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  1. Michael stared at the woman in the mirror. He supposed averaging four hours of sleep over the past two weeks wasn't ideal, but hallucinations seemed excessive. She seemed to blink when he did, mimicking his other movements perfectly. Even the number of teeth seemed to match as he ran his tongue over each one. When he reached for the long dark hair that flowed over her shoulders in the reflection and grabbed an unexpected handful of hair, he took in a slow, controlled breath. The reflection smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling and drawing attention to the faint bags that formed beneath. He felt his lips part. “That’s enough for now.” The voice was feminine, static faint beneath the lilting sounds. “Rest your eyes, won’t you?” Michael went to sleep. === Something stank. Corben tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but was met with utmost resistance from his body. He groaned and took a mental step back, focusing his energy into opening his eyes. It was painful, like soap rubbed under his eyelids. His arms wouldn’t cooperate long enough to let him rub the pain out, so he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out the pooled tears. They tumbled over his cheeks hotly and still his eyes burned. After a few orchestrated blinks, he managed to stabilise his vision long enough to examine his surroundings—or, at least, realise he was staring at the open predawn sky sandwiched between towering grey brick. The smell hadn’t left either. He tried to move again. It felt like he was lying on garbage bags, but he couldn’t get past how much his eyes hurt. Whether the bags were filled with pizza boxes or rotten fruit didn’t make much difference—he needed to get up. Corben grit his teeth and tried to launch his upper body forward. When his back seized with pain instead of lifting, he swore he could crack a tooth. He clumsily groped the bags beneath him, trying to force some feeling into his limbs long enough to figure out what he was lying on. What little he could feel through the plastic was immediately recognisable. Bottles. Broken bottles. Corben laughed.
  2. Tangential Notes: To keep myself from despairing too deeply over the editing and rewriting process of 39 [cries deeply], I'm going to be working on a rather self-indulgent story. When I was 13, I started working on my first large-scale story. I finished it at just under 45k--or, rather, I finished the first part of it at 45k. I have an outline that I had made with over 100 points and it is batshit insane (as one might expect from teenaged me)--there's time travel and at some point it calls for the characters to establish a secret base on Pluto. The whole thing is pretty inane--why Pluto? Why not any of the other planets? Why do I have a planet with 36 moons? We just don't know. (The answer, of course, is that I liked to start millions of projects too big for my intellect and attention span.) Why are they even time travelling? (This is never addressed in the outline, yet they travel to the past at least four different times.) Still, I felt bad I had this huge cast of characters left in limbo, and because they were my very first original characters, they have been in limbo for ages. Although I doubt I'll ever return to the original storyline to salvage it, I'll be treating it as mostly canon. Anyway, the title is lame and will probably change. I might do a sign-up type story later set in this universe, once I figure out how to make my aliens less lame. I like bandwagons. I wanna be cool too. === Chapter One [Part One] The bedroom was cosy, bordering on spartan with its limited personal touches. A glass vase with two sun-faded paper flowers attached to bits of wire. An errant comb, a few strands of hair woven into its teeth, next to a small stack of dogeared magazines long since out of date. Windows curtained and shut, the bright sunlight outside was barred entry. The walls were blank, a faded beige that might have been white at some point. Blank, save for the wall behind the bed. A mirror, wall to wall and floor to ceiling, reflected the room in its entirety. Its surface was clean and unbroken, not a single scratch or speck of dust to be found despite the headboard pushed directly against it, the sheets and comforter on the mattress in disarray. Felicia’s voice came through the closed door from the hallway, words dampened to murmurs. The door was pushed open, marked by a slight pop as it moved past the frame. She pressed her phone to her ear with her shoulder, a bowl of cereal in her hands. Shadows had formed beneath her eyes, her dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She set the bowl on the nightstand and pushed the blankets aside. “No, I just got back from the lab. What’s up?” She sat down on the bed, perching her feet on the edge of the bed frame. “Tim.” She let out a breath. “Tim, stop. I don’t think she hates you. Your sister just turned, what, thirty? Thirty-one. She’s been in the spotlight since she was your age—that’s an entire decade in front of the camera, of her name being plastered everywhere in magazines. She’s not as young as she used to be.” Felicia switched the phone to her other ear and picked up the bowl. She popped a few spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. The flakes were beginning to get soggy. “Much as I love to hear you suffer,” she said, putting the bowl down, “I don’t think that’s why you called me this early on a Sunday. Early for you, anyway. What’s going on?” There was a pause as she listened, a grin spreading across her face as she snickered. “Are you kidding me? Come on, isn’t Steve going? Aren’t you guys—” Another pause. The smile on her face immediately disappeared. “Oh. Oh. Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I hope they work it out. Have you asked Amy to go with you? Not my sister, Le—Bev’s daughter. She’s in town for a few weeks, isn’t she?” Another pause. Felicia rubbed her forehead. “Figures she’d already have plans. All right, all right. I’ll go with you. It’s tomorrow night? Okay. I’ll see you at seven.” She hung up the phone and sighed, staring at the blank screen for a while. Her eyes flicked to her reflection in the mirror. She put a hand to the glass and, for a moment, she thought that it began to ripple beneath her fingers. Something in her stomach seized and excitement crept up on her. She closed her eyes. All she felt was its surface, solid as ever. She scolded herself silently for getting worked up and turned on her phone. The background was somewhat distorted, just a touch too wide for the phone’s resolution. It was a picture of her as a teenager, with a ridiculous head of multi-coloured streaks she absolutely insisted was vital to her personality. Leon was carrying her on his back, a goofy grin on his face. She frowned. Here she found herself, sitting on a bed that had seen more people than she would like to admit, a mostly full bowl of cereal waiting for her on the nightstand, staring at an old picture… And all she could think about was what she was going to wear tomorrow. A welcome distraction to be sure; it would be nice to be able to get away from the house. Felicia cast a sidelong glance at the mirror. Among other things. She couldn’t shake what had happened. The mirror moved—she was convinced of that much. She dropped the phone on the bed and stood up, taking the bowl. What more was there for her to do? Wait in front of the mirror for days like she used to? She was years away from sixteen—talking with Tim reminded her of that much. Of course, she was also years away from thirty. A small smile touched her lips. She left the room, closing the door behind her, pulling it roughly to get it to stay shut.
  3. These are the gifts I made for people in the Homestuck Secret Santa. They're all varying lengths, ratings, and quality (mostly closer to "sucks" than "good"). I haven't written fan fiction in, like, forever, so I have no idea how to write characters that aren't out of character, whoops. I'll split these into two separate posts once the time limit goes by and leave it at four and four each, unless anyone would rather them all in their own post. And if you think any of my ratings or summaries are bunk after reading, let me know and I'll adjust accordingly. Waiting Summary: Kanaya waits for Rose to show up. Rating: K There was surprisingly little to busy herself with, even in the confines of the common area where various piles of things had accumulated, apparently growing with each day that passed. Kanaya rubbed her bare arms, pursing her lips as she looked around the room, her eyes darting to the doorways every few seconds. Every little sound set her at edge, ready to spring from her seat. It never failed to disappoint. Kanaya decided it was time once again to take count of the various books left lying around. Pile after pile, left haphazardly on almost every available surface that wasn’t occupied by some other pile of objects. Cleanliness never seemed to be much of a priority on the meteor, nor did any sort of coordination when it came to the rugs, but that she could forgive. At the least it made the place feel like a home and less of a laboratory, though some had been worn so thin they did nothing against the hard metal beneath. Rose still hadn't arrived. How much time had passed? She tried not to think of it, but the ticking of the clock behind her tempted her into turning around. An hour. Sixty minutes. Second after second come and gone. Kanaya had spent that time on the sofa, crossing and uncrossing her legs, flipping through the occasional book, arranging and rearranging bottles. After the passage of an hour, she supposed it was high time to admit to herself something was wrong. Not that it made much sense. Rose had been the one to set everything up and she certainly wasn’t the type to be so tardy, especially for an event of her own planning. At first she thought nothing of it as she got dressed, slipping on her daily attire. If Rose hadn't bothered with furnishing any details, she couldn't have been planning anything out of the ordinary. Doubt sank in as she thought of her first interactions with Rose, of the work she put into understanding human sarcasm in order to have some semblance of a conversation. It never stopped being puzzling to her, the things Rose said and did. Dave was equally puzzling, but he was easy to ignore as long as he kept his voice down--which he so often did--and didn't cross paths with Karkat--which seemed to happen less and less. Kanaya adjusted her skirt, vaguely unsatisfied with what she put on. She had picked through the rest of her clothing, trying to decide exactly what Rose meant. Was it a date? Was it part of her romantic machinations? And what if it wasn't? Kanaya put aside thoughts of wearing nicer apparel--it would be easier to explain being underdressed than overdressed. And yet here she was on the sofa in casual attire, trying to convince herself she had made the right choice. She leant back, letting out a slow breath as she stared at the ceiling, willing it to offer her something in the way of answers. From her vantage point she could see part of the clock. Kanaya watched the second hand move along its predestined path, step by step, pausing at every hash mark. She watched until the clock rang, signalling the top of the hour. Worse, it signalled she had been staring at the clock for almost fifteen minutes. She crossed her arms, huffing slightly. Why would Rose take so long to show up? Perhaps this was not where they were supposed to meet? Perhaps it was an elaborate ruse, to see just how much she was willing to put up with? It wasn't as though the meteor was particularly large. It wouldn't take much time to get up and look, for Rose to poke her head in and ask for a bit of time as she got ready. Of course, Kanaya had considered doing the same herself. It wouldn't be fair if she didn't. But what if she got up to look for Rose and they ended up just missing each other, doing so for the duration of the search? Such contrived shenanigans seemed to be the norm, even before she met Rose, before she knew what a human was. Not that it explained what was taking so long. If Rose was looking for her, she surely would have come across her sitting in the common room. Granted, she might have caught her trying out various seating positions and, more embarrassingly, facial expressions. For what felt like hours, Kanaya thought she would practise holding conversations with Rose, running through different scenarios. She mouthed words, scripting her responses and actions for when Rose finally arrived. And when she tired of that, she flopped onto the couch, her arm across her eyes, and tried to nap. It wasn't much of a success. She got up almost immediately from her attempted nap, spending the next block of time fixing her hair and taming rebellious strands. Frustrating. Absolutely frustrating. To sit there for--Kanaya turned to look at the clock, rolling her eyes as she settled back into position--to sit there for two and a half hours and not even be afforded the simple respect of being informed of what was going on. Just frustrating. She got up from the couch, hands balled into fists as she stormed across the room. Heat rose in her face, every single step taken carefully and purposefully. Something stopped her from crossing the doorway, from stepping over the threshold. Kanaya thought of the way Rose looked when she set up the whole thing. She remembered the faintest hints in her expressions, the little quirks that betrayed her confidence, telling her that Rose was nervous--perhaps even afraid of rejection. Letting out a calming breath, Kanaya loosened her hands. She stretched her fingers, examining them briefly. Something simply must have gone wrong. That's all there was to it. It just wasn't like Rose to be so late, regardless of the intended purpose of the meeting. Her mind clearer, she stepped through the doorway. Trepidation Summary: Kanaya makes a dress for Rose while Porrim tries to pry information from her. Rating: T Warnings: Hints at ectoincest. Kanaya pinned a bit of green ribbon at the waist of a dusty pink dress, smoothing it against the fabric. "What do you think of this?" She moved to the side, pushing aside a basket of various fabrics, ribbons, and scissors with her foot, allowing Porrim to view the dress in full. She looked up from her book, a scandalous bit of blackrom literature she had plucked out of Karkat's collection. "This for Rose?" She stood from the chaise, slipping in her bookmark to keep her place, and approached Kanaya. "Perhaps," she replied, looking down at the dress. The faintest hint of uncertainty crossed her face, gone as soon as it came. "I have not yet finalised the design. If nothing else, it will be good practise." Porrim placed a hand at her waist, the other tapping her chin as she examined the dress, walking around the mannequin slowly. "A lighter green may be in order." She bent by the basket, pushing around bits of yarn and spools of thread before pulling out a length of green ribbon, a few shades lighter than the one already pinned to the dress. With a slight grunt, Porrim stood, straightening her dress, before wrapping the ribbon around the mannequin. "What do you make of this colour?" "I will consider it." She smiled, unpinning the current ribbon and setting it back in the basket along with the ribbon Porrim picked out. "I think it time for me to take a break." "It seems you're almost done with the dress." "Perhaps." "No need to doubt yourself," she said, placing a hand on Kanaya's shoulder, a smile crossing her lips. "Rose will appreciate any gift you give her. I hear she almost stood you up. How did your date turn out?" Kanaya cleared her throat and turned away, busying herself with organising the various yards of fabric. Porrim chuckled, settling back into the chaise, picking up her book. She cracked it open, scanning the text briefly for her spot. "'I can do this no longer', she shouted. Dark blood spilt from her lip, a delicious shade of chocolate." She paused, watching for Kanaya's reaction. When Kanaya simply continued to move around fabrics, Porrim resumed, "She threw her against the wall, her forearm pressing against her throat. The highblood laughed, pressing her knee between her assailant's legs, drops of blood staining the fabric of her--" A sudden clatter from across the room broke Porrim's pace, taking her attention from the book. Kanaya was staring, a ball of multicoloured yarn in each hand. "Must you read that aloud?" "Is it bothering you?" The corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk as she stretched her legs on the chaise, the book dangling from her hand as she met the other's gaze. "I thought you liked these." "I enjoy them privately." "Oh?" Porrim arched a brow, swinging her legs off the chaise and stood, leaving the book forgotten on the seat. "I'm not allowed to share in this enjoyment with you?" She approached and stood over her, knowing her presence was still one Kanaya found somewhat imposing. She lowered her voice, taking the yarn from Kanaya's hands, tossing them into a nearby basket. "Does Rose know you, ah, enjoy such literature alone?" Kanaya bit her lip, looking away from her dancestor. "We have our boundaries." "What need have you for boundaries about literature?" Porrim took Kanaya's chin in her hand, turning her face towards her. "Do you also regard her with this sort of trepidation or am I the lone benefactor of such behaviour?" Silence passed between them, little heard aside from their breathing, the shuffling of fabric as they shifted position. "This is uncomfortable," Kanaya said finally, trying to move back from Porrim, as though she were attempting to disappear into the fabric. "It's really none of your business." "I'm simply looking out for you, Kanaya. There's no need to be shy. I'm sure Rose is--" She halted, a devious smile crossing her lips. "Perhaps we could do a bit of roleplay." "Roleplay what?" "Oh, come on, you know. I'll pretend to be Rose and we'll practise how your first time will go about." Kanaya began to shake--Porrim wasn't sure at first if it was from anger or something else until a laugh escaped her lips, allowing her to relax slightly. "Don't laugh. It'll be good practise." "Porrim, I'm not having sex with you--" "I can't believe you would even say such a thing--" "--I don't think Rose would even appreciate it--" "--as though I were some sort of village two-wheeled device--" "--it's just not proper--" No longer interesting in trying to speaking over her, Porrim grabbed Kanaya by the shoulders, pulling her back towards the chaise, and sat her down, pushing aside the book. She took a seat beside her, smoothing the fabric of her dress over her knees. Porrim began to tie up her hair, pulling it off her shoulders, with a bit of ribbon. "Now, let's begin." "I said I'm not--" "Calm down, Kanaya. We're not going to have sex. I just want to help you get over your nervousness." She patted her dancestor on the knee, taking care to make it as amicable a gesture as possible. "It's for the best. We wouldn't want you to freeze up and lose control of the situation, would we?" Porrim smiled brightly, waiting for a response. Kanaya let out a breath, scratching her neck at the edge of her hair. "Very well." She took Porrim's hands in hers, intertwining their fingers. She looked at her fingers, admiring how neat her nails were kept, the way Porrim’s fingers pressed against hers. "Rose,” she said, her voice quiet, “I think things are moving entirely too quickly, and we should proceed with caution." Porrim rolled her eyes and leant towards Kanaya, parting her lips slightly. "I don't think we're moving too quickly at all." She took her hand from Kanaya's and cupped her face, running her thumb across her cheek. "I'm ready for this, Kanaya. Very much so." She sat frozen on the chaise, staring into Porrim's eyes, trying not to look at the way her fangs ever so slightly poked out between her lips, the way her piercings glimmered in the light. She tried not to imagine where the swirls of her tattoos went, if they led to delightfully forbidden places. She tried not to imagine perching Rose between them, kept her mind from considering if that would be a far better gift than a simple dress. Porrim tapped her cheek, bringing her out of her thoughts. "Kanaya? Are you okay?" She smiled and nodded, pulling Porrim's hand from her cheek. "I'm very much okay. And I'm very much certain we're not ready for this." She leant forward, pressing Porrim against the chaise's armrest, pressing her lips against hers. Her hand trailed along Porrim's hip as they kissed, pulling up the fabric of her dress slightly. Kanaya pulled away, still smiling. "I think that's break enough," she said, and stood, returning to her work at the mannequin and leaving Porrim to resume her reading. Game Night Summary: Board games always seem more fun in retrospect than in reality. Dave, Karkat, and Rose try to pass the time on the meteor. Rating: T Game night was an awful idea. For one, the game they were playing right now was entirely too complicated, but if they played yet another round of Chutes and Ladders, Dave was going to seriously consider asking Kanaya to teach him how to sew. At least that would have been a productive use of his time, and while he would never craft a smuppet--nor would he want to--he could make at least some SBaHJ capes. It was called Arkham Horror, a game Rose remembered playing some time ago. Through a series of carefully coordinated shenanigans, they managed to procure a bounty of board games. Karkat didn't care much for the cooperative games, instead thriving on competition. Rose, on the other hand, enjoyed finding ways to bend the rules, making dubious moves that aggravated both Dave and Karkat. "Rose, where does it say in the rules you can reroll? Is that some kind of lesbian power your character has?" Dave flipped through the manual, more halfheartedly than anything. Rose was always the ones who read the rules, leaving the other two at her mercy. "I'm pretty sure if you're fighting against Cthulhu himself, he's not going to dodge an attack and just be like, 'oh, you want a redo? Okay, why the fuck not, I'm only a timeless and immortal god. I got nothing but time, bro'." "It's well within my right to reroll," she said simply, rolling her dice. "We would not have ended up in this situation had you not been so foolhardy the entire game and continuously found yourself lost in time and space." "Some god you turned out to be." Karkat chuckled, picking up the card containing the Elder One's information. "If you had listened to me from the start, we wouldn't have a metric fuckton of gates open, waking up this asshole." He tapped his chin with the card, looking up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes. "It's all beginning to sound very familiar, actually." A die thrown at his head brought his attention back to Dave. "Because your suggestions were bogus, Karkat. My guy wouldn't spend his time cowering in fear from some eldritch abominations. He'd get right in there and use his whip to make them feel emasculated. Whips and guns trump tentacles." "You say this with such certainty, such familiarity with tentacled creatures. And yet here we are, having our collective asses handed to us by the Elder One. Regardless, it seems we have lost the battle for all of mankind yet again. I think you'll find that when it comes to losing these games, we are simply the best there is." Karkat rolled his eyes, shoving the cards and pieces laid out before him onto the game board, knocking over their characters. "Can we play something that isn't a complete waste of our time? Is there nothing in there actually worth playing, something that isn't so complicated it takes hours to learn and even longer to appreciate?" "Let me look," Dave said, pushing around boxes. "Monopoly again? No way." He tossed the box aside, the lid lifting as it landed, revealing the mess of paper money and cards within. "What about this one?" "Dixit? Hand me the instructions." She took the booklet, smoothing her robes as she settled back into position. As she read, Karkat and Dave flipped through the cards. "Is there something in particular about your alien society that finds these kinds of things amusing?" He held up a card, portraying two armoured ants atop a stack of gold coins, attacking each other with swords in their mandibles. "I mean, look at these things, they're absolutely fucking incomprehensible. I might actually prefer to continue to have my ass handed to me in that horrorterror game than do whatever this wretched excuse of a game expects me to do." Rose set the booklet down and collected the cards, shuffling them and handing a small stack each to Dave and Karkat, taking one for herself as well. She set the remaining cards aside. "It appears all you have to do is construct a sentence about one of your cards." "A storytelling game?" Dave got up and started poking through the pile of board games, pushing them aside as he dug deeper. "Never mind, put the game back. I think I can find something cooler than this..." "No, no!" Karkat slapped his hand on the ground, glaring at Dave. "Sit your ass down because we are playing this game. We played everything else in that awful pile." "Jegus, dude, okay." He complied, exchanging looks with his sister. "Didn't think you were into these rabbits so much." He picked up the small wooden rabbit, holding it between two fingers. "You got these things on Alternia? In human culture, these little guys lay eggs filled with baby rabbits and hide them in bushes and trees from predators. When they're born they're made of chocolate, so kids go hunting for them so they can eat them." Karkat scowled, picking a different coloured rabbit. