft stood in the center of the four other arrows, completing the pattern of the fifth side of a die. 

	With large strides, Silver strode up to the tree with quickness not unlike that of a world class athlete. With deft movements, he plucked the shafts from the tree. Each of them buried at least halfway up the shaft. Briefly looking them over for damage he slid each of them back into their proper compartment in his quiver. Broadheads, quilltips and his special drill tips were each held in their own separate area of the quiver. The arrows he replaced were quilltips. They are meant for hunting small game and precision shooting. The broadheads are a much weightier arrow meant for large game and other violence. The drillheads are meant for affixing lengths of line to different surfaces. Utilizing grooves on the sides, the arrow is spun like a bullet through the rifled barrel of a gun.

	Flexing his muscles, Silver slung the bow over his shoulder and began walking in the direction of the Narrows. The location of a mysterious mine there had been entailed in a diary of a long deceased prospector who had died of a then common disease in his care. That was about 200 years ago, before healing magic had made the proper advancements. Such musings only briefly crossed his mind as the Sun finally dipped past the horizon and the deep red slowly gave way to the night sky.

	Almost directly over Silver’s head, the huge gas giant Jupiter loomed. It was a rare sight that never ceased to amaze him. He briefly recalled looking at the giant through the small lens of a rudimentary telescope back on Earth. It has since then gained much more grandeur. Suddenly an unpleasant sound reached his ears. Distinctly feline it sounded like a tiger. The loud rustles in the nearby grass confirmed the animals were rather large.

	Silver stopped; his keen ears taking in every noise. There were three in total; two were closing in rapidly and the third was keeping its distance. That one was probably the leader of the pack. Thinking quickly, he grabbed two broadhead arrows from the quiver and searched the nearby area for the driest grass he could find, his mind racing at top speed. “Almost every wild beast share the same fear of fire, so I’ll use it to my advantage!” He thought.

	Finding what he wanted, he made a couple basic torches with the arrows, and broke out into a sprint towards the Narrows, the pack at his side banged into him on every step. He had to make the crags otherwise he’d be fresh meat. Pulling his magical lighter from his pocket, he put the flame to the first torch. By his estimations, he’d have 3 minutes of light each before the fuel was exhausted, only briefly berating himself for not grabbing some green tender to extend the torch’s life. Those thoughts went up in the torch’s vivid smoky blaze.

	He had almost gone half a mile before the topsoil of the plains gave way to the hard rocky soil of the Narrows. Soon less and less grass populated the edges of the torch light and the ground sloped up and up. The frantic roars of his feline pursuers gradually fade into the calm of night and the light of the first torch grew feeble and thin. Silver’s estimations were off by about a minute. The torch lasted for four.

	Now that his pursuers were long gone; off to find easier prey. Silver began his ascent by the light of the half moon. The treacherous twists and turns of the Narrows soon proved too much for travel by the faint light. So his magical lighter was yet again put to good use. The open flame served as a decent light source for the slow travel. The last torch would be better used if saved for emergencies.

	Carefully picking his way across the rocky maze, he came to a large natural opening. Scratched next to it was an ominous skull and crossbones symbol that indicated danger. It looked to be what he was looking for. Silver pulled a battered hard covered diary from the small pack at his side. The crude drawing in the earliest pages confirmed his suspicions.

	Ever the cautious one, he decided to wait until dawn to head back to Holtheim for more torch material. The dangers of the cave were very real and rumored to be deadly. Despite the fact that he has lived for over 250 years, Silver is incredibly attached to his life which could still be suddenly taken from him.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Nov 22, 2012)

Hey guys... Erm, been a while, huh? Our internet... well, I don't even want to think about our internet. Basically, it's gone. I'm using a USB thingy right now, so limited time/connectivity...

But enough about that...

I decided not to do NaNoWriMo this year. Too much to do, plus without reliable internet, I can't research as freely as I want to. Urgh. Overall, my writing's ground to a halt for the nonce.

PS

Since this is such a downer post...

Happy Thanksgiving to y'all.


----------



## Sterling (Nov 22, 2012)

Shinigami357 said:


> Hey guys... Erm, been a while, huh? Our internet... well, I don't even want to think about our internet. Basically, it's gone. I'm using a USB thingy right now, so limited time/connectivity...
> 
> But enough about that...
> 
> ...


Holy crap. I thought you were dead. Glad to see you're still here. I didn't even know what a NaNoWriMo is, nor do I fully grasp it now. How's your novel doing?


----------



## Shinigami357 (Nov 22, 2012)

Sterling said:


> Holy crap. I thought you were dead. Glad to see you're still here. I didn't even know what a NaNoWriMo is, nor do I fully grasp it now. How's your novel doing?


 
A Shinigami can't just up and die, don't worry. :

NaNoWriMo is a writing challenge, every November. Basically 50k words = 30 days. It's [kind of] torturous, though...

As for my novel... Well, I'm still kicking around some concepts for the 2nd draft which I'm about to rewrite, by the looks of things. I mentioned a while back that it kind of felt clipped and whatnot. Also, I'm expanding the narrative, and trying to figure out how to fit all the additions/edits in with the existing story without retconning everything [erm, just search "retcon" in tvtropes or something] is hellish. It's... quite confusing really.

On the flipside, I'm having quite a number of ideas for my other stories.

PS

After I'm done with breakfast, I'll read the stuff that's been posted since I left. Cheers, guys.


----------



## Sterling (Nov 22, 2012)

Shinigami357 said:


> A Shinigami can't just up and die, don't worry. :
> 
> NaNoWriMo is a writing challenge, every November. Basically 50k words = 30 days. It's [kind of] torturous, though...
> 
> ...


Cool stuff, check out my FictionPress in my Sig for what I have. I haven't posted it here in a while. >.>


----------



## Sterling (Dec 3, 2012)

Okay guys, I finally have a proper plot in mind for my story. Let me run this by everyone and see what you guys think.

The story starts out with Silver and slowly introduces the characters. It's 200 years after Earth was hit. Many players have settled down and began to have families. Several problems arose from this. One huge problem were the fact that unlike their parents, the children aged. They were dubbed Terrestrians.

The first quest of our heroes is to figure out why a man (Zaos Twain) who died was able to come back. At one point they finally meet Zaos Twain (who took Wilde as his last name later). They come to figure out, Zaos is actually the living conduit that the Terrestria creator (basically the server admin) communicates through. 

About halfway through the story, they actually meet the Creator. He tells our heroes that there is some trouble going on in Terrestria. There is a religious cult that is gaining power slowly. The entire point of the cult is to convince players that they need to die. That their very existence is an abomination. After a short Q&A session the creator refuses to tell them any more.

Now they have a problem. The heroes don't know when or where the cult will strike first. So they decide to work together to gather resources and establish their own guild to help raise awareness.

Now we begin part two. It involves a time skip of 75 years. The guild itself has broken up. Everyone became tired of looking out for the threat that never came. The few characters who kept in contact continued to train themselves because they never stopped waiting for the threat.

Before too long, the cult finally begins their crusade and they have indoctrinated many of the Terrestrians to fight against the humans and a gigantic war breaks out. The story ends when the heroes stop the uprising. At the end I plan to hint at the beginning of the next book while still giving the first a concrete ending.

Silver and his wife April visit the creator again. He reveals that Terrestria was not the only MMO that used his control scheme. There are 4 other servers in Jupiter's orbit. There's Luna, Celeste, Okeanos, and Caelum. Luna is a futuristic survival horror server. If you need an example, think Dead Space. Celeste is another futuristic server like Eve Online or Mass Effect. Both Okeonos and Caelum are pure fantasy while Terrestria is a mix of fantasy and science.

The kicker is that every server can potentially communicate with each other. Both Luna and Celeste allowed cross server travel after the Earth was destroyed. Now, the monsters and other stuff of Luna has traveled to Celeste and turned the servers into living hell. Since the server populations are dwindling, both Luna and Celeste are trying to invade Terrestria to try and repopulate. The creator knew what kind of problems the cross server visitation presented and closed off the communications when the other games were launched. This was all before the apocalypse.

Well, the 'gods' of Celeste and Luna got together and successfully breached Terrestria. Now it's a full on war and a fight to keep the hellish monsters and hardened warriors of the two servers at bay. Can our heroes close off the portal to hell?


----------



## MegaAce™ (Dec 3, 2012)

Well, Sterling, that is one hell of a plot! I like it very much.
I also like the concept (dealing with a MMO) of your story, because I started watching Sword Art Online not a long time ago,
and I think there are almost no good stories dealing with Virtual Reality.

Hope you'll make your plan come true!


----------



## Sterling (Dec 3, 2012)

MegaAce™ said:


> Well, Sterling, that is one hell of a plot! I like it very much.
> I also like the concept (dealing with a MMO) of your story, because I started watching Sword Art Online not a long time ago,
> and I think there are almost no good stories dealing with Virtual Reality.
> 
> Hope you'll make your plan come true!


Thanks man. I take a lot of inspirations from things like the matrix, SAO, and Code Lyoko. Code Lyoko was actually where the Idea stemmed from. In that series, your body and mind was actually transferred to cyberspace.

Since I posted the plot, I've done a lot more thinking. I figured that I'd do a spin off story after I finish with the first two books. This one will tell the tragedy Luna and Celeste. In fact, only a single person makes it out alive to Terrestria (where the war between servers is going on). All his friends and even his girlfriend is killed. The only reason he isn't completely broken is because he's been desensitized by all the senseless violence of the Luna server.


EDIT: BUT, I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to take things on step at a time. I need to get the first book finished first before I do anything else. xD


----------



## MegaAce™ (Dec 3, 2012)

Sterling said:


> Thanks man. I take a lot of inspirations from things like the matrix, SAO, and Code Lyoko. Code Lyoko was actually where the Idea stemmed from. In that series, your body and mind was actually transferred to cyberspace.
> 
> Since I posted the plot, I've done a lot more thinking. I figured that I'd do a spin off story after I finish with the first two books. This one will tell the tragedy Luna and Celeste. In fact, only a single person makes it out alive to Terrestria (where the war between servers is going on). All his friends and even his girlfriend is killed. The only reason he isn't completely broken is because he's been desensitized by all the senseless violence of the Luna server.
> 
> ...


 
Yeah, I know that feeling. I also tend to rush myself into thinking about many plotpoints for my story, but not arranging them into a whole piece.
That's what happens when you have a fountain of creativity inside your brains.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 3, 2012)

@Sterlling - Hm... A VR-based apocalypse/end of the world story eh? Interesting. I'm not exactly into VR though [I skipped through The Matrix, go figure] but I guess it's probably the best way to show an 'unrealistic' world and stuff. I'd love to get a chance to read it. The whole "your existence is a lie" [no memes intended] angle seems cool.

---

I just remembered, I finished a more-or-less decent-sized short story during my net-less months of solitude. So, um, I'm not really one for short fiction/literature, because I like to see ideas fleshed out, but I think this one turned out mostly ok. Word puts it at 8k words [kind of short, yeah, i know] and change, and is my first real 'sort of 'romantic'' story, I guess [well, the romance elements were kind of central to the narrative anyways].

So, uh... If any of you guys want to take a couple moments to read it and maybe give me feedback, just pm me or something; I think the online storage site I uploaded it up to has a download thingy, so I can just give out links or something [I am not sure how attachments work here, lolz]. Also, uh, if anyone wants to read the first draft of my 'novel', and maybe give me feedback [translation: kill off some precious brain cells], please do tell me, coz I think I'll get to that 2nd draft reboot some time soon and any feedback I get will be most helpful.


----------



## Sterling (Dec 3, 2012)

Sure thing. Send it over here, and I'll give it a read.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 4, 2012)

Ok, if you say so... Thanks.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 6, 2012)

O Great Leader, hast thou received thine link?

LOL, wahahaha! Man, I swear I'll master how to write/speak like that. Sheakespeare would be a start, I think...

Not to appear impatient or anything, just that the link only lasts a couple days or so.


----------



## Sterling (Dec 6, 2012)

Shinigami357 said:


> O Great Leader, hast thou received thine link?
> 
> LOL, wahahaha! Man, I swear I'll master how to write/speak like that. Sheakespeare would be a start, I think...
> 
> Not to appear impatient or anything, just that the link only lasts a couple days or so.


Yeah, I got them. I'm going over the short with a fine toothed comb at the moment. Do you mind if I proof read it as well?


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 7, 2012)

Yep, that'd be cool. Thanks. [starts to proofread it himself out of anxiety]

EDIT: Actually found one... Oh, the shame...


----------



## Sterling (Dec 7, 2012)

Shinigami357 said:


> Yep, that'd be cool. Thanks. [starts to proofread it himself out of anxiety]
> 
> EDIT: Actually found one... Oh, the shame...


Wow, I really liked that short. It actually managed to make me cry when the funeral came up, and that's something I've yet to do. Props. If you want me to send you the link to my story I can. 

Now to start on Corax. I'm hyped after reading that short.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 7, 2012)

Sterling said:


> Wow, I really liked that short. It actually managed to make me cry when the funeral came up, and that's something I've yet to do. Props. If you want me to send you the link to my story I can.
> 
> Now to start on Corax. I'm hyped after reading that short.


 
Um... Thanks.

Yeah, I'd love that link. Just, uh... send it within a day and a half or so, since my net time's limited.

PS Well, I hope you don't get too disappointed with Ccorax. I consider the latter half to be better, but still with the awful pacing and formatting [which is why I'm rewriting it]. Urgh.

Again, thanks.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 9, 2012)

Well, no internet for a day or so [prob more]. So, uh, if anyone [for whatever reason] still wants those links, just ask Sterling for them [they're active until the 17th, though I'm not sure if that's on GMT or GMT+ 8 or whatever].

I'll be back [and hopefully, with a few updates on my hiatus'd writing.

Cheers, guys!


----------



## KingdomBlade (Dec 14, 2012)

Here's a poem I wrote during Science? (or maybe Math) class. Probably the darkest thing I've ever written.

_*WOMAN ON CRACK*_

Woman on crack
Sleeps in a sack
Pipe on her feet
Son on the street
Fucked by the crack
Raped in the back
Face gotten beat
Died on the street


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 19, 2012)

20th here... So, if I get to post again here at this time tomorrow, the world's still ticking.

Anyways...

@KingdomBlade - Um... I don't even know what to say. So I won't say anything...

[wow, that was constructive]

So, my writing's going... slowly. But, since I've decided to just edit draft 2 than rewrite it, the only [ever-so-slightly-problematic] thing is figuring out how to fit the edits in. Also, I'm planning to write another short story or two [a sequel to 'eventuality' would be one, I guess]. I hope my short-fiction allergy doesn't start up, wahahaha.

PS

Sterling's posted his story here... Hm... Cool! GL HF on that.


