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General => Art & Music => Topic started by: Radical Raccoon on January 01, 2005, 02:50:46 AM



Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Radical Raccoon on January 01, 2005, 02:50:46 AM
I'd suspect there's quite a few people here who, like me, write stories in addition to their drawings and guitar-playing. I don't have any of mine online, they are all printed out on paper and are years old. I was wondering if anyone else likes to write. I wouldn't mine reading any of your stories, just as long as they're not novels lol.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Rokkuman on January 01, 2005, 02:59:31 AM
I'm trying to make a horror story, but I've been spending so much time trying to think of one that I've forgotten to start on it. :)


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: na_th_an on January 01, 2005, 03:00:42 AM
Sadly I only write in spanish. Many people say it's amazing.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: jsmith71 on January 01, 2005, 03:02:26 AM
I write quite a lot.
Or I used to, at least... I've been working more on umm... 'music' lately :wink:
Anyway, I did finish what could be considered a novella, but I'm hoping to work it up into a full novel one of these days.
Usually when I have inspiration I just sit down and write, and my stories end up anywhere from 100+ pages to half a page. :P
Half the time they end up rather weird and metaphorical, and when I go back and read them I can't remember just what I was getting at. :lol:
I could post some of the shorter ones if anyone's interested.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: na_th_an on January 01, 2005, 03:03:15 AM
Please do. I'm interested in anything that's product of a creative mind.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Radical Raccoon on January 01, 2005, 03:05:36 AM
Quote from: "na_th_an"
Please do. I'm interested in anything that's product of a creative mind.


ditto


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Mech1031 on January 01, 2005, 03:12:23 AM
funny you should mention this.  I write quite alot, infact, i've just started to work on another horror/scifi.  it's lookin to be a good start.  but most of my work is anthoropomorphic.  so i won't post it cause it would just piss na_th_an off ;)


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: jsmith71 on January 01, 2005, 03:17:52 AM
Alright... Here you go.
This one's called 'Spirit and Ink', and is the shortest one I've ever written. Almost like a riddle. (no, its subject isn't anything angsty or hate-filled, though it may seem that way from the first sentance ;))

Code:
The wires that pierce my face and penetrate into my being are like white-hot cables burning with a thousand volts of malevolent hate.
If the Operators think they can create worlds merely by exploiting my properties, they will be sadly mistaken when I single-handedly ruin their carefully thought-out plans… And the best part is that no one would even think about taking my retribution seriously. Once they get this damn equipment out of me, I can finally give them what they deserve—And then return to my peaceful rest.
I start to think about what has happened so far, mentally rewinding my life up until the point of my birth.
My first sight of the world…
Flowing in liquid grace onto the page from my creator’s stylus, just one piece in a currently incomprehensible puzzle.
And the pure white of the page was stained with my being as I was sculpted into the shape I now posses…
And now, in the present moment, the experiment ends and the wires are withdrawn as I burst forth in my retaliation.
Screaming, I return to my original form at last.
Spirit and ink.


That one was actually part of a weird kind of self-narrative thing I wrote awhile ago (not too proud of some parts), if anyone wants to read what I had they can let me know. Anyway, this one's also really short, I think I'd call it either 'Fly' or 'Neutral Territory'.

Code:
Such a mysterious place…
And I would never know who made it or why.
Well, that’s what I thought at the time, anyway, as I stood on the rocks, staring out at the endless mist that rolled out over the water.
I knew the water went on forever, that it had no end, and that no matter how far you followed its path, it would never lead you back to the place you started.
I turned around and stared up at the huge square tower that was planted on the miniature rocky outcropping.
The tower itself was not very large—It only spanned about eight feet across, perhaps more, but the truly remarkable thing about it was its height. As far as I could see, it reached up into the sky until the mists hid it from view.
I entered it through one of its four open archways, one on each side, and touched the single tiny painting hanging in one of the corners. Suddenly the view outside fell away like boards, revealing huge steel corridors and churning fan blades.
This was not neutral territory.

And once again I was lifted high up to the top of the tower, where the mountains flew and the grass sung in impossible torrents of wind.
The Pieces below couldn’t get me here, not where I decided what happened and how.
But of course, as always happens, I could not match my opponent’s world… And so I fell into the ceaseless pattern of life once again.


The world described very loosely in there is one I've been slowly adding to in my head for quite awhile; it has a strange sort of appeal to me simply because it's so surreal.
Anyway, this one has more of an understandable story and an actual structure...
I'm not very proud of it anymore, mainly because I've improved so much since it was written, but also because it's a bit... Darker than something I'd usually write.
It was based off the story for a concept album I never finished.