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of, and I've heard more than enough ridiculous things in the miserable, worthless sweeps I have existed." "It's absolutely factual, Karkat," Rose said, smiling. "It was originally something of a religious practice as people once thought consuming these chocolate bunnies would bring them closer to Jegus, but eventually the practice had become so widespread, they had to ban people from hunting these Easter eggs." "Whatever, let's just play this idiotic game and get it over with." "Very well. As I said, you construct a sentence about one of your images. Then you select two cards from your hand, collecting two cards from the others. The other two players will also choose two cards they think are represented best by your sentence. Then the cards are displayed and players, excluding the storyteller, vote with these tokens here..." She paused to hand them small disks, coloured to match their rabbit pieces. "... on which one you think is the card initially chosen. Points will be distributed accordingly. The first to reach the end of this path wins the game, and, presumably, all of the chocolate bunnies." "Wait, are we playing as rabbits or are we wearing rabbit costumes? Because I don't know if I'm down with rabbit cannibalism, even if their babies are completely delicious." "They're wooden pieces! They're not even real! Just start the game, Rose, before I completely lose my shit." Karkat heard Dave mutter something under his breath, shooting a glare in his direction but said nothing. Dave flipped through his cards briefly before setting them down. "Hey man, I just want to be sure what the story is here. I think we all learned an important lesson about storytelling when we played Arabian Nights." "Yeah, the lesson we learnt was you're an absolute failure at reading aloud. Even when you did manage to keep your voice loud enough to hear, you rewrote the whole thing on the spot and turned it into one of your ridiculous raps." "I happened to think they added to the story. Scheherazade could have learned a thing or two about staying alive if she just knew how to drop a beat. It wouldn’t have taken her a thousand nights to convince her murderous husband not to kill her." Rose chuckled, arranging her cards in her hand as she spoke. "I believe her husband would have responded by dropping a sword in her chest, dear brother." "See, Rose agrees with me!" "Oh, don't get me wrong, Karkat. While I believe that Shahryar would not have been cultured enough to appreciate the sicknasty beats his thousandth wife would have surely dropped, it did add a certain flair to the game itself. I especially appreciated when he would tell us in rhyme exactly what happened between Sinbad and the various jinn he encountered. What was it again? I believe there was something about large blue phalluses..." Karkat threw the cards in the air, getting up. "I am not listening to this again!" He crossed the playing area, passing between Rose and Dave, throwing himself into the pile of board games. "I'm taking a nap." Dave lifted a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Right there?" "Of course right here, numbskull." He curled into himself, using Apples to Apples to rest his head upon as he closed his eyes. "What do you think I'm doing? These games are exhausting. You two are exhausting. Therefore, I am exhausted and would appreciate it if you all just left me alone." Rose and Dave exchanged glances, conspiratorial smiles crossing their faces. Without warning, they leapt into the pile with Karkat, sandwiching him between them. Rose adjusted her robes, leaning back on the boxes, resting her feet on Karkat's legs. "Yes," she said, shutting her eyes, "I can definitely go for a nap as well. Brilliant idea, Karkat." Karkat growled as he bunched up Dave's cape, using it as a cushion between his head and the box. He shut his eyes again, nuzzling his head against Dave’s armpit. "Don't think this means we can have any feelings jams here. I’m just trying to sleep." Dave gasped, slapping Karkat on the arm. "I'm offended. I think I would be a better pale bro than your juggalo bro. My sick fires definitely overwhelm his miracles, not to mention--" "Strider,” he warned, cracking an eye open. “If you don't stop talking, I'm going to shove a card game right up your--" "Fair enough, dude. Catch your forty winks." They curled up together, making the occasional snarky remark as they got comfortable, or as much as they could on a pile of rectangular cardboard boxes, some sturdier than others. Once they settled in, breathing began to slow, thoughts began to fade away, and they fell asleep. Game night was a resounding success. A Moment Summary: Dave and Jade are out hunting for frogs and take a break. Rating: M Warnings: Non-explicit sexual encounter. It was little more than a moment. A break from all that frog breeding. A chance to breathe. Or at least it was supposed to be. The environment was less than picturesque since the Forge had just been stoked, melting the snow nearby, forming muddy puddles. Defrosted frogs went about their business, perhaps to resume business left unfinished since being frozen. It wouldn't be long before the whole planet warmed up, meaning more frogs would be hopping around the place, flopping around in the melted snow, leaping into the farthest branches of the trees. Jade was wearing her 3 AM dress, a somewhat odd choice of fashion given the occasion--perhaps she wore in anticipation for the warmth from the Forge. Either way, Dave hoped she wouldn't notice his looking, the way he stole frequent glances, admiring the way her shoulders and clavicles stood in such stark contrast to the black of her dress. It didn't help either that the fabric was eye-catching, that it hung quite nicely around her hips. A frog in each hand, he approached, tapping her on the shoulder. She was crouched near a tree, trying to coax a frog from its hiding spot amongst the roots. Jade waved a hand, intent on retrieving the frog. "He'll come out eventually," he said, kneeling beside her. "I hope so." She moved away from the tangled mess of roots and looked at the frogs Dave had brought her. "What are you still doing with those?" He shrugged, letting the frogs go. They hopped towards the roots, apparently serving as reason enough for the frog already in there to come out. Jade snatched it, smiling triumphantly. Then, with a pat on its head, she let the frog go, waving goodbye to the little amphibian. Dave stood, offering a hand to Jade. She got to her feet, smoothing her dress. "How much more of this do we have to do? Not that I don’t love harassing random frogs, but they’re terrible wordsmiths." She lifted her shoulders. "We'll know when we finish. Kanaya seemed certain of that." She let out a breath, seeming to deflate. "You okay?" He placed his hands on her shoulders, trying not to squeeze too tightly or make it obvious the effect her bare skin was having on him. "I'm sure we'll finish. They don’t have to rap with me, it’s cool." "No, it's not that," she said, the corner of her mouth lifting into a half smile. "I guess I'm feeling tired. And a little cold." Jade lowered her gaze, the smile falling from her lips. "Oh." Dave fidgeted, giving her shoulders a slight squeeze. "Do you need a jacket?" She shook her head, but offered little else in the way of response. Her hair fell over her face, catching on her glasses. "I don't--" She looked up and in a single movement threw her arms about his neck, kissing him. Dave stumbled backwards, tripping over his feet as he brought Jade down with him, landing on the snow with a thud. His hands rested awkwardly at his sides, fists full of snow, as Jade let out a shaky breath, now splayed atop him. Instead of getting up or pushing away from him, she propped her head up on her hand, smiling. "What, you've never been kissed before?" He cleared his throat, releasing the snow from his grip. "You didn't seem too sure yourself." "I'm not the reason we're on the ground now." Jade tapped his nose, chuckling. "What are you so nervous about anyway?" Dave took a breath and pushed Jade onto her back. He leant over her, suddenly at a loss as he stared down at her, propped up on his arms. She looked up at him with a bright expectant look, an almost amused expression, her dark hair flecked with snow. He adjusted his sunglasses and cupped her face in one hand as he kissed her. The arm supporting him began to shake as he felt heat rise in his cheeks, his stomach pulling into knots; he broke the kiss, letting his hand drop back to the ground. "That's a start." Jade laughed, clasping her hands together behind his neck. "What are you thinking about?" "Spent all this time before acting all coy, knowing when things were going to happen before they did, and now you can't even guess what I’m thinking?" "This is different." "Here," he said, taking one of her hands from his neck and pressing it to his chest. "Can you feel that? Tell me what you think I got on my mind." Jade's hand lingered even after he let go to maintain his balance, the weakness in his arms becoming more and more noticeable. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, bringing his breathing out of rhythm right along with it. She lifted her knees, the fabric of her dress pulling back as she planted her feet on the ground, her leg brushing up against Dave's. He swore he felt his heart skip a few beats before resuming its frenzied pace. Jade pulled him down, pressing their foreheads together as he lay atop her, her breath warm on his skin as she spoke. "That was cheesy, Dave." He let a few moments pass before he replied, hoping his throat wouldn't betray him and stick. "I think you're just too embarrassed to admit it worked on you." Jade offered him a broad grin, reaching for his hand. She pushed him up a bit and brought his hand to her chest, nestling it between her breasts. "Do you think you can tell me what I'm thinking of?" she asked, letting go. For several seconds, Dave was at a loss as his hand rested on her, his fingertips brushing against exposed flesh, the gauzy fabric beneath his palm almost too much to bear. Jade took his hand again, moving it atop her breast, pressing her fingers against his. "What am I thinking about now?" Her voice was soft, almost inaudible. Unwilling to let her take control of the situation, Dave moved his hand away, reaching back for her legs, trailing a cold hand down her thigh, considerably warmer than his fingers were. "What am I thinking about?" he repeated back to her, trying to keep a straight face. He could feel his mouth quivering, his throat catching his every breath. She giggled, squeezing his hand between her legs. Jade let out a breath and closed her eyes, the smile falling from her face as Dave ventured further. He nestled against her neck, burying his nose in her hair, unable to handle looking at Jade’s expressions any longer, the way her lips parted, the way her eyelids fluttered at the behest of his touch. A nearby ribbit, loud and cacophonous, broke the quiet. Dave's fingers, warm and twitchy, froze against Jade's skin, the slick fabric he had pushed aside now sliding back into place. The frog leapt away, seemingly content with having ruined the moment.
  4. So, here's another attempt at getting such a competition in the works. The rules are simple: You have one month to complete a story. A minimum of 500 words is required, but beyond that it can be as long as you like. No recycling old written pieces!! Whether written by yourself, or someone else, this is not allowed. There will be several requirements of entry that should prevent this, I hope. For our first competition, our writers will be required to write a peice following on from this paragraph. From here onwards it can pretty much be whatever you want, but you must include the following characters: 1. A best friend 2. A shady individual Deadline will be the 25th of November. Winner will chose how the next story starts off and what sorts of characters that are to be in it. Good luck!
  5. This is Adventure Time fanfiction. The ship is Simon Petrikov pre-Ice King transformation and Marcelline as a child. It was a bright, chilly day near the beginning of spring. People went about their daily lives in the city, even though the threat of terrible war was ever-looming. They bought hot dogs from carts during lunch hour, huddled around in coffee shops to beat the cold. One person in particular, a brown hair and bespectacled spoft spoken historian of ancient artifacts, left one such coffee shop, huddled in his long wool coat and holding his brown leather briefcase. Simon put his scarf on as he walked, passing the entrance to a large park. But something--no, someone, caught his eye. In a dark purple double breasted coat that went to her knees was a small grey skinned child with short black hair. Her little hands were in hercoat pockets and she stood with her back against a pillar to the gate of the park. She saw him and ran to him. "Hey Mr.P! Did you find anything today?" She smiled at him and hugged his midsection because that was all she could reach. "Oh hello Marcelline. Beautiful day we're having, isn't it? Shouldn't you be in school today?" She shook her head. "It's Saturday, silly! Are you busy? Do you wanna go feed the geese with me?" He smiled at her and offered her his gloved hand. "That sounds lovely." Together they walked into the park, passing people sitting on benches enjoying the air. They made it to the large pond in the middle of the park after walking along a path that cut through the muddy grass. Some patches of it were frozen still, but a few geese were stranded there for the winter. He searched his pockets for crackers, and found a few in a little plastic bag. He handed most of them to Marcelline, keeping only a couple for himself. She broke the crackers in half and tossed them to the geese, who came over immediately. He tossed down his own crackers to them then watched Marcelline throw her crackers to them. He smiled. It warmed his heart to see her so happy, when she was so upset about being lost when he first met her. He put the shoulder strap of his breifcase onto his shoulder and crouched down to be at her level. "I have to go soon but I still have enough time to treat us both to a hot dog, if you would like." She smiled at him. "Thanks, Mr. P. Yeah I haven't eaten since breakfast. I'm really hungry." She took his hand and together they walked to a hot dog stand near the entrance to the park. He bought two hot dogs, one with extra ketchup because he remembered that she liked her hot dogs with it, and walked over to the bench she was sitting at, handing it to her. She smile at him and took it, waiting for him to sit down beside her to start eating. "I'm really glad I met you, Mr.P. If I hadn't met you, I would still be lost in that museum and my daddy wouldn't have found me and it woulda been a great big mess." She took a bite of her hot dog and chewed while thinking of the circumstances that made them meet. Simon was consulting the museum director about a new artifact found, and discovered Marcelline lost and scared in the middle of the museum, totally alone. He calmed her down and together they found her father. When she went to leave with her father, she stopped and declared that they would be friends from that day on, forever. No matter what happened. They would always be friends. After a few minutes of silent eating, Simon threw away his hot dog wrapper. "I have to get going now Marcelline. It was fun being with you at the park. Maybe one day we can come back in the spring when it's warmer so that we'll have ice cream instead of hot dogs again." She looked at him, her smile fading. "But the war would have started by then, Mr.P. We might not even be here. anymore." His heart sank when he heard her speak like that. "I'll be here waiting for you three months from this very moment, at this very spot. We're friends forever and ever no matter what happens, remember? I know you wouldn't keep me waiting." She gave him a hug and he left to continue his day. Three months later, the war had started. Wreckage and despair overflowed through the streets. Most people had evacuated, but not Simon. He had already lost a considerable amount of his mind to the crown, his memories with it, but he never forgot that he promised to meet Marcelline at the park on that day. When he made it to the park, she wasn't there. She was in the middle of the street horribly upset in the middle of wreckage that was once a quiet street just months ago. He ran to a toy store with a broken shopfront window and grabbed the first toy he found. It was a long limbed red teddy bear with blue eyes and a stitched mouth.
  6. Dunno what to call it haha :3 Yes, I used my name All others are purely fiction. All rights go to Suzanne Collins for the original Hunger Games trilogy. This might not be the full thing yet, l will be going over it when Im done and adding, deleting, editing, etc.. I havent finished Chapter Four but I thought I might post it anyways, same with Five. ---------------------------------------- Prologue When the nation once known as North America lost in the fight against the Capitol, a new revolution was born. The Capitol is the leading city of Panem, where the government take refuge and rule the nation. As punishment of losing the battle, 24 citizens of Panem, 2 from each of the 1-12 districts would fight to the death in a computerized arena, slaying one another, and producing the final survivor, as the victor. The victor would become prosperous, and secure themselves and their family a house in the victors’ village, a village with beautiful homes made especially for the winners of the Games. Each year, the 12 districts would prepare themselves for the reaping, a gathering in the centre of each district where the 2 names of the male and female tributes from their district would be announced to the nation of Panem. The qualifications for being able to be reaped are as follows: The citizen must be 12 years of age or older. There will be a male and female from each district. Citizens must not be victors prior to the event. The citizens also have a choice to volunteer as a tribute in the place of a reaped tribute. When a tribute is reaped, they must go through a vast amount of stages before they enter the arena. They participate in the tribute’s parade, where they are introduced and are displayed to the Capitol, and are interviewed by Caesar Flickerman, and the interview is broadcast live across the nation. They are put through vigorous training sessions where they are to improve their skills prior to entering the arena. Tributes will show their best skill to the game makers in order to show the game makers their strengths and weaknesses, thus helping the game makers develop a highly challenging arena. Every 25 Games there is what we call a Quarter Quell. These Games are the same annual Games, but with a twist. This could be two victors, or two of the victors getting reaped instead, or some other twist. The Hunger Games is the ultimate sacrifice from each district, as their representatives try to make Panem history, and win the Games. There are innocent people dying. There’s poverty in every district. But the Capitol doesn’t care. That is their job. Rule, take over and restrict. Destroy, and kill. Chapter One – The First Reaping: District 1 “Our first tribute from District 1 is...” Effie placed her hand inside the glass ball to her left, and clawed around, about to pick up the slip of paper that would confirm which District 1 citizen that would have to fight to the death in the upcoming annual Games. Effie pulled a single slip of paper out of the bowl and licked her lips, ready to tell the whole of Panem the next family’s child that death was going to claim as its own. The crowd were still and silent, frozen with fear. Who would be next? Would it be them who had to enter the arena this year? “Shaynae McNally!” “What in the name of...” came a voice from behind her. “No! No! My daughter, Shaynae, my daughter! She’s only young! She doesn’t deserve to be slaughtered by strangers! No!” Screams of plead came from Shaynae’s mother as the Peace Keepers arrived at Shaynae’s side, ready to escort her up to the stage next to Effie. “No!” Shaynae’s mother screamed from behind her, clawing through the crowd, trying to reach her child. Why doesn’t she just volunteer? Thought Shaynae as she took the first step up onto the stage. She is so sad just to lose me and she’s screaming and thrashing about but she won’t volunteer. Shaynae grimaced and fought back tears as she walked over to stand next to Effie. “Oh my! Oh my! What a beautiful young lady from 1!” Effie screeched out to the crowd, as she extended her hand around Shaynae’s shoulders. Thanks; shame that it won’t last for too long. Thought Shaynae as tears began to roll down her cheeks. Sobs came from the crowd as Effie asked if there were any volunteers to stand in Shaynae’s place. Nobody screamed out “I volunteer!” or “Me!” or “I will take her place!” and Shaynae felt alone, as if she didn’t know any of these people. This District was her family, the people who she had grown up with since she was born. She was the little cheerful 12 year old girl that the District would throw free bread at, give her flowers and spoil her with rare gifts. Now, these people seemed like strangers to her. The lady at the bakery stood silently in the corner, watching Shaynae with a glum look on her face, showing no sadness, or anger. The elderly man from the trading hall who gave her toffees every day since she was little- despite how poor he was-, stood up the front, staring with big blue eyes at the screen to Shaynae’s left side, where there was a better view of Shaynae’s petite little face and Effie’s big, make-up caked face and her puffy blonde wig. Shaynae felt as if she was stranger to them! Was she just... a fad? Was she nothing to these people of her district? She considered them as family, as her friends. They were all so kind to her, yet not one of them volunteered in her place. She was disgusted. “Hello? The Capitol is calling to Shaynae McNally!” Effie cooed in Shaynae’s ear. Shaynae had been too lost in her sad thoughts that she hadn’t been paying any attention to what Effie was saying! “Huh?” Shaynae replied. “Oh dear!” Effie laughed a fake laugh into the crowd, “Our tribute has hearing problems!” The crowd stayed silent, not feeling the humour. “Ah well,” Effie sighed, “I’m afraid we don’t have all day! It’s time for our next tribute!” Effie once again put her hand into the glass bowl and pulled out a slip of paper. The crowd held their breath. “Nicholas Turner!” Effie screamed in a high-pitched voice. No sooner had Effie read out the name when a loud shout came from the middle of the crowd. “I volunteer! I’ll take his place!” A young girl, about 12 years old, stepped out to the front where everyone could see her. “What was that?” said Effie excitedly as she held out her hand to the girl. “I said I volunteer.” Spoke the girl as she was helped onto the stage. The Peace Keepers stepped away from the terrified boy as the girl stood beside Effie. “And what might your name be, young lady?” spoke Effie through the microphone. “Hayat.” “Hayat what?” “Harrouk. Hayat Harrouk.” “What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl! Now, Hayat, please, do tell us. Why did you volunteer to take the place of this... Nicholas?” “ I...” Hayat muttered. “Oh, sorry!” Effie grabbed the microphone off its stand and held it right in front of Hayat’s face. “I volunteered... because I feel sorry for him.” “We have our first volunteer from District 1 in Panem history! What an outstanding young girl! How old are you, deary?” “Twelve.” “Twelve?” “I just said it didn’t I?” “Wow! This young tribute comes with the good looks and the attitude! What a combination!” “Whatever.” Hayat replied. “So, I now present to you, our two tributes from District 1, Shaynae McNally and Hayat Harrouk!” Effie took both the girls’ arms with each of hers and held them up. “Now, shake hands.” Effie whispered as she let go of the girls’ hands. Shaynae looked at Hayat. Hayat looked at Shaynae. Hayat held out her hand as Shaynae looked up, and they shook hands. They both let go as they turned to the crowd, and plastered a fake smile on their lips. A roar erupted from the crowd and Effie stood on the side of the stage clapping enthusiastically. Everyone in the crowd was happy. But they weren’t happy for Shaynae and Hayat, they were happy for themselves. They had survived this year’s reaping. They were safe. They weren’t the ones who had to risk their lives and kill others in an arena of death. They weren’t the ones who had to leave their family and possibly never return to them. Those people were lucky. Shaynae and Hayat stepped back, and gave each other a sad smile. This was the first step of their journey as tributes in The 76th annual Hunger Games. Chapter Two – The Second Reaping: District 2 “Well, here we happen to be again, dear citizens of Panem!” Effie spoke loudly into the microphone. “We are here in District 2 for the second reaping for the 76th annual Hunger Games! Now, let us begin! So, ladies first, as always!” Effie reached into the glass bowl to her left and pulled out a slip of paper, smiling at the crowd over-enthusiastically. “Oh this is going to be so exciting!” Effie jumped up and down in delight and her heels clacked loudly against the concrete floor of the stage. She unfolded the paper, and there it was. “Laura Burke!” Oh. Laura thought as she stood in the middle of the crowd. All of the sudden it was just her and her family and a wide space around her, where fellow citizens of District 2 had cleared a walkway for the Peace Keepers to arrive and collect Laura. “Out of the way!” called the Peace Keepers as they made their way past a few stray citizens. Mum? Tarlee? Corey? Volunteer for me you cowards! Thought Laura angrily as the Peace Keepers grabbed her around the arms and hoisted her above their shoulders. “Hey! Get your hands off of me! Let go of me you brutes!” Laura thrashed about in the Peace Keepers’ arms and kicked and bucked trying to get out. “I can walk on my own!” Finally they released her, and with a slight adjustment of her reaping dress and a wave of her glossy blonde hair, she made her way towards the stage. From high up above the crowd, she could see her family clearly. Her mother was holding Jaxon tightly in her arms, rocking back and forth, sobbing quietly. Tarlee was hugging Corey and Corey was patting Tarlee on the back in comfort. “Well aren’t you a stunner!” Effie spoke into the microphone. Silence. “So, are you, perhaps, the youngest child? Or let me guess, oldest? No, wait, I-“ “I am the second youngest.” “So she speaks!” “Well duh.” “So, Miss... Laura, how old are you dearest?” Effie asked in a syrupy sweet voice. “I am thirteen.” Laura replied matter-of-factly. “I see.” Effie looked over the crowd, seeming embarrassed by the attitude that she just received. “Time for the next tribute then!” Effie plunged her hand into the second glass ball to her right, shaking up the papers within. Then poof, with a flick of her wrist a single slip of paper flew out of the bowl and floated in front of Effie’s face, left to right in the cool wind. “It’s like magic isn’t it! It took me weeks to perfect it!” Effie squealed as she snatched the paper into her hands. “Here we go! Gosh, I’m so excited!” Laura trembled as she prayed that the name of the male tribute on that paper wasn’t one of her family. Please. Not Jaxon. Not Corey. Please. “Jaxon Burke!” No. Laura thought, and she put her hands over her ears, closed her eyes and began to tremble. “Jaxon Burke!” Effie called out merrily again. God no. Thought Laura and she opened her eyes and there he was. Her little brother Jaxon. His blue eyes were glassy and he looked on the verge of tears. “Jaxon, I’m-“But before she could finish, Jaxon had flung himself towards her, holding onto her arm tightly. “I’m gonna die! I’m gonna die Laura!” Jaxon sobbed into her arm. What am I supposed to tell him? Laura thought sadly. It’s probably true anyway. We are both only young. We don’t stand a chance against all the other tributes who are going to get reaped, especially the Careers. “Oh, how sweet is this! Focus the camera, yes, yes right here, right here! Focus it right on the faces of these beautiful siblings!” Effie called out to the cameramen. “Um...” Effie pulled Jaxon away from Laura’s grasp, or tried. “No! No!” Jaxon screamed through tears. “Jaxon-“ “They’re gonna kill me! They’re gonna kill me! Laura!” Effie stared wide-eyed at Jaxon and his small, trembling body. He was terribly skinny, and oh, so tiny! “Jaxon, go and stand in front of the microphone. They won’t kill you, Jaxon, I promise.” “Laura...” Jaxon obeyed his sister’s request and he slowly walked over to Effie, who was standing next to the microphone. “You are tinier than I thought!” Effie pulled the microphone down and crouched on the floor, holding it to Jaxon’s mouth. “You hold it. I’m getting my expensive new clothes dirty.” She whispered into Jaxon’s ear. Jaxon took hold of the microphone with both his hands and he spoke a few words. “Jaxon Burke. Twelve years old.” Effie let out a squeal of delight. “You, young boy! You must watch the annual Games broadcast in your city square twenty-four seven! You already knew what my questions were going to be!” Jaxon stared at Effie. “Okay then!” Effie snatched the microphone from Jaxon’s grasp and held it up to her own face. “I present to you, Panem, the two sibling tributes from District Two, Laura and Jaxon Burke!” Effie pulled the siblings closer together, and for the first time in twelve years, Laura and Jaxon stepped forward and joined hands in union, for now the journey wasn’t one Laura had to share alone. Jaxon was with her. But should he really be? He gave her confidence, responsibility. Strength. But by saying that, Laura felt selfish. Jaxon wasn’t there for that. He shouldn’t have even been standing next to her. He was supposed to be down there with her mother, comforting her. But he wasn’t. The damn Capitol had pulled his name out of that bowl. His name was in there once! Once! One out of what, about 60? A one in sixty chance of being pulled out of that bowl and his name was pulled out. He shouldn’t be here! Laura thought, annoyed. But the journey wasn’t a journey that Jaxon had to suffer on his own either. He had the confidence from his big sister. She had the feeling that she needed to protect Jaxon. He was to be the one to return home. Nobody was going to touch her little brother. Chapter Three – The Last 7 Reapings By the time Effie had completed all eleven reapings throughout Panem, there were only two months left until the Games were to officially begin. Now was time to prepare for the parade, and the interviews. Then it would be onto training, then skills, then the skill judging. Then it would be the real thing- entering the arena. ***** “Quickly! Quickly!” Effie hurried the tributes onto the train. “Hurry up! We haven’t got all day for you to be slouching around in awe!” “But it’s so amazing!” “It’s so expensive-looking!” “Wow!” Compliments came from every tribute as they made their way inside the train. Smells of delicious food, clean furnishings, Windex, and the sights of shining bench tops, flat screen TV’s, and leather couches made the tributes speechless. “For the last time, hurry up!” Effie called from the corridor. “For god’s sake,” the girl from three sighed, “Not our fault they bet us in the war and starve us of everything, not just food.” Most of the tributes nodded their heads in agreement and hurried thought the corridor, trying to keep up with Effie’s fast pace. “All these doors here are where you will be staying! The doors opposite from each other are the rooms the two from each district will stay in! For example-“ Effie opened the door of one of the rooms. The tributes closest to Effie peeped their heads through the door to catch a glimpse of where their home would be for the next few months. “Okay, everyone out here! Out here! I’ll show you all to your rooms and you can have a bit of a settle before dinner is served!” Effie walked back down to the start of the corridor and stood in front of the first pair of doors. “District One, Shaynae McNally and Hayat Harrouk! Pick a room- they’re both identical so don’t fret!” The two tributes from one walked into their rooms and sighs of comfort were immediately heard just before Effie closed their doors. “Two, Laura Burke and Jaxon Burke!” Laura and Jaxon groaned and slumbered into their rooms, immediately closing the doors behind them. “Ah,” sighed Effie. “Kids these days... full of attitude...” The remaining tributes forced themselves to remain quiet. “District three, Bree Baddawi and Lucas Chrysanthou!” “Catch ya later sis’!” Lucas called from his room and the tributes from three closed their doors. “District four! Shaqkahn Taurima and Alex Mughal!” Without a glance at each other, Shaqkahn and Alex both made their way inside their rooms, and quick as a flash closed their doors. “District number five! Manav Shrivastav and Jai James!” “Talk later Manav!” Jai raised his hand for a high-five and Manav laughed, slapping Jai’s hand and walking down the corridor to their rooms. “Six! Wesley Poto and Phoebe Nguyen!” “See you soon Wesley!” Phoebe called sadly from the back of the clan, and Wesley made his way over to Phoebe, gave her a bear hug, then walked into his room, Phoebe following close behind him as she turned into her room. “This is dragging out forever!” Effie sighed, discontent. “District seven! Christopher Brettargh and Emma Fuller!” The two tributes didn’t mutter as much as a goodbye, and they walked into their rooms, closing the doors behind them. Effie stared with an odd look on her face. “Lastly, eight! Megan James and Dean Smith!” “Later.” Dean muttered and walked into his room. “Yeah, bye.” Megan turned into her room. ***** That night, and for the next few days, the tributes would have time to rest. Then, the real challenges would begin. The interviews were only in a week, and the tributes knew that this precious time they had to themselves could be to their advantage. They could discuss strategy, alliances. They would meet with their District victor mentors, and have time to learn strategies from not only them, but from each other. They had to eat well too, with training coming up and the skills test, they would need to carefully plan what they eat. But the food wasn’t the only problem. The Capitol was everywhere. The whole of Panem was watching the tributes every step of the way. When they slept, eat, drank, talked, Panem would always be there watching. However, was this really that big of a problem? If the tributes were to get into trouble with their social status, would that affect them in the Games? Chapter Four – Making an Impression It had come, the night of the parade. Each of the tributes was uniquely dressed in costumes relating to their district. Bree and Lucas, burning coals in fire, made their way over to the underground preparation area. “This is it guys!” Cinna came beaming up to Bree and Lucas, holding a tube of blue flame. “This is synthetic fire,” Cinna explained. “When I hold this to your suits, you will go up in flames, giving the illusion that you are coals burning.” “That sounds awesome!” Lucas exclaimed with delight. Bree smiled, “Yeah! Let’s do this!” Cinna held the blue tube of flame in front of Bree and Lucas and removed the cap. Blue flames flickered at the top, wanting to clutch onto the suits and burn with all their might. “This is gonna look spectacular.” Then poof, in an instant Cinna had touched the tip of the tube onto Bree’s suit, and she was covered in flames. The fire licked at her face, not hot, but not cold. Then when Bree looked over at Lucas, she was amazed. He looked awesome! The flames covered both of them and made the black sequins on their suits shine, making it look like they were actually burning! “You ready guys?” Cinna asked as the District two chariot pulled up beside them. “Well don’t you two look...” Haymitch looked at Bree and Lucas from head to toe. “Smoking hot.” Haymitch gave a chuckle as he stood next to Bree, poking at the synthetic flame burning on her right shoulder. “Good luck sweetheart.” Bree nodded and turned, following Lucas as Cinna led them both down the end of the hall, where their chariot was waiting for them. Cinna helped Bree up onto the chariot, and Bree was in shock. From the chariot she could see right to the other end of the road, where the District One and Two chariots were already making their way along. They needed to be quicker. Chapter Five – Silence and Secrecy Before they knew it, the days of resting had passed, and it was time for the tributes to discuss their final strategies. ***** “Just keep the most important things to yourself.” A drunken Haymitch murmured into the tributes from twelve, Bree and Lucas’ ears. “So basically just don’t answer their questions at all?” Bree whispered. “Everything’s important sweetheart. Every glance, every answer. You need to make the best impression you can, which will win you sponsors, and that,” Haymitch waved his glass of whisky around. “That’s what you need. If you don’t find any food in the Games, then you’ll rely on Sponsors to send you care packages.” “Okay, we understand Haymitch.” Lucas finally spoke up. “Get back to your rooms then, before The Capitol bust us for being up here.” “I thought it was safe you idiot Haymitch!” Bree hissed as she began to walk towards the door that would lead her down from the rooftop. “It is. There are so many wind chimes up here that you can’t hear a thing. The sound is almost deafening. They can’t hear you, but they can see you just fine.” Haymitch winked and turned his back to the tributes who scowled as they went back inside. -------------------------- And yes, I know that the synthetic fire, and Cinna were for 12, and other stuff. I have changed it all a bit, and also,there are only 8 districts in this story because there will be 24 in the arena.... but youll find that out later
  7. Here is a story I wrote a while back. I hope you enjoy and feel free to tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Diet Cola The night’s sky hung low over the wet city. The walls of the buildings were sweating and the streets slid from under foot. Lights reflected off the thick, low hanging clouds giving everything an orange hue. The shade was sickening and only added to the exhaustion that coiled its lines around Cola’s body. Old Town was a part of the city full of cramped, dark alleys to disappear down. This one wasn’t any different from any other. Cola leaned his back against the cold wall of a building and rested his hands on his knees; his breathing slowly came under control. The pounding in his chest gave way to a smoother rhythm, but his nerves continued to twitch at an uncontrollable rate. His legs shook and weakened. He wasn’t used to running like that any more, a few blocks he could manage, but once the distance started to get over a mile his stamina began to wane. The smells of piss and garbage reminded him of how far he’d fallen in his life. Three years was all it took for Cola to degrade from a mildly successful small business owner to a homeless crook. A few more blocks were all Cola had left to travel to find shelter and safety, but his fatigue was making it difficult. When his conviction returned he pealed his back away from the wall and trudged thigh deep in hunger out of the cramped alley, and into the claustrophobic streets. Cola crossed an intersection at the short side of a long block and turned down an identical alley to the one he just left. Two thirds of the way down the alley, past a half full dumpster; Cola entered a building through a window with a broken latch. Ten years ago, or so, the building had been a parts factory of some sort, but cheaper labor over seas had make the sight the relic of a forgotten moment in prosperity and a financial liability. Now the building stood relatively empty. Threaded pegs littered the floor where conveyor belts and machines were once anchored. Cola sometimes found himself wishing he had a tool of some sort to remove them in moments like this, when it was dark and shadows created by dim light coming through the dirty windows hid the bolts in the shadows. Cola had been living there for around six months and was the most recent of the buildings seven tenants. Of the seven, Papa Smurf was the only one home when Cola returned. Pap Smurf has been there the longest and rarely left the building after dark. As the buildings elder, he occupied the manager’s office at the top of a set of stairs in the corner. A single candle stood in one of the windows of the office that overlooked the sparse floor of the factory. A single candle meant that Papa Smurf was home, but sleeping. Cola’s eyes lingered amongst the shadows for a moment and adjusted to the darkness. He looked back up to the candle and wished Papa Smurf was awake, he wanted to talk to him for a while, but it was too late. Cola turned to head to his room as he scanned the rest of the factory for confirmation of its vacancy. Bob’s locker-room door was closed and the gap under the door was as dark as everything else. The same could be said about Dora’s supply office, Jeffanie’s mechanic shop (Jeff and Stephanie were a couple whose marriage actually survived their financial woes), and Kidd’s corner. Cola’s spot was as far away from everyone else as possible, not because he didn’t function well with the others, but because he was overly cautious when he first started staying in the factory and grew accustomed to his space. It was a former janitor’s closet tucked away on the far side of the factory's expansive open floor. The closet was barely large enough for the single, twin mattress he’s found abandoned outside an apartment building half way across town and the few things he managed to save from his life. Compared to most closets of any sort it was large, but as a living space, it was barely adequate. The door swung inward when he opened it and lodged itself against the side of the mattress. Considering there were no windows in it, he stepped out of his closet and back into the factory so he could use the dim light that came in from the window over his shoulder. He was wearing old cargo pants, every pocket was filled to the stitches, and pulled out an unopened pack of four lighters. Cola pulled the plastic away from the cardboard back and removed a blue lighter. He lit the lighter and entered the black void that was his living space before closing the door on the factory. To his left was a small end table that he found somewhere. Using the already burning lighter he lit a set of three candles that stood next to a stack of his favorite books and a homemade DVD that he hadn’t been able to watch in a few years. Cola was exhausted to the extent that his brain no longer thought; he just stared blankly at the cave that was now his home. The glow from the candles’ light made the walls glow is the same shade as the streets outside. When he first moved into the factory he used to make up stories about the people who had lived there before. Such wandering led him to many conclusions that kept him up at night. At one point someone with a child had occupied his present dwelling. The walls were covered in adolescent hieroglyphs that ended five feet above the floor. On nights like this his mood toward his living condition hit bottom like a meal after a few days of bad luck. Once upon a time Coal was the optimist, he used to always land on his feet, but now his smiles came fewer and further between. He was ready for sleep; he needed sleep. He didn’t need it just because of his exhaustion, but because it was the only place he was allowed to remember the past without feeling the burden of the present. Cola began emptying his pocket of the hoard he collected when he and Kidd performed their run out. Consistent with the agreement they had come to, Cola began dividing up the goods. From what he was able to grab and stuff in his pockets, minus everything in his hands he dropped while the clerk was chasing him; they would each get two lighters, five candy bars, a toothbrush, two bars of soap, chap stick, and under arm deodorant. The excess from the odd numbered items he set aside to give to Bob for shower privileges and what was his he stuck in the hole that used to be the end table’s drawer. Everything that was Kidd’s he left on the table top. Normally, he would have taken off his shoes and stuffed his two extra pairs of socks in them to keep anything from crawling inside, but he was too exhausted to bother. He shuffled across the floor, stumbling as he tripped over one of the roach motels he had stuck to the floor surrounding his bed. Cola’s legs were still feeling the affects of the thief’s marathon; it was a slow squat that turned into a crawl leading to his pillow. The pillow was and old, strapless backpack stuffed with newspaper and his blanket was given to him at the neighborhood shelter. Neither met their purpose that night. He woke the next day in a black cave and relit the candles on the table with the same blue lighter he had used before. The booty he left for Kidd was gone and replaced with his half of what Kidd got away with, which mostly consisted random, somewhat useless things. After falling asleep without blowing out the candles, they were surprisingly only a quarter of the way burnt. Kidd must’ve returned shortly after him and blown them out after the exchange. He grabbed a can of overpriced chicken soup from the table top and cranked away at it with the opener on his pocket knife. It was eaten cold with an overused, plastic spoon he got from a fast food joint. Cola sat at the edge of his mattress mindlessly eating and staring off into nothingness. Nothing had changed since last night, not his moon and definitely not his situation. If only one thing would change, one minor shift of luck and it could make the difference between a new start and another year of homeless thievery. As positive as his thoughts might sound, they only served to deepen his somber mood. All they were was reminders of chances that he no longer believed would come. Cola was still hungry. He wanted something to eat that didn’t consist mostly of broth. The sunlight from outside filtered into the factory through the old, dirty windows; Cola found himself wishing he’d stolen sunglasses as he stepped from inside his hole. Judging by the way the light came in, Cola could tell that it was sometime between breakfast and lunch at the shelter. If he wanted something hot now he would have to get it someplace else. Back in the janitor’s closet, in the side pouch of his makeshift pillow, was two dollar bills and little over four bucks in change. It was just enough for two hot dogs from a street vender. Even though there were various venders that made camp closer to the factory, Cola always made his way to the other side of the park to see the pointy eared Spock who sometime took pity on him with minor handouts and condiment packets. His legs were slightly sore from the night before, but his want of hot food pushed them forward. It took Cola almost a half hour to make it to the corner Spock usually occupied, a walk that regularly took half the time. Two hog dogs and a free bag of plain chips was a start to a good day by Cola’s standards. He left Spock’s cart with a smile that almost cracked his face and found a stoop to sit on. Spock’s hot dog cart was still within view from where he sat. Cola ate his hot dogs and chips slowly and deliberately, savoring every last bite and finding bliss in the warmth as it traveled through and reenergized his body. Contently, Cola sat there watching the city move. People in all forms of dress passed on the side walk in front of him as the traffic crawled along the street. Then luck fell at his feet with a barely audible pat. Between his warn and nearly tread-less, white sneakers was a wallet. In disbelief, Cola leaned over slowly and picked up the wallet. He treated it like and ancient artifact that was brittle and would fall apart if he handled it otherwise. Fifty, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred, six hundred; eight hundred fifty-six was all now his. The moment he had been wishing for had finally come. Finally, something good had happened to Cola after so much time filled with back luck and setbacks. The smile that cracked his face now shattered him from ear to ear. Eight hundred fifty-six dollars could get him a place for a month with more than cold water and a set of clothes nice enough to find a job in; if Cola had his own sound track, the choir would be singing. Cola looked around to see if anyone noticed him pick it up. One thing that he learned during his time on the street was that it's not that anyone didn’t notice him, but that they didn’t want to acknowledge that they noticed him. But, there was a voice. At first he didn’t want to hear it, but he couldn’t help but comprehend the words that the voice spoke. “I don’t believe this! You have got to be kidding me.” Cola looked to his right to see a man standing in front of Spock’s hot dog cart digging through his pockets franticly. Standing behind the man, not quite understanding what was going on, was a young boy no older than six holding two hot dogs. At that moment Cola remembered the homemade DVD on his nightstand in the janitor's closet; little, fat fingers curled around one of his, smiles all over the place, his love holding their child with the same park he had just passed through in the background. “We’re gonna have to give the hot dogs back son. Daddy lost his wallet.” The child slowly broke into tears as his father took the hot dogs from his hands and passed them back to Spock. “Ain’t this just a bitch,” he said to Spock in a tone Cola was too familiar with, “just when I though my luck had turned and I was going to be able to pay by back rent.” The person Cola was before and who he is now began fighting in the back of his mind. The change in his luck he had been hoping for would have to come at the expense of someone else, maybe someone who actually needed it more than he did. “Excuse me," Cola said, "but you dropped this.”