----------



## Sterling (Dec 19, 2012)

@Kingdom Blade: BTW, I liked your poem. It's dark and a good change of pace from the usual stuff I read. Now writing chapter 12, and I'm going to edit my other chapters a bit.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 27, 2012)

Hey, guys. So it seems the Mayans were either wrong, presumptuous or misinterpreted. That's cool, because it's usually us [particularly this generation] who are either wrong, presumptuous or misinterpreted. Let someone else take the blame, huh? 

So, anyway, since all I really got out of the holidays is the flu [I think I got one too this time last year... urgh]... I'm bored [big surprise there].

Stuff below about a story idea I just had...




Spoiler: stuff



To that end, I've kind of started up a fantasy novel. I did mention being intrigued by the genre and wanting to give it a good old try, so I did. Basically, I want to write a story that is all magic [i.e. no weapons, dragons, elves, dwarves or any other fantasy staple other than magic... and a friggin' big kingdom, because it's cooler like that]. Furthermore, I had this idea that "traditional" magic [i.e. waving a stick/wand/wiggling your fingers and saying magicky words] is kind of worn out, and I'd rather make magic more of a skill or technique with particular advantages and drawbacks and such, as well as allowing certain [powerful] characters the ability/audacity to "invent" better techniques within their particular specialties [or schools of magic].

Think about it this way... In most fantasy stories, knights [warriors, swordsmen, whatever the heck they're called] are trained for combat. So, the same way a knight is taught how to swing a sword without leaving himself too open, or how to parry or use their shield for anything other than defense as well as finding the weak spots in the enemy's armor, the characters also learn magic this way. Also, the same way most characters are right-handed and as such, cannot wield a weapon properly with their left hand, magic is also limited or enhanced by what a particular character is/isn't capable of.

So basically, within the story, every character is capable of magic. Some of them are just better versed at it, either naturally or through training. This does mean [naturally] that certain laws are enforced by the kingdom, specifically by the 'high mages/sages' [the working term is 'magiciar'] who control what is basically the kingdom's magical armies. That means [again, naturally] that breaking these laws [especially the really grave ones] gets you a magic-laden death sentence.

The focus of the story is how these laws get twisted around, especially considering the three forbidden schools of magic [namely blood magic, soul magic and shadow magic]. The working title [black, grey, crimson] is a slight allusion to that.


 
So, yeah, that's that. Any and all feedback would be cool. Also, since the prologue is finished [I have a weakness for those, especially in early drafts], I will prob post it here sometime later. I think [for a change] it's Temp-friendly enough [the body count is only a couple dream sheep and an old man... oh and a bloodmage who got impaled one time too many, but is still alive(there is a reason the school of magic is known as "blood" magic)]

As always, how're y'all? Holidays treat you well? [anyone who had a worse holiday than I must be really down on their luck]


PS

@Sterling - I see you have a ff.net page/profile. Actually, I do too, though it's mostly to get alerts, although I am toying around with the idea of starting a story. If I do go on with it, I'll prob file it under 'fun' writing [which IS kind of the point, wahahaha].

Also, if it's alright with you, could I ask you for feedback on my draft, especially with my 'perceived' problems with it [I do know that what a writer thinks is a problem is different from what a reader thinks is a problem]? I don't really have anyone else to ask, wahahahahahaha. I'll just PM you or something if you're fine with it.

One last thing... did chapter 12 get preempted by the holidays? Or did I just miss it?


----------



## Sterling (Dec 27, 2012)

Sure, send it my way and I'll hand you some feedback after a spot of sleep (my naps tend to turn into sleep deprived comas so yeah). Also, Chapter 12 should be up. Maybe I haven't updated my pastebin, but I really haven't been writing much. I got the flu, then I got a cold, and hopefully this shit doesn't turn into pneumonia or strep, that'll really piss me off. :/

Also, I like the idea. You should go read or watch Fairy Tale for a few ideas on what you should and shouldn't do.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Dec 28, 2012)

Here's the 5-part prologue. Slightly edited, but it's basically the same from when I first wrote it. The only thing I regret is not being able to insert a "silence of the lambs" joke in the dream sequence.



Spoiler: prologue 'black, grey, crimson'



Chapter 0.1 [Prologue]

 “Aooooooooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuu!” the wolf howls. He sees its eyes shining somewhere just ahead of them. Around him, the sheep start to bleat. They knew what that howl meant.
 The eyes vanished, and he looked around, nervous; the leader had slinked off, he knew, to a more opportune position. Just then, the wind blew across them, and the sheep‘s bleating worsened. The wind had carried the scent of another wolf, hidden, waiting. He could not smell it, but the sheep could, and they were starting to fray at the edges; already, some outcasts - generally the weaker - were being pushed away by the majority.
 The attack was sudden. A pair of wolves ran right at them and split up, circling the group. The stragglers who had been pushed out turned and ran… right into waiting ambushes. He watched, hapless, as one of them was torn limb from limb by three wolves. Meanwhile, the two wolves continued to circle the group, darting in every now and then to take a swipe at the terrified sheep at the outside of the group.
 As one of the circling wolves dove in, the sheep shrank away; one of them, already bloody after having taken some earlier attacks from the wolves’ sharp claws, lagged behind slightly. The wolf that was darting in snatched at the sheep’s leg, bringing it down right by the others, and gave a short bark; the other circling wolf bound to his side at once, and the two started to gut the stricken animal.
 A trio of sheep at the opposite side took the opportunity as the wolves were preoccupied and shot off into the opposite direction. For a moment, it seemed as though all three, or even just some of them might be able to get away, but out from the shadows, a large grey blur shot out at them. It collided with the sheep in the middle, knocking the sheep sideways. The one just behind flinched back on instinct, allowing the other wolves that had been pursuing them a precious second to further catch up.
 With two would-be escapees down and soon surrounded, the sheep that had been ahead bounded off. They grey wolf - the pack leader, he had no doubt - chased it down, its grey fur shining as it bristled in the pale starlight. The wolf zigged and zagged, and skipped across jutting rocks, howling all the while.
 The escaped, panic-stricken sheep was losing speed, as fatigue and stress dragged it down. The wolf, seeing its opportunity, hopped up on a rocky outcropping and leapt at it. Glinting teeth and claws and grey fur collided with white wool, and not a second later, a blood-chilling mixture of the wolf’s triumphant howl and the sheep’s distressed bleating rend through the night air.
 The large grey wolf dragged the continually-bleating sheep back toward the rest of the pack; two wolves went out to meet it, and the grey wolf left the job of dragging the still-living sheep back to them as it strode back toward the rest of the pack.
 By then, all the others - eight, not counting the two that were busy dragging the sheep back and the leader - had surrounded the group. The leader stopped a few feet short of the group and started to sniff at the air, as though savoring the scent of fear. He knew the pack had enough to feed on; they weren’t hunting any more, now they were just killing.
 The two wolves had finished dragging the sheep back - by then, its cries were weak and strangled - and took their positions in the circled that surrounded the group. The leader, snout still dripping red with blood, gave one short, final howl, and as one, the pack pounced.
 It was hell. Some of the sheep raced out, getting lucky. He thought some of them would get away alive, but soon would be lost, alone; easy prey for other wolves and predators that stalked the night. More were mortally wounded or killed at once. Some unlucky sheep were squashed and trampled in the confusion.
 As the slaughter happened around him, he found himself strangely calm. The pack leader - whose fur was now matted crimson - looked at him, its shining green eyes seeming to size him up.

Chapter 0.2 [Prologue]

 “Wake up!” the voice echoed around the stone chamber. Allius opened his eyes, his dreams - blood, carnage, howls - fading as he looked up at his ‘visitor’. The man - and they always were men - wore a thin, bronze chain tight around his neck, looking down at him with an odd expression of fear. The man held a torch high above his head, the green flames casting its bright light around the small chamber; the shadows it made were red, and thus were of no use to Allius.
 “Is it today?” he asked the man. It was odd, he thought; surely they’d never let him out into the sunlight? Furthermore, he was being fetched by a ‘bronze chain’, all alone, whereas there were usually two ‘silver chains’. Something had happened.
 “Get up, the grand sage wants you,” the bronze chain said. Allius struggled to his feet, burdened by the all-too-short chains that bound his wrists and ankles. He blinked at the brightness of the flame; the stone chamber was underground, and permitted no light at all to enter once the door was shut, and he had been in total darkness going two months now. The great sage had sent him there, awaiting execution.
 “What’s going on?” Allius asked the bronze chain, who was walking behind him - telling him which direction to go when needed - as they made their way up. The bronze chain said nothing.
 Soon, both of them were above ground, Curtains covered the windows, though stray shafts of light still found their way in; whenever one of them would hit Allius, he could feel a little of his strength coming back. Again he wondered, where was he set to meet the grand sage, and more importantly, why?
 “Turn right and head out through that door,” the bronze chain ordered him. Allius did, and no more than four steps later, noticed that there weren’t any footfalls behind him any longer. He went on, alone, anyway.


Chapter 0.3 [Prologue]

 Allius extended his hands out ahead of him, feeling the smooth wood against his palms for a moment before he pushed the door open. Sunlight, bright, blinding sunlight bathed him as soon as the door swung open. A glance over his shoulder showed him the comforting sight of his shadow, a stark black silhouette against the white marble floor. His strength flooded back in a hurry, and with more conviction, he stepped out.
 There were two men in the courtyard. One wore flowing white robes, a thin, golden chain with a diamond dangling from it taut around his neck. The other wore robes of crimson, a ruby dangling from his golden chain.
 “Allius Schwartz,” the man in the crimson robes whispered.
 “Yes.”
 The man in crimson robes looked at the much older man in white, whose face had gone as white as his robes at the sight of Allius. “You…” the man in white robes whispered.
 Allius looked at the man who had sentenced him. Without a word, he extended his arms out ahead of him. The shadow of the chain that shackled his hands together stood out on the ground before him. It wavered and snapped, the shadow separating into two; above it, the real chains snapped much like the shadow had. Lower down, the same thing happened to the chain that kept his feet shackled.
 “This was a mistake,” the man in white robes said. “Call the gold chains at once,” he urged the crimson-robed man beside him.
 “We’re just letting him out for a little sunlight,” the man in the crimson robes replied. He turned to Allius. “So, this is the much-vaunted ‘shadow binder’…” Allius saw that the man’s eyes were the same unsettling green as the wolf in his dream.
 “Why am I here?” Allius asked, directing the question at the one in the crimson robes. He stepped further out into the sunlight, feeling his shadow - and himself - strengthening.
 “His royal highness’ orders,” the man in the crimson robes answered. “He has… recently had a change of mind regarding… certain policies.”
 At those words, the man in the white robes flinched, eyeing his crimson-clad companion wearily. “The king owes you his life, Sirvu, but you do not understand what you are about to unleash,” he said.
 “On the contrary, I understand entirely what I’m doing, Keisen,” Sirvu said. He brought his hand up to his mouth and bit into the ball of his thumb with a pair of inhumanly sharp incisors. He dabbed the swelling droplet of blood onto his other fingers.
 Allius’ eyes widened with realization. Sirvu, without doubt, was a blood mage. Behind him, his shadow started to billow, and it crept up from to ground to surround him, taking the form of a long, hooded robe. The protection it would provide was meager, but was better than nothing, considering how weak he was at the moment.
 Keisen, on the other hand, seemed less perturbed by Sirvu. When he saw Allius gearing for battle, he thrust his arms out to the side, his face set. The diamond dangling from the golden chain around his neck shone out with a bright, blinding light.
 Allious shielded his eyes from the light. His shadow robe started to melt away, helpless against the enchanted light that cast no shadow of its own. It had been the same light that had led to his capture, months ago. He could feel his strength start to ebb away, as his shadows were denied to him. At the edge of his vision, Sirvu started to move.


Chapter 0.4 [Prologue]

 Allius inched back, too weak to fight, and outnumbered in the bargain. Soon, he would be completely defenseless, unable to turn to the other side for help in his condition, and by the looks of it, about to die at the hands of a blood mage.
 Just as suddenly as the light started, it shut off. As his robe struggled to reform, Allius’ vision readjusted. Keisen was standing there, his arms hanging limply at his sides; the old man was dead.
 “I must congratulate you, shadow binder… you’ve just killed the grand sage,” remarked Sirvu. Before him, the lifeless body fell down. There were five fading red spots on the back of the dead grand sage’s robe.
 “You… you killed him,” Allius said. “Your plan is to pin this on me.”
 Sirvu smiled. “As a grand mage, I am duty-bound to, ah, bring you to justice. Allow me to thank you for your cooperation.”
 Allius skipped back as Sirvu lunged at him, bloody fingertips extended. He knew what would become of him if the blood mage so much as laid a finger on him. Sirvu pressed on, well-aware of his advantage. Allius stumbled away from another attack, but his legs, unused to so much movement after getting atrophied for months, chose that same moment to seize up. He managed to stay on his feet, but could move no more; even his upper body was locked as moving then would only upset his barely-there balance.
 “Got you,” Sirvu said, mocking. His hand thrust at at Allius’ chest. His fingertips made contact with the shadowy folds of the conjured robe… and stopped there, as though hitting a barrier. “What..?”
 “Shadows don’t bleed,” Allius informed the blood mage.
 Sirvu drew his hand back, but he was too late; Allius had seen his opening. The rest of the shadow robe reformed, jutting out as spikes, impaling the blood mage multiple times.
 “Sound the alarm!” a voice behind Allius shouted. As ordered, the alarm rang out not a moment later, and he knew that the gold chains would be on their way.
 “You just dug yourself in deeper, shadow binder,” Sirvu said, smiling. He seemed totally unperturbed by the fact that he was basically stuck where he stood, skewered more times than he could count. “Do you think they’ll believe anything you tell them?”
 Allius knew he’d been had. Whether he survived Sirvu’s attack or not was immaterial; either way, he looked the guilty party here. He didn’t have the time or the strength to ward off both this deranged blood mage and the gold chains.
 “Damn you,” Allius said. He retracted the spikes and turned to run as Sirvu slumped down to the ground.