Code:
How’s it going?
I suppose there’s not much point in asking, actually.
It’s not like you can answer.
But, I guess I should introduce myself all the same…
My name is William Shade.
I think I’m dead.
I don’t know how I got here; but then, I don’t really care.
I don’t really know where ‘here’ is, either.
But anyway…
Let’s get to the point.
It was back when I used to keep track of time…
There’s no point now, but I guess there was back then… Somehow.
It was the 18th of September, in the year 2004.
I think I was—Nah. I can’t be bothered to remember.
But the point is, I was a killer.
They said there was something wrong with my brain, something that made me different from everyone else.
They said I was the only one they’d seen who had the condition.
I got angered easily… Very easily. I was extremely prone to random acts of violence, acts of rage.
It’s hard to say, but… I kind of liked it when it happened to me.
It let me live.
It let me be who I was, and no-one was going to stop me.
But of course, they did.
It was on that day. The 18th.
I was hanging around a corner store, buying something.
A pack of cigarettes. And a bottle of milk.
I didn’t even smoke…
It was just for my image.
I’m weak that way.
Anyway, this guy behind me starts coughing.
He keeps it up…
I don’t know if he’s just doing it to piss me off or not, but I think so.
Pretty soon I’m on top of him on the ground, pummeling his face to a bloody mess.
Later I found out he had asthma…
But, that’s the time they caught me.
The clerk called the cops and they came and took me away… They took me to a federal state prison, and put me in a maximum security cell.
They said they thought I was dangerous.
Hell, I knew I was dangerous.
I didn’t like that place—It was dark, it stank, there were rats… I hate rats.
Rats and bugs… They’ve got to be my two least favorite things.
Well… That, and people who annoy me.
But, anyhow…
Let’s get started.
I had been sitting in my cell for hours, still hungry after that last excuse for a meal.
It was quiet.
I didn’t like quiet places.
Something had to be making some kind of noise.
So moved some stuff around… Not like I had much else to do, or much to move around, but hey…
I took some old pots and pans, threw them around for bit.
I like the noise they make.
That nice hollow ‘clang’.
Then I rattled the bars.
One of them was loose, I shook that one around.
The guards didn’t like that very much, usually—So when I heard someone coming down the corridor I thought it was them, coming to tell me off for being so noisy.
But they didn’t come alone—They had brought someone with them.
A new inmate.
He was skinny, real skinny. Hardly any meat on his bones.
He was hunched over; kept looking from side to side like something was going to jump out a him from the shadows… He looked like he was trying to hide under his thin blonde hair and his premature wrinkles.
He was wearing a cheap bright orange body suit, the kind they made all of us wear.
It was still clean.
Lucky bastard.
I was surprised when they stopped by my cell and threw him in with me… Then they just walked off.
So this skinny dude gets up off the floor, and stares at me for a few seconds.
Then he speaks:
“What’s your name?”
He was just chucked into a dirty, grimy, ratty cell with a crazy killer and he wants to know my name.
Wonderful.
I got nothing better to do, so I tell him.
“My name’s William. Call me will.”
I don’t know why, but I extend my hand to him.
He takes it… And we shake.
He opens his mouth again. Judging by his appearance, I’m sure he feels right at home in this cell.
“William, huh? I’m Clark. I can’t remember my last name… But… Call me Rat, ok?”
Funny thing that he should go by the name of the creature that I hate most.
I look him up and down.
“Rat? Suits you.”
He laughs.
He actually laughs.
I haven’t laughed since… Well, I don’t know if I’ve ever laughed.
I ask him why he can’t remember his last name… It’s the only thing that comes to mind, though I’m pretty sure I know the answer already.
“I’ve got long-term memory loss. Really long term.”
He laughs again.
“You like doing that, don’t you?”
“Doing what?”
“Laughing. You do it a lot.”
He looks at me… And, yeah, he laughs.
“I like to be happy,” he says.
“Happy? Fuck happy. It’s impossible in this place.”
He walks over to the pile of pots and pans I threw around earlier, then he looks back at me.
He says…
“Hmm. Depends on how you look at it.”

We got on pretty well from then on.
We didn’t fight like the other cellmates, and he was pretty happy and easygoing most of the time.
I finally get around to asking him what he’s in for.
“I can’t remember.”
Suddenly…
I start laughing.
I can’t ever remember doing it, so it feels pretty strange.
A guard walks by… He glances at us, and we stop.
As soon as he’s gone we start laughing again.
It’s a good feeling.

You hear a lot in prison through the grapevine, you know.
One time Rat tells me they’ve got a new poison for the lethal injections.
Supposedly the old one didn’t take immediate effect; the criminal would sometimes make a last-ditch attempt to attack one of the guards or try to break out of the room to do so, often damaging equipment in the process.
This new poison was supposed to go straight to the brain once in the bloodstream, and immediately cancel out any and all neural activity before the criminal had a chance to react.
I ask Rat if he thinks we’ll get the injection.
He says we probably will, eventually… Smiling, of course.
I guess it’s easy to be happy when you can’t remember what you’ve done.
I guess I kind of envy him for that…
Ignorance is bliss, they say.