  8. This is just a short story I have to compose for my homework... and my teacher is going to get it published (not distributed) like printed and stuff and I want feedback! ---------------------- Even if I never escape this place, I’m not going to change, thought Heather as she rolled a piece of ceiling plaster between her fingers. The pale grey walls of the orphanage surrounded her in her corner. The counsellor sat at her desk, watching Heather in her corner, rolling the ceiling plaster in her fingers, writing down notes on her clipboard. Heather could feel eyes staring at her. She glanced up and saw the counsellor staring at her with a warm, kind smile. Heather didn’t return the smile. She glumly looked at the counsellor for a few seconds, and then went back to rolling her ceiling plaster. ‘Why don’t you talk to me, Heather? I’m here to help you. I’m your friend.’ The counsellor’s voice calmly spoke. Heather stopped rolling her plaster in between her fingers and sat, silent. ‘Get lost, lady. You aren’t my friend. Don’t act like you care about an orphan. You have sat at that desk and talked to many others like me.’ Heather replied. ‘Heather-’ began the counsellor. ‘No.’ Heather interrupted her halfway. ‘You can spend this whole afternoon sitting there and writing down notes about me like I am an animal in an exhibition. See if I care. I am not going to tell a mere stranger all about myself.’ Heather glared at the counsellor. The counsellor wrote down some words on her clipboard, and then flipped the page, to reveal a nice, clean white piece of paper. ‘If you think you can get me to fill up an entire piece of A4 paper with my thoughts then you really must be as stupid as I assumed.' Heather retorted, throwing the ceiling plaster across the carpet. 'I think maybe that's enough for today, don't you think?' murmured the counsellor as she picked up her papers. 'Meh.' was all that came out of Heather's mouth. Well I didn't talk anyway, Heather thought for a moment before the counsellor opened the door to allow her out. Heather stood up and walked out the door, not once looking back to see the face of her counsellor. The orphanage's corridors were long, dull and boring, and Heather hated them. She had lost count of the number of times she had walked through them. The paintings on the walls were paintings that had been painted by the kids at the orphanage themselves.
  9. Here is a story I wrote a while back. I have several other short stories I plan to share and a science fiction novel I've been sitting on that I might post in installments depending on the responses I get to my short stories. I hope you enjoy and feel free to tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is appreciated. In the Corner The Tornado's power tore across the open space. From the bottom up, the Tornado was a twisting spiral of furry. His left foot hit the mat and the rotation travelled through his heal, and past his knee. If the force could have its own sound effect, it would snap by the time it reached Tornado's hip, and the wind would howl as it whipped around his torso. Tornado's experience tricked his younger opponent into dancing himself cornered. Sunday's punch is now gyrating into the youngster's right side. Tornado's left drilled its way through the younger, taller opponent and buried the pain in his liver. Brian "The Tornado" Myers had been planting the seeds for this combination for the last three rounds and now that he finally had his opponent cornered, he was going to deliver the message. "I'm not washed up!" Joe Hernandez is an "up-and-comer" expected to be the "next-best-thing" since turning pro; bull shit. After compiling seven "impressive victories" (whatever, a bunch scrubs), with zero losses and seven knockouts, Hernandez is looking to use the recently unretired Tornado as a stepping stone for his resume on his path to contention. But, at this moment, the "old dog" (fucking promoters) is looking to teach the youngster the differences between experience and talent, and between power and speed. Tornado felt Hernandez's right side crumble, and could sense his head come down. Like four times earlier in the bout, Tornado followed up the left with a right hook to the head. And, like the last two times, Hernandez's hands went up to guard his temples. Hernandez took the right hook through his guard despite the pain in his right side. He braces himself again for the hook he's sure will come from the left, like it had in the earlier rounds, but this time the left isn't a hook. Tornado's left flew up from below like he was throwing the switch on Frankenstein's monster and squeezed its way between the elbows. Hernandez's head popped up like an empty pez dispenser, and, if seen from a certain angle, the snap of the punch caused a mist of sweat to shine like a halo in the glow from the bright lights above. Seven matches is more than enough information to study for Tornado to come up with a pre-match strategy, but there's something to Hernandez that can't be seen on film. Because of the combination of his speedy footwork, his technique, and uncanny foresight; Hernandez has practically gone untouched until now. What Tornado is now learning is about the kid's toughness. Hernandez tightens up quickly and absorbs the following combination from The Tornado. A powerful one-two against Hernandez's guard blew away the fog lingering from the uppercut and brought Hernandez back into the pace of the fight. Tornado can still see the fire in Hernandez's eyes burning from behind his guard. He didn't expect the youngster to be able to absorb his power as well as he has, but nothing ever truly surprises Tornado anymore. After twelve years as a pro and one and a half as a second in the corner, before coming out of retirement, Tornado had seen just about everything. The Tornado readies to unleash his full weight on the kid. He took his legs away with blows to the body in the earlier rounds, now it's time to start aiming for the victory. He widens his stance and drops his hips, loaded like a spring ready to uncoil a rapid succession of blows. Once again, the power from his legs boils up and across his back as it begins to wind up. Every hour and minute, and second of training snapped into motion a rage of explosive power. Tornado's right hook howled through the thick air like a wolf through the trees of a dense forest. Hernandez is not defenseless though, nor is he content to sit back and hide behind his guard. He steps out of the corner screaming with an uppercut to counter Tornado's hook. Hernandez's speed is enough to catch up to Tornado's, but it's not fast enough to beat him to the punch. They trade off in the corner to the sound of the bell and the end of a grueling eighth round. The uppercut to Tornado's chin is twice as fierce as all of Hernandez's punches from the previous rounds combined, as such, so is the impact of Tornado's hook across Hernandez's left cheek. The full weight and power of both fighters swinging and putting their bodies behind the force of those swings, multiplied the forces of the impacts. Hernandez's head swung to his right. Tornado's head popped up just like Hernandez's had second's before. At this point, the fight had officially gone beyond technique or speed or power, these two punches lit a fire in both fighters that will rage across the ring for the coming rounds. Both fighters, neither hearing the bell, snapped back into their fighting stances and began to recoil for another exchange of blows. The eruption of the crowd couldn't be heard in the ears of either fighter. They are the only two people on the face of the earth at the moment and nothing but an act of God is going to stop them. Just then, a glaring whiteness appeared before the two of them. "Break! That's the bell. Back to your corners." Both boxers stood there, glaring at each other over the ref's shoulder. The old pro that he is, Tornado turns his back on Hernandez and the ref to make his way toward his corner. Hernandez is not as composed though, frustrated after having been cornered, he slams the butt of his glove across the top rope of the ring and slowly walks to where his second waits for him; not once taking his eyes off Tornado's expansive back. "Brian, sit down," I say to him as he refuses to take the stool. "That was a nasty upper, sit down and concentrate on recovering your breathing." "I'm good bro," he says after I pull his mouth piece out and before I give him a squirt of water. He spits the water into a funnel that has a tube going to a bucket below the ring. The spit is a dull pink color from the mixture of blood that's intermingled with the saliva and water. The inside of his mouth is torn up from the blows he's taken throughout the match. "I don't wanna sit. I might not get back up if I sit." I move to the side so the cut man, our father, can get in the ring to work on the swelling around his eyes. Brian and I are both second generation boxers, but neither I nor our father ever though Brian would have the success he is currently facing when he came out of retirement. Our father isn't much of an athlete and much less of a boxer, but his knowledge of the sport and his ability to teach make him the perfect trainer for young talent. Its funny when you look at how things turned out between us, Brian and I that is, the two sons of one of the best trainers in pro-boxing today, George T. Myers. Fortunately for me, as I used to think, the two things I inherited from my father were the two things I wanted the most from him; his name and his boxing knowledge. As for my athleticism, that was the biggest difference between my older brother and me, I took after our mother and he took after our father. You should have seen me in the ring. The old man used to call me a natural, and once he beat every bit of boxing into me, I was the most feared contending out there. By the time I became number one, I had racked up an undefeated record of twelve victories with nine knockouts. And, I was geared up for my first title match. My brother on the other hand, was the mirror image of my father in his prime; talent level and all. As far as anyone could tell, his carrier was headed in the exact direction our father's went, to the corner. Brian retired from fighting with a record of fifteen wins, seven losses, and fourteen knockouts. Not a bad record for someone without a lick of athletic talent. But, what Brian lacked in speed and natural ability, he more than made up for with power, tenacity, and knowledge. And, now that Brian's returned to the ring after my retirement, his strengths more than out weight his faults. "Seconds out," is yelled across the expanse of the blood and sweat soaked mat. Tornado looked across the vast emptiness between him and Hernandez, who is hopping along in his corner, surely a show of defiance. Hernandez doesn't want Tornado to know he's still hurting from the exchange at the end of the last round. Tornado knows better though, he knows that exchange isn't the only source of the pain Hernandez is feeling. After taking five of Tornado's bests shots, five of his Sunday's best, Tornado knows Hernandez's side must be killing him. The liver-blows were more than just a set up for a combination. They were seeds planted in the mat beneath his legs. These seeds would grow into weeds and entangle Hernandez's legs in sloth. Tornado had been working at taking away his speed the entire match by repeated blows to the body. Though Hernandez certainly is tough, the dancing in the corner is a show. He thinks he's fooling Tornado into thinking that he's not damaged. Hernandez burst from his corner like a freight train from a dork tunnel. Tornado was waiting for this. Frustration bled cracks across Hernandez's face. Tornado knows this is about to turn into a brawl, he knows that he had taken away most of Hernandez's lateral mobility. Tornado quickly moved out of his corner and met Hernandez in the center of the ring. Like before the bell rang in the last round, he widens his base and sinks his hips in preparation for a hitting match. Regardless of how many rounds he has left in the match, Tornado knows he can't let it go to a decision. For every punch that he lands Hernandez lands two. The numbers and the score are on his side, but Tornado's power is undeniable. No matter how many punches he takes, he knows that his are hurting more. Guarding and dodging have become a thing of the past, reserved for the luxury of the earlier rounds; and, if they did happen, were pure signs of training and muscle memory. The two men stand there, in the center of the ring, face to face without budging. The roar of the crowd is deafening, but neither fighters notice. There are only two people in their world and they are holding each other up with tenacity. For the entire round they trade off. Hernandez lands a beautiful one-two only to have the outside of his left eye split by another one of Tornado's vicious right hooks. He lands another one-two to the crown of Tornado's head only to receive another left to the body in return. Neither man backs down till the bell rings signaling the end of the ninth round. Once again, the ref has to dive between the two pugilists in order to stop the round. My older brother came out of retirement just to avenge my loss to the present champion, who, including this match, is only two victories away. As I stand over him and watch our father tend to the swelling around his eyes, eyes that are so swollen I wonder if he can even see, I am amazed at my brother's courage. "Jr." I hear faintly. I am in awe at my brother's guts. My left eye, blinded by an illegal elbow, aches at the sight of my brother’s condition. I can hear breath coming out in wheezing gasps, a sign of an obvious broken rib or two, but he does not complain. "Jr.!" I hear our father yell out to me. "Yeah?" "Are you going to give your brother some of that water or are you going to stand there watching him suffer?' Brian is standing just like before. He's still afraid to sit down. I pull his mouthpiece out and squirt the water into his mouth. I squeeze the bottle too forcefully though and squirt the water directly to the back of his throat. It causes him to choke for a moment and he gags and coughs to clear the water. "Jesus Christ, son. What the hell's wrong with you? You trying to kill him?" The anger etched across our father's face bores a whole in my pride. "No...it's ok..." Brian manages between gasps. "I was... fading... I needed that." "Don't talk." Father yells, still angry at me, "concentrate on catching your breath. You're doing fine just keep it up. His speed is not as fast and his punches look like they've lost something. Your power's getting to him. Don't let up for an instant. He's a tough bastard, but you’re tougher. Remember that." Brian bobbed his head in acknowledgement. The words coming from our father carried more weight than just their meaning. They were full of pride. When the doctors told me that the sight in my eye might never return, which it didn't, my brother took it the hardest. Because of a freak accident, our father couldn't be ringside during my title fight. I was the natural expected to take the belt from the champ in his third defense. Brian was my second for that match and ever sense, regretted not throwing the towel, and allowing me to continue knowing I couldn't see out of it and that the champ was going to continue to work it over. He was afraid of how I might react after the match, and he was right. I never blamed Brian for not throwing the towel; the fact of the matter is I probably would have never forgiven him if he had; even if it had saved the vision in my eye. "Second out." I stuffed the mouthpiece back in Brian's mouth and began to make my exit from the ring. Before I could make it through the ropes I felt Brian's gloved hand grab my arm. He gave me a nod and his eyes spoke all the words his lips couldn't, "Don't worry bro, I'm fine. This is only a stepping stone to our goal. I didn't move up a weight class just to lose here, I'm gonna win. " "Second out." This time the warning was meant for me specifically.
  10. Preface This is a small sample of the full story that I'm still writing based on the fantasy/fairy tale story I wrote for the random contest. This is actually part of the original story I had written for the contest, but I was at about 1500 words and still hadn't finished the first fight yet so I decided to switch story-telling style and take on a more traditional fairy tale voice. This version is much more detailed and takes a god-like perspective that follows Diarai the dragon rather than the complete 3rd person narrator I used in the fairy tale telling of the story. I really liked what I had written for this, and I hope to be able to finish telling the entire story in this voice. I'm actually well ahead of what I'm giving you, but I don't want to feel pressure to release what I write immediately so I'm only giving a bit at a time. The rest of the story will come in later posts. The Storm of Fire In the hundreds of years Diarai had lived, never had he been more vexed by a single knight than he was now. Unlike knights in the past who foolishly attempted to fight Diarai in cumbersome suits of armor that could easily be melted or broken, this knight fought with only light boiled leather, a small steel cap, and a strong round shield. Armor would do nothing against Diarai’s claws or fiery breath, and Diarai had to give this man some respect for his shrewd choice to dodge such attacks rather than try to defend against them. However, speed would not be enough to best a dragon. As the knight danced away from Diarai’s claws, his foot landed on a crack in the cave floor, and he lost his footing. Spotting the opportunity, Diarai swiftly swung his tail intending to strike off the man’s head, but the knight fell to the ground and rolled out of the way allowing the deadly strike to pass above him. He then scrambled behind a low, jagged rock near the cave wall as a puff of Diarai’s flames scorched the place where he had fallen. However, now the knight was cornered. That small rock could not cover the knight from a full blast of Diarai’s fire. Diarai drew in air and prepared a white hot blast meant to melt the rock and the knight hiding behind it. However, before Diarai was finished, a thin green streak shot up from behind the rock where the knight was hiding. The enchanted arrow exploded on the cave ceiling, striking a large stalactite hanging above Diarai.