Chapter 0.5 [Prologue]

 “Did you hear? The king’s ailment was treated recently.”
 “They say a blood mage did it.”
 “Yeah, that’s what I heard, too. Talk is, the king redacted the ban on blood magic and made him a great mage in thanks.”
 “Well, some people are still apprehensive on allowing the practice of blood magic.”
 “Who can blame them?”
 “Hey! Stop talking like that! That’s treason, and you know it.”
 “Well, this is the first time we’ve ever had more than one magiciar.”
 “Actually, my sister was seeing one of the silver chains and talk is great sage Keisen is dead, while great mage Sirvu was wounded when a fugitive escaped.”
 “What a load of rubbish! Looks like that silver chain’s yanking your sister’s chain!” People laughed, and the voice continued. “Anyway, what fugitive can take down both of them?”
 “That boy, remember him; the shadow binder?”
 There were gasps. “That can’t be true. Didn’t great sage Keisen sentence him to be executed? How did he escape, and why weren’t we warned?”
 “Well, some details are unclear, but have you noticed more and more gold chains are out patrolling the streets? I tell you, he’s escaped and they’re trying to catch him.”
 “Scary isn’t it?”
 “Yeah... Let me tell you, I was there when they caught that shadow binder, and he took down a dozen gold chains like it was nothing.
 “Twelve gold chains in one go? Whoa, I guess there’s a reason shadow magic is forbidden. You don’t think he’s still around, do you?”
 “No, I don’t think so. He must be hurting real bad, and this time, fire mages are specifically hunting him down.”
 “Ah, yes, I’d heard that the simplest way to counter shadow magic is to use flame magic. That’s a smart move.”
 “Yes, Sirvu was the one who suggested it, even though he’s supposedly hurt bad.”
 “Well, I hope they catch him and make him pay for what he did to the grand sage.”
 “Oh, they will. Especially when the grand mage gets back; I heard he wasn’t happy that the gold chains even let the shadow binder escape in the first place.”

 The townspeople continued on in the same vein for the next few minutes, but Allius had heard as much as he needed to hear. He had to get out of here. Being free - albeit a hunted fugitive - allowed him time to rest and recuperate his strength, but even then, his magic was currently nowhere near as powerful as it had been before he was captured and locked in perpetual darkness for months, sapping his powers away in the process.
 He had to get out, and soon. If fire mages really were hunting him - and knowing what he did of Sirvu, they probably were - he could not be found, though normally they would have been nothing more than a nuisance.
 Get out, recuperate, find out what he can of Sirvu, and come back to finish off the bloody bastard. That was the plan.


 
So... notes



Spoiler: notes



- The difference bet. mage and sage is basically age and experience [a sage is older and more experienced at magic]
- A 'binder' is the term for someone who has more or less mastered their school of magic, implying that he [more on this later] is bound to the magic.
- Technically, there is nothing wrong with the three forbidden schools of magic; they just have an overwhelming negative connotation.
- Only males are allowed to practice magic, although females are capable of magic too. Allius notes that 'they' are always males.
- In case anyone is wondering how Sirvu's plan worked without raising any eyebrows, it goes like this. Blood magic works only on 'things that bleed/bled'. Keisen's robes are wool, which offers little resistance, making an easy kill. Sirvu's good enough [basically, he's a blood binder] not to leave any traces. It kind of corresponds to the dream sequence at the beginning. Of course, part of its success is how ignorantly terrified people are of the forbidden magics[some people don't even trust him], which is how he can just point the blame at Allius.
- Part of the interplay here is how little each mage knows about the other mage's magic; Allius basically got lucky, while Sirvu obviously did not know how shadow magic works and interacts with blood magic.
- I just made up these names, but in particular, Sirvu is anagram for 'virus', and Allius' last name, Schwartz, is based on schwarz, German for 'black'.
- No, I haven't decided what Keisen's magic specialty is. He does know enough high-level magic to catch Allius, though. Too bad he didn't have a 'grow an eye at the back of your head' magic.
- So far, the references for Allius' shadow magic are Yu Yu Hakusho [there's a guy there who can stop you by stepping on your shadow; he once wrote a name using just his shadow, too], Fullmetal Alchemist [Pride, obviously; Allius' weakness when there is no light is based off of his weakness], Naruto [Shikamaru in particular] and One Piece [Gecko Moria; the chain-breaking is based on the 'what happens to the shadow happens to the body' mechanic]. I'm still researching and thinking up how/where to take it, really. Suggestions are welcome.
- As referenced by the title, only black shadows are usable for shadow magic. Pretty sure blood mages don't give a crap about things that have blood that isn't red.
- Allius' reference to 'the other side' is about the 'shadow plane', where the strongest shadow magics are. There's also a 'soul plane', but no 'blood plane' [well, you can make a case that the 'mortal plane' is one big 'blood plane']
- I'm pretty sure I know a character whose cloak/robes is made of shadows, but I've forgotten... Hm...
- Allius was given the death sentence pretty much for practicing shadow magic. The execution was delayed because the king got ill and the grand sage had to find a way to heal him [which is how Sirvu got into their good side].
- In-universe, there is exactly one shadow binder, one blood binder and one soul binder. Basically, only really good mages/sages get to that level of forbidden magic without proper training [and without getting caught... where Allius slipped up]. All of them are 'chaotic neutral' in alignment, more or less.


 
Um, that's a lot of notes. Tell me what you guys think. Thanks, and cheers!

@Sterling

Yeah, I know what you mean about sleep. I'm basically stuck with a choice of blink or hibernate. I'll get to that PM soon.


PS

Hopefully the formatting's ok...


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 2, 2013)

So, um... Seeing as it's been nearly a week since my last post, hopefully the mods will excuse me for double-posting, seeing as nobody's posted in between, hehehe.

So, uh, finished chapter 1 of B,G,C. It's still divided into 5 parts, but two of those are further divided into three parts [where the second is a flashback, featuring Allius' gramps and a spot of magical trapping]. Also, more action in this chapter, featuring a shadow binder against gold chain-level fire, water and blood mages, a freaking wide river, a long wooden bridge and sunlight that doesn't seem to want to cooperate [with Allius, anyway, in case you were cheering for the 'bad' guys]. I'll unfocus, refocus, edit, then prob post it here later on, hehehehe.

Anyway... how is everyone else? Been reading a lot of stuff mostly [a lot of fanfic, yes; it's fascinating how people can relate comic book characters using just words]. Happy 2013, to everyone, btw...


----------



## Sterling (Jan 2, 2013)

Shinigami357 said:


> So, um... Seeing as it's been nearly a week since my last post, hopefully the mods will excuse me for double-posting, seeing as nobody's posted in between, hehehe.
> 
> So, uh, finished chapter 1 of B,G,C. It's still divided into 5 parts, but two of those are further divided into three parts [where the second is a flashback, featuring Allius' gramps and a spot of magical trapping]. Also, more action in this chapter, featuring a shadow binder against gold chain-level fire, water and blood mages, a freaking wide river, a long wooden bridge and sunlight that doesn't seem to want to cooperate [with Allius, anyway, in case you were cheering for the 'bad' guys]. I'll unfocus, refocus, edit, then prob post it here later on, hehehehe.
> 
> Anyway... how is everyone else? Been reading a lot of stuff mostly [a lot of fanfic, yes; it's fascinating how people can relate comic book characters using just words]. Happy 2013, to everyone, btw...


We're stickied, so double posts don't matter as much. I remember one time I posted like 5 times in a row and nobody said anything. I'm okay. Though I haven't written much more. I made my first literotica in the past month. It was pretty good I think lol. I'm still running through stuff in my head on how I should structure my books. It's going to be a trilogy with fourth and final book detailing the end of the human race.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 2, 2013)

Sterling said:


> We're stickied, so double posts don't matter as much. I remember one time I posted like 5 times in a row and nobody said anything. I'm okay. Though I haven't written much more. I made my first literotica in the past month. It was pretty good I think lol. I'm still running through stuff in my head on how I should structure my books. It's going to be a trilogy with fourth and final book detailing the end of the human race.


 

I'm sure you mean 'erotica'... Literotica is a site, IIRC.

Also, I think you should just write it as it goes. The thing about a series is that you're usually having to go and change what happens next when another idea falls out of idea-land. This is apparently why The Dark Tower and ASOIAF took so long [or in the case of GRRM's magnum opus, is taking so long].


----------



## Sterling (Jan 3, 2013)

Shinigami357 said:


> I'm sure you mean 'erotica'... Literotica is a site, IIRC.
> 
> Also, I think you should just write it as it goes. The thing about a series is that you're usually having to go and change what happens next when another idea falls out of idea-land. This is apparently why The Dark Tower and ASOIAF took so long [or in the case of GRRM's magnum opus, is taking so long].


I do, but I feel literotica is the better word (being literature and erotica combined). Probably isn't correct but it's okay.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 3, 2013)

So... As promised, Chapter 1 of B,G,C. Notes afterward, and also, since the chapter's broke up into more than a couple of parts, a short bullet list [table of contents], too, so as not to make it too confusing, lol.





Spoiler: 1.1 [Heat]



Getting away was the easy part; even gold chain-level fire mages were unable to look everywhere, especially at night. Nights, especially when the sky was clear and the moonlight strong, was when Allius made the most progress. He hunted - it’s what he did before he was found to be practicing shadow magic - what he could, and never had a problem finding food. His strength - his power - was coming back.
  Meanwhile, what little talk he heard indicated that Sirvu’s plan had, for the most part, succeeded. He - and anyone else who was still practicing shadow magic - was to be apprehended ‘by any means necessary’, whereas a recently appointed gold chain was said to be a blood mage, much like Sirvu. Keisen’s death had left Sirvu as the only magiciar, though some wild rumors were still flying about a possibility of another magiciar being named soon.
  Practically the only thing that went awry in Sirvu’s plan was his oversight of not being prepared to defend himself. He had to still be hurt somewhat, Allius reasoned, if he wasn’t personally leading the hunt. Then again, Sirvu’s influence was growing by the day, and perhaps the man had learned to be more cautious.
  With that said, however, Allius didn’t have the time to worry about anything other than those pesky fire mages hot on his trail. ‘Hot’ on his trail, literally - he could feel them all too easily. It was as if they were trying to psych him out, knowing that their magic had an ‘advantage’ over his. Allius had to admit they did, at the moment.
  So Allius snuck around and bided his time.


 


Spoiler: 1.2 [It's a trap]



Allius munched on a piece of deer meat as he walked. Every once in a while, he would stop, look around, then change direction slightly before moving on. He had taken down the deer the other day and preserved some of the meat, leaving the carcass to curious predators, scavengers… and fire mages who were out hunting. It was a risk he had no choice but take, or risk starvation.
  Allius popped the last morsel into his mouth, his jaws working. He had - unsurprisingly - not eaten well while in captivity. Keisen had appeared not just wary and apprehensive about his existence, Allius thought; Keisen seemed scared. The ex-grand sage had been scared enough that he never thought to watch his back. It didn’t really make sense to Allius, who knew that Keisen had little trouble stopping him, and did so twice.
  His musings were interrupted by perhaps half a dozen birds taking flight in a loose group, less than a hundred meters from the south. Allius spun toward that direction, watching. The birds scattered in three different directions, but none of them circled back. Allius faced to the north, then to the west, where he was heading, and decided to go north-west.
  As he ran, the shadows formed over his clothes - he’d stolen some before escaping - until he was again robed in black. Ahead of him, the trees were thinning, and he could hear a steady gurgling. He burst out into the riverbank, and stopped. Before him, the river gurgled along happily, too wide, too deep, the current too fast for him to risk trying to cross it. There was a small wooden bridge, further down along the riverbank - to the south. Allius shook his head; he’d been herded there.
  They were coming, he knew that much. He didn’t know who, how many, from which direction, or what kind of magic they knew… but he knew they were coming. A smile alighted on his lips; two can play that game. With unnatural calm, Allius scooted down and started to tap small rocks and pebbles, walking backward in a zigzag as he went.


 


Spoiler: 1.2.1 (flashback)



“See these tracks, Allius?”
  The young boy squatted down to the ground, the better to inspect the spot. “Yes, grandpa,” he said.
  “Everyone needs water. Animals need them too. Now, even an inexperienced trapper can catch an animal without having to find where the animals live.”
  “Because animals will always go near water?” the young boy asked.
  “Yes. Predators do it, too. This place is a prime ambush location. Now, watch. This is simple flora magic, see?”
  The young boy watched his grandfather manipulate a wide leaf that was lying down on the ground. “What does it do?”
  “Well, the technique differs. Others use thorny vines or very sticky leaves. It is my preference to use wood. Now, let’s leave it here, shall we?”
  The young boy looked up to his grandfather, smiling, and nodded. The two of them walked away, leaving an otherwise innocent leaf on the ground.
  “So are you going to teach me how to do that, grandpa?” the young boy was saying as he held on to the old man’s hand.
  The old man laughs, and soon they are too far away, their voices washed away by the rush of the river current.


 


Spoiler: 1.2.2



Allius sensed them before he heard them approach. Four at least, he gauged; four fire mages, and who knows who else went along for the hunt. He looked down at the small rocks and pebbles along the riverbank and smiled.
  “Well, look who it is!”
  Allius looked up. There were three of them, all with gold chains taut around their necks. One was in a bright orange robe, a fire mage; the other was in turquoise, a water mage. The other, who stood well behind, was in robes of scarlet, similar to Sirvu’s. Allius scoffed at the sight; the rumors were true.
  “Shadow binder, huh? Not quite as good as I thought,” sneered the fire mage up front. He was either powerful or very talented to radiate as much as four mages would. “It seems I’ve caught you.”
  Allius didn’t say a word, opting to take half a step back instead. His attention was centered on the blood mage at the very back. The fire mage inched a foot forward. Rocks and pebbles shot upward, shadows propelling them airborne, striking all three gold chains.
  Allius turned to run, skipping past stones, when the river rose up, crashing down on him a moment later. Allius didn’t get wet; his shadow robes were water-proof. However, the force of the water crashing down activated his real traps. Spiky shadows emerged from under the rocks; anyone who stepped on them would have been badly mangled.
  “Burn!” the fire mage exclaimed. Allius risked a glance over his shoulder; a hand-shaped burst of flames was flying toward him. His shadow robe dragged behind him, and with a twitch, it threw up the wet pebbles on the ground skyward. The pebbles bounced off the appendage-shaped flame, smoking; the flaming hand slowed down.
  Allius slowed down, his shadow robes pooling at his feet. A moment later, he bounced skyward, the rest of his robes creeping along the ground following his shadow as he soared away. When he descended, the robes flared up, stretching into a net. He landed on the net, slowing down his descent; the shadows re-wrapped around him as he landed.
  Allius could see the bridge just ahead of him. Behind him, the three gold chains were all far behind. Allius ran.