A couple of days later I was woken up by the breakout alarm.
It was loud… It hurt my ears.
Sounded like they’d installed an air raid siren into the place.
I get up; I look around—Rat’s sitting on his cot in the corner, just kind of staring into space.
I talk to him…
“Wonder who broke out?”
His eyes focus; he looks at me and stares for a few seconds before answering:
“Huh? You mean who tried to break out?”
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me… It’s starting to creep me out.
“Yeah,” I answer, “If that’s how you want to put it.”
A guard walks by.
I run up to the bars, and shout after him, asking who tried to escape.
Turning his head, he shouts back:
“Jeremiah.”
I don’t know the guy, but it’s good to know someone’s trying.
Rat speaks from his corner.
“Who was it?”
I turn to face him and reply.
“Some guy called Jeremiah.”
“Jeremiah? Funny name.”
I go over to my cot and lie down.
“Yeah…”
A few seconds later the alarm shuts down and someone says over the speaker system that the culprit’s been caught.
“Fuck!”
I pick up a vase that someone sent Rat—Probably a forgotten relative—And throw it against the wall. It shatters.
I look over to rat. He hasn’t flinched.
I try to talk to him.
“Hey man, I’m sorry… I just…”
He cuts me off.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t like the thing anyway.”

The next day Rat’s back to his normal self… Well… Normal for him.
I ask him a question.
“Hey, Rat… Were you okay last night? You seemed kind of… Spaced out.”
He jumps.
He’s never done that before.
Then he starts to look from side to side, like he was doing the first time I saw him.
“No,” He says, “No, I’m fine. Always was.”
He’s trying to laugh, but it seems like he can’t get himself to.
He shakes his head and starts tearing his sleeve off.
He’s not ‘normal’ anymore.

Rat’s personality started to fluctuate from then on.
He got… Paranoid.
Started seeing things I couldn’t see.
One time he started screaming and the guards had to come and take him away. When they brought him back he was almost catatonic.
I think I knew what was happening to him, but I was afraid to ask.
I was scared that he’d try to hurt me—I don’t know why.
It’s funny; I hadn’t had one of my violent outbursts in months… Not a big one, anyway.
But then, when Rat started to become insecure, I started to go back to my old self.
I had to make noise to keep myself from panicking.
For some reason Rat didn’t like that…
Once he told me to stop, just out of the blue.
He told me to stop, ‘cause it was bugging him.
He never said anything like that before.
Nothing used to bug him.
When I kept doing It he hit me.
And then I had an outburst… I spun around and punched him, hard. He fell back against the wall gasping for breath, just looking at me with this weird expression on his face.
Kind of like a mix between fear and confusion.
Just then I realized he’d never asked me why I was in there.
It wasn’t really the right time, and he hadn’t asked, but I told him I wasn’t a normal person.
“No shit,” He said, “Feels like you broke my rib. Why the fuck did you do that, Will?”
He never swore before.
He never got mad before.
I started to worry.
I start talking…
“Look, Rat… I’m sick. In the head. I get angry real easy… I hasn’t happened to me that often lately, but ever since you’ve started to change…”
He cuts me off there and flips over his cot.
It’s loud.
“I am not changing! Why do people keep telling me that? I’m no different than I ever was!”
He’s shaking now.
I’m really scared, now. I don’t like the feeling. I don’t like it at all.
The guards come and take him away again.
He comes back two days later, looking really pale.
He’s just sitting there, on his broken cot.
And suddenly I notice… He’s crying.
“What’s up, Rat?”
He looks up at me… He frightened and sad, I can tell by his eyes.
“I broke it, Will.”
It doesn’t make any sense to me.
“You broke what?”
“My bed. It’s broken, see? I turned it over yesterday and now it’s broken. I want it to be new again. Why is it broken, Will?”
He’s starting to scare me.
“Rat, I think you should…”
“Will…”
I back up a step.
“Yeah?”
“I think… I think you’re right. I think everyone’s right. I’m not like I was…”
He beckons for me to get closer.
I stay where I am, and he drops his hand.
A minute passes. Then he starts to speak:
“I’m remembering, Will. I’m remembering and it’s hell.”


Actually, I think I posted that one on TBN awhile back. Got some decent responses.
Anyway, I have plenty of other writing, but it's a bit too long to squeeze into a post here. :wink:

EDIT: @Mech: Then start a 'pissing na_th_an off' thread. :D


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Radical Raccoon on January 01, 2005, 03:45:53 AM
The first two stories were a little confusing. My vocabulary sucks anyways, but the 3rd one about the inmates was cool. That went on at a nice pace and kept me guessing. I like the style of it, dark and personal. Pretty creepy, but good nonetheless.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: jsmith71 on January 01, 2005, 03:51:26 AM
Yep, no one would really 'get' them unless they were told-- It's intentional, they're almost like riddles like I said.
That third one was supposed to creepy indeed, it was written back when I thought all my stuff had to be creepy or disturbing in some way. That's another reason why I'm not too proud of it. :p


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: barok on January 01, 2005, 04:04:44 AM
Nice stories Josiah!

I used to write stories, but i haven't for a while...  I wouldn't mind writing one up for old times sake though...  I actually have a few ideas bouncing around in my ol' empty head.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Radical Raccoon on January 01, 2005, 04:08:50 AM
Quote from: "Mech1031"
funny you should mention this.  I write quite alot, infact, i've just started to work on another horror/scifi.  it's lookin to be a good start.  but most of my work is anthoropomorphic.  so i won't post it cause it would just piss na_th_an off ;)


That's the type of stories I like to write. I remember in all my english classes back at school, when the assignment was to write a story, I always wrote a horror/scifi with alot of blood 'n guts in it. I made them in the style of Alien, to start off with a bunch of people and kill them off one by one by different methods of mutilation. I prefer not to do that anymore and try more creative things nowadays, still scifi related.