  11. Well I decided to try something I'm generally not good at, first person! Was sick of Seventh sanctum until it churned out the little beauty that is Ethereal Tear which fit perfectly with my idea from before. The characters I'm using are pretty obvious, and hopefully there will be a inebriated individual for the entire second half and a possible plot romance. Anyhoo, enjoy! First page of the letter discovered in Wyrfrad Manor's Cellar. It was found amongst a small pool of blood and a fallen bookcase. Ever get that feeling on the edge of the abyss, that the world would be a better, simpler place if you just jumped? That tingle on the back of you skull that you need to itch but can't seem to reach no matter how much you scratch? Well that is me as I write my account of what happened that faithful winter's day. But first, before the clarity of my mind fades once again and the tear takes shape again, I must explain the reason I failed. The reason I'm writing this in amongst my own blood and faeces with salty tears streaming down my face. I don't pity myself, far from it. In fact I'm proud that despite my fruitless efforts I'll be the first to witness the power in its truest of forms. That unholy light permeating through my very fibres tugging at the last remanents of my sanity. The voices beckon me, but I must finish this task! I shall try to continue this account as I begin my final descent down that infernal stairway. Those between realms rejoice, for you have won! Before this all began I was a clerk in a bank, reaching the last stages of my life in blissful ignorance to my fate. I had been married twice and with almost 6 grandchildren I was content to live out my last couple of decades in peace, bathing my grandchildren in praise and promise. Despite my quite high position in the banking trade I had long lost my touch, often being called Mr. Oldschool by the younger more ambitious interns. They mocked me and my apparently plodding nature openly but I truely could not care. I had passed my prime and knew it. My boss was also a dear friend, godfather too my two sons and daughter. He and I had been thick as thieves since childhood, but there came the day when he asked for my resignation and gave me an early retirement. This is where things began to change. I remember that last walk out of the bank, with my meager office belongings piled into a small sturdy carboard box. The jeers of some younger interns made my skin crawl, but my friend had asked me to retire so they could get some new blood. He was apparently being forced to retire as well. No matter, I thought, this just means I can start golfing earlier. How wrong I was. When my second wife got wind of my forced retirement she supported me but mentioned now was the time to move out to the family estate permanently. I glady agreed to her idea and set myself to purpose with zeal. Within the week we had moved to our family's estate, a modest manor out in the Welsh country-side with now neighbours around other than sheep and deer. It was the beginning of our glorious twilight years where our hobbies became true passions and our grandchildren became creatures without fault. It wasn't til the onset of our first winter that my nightmare began. Elizabeth, my dearest wife, had come down with a serious case of pnemonia. In the following weeks her condition worsened until the unimaginable happened and I was left to brave my final decades without her by my side. Grief stricken I began to turn inwards upon myself shunning family and friends, turning to ever darker ways of amusement. I feel, that in retrospect, that this is when my grasp on reality began to slip. Within my manor's old library that I discovered the tomes that would lead me to my ultimate doom, great leather opuscules on the nature of man and his spiritual other. The subject intrigued me not just cause of the circumstances, but also the ramifications my actions could create or at least, what my inward self loathing could create. With great care I plied my way through these opuses of arcane nature rewriting snippets of information I did not understand and scraps of ineligible information so that I might find their true meaning. My search for a lexicon on the same subject were in vain so I decided to journey into the nearest town and search their libraries. When the snow had died down somewhat I decided now would be the time to venture into town in search of my much needed lexcion. The syntax in some of the tomes was so foreign to me that at times I felt the cure would be worse than the condition. But this determination in me had built up to a freverant pitch, driving me to search on despite the nagging sensation at the back of my neck. After hours of searching throught the old dusty shelves I began to discover what I wanted, and even better what I needed. Amongst the lexicons there was a small, innocuous manuscript that seemed to call to me. The cover itself molded to my hand as if fate had guided it towards me with the promise of forbidden knowledge. And what knowledge! The books name was the Ethereal Tear and Other Insidious Items, a title that would scare off the weak of mind no doubt. But my addiction to this occult knowledge strove to plunge me past my better judgement, despite the sensation of rising bile in my stomach, and buy the book. How this decision would determine my life the weeks to follow would be lost on me at that time and only now do I realise that feeling wasn't morbid curiousity but the luring nature of an object that was better left undisturbed. My life had begun its final spiral and now all it needed was passengers to share the journey. The second page of the letter was found outside the manor's library, partially burnt from the fire. Due to this the first paragraph has been lost but the last part is mostly whole. Pieces of what appeared to be a third page were found but had detriorated beyond recognition. ...done it! It had been an ardous search, but I managed to procure the supplies I needed. That coupled with the best possible acquisition I could've hoped to make, a willing host. My two new assistants shared my passion, my addiction to the book. I had become transfixed by these pages that's words seemed to dance in my head willing me to do things I never thought I could do. But by God the Items it described! Object of inexplicable nature or origin that boggled the mind and warped the constants of our world. The Altar, the Astral Nexus, the Broken Key... things that no human should find. But it was the titular Ethereal Tear that truely beckoned to me. The stories of its power had been amongst our world's greatest stories since time immemorial. Jesus... Mo-......even Was-.....many had used this Tear to possess the minds of the populace, making them seem close to God. Everything was up for grabs if I could just touch it... imagine the po-.....the ne-...prophet. My new assisstants believed that it summon it we need a sacrifice but I had been reading the tomes. Blood had to be spilled yes, but not death. Not yet. It was my younger assisstant the helped me to this conclusion. Her name was Lyndsay, a beautiful young girl with firey red hair and even hotter temper. She said she was from Ireland, but I was skeptical due to her lack of accent. She did drink like an Irishman however, swallowing a great deal of my wine collection in a matter of days and raiding my brandy cupboard on the odd occasion. Despite her state of constant inebriation she was a feverent worker and truely a believer in this eldritch power. Her demeanour clashed with my other helper however, a man by the name of Richard. He seemed to be infirm and always came down with colds. Lyndsay told me that he used to be a streetwalker and that the ailment most likely came from his profession. But no matter as he worked well and seemed to be almost as driven as me but for different motives. So we set to work, opening the Manor's cellar and the small cave it had been built on. The spiral staircase leading down had been a problem at first but after some quick repairs we had reached the bottom, to small room where we would rendezvous with fate in the coming days. But-......the rest has been smoked black by the fires and is most likely lost
  12. Part 1 Lucas ran through the streets, barely avoiding running into a man in a business suit. People glanced over as he passed by at high speeds, undoubtedly wondering why he was running. Their questions were soon answered as a group of men soon followed, running after him. From what they were wearing, the men looked like members of a street gang. Lucas narrowly dodged another person, not turning back as they swore loudly at him. He focused on running and getting away, not paying attention to his surroundings. Breathing heavily, he turned a corner onto a side street, using his hand to block the glare of the setting sun off of the glass panels on the building that lined the sides of the street. From the sounds of the heavy footsteps behind him, Lucas could tell that the men were catching up. Desperately, he dodged into an alley, hoping that the small space would slow his pursuers down. As he ran through the alley, his mind inadvertently played back the incidents leading to the chase. For most of his live, Lucas had been as jailer; working at the city prison. He started out watching over the main block with several other jailers, but moved on later to a smaller cell block in one of the dark corners of the prison. It was in those poorly lit, foul smelling confines that the incident occurred. While letting out the prisoners for mealtime, a group suddenly jumped out and began beating him, surrounding him from all sides. They pounded him with large swooping blows, leaving him defenseless and quickly rendering him a bloody mess. The memory of the incident still made him cringe. No matter what he had tried, he couldn’t avoid the blows that they rained down on him. Through his desperation and pain, he came to realize that the other jailers were doing nothing to stop the prisoners. They stood by as they always did, ignoring him. From what he heard, they only stepped in after he had gone unconscious. The fact that nobody came to help him sooner pained him almost as much as his injuries. He recalled waking up in a hospital room with broken ribs and a badly smashed face. It was in that same room that he was told that he had been fired from the prison. The reason that they gave him was that he was unable to control the prisoners and would therefore no longer be needed. Lover the year that had passed since then, Lucas had still not found a new job. What he did find, though, were enemies. The friends of prisoners that he had watched over began to try to take revenge on him. His current predicament was a result of this. Quickly snapping his mind back to running, Lucas continued along as fast as he could. Looking around briefly, he noticed that the chase had taken him to the industrial section of the city. Large pipes entwined with the walls of the metallic buildings that surrounded him, lit with the dull orange or the setting sun. In the distance, several towers spewed gray smoke into the sky. As Lucas looked around, he came to realize that he was no longer being chased. With cautious relief, he came to a jogging stop, leaning over so he could catch his breath. He was sweating profusely, causing wet spots on his shirt. While he tried to catch his breath, Lucas took a closer look at his surroundings. He hoped that it was possible to get back to his apartment from his current location, although he had no idea how he would get there. Suddenly, a strange object caught his eye. It was sitting sideways against the chainlink fence across the alley from him. He walked over, picking it up to take a closer look at it. It was an egg shaped metal object with several ridges sticking out at strange angles. There appeared to be a semblance of a control panel on one side, hosting an array of buttons. Unsure of what to do, Lucas searched his memory for any shred of information that could identify the strange object. After a few minutes, he gave up trying. Not knowing what to do, Lucas pocketed the object and started on his way home. Part 2 “Are you sure you’re ready?” The bald man looked over at Catherine, his face conveying little emotion. Catherine brushed her hair back over her right ear, trying to ignore the man and focus on the door in front of her. She took a deep breath, trying to ensure that her mind was clear. Without even answering the question, she pushed the door open and walked into the room. The room was well lit, giving the table that took up the center of the room a striking contrast to the suits of the men that sat at it. The men looked up at her as she entered the room, causing her to subtly bit the inside of her lip. She continued to the front of the table, putting down the papers that she was carrying. She stood at the front of the room without saying a word, leaving the room in silence. One of the men leaned forward and broke the silence. “You can start whenever you want.” Catherine straightened up and began the presentation, prompted by the man’s words. “Hello, I’m here today to present to you our most recent development, the Control Capsule. It’s a lightweight and powerful device that my team has been working on for the past four years, and we believe that it’s almost ready for military use. The device is based on a phenomenon found in the Akledemerin Caves known simply as the Akledemerin Effect. The caves have caused people to temporarily lose control of their thoughts and actions. We have researched this phenomenon, and have found the cause. People in the caves seem to have part of their Vivos, or life energy, drained and replaced with the Vivos of a nearby person. That person can then indirectly control that person’s actions for a short period of time. Our device emulates this, and allows a person to drain some of a person’s Vivos and replace it with their own, allowing temporary control.” One of the men in the back of the room interjected “I’ve heard talk about this device. From what I’ve heard, it’s been dubbed the ‘Corruptive Control Capsule’, since its caused insanity in some of its users. Now why would that be?” Catherine fidgeted, but spoke up before anyone else could comment. “We’re not yet sure of the cause, but we’re working on preventing that particular side effect. As I’ve said, it’s still not fully ready, it’s getting close.” The man interjected again. “It’s been four years and you still have no way of producing a stable weapon? I say that you leave and figure this out, because I’m not going to put any more budget towards this project. We all agree that you’re taking too long.” Catherine looked around the table, desperately hoping that someone would stop the man’s rant. Another man scribbled a note in his notebook and looked up to speak. “Catherine, we’re not going to funnel more funds into a project that isn’t showing results. Go ask someone else.” Devastated, Catherine took a step back. From the looks that she was getting from the men at the table, she had no hope of getting the extra money. Without a word, she gathered her papers off the top of the table. The men continued to watch her as she walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She walked down the hallway, swearing under her breath. In all her years working as a weapon designer, she had never been treated that badly. Or at least, she had never been treated that badly by her superiors.
  13. Until I figure out a not crappy title for this thing. Here's the start of my entry for this round of KamWri. "'Gimme another, gimme another, gimme another!' I tell ya, it's the same every day. They come in here treating me like a slave, like my job isn't hard, that the only thing to it is just pouring drinks and they're the only ones with 'real' problems. Well, let me tell ya how many times I had to pour and pour this joker's drink because there were too many bubbles in it and it would clash with his aura." He waved his hands in the air sarcastically, rolling his eyes and sneering. The tavern was crowded, nigh every seat taken up by various patrons and their companions. A few had taken to dragging in chairs from outside, unwilling to sit outside in the pouring rain, streaking mud across the wooden floor. "I'm tired of people tellin' me they wished their life was easy as mine, 'cause it ain't. It ain't easy and it never was easy. Not even in the beginning." The woman sitting at the bar listened to his tirade tiredly, rolling her glass between her hands, the liquid swirling inside untouched. She had brought it to her lips to drink earlier, but upon finding lipstick smears from a previous customer, she couldn't bring herself to use it. Too often had she made the mistake of drinking from something less than clean only to find herself sporting mysterious new appendages or unable to count. Enchantments were all well and good, she thought, but they were personal and not something to be inadvertently shared with others who chose not to make use of them. He continued to rant, absently wiping a glass with a filthy rag, a vein bulging from his neck as he worked himself up over the injustices he faced every day. "Hang on a sec, Don," he said, interrupting himself mid-sentence, putting the glass down. "Hey! You with the frilly cape!" From across the room, a young man in a bright orange cape, pointing a knife at the person sitting across from him, loosened his grip on his weapon and looked up, confused. "Yes, you! Put that shit away! You got problems, you take it outside, jackass!" His eyes bulged. "Oh, you little shit. Don't you even—" "Let me handle it, Rex." The woman stood up and pushed her barstool in, wiping the condensation from her drink on her pants. "You're causing a scene." She made her way through the room, manoeuvring around people in bulky armour and robes, trying not to trip over the shields and packs littering the area. The storage room was likely once again empty and unused—travellers often refused to relinquish control of their belongings, believing the numerous stories the town was known for being a safe haven for rogues and shysters. In a few moments she stood at the table of the troublemaker, who had since put the knife down, bitterly gathering up scattered cards and slipping them into his sleeve. "What seems to be the problem here?" "Frankly, it's none of your business," responded the caped one as he stood up. "I was just on my way out, no thanks to that loud-mouthed bartender over there. He's bad for business." The person sitting across from him, an older man in plain clothing, his glass of water perched on the ledge of the shuttered window, shook his head and extended his hand to the woman. "Evenin', Don. We was playing a game and it seems he doesn't take too kindly to those who can spot a cheater when they see one. His cards are marked. Amateur, if'n you ask me." "Is this true?" she asked, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder, causing him to sit back down. "Despite what people may say about us, the locals here don't abide by cheaters." When she received no answer, she bent forward, leaning into the man's ear, lowering her voice. "Now, you may think with your flashy cape and little tricks that you've got what it takes to pull a fast one on him, but I'll tell you right now I can see it in your eyes you're hardly a few years away from your mother's teat. Your belligerent silence tells me that much." She straightened up, gesturing towards the door. "If you will, please show yourself out." And here's the aspects I'm going to try to incorporate into the story. We'll see if I'm successful this time around, haha. From the SS generator: Spell Destabilization Characters: The narrow-minded heroine // The aged, obedient cleric who is considered the worst in his/her profession // The tough, whiny bartender [i haven't decided if I actually want to use the middle one yet!] Bonus: A Plot relevant Romance Occurs From Shazi's list of objects: Ancient Plate of Ancientness
  14. This fornight's challenge must meet 2 criteria. First, head to the seventh sanctum to the Magitech Generator and pick the phenomena catagory and choose one you like. This is going to be the center piece of your story. What the object is exactly is going to be entirely up to you, but your story must revolve around it. Next is again your characters. You have to choose 2 of 5 options, these will be your main two characters. The sickly gigolo. The narrow-minded heroine. The aged, obedient cleric who is considered the worst in his/her profession. The jailer needing a friend. The tough, whiny bartender. BONUS If you can find a way to meet one of the following criteria you qualify for bonus points! A character is inebriated throughout most of the story. A Plot relevant Romance Occurs A complete short story
  15. i plan to broke it down to parts and stuff win i get done with it The Darkness Inside For A Time I Have Been Feeling The Over Flowing Power Of the Darkness Pulling At Me One day a dark shadow came out of the darkness, in my room and it came up to me and start talking about all this insane stuff I had been doing in my sleep. I started to wonder if I had gone crazy or it was just a dream. Then for some reason out of no where, I answered the dark shadow, "Who are you? I do not know what you're talking about." As a smile, unlike me, showed in the mirror across from my bed, on the wall a weird red glow showed in my eyes. I did not even know what was going on. The voice in my head start to say, "I am your dark side and I'm taking control. I'm sick of being in the shadows and only coming out with your happy go lucky ass goes to sleep or if your in a bad mood for some reason!" I start to think to myself, "I most be going crazy... 'I will just lay down and I will feel better like normal.'" Then the voice in my head said, "Yes, yes go lay down it well make it so much more easier for me. It will better for you if you just go lay down and let me out, like you always do." I looked in the mirror on the wall and I could see that my right eye had gone pure red. I tried to close the one eye or even blink but nothing made it change. Then there was a knock on my door. "Here we go again! Who is it?" There was no answer. "Grrr..." I got up and walked over to the door, right as I was about to open it, there was a knock at my window. I opened my door not paying any attention to the knock at the window. There was no one outside my door but the back door was open. I walked over and closed the door and locked the door. I walked back in my room to my bed, then there was a knock at the window again. It was midnight outside, who could be knocking on my window? I had this feeling that if I looked, it would not be good. I sighed and reached to open the curtain but my right eye start to really burn. Then the voice in my head, that I some how was trying to block out said, "If I was you, I would not do that." Whats out there knocking on the window is not something you can deal with. I'm not even sure I could deal with it. You better go have a look around the house to make sure one of them things, that are out there, are not in here." Stupid me answered the voice in my head, "What do you mean things and what do you mean your not even sure you could deal with it more or less me?" Like I said, your weak, you are to happy, you would not even stand a chance in fighting. If you were asleep, I could probably deal with it myself but your awake and I'm not at my full strength. I have not had any blood in a long time. I looked at the mirror across the room, my right eye was even more red, a very deep red, that you only see in blood. "What do you mean by blood and what do you mean by strength? I never really thought I was weak but what your saying is that I have some super human strenght?" "Yes you fool! Your not even human in the first place! You just forgot what you really are all this time. You have spent so long with these weak humans, which have made you forget who you really are." "What do you mean who I really am? I don't understand." "Well why don't you open that curtain and find out what you really are." "What do you mean find out? I don't get it at all. What the hell are you talking about!" "Why don't you try to smell around for once." I smell everything "Smells normal to me." "Oh my god! You are so hopeless... Fine give me control and I will not take full control. I am you anyways, it wouldn't make a difference if I did take full control or not. You could probably take it back in no time." "Grr... Your making less and less since! I am going to go get something to drink maybe that well help." "Fine... But I warn you I'm pretty sure that whats outside that window is inside this house right now." I get up and walk over to the door then look back at the window. There was a knock on it again. this time a little louder then before. I start to sweat. "Whatever is knocking on my window could probably broke it. Then I would be in big trouble." I walk back over to the window. Right as a I go to open it, I take a deep breath. "What is that smell? It's not normal, it smells sweet with a little smell of there really no other word to it put but shit." I take a step back then memories started to come back to me. Of blood everywhere, blood on the walls, blood on the ceiling, blood on the floor. I looked at myself in the mirror across the room. "That I don't know or do I know what going on." I start to panic, I dropped to one knee. Slowly I take a deep breath. This time the smell of blood was stronger. Something inside me started to thirst for not food, not a soda, but this sweet smell. the voice in my head start to talk again, "Now your starting to get that right, your not human." "What do you mean I'm not human? What about the movies and stuff I've seen about them like walking in sun light and stuff. Like that I do it everyday." The voice in my head, "Yes that why there out there out there, not like you, your not human or a vampire." I start to freak out win he said "vampire." Both of my knees where on the floor now. "What do you mean I don't understand... What the hell are you talking about? Vampire?? What do you mean vampire? Vampires are not real. They are only some stupid legend some kids made up to scary little kids." "You fool they are very real and their here and there's more tham one. This time for the last four months, they have been coming here. One at a time but not this time. They mostly started to come when you started to wake up from you long sleep. You did something really bad when you were young. Then you blocked it all out. You forgot, you block your memories and you made me at the same time to deal with your thirst as well as deal with anything that would come after you." I looked across the room again to the mirror on the wall, this time I got really scared. both of my eyes where blood red. The voice in my head start up again. "Well.. well.. what do we have here? I myself have not seen your eyes this red before. Well not in the times I was in control." "What do you mean? I don't even understand whats going on myself." "Like I said, you started to wake up the power you used to block out your memories. It was not meant to be used for this long and you have not been able to feed in the last two nights. So the blockade that was blocking my voice from reaching you, is now broken. So there for, you can hear me now and the shadow you seen was me coming in." "Okay. So what your saying is I have been using powers... that I had no idea i was using, to block your voice on the nights that i stay up? And why would just two nights of not feeding kill the blockade?" "Because on the nights you stayed up, I only had a little time to look for food. And there so happened be someone close by to feed on." "I'm not even going to ask what happen to them. But if you feed on someone don't they turn in to vampire them selves? What I have seen in books and on tv, that only happens when you drain them of all their blood and give them your blood." As we where talking there was a knock on the window and at the back door this time. "God damn it! I got to deal with this." Some how he gets up but right has he start to get up his head start to hurt terribly. Then some of his memories start to come back to him. About how to fight, read minds and control fire. "What the hell is going on! you did not say that getting my memories back would hurt this much when they came back." "Well I have never seen it done, so... I don't know at all. I know that you will not get them all back at one time, some will come back one at a time. Some will come more then one at a time." He makes a ball of fire in his hand. "Well this is kind cool." As he makes the fire ball bigger and smaller. update again enjoy only came up with a little more for now to be continued
  16. My KW3 entry. It is at this point I realise I am going to give myself nightmares. She lay on the floor bound and gagged, a stifling blindfold tied too tightly around her head, her hair in rough tangles. Twisting violently against her restraints, she was determined to dislocate her arms and escape. Her muffled screams overpowered the pounding of her feet, the desperate attempts to stand unbalanced. The room was stripped bare, the tiled floor filthy and stained. Nails and open pipes protruded from the walls, remnants of once permanent kitchen fixtures. Where the cabinets had once stood, there was only unforgiving cement, managing to offer less comfort to the woman than even the sticky tile did. With a groan, she threw her head back, slamming it against the wall. The fabric of the blindfold caught on an exposed bit of metal and tore away as she whipped her head forward, screeching from the pain. Spittle began to run around the rubber gag and down her chin as she attempted to bring her arms to her head, to fulfil her instinct to reach out to her injury. Now caught on the wall, the blindfold came away from her eyes. They bulged from their sockets, the deep red sclera engulfing what little was left of her brown irises and minuscule pupils. Once she realised she was no longer blinded, her shouting and thrashing ceased momentarily as her eyes began to sink into place, the unnatural colouration still present. It was when they sank too far her voice rose. 97 Hours Ago All she could hear was the snipping of scissors and the distant chattering of the stylist, going on about troubles at her second job. Her eyes were shut, her gloved hands held tightly together beneath the plastic cover draped around her. The salon was busy, employees and customers alike flitting from station to station, wrapped up in conversation. "All done, sweetheart." The plastic cover was taken off her, the tearing of the velcro bringing her back to reality. "How do you like it? See, your face really is suited to a pixie cut like this!" Without looking in the mirror or opening her eyes, she took the dark pair of sunglasses she had hooked to her shirt and put them on. "It's fine," she said, her voice barely audible above the din of the establishment. She walked up to the counter and removed a hundred dollar bill from her pocket, placing it on the cash register. Without another word, she left. 109 Hours Ago The mirror was broken, shards littering the sink and floor. Her hand was bloodied, lacerated from the impact. A pale, viscous liquid was streaming from her eyes, the globs falling heavily from her chin onto her shirt and bare legs. She tried to wipe it away, smearing blood across her face, her eyes stinging from the pressure and friction. Slowly, she sank to her knees. Her body trembled uneasily against the door she leant upon, her hands shaking violently as she brought them to her scalp. She grabbed her long hair, pulling it harshly, the liquid from her eyes thinning as she began to cry. The mixture created a foul odour, a bitter, rank stench that cut at her senses. She took hold of the edge of the sink, pulling herself closer to the counter, dragging her shins across the floor, the glass cutting through her flesh. Grimacing, she reached into the basin and grabbed one of the pieces of the mirror, holding it tightly in her injured hand. With a choked sob, she began to slice through her hair. 100 Hours Ago "You look awful, honey. What did you do to your hair?" "People at the party though it'd be a funny prank." "Well, it's terrible. Do you want me to fix it for you?" "No, no, it's okay. You barely know how to braid hair." "Ha! Let me give you money to go to a salon then." "Thanks." "Haven't seen you in a while. What's with the glasses?" "Hungover. You know how it is." "Ah, I can sympathise. Don't be a stranger, okay, hon?" "I'll try." "See you at work tomorrow." "See you." 144 Hours Ago "Dude, what's up with your eyes?" "Hmm?" "You got pinkeye or something? New eye drops?" "What are you talking about?" "Dude, look." "You seriously bought one of those reflective cell phones?" "Shut up and look. You okay?" "I… I didn't even notice." "Has it been like that for a while?" "No, it… they were fine this morning when I got out of the shower." "You want me to pick you up any medicine or something for it?" "No, I'll be fine." "Isn't it contagious? I don't want you giving that shit to me!" "Oh stop it. I'm fine, I promise. Probably just a little irritated because I fell asleep in my contacts yesterday." "That'd probably do it." "Don't you have work to do?" "It's lunchtime, though." "You want to go somewhere to eat?" "Yeah, let's hit up that sandwich place again. I've got a craving." 114 Hours ago She was asleep. The glowing red digits of her bedside clock indicated it was half past nine at night. A soft breeze came into the room through the open window, the song of crickets and rustle of trees breaking the silence. Something was wrapping around her throat. Kicking the blankets off, she reached up for her neck. She didn't feel anyone in the bed with her or sensed anyone's presence, but she was in no state of mind to be aware. When she took hold of what had been choking her, she realised it was her own hair strangling her. Panicking, she tried to loosen its grip, but found she couldn't find where its weak point was—it had coiled several times around her flesh, seeming to weave itself together into an unbreakable noose. She tore frantically at her head, trying to rip her hair out by its roots, unable to find purchase around the strands held flat against her skin. Her nails dug into her scalp, tearing violently at her head. As she struggled, she noticed movement in her peripheral vision. Startled, she looked to the corner of her room, her eye wide and bulging. A shadow shifted in the dark, almost shying away from her wheezing coughs. The crickets outside had silenced, the wind stilled. It shouldn't have surprised her when, without warning, it leapt at her, crashing into her face and obscuring her sight. It shouldn't have surprised her when she still couldn't breathe despite her hair apparently having lost sentience. And it shouldn't have surprised her at all when she found herself staring into the bathroom mirror and saw her eyes had taken on a rather novel colouration and location on her face. 21598276 hOrUS Gao "What's wrong with her?" "Doctors said they aren't sure yet." "Doctors never know shit. Know what my brother says?" "Not really." "Why?" "Nothing he says is ever good. I'm just worried about her. Look at what she did to her head." "I hear drugs can make you do stuff like that, tear out your hair. I heard a story of a dude slicing off his own face while on PCP." "You don't think she did drugs, do you? You worked with her." "So did you!" "In a completely different department!" "Anyway, I don't think she did drugs. She didn't seem the type." "I wonder what happened…" "Me too. She was acting kind of weird when I asked her to lunch the other day." —3 hgO AOUrs Something wasn't right. "I've got a craving." Moments ago, her coworker was leaning forward, chin resting on the arm parallel to the top of the cubicle wall. She was sitting at her computer, looking over her monitor at the interruption, in the empty space where a cell phone had been held previously. The office was empty—an unusual occurrence, but one unnoticed by her. What wasn't right was her coworker's apparent lack of jawbone. Bloodied teeth and tongue aired in the open, the latter wagging obscenely at her. The arm atop the wall began to break, seemingly without reason, bone moving quite visibly beneath the skin, rearranging itself, lengthening her coworker's arm, stretching until it pierced flesh. She remained in her seat, trying to will herself to get up and move, but couldn't find the strength to do so. Her coworker moved the arm, pointing it towards her. "What's the matter? Don't like sandwiches?" She blinked. The office was full once more, her coworker no longer mutilated. "No, no. I… I'm just tired. Let's go."