 


Spoiler: 1.3 [Abridge over troubled water]



Allius was a quarter of the way across the bridge spanning the river when he felt the heat growing. They were still after him. Grunting, he snatched a quick look at the sky. The sun was lazily heading westward, as it should, but thin clouds were coming in eastward; soon the clouds would obscure the sun, not for too long, but long enough to disadvantage him.
  Allius pushed his legs harder. He had not anticipated that his traps could be triggered like that. He was a third of the way through the bridge when he heard the rumbling. A glance below showed the river bubbling, pooling up… as though preparing to strike.
  He got his robes up just in time, as a torrent of water punched through the wooden planks. He skipped around the damaged area, trying to get as close as possible toward the opposite riverbank before the bridge gave way. Below, the water rumbled again, and Allius focused on timing it.
  He had counted to nineteen - twenty, considering small inaccuracies - when the planks beneath him exploded outward. The water had shot up in a spiral, as opposed to a solid column as it did earlier. Allius shielded himself, but the effort cost him his bearings, and he found himself falling into the rushing river below.
  His robes wrapped around him, part cocoon and part harness, as a strand of it snaked out, wrapping itself around a part of the bridge. His robes pulled him back up and Alius landed on the bridge, slightly winded. Nonetheless, he ran on, sensing the heat growing, as well as having counted halfway to five already; he did not have time to rest.
  The count was eighteen. Allius, gasping for every breath, was halfway through the bridge. His robes snaked off him, slipping through the tiny gaps of the wooden planks. At the count of twenty, water crashed against the underside of the bridge, but other than jarring the slightly worn structure, the bridge remained unharmed. The fully-waterproof and nigh-indestructible robes had shielded the vulnerable wood underneath Allius.
  Allius continued to run. Above him, the clouds had started to cover the sun.


 


Spoiler: 1.4 [Checkmate]



Allius bit back a curse as he felt the sunlight weaken; he was too short of breath to waste it on profanities. Below him, the water had stopped rumbling. His robes re-formed around him, easing his motion. Above and slightly to the west, the sun was a quarter of the way through the covering clouds.
  Seemingly out of nowhere, Allius heard the unmistakable roar of flames. He neither saw nor smelled smoke ahead, so he risked a glance back, and saw flames creeping along the wooden bridge. “Damn them all!” he swore, unable to stop himself. Around him, his robes were starting to warp as it felt the presence of fire. Allius took a mental check of his lower extremities and forced a little more out of his screaming legs.
  Two-thirds of the way across the bridge, the sun halfway through the clouds; Allius stopped cold in his tracks. The three gold chains were on the far bank. Panting, he doubled over, close to collapse. The bridge was starting to sag as the flames ate through its foundations; soon, the charred remain of the half behind Allius would crash into the river, and the other half would follow suit.
  “Missed us?” the fire mage called out from the far bank.
  “I didn’t know… this was… a race… to the far bank…” Allius wheezed. He winced as he looked further on, towards what would have been freedom. His robe slithered off him, crawling to the underside of the bridge again. A wind started up, blowing westward. “Ah, shit,” Allius said. Now the clouds would be going west, covering the sun again.
  “Checkmate,” declared the fire mage on the far bank. “The grand mage wants you brought back alive… to face the murder of grand sage Keisen. Come along quietly, you’ll live a little longer.”
  Behind him, Allius heard the splash as part of the burning bridge fell into the river. He chuckled to himself.


 


Spoiler: 1.4.1 (flashback)



The old man looked on at the bleeding deer as it struggled weakly. One of its hind legs had been impaled by numerous wooden barbs that grew out of the wide leaf they’d left behind as a trap. Behind him, his grandson peeked out.
  “We… uh, caught it… right?” Allius asked his grandfather.
  “Yes, Allius. Are you afraid?”
  Allius looked at the pitiful animal; none of the predators had touched it, since animals had a general dislike of magic. “I… I feel bad.”
  The old man nodded. “I know, Allius. But, this is how we trap and hunt.” He glanced down. “Don’t you want to learn it anymore?”
  Allius looked up at his grandfather’s solemn face and shook his head. “No… I mean, yes, I still want to learn it… But, grandpa, I… I can’t…”
  The old man shook his head, smiling. “I know, Allius. It’s ok. Now… let’s put it out of its misery.”
  Allius nodded. He stepped out from behind the old man, the sun high above him.
  A shrill cry echoed out.


 


Spoiler: 1.4.2



Allius stood up straight. Behind him, the bridge burned, the smokeless flames eating through the wood. He stepped back, toward the heat, the flames that his conjured robes shrank away from. In front of him, his shadow darkened as he got closer to the heat and light; it was a stark black, flickering figure.
  On the far bank, the conjured robe had finished creeping under the bridge. The three gold chains were too engrossed watching Allius, trying to figure out what the shadow binder was planning, when the dark blob flew at them, flaring up like a fabric to cover them.
  Allius smiled as he heard the cries out surprise from the far bank. He lifted his left hand, pointing it at the three gold chains; the arm seemed to convulse, then lock up. Finally, his arm fell against his side, limp and seemingly boneless. The shadow of his left arm, however, stayed in position and shot forward.
  The water mage beat at the dark substance that was starting to wrap itself around his neck; his efforts were ineffectual. Beside him, the fire mage grunted and snapped his fingers; fire bloomed from his fingertips, and the dark tendrils crept back, as he knew they would. None of them saw the extending shadow of Allius’ left hand headed their way.
  Allius’ left arm - bound in a shadow form - wound around the three struggling figures. It sought their shadows. The fire mage, who was using the flames on his hand to chase away the robes’ strangling tendrils, grunted when he noticed he could no longer move his hand. The dark tendrils crept up his neck again. Beside him, the water mage had collapsed, clawing at his throat, eyes bugging out, gasping for breath.
  Allius grabbed the shadow of the fire mage’s arm with his shadow-locked arm, stopping him from using the conjured flames. Part of his robes had already withdrawn from the water mage’s corpse, to focus on the blood mage, who had somehow found a way to fight it off. The fire mage was struggling in his grip.
  The fire mage eyed his dead colleague warily. They had underestimated the damned shadow binder, who had somehow found a way to use his own flames against him. Flames still sprouted from his fingertips, but he can’t use it to help himself, as his arm was locked. His other hand was busy beating away at the dark substance still trying to strangle him, and he had used too much energy setting the bridge on fire. “Give me a transfusion!” he cried out to his other companion.


 


Spoiler: 1.5 [The other side]



Allius felt it as it happened. He figured that the blood mage had a reason to be there, other than to observe for Sirvu. Normally, all the teachings said that blood does not carry magic from source to recipient; of course, those teachings had not included the school of blood magic. He withdrew his arm, as well as his robes. He glanced up; the winds had blown the clouds past the sun by then.
  The fire mage inhaled deeply. Behind him, the blood mage withdrew his hand out from the folds of the bright-orange robes. The air around the fire mage started to shimmer as tremendous heat radiated off him. “Thanks,” he grunted.
  Behind Allius, the flames started to intensify, changing color as it did. Whatever the blood mage did, it had evened out the tables and then some. He ran forward, away from the flames, to where the sunlight could produce a black shadow. The fingers of his left hand twitched as it unbound from the shadow.
  “Time to burn,” the fire mage said as he saw Allius running toward them. The bridge starting from their side burst in green, enchanted flames. He prepared to incinerate Allius if the shadow binder emerged somewhere.
  “The grand mage will not like it if the shadow binder were to perish here,” the blood mage stated flatly behind the fire mage.
  “He just killed a gold chain. Do we have a choice?”
  Their short conversation stopped abruptly as a dark, shadowy limb shot past them, grabbing a nearby tree. Moments later, a black-cocooned form flew toward the tree.
  Allius landed, rolling on the ground, his robes protecting him from injury as he reeled himself toward the tree. He stood up, spinning to face his two remaining pursuers. His robes slithered off him again, vanishing in the underbrush and under the small stones.
  “Not protecting yourself?” the fire mage asked, eyeing the ground, wary.
  “He’s contacted the ‘other side’,” the blood mage supplied. The scarlet-robed mage stepped back “This is not good,” he added.
  “It seems Sirvu’s been reading up, sharing the knowledge,” Allius said. “Let’s play.”
  Before the two gold chains can move, the pebbles on the ground shot up again, like it did earlier. This time, however, the robe shot out from underfoot as well, wrapping itself around their legs.
  Flustered, the fire mage conjured more flames at his fingertips, hoping to drive the dark tendrils away again. Beside him, the blood mage was saying something, but he got cut off as the tendrils reached his throat once again. He waved his hand over his legs… and the shadowy substance caught fire.
  Allius just watched as the two gold chains screamed in pain while the pale violet flames ate through them. The flame mage eyed him hatefully while he exhausted his energies trying to put out the fire, doing the complete opposite, as the flames only spread further.
  Allius turned his back to the charred remains of the two gold chains, huffing for breath.


 
Again, sorry for the formatting. I tried everything I could think of, none of which, sadly, worked out. Eh, well...

So, notes...



Spoiler: notes



-  Allius' 'shadow robes' aren't made out of his shadow [though he can certainly use those, too, as illustrated here]. He just takes shadows around him, since using his own shadow is too risky. Usually, he'd just use shadows from 'the other side'.
-  Also, the robes are part protection [akin to Gaara's passive sand shield in Naruto], part remote-controlled blob of shapeless [i.e. malleable, ductile, flexible etc] darkness, and partly like the venom symbiote from spiderman [without trying to overcome the host].
-  It's alluded to before that shadow magic is weak against flame in general. This is because shadows shrink away from flames [not the heat or light, just the flames themselves]. However, it doesn't really have an effect on normal shadows, aside from making them flicker.
-  The reason Allius' impromptu double assault worked [noting that he was using shadow magic whilst near a significant amount of fire] is because he got his robes far enough, and he reversed the process with his arm [i.e. he didn't bind the shadows to his arm; he bound his arm to the shadows]
-  The basis of 'normal' shadow magic is in 'surfaces', since normal shadows are 2d images born from an opaque object blocking the light. Making the shadows solid [mostly 3d] is the hallmark for a good shadow mage [though to get to binder status, you'd have to get to the 'other side' first]
-  'Flora magic' [taken from 'flora and fauna', or plant and animal life] is a branch of 'nature magic' [you'd prob pass with thinking of this like druidic magic or something], focusing on, well, plant matter.
-  Allius' gramps knows what his grandson is. This is lampshaded when Allius starts to voice doubts [about learning flora magic] and he says "I know". Also, he lets Allius finish off the wounded deer [offscreen, since I figured you've seen too many animals die in the story already].
-  Allius' gramps [no name yet... help?] is dead, otherwise there'd be two of them on the run, and you really wouldn't want a good flora mage stalking around in a forest [basically, he's dead because the author thought to make life tougher on the main character]. Thankfully, he taught his grandson some tricks.
-  There's supposed to be a small explanation at the end of 1.5 about the 'shadow flames' so to speak. I edited it out because it kind of didn't fit and sounded OOC. Basically, mages are taught the shadows shrink away from flames and don't burn. In the shadow plane, shadows don't give a crap about fire, and could combust magically, eating away at anything solid [i.e. anything that can cast a discernible shadow] that it happened to be on, and you can't put it out.
-  The reason the fire mage seemed a little underpowered is because he had been radiating energy to intimidate Allius. Also, he's near a freakin' big river, so you could say he was disadvantaged somewhat by 'synergies' not agreeing with him, hehehehehe.
-  The water mage's assault on the bridge is patterned after a skill in dota. Torrent, IIRC. Also, it was the water mage that allowed the trio to get across the raging river without using a bridge.
-  Yes, the blood mage did the same thing Sirvu did to Keisen, except he wasn't trying to kill his companion. 'Transfusion' is exactly what you think it means.
-  Also, yes, Allius is going to pay in the next few chapters for calling on the shadow plane when he was so weak. The term 'binder' does mean that if you bind something to you [or bind yourself to something] that you can't handle at the moment, you will regret it sooner or later.
-  Um, if you're mind is now assaulted by images of big, black, waving tentacles... I'm sorry 


 
Cheers. Gimme feedback, it, erm, feeds my creative drive. I'll prob introduce a new [read: female] character on the next chapter, though with the story I have in mind, I doubt I can still post it here, but we'll see. Also, it gives me an excuse to let Allius heal in the background while he's not the focus character.


PS

I'm still researching that character whose robes are made of shadow. So far, I've pegged it to be Raven [big surprise] of the teen titans, though it merits further research. I could just be confusing it with her 'soul self', hm...


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 9, 2013)

Hm... I'm totally bummed out and bored to all heck atm. A spot of sleep deprivation can do that to ya, hahahaha. I'll prob finish up chapter 2 of B,G,C after I've taken my daily 'sleep' [I hate sleeping more than 5 hours; mainly coz I think sleeping is just wasting my already short life span]. Updates on that later on, and I think I've managed to write it so I can post it here. It makes me have to keep working [something I read said that displaying your current work to an audience basically shames you into continuing, writer's block be damned]. Hopefully I can sleep, eat, finish, edit and post before my internet runs out in, uh, 12 or so hours...

Anyways... I'm not sure if we've touched about it, but, looking objectively [or is the right term 'subjectively'??? I'm gonna have to ask Merriam and Webster later] at your written [finished, unfinished, abandoned, etc] work thus far, what are some common things that just pop up, with or without you meaning it to pop up. Obviously, this is more obvious for those of us who write fiction prose, but some things, like rhyming [esp in poetry, songs], theme, atmosphere, or even stock phrases, words or references can count.

I'll start with mine, from the glaring to the less obvious...




Spoiler: long list



-  My stories are dark

Pretty sure when someone specifically has to think of a way to write a 'dark' christmas story, it would be a glaring example, rofl. Suffice to say that, basically, I am of the opinion that dark prose is/can be just as good as all the 'feel good', upbeat stuff, even if the real world is rather shitty.

Of course, stuff I've posted here so far has to be carefully written [worded, edited... basically, whatever works] unless I want to get a taste of the banhammer or whatnot. I guess that's an annoying side to it, but I manage.

-  Notes

Most of the stories I post have notes with annotations ranging from central to the story to mundane trivia. I think a fiction piece is better with a companion piece, and some authors do have forewords/afterwords or some such stuff.

-  Names

My naming system [ assuming one exists] is just... broken. I'm like this in real life, too, preferring nicknames to actual names. As far s I can tell, this is due to 2 reasons. One, my main source of fiction back then was anime, whose characters have Japanese [or in case of localization, changed names] that were uncommon. Also, I don't socialize much, and thus, can't work past my little problem of being uncomfortable with them.

I usually spend close to 20-something minutes thinking, and then go "screw this" and pull something out of thin air. In the first story I seriously wrote, only the main character had a name [ two names, in fact, but no surname]; everyone else is referred to by a generic title or description, which kind of hampers the narrative some.

-  Death

Well, the temp name IS shinigami357 [more on the number later], so I guess you can attribute the name to this. What I mean here is not writing about a character dying; characters die in a majority of fiction all the time, after all. Basically, its lurking somewhere there in the background in every story I write, and is sometimes [well... oftentimes] pointed out.

The main reason for this is because when you come down to it, the only eventual end is death. [Scientists are trying to deter or even stop this, but so far, they ain't got nothin' on that there reaper] I don't say that to be mean or in your face, but it's true; sadly enough, some people are dead before they're born, even. I mean, the only other thing inevitable in the world is love [to adhere to my, erm, grizly example above, even unborn people are loved... hopefully], and EVERYONE writes a little bit of that into their stories, even me [also, arguably, change]. You can't have yang without yin, and imho, there's way too much yang.