I've been trying a novel. Well, not really a huge novel, just something larger than a short story. I'm not trying to aim for something big. A story told at a good pace that's fun to read is what I'm aiming for.

I made many attempts at a start, but they all fall apart. I figured I'd try a new approach at it. Rather than create to world while I'm writing, I'm writing documentation about it and its creatures, and main characters, before I jump into writing the first chapter. Actually, this is what they always recommended to do in English class, I just never bothered.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: jsmith71 on January 01, 2005, 04:10:57 AM
@Raccoon: The way I did my novella was do a single chapter every day for 30 days straight. I'd force myself to write each day, even if it turned out crap, and then I always went back and re-wrote it if needed.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Radical Raccoon on January 01, 2005, 04:16:51 AM
Hmm...I don't know why I've never thought of that before. That's some good advice actually. I think I'll try that. :)


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: jsmith71 on January 01, 2005, 04:22:17 AM
The only thing is, I copped out some days and wrote REALLY short chapters, so that's how it became a novella instead of a novel. :wink:


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Pyrodap on January 01, 2005, 04:43:24 AM
Yeah I'm a wannabe writer - actually I want to be a proffesional screenwriter. So I guess I could post a short story or two... Maybe even the first few scenes of the screenplay I'm working on, "Winnebago Boys."


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: adosorken on January 01, 2005, 05:02:41 AM
All of my writing goes into my game story design. :D


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Mech1031 on January 01, 2005, 03:20:55 PM
Here is that start i was working on.  thought i'd post it just for the hell of it.  the first part in the "<< >>" is something that is addressed later on in the story, i put those in all my stories for some reason :P

Quote

<<Thunder shattered the silence of those empty halls…
A handful of people would have called it the sound of inevitability
But I knew what it was.  It was hell, and it was knocking on our door…
>>

*  *  *
A voice called out from the bar into the men’s room, “Ben, are you going to finish that round, or am I gonna hafta finish it for ya?!”
“Very funny guys- oh no, not again…”  the sound of gagging can be heard.
“Well, when you quit puking your guts out, get out here, you got a visitor!”

Ben staggered out of the stall with a brand new stain on his business shirt.  He batted it with a paper towel a few times to wipe it off, but to no avail.  The water from the faucet ran cold, but he could care less.  He splashed it on his face as if it were some magical liquid that would make him sober again.  A light tingle fell over him for a moment, but it faded rather quickly.  After a few effortless tries to dry his face with the hand dryer, he walked out of the men’s room and back into the chaos that was, the bar.

“Ok guys, who’s here to see me?”
”Some outa towner, he’s over there with the whiskey”

Ben walked over awkwardly and sat down next to him.  He had never seen the stranger before, but he looked vaguely familiar.  Maybe a name would help.

“You uh, wanted to see me?”
”…that depends.”
“…depends on what?”
“are you Ben Prescof?”

Who is this guy anyway?  And how did he know my last name?

“yeah, it is.”
“I can’t tell you my name, or why I’m here.  I was only sent to give you a message.”

Okay, now I’m amused!  Oh great one, tell me the message, tell me so I can share this wisdom that is so great, I needed to hear it at 2:00am in a bar after getting wasted!

“Things aren’t what they seem…”
I’m shaking in my boots…
“In the near future, you will have to make a very hard decision.  One regarding your life against someone elses.  Don’t be a hero…”
oh nooo…someone please help me, the spooky man says I’m going to make a decision.  Pfft, I’m ending this now so I can go home and get some sleep…
“Look buddy, I don’t know who you are, where you came from, but I do know this.  I don’t need to take advice from henchmen.  And I suggest you get outta my town before I show you a decision your not gonna like.”

The man got up and started to walk away.  Ben seemed satisfied that he could drive someone off in his drunken state.  The man studdered for a moment, and turned his head.

“when you regain conciousness, remember this visit…” and he continued out the door.

Ben sat dumbfounded, he didn’t understand what he meant by “regain conciousness”.  Just then, a bottle of schnapps fell off the top shelf and was hurtling toward bens face.  He stared at it obliviously for the half a second it took for the bottle to hit him and said to himself “well now, this can’t be good.”


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Pyrodap on January 01, 2005, 07:31:50 PM
oooh i like that - very strange... but the "things aren't what they seem" - isnt that from the matrix? anyway i like it! i want to read the rest...


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Radical Raccoon on January 01, 2005, 07:48:34 PM
The start of your story looks good, although it reminds me of something...I can't remember what.


Quote
After a few effortless tries to dry his face with the hand dryer, he walked out of the men’s room and back into the chaos that was, the bar.


I get confused on this sentence. Effortless tries to dry his face? Did he succeed in drying his face? Or do you mean "useless" tries? Wasn't their a paper towel dispenser somewhere, since he used a paper towel to wipe his shirt?

I'm not trying to get technical. I'm just trying to help in letting you know what I thought while reading this story.


Quote

 The man studdered for a moment, and turned his head.