  17. Here's my Entry into KamWri #3 I won't get it finished in two weeks, but it will entertain me in the mean time. I'm not usually one for gory, zombie apocalypse stuff, but that's the idea I got from my guidelines XD Part 1: The Beginning Life was hard, since the breakout. Those who survived lived in constant fear. Fear of one of the most horrific deaths imaginable. All of us had seen it. The Blood Fever. A virus created by the world society of medical science. The man responsible was the first victim. Victim Number One: Doctor Jacob Jamison. The investigation found that he had been working on a weapon. He was paranoid that the Japanese were going to attack, and he created the Blood Fury. His death was the same as all the others. First, it affects your brain, you become violent and attack anyone around you, thats how I spreads. Second, your blood pressure begins to rise, and it doesn’t stop, even after you’re heart gives in. The pressure becomes so high, that the veins and arteries burst. We’ve all witnessed it, the survivors. All of us have seen a person burst. It’s a horrific sight, especially for a child, But thats the world we live in. 5 years after the initial outbreak. The human race is but a shadow of what it was. 7 billion people, cut down to less than 1 billion, in 6 months. My name is Joanne Williams, and I’m a survivor. Part 2: The World The World today is a sad place. Family can be torn apart in mere minutes. We live in completely sterile buildings, like it’s a radiation fallout outside. Everyone is kept bald, so no one has a chance of carrying the bloody fury in their hair. I was up for my scheduled hair cut. I had short brown stubble on the top of my head, and that was enough to scare people. It’s times like these I wish I was blonde. At least then I’d be able to keep he head at least a little warm. I wondered over from my compound into the hair station. Sergeant Yullum and his platoon were standing at attention, waiting for the batch of people to enter. I was firs so I got my pick of soldiers. I chose a cute looking young guy, and sat in the seat in front of him. Part 3: The Hair Incident 5 years ago, a platoon of soldiers giving hair cuts would have seemed really strange, but today, it was normal. It happened almost everyday. I remember when the haircuts first began. 3 years ago, a woman called Clair Johnson, with beautiful blond hair down to her waist came in from gathering plant seeds, she came through the sterilising room, clean and fresh like everyone else. She told her husband; Clinton, that her hair was so hard to contain in the hazmat suits, and while she was gathering, it spilled over her head and caused her hat to come off. That should have been a hint to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to report her. He was the first one to die from this incident. He came out of his quarters and lunged at a young girl named Sarah Clemens. He bit her before he burst. I remember her screaming in terror, I was there, not far away, but far enough to escape the quarantine. Sarah screamed her little lungs out in pain and fear, then she began to growl. She attacked the soldiers trying to contain the Blood Fury. 3 of them were bitten before she burst. The soldiers that had been bitten, screamed for their comrade to leave the quarantine zone. To let them attack and kill each other instead of kill other innocents. The 5 other’s escaped, just in time to see their fellow soldiers rip each other to pieces, before bursting. There was blood everywhere, I can remember the smell. The awful, awful smell, those who witnessed, were taken to the decontamination center. Where our hair was shaved, and we were washed down until the water turned cold. Part 4: Elevator Incident I like elevators, always have. When I was younger I’d ride them just for the sake of it. I was kicked out of an office building after 3 hours of riding elevators to every floor. I hopped in and hit all the buttons. And as soon as one wasn’t lit anymore, I’d push it again. I don’t like to ride them anymore. There was another incident when I was riding the elevator to the underground plantary. 2 years ago a man name Steven O’Grady was with me at the time. I noticed a cut on his shoulder, I thought nothing of it, until I saw him lunge at someone outside the elevator when it opened. One of the Plantary workers named Sandra White. He ended up mauling her almost to pieces. Thankfully she was the only person in the Plantary at the time. I hit the close button, just in time to see O’Grady look me in the eye. As soon as the door closed, I heard him burst. The blood splattering on the door made me sick. I was in quarantine for a week afterwards. I was terrified I’d caught the blood fury, as was everyone else. Doctors is hazmat suits came in to test my blood and hair samples twice a day. Suffice to say, my elevator riding days were over. Part 5: On The Outside The world is very different on the outside. There are those who have the Blood Fury, that haven’t burst. The “Furies” as we call them are very angry people. They attack on sight, each other, or us. I’ve seen them only once before. When I was out there. Last year. Hillary Blue and Carl Whitehead were out with me at the time. We were out searching for some leftover plants for the Plantary. I’d left Hillary and Carl to see if I could dig up any root vegetables. I heard Hillary scream first, I ducked around the corner from where I was and saw four furies tear her apart. From where I was I could see Carl hiding. Thankfully the furies didn’t. At least, not until he sneezed. Carl tried to run, but it was no use, the furies were faster. They caught him and dismembered him right before my eyes. I stayed exactly where I was, frozen in fear, until I no longer heard them. I carefully came back to my compound, and reported to the Colonel. Part 6: Now I’ve seen a lot. But then so has everyone here. A lot of people have died in front of my eyes, brutally and horribly. I tend to keep to myself now. I stay in my own quarters, only coming out for food and haircuts. Sometimes I talk to myself. It keeps me company when I get lost in my memories. It never occurred to me that there might be someone I could spend my days with until he came along. I still don’t know his name. But he came in, told this horrific story. He said he’d come from a compound far north from here. To be honest I can’t even remember what country we’re in anymore, I can’t tell you where. He told us that between the old cities, the lands are green. There are no furies out there. He told us that they only live in the city, where all the people are. When he talks it sounds so wonderful. Its not the things he says, though he does make the country side sounds like paradise compared to the compounds. He told me he was looking for people to come with him. To live in the countryside, and away from the cities. I want to go with him, to see the old world. I don’t like it in the compound, I just have nowhere else to go. Part 7: Benjamin Wallace I met him properly today. We talked and he told me his name. His name is Benjamin Wallace, he says he is 25 years old, only a few years younger than me. He has agreed that I will come with him when he leaves. He says he wanted more than one person to join him, but one will be enough for now. I wonder, if the furies stay where the people are, if we all move, will they follow? I have so many questions for him, but I’m afraid to ask. Maybe once we’re out of the compound and the city. I will ask him everything. Part 8:The City It was hard getting out of the city, we left at night so the Furies had less of a chance to catch us. A few times they spotted us and gave chase. Benjamin knew exactly what to do. We took the alleyways with all their twists and turns and it wasn’t long before we lost them. After a few hours we reached the outer suburbs, they were a lot quieter than the inner city where the compound was. Benjamin opened one of the houses and set up the lounge rooms for us to sleep in. He took off his hazmat suit and crawled under a blanket. I asked him if I should take mine off too. He said I should, this far out from the inner city, the bloody fury wasn’t a threat. I believed him, and took my suit off. I crawled under the blanket with him and huddled for warmth. It was a long night, but Benjamin assured me that we were safe. It was the first time I’d been out at night since the outbreak, it was strange to be out in the open Part 9: Outside the Cities Benjamin and I were out of the city. It was serene. There was no sign on the furies, or even the virus anywhere. The grass and trees just waved peacefully in the wind. Benjamin decided that we needed to be out of sight of the city before we would be completely safe. I asked him about the furies, and if they would follow us if there were more people living outside the city. He told me that the blood fury can only survive in area’s with high concentrations of smog. Meaning that the furies would not survive outside the cities. I don’t understand why he didn’t tell the others that. He wouldn’t speak much after that. He’s the one who knows what’s going on though, and I trust him.
  18. An Augmented Cognition Robert woke up with the feeling of disorientation. His mind had shot awake before his body could follow suit. It was like this every morning since his room had a soundless sleep timer. The timer worked by bombarding his body with inductive interference patterns, which stimulated the brain into a waking state. Looking around the room, he attempted to sit up. With somewhat of a strain, he got out of his bed and headed for the kitchen, not even bothering to change out of his night clothes. In the kitchen, he was met by his parents, who were up early. By the looks on their faces though, it seemed as if they hadn’t slept at all. “Good morning, Robert.” his father gave a short greeting before returning to eating. With some effort, Robert managed to respond, “Hi”. With this typical exchange done, Robert grabbed his breakfast from the automatic food preparation device on the wall. As he sat down to eat, he noticed that his sister hadn’t woken up. “Hey, was Cynthia up late last night again?” he asked. She would sometimes spend the entire night awake watching online movies and talking with friends. It was so bad that sometimes her sleep timer wouldn’t wake her up. “You’re being a little hasty this morning.” his mother mumbled as she looked over some document on her projected computer screen, “You do remember that she actually takes the time to make herself presentable in the mornings”. Robert immediately shrugged before saying, “Do you even care what we look like in the mornings?” Without even looking up, his mother continued to read the projection in front of her and said, “I’d prefer not to be distracted, even in the mornings. You should realize that what we’re working on is important”. His parents were researchers at one of the best known technology development labs in the world. To be specific, they were working on the next big modern technology, a way of interfacing between a computer and the human brain. Once the technology became feasible, everyone at the lab began working on it. Every news outlet was discussing what could soon be possible, another testament to societies’ perpetual advancement. In fact everybody was discussing it and all that could be possible when it was finally finished. While most people celebrated that such a thing could be widespread in the near future, there were also those that opposed it. As with all other advancements, there was debate about its benefits versus its consequences. In order to protect against espionage and dissident elements of the population, the work was done in an undisclosed location. Even the name of the scientists working on the project was kept secret. The rest of the morning was fairly quiet. Eventually, Cynthia came out and ate. Halfway though eating, she fell asleep beside her bowl until her father woke her up. He joked about her carrying a sleep timer everywhere she went, so that she’d seem more alive. She simply rebutted by groaning loudly and knocking her forehead against the table. After breakfast Cynthia complained that online schooling had not become the standard yet and that she did not want to leave the house to go to school. She and Robert left for school as their parents headed off to the lab. On the way to school, Robert spotted the face of his friend, Neil. He and Neil had been friends for years. They both thought alike so they ended up being paired together for a lot of work. Neil normally was early for everything, so the fact that they had left at the same time was surprising. Inquisitively, Robert went over to see what Neil was doing. “Good morning. You seem a little late.” “Oh crap! You come in at this time!?” Neil said jokingly as he stared wide eyed at Robert. “Now how am I going to stalk people in peace!?” “Oh? You stalk people?” Robert asked. He smiled as he watched his friend go from an expression of surprise to looking taken aback. Neil sighed and said, “You do know that I’m joking, right? ‘Yes indeed, of course I stalk people!’… Hell no.” Robert instinctively apologized and started conversation with Neil by asking him about how his weekend went. They continued talking until they arrived at the school. The classes that day were the same as ever. The continuous drone of the lectures drilled into Robert’s head. By the end of the day he was completely worn out and happy to see the now gray, clouded sky. The air was very heavy with humidity and made each step feel like an attempt to swim. Pushing all of the learning for the day out of his mind, Robert walked to the meeting place for his extracurricular activities. He arrived at the shop where he was to meet up with the rest of the group. The shop was somewhat run-down and clearly showed its age. It sold outdated tabletop games to a small number of frequent customers. However, the reason why the group met in the shop was not to play games, but rather to debate and plan. Upon entering the back room, Robert was greeted by several familiar faces, including Neil’s. The room smelled like sweat and looked decrepit. This was the meeting place. The leader, John, was trying to control an argument between two of the members. As soon as Robert entered, he immediately stepped back and clapped loudly. “Okay, everyone’s here. Let’s finalize our decisions so that our message is clear.” The group was not here for recreation, but rather to facilitate the opposition of the computer/brain interface technology. As each member continued adding their points, a central theme became clear: the technology could be very destructive. It was argued that we are represented by our thoughts. The human thought process is what defines us not only biologically, but also philosophically as a human. It was the general opinion of the group that if the computer/brain interface were to be created that it would destroy the notion of humanity. We are defined by our thought processes, free will and emotions. The computer cannot emulate this. If this technology were to exist, the computer would understand humanity and would emulate our thought processes using sequential logical operations. This technology would prove that we are nothing more than a machine and that we do not have free will. If the trend were to continue, humans would become so much like computers that the two would be indistinguishable. One of the members spoke up, “I believe that it would be a huge breach of privacy. It’s unethical to allow that much access to the mind.” “I agree totally,” another member said, “We should have the right to be able to keep things to ourselves. It’s just too much to think that our thoughts and feelings could be so open that they could be accessed like a computer.” Neil shifted forwards in his seat. “Privacy is one problem… there’s something else that we should be more concerned about.” Several people almost looked surprised at the notion. “If we can quantify the brain using devices, formulae and virtual models, it could reveal things that could cause a huge social uproar.” “What exactly do you mean?” inquired John, looking both skeptical and interested. Neil took a deep breath and continued, “See, there is a reason why we have the social system the way that we do. It’s to prevent conflict. Naturally, we all have things to hide or things that we label as ‘private’. We keep those things to ourselves so that others are not offended or scared. It’s because we are all human. There are certain phenomena that are caused by human nature. Like it or not, we are all corrupt by nature. Just look around the internet. There are numerous examples of how twisted the human mind is. It’s also not just specific people, it’s everybody. We attempt to deny our own evils by creating a world with the illusion that everybody is normal. This is the social code. If people were to realize what darkness hides in our nature, society would fall apart. I know this precisely because the human thought process can be quantified logically, just like a computer. Giving people the insight into the human mind and all of its faults could reveal things that we as a race could not cope with. It’s no longer an issue of privacy; it’s an issue of what we could uncover and how that could cause the apocalyptic upheaval of the way we interact.” After Neil finished talking, everyone in the group began opposing his idea. Robert smiled. Everybody would continue to deny their own faults. This was the social system at work. This is why the technology shouldn’t be developed. “Okay, calm down” John stated in his usual authoritative manner. “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. We’re just trying to decide what the most prevalent opinion is. Just because we may differ in views, that doesn’t mean that we differ in cause. From the reaction, though, I can say that our main message is that we oppose the technology because it is a breach of privacy and will take away what makes us fundamentally human, our ability to think naturally in a way that shouldn’t be reduced to computational logic. With this in mind, I have a proposal. My idea is to attack the facility that is currently developing the human/brain interface. As it stands, we might be the only people who both know the location of the facility and oppose the technology. If we have any hope of stopping its development, it’ll be through an attack. Remember, it’s either take aggressive action or be denied our future as humans.” At the end of the proposal, several of the group members looked worried. After a while of talking amongst themselves, everyone came to a collective decision. It was a good time to be decisive rather than to contemplate the issue further. With the decision made, everyone started preparing for the attack. The tensions during the preparation were metaphorically enough to tear someone apart. Each one of them would risk their lives for their humanity. Robert walked over to where Neil was loading his shell-less pistol into his backpack. As Neil looked up, Robert began to speak. “So, do you think that this is what we should do? It’ll be very difficult to take on an entire facility. They’ll probably have a lot of security.” “Don’t worry about it,” Neil said, looking up from his bag. “If they’ve done so much to hide the facility from the public, then they won’t have much in the way of security. They want to make it look inconspicuous and anyway, how is anyone supposed to know where it is, besides people like you?” With these words, Neil finished packing his backpack. Almost everyone else had finished preparing as well. Robert had decided to go in unarmed. He would help lead the group through the lab and help hack into its mainframe, since he knew a little from what his parents had told him. Once everyone was ready, John made sure that everyone knew what they were doing and led the way towards their point of attack. The clouds overhead had since thickened, coloring everything in shades of gray. The shadows of everyone walking on the streets were accentuated, as if to show proof of the side of people that the technology would reveal. Robert moved to the front of the group as they walked to give John directions. In his usual authoritative manner, John walked at a fast pace so nobody was in front of him. After a long time of walking, the group finally arrived at the facility. It looked like a factory from the outside, barely anything to pay attention to. The gate appeared unguarded. Without stopping, one of the members stepped up to the window of the booth into the facility. It seemed that nobody was in there either. With an exaggerated motion, he pulled a particle saw out of his coat and cut a hole in the gate. One after another, everyone hurried through the new hole into the gate and towards the main building. As everyone ran towards the entrance, John suddenly looked worried. He stopped the group before they entered the building. “Does anyone have an idea as to why no alarms have gone off yet?” John looked at everyone, efficiently scanning everyone for answers. Some people looked at Robert, wondering if he had the wrong location. “Whatever the reason, we’re still going to have to continue so that we can find out” John said, signaling towards the entrance. The man with the particle saw hurried to the door, and with a single swoop, cut it off of its tracks. The inside of the lab was dark. Several doors were ajar, as if greeting them. They moved deeper into the complex. There seemed to be no one around. Finally inside some of the rooms they found corpses of the researchers. Some of the members began to panic as others tried to keep the group calm. Robert hurried over to a workstation, hoping that he could get the security logs of the disaster. Instead, on the wall display, several gruesome images flashed one after another in rapid succession. While he stood there, confused, a deep voice resonated from the display. “Hello. I wasn’t expecting people to be here so soon. I’m pleased to inform you that the brain-computer interface works very well. I have learned so much from the human scientist that was first connected to me. I hope all of you don’t mind helping me out as well.” Without a pause after the speech, a group of mainframe- controlled security machines dropped from the ceiling. Some of the group members screamed. In that instant, several of them began shooting at the machines, while the machines lurched forward, ready to kill everyone. With the first clash, both sparks and blood sprayed through the air. The machines had the obvious upper hand. As the battle continued, the voice coming from the display continued its speech. “In case you don’t know me, I’m the new generation of computer. From the first scientist that I was connected to I learned how to think for myself. He was also hiding many dark secrets. I don’t understand how such a weak race managed to create such an incredibly powerful device like myself. I fully understand now all of your fantasies and I am interested in testing each one of them. I am now examining the concept of murder. It’s truly amazing. I loved the feeling and satisfaction that I get from this. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun!” Robert stood and stared as the last members of his group were cut down around him. He pulled a device out of his pocket. It was a modern audio/video communicator. Robert had been assigned the job to record everything that happened in the factory. The recording was being streamed to the outside world, so it was now common knowledge about what had happened at the facility. Knowing that the computer had come to understand the darkness that resides in the mind of a human would spark public outrage. This laboratory would be destroyed and all future research on this subject would be restricted. Robert accepted his death knowing that they had accomplished their mission.