- The numbers

I have a ripe old time explaining my username, esp in KYTs. So far, my best excuse for 357 is along the lines of "it's 99.[something]% of 360, so let's pretend it's deep and all that". Basically, I like the numbers 3, 5, 7 and, uh 357. So, say, if my main character has a gun that isn't a BFG sniper rifle, expect it to be a colt python revolver loaded with - what else - 357 magnum ammo. If the main character is a genetic experiment, expect his specimen tag to contain 357 somewhere.

Also, of special note, 17 and 21. The product of these two is, obviously, 357. I've barely used these, but I have a liking to them, and so far, the only work [currently in developmental hell] they both appear in is as location designations where 2 of the 3 main characters come from. The third main character comes from 'state' 1, so the product is still 357, wahahaha.

-  Weird/mundane references

Um, well, yeah. Self-explanatory.

-  Any genre that isn't a straight-up romantic/drama story

Suffice to say, I'm more likely to write a 'slash short-story length erotica fanfic [complete with fluff and lemon, of course]' than write any of the two mentioned above. I usually stick to sci-fi [or spec fics], horror, or fantasy of some sort, though.

-  Weird verbosity

Exactly what you'd think it means. However, being rather paranoid does mean I'm constantly referring to Merriam-Webster or some other resource to make sure I haven't confused a term with another.

-  The devil is in the details

There was a point I was combing through a 12k length chapter [yes, it was hellishly long] changing 'forest' to 'woods'... or was it 'woods' to 'forest'? Well, anyway, that particular detail wasn't even central to the chapter [it was a slight house in the woods/haunted house/runaway children/Bathory reference, in case you were wondering].

Also, when I'm writing sci fi in particular, I try to get as much factual reference behind whatever happens/appears in the course of the story. Furthermore, I like to turn these things into Chekhov's guns [more on this]

-  Somewhat controversial themes

Pops out once in a while, most obviously with the death thing. It isn't as much a dare for the reader to justify for or against the issue, but a form of introspection. When I write about something, it generally shows how my mind reacts to it better than if I were actively discussing it.

-  Tropes

Well, most writers usually use these unconsciously, anyway, but I've been fascinated to see how they work. I'll usually allude to some [like the aforementioned Chekhov's gun, lampshading, etc etc et al] especially when discussing stuff.

-  Animals

In particular, Ravens. There are a lot of animals I like [though admittedly, have never been in contact with] but haven't successfully integrated into stories, mostly for the lack of info that a wiki article just doesn't provide. The only reason I can integrate Ravens is because its such a fixture in myth, folklore and literature, already anyway. MY profile avatar is indicative of this, I think.

Also, being a fan of Jurassic Park [any kid back then prob liked it, because weirdly enough, dinos seem to be popular with younger audiences... prob why Barney works], I love dinosaurs; esp velociraptors [yeah, I know, sue me] and ankylosaurs. I'm mentally formulating a story where I can fit them in atm; we'll see if it ever sees the light of day [and then go straight to developmental hell, muhahahahahaha].

Of course, animal symbolism has been done to the point that most authors do it, anyway...

-  Religion [or the lack of them]

Well, you wouldn't be able to spot this unless you're specifically looking for it, and is thus most mundane... To make this short, most of my main characters are atheistic or subscribe to a non-religious faith/belief system. Personally, I'm not baptized to any religion [kind of weird in hindsight, really], and I'm trying to look at the whole thing anyway, so I'd rather keep my characters ambiguous.


 
Also, um... yeah, updates on B,G,C... Well, I already touched on it earlier [waaaay earlier], but basically, I tried to take out any direct references to stuff that could get it blocked and whatnot. Basically, first shift of POV character, new magic, more antagonists, etc etc...

And... the hunt for 'character whose robe is made of shadows' gets an update.

So, um, it isn't quite Raven. She had an actual, uh, cloak [which is blue], though she does use her 'soul self' to  sort of engulf herself in a robe/cloak-like manner, but it isn't the same thing... Which leads me back to square one... Urgh.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 10, 2013)

Well, I'm not sure if anything I write follows a certain theme with any consistency. I guess I'll give it a go.

The main character always finds true love. I'm sure it's because I'm currently single and have always enjoyed the company of the opposite sex. More of me projecting my wants and needs upon the reader.

My main characters are usually based off of people I know in real life. Some people say this is a pretty dumb idea, however I seem to be able to pull it off well myself since I know my friends pretty well.

References to things frequently pop up in my writing. Sometimes they are so ridiculous that they take away from the story. I've recently quelled that though so they aren't glaringly obvious.

I subconsciously avoid tropes. Seriously, I've managed to avoid nearly every trope in my story so far. I find that fascinating since my friend can't even write a chapter without hitting one or more.

Food. I reference anything edible at least once in every chapter. I even make myself hungry.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 12, 2013)

So, given that I promised an update of B, G, C Wednesday, and it's Saturday now [Philippine time, of course] and there's no sign of it anywhere... Guess it got writer's block'd... Half of it, more or less, is written, then my mental editors and fiction writers got into an impasse. [think of them as the same visual puns spongebob had when squidward had to pretend the krusty krab was a 5-star restaurant and spongebob had to become head waiter... and had to 'clear his mind of everything except fine dining and breathing']

↑ Obscure reference, FTW!!! ↑

Anyway, the basic reason this happened is coz my head is under protest. Said protest being: 'we're writing the sequel to ccorax, with or without you... punk." My mental editors, fiction writers, fact-checkers and grammar nazis all agree on it, so I decided, what the hell.

I know it's stupid, and I'll prob regret it by the time I have to do the numerous retcons and stuff for the rewrite of book one, but what the heck. Can't exactly argue when I'm being held hostage by my creative impulses. I might never get another chance to do it like this again, wahahahaha.

I'll prob still have time to update B, G, C once in a while, though...

PS

I did ask Merriam-Webster... The correct term is 'objective'.
Update: Book 2 started. Official title is 'Anomalies'. Doing well so far.


----------



## astrangeone (Jan 13, 2013)

I've started writing again!  I'm writing a few chapters for a hope to be published book - the different women I loved.

I really don't have patience for doing this as well as dealing with school.


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Jan 13, 2013)

Hello, people! I haven't been here in a LOOONG time (2 years I think lol). Just wanted to let everyone know that my works are now on figment.com:
Click here


----------



## Blaze163 (Jan 13, 2013)

Since they're nearing completion, why don't I start posting the chapters for my own writings? To start things off, here's the first chapter of my Final Fantasy VII alternate reality commission work, currently under the working title 'Sliding Doors'. I hope you enjoy it. If so, post your comments and I'll consider uploading more, maybe even from my other projects. I don't deal with just fanfics though, I do original works. Anyway, here's the prologue and the first short chapter.



Spoiler



Prologue.

His chest was pounding, his breathing erratic, muscles aching as he ran through the streets, leaping over burning debris from the crumbling houses in his frantic search for survivors. He had seen many things on his travels, but never such dark hearted butchery of innocent civilians. Dozens of good people lay dead in his path, cut down by either the inferno or the lethal blade of the madman that now stalked these streets. Many still burned in their doorways; the smell of scorched flesh filling his head, a smell he would never forget and hoped with every fibre of his being was never inflicted on anyone else. This was more than death. This was the stench of treachery.

Stumbling into the main square, he was filled with hope at the sight that awaited him. A small group of survivors had escaped the blaze, running for the safety of the outskirts, carrying the wounded with them. A young man knelt down beside a dying young woman, his fingertips aglow as his healing magic pulsed through her body, creating energy barriers to stop the internal bleeding threatening her life. Her breathing slowed and she smiled at her benefactor as he moved on to another, an old man with huge gashes across his chest, led in a pool of blood as he struggled to hang on to his life. The young man cursed as he found his spell to be too little too late, his strength waning leaving him unable to continue.

A scream pierced the nightmare and everyone whirled to face the source, instantly regretting it. The silver haired madman's impossibly long blade impaled another innocent man through the chest, dark crimson seeping along the viciously sharp edge as the victim choked and struggled in his last few moments, cast aside with a deft flick of the madman's wrist as his body became nought but an empty shell. 

The silver haired murderer turned to face them, raising his arm to send out powerful magical orbs that sought out the terrified survivors as they ran for the town's exit. The glowing ice blue orbs thudded into the innocents as they dove for cover, vaporising flesh and bone as the few survivors fell to the floor, survivors no more. One last orb hurtled towards the kneeling healer as he screamed his rage into the sky, leaping to his feet and deflecting the deadly magic with his vast blade. The sword barely withstood the onslaught, the steel left scorched but its wielder unharmed, his breath ragged as his efforts to save the town began to take their toll, now found to be mostly in vain. 

He turned to look upon them and his lips curled into a twisted smile. He knew he could finish them at any moment, but what would be the sport in that? Besides, he had more important matters to attend to. He turned into the flames and strode through with no fear, as if he knew the flames themselves feared him.

***

Chapter One - Reprisal

Deep within the twisted paths of Mount Nibel, a lone Shinra grunt charged recklessly along ancient paths he knew from painful experience to be dangerous. But only one danger was on his mind, the danger she must be in at that very moment. He clutched his standard issue assault rifle, now low on ammo thanks to the many monsters that pursued him, knowing that his chances of making a difference were slim at best given who his opponent would be, but he would face him nonetheless. He had promised, so long ago.

***

She had been foolish to challenge him. Brave beyond measure, but foolish. Only fortune had prevented her from meeting her doom, and had not been enough to save her from serious injury. His healing magic had been enough to keep her alive, for now at least. She still had the spirit to insult him. Whatever kept her in this world, it was stronger than the thoughtless rage of her attacker. Drawing his Buster Sword, the dark haired warrior stepped through the doors, preparing to face his old friend. One way or another, this would end here and now.

*** 

The core of the mako reactor shook with the sounds of the battle of champions blazing within. As he ran to the aid of his friend, the cacophony reached its climax and the dark haired warrior was sent flying through the steel doors leading to the core, his blade spinning into the room and burying itself in one of the thick cables stemming from the mako infusion chambers. Shielding himself from the blast, the guard ran to the side of his badly wounded friend, grabbing bandages from the pouch at his hip. 

"Zack, are you alright? What can I do to help?" the young guard stuttered, his nerves close to breaking point. The young man brushed the dark hair from his friend's eyes, hair now matted with blood from multiple wounds. Zack nodded slowly, struggling to sit up as he took the bandages from his friend. He pointed towards his sword with a bloodied finger, knowing his friend would understand.

"What about Tifa? Is she alright?"

"I see there's no distracting you, Cloud. Maybe if we get out of this alive, you can tell me the whole story. She's wounded, but stable. Take care of Sephiroth for me. I'll keep her safe for you." 

With that Cloud wrenched his friend's treasured Buster Sword from the power cables, struggling to carry the immensely heavy blade. With hatred and vengeance burning bright in his eyes, he stepped through the broken doors, most likely to his own death, staring up at the man who had been his hero. 

***

With an almost deafening crash, the metallic statue was hurled to the floor, revealing the true purpose of the reactor's core. Encased in faintly glowing liquid, the creature contained within the tube was unlike anything that had ever been seen, a twisting, warped wall of exposed flesh and veins, cruel eyes completing a cold, emotionless face, wrapped in strangely delicate white hair. Hair just like that of his target. 

Sephiroth. The legendary Soldier First Class said to be impossible to defeat. His long sword by his side, the means by which much of the town had been brutally murdered, the silver blade dripping with blood, probably that of Tifa and Zack. The blood of his closest friends, apparently so worthless to Sephiroth that it didn't even necessitate cleaning the blade. Much like the blood of his mother, who had been found among the dead back in Nibelhiem.

Sephiroth had not even noticed him, stood there talking to whatever the creature within the tank was. Perhaps the opportunity Cloud needed. He let his rage fill his every thought. He thought of Zack, brave defender of the innocent who lay dying in the next room. His mother, his only family, everyone he had ever known from childhood, torn apart before his very eyes. Tifa, the girl who never left his thoughts, gravely injured and in need of the heroic rescue he had promised her under the stars that night. 

His anger overflowed and unlocked powers within him he never knew existed. Lifting the sword almost effortlessly, he thrust it deep into his enemy, piercing straight through Sephiroth's entire body and into the glass of the containment tank. He felt the blade tear through vital organs, blood gushing forth from both sides of the wound, trickling down the side of the glass. As Sephiroth gasped in shock, Cloud forced the blade even further into his back, twisting it to increase the pain.

"This is for my family. My friends. My town. I looked up to you. You were my hero as a child. Now you'll die as nothing more than a murderer." 

As Cloud retracted the bloodied tip of the Buster Sword, his fallen hero turned to face him, reaching for his sword to strike back. Before he could enact his vengeance, Cloud swung his blade down from high in one final powerful strike, watching the shock spark in Sephiroth's eyes as the sharp edge of the sword dealt the finishing blow, slicing cleanly through flesh and bone from shoulder to hip. The glow in his enemy's eyes slowly dimmed as he grasped at the air, falling to his knees as his heartbeat began to fail, his last few moments spent staring into the face of his killer.

***

Sirens wailed through the highest levels of Shinra Tower as men in white coats scrambled to confirm what they prayed was just a rumour. Red alarm lights flashed through the entire medical facility, the tension so immense even the senior staff seemed moments away from screaming. Dozens of computer banks whirred and hummed as satellites were repositioned to survey the scene. As one lowly technician rerouted the images to the vast main display along the north wall, tension gave way to despair, the whole room suddenly silent.

The internal cameras mounted high on the walls of the mako reactor had recorded every moment. From the fight with Zack to his last agonising breaths, these were the final moments of the most powerful warrior to have ever lived. The composite of thousands of hours of research in biotechnology, Cetran history, martial arts, every aspect that had made him a legend. But now there was no doubt. Though his closest rival had failed, one lowly grunt had succeeded.

Sephiroth was dead.






What did you guys think? Not my best work but I don't think it's too bad.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 14, 2013)

Eh... I didn't finish FF VII so I'm not familiar with the characters and all that. The game ends when Sephiroth's dead anyways, right[???] so I guess that's a moot point, since he's dead by the first chapter [or is he?]. I'm interested to see how it turns out.

---

Anyway...

My computer up and corrupted 'Anomalies'... There was less than 1000 words in it, but I've basically purged them from my head, so now I'm rewriting the whole thing clueless and pissed off. Damn it. I hate it when this happens.

[sulks in a corner, muttering darkly to himself]


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 24, 2013)

Hey guys.

First things first, uh, 'Anomalies' update. Chapter one is done and I think slightly better off than I would have thought possible after the first one got wiped. There's a slight in-depth of exactly how my main character teleports objects ['porting' people is more complicated], and he gets his SSP back. Also, I've backed it up this time, so hopefully no more wipes.