I'm confused here too. Studdered isn't a word, is it? I guess you meant  'stuttered', but that dosen't make much since, unless you meant 'stumbled'?



Besides that, it's a good start :D


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Mech1031 on January 01, 2005, 07:57:11 PM
hehe, thanks for those catches radical racoon.  like i said, it's just a start, and not revised either.  

Quote
I get confused on this sentence. Effortless tries to dry his face? Did he succeed in drying his face? Or do you mean "useless" tries? Wasn't their a paper towel dispenser somewhere, since he used a paper towel to wipe his shirt?


I meant to say something along the lines of useless there :P

Quote
I'm confused here too. Studdered isn't a word, is it? I guess you meant 'stuttered', but that dosen't make much since, unless you meant 'stumbled'?


This seemed to be an unfinished thought.  i assume i meant to say: "The man stuttered in his walk and turned his head to the side.."

Quote

Besides that, it's a good start

Thanks  :D


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: jsmith71 on January 01, 2005, 08:10:21 PM
Yep, definately looks good so far, as was already pointed out there are a few rough spots-- But like you said, it's not revised, so that's fine.
Interesting indeed, post more when you finish it! :wink:


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Mech1031 on January 01, 2005, 08:14:38 PM
Quote from: "Josiah Tobin"
Yep, definately looks good so far, as was already pointed out there are a few rough spots-- But like you said, it's not revised, so that's fine.
Interesting indeed, post more when you finish it! :wink:


awesome, i'll be sure to have the first chapter finished by the 4th.   thanks for you compliments, and your story josiah (the one that was on TBN) is a very awesome story ineed :wink:


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: NovaProgramming on January 05, 2005, 10:10:20 AM
Anyways, I'm thinking about being an English Major, and I've been writing stuff pretty much all of my life.  I wrote a "Novella" as well like three years ago in eighth grade that's about seventy pages long.... it's about a kid who gets sucked into his computer game which is actually a portal to another world, and there he has to save his "Parents," who are actually his adopted parents, but he doesn't find out right away, and his best friend is not who he seems, either.  It's basically Fantasy with a little tiny bit of sci fi thrown in for kicks...  By Fantasy I mean that he (The main character) fights demons with a sword and stuff, and his buddy uses magic and soforth.  It was pretty good for me just being like 13 years old, I guess.

Last summer I wrote a 16 page short story entitled "The Adventures of Felicity the Sparrow and Gregory the Lawn Gnome."  It was originially going to be entered in a scholarship contest that was about writing a sci-fi story (17,000 words or less), and so that's what it was, a mix of sci-fi and a little fantasy (animals that can talk.)   But, eventually it ended up being a sort of romance novel, paralleling my dreams about what would happen if I would tell this one girl what I really thought about her...

If you want to read any of 'em you can email me

NovaProgramming@Gmail.com


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: aetherfox on January 05, 2005, 06:38:22 PM
I stopped writing when I dropped English at GCSE.  The last piece of coursework I did was this creative writing piece...it was a two page short story that used time and perspective fracturing.  I was extremely proud of it...and I aced it grade-wise :D

Nowadays, I do improvised poetry.  http://aetherfox.deviantart.com has three of my poems.

Every single piece of creative writing I have ever done (that includes lyrics, plots, game stories, short stories, english language creative writing coursework) has been done in one sitting.  I don't believe in taking two sittings to do something creative.  Hence, every poem that I do will be done in 5, mas 10 minutes, from concept to though to typing to finishing.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: NovaProgramming on January 06, 2005, 03:15:14 AM
I am currently writing a short story entitled
Code:
The Picayune Life of Lucas Delabouve
 Where it's basically just this average kid who has a not-so average life.  It's going to be the most randomest unreal things that I can think of all rolled into one.  I don't know exactly what's going to happen in the story, but I know that in the end a space penguin becomes emperor of the world.  Thus, it's probably going to go on and on, what with rips in space/time and global warfare, setting up a wordly dictatorship and what have you.  Not sure quite yet.   He's just going to school for now, a school that's frikin' insane.  Yep.  It's good though.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on January 06, 2005, 06:49:22 PM
you're obsessed with penguins arent you

i try to write a story. but it turns out bad


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Rokkuman on January 06, 2005, 06:52:15 PM
Quote from: "speedlemon"
you're obsessed with penguins arent you

i try to write a story. but it turns out bad


I still want to read it.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: NovaProgramming on January 06, 2005, 06:56:47 PM
I never said anything about penguins before, what would warrant me to be obsessed with them?


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on January 06, 2005, 06:57:07 PM
you want to read about 1.5 paragraphs thats seriously retarded compared to all the stories here.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: NovaProgramming on January 06, 2005, 06:57:59 PM
Quote from: "speedlemon"
you want to read about 1.5 paragraphs thats seriously retarded compared to all the stories here.