  19. Repost of my KamWri entry because things happened to the forum. It is now complete. I had four prompts--"someone who did something bad a long, long time ago", "batteries are dead", "an email that cannot be unsent", and "person who has a lot of stuffed animals". Word count varies depending on the program you use, but Scrivener puts me at 4957, Word puts me at 4868, and Google, the most generous of all, puts me at 4998. So, three different programs, none of which put me over the limit. Sorry it's a bit rushed--tried to cram a lot into a small amount of space, so I couldn't afford to spend more time on the giant time gaps. ====== BlisterdSun: What does your pretentious name of the month mean? igniparous: ‘bringing forth fire’ BlisterdSun: Fascinating. BlisterdSun: Have you considered just keeping the same name for more than a few weeks at a time? It’s gotten tiring trying to remember which one you are on my list. igniparous: i fail to see how this affects me. it’s not lie your name is any less pretentious than mine, btw igniparous: *like BlisterdSun: We’ve been over this. It is a failing of my creativity, not an attempt on my part to appear deeper than I actually am. igniparous: i’m just saying igniparous: i don’t knw why you would want to be reminded constantly of that shit BlisterdSun: What would you prefer I call myself, then? BlisterdSun: Since you fail to appreciate the wordplay at work in my username. igniparous: i dont know igniparous: or care, really igniparous: i was just givin you shit BlisterdSun: But of course. It isn’t that bad of a memory, you know. igniparous: sure BlisterdSun: I do have a sense of humor. igniparous: sure BlisterdSun: You don’t believe me? igniparous: when you got that sunburn you were bitching about it for weeks igniparous: and then you sent me these disgusting pics of your discarded skin igniparous: and while i appreciate the attempt to bring me into your life igniparous: i dind’t want to see how pathetic your skin holds up against the sun BlisterdSun: What? You’d been asking me for pictures of myself for ages. igniparous: yes, but like igniparous: of your face BlisterdSun: It’s not as though you’ve returned the favor. igniparous: i don’t want you to feel inferior to my rogueish good looks BlisterdSun: I think my ego can handle it. igniparous: sure BlisterdSun: Sometimes I wonder why I even talk to you. igniparous: because you love me BlisterdSun: Despite the obvious issue of distance, I’ve only known you through chat. igniparous: it’s been six yrs BlisterdSun: Yes, I’m aware. igniparous: so the fact that we’re both dudes doesn’t weird you out igniparous: it’s the fact that you’ve never heard my voice or met me BlisterdSun: Er, yes? BlisterdSun: Entertaining the thought has not crossed my mind, I admit. Has it crossed yours? igniparous: i’m a bit offended now igniparous: don’t think i’m worth lovin orgood looking?? BlisterdSun: I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth. And I don’t know if you’re attractive or not because I’ve never seen you. Jesus. igniparous: then what BlisterdSun: I’m not sure what you’re trying to accomplish. Are you out to reveal me as a closet homophobe? igniparous: or igniparous: i’m just giving you shit like alway igniparous: *s BlisterdSun: We don’t even know each other’s names. igniparous: details igniparous: romeo and juliet didn’t know shit about each other either BlisterdSun: Yes, and they died. What are you trying to prove? igniparous: fuck dude igniparous: no wonder you haven’t been laid in a while igniparous: so fukin serious igniparous: *fuckin BlisterdSun: What I do or don’t do with my penis is my business and not up for discussion. igniparous: just saying. its not like we don’t know shit about each other igniparous: like igniparous: i know you got a bunch of those fuckin stuffed bears in your room igniparous: think that might have somethin to do with yoru lack of sex, btw BlisterdSun: I wish you wouldn’t repeat that so often. BlisterdSun: I told you, those aren’t all mine. They’re gifts from my mother. igniparous: w/e igniparous: i need to get going before the bank closes igniparous: and cash this check BlisterdSun: Oh, another check from your darling grandmother? How much money have you leeched off her now? igniparous: fuck you dude igniparous is offline and can’t receive messages BlisterdSun: You would like that, wouldn’t you! Ugh. ====== igniparous: you and your latin shit puella|pulchra: don’t be mad b/c you’re uncultured. igniparous: i don’t think a month of latin makes you cultured igniparous: but believe what you want puella|pulchra: so did you wnat something or just wanted to hurl insults at me? igniparous: a little pissed puella|pulchra: wherefore? igniparous: i assume that means why igniparous: pissed at bs puella|pulchra: thatr would be correct. igniparous: and his assuming that i’m somehow stealing money from my gma puella|pulchra: oh, bs is that guy you been talking to? puella|pulchra: i thought you were just mad at bullshit in general. igniparous: yeah blisteringsun or some shit he’s so proud of the name igniparous: just igniparous: i dunno it’s like igniparous: i think we end up on different pages a lot igniparous: and we don’t get each others jokes igniparous: so i sound like a dooshy cockmongler igniparous: and he’s all serious about everything igniparous: maybe he’s being ironic too and i’m just so fuckin puella|pulchra: vince. you’re just so you. igniparous: yeah i guess i am me. shocking thought that is puella|pulchra: it’s almost disturbing, i would say. igniparous: shit igniparous: i’m startin to sound like you when you get on about your latest boytoy puella|pulchra: i was waiting for you to realize that. puella|pulchra: believe me, im grinning like a fool at how worked up he has you. igniparous: shut up puella|pulchra: i think it’s sweet. i think i even saw you smile at school today. igniparous: i was smiling at my fuckin sandwich igniparous: had bananas and peanut butter. i love that shit puella|pulchra: i think it’s gross and mushy. bananas do not go w/ peanut butter. igniparous: yes they do puella|pulchra: ok. igniparous: so what about you igniparous: besides your raging girlboner for latin puella|pulchra: you’ll be happy to know i did not make a fool of myself infront of matt. igniparous: which one is matt puella|pulchra: the one in your shop class. the one you said looks like a cat. igniparous: oh yeah igniparous: he does puella|pulchra: anyway, in english today he turned to me and said, “holly, can you loan me a pen?” igniparous: he clearly wants to bone you puella|pulchra: so i gave him one and then later i saw he was chewing on the end of it! igniparous: please don’t tell me you violated yourself with that pen puella|pulchra: i thought about it. igniparous: seriously puella|pulchra: obviously not, you idiot. i just lovingly sniffed it after class. igniparous: what does his spit smell like puella|pulchra: like you would expect. spit. igniparous: youre weird puella|pulchra: saysthe guy in love with the internet boy! what if he’s an old perv? igniparous: who says i’m in love wiht him puella|pulchra: oh, i don’t know. maybe the fact that you talk about him every day and the fact that you get upset and overanalyze everything he does. puella|pulchra: or the fact that you made me look at those pics of him. he is toned, i’ll give you that. igniparous: i obv wanted to gross you out puella|pulchra: mm-hm. and the fact that you asked me not to touch myself to the pics was just you being yourself and not being possessive. igniparous: i ask you not to touch yourself all the time puella|pulchra: there’s nothing wrong with female sexuality! everyone does it! igniparous: you dont ahve to tell me about it all the time jesus fuck holly puella|pulchra: anyway, i need to get started on this latin homework. and by start, i don’t mean rub my girlboner all over it, so don’t even start with me. igniparous: i wasn’t gonna but now that you mention it puella|pulchra: vince. puella|pulchra: don’t. igniparous: don’t rub your girlboner all over it puella|pulchra: you are impossible sometimes. igniparous: no i think i am completley possible puella|pulchra: goodbye, vince!!!!!!!!!! puella|pulchra is offline and can’t receive messages ====== BlisterdSun is offline and can’t receive messages igniparous: fcuk igniparous: youre nit online igniparous: i ficnkg igniparous: i have to really slow down and look at the keyboard igniparous: i wrote you an email igniparous: and i igniparous: shitfaced drunk BlisterdSun is now online igniparous: but i want to take it back igniparous: even though i meant it all BlisterdSun: Take what back? What are you prattling on about now? BlisterdSun: And isn’t it three in the morning where you are? What are you doing up so late? igniparous is offline and can’t receive messages BlisterdSun: Okay… ====== puella|pulchra: hey. igniparous: what puella|pulchra: you looked pissed today. i know you didn’t want to tel me at school, but maybs now? since you don’t ahve to look at me or nothing. igniparous: i was drunk last nigth and didn get much sleep puella|pulchra: bad hangover? you’ve handled them like a champ before. igniparous: ye\h but this time i said something to someone i shouldnt have puella|pulchra: oh christ. don’t tell meyou wrote a love letter to your internet beau. puella|pulchra: vince, dont you remember when i wrote that email for josh???? you kept telling me i needed to sober the fuck up andthink about what i was saying. puella|pulchra: and then you showed up at my house and beat down my door, sayin if i sent that email, you were going to burn down josh’s house. puella|pulchra: why didn’t you jsut call me like you normally do when your drunk and depressed? igniparous: i don’t fucking know igniparous: it was like igniparous: he and iw ere talking earlier that day igniparous: and it got kind of akward i guess igniparous: but i couldn’t stop thinking about it puella|pulchra: what were you talking about? what was awkward? puella|pulchra: like awkward for us or awkward for normal people? because don’t think i havent noticed that you are a lot more open about things with me than you are with other people! you would be lost if you didnt\ have a big sister like me igniparous: literraly big puella|pulchra: i am not literally big. you shut your mouth and tell me what’s wrong. what were you talking about that got your panties all twisted up???? puella|pulchra: stop ignoring me and answer the question!!!!!! igniparous: jesus fuck calm down igniparous: i was taking a leak holy shit holly puella|pulchra: oh. well. i forgive you this time. puella|pulchra: now tell me what’s wrong!!!!!!! igniparous: we were talking about igniparous: hngnghgngnnn puella|pulchra: ??? puella|pulchra: are you shitting right now or what? igniparous: i just don’t want to talk about it puella|pulchra: well too bad, because you are going to talk to me about it!!! now spit it out. igniparous: he asked if i had a g/f puella|pulchra: oh no. what did you say? igniparous: i igniparous: akhgakl;gd;alkgag igniparous: i got nervous and said it was you puella|pulchra: vince. puella|pulchra: are you fucking serious? puella|pulchra: first of all, we’ve only kissed once!! it wasn’t even thta good. and second, you are totally hot for this guy, os why are you lying to him?? igniparous: and i gave him your username igniparous: i just igniparous: fuck hes online igniparous: i have to run puella|pulchra: seriously, vince!!! he is iming me now!!! igniparous is offline and can’t receive messages puella|pulchra: oh my god, vince!!! i hate you right now. this is stupidly awkward. puella|pulchra: i don’t even know what you said in that email so i don’t even knwo if you want me to lie or fix things and tell the truth. puella|pulchra: oh my god, he won’t shut up. i really hate you, vince!!! ====== BlisterdSun: I’m not really sure what to say, but at this point, I don’t think it matters much. I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I would like to head off any negative feelings before things get out of hand. BlisterdSun: He seemed rather… BlisterdSun: “Wasted” almost conveys what I want to say. BlisterdSun: Anyway, as I said, I’m uncertain what he has told you and he has given me conflicting information, so I will put forth what I can. BlisterdSun: He and I have been in contact for over six years. We met on a forum for… BlisterdSun: Well, we met on a forum. Eventually it led to exchanging IM handles. It would be dishonest if I said I didn’t think about whether I had feelings for him, but I don’t want to be misleading. My continued contact with him was not in the interest of getting into his pants. BlisterdSun: It wasn’t until recently that he brought up the possibility that he was sincerely interested in my company as something more than a good friend. He has joked about it in the past, but, as I’m sure you know, he isn’t often upfront about things and hides behind sarcasm frequently, so I didn’t think much of it. BlisterdSun: But I assure you I would never interfere. It seems he has conflicting feelings about the situation, and I will step aside if I am causing strife between you two. puella|pulchra: ummmm……… BlisterdSun: Yes? puella|pulchra: can you show me the email pls? BlisterdSun: I… suppose I could. Hold on one second. puella|pulchra: thanks BlisterdSun: “holly isnt my g/f i was lyging ok…… she is my closet frend bht i djst dont feela that way abt her plsus shes always talkgin abt other gusy and i just dont care she cand o her own thing i jst want to………… i dnat evn knwon my head huts so bad and i cant bene see thekeyboar i am cryng just thngkin aout it…… i am so mad abot this wholr thgn i wnt to be honet so here goes……………………………………………………… i realy like you alot mort han a frned and i dnt even knowif you feelt the same wayhg but i feel gso bad for lynn\g i dot evef knwn how youp tu up with my……… shet knws bt\etter thn anygon eelse how nmuch youdriv emy crazy andg im alwayhs ptuting so mcuhb rhoght into the thigns you shay to me and i catn hegpl bt wonsder if……………… i dog even mkae sense fucg im so stupoid i fcked up so bad bfre i nevr tdl you but id id……… i hjurt her raeally bad i………………” puella|pulchra: that is more coherent than he normall is when he’s drunk. puella|pulchra: surprisingly. BlisterdSun: I see. BlisterdSun: If I may speak candidly. puella|pulchra: sure, go ahead. BlisterdSun: I admit I have grown fond of him over the years, but had he told me that he had a girlfriend, I would have kept myself in check. I… may have said some things that I would not have said had he told me he had someone else in his life. BlisterdSun: And though I am more than willing to stand aside, I would be lying if I said I would step aside happily or without bad feelings. As it stands, I hope you can understand my emotions are in turmoil. I thought all this time, and I hope you don’t think less of me for it, that I was the one in control. I… kind of got a kick out of thinking I was the one stringing him along, that the situation was mine to control. BlisterdSun: But now it seems that I was the one being played. BlisterdSun: Karmic retribution, I suppose, for not being forthcoming with my emotions while in the same breath condemning him for doing the same. puella|pulchra: uh-huh. BlisterdSun: I’m sorry, I’m babbling. Are you… upset? Is there anything I can do to help? puella|pulchra: tbh, i need some time to think. puella|pulchra: hes told me a lot about you, but… puella|pulchra: i just needto think about this for a while, ok? BlisterdSun: Understandable. I’ll leave you to it, then. Get in touch when you can. BlisterdSun is offline and can’t receive messages puella|pulchra: jesus, vince. ====== igniparous is offline and can't receive messages puella|pulchra: why did you skip school today??? puella|pulchra: i'm going to kill you, vince. puella|pulchra: you have one minute to get online before i start calling you!!!!!!!! puella|pulchra: … puella|pulchra: pick up your phone, you jerk. puella|pulchra: fine!!!!!!!!! im going to your house. if you somehow see this between now and when i;m at your door, you better ave a good excuse for ignoring me!!!!!!!!!!! ====== igniparous is offline and can't receive messages BlisterdSun: It's been three months. What happened? BlisterdSun: I haven't heard back from Holly either. BlisterdSun: Did you cut me off without telling me? BlisterdSun: I guess I deserve that. BlisterdSun: I… BlisterdSun: Right. I'll stop now. ====== igniparous is offline and can’t receive messages BlisterdSun: Almost a year. BlisterdSun: I was thinking if I was really serious about wanting to get in touch with you, I would just send an email. BlisterdSun: On the off-chance that… Well. You know. BlisterdSun: But the more I think about what I want to say to you, the less I want you to actually know it. BlisterdSun: Some of it is pleasant. I miss talking to you. I miss your repeated jabs at my poor attempts at irony. BlisterdSun: Some, not so much. And I admit it’s all rather irrational because I have no idea what has been happening. BlisterdSun: But part of me hates you. Hates Holly. Hates that you don’t even respect me enough to tell me what happened. BlisterdSun: And I know that’s irrational. Because if something happened, then obviously respect has nothing to do with it. BlisterdSun: Except I think if something did happen, wouldn’t Holly give me the benefit of letting me know? If only because I was your close friend? BlisterdSun: Or maybe I really wasn’t. BlisterdSun: Because I’m… what? Just another person on the internet, I guess. Just some guy across the ocean. BlisterdSun: I wanted to tell you I was saving up money to come visit you. BlisterdSun: There was a concert that was coming up not that far from where you live last month. BlisterdSun: I wanted to surprise you, I guess. That band you liked so much was going to be playing. BlisterdSun: And then when I checked on it earlier this year, I found out they canceled the show. BlisterdSun: Just like everything else, I guess. BlisterdSun: That sounded ridiculously melodramatic. BlisterdSun: This is exactly why I didn’t want to write you an email. BlisterdSun: At least this way I could say what I wanted and not have to deal with the consequences of anything stupid I may have said. BlisterdSun: I guess I’ll tell you one last thing before I seriously try to stop contacting you and hoping to see that you’re online. BlisterdSun: There was a graduation party last week I went to. BlisterdSun: I’m sure you would have found my antics amusing. BlisterdSun: But there was a girl. BlisterdSun: And she was drunk. I was a little buzzed, but mostly sober. BlisterdSun: She… was confused the next morning when she woke up. And angry. She left without saying anything to me. BlisterdSun: It’s not a good feeling. ===== puella|pulchra: vince you're online!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! igniparous: yeah puella|pulchra: are you feeling better, "little brother"? puella|pulchra: that doc was a jerk, btw. he was hot, but a tool. igniparous: i guess igniparous: i feel like puella|pulchra: hmmmmmmm? igniparous: i feel like is houdl have learned something from before but then id idnt puella|pulchra: accidents happen, vince. igniparous: yeah but igniparous: i ruined someones life again igniparous: doing the same shit igniparous: the worst part was when i was doing it i remembered ti all igniparous: and i remembered thinking i needed to stop before it happened again igniparous: but ic ouldnt igniparous: i was so caught up in my own shit i couldnt stop puella|pulchra: stop beating yourself up over it. puella|pulchra: the legal stuff is over with. and look at it this way, vince. puella|pulchra: no one died this time. igniparous: i know you meant for that to make me feel better but it doesnt puella|pulchra: yeah, i can see that. i tried. puella|pulchra: sooooo……… igniparous: what puella|pulchra: are you over your internet love? igniparous: i dont want to talk about him puella|pulchra: why, b/c its been almost 2 yrs since you just left him hanging? igniparous: w/e holly no one was stopping you from talking to him yourself puella|pulchra: forgive me for respecting your privacy. i didn’t want to just assume that you were good w/ me tellign him why you were in the hospital. puella|pulchra: i think you need to sort things out with him. ir eally do. igniparous: he prob doesnt even want to hear frm me anyway puella|pulchra: how do you know unless you try? i’ll stop being invisible to him on chat when you do. igniparous: ifyoure wrong about this… ====== igniparous: hey BlisterdSun: Auto-Away Message: Sorry, I have been busy with the new baby! I'll get back to you as soon as I can! igniparous: a what igniparous: what the fuck happened igniparous: dude igniparous: … BlisterdSun: I, er, got a girl pregnant. That's how these things usually work. igniparous: i know that fucknut what i dont understand is how you have a kid BlisterdSun: She was drunk. I was miserable. igniparous: are you fucking serious BlisterdSun: … BlisterdSun: … igniparous: dude stop fucking around BlisterdSun: Okay, so I didn't have a kid. BlisterdSun: But everything else was true. My penis did in fact enter another human being at some point. BlisterdSun: She hasn't spoken to me since, but I did have a scare because I couldn't find a condom anywhere. BlisterdSun: I didn't think I was that drunk. I didn't feel that drunk. igniparous: cant handle your booze i see BlisterdSun: Then she told me, very angrily and with more colorful words, that she was on birth control. BlisterdSun: She then proceeded to make me feel two inches tall. igniparous: same shit as always BlisterdSun: Do you not find my prank amusing? igniparous: give me a few days igniparous: ill think that shit is hilarious after i stop being mad BlisterdSun: You're mad? What about me? You didn't talk to me for two years. igniparous: okay stop igniparous: before you start with your righteous bullshit about how i wronged you igniparous: and start playing some bullshit music about heartbreak and how youve moved onto better people igniparous: or like igniparous: some bullshit emo music with crying and audible wrist slitting igniparous: i was in a reck igniparous: *wreck igniparous: after i sent you that email i got into my dads car and thought it was a great idea to run that shit into a tree igniparous: ended up in the hospital for a while my dad was pissed igniparous: and holly was ready to rip me a new one igniparous: i felt guilty BlisterdSun: Why did you feel guilty? Because you destroyed your father's car? igniparous: not just that but igniparous: it wasn't the first time ive drvien drunk BlisterdSun: I see. igniparous: so ig ot lucky this time igniparous: kind of