I'm on to chapter 2 [got interrupted earlier coz my body was going into hibernate mode], around 1800 words in total.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 24, 2013)

Nice. I've moved onto chapter five or six on my re-write. So far I'm 5k words in.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 24, 2013)

Hm, I noticed that my previous post goes 'first things first' and there's no 'second thing'. The list stopped at one. Guess the rest of the interwebs whisked my mind off to other distractions, but at least I remembered to hit 'post'. Come to think of it, I'm not sure there is a second item.

Anyway, to compensate for horribly broken post/update...

I think I'll start a 'continuity checklist' of sorts, since I'll be doing the rewrite of book one after I finish book 2, I thought I'd keep a handy checklist of small details that might get lost and fuck up the continuity. Also, it's a handy reference, though knowing how I make notes/lists, prob gonna be confusing as all hell.

And yes, making book two that is immediately after book one [and therefore relies heavily on the foundation book one built] when book one isn't finalized yet is really wayward. I don't really mind, though.

So, a 'short' excerpt from chapter one [prob the only thing I can post that doesn't require the reader to know much of the backstory]



Spoiler: excerpt



357 studied the figures and the machinery as they poked through the rubble. He knows they are hoping to find something. They’d be so sorely disappointed; he’d already cleared the body and the weapon. The blood won’t turn up anything useful; it was a security feature, since XY’s get wounded sometimes.
He extended a hand toward the sheet of glass, turning the transparent material reflective. His reflection was faint in the near-darkness. Slowly, his eyes shifted colors, the blue settling in with the grey.
“What do you want?” Raven asked.
“I want to talk.”
“Here? Like this? We look like a horror movie now,” Raven observed as he saw their reflection.
“This is the best way to talk if we’re conscious.”
“I see.” Raven looked at the reflection in the temporary mirror. “Where are we?”
“Empty office across the street,” 357 answered.
“Observing your handiwork?” Raven asked, teasing.
“Observing their reaction,” 357 corrected.
“Well, considering you almost brought down a building on top of our head, I guess they’re not too happy.”
357 ignored Raven’s take on the situation. “Are you ready to go back?”
“I don’t know. Are we done here?”
357 nodded. “Here, yes. I just have to retrieve something.”
Raven raised an eyebrow, curious, but he held his tongue. He felt 357 focus their mind and their considerable energy. All of a sudden, time stood still and space seemed to stretch out in every direction, unhindered by walls, ceilings or floors. There was no matter; everything was energy, waiting to be plucked, transported. He did not know what 357 was looking for, until he felt that familiar sensation of materialization.
“What is that?” Raven asked as he looked at the object in their left hand. It was wide, slightly curved, dull grey, and seemed to be made of some alloy.
“Watch,” 357 said. Their left hand pulled back the jacket’s sleeve and attached the object to their right forearm. Raven felt a slight tingle go up their right arm as the object made contact with the skin. As the thin layer molded itself on their right forearm, a small portion, shaped like a millimeter-thick half-moon, stayed in place. All in all, the object covered the outer part of their right forearm from the wrist to about two inches away from the elbow.
“Wow,” was all Raven could say. He recognized it, the way it felt on the forearm, how it seemed to connect to his nervous system, as though a sixth finger, and the energy source inside it, waiting to be harnessed. He’d seen it, wielded it, even, in both dream and memory. “This is our - your - weapon.”
“Go ahead, engage it.”
Raven did. The black SSP blade emerged from the flat, forward-facing part of the raised half-moon portion. There was no hum, thrum, vibration, tingling, or indeed any other occurrence other than the blade emerging from seemingly out of nowhere. It weighed nothing, and indeed the whole weapon felt as much an important part of his arm as his hand did.
He wasn’t sure if it was him, 357 or just a deeply-ingrained response from their body from all the training, but their right arm stretched, flexed, and did a few, almost experimental, swings and thrusts. The last two were very straightforward: a thrust straight forward, at chest level, designed to pierce through the heart, and a short, horizontal, backhand swing, used to cut the head off, and, Raven knew, 357’s preferred method of attack. After that, without further conscious thought, the weapon disengaged.
“I don’t think I can use this over a jacket,” Raven commented.
“Wear it over the sleeve, it makes no matter. I wore it over armor all the time.”
Raven nodded as 357 moved their left hand, touching the glass again; it turned transparent. Across the street, the area has been surrounded by a throng of curious people barely held back by police lines. The excavation teams - and there were several - were coordinating to move a particularly tricky piece of rubble that seemed to be part of the foundation; if they took it our wrong, it could make everything collapse even further.
“Are you heading home yet?” 357 asked. Raven heard a certain change in his voice; 357 was either getting bored, impatient… or perhaps both.
He watched the sky towards the east start to lighten up and nodded. His irises started to lighten, and then deepen as the color shifted fully to blue.


 
Basically, all you need to know here is that 357 made an abandoned building crumble to kill off an enemy, causing Raven no end of trouble at home. Also, SSP is solid-state plasma, and there's a long hard explanation somewhere, but it's basically 'glowing sci-fi stuff used to make weapons [and other things]'.

Eh, I really can't get the indents to show up. I should prob just follow Sterling's example and use pastebin or something.

Guess that's all. Cheers, fellas!

---

@[user]Sterling[/user] You're rewriting Terrestria? Or is it another WIP?


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jan 24, 2013)

I was bored in the car, and listening to some music (Radiohead), then I thought of a very rough plot in my head.

The plot is about this guy, who has a power. Not a superpower, more like an ability. He can destroy things, make them fall apart, instantly. However, in order to use his ability, his mind needs to be angry. He needs to feel a state of perpetual rage to make it stronger. His rage amplifies it more and more. This is the point where I utilize it as a metaphor for transmitting negative emotion into what you do.

The story takes place across six points in his life: childhood, adolescence, college, work-life, marital-life, and the part where everything fucking falls apart. Literally, and symbolically. His anger becomes a defense mechanism, and throughout the course of his life, he begins to like the feeling. At certain points where he is forced to hinder it more and more, and fucking explodes completely. It's a recurring theme.

Each portion explored a given social issue. Childhood becomes associated with child abuse, adolescence with bullying, college with mass violence, work-life with drug abuse, marital-life with domestic abuse, and finally, falling-apart with war.

That's about it, I think.

EDIT: Oh, and here's a new short story. Kinda. It's kind of free-verse poetry too. Romantic-drama kinda thing. Um, I dunno. I realize that my stuff's quite a bit different from the stuff from the last few pages. XD It's probably cause I generally dislike writing anything that sounds too game-y or adventurous.

*cheat. don't cheat. go away. stay.*


Spoiler



You are not the one, she is. Why is that?

You are the one, she is not. Why is that?

I look up into her loving eyes.

I look up into her cold, dark, twisted eyes.

I look down on her shined shoes.

I look down on her disgusting bare feet.

I see the sun and the moon and the stars.

I see the the darkness and emptiness.

I love her, but I should not.

I hate her, but I should not.

Hopeful.

Hopeless.

Order.

Fate.

I hate you.

I love you.

Hands that are bare.

Hands that are warm.

Eyes that speak lies.

Eyes that say the truth.

A body that wills itself to the first bidder.

A body that wills itself to none.

Life in a box.

Life in the sky.

Safe.

Exciting.

Pleasant.

Incredible.

Appeased.

Frustrated.

When you are gone.

When you stay.

Leave me be.

Stay with me.

I die.

I live.

You.

Us.

Yours.

Ours.

Nobody's.

Mine.

Hate me.

Love me.

Kill me.

Save me.

Drown me.

Rescue me.

My eyes are fixated on all else.

My eyes are on you.

This is it.

This is the beginning.

Goodbye.

Hello.

Cheat.

Feel.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 24, 2013)

Hmm, I don't see many problems with your plot. Write it, I don't know if it sounds like something I'd enjoy. Will there be an explanation on how he got his ability?

@Shinigami357: Yeah, it's a re-write of Terrestria. I learned a lot since I started writing it, so I decided to put the knowledge to good use.


----------



## KingdomBlade (Jan 24, 2013)

Sterling said:


> Hmm, I don't see many problems with your plot. Write it, I don't know if it sounds like something I'd enjoy. Will there be an explanation on how he got his ability?.


 
No. I dislike explicit explanations and going detailed about explaining elements that aren't meant to be explained. Or else this might drive the plot in a more soft sci-fi, adventure light. It's meant to be much more about the implications of the ability, and what it means. The plot's vaguely influenced by Lionel Shriver's novel We Need to Talk About Kevin, about a guy who commits a high school massacre, though spans much farther in his life, and is much more driven by anger than a natural desire to kill or destroy.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Jan 24, 2013)

Hm, me likey. You're writing it in a more psychological kind of way, I assume [though with a broader scope]? Seems like my kind of story [elements-wise]. Best of luck.

Also, don't let it bother you if your stuff is different from some of the other stuff here [ours included]. It's the reason Sterling started the guild to begin with.

---

Usually I'd be writing right now [2am is my prime writing time], but the Philippines seems to have caught a chill, literally. We're getting temperatures below 20 now [Centigrade] especially deep into the night. Even though writing is conscious while shivering is supposed to be unconscious, it kind of gets in the way, since I'm not used to being this cold [seriously, it feels colder than if I were in a mall].


----------



## Wolvenreign (Jan 25, 2013)

I suppose I will apply.


1) Wolvenreign is my current name, and my most frequent. Others include Wolvenreign_Lyghtovoid, Bob Palindrome (Full name : Robert Racecar Palindrome) and A Smooth Criminal (for TF2 and Steam, though if you search for Wolvenreign on Steam you’ll find me more easily).

2) I would say my area of expertise is twofold; narratives and poetry. In general, I reach as high and far as I can imagine when I write fiction, not basing things on any particular event. When I write poetry, no matter the alliteration scheme, I try to write it about a place, painting pictures with words as though I’m painting scenery.

3) English is number 1 on both counts. It was my first and only, and I would say I’m quite proficient with it.

4) I have had a 3 year hiatus as of late, but then I really got back into posting again. Part of that may be that I have few choices left when it comes to entertainment anymore, but on the other hand, GBATemp is just such an amazing resource. I should have remembered that sooner, honestly.

5) I write all the time, whenever I get a chance. I have been inspired to be the person I am by the awe of the blank page; the wellspring of possibility.

6a) http://gbatemp.net/threads/anticipation.341571/
6b) http://gbatemp.net/threads/lunar-light-wip.341394/
6c) http://gbatemp.net/threads/the-bound-and-the-broken-chapter-1.341551/
6d) http://gbatemp.net/threads/the-bound-and-the-broken-chapter-2.341553/
6e) http://gbatemp.net/threads/the-worldburners-epic-poem.341496/


----------



## Wolvenreign (Jan 25, 2013)

Oh, and I'm thinking about another plot, but it's not terribly character-driven. It's about a componium that weaves universes. I want to call the story Cleft, after that symbol that begins some musical scores.


----------



## Sterling (Jan 25, 2013)

Welcome to the guild. Feel free to share your work.


----------



## astrangeone (Feb 4, 2013)

What I've Been Working On:

The Prisoner (a novella about a fantasy world controlled by a religious Order - basically, magically endowed people are used to fuel a spell for turning people Immortal.)

Chapter 1:


Spoiler



Chapter 1:  The Prisoner

I was put into heavy iron shackles.  I could feel their coldness and weight on my ankles and wrists.  The edges dug painfully into my flesh, a reminder of what I was charged with.  Murder.  I could feel the tension from the iron links loosen and tighten as the others were fastened in as well.  From what I could see, the main Warden was a woman.  A sadistic lady of the Order, she had personally saw to the torture of a young boy, just for information on the location of an artifact. The rest of the Order are no better.  A shout and a tug on the chain meant we were ready for travel, as it was.  I took up the stride, along with the rest of the prisoners.  My heavy iron mask kept hitting me in chest, and it was difficult with lift my head enough to keep the bottom edge from gouging me.  I could tell we were out of the tavern, as it was immensely bright, even through the slits in my iron mask.  I wondered how the Wardens kept themselves from going blind in the heat....

It was a five day trek from the town to The Pit.  The Pit, from stories I've been told, is just that.  A large gaping maw in the earth with different levels separating the prisoners.  The worse prisoners are at the bottom.  Two troughs ring the top, and they travel with pipes through different levels.  One of these holds food and water, and the other, excrement.  I was to experience The Pit for the rest of my life...

I heard the female Warden stomp up to me.  "Prisoner, you are lucky!  You get to spend time in the arena, before you spend the rest of your life in The Pit!"  As she left, her hand grasped a breast and squeezed with all her might.  Tears streamed down my face, and collected in the ridges and ledges of the mask.  I took a raspy breath, and used all my willpower to stop from passing out.  I felt the Warden remove the shackles from my wrists, and take away the chains from my ankles.  It was a relief to have my wrists out, and I nervously rubbed by a hand over the shackle indentation.

In the same motion, I quickly shot out my other wrist, the bony ends coming in contact the Warden's nose.  I felt her collapse, and I used the rest of my body to cushion her fall.  I wiggled out from underneath her limp body, and I felt two hands grab my shoulders.  My compatriot's hot breath washed over my left ear, and he said..."...I have a tool hidden behind the good stuff at the Warden's Den."  I then heard and felt a sickening crack as he rammed his knee into my ribs.  My consciousness quickly faded away.

I awoke in a dark room.  I was lying on a comfortable fabric mattress, and a quick check of my body felt okay.  My side was bandaged, although, and I felt a wetness coming from the bandages, although, strangely enough...no pain.  I sat up, feeling my head ring as the iron mask settled again.  I saw a torch flare into life, and the room was suddenly thrown into stark relief.  It was the old bartender from The Rusty Hook.  He grimaced and muttered something about having a job done.  "I'm not a murderer for hire, old man."  That voice, my voice sounded uncomfortably loud in my ears.  The bartender smirked, amusement playing over his face, and then he spoke.  "I've removed some of the effects of the mask.  Your senses should be louder, brighter and more easily accessed."

"I won't sleep with you.  So what's your price for helping me escape The Pit?"  My voice came out a little less loudly, but it was still hoarse from it's overuse before.  The old bartender continued...describing what I was charged with.  I nodded, and quickly cleared my throat.  The bartender offered me a goblet of wine, and I greedily downed it in a gulp, pouring it through the thin slit in my mask.  Much of it spilled onto the floor, but at least my thirst was quenched.  "Yes.  I was charged with the murder of the Head Warden."


 
Notes:


Spoiler



The Order - just a standard religious Order, but adovacating creation of Pain/Punishment in others so they know they aren't in Paradise.  Higher members are in the rest of the story, but this religious group isn't just content with living beings.