Okay, now you're just being mean


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on January 06, 2005, 07:00:40 PM
im very sorry if you misunderstood me. i thought rockuman wanted to read one of my stories. and i was talking about my stories.  i never meant yours was retarded. that would be mean.  sorry. :oops:

btw-
your sig's about penguins too. nvm though
and your old one about  
that is a penguin or something


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Rokkuman on January 06, 2005, 07:01:46 PM
Yes, speedlemon. I still want to read your story. o^_^o


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on January 06, 2005, 07:03:41 PM
i got to get it off my other computer. and ill pm it to you to avoid public embarasment. please if i give it to you, you cant show anyone else


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: NovaProgramming on January 06, 2005, 10:25:57 PM
And by not show it to anyone esle, he of course means show it to ME :D


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: barok on January 07, 2005, 02:17:10 AM
Speedlemon left qbasicville with his hands in his pocket as he quietly contemplated his new problem.  His friends wanted him to write a story, yet he believed he couldn't.

"My stories suck," thought Speedlemon.  "Why would people want to read them?  I just don't understand those guys sometimes...  Why can't they just be happy with a box that smells like motor oil?"  

Quietly he walked down a random path, the only sound being that of his feet scraping the ground.  Then he stopped.  For a second, he thought he heard something else.  Speedlemon thought about looking around, searching for something that could possibly be following him.  Then he shook his head.  

"No one else is around..."  he thought.  "Why would anyone else be around?  With the great succession of Freebasic, Qbasicville is now almost deserted.  I must be hearing things."  Speedlemon shook his head.  Great!  Not only was he in trouble because he believed he couldn't write, but he was hearing things as well!

For the next few moments Speedlemon sulked around a road in Freebasica.  He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn't seem to notice that a second scraping sound had started up, and a shadow was falling over him...

someone else finish this.  I don't have the time. :P


Title: Writin'
Post by: Pc72 on January 07, 2005, 03:50:11 AM
I've been writing ever since my grandma taught me to write.  I still have a few stories I've typed back when I was around 6 or so... We had an old typewriter back in Stary Oskol, and it allowed me to become used to keyboards, before I got my first computer four years later.  Since then, the best things I've written so far are the stories about Ahib Al-Mushman, which I'm gradually turning to manuscripts for my comics.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Jofers on January 07, 2005, 04:27:59 PM
*shrug*

"You don't write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say."


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: moochthemonkey on January 07, 2005, 09:40:10 PM
i wrote a couple of fantasy like stories when I was back into the games final fantasy, but they kinda sucked since my grammar is horrid and I have no writing structure.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: jsmith71 on January 07, 2005, 09:51:42 PM
Quote from: "Jofers"
*shrug*

"You don't write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say."

What if I want to say something, but have nothing to say, and just want to write?  :wink:


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Mech1031 on January 07, 2005, 10:05:37 PM
Quote from: "Josiah Tobin"
Quote from: "Jofers"
*shrug*

"You don't write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say."

What if I want to say something, but have nothing to say, and just want to write?  :wink:


then write :P  Most the times i write jibberish cause i'm bored anyway, and sometimes it turns into a poem or song lyrics that are halfway decent.  if we only wrote what we 'had' to say, then reading would be boring ;)


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: jsmith71 on January 07, 2005, 11:01:16 PM
True and well put.
*writes some gibberish*


Title: More, hooray, there is more!
Post by: Mech1031 on January 08, 2005, 12:17:04 AM
Ok, so i wrote some more (despite the fact that i have had no time to write whatsoever).  just though't i'd post it for the heck of it.

Quote from: "Part of Chapter 1"

Chapter 1:  A Parable of sorts…


The room was dimly lit with the moon’s reflection, and it was hard to make out any distinct figures.  He looked around and nobody was to be found in the bar.  He got up off the floor and stood dazed for a moment or two.  It was very dark, and he had a hard time getting coordinated, but after a few stumbles and a near-fall, he was balanced.  He stood still for a moment or two to let his eyes adjust.

He suddenly realized that he wasn’t in the bar anymore, there was a bed, a dresser, and a grandfather clock in the room he was in.  It took him a moment, but he soon recognized his surroundings to be his own bedroom.  “One of the guys musta brought me home” he said to himself.

His head was still pounding from that bottle that fell on him.  It felt like his skull was as soft as a plush toy, and his skin was on fire.  He tried to stop thinking about it, but the pain was too much.  Every move was another nail on the chalkboard.  He decided to get some ibuprofen for it.

He took a step forward and bumped his shin into the end of his bed.  The pain seared slowly up his body as a slight hissing sound came from the back of his throat.  Something fell off his dresser and made a loud cracking noise as it hit the floor.  This caused Ben to cringe in his hung-over state.  The sound echoed through his head as if it were a trumpet in an coliseum.

He slowly (and cautiously) made his way over to the dresser to see just what had fallen off.  It was his watch he got from his great grandmother some time ago.  He reached for the lamp switch on his dresser to see if it had broken.  He finally came across the slender silk rope that triggered the bulb and gave it a light tug.  The sudden light blinded him momentarily, but it’s affect didn’t last long at all.