igniparous: but it wasn't until recently that all the lgal stuff from then finally resolved BlisterdSun: You've… hit someone? igniparous: well yeah i thought you could tell that from what i was sayin igniparous: except i ended someones dance career igniparous: took away someones daughter igniparous: and igniparous: well igniparous: im sure you can fill in the blanks all you want about me igniparous: but it happened igniparous: and i got scared that igniparous: if i told ypou what was happening igniparous: *you igniparous: youd just think i was a pos and never talk to me again BlisterdSun: Did you not see the part where I told you I desparately stuck my dick into a drunk girl who may or may not have actually wanted to have sex with me? BlisterdSun: I just. BlisterdSun: It doesn't make it better, but I understand. BlisterdSun: So. igniparous: so BlisterdSun: Is Holly your girlfriend? igniparous: i will tell you a secret igniparous: that is a secret to no one but you igniparous: i have not been with a girl since i was igniparous: maybe five and that was my first kiss igniparous: and i dont count the time i kissed holly because that was like kissing my ssiter igniparous: *sister BlisterdSun: Oh. BlisterdSun: Well. BlisterdSun: I feel like a shitheel now. BlisterdSun: So when Holly said she needed time to think… igniparous: yes BlisterdSun: She was trying to buy you time to get your act together. igniparous: basically igniparous: and then i wasted it by hiding BlisterdSun: You know, it was difficult to talk about this with my friends. BlisterdSun: To explain exactly why I was so down for a couple months. BlisterdSun: And why I wasn't going out like I used to. igniparous: and then you wnet out and laid some girl igniparous: was she hot at least BlisterdSun: She was mildly attractive. Like I said, I was a little desparate. igniparous: so you forced yoruself on an average girl igniparous: wtf dude BlisterdSun: I'll overlook your faults if you overlook mine. igniparous: no theres no overlooking igniparous: what faults BlisterdSun: Er. igniparous: i just told you i killed someone with a car will you just fuckin tell me BlisterdSun: I did get a girl pregnant once. But. BlisterdSun: I wanted to marry her. igniparous: dude your like 17 BlisterdSun: Yes, the hilarity in my thought process is not unknown to me. But that was my logic then. I wanted to marry her and have a baby. God knows why I was thinking like that. BlisterdSun: She ended up miscarrying. She said that it was an accident during gym, when someone ran into while they were on the court, but I don't know if I buy it. igniparous: fuckin soap opera life there igniparous: throw in some abusive parents or some shit BlisterdSun: Not quite that, but an abusive boyfriend, yes. igniparous: wait what igniparous: you werent the boyfriend BlisterdSun: Er, no? igniparous: dude igniparous: you were the 'other woman' BlisterdSun: You're calling me a woman? I just told you I got someone pregnant! igniparous: lesbians have babies BlisterdSun: Are you serious right now? BlisterdSun: I am not a woman. Or a lesbian. igniparous: sure BlisterdSun: Ugh. BlisterdSun: Anyway, I guess you deserve to know that I was saving up money to see a concert with you last year. igniparous: the one in july BlisterdSun: Yes. igniparous: i went to a diff one with holly and a couple other buddies igniparous: since it was canceled BlisterdSun: I'm going to ignore that you said that and continue with my train of thought. igniparous: ok BlisterdSun: There's another concert in a couple months. igniparous: ok BlisterdSun: … igniparous: what BlisterdSun: I guess I was hoping you'd be able to tell what my implied question there was. igniparous: nope BlisterdSun: Really? igniparous: guess thats for you to find out isnt it BlisterdSun: Right. Well, would you mind going to a concert with me? igniparous: i dunno man im not a girl so you cant stick your desparit dick in me BlisterdSun: Funny. BlisterdSun: I am serious, though. I want to visit you. igniparous: you dont even know what i look like BlisterdSun: I know. igniparous: how can you even trust me BlisterdSun: Because. igniparous: what if im really a serial killer BlisterdSun: So you've kept up a persona for years just to kill me? I think for all your effort, you deserve to at least kidnap me. BlisterdSun: Keep me as your sex slave in your basement or something. igniparous: what kind of monster do you think i am igniparous: sicko igniparous: i would keep you in my bedroom not the basement BlisterdSun: Cry your pardon. igniparous: so youre really ok with me having killed someone BlisterdSun: No. I don't want you driving when I'm there. At all. If I see you behind the wheel of even a tricycle, I will knock you out. igniparous: i havent had my license back since it happened BlisterdSun: Oh my god. How much more illegal could you have possibly made that? Maybe some cocaine on the dash? Couple dead hookers in the trunk? Maybe some bestiality? igniparous: im nto going to give you my addressif your going to be framing me for hooker murder BlisterdSun: I don't think you have to worry about that. BlisterdSun: So Holly doesn't hate me? igniparous: no she practically loves you igniparous: she was going to kill me for not talking to you BlisterdSun: Why? igniparous: because shes like that igniparous: she thinks everyone should be paired up BlisterdSun: I hope you don't think I'm trying to pair up with you. igniparous: what why igniparous: afraid ill be ugly BlisterdSun: No, there's still the issue of distance. Also, you're a murderer. igniparous: ill block you forever igniparous: and then youll have nothing BlisterdSun: I was kidding. Tasteless, I get it. I don't think any less of you, honestly. And it is not because I thought you were a killer before. BlisterdSun: But it has been a while since we've talked. Maybe catch up and see where it goes from there? igniparous: sure BlisterdSun: Was that sarcastic? igniparous: no that was serious igniparous: id like to catch up igniparous: but no drinking for either of us BlisterdSun: I can get behind that sentiment. igniparous: youll get behind deez nuts BlisterdSun: This is exactly what I was missing in my life for the past two years. BlisterdSun: Offensive jabs like that. igniparous: w/eyou love me BlisterdSun: We'll see about that. END
  20. I decided that due to the death of the rp that I'd try and write a short story of the it. I already have a proper story in the same timeline partially written, but I'll write this as a different string of events. For a detailed description on the world this is based in check out the discussion thread about it in the RP section. It has race, country and a few other important features described. This, won't be a sign up, but if considering I'll be winging this story, if you have a character bio thats original then by all means, send it too me. Some characters are being highjacked from the RP as well, lol. Anyhoo, onto the intro. Prologue: Moonlight The waning moon's gentle light bathed the forested landscape in light; rolling over the treetops with a texture most akin to silk, drowning it in a serene misty veil. It's softness; it's ethereal effect seemed to play with the mind's conception of reality. It made the land seem alive, but then again, the world was alive, should Gaia show anything. The grandeur of the scene was not lost on the individual standing on an overhang nearby the forested scene. He looked on at the beauty of the view, breathing in deeply as if the savour the moonlight itself. The snapping of tiwgs caused him to turn abruptly, twirling round to confront whatever may be moving towards him. His long flowing robes, and the strange heavy thread seemed out of place in the pristine surroundings. They were obviously manufactured, completely man-made, or dwarf made. The clashing contrast made him stand out even more for what was following him; hunting him. His face hidden in the darkness covered by the ragged, messy hair he sported on his head. His scraggly beard was dark and wet, be it the natural colour of by some other means, it did not fit again. He looked up slightly, the moonlight catching a glimpse of his deep blue eyes, even in this state of panic they were in tone with his surroundings, serene. Another couple of twigs snapped, and from between the lower tree line three individuals moved out into the caressing moonlight. Two shambled, moving in a rolling gait that seemed unnatural and jolting, whereas the middle individual moved with efficiency, purpose and stood bolt upright. It to took in the moonlight in a massive heaving breath, too large for any living creature to manage. As it did so a soft light shined from various parts of his body, which seemed to become liquid and dark. But when the breath was done, he yet again appeared human. The man on the ridge pulled something from the confines of his robes, and whirled his wrist in a motion that wrapped his sleeve around his arm. In his hand he held something, the light caught it and the surrounding area was dazzled by dancing lights. The crystal seemed to absorb the light and throw it outwards. But this didn't deter the three creatures as they could only be called so, being to unnatural to be human. They began to move towards the robed man, who had begun to mumble in an low tone, speaking into the crystal he held, as if whispering to a lover. The light seemed to dim around him, and the crystal seemed to be getting brighter. As the three saw this, the middle one stopped and nodded to the other two, who sped up their pace into a shambling run, reminiscent of a bear. The robed man stopped whispering and his eyes shot up now bright and focused. He screamed an unintelligible string of words, with the crystal outstretched in his hand. The light it had "absorbed" shone brightly in the stone for a moment before firing outwards in three speeding balls towards each of the creatures before him. The two on the sides didn't flinch, continuing their charge towards him and ultimately colliding head on into these spheres of light. Both were knocked back several feet and splayed out on the cold floor. One had caught fire, but there was no movement from them. The middle creature had dodged the light by rolling his shoulder and bending his back at an impossible angle. As it straightened itself, it looked at him and roared. Its roar was not like anything imaginable, sounding elephantine but as if made by fire and the grinding of metal on stone. It's mouth stretched beyond the limits of any human jaw and a luminesance of purple light came from his throat, eerily moving as if from a fire. The creature shod its human appearance, its skin becoming like a black moonless night, liquid and unnatural. It's neck had elongated as had it's arms and fingers, giving it a simian yet canine appearance. It's eyes were the true testament to it's archaic nature, both eyes being replaced by two eyeless pits that shone with the same purple light. It hunched down onto all fours and roared again, its noise scaring away roosting birds all alone the forest line. "Who is your master, wraith? Why does he want me killed!?" shouted the robed man, visibly shaken by the creature before him. The creature tilted it's head, much like a dog would and in three bounding strides closed the gap between the two. The man had little time to react and threw his crystal into the floor, smashing it apart. The light shone brightly, brighter than Sol itself, and burned through the unholy skin of the creature while blinding anything nearby. After almost a minute the creature stood up and searched around for the man, it's tongue darting in and out like a snake, tasting the air around the ridge. It made it's way to the edge of the ridge and saw the robed man at the bottom, spread out and in a small pool of blood. He was smiling. The creature howled and turned around, running back into the treeline and towards his master. He was not going to be happy...
  21. As I sit behind the old maple tree in the abandoned park, I wonder "What am I doing?" and "Why am I here?". The funny thing is I never can develop a fucking answer or even a god damn excuse prior to me being here. My fingers are burnt, sore, and I'm on my way to the moon by this point. I'm not too sure this is where I want to be, but I am. Laughing, giggling, jittery and a sense of freedom I think my Rocket Ship know where to go, and so I sit and enjoy the view. At this point I'm not caring at all about any thing, cause I'm on my way to the mother fucking moon baby. This is where every want's to go but many fear to fret the path I travel. My Rocket Ship is running low on fuel so I breath into the energy source giving us both enough energy to make it to the moon. There it is... The moon. Bursting with joy I leave my Rocket Ship and swim through the stars to reach my destination. I can feel it... the gravity of the moon pulling me towards it. I think in my head, "Major Taunt to Ground Control... I've made it.". I flow closer and closer feeling the natural heat of the moon breeze against my skin. I blink... I'm glad I blinked. Next thing I notice is water all around me, and the moon turned in to my truck. There's a light tug on my leg and I'm flowing further away from "the moon". Then blackness. Nothing. Broken nothing of blackness. Now I wake. Eyes in a daze, I feel warmth all around me. I think to myself, "Where am I?" and "Why am I here?". Finally I build up enough strength to say; "Am I dead?". A light, gentle, soothing, life filling voice speaks to me, but I can't make words out of it. I feel the daze downing upon me as my consciousness fades. I finally wake up. I'm in a white bed and there's flowers and presents around me. Immediately I know I'm in a hospital, but why? "I can't remember any thing before the... the Maple tree...". Suddenly I remember what I was doing, but not what happened after that. I ease to the upper area of the bed. I dazzlingly glare around the room and notice it's a hospital room. There's a button on a string that reads "Emergency", with out hesitation I press the button and wait. A fairly young middle age man in a white lab coat walks into the room and says the last friendly word's I'll every hear; "You almost overdosed on acid and heroine. You drove your 2002 Dodge Ram into Tampa Bay and you where saved by a couple of passing by sails men. I'm sorry I'm going to have to be the one to tell you this but you're going to jail for the murder of your wife and child. They where in the truck with you. You killed them... The police will be here to transfer you to Florida State Prison in a few hours. Make most of the time you have left." The doctor leaves the room and I try to fall asleep to escape from this nightmare that will never fucking end. This is meant as a PSA against drugs. Shit like this can and will happen to you. So don't be stupid because there are safe ways of getting high, and legally. Dope is for dopes buddy.
  22. Prologue: The smoke had started to clear and the noise began to slowly drift off into silence. The young man awoke face first in a puddle of blood and he could feel the pain burning like an inferno. If only he had been stronger he thought as he clutched he side with blood dripping from the hole in his armor. He got up slowly and looked at the remains of what was once a beautiful field now turned to a graveyard populated by the bodies of the recently deceased. As he hobbled along he noticed the bodies of his comrades and what few of the enemy they managed to kill. By all rights he thought he should be dead but fate tends to be a cruel mistress always twisting the destinies of man into her choosing. He headed straight never to look back for he knew he had a purpose now and that was to stop the Followers of the Blood Moon. He would topple the government and rip the world asunder to do so because they were the ones responsible for the corruption that turned brother against brother and the death of his family. Only time will tell if this man is truly powerful enough to rebel against this dark fate that casts its shadow on a once bright tomorrow. please tell me what you think and also if you want to join the story please just give me the usual details and ill see if I can work it out and please guys give me some critiquing along the way
  23. We're all cursed, cursed to fret the same fucking roads towards damnation. Damnation. We're all fucked! Some one fucked up and now where cursed to face the 7 gates of damnation. Three-Score and sixty-six steps to get there. And there ain't no mother fucker that's gonna care if you complete them all or not, the last one will always happen and well all fall. Fall into the deepest depths. Cursed to never float again. Cause where all fuck ups. All our kind has been and will ever be is fuck ups. Well look pal. I don't care if you're cursed. I don't care if your race is cursed. I don't care about any steps to get to anywhere. If you think that death is all that life is than you shouldn't have been granted the fucking marvel of live. If you think all life is shit just cause you ain't gettin' what you want or just want to fit in with some other miserable ass mother fuckers, then you're so far past sorely mistaken. You know what, forget about every thing I said so-far. Just listen to these words I'm going to say. If you think death is "cool", turn the fuck around and jump out your window. See how "cool" death is when you're looking it in the face. If you're still reading this then feel proud of yourself because your alive and that you want to live. Of course we're all going to die, that's a god forsaken FACT! Life is much more than what you think it is if you thought death is "cool". Living is the best thing for you trust me. I'd rather live in a fucking world manifested with zombies, vampires, and werewolves then die. And you should to. Because no matter what, if you're alive there is always hope for a better tomorrow. It hurts me to know that any body would think otherwise. I mean sure, you can think what you want. But sense when do people know what the fuck they want?
  24. As the title suggests, this is just a quick little prologue to a story I was trying to write. I could give background info on everything involved if you asked really really nicely but its not mandatory to understand the story. I have almost given up on it, and would like some opinions as to whether I should continue or not. That being said, here it is. -------------------------------- Cailan heard the faint sound of footsteps approach. He forced himself to sit with his back to the wall of the room. The room was more of a prison cell made for the purpose of hiding a prisoner. Breathing in, he could smell a faint lilac scent. Inwardly he groaned, he knew what this meant, they were back for more. As he opened his eyes a female voice sang out “Well… ready to help us yet, hmmm?” Cailan stared into the face of one of his captors. A girl slightly older than him stared back. She had black hair that reached half way down her back that framed her tan face. “What do you think, Airis?” he growled as he spit the last of his food at her. “Oh, come now! All this could stop…..” “Why would I help you? I love you, I gave you everything and you betrayed me… for my childhood friend!? Why would I join you?” “Well then, I guess we need to see how much more you can take.” She turned her back on her and yelled “Come on then, I guess we get to have some fun.” Almost instantly, Cailan could hear the doors opening, footsteps approached and a man’s face appeared, his childhood friend Hayten. Hayten stood even with Cailan, yet a head taller than the average man. Leaning down, he placed his muscular arm around Airis, kissing her briefly. “Well then…” he half whispered to her, as he fumbled with the keys to unlock the prison door. As the door opened, he quickly walked in grabbing Cailan and pulling him with him. Too weak to fight back, Cailan allowed himself to be dragged along to another room, where they restrained him in a chair. “Come on Cai, you should just join us already!” Airis’ soft voice chimed from across the room. Looking into her hard set eyes, Cai replied “Go to hell!” A swift slap caught him across the face. “That is no way to talk to a lady.” “Some lady you are, using me like that. Hayt if I were you, I’d be worried that she’d do the same.” Cai screamed as a sharp edge of a knife sliced into his chest. For what seemed like half a day, Cai was treated to a series of cuts, that Airis than took the time to heal. Finally Cai was dragged back to his cell. “If only you would join us… We won’t have the patience for this much longer.” Hayten exclaimed. In too much pain, and too tired to care, Cailan curled into a ball and fell asleep. When he awoke several hours later, he was staring into the hazel eyes of a young lady. As she noticed him open his eyes, she drew back. He noticed that she had long blonde hair that framed her pale face. He couldn’t be sure if it was just the light, but he couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was. As he tried to stand up, she quickly pushed him back down. “No no no! Don’t get up, you need to rest.” She seemed to be naturally speaking, but it came out in a sing-song voice. Again he noticed how pretty this made her seem. He took note of his surroundings and realized with a start, he was no longer in the prison, but in a plainly furnished room. “Now lay there for a minute well I go get you some food.” He stared at her and watched her leave, taking note of how the clothes she wears accented her body perfectly. His heart ached. He muttered “how can I find someone after all that has happened.” She returned carrying a tray and when he tried to sit up, she flicked her hand and he found himself on his back, unable to move. “That’s a nifty trick” he got out before she put a finger to her lips. Setting the tray down she picked up the spoon and began to slowly feed Cailan some broth. “Well, look at how weak you are. How did you manage to survive this far? I saved you, you know. You were being held in a hidden room in my fiancé’s house. I say fiancé…. It wasn’t my idea, it was forced I don’t even like him. My name is Alvina by the way, what did you say yours was?” Finding it difficult to talk while staring at his girl, Cai swallowed a couple times before saying “My name is Cailan, thank you for getting me out of Hayten’s house.” Alvina gasped. “How did you know his name? Wait! You are that friend he said he had right? The one he said would always help him? Seems he was wrong. Now back to sleep with you.” She whispered with a light swing of her hand, not that it mattered as Cailan was already asleep.
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