The Pit - basically a prison that is a giant hole in the ground in a desert.  It's reinforced with concrete and cobblestones, and hosts a elevator in it to lower and restrain prisoners into it.  It is pretty deep, and contains 30 levels.  The prisoners are fed and watered through a system of pipes and pumps.  Two different pumps and pipe systems control the water and food supply.  There are no cells, but just open spaces.  There is a spike pit right at the bottom of it, so people thrown into it usually die.

Magik Users - anyone who has the power to use any magik.  This world contains four types of magic - fire, water, earth and air.  However, there are people and characters with different affinities for magik...the Bartender is one of these people.

Iron Mask - basically a mask that muffles all of the five senses.  The wearer can barely see, hear, taste, touch, or smell when wearing it.  Another chapter is coming up, where the main character tries to get it removed.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Feb 5, 2013)

Haeven't been writing so much these last few days. Mum bought a 'new' [well, slightly used] notebook pc and though I can't use it for long stretches [esp not on weekends, when she lets my aunt borrow it for making business papers or something] it's way, way, waaaaaay better than our current pc. So I've been setting it up [y'know, browser, antivirus, plugins, downloaded the manual, disabled/deleted some items] and now that I've got it all done, I think I'll do most of my typing there [less chances of it crashing and/or wiping my files, for one].

Meanwhile, my head's story writing team has been assembling the story in the background, so it's all good.

How are y'all?


PS

I monitored the SB for research [kind of] and all I learned is that a blackout can turn the tide of a game... and apparently, Beyonce performed well in halftime, lolz. Ravens won, so I'm happy. XDD


----------



## Sterling (Feb 5, 2013)

I've been writing a lot lately. You guys ought to check out the paper one of my characters is "writing" on magical theory in Terrestria. I'll post the link to my drive for ya'.

The full story. This is version two. I like it a lot better than number one.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SpyV5qjWOaBDyDQ_78Ta31vEUcD3bptdpFk3wIB5BPI/edit?usp=sharing

Magic - An Introduction
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BS03QR5UolGpVXF54NPpFYEMJpw1eezpVm6db7XYhS4/edit?usp=sharing


----------



## Shinigami357 (Feb 23, 2013)

Hey guys! How are y'all?!

Anyway, just a tad bit of ranting here... I personally have lost every ounce of respect I had for MS Office. I just recently got this nagging problem with their microsoft office starter and it is a dead end so impermeable, it's more like a freaking black hole [in that you can't retrace your steps short of doing a system restore].

Now I am a proud user of an open-source 'productivity suite' that [thankfully] can open/save in MS's noxiously MS Office-locked file types. Darn things are clingy bitches and I really wouldn't mess with them if I had a choice, but since my entire body of work [so to speak] is in .docx, I have little choice in the matter, really.

So... writing update... Erm, I'm writing as of the moment [took a pause to post/rant here]. It really hasn't been a good week, what with getting sick and the friggin weather and the aforementioned fail of my previous word processor. I was relegated to reading [and playing, among other things] mostly.

Part 2's doing swell, though. Well, chapter 2 is kind of awkward, but that was the 'feel' I was going for anyway, so no complaints there, really. I reckon I'll be up my nose in chapter 3 soon [knock on wood] and after that, well, who knows. Pent-up frustration can bring along creative momentum at times [so says the easily-frustrated one].

Anyway, me mum's out of town for the foreseeable future [read: the weekend] so I might [again, hopefully] get better progress, whilst sacrificing slumber.

So... How is everybody?

PS

Right... the less anyone mentions Valentine's Day to me, the better.


----------



## Sterling (Feb 23, 2013)

Let's see here... I got a job. Began a Nuzlocke Challenge. Began a journal of said challenge. Posted said journal to several sites. Re-wrote the journal into a Novelization of said challenge. Re-posted what I posted originally and flew into the sun... Like a baus.

In fact, I think I'll post what I have here in the guild. I hope you guys enjoy. 



Spoiler: The Beginning of...



The door of fate stood in front of me. Its handles beckoned me to grasp and open it. Each step I took rang out among the cold stone pillars as clear as a bell echoing across the land. *Boom! Boom! Boom! Come closer. Boom! Just one more step. BOOM! Open me and seize this moment of grandiose proportions.* As I grabbed the doors and flung them open, a white light engulfed me and the sound of a crowd filled my ears…

Blinded by the white light, I was confused as I awoke. The moving van had stopped and I stared into the kind eyes of my mother.

“We’re home April.”

*April’s Nuzlocke Adventure*

I heard the clap of a door. Two large Pokémon appeared behind my mother and began to carefully grab boxes. She smiled at me and said, “Why don’t you go check out your room upstairs. The movers already brought your things to your room and unpacked them.”

I smiled back in reply and she turned around to direct the movers. _Hoenn… I wonder what sort of surprises it will have in store for me._ I hopped lightly to the ground and shielded my eyes from the midday sun. _Well it had better have surprises. This town “Littleroot” seems incredibly dull._

I observed the windswept plains a bit longer before I turned to my new home. It was a small cottage just big enough for two. My mom had purchased it in order to be closer to dad… _I don’t know what she sees in that man. He’s never home and he hasn’t sent money back like he’d promised to. I swear he loves his Pokémon more than her._

The interior was sparsely furnished with a small kitchen to the left. The movers were efficient indeed. Already the couch and TV had been unpacked.  Under my mother’s expert direction the Pokémon had even hooked up the cable and ceiling fan.

My feet dully thumped on the carpeted stairwell as I made my way to my room. I smiled. It was set up the same way it had been at our place across the sea. Besides the clock, everything was set up and raring to go. Before I headed downstairs, I rewound the springs and set it to the proper time. There. Now it’s as if I’d never left.

“Thank you for your help,” she said as she handed two small bags of treats to the Pokémon. “Bye now. Tell your superiors that I’ve wired payment to their account.” 

When she had closed the door I spoke up, “You know Pokémon can’t really talk right?”

“Honey, you know that isn’t true. Once you get to know a person, you can understand him without even hearing his words.” A longing look came into her eyes as she continued, “It’s much the same with Pokémon. Even if we don’t speak the same language we can still understand each other.”

_Pfft. She’s probably right, but until I get my own Pokémon though I’ll reserve my own judgment. _

“That reminds me. Why don’t you go talk to Professor Birch. His lab is right here in town. Maybe he’ll give you your own Pokémon.”

“My own… You mean it?”

She smiled and said, “Yes I do. Your eighteenth birthday was last week. You’re old enough to take care of yourself, so why not a Pokémon of your own.”

“Okay! I’ll go right now!” As I said that I ran into the door in my excitement. “Ow, first I have to get the door open though.” I could hear her laughter as I ran. It was good to hear that again.

The hulk of the lab could be seen clearly in the midday sun. The large double door entrance opened effortlessly and I walked in. The aid on duty stopped me before I continued inside. “The professor is currently out doing research.” His spotless lab coat rustled as he stirred the liquid he was distilling. “His son should be home, why don’t you go ask him where he is?”

“Thanks. I think I’ll do just that.”

I remembered the house next door to mine and headed towards it. It looked much the same but considerably bigger. I knocked on the door and entered. I spotted Birch’s wife in the kitchen and called out to her, “I need to talk to your son, is he home?”

She smiled and pointed to the upstairs before she turned back to her duties. My feet again thudded dully against the carpet on the stairs. When I walked into his room, nobody was there… aside from a pokéball anyway. When I went to take a peek at which Pokémon he had, I heard footsteps running towards me.

A boy my age barged in and yelled, “What are you doing in my room!”

I smiled and casually said, “Relax, I came over here to talk to you.” Though he sounded angry, he looked curious.

“To me…? Oh, you must be the girl that moved in next door. My father didn’t tell me how pretty you were.”

I could feel an involuntary blush cross my face at the comment. It wasn’t often I received compliments that earnest. “W-well, I suppose you never asked!”

“No, you’re right.” It looked like he was a bit oblivious. “Anyway, you’re looking for my father right? Well, he’s out researching in the fields…” His voice trailed off as he went to pick up his pokéball. He thrust it into his belt and said, “He should be back by now. I’m preparing for a short jaunt up the road to help with his research so I can’t look for him. By the way I’m Silver and you are…?”

I held out my hand and said, “April.”

He accepted the gesture and said, “Nice to meet you April. If you don’t want to wait, why don’t you check out Route 101. He must have gotten distracted by a rare plant or something. I have to do some things on the computer before I leave so I guess I’ll be seeing you later.”

As I walked out, I noted his attire. It was definitely more rugged than my own. His baggy tan khaki pants were riddled with pockets and pouches and matched his hiking boots. His belt was an unusual one. It looked like a tool belt, but with half the pouches. His left side instead had a row of magnets with a single pokéball taking up a slot. I made a mental note to ask where he got it. His shirt was just a black T-Shirt, but it was also secured with a similar belt like the one at his waist. He also carried a rucksack on his back. The last unusual thing was his Silver hair. Silver indeed. I like his hair.

As I left I called out, “Bye, see you again Lily!”

“Be careful April!”

The town exit wasn’t more than a thirty second walk away. Really it wasn’t even a town, but I digress. As I drew close I could hear the frantic screams of a little girl. What the… I broke into a dash. The pathetic sight that greeted me almost made me laugh. The youthful professor had been cornered in a tree by a small dog Pokémon named Poochyena. The sounds had evidentially come from him.

He spotted me and yelled, “You there, grab the crowbar from my bag and help me!”

A crowbar… What kind of Pokémon professor carries a crowbar? I rummaged through the discarded pack on the ground. When I couldn’t find a crowbar I said, “There’s no crowbar, only a Pokémon!’

“Then use it! I’m losing my grip as we speak!”

I snickered a little and tossed the pokéball onto the ground. “Go Pokémon!”

A small birdlike creature appeared. It was the color of flames, deep orange and bright yellow. “Torchic,“ it cooed.

“Hmm, you’re Torchic right? Well, let’s save the professor then! Use tackle!”

The little bird lowered itself into an attack stance. His talon clawed at the ground slightly before he ran full steam ahead. The small black dog had its back turned and had no idea that the furious feather storm behind it was about to strike. Then it hit him full force.

The dog tumbled head over heels from the force of the strike. When he regained his footing and got up, he growled at Torchic. He became hesitant to strike, but I urged him on for another tackle. This time there was the crunch of bone. Two ribs poked through the pup’s chest. Spurts of blood squirted upon the ground at each breath. He was not long for this world.

At his final heave, he went silent. The professor dropped to the ground and said, “Thank you…?”

“April,” I said as I extended my hand.

He took it and said, “Ah, you’re from the family that moved in today. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to greet you and your mother, but I simply had to get this trek done… No thanks to that damned dog.” Torchic yawned and curled up at my feet. “Wow, the little blighter’s taken a shine to you. He doesn’t even do that around me and I caught the little bastard. Haha! Why don’t you keep him as a token of my appreciation mate.”

“Honest?”

“Yep, meet me at my lab after you get some rest. I have something I’d like you to do.” He picked up his rucksack and walked back towards Littleroot. Just before he rounded the corner, he turned and said, “Why don’t you name him?” After the suggestion he chuckled and disappeared from sight.

“Name you huh?” The now napping chick seemed perfectly peaceful as he nestled between my feet. “Why don’t I call you Ace.” His head jerked to attention. He answered my questioning look with a joyful squawk. “Then It’s settled Ace. Let’s head to the professor’s lab then. We have something to do.”


----------



## Shinigami357 (Mar 12, 2013)

Hey guys.

So, here are a few [I think] things I want to talk about at the moment...

For a while, I've had as much progress at writing anything as a blind, illiterate, world-hating person without any imagination. So, yeah, it kind of sucked. However, I have had a few story ideas. Funny, I always have ideas I want to write, but I can't seem to finish any when I start them...

So, figuring that I have only every finished two stories, am in the process of rewriting the 'novel' coz I think it sucks while trying to write the sequel [both unsuccessfully, as you may have gathered]. The other is a short story, that weirdly enough, I think of as my best fiction as of the moment, considering I dislike short fiction.

An idea then arrived from idea-land... which is to write a short story, a prequel of sorts to my first 'novel'. I think I've been away from this universe I first created damn near a year ago, so maybe a short narrative with fewer characters and continuity checks will let me ease back in better.

Also, as it focuses on a freaking battle, it lets me dish out more action, which is something I've been missing in this continuity, feeling there is more 'drama' than is strictly necessary [a caveat of writing mostly teenaged characters]. No angst here, just two opposing sides wanting no more than to see the other side in pieces.

So, that's that. How is everyone?


----------



## Sterling (Mar 12, 2013)

Pretty good. I'm making headway on my story. I scrapped about 20k more words though and I'm quite sad about that. :/ I got a job too so there's less time to write. I also update my story every Sunday on my FP page in my sig.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Mar 14, 2013)

So, updating coz writing this stuff gives me more motivation to keep going...

Anyway, short story's moving along pretty fine. I do have to divulged [and therefore invent] more of the futuristic, alternate universe tech and weaponry my characters use. Good thing about sci fi and speculative fiction in general, it doesn't raise too many eyebrows with these things.

And then there's, uh, well, my character. He's not a nice guy at all, not in this one, killing men, women, children, even his allies, coz that's what a supersoldier is supposed to do [if ordered to]. I mean, the character archetype is a dime a dozen in fiction, but I think it's kind of misused to the point that a little dumb luck wipes out a hundred of them, which isn't quite 'super', really.

I mean, ok, the first story I really started to write seriously was horror, so killing off characters who were written specifically to die shouldn't be a big deal. The characterization just makes me cringe a little. But then, if I can get any reader at all to see the character as he was meant to be, I guess it's a fair trade-off, right?

Now, the thing is... it's really, really short. I'm just about two-thirds of the way through [unless a few more ideas present themselves] and it's only at 2300+ words. To compare, eventuality was at 8k+. Of course, it's not like I'm going to dilute the story for the sake of a darned word count or anything but still... Hm...

How's it over there?

PS

The title's "Black Border" btw. It turns out it might actually add some depth to the first two stories... or foreshadowing, at least.


----------



## Sterling (Mar 14, 2013)

Fine, fine, I'm getting a lot of feedback on my stories from multiple sources, so I'm improving massively.


----------



## Wolvenreign (Mar 25, 2013)

New "The Bound and The Broken" coming soon-ish!


----------



## Shinigami357 (Apr 1, 2013)

So, reading Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk and, um... It's kind of sick, yeah?



Spoiler: blah blah



Guts hasn't messed me up as badly as the reviews say it should, but then I watched The Final Destination, so I'd sort of seen the same thing, and it didn't shake me up that badly. We'll see how the other stories go.


 
And, anyway, besides, that, I'm looking through my 'body of work' [most of it unfinished] to see if anything there sparks, sizzles, glows... Anything. It's like my brain's tapped out. There is, like, zero motivation there. I don't even know why. Hm...