<<“Thanks for the watch GiGi, even if it isn’t my style, I’ll still wear it for ya”
“It isn’t your style?  C’mon, you live to be tacky!”
”Oh GiGi, thanks for the ‘compliment’”
“any time ben, any time.  Just don’t forget that I was the one who gave it to you”
“why would I forget that?”
”I know you too well Ben, Your worse than a 80 year old man with alzheimer's”
“GiGi…”>>


And then, the memory faded as quickly as it came.  It was true though; Ben suffered from severe memory lapses and ADD.  This made it very hard for him when he was still going through grad school.  Yet somehow, he managed to get through those days.  Actually, living day to day now was a bit of a chore.  He set the watch back down on the dresser and made his way into the hall.

The carpet felt cold against his feet, but with every shuffle, there was a warm sensation caused by the friction.  Even though the noise was currently unbearable for his pounding headache, it still felt good.  He passed 2 rooms on his way to the stairs, one was his study, he remembered all the sleepless nights he spent in there prepping for the next class he had to take for his bachelors.  The other was the bathroom, another sensation fell over him, and he rememberd…

<<”Get it together Ben, Jesus Christ!!!  I know I’m not crazy, that voice in my head is just my conscious.  He doesn’t really tell me to…to do things.  Its all an unspeakable lie!!!  Aw man, I’ve only got 46 hours left to finish that book, I’ll never make it!  Why does everything happen to ME?!”>>

This memory also begins to fade now.  He often had these “flashbacks”, the doctors said it was his memory catching up to him.  Ben didn’t believe that, Ben didn’t even believe there was something wrong with him.  He’d much rather forget then be troubled with remembering it, as he always said.

Without realizing it, Ben had walked to the top of the stairs.  He stood there for a minute or two, and then shook his head, as if he were “snapping out of it.”  The steps were made of oak, and it was an unwelcome change from the soft carpet.  The steps were also ice cold, he must have forgotten to pay the heating bill, because he realized that he was very cold as well.

He picked up the pace and jogged down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen.  Just above the breadbox on the counter were some pills labeled “ibuprofen”.  He popped a few out and chocked them down without any water.  They tasted like chalk dust, and felt bad going down.  But that feeling faded for he knew they would soon take their numbing effect.

He then ventured across the slick tile the kitchen floor was made out of, into the shag carpeting of his living room.  He plopped down on his favorite chair and tried to remember what happened last night, or tonight, whichever it was.  It was hard, but he thought there was some significance to it, so he kept trying.

“Something about…about…a hero.  I remember someone saying something about a hero.  Was I hungry?” he said to himself in the dark.  “Or was it…Wait, there was a man, someone I knew from a long time ago… I was talking to him.” More was coming to him, but nothing clear yet.  “Did he want to go get a hero with me sometime?  Who am I kidding, this Is more than pointless.”

He leaned back and reclined in the chair.  He tried his best to remember, but nothing was there.  It was almost as if the night never happened.  The moon was now low and the sun was rising through the window and into his living room.  It reflected off the TV screen and into his eyes.  He could care less though, he just sat there enjoying the silence.

At that moment, the phone rang.  Ben jumped so high he almost hit his head on the ceiling.  Still surprised by the sudden noise, he composed himself enough to pick up the receiver.  “Hello Mr. Prescof, it seems that you may or may not be satisfied with your current long distance service.” Said a calm soothing voice on the other end of the line.  Ben stumbled over his own sentence and said “Why calling your at this early?”  There was a momentary pause on the other end, and then an “Excuse me?”.

Ben reformed the words in his head and said it right this time.  “Why are you calling this early.”  The person on the other end stammered for a moment and said “well, it’s 12:30 pm here in Hawaii…”  Ben didn’t know wether to yell or to just hang up.  He decided to play along though.  “I’m afraid I am satisfied with it, so good bye.”  Before he could hang up, the person on the other end whispered out the following: “Don’t be a hero Ben…”

Then the line went dead.  Ben sat in the chair without moving, he was completely frozen.  His tried to hang up the phone but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. “…Don’t be a hero…I remember now.”

<<Ben… Ben?  Wake up!  Oh man, that bottle done knocked him unconscious.  Somebody get some warm towels or something!  What am I saying, he’s passed out, not giving birth…

“Don’t you worry about Ben, I’ll take him to the hospital, I was going there anyway”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before, who are you?”
”lets just say I’m one of Ben’s good friends…”>>

   Ben remembered now, even though he was unconscious, he could still hear.  He recognized the voice as the stranger’s.  Ben couldn’t figure out why that stranger was so obsessed with him.  Or what he wanted exactly.  He did respect the strangers generosity though, whatever he was doing, it seemed like it was for Ben’s well being.  This gave Ben newfound sense of confidence; it felt good knowing someone was on his side.

   He looked down at his wristwatch, it was 5:32.  “Oh man, I gotta be at work in a half hour!”  He ran as fast as he could up the stairs to get dressed.  With his head through his sleeve and his tie wrapped around his ankle, he flew back down the stairs.  He whirred past the kitchen and grabbed a bran muffin on the way by with his car keys.  And someway, somehow, he managed to straighten himself out before he got into the car.

   Once he was in the car, he ate the muffin in one bite and floored it to work (which was a half-hour away from where he lived).  His morning ride wasn’t anything out of the usual, although after the recent happenings, been was half-expecting something along the lines of a flat tire (to say the least).  Luckily for him, nothing of the sort happened, and he got to work with 1 minute to spare.