Maybe coz my brain's telling me to write something and I'm not listening? Kind of have that feeling, somehow. Then again, so many ideas, no motivation. Kinda sucks. Ah, well, whatever works, I guess... Need to get my ass in gear, somehow [gets into lotus position to meditate].

Can you believe a quarter of the year's gone and passed into history already? Damn. Well, happy April Fool's Day and all that whatnot.


----------



## Shinigami357 (Apr 20, 2013)

Yo, peeps! Happy 4/20, I guess? Is that even a big thing any more [or at all]? I just saw it on FB, really.

Um, so yeah, finally finished ch. 2 of Anomalies. Had to slog it though the first two chapters of this one because they are all fallout from the first story's ending. It's all of 5k+ words, but it feels like 20k+, that's how tedious it felt. Next chapters are all story again, so hopefully that bodes better.

Man, my last post was the beginning of April... Now it's the 21st [here] already. God. Damn. Time, must thee mock me so?


----------



## Sterling (Apr 21, 2013)

I just hit 25k words, and 6k on my prequel. Pretty cool, keep it up dude.


----------



## Shinigami357 (May 1, 2013)

Hey, look, it's May...

Anyway, let it be said that the internet is killing off my story-writing time. Well, not really... I kind of have to try and watch over my one year-old nephew, too. I'm not doing a good job, but, eh, I'll get better [I should damn well hope so, anyway].

Well, at least the story's going in my head once more, so there's that. Just gotta try and squeeze in more words per minute, I guess...

Also, Summer in here and by the gods, is it hot... Our consumption of carbonated beverages [with ice, sometimes] and the amount of prayers for rain have increased exponentially. In a month and a half, we'd be swamped in floods again. What joy.

So, how're y'all guys?


----------



## Sterling (May 2, 2013)

Great, I'm busy with writing, and I'm up to 25k words with a weekly update schedule. I got a new computer so I'm a bit occupied by a fully modded Fallout: New Vegas. :L


----------



## astrangeone (May 7, 2013)

Haven't been writing lately because of summer job looky loo, but I also have a spring course I have to worry about as well.  Kind of annoying, but it's a good thing.  I've mostly been reading a lot of Sue Grafton and Terry Pratchett (the Monstrous Reigament book was pretty good - but too much gender politics in it!).

I've been playing MH3U - I'd probably do a novel version of that.


----------



## Sterling (May 7, 2013)

Sounds sweet, would it be like an RRP?


----------



## Shinigami357 (May 8, 2013)

Hey guys. Not much to report except we had a brownout/blackout [or "power outage" to all you non-Filipinos] yesterday, so in the sweltering heat we were all trooped outside, whistling fervently for wind [that's... kind of a thing here]. Power outages are good news when the [automated] election is less than a week away, so hooray for our ass-backward country!!!

Anyway, somehow Anomalies has gotten to chapter 5, and just about 300 words shy of 10k words. Given that book 1 was at 60k total [barring the inevitable rewrite/trimming/expansion] this is pretty long for 5 mostly short chapters. Also, my 'weird chapter names bug' hit me again, and chapter 5 if now memetically titled 'overly awkward dinner I', which is more horrifying given the thought there's gonna be an 'overly awkward dinner II' sometime later on. I'm sticking with it because, um, it kind of describes the chapter in a non-vague way, which is good... right?

Also, writing 'fluff' or 'lemons' [these are fanfic terms, btw] or... well, whatever they call those supposed to be sweet scenes between main character and main character's love interest, is overly tedious... except when you know you're writing it for a serious case of mood backlash later on, in which case, it's kind of fun. Somewhat disturbing, but fun. That's the reason for the 'Anomalies' title after all - shit hits the fan. And as you all know, I love writing those exact same parts.

So, with that over with... pardon my noobness, but what's MH3U? [hides in shame]


EDIT:

BTW, prob the best [throwaway] line I've ever written for a non-central character: "What, teenage hormones and stunted emotional capacities are my fault now?"

If it sounds like a jab at the target audience for 'mainstream literature' nowadays [read: Young Adult] that's because it is.


----------



## Sterling (May 9, 2013)

I believe it stands for Monster Hunter 3 - United. Anyway, I just hit 26k words on my own main work. I'm running up on around 10k words on my secondary project. 

@Shinigami357: You might consider posting your work on Fiction Press. There's tons of great writers there that could help you with feedback.


----------



## Chary (May 9, 2013)

Chary (Or Chary5325, if someone's already taken the latter)
Mostly narratives, though from time to time, I like writing poetry
I've spoken English all my life.
Oh, dear. I'm active here everyday, on the hour. With school having been easy this year, I haven't had much to do besides log in here and post stuff.
Well, with all the time on my hands, I should be writing a whole lot more than I am right now. I guess I write maybe...once every two weeks? I really need to start writing more.
The following is something I wrote today, it's just a small excerpt of something I may or may not continue. Sorry if it's too short.



Spoiler



Footfalls hammered across the shadowy road as a young boy frantically ran down the street, begging for help. Not a single person dared look him in the eye as he flew past them. No assistance would come his way, not this time. Especially after what he'd done. He tried fruitlessly calling out for help once again, but his lungs were far too constricted with fear to make anything other than a small whimper. In his mind, he screamed, but none but himself could hear it. He had to keep running, he couldn't be caught, not here, not now.

A small bundle lay shivering, clutched in the boy's arms. He had to keep running, not for himself, but for what he carried with him. If he kept running, maybe, just maybe, they could get out of this alive. He'd have a chance to set right the mistake he made, if only he could keep running! His legs slowed, his breaths became shallow, and his chest was alight in pain. The boy desperately wanted to stop, if but for a moment, just to gasp in some needed air. This pleasure would not be allowed, though, and he continued down the road, his pursuer inching closer.

The bundled creature weakly lifted its arm, reassuring the boy who held it. Tears leaked out of both of their eyes, knowing well of the fate that awaited them, should they be captured. The boy, renewed with new-found energy to protect his charge, ran faster down the street. The man that followed behind him snarled in fury, and began to catch up, determined to end this chase. They ran endlessly across the twisting path, further into the darkness beyond.


(If I find my poetry book, I might add some to this post)


----------



## Sterling (May 9, 2013)

Welcome to the Guild! Feel free to share and discuss to your heart's content. Sadly enough most of our members aren't as active as they used to. The most common posters are Shinigami357, Astrangeone, and I. Since I devote most of my time writing, I barely have any time to completely devote to the guild anymore.


----------



## Sterling (May 31, 2013)

Hey guys, if you're interested in taking on other writers in a tourney, I have great news.



> Hey guys, on the Fiction Press forum, "RPG, Anime, Own Stories Continued" we're having a tournament. Basically, two writers duke it out in an orchestrated fight against each other's characters. I think it's great experience for any budding authors here, (or even experienced ones) because not only do you have to write an action scene between two characters (one familiar, one not), but also write the other's character (which can get messy).
> 
> We're in need of participants. Enough to fill eleven more slots. If you want to enter, go here:
> 
> ...


----------



## Shinigami357 (May 31, 2013)

Sterling said:


> Hey guys, if you're interested in taking on other writers in a tourney, I have great news.


 
By the Gods, I'd love to join. But, but, but... Internet credits are hard to come by at the moment, so 

Also, I'm not in Fiction Press yet. I mean, I have a FF.net account, but I haven't looked into Fiction Press yet. Hm... Choices, choices...


----------



## Sterling (Jul 30, 2013)

Just to update, I have lost my first round in the tourney, but won the first round in the loser's bracket. If all goes well, I will rise to defeat all in a fit of glory and awesomeness.


----------



## wrettcaughn (Aug 17, 2013)

Spoiler



Syncopated
Abbreviated passing time
Abandoned in the course of rhyme
The finger on the pulse of all
Fails to find the beating

Embracing fears from long ago
Of histories past and stories told
Awaken in the grasp of all
Still searching for the meaning

A brave new world unraveling
In rhythm with the song it sings
Intensified and climaxing
Amongst the young and broken

Perforate the finest line
Breathe in low, exhale sublime
And never notice anything
Until it is torn open

Syncopated, empty lives
Carry on the empty lies
The finger on the pulse of all
Still searches for the beating


----------



## Wolvenreign (Sep 7, 2013)

Just completed chapter 1 of The Plan.

http://gbatemp.net/threads/the-plan-chapter-one-the-forever-game.354268/


----------



## ShinyJellicent12 (Mar 21, 2014)

I'm so sorry for not positing in so long! I've been busy with school and stuff so I kinda forgot about GBATemp for a while 
I've been working on a LOT of books lately, and I'll post a snippet of my main novel: *Operation CERES.* I hope you enjoy! 


Spoiler



_For all those who are unique and gifted! 
Take a test and you could qualify to be part of CeresLabs!
March 7th @ CeresLabs; 2:00 P.M.
We hope to see you there!_
I reviewed the paper in my hand as I stood in front of a set of glass doors. I then looked up at the building. It was made of slick, charcoal material. Windows dotted the front of the building. 
But it was as if I was the only one who noticed it.
I had seen the paper pinned to a pole near the bus stop, and I couldn't help but take it and see. That was a week ago. Now, I was standing in front of the building. 
It wasn't like me to do things like this. But something, something had compelled me to come here. Alfred had also said it was a great opportunity.  
I took a deep breath, and entered the door.
~~~
Instantly, I was met with an ambient waiting room. The dark room was lit by scented candles, filling the room with a pleasant smell. The seats bordered the room, and two rows of chairs were back-to-back in the middle of the dark-floored and dark-walled room. At the back end of the room was a door to the right and a large glass window that gave a view of the office behind the door. Receptionists were walking around with stacks of paper.
I then surveyed the kids. It turns out I wasn't the only one there. There were 48 kids, including me. That reduced my chance heavily.
The receptionist beckons to me, and I go up to her as she opens the sliding pane.
"Hello, I assume you're here to sign up for the CeresLabs challenge?" she inquires.
"Yep, I am." 
"Good, I just need you to fill out this form. You're lucky, you're the last one we're accepting for the challenge." she hands me a clipboard.
That meant my chances were 1/48. Not shabby, in case they were accepting more than one individual.
I sat down at the last available seat, next to a blonde girl with headphones blasting pop music. It was quite annoying.
"Do you mind turning your music down?" I sharply called to her. 
"What's it to you?" she responded nastily.
As the room buzzed with activity, I could tell many of the children were here with their friends. It didn't bother me that I was alone; friendship is next to useless in situations like these. 
Suddenly, a tall man in his seemingly mid-30s walked into the room. His polished black shoes clicked as they hit the floor, silencing the group.
"Good afternoon, everybody. My name is Dr. Xenirith, and I am the chief administrator of CeresLabs. I applaud all of you for making it here today. We will be conducting several tests on each of you to determine whether you are eligible for this program. If any of you are unsure of your ability or are highly against this, please leave the building now."
A girl with pigtails slowly rose from her seat and exited the room, followed by seven other individuals. All that was left was 42 of us. 
"Interesting. Well, if the rest of you will follow me?" he beckoned us towards the door.
In single file we marched down a long hallway to a glass elevator. We all filed inside and rose to the second floor. 
The second floor was a large square shape, There were 2 rows of 24 chairs, with 12 chairs back-to-back with another set of 12 chairs.Each chair had a small, square table stemming from the gray floor. Mr. Xenirith instructed us to take a seat.
I sat at the far left chair in the back of the room. The girl who was listening to music plopped down next to me. 
"You know, there's 6 other seats available..." I muttered.
"Excuse me?" she snapped
"Now, place your hands on the black square. It should flash green several times, and beep once done." the administrator stated.
I slowly placed my hand on the black square, and it began flashing green. I heard beeps chiming from others, but mine wasn't beeping. It kept flashing, until it finally beeped. I believe I was the last one that received a beep.
"Great, now follow me to the next stage." Mr. Xenirith beckoned us towards the elevator.
The third floor was modeled similar to the second floor. Dotted around the walls were six round elevators like the one we had come in; two on each side of the room. Each elevator had a corresponding color above it, distinguishing it from the rest. The remaining parts of the wall served as windows that gave a panoramic view of the area around us.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 7, 2014)

Hey guys, guess what? After long arduous hours, I've finally finished the majority of the first book of Terrestria. I'm now finishing up my third draft, and was hoping someone from our ranks would read though and give me an impressions review like I might see on Amazon.

I plan on going into line editing and stuff once I'm finished with this draft and hopefully start talking to agents to seek publication.


----------



## Social_Outlaw (Jun 8, 2014)

Names: Jackofalltrades/6SoulTriox/Logan97
Expertise: Short and long Stories.
Language: English
I'm on GBAtemp everyday.
I write rarely, but lately, I have really been getting good at it.

I don't have small stories, but I do have a few reviews
The Suffering Review
Vampire The Masquerade Bloodlines

Here you go, the story is short, but I'm thinking about making it a series though 


Spoiler



As little Azure Rohan (The last sane soul) with no memory, wakes up from an abandon village called “Uzana”, he suddenly hears gruesome voices, and walks outside, and see demons in ahead of him, murdering the crazy poor people for enjoyment. In an instant, he runs further away into the mist, but only to see a red eyed enemy in front of him, gazing at him with a devilish look. As little Azure runs away for his life, the red eyed enemy yells “You'll thank me later”, and attacks little Azure precisely through his heart, with his crimson deformed sword. Little Azure yells in pains, and suddenly dies from all the blood he sees. The red eyed enemy quickly takes little Azure soul, along with his body, and makes a portal to the underworld, to meet the demon king named “Dega”.


----------



## Sterling (Jun 8, 2014)

Added to the OP. The guild has pretty much died out since its inception (I blame my laziness), but you're welcome to share your work here.


----------



## MegaAce™ (Jun 8, 2014)

Sterling said:


> Added to the OP. The guild has pretty much died out since its inception (I blame my laziness), but you're welcome to share your work here.


 

Nah, you shouldn't blame yourself for that .
I'm actually planning to write some bigger story, but I just can't seem to catch a spark and start writing it.  Got any idea how to find motivation?


----------



## Sterling (Jun 8, 2014)

MegaAce™ said:


> Nah, you shouldn't blame yourself for that .
> I'm actually planning to write some bigger story, but I just can't seem to catch a spark and start writing it.  Got any idea how to find motivation?


 
Motivation is hard to find. My advice is to plot it out, and when you've got the bigger details hammered out just write it. You can write a novel in 30 minutes a day, but you'll never reach the end if your write when you simply feel like it.


----------



## Sterling (Jul 18, 2014)

Man. I just looked back over the early days of the guild and I teared up little. Curse my lack of commitment. This could have been something great, but I just couldn't cut it. Meh, at the very least I decided to look over my old work. I actually managed to clean up a few of my shorts and I'm considering re-posting them.


----------