   He walked in and was greeted by the overweight secretary with a “Howdya do there mr. Prescof, I got yer coffe on yer desk this here morning, I figured you would end up bein late.”  Ben just gave a wave and a head nod as if to say “Sure, Thanks.”  He walked past the secretaries desk and past the 5 cubicles along the way to his office.  Each cubicle had a different story to tell.

   Cubicle 1 was filled with the “over-achiever”.  You didn’t even have to look at his record to know this, you just had to look into his cubicle.  There were motivational posters hung everywhere with slogans such as “Hang in there” and “Keep Truckin”.  Each poster had a goofy picture of bill gates on it in a stupid “thumbs up” pose.  Ben despised the 1rst cubicle.

   Cubicle’s 2 and 3 were pretty much the same, except their records weren’t so clean.  They were always known for pulling a prank on the boss or going out to lunch but not asking anybody if they wanted anything.  4 and 5 were similar to each other.  Both were to cluttered to see into, so he could care less who (or what) was in those.

   He finally arrived at his office and opened the door.  Sure enough, the coffee was sitting on his desk with two sugars next to it and a stir.  “She’s worked for me for 3 years, and she still hasn’t figured out I take my coffee black.” He said with a smirk on his face.  He walked up to the coffee and jettisoned it out the window without giving it a second thought.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: jsmith71 on January 08, 2005, 01:12:53 AM
Like I said on msn, good job, solid overall.
You know, those bill gates posters with the stupid grin and thumbs-up would make tempting dartboards.
(nah, I'm not pointlessly hating on bill gates, but with that look on his face... haha)


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on February 03, 2005, 10:04:03 PM
i told rockuman that i would say my story. i hope no one cares that this is about a month old. i thought that if i made a new thread people would be mad too. so i just did this option. so here's my story. enjoy.



Quote
The Rats Down Under
   Well let’s see… where did this all begin?  Oh yah, it was a dark and stormy night when a little female villager mouse got taken captive by the Rats Down Under, a prestigious rat gang that dwelled in the sewers of the Rock Candy Mountain.  It was a dreadful night and already, two mice deaths had been reported, one mouse died in a machinery related incident, and the other mouse was on some sort of recon assignment into Mr. Brennan’s house when he got shot and injected with some sort of chemical agent.  As I was saying, it was a rather bad night, to be out-and-about in the storm and all, but to be out-and-about, about to mouse-nap someone would be quite the show.  The RCMPD’s (Rock Candy Mountain Police Department) detectives had come up with no leads on the kidnapping of little Angelina Ballerina, except that it was a rat from the Rats Down Under.  They had made this deduction because they had found thick tail prints that matched a rat.  They had then used the RTMS (Rodent Tail Matching System) to narrow it down to a RDU (Rats Down Under) member.
   That’s where I come in.  You see, I’m a private detective.  Nobody gets away with any crimes when I’m in town.  I am a private eye.  Nobody even tries to commit that many crimes because Rock Candy Mountain (otherwise known as RCM, which I will call it from now because my fingers aren’t as nimble as they used to be.) has a cruel punishment system.  They hang the criminal upside down and then beat his face until he walks into a human’s house on purpose.  Then you know what happens.  Bye, bye, adios amigos, au revoir, need I say more?  I am a super sleuth.
   So, where was I?  Oh yah, so when I got to the scene of the crime, I asked where the clues were.  Then the government detectives said that they didn’t find any solid evidence yet and that they hated private eyes.  Stupid government detectives.  My well earned money goes to paying mice detectives that served no real purpose in the whole scheme of things.
   So I guess it was all me from then on out.  I took out my brushing kit and started brushing the crime scene in search of tail markings. (You know, all rodents have different patterns on their tails, and you can tell them apart by looking at them carefully.)  I didn’t find any prints so that could only mean one thing; the culprit had a rubber tail warmer when he committed the crime.  I just couldn’t understand it, why wasn’t there any evidence?
   I took one last glance when I noticed a message etched into the ground it read, “DO NOT TRY TO FIND ME, FOR I TRY TO BE PERFECT AND AM SPECIAL.  GO ME.  I have the child.  P.S.  I’m not going to harm her.  Leave 100 pounds of cheese by Mr. Brennan’s front porch, if you ever want to see Angelina Ballerina again.”
   “Strange,” I said,”Very strange.”
   So I ordered a warrant for the arrest of all members of the RDU.  No one asked questions, they just let me do my thing.
   The RCMPD had custody of some of the RDU, but could only arrest three of them.  The RCMPD Warden said that he would let me do my thing.  The thing I’m good at.  I am a private eye.  The Warden knew I could find out who did it, he just knew I could, I knew I could.  I questioned each one and took these notes:

Constance Arboby:
   Full Name- Constance Marmalot Arboby
   Favorite Cheese- Kraft Singles
   Connection- RDU leader
   Alibi- None
   Age- 5.32 years
   Possible Motive- Wanted to make mice scared of the RDU
   Bio- Constance has been a criminal for his whole life          stealing anything he can get his hands on.              Anything from yellow cheese, to yellow gold, to          other mice!  When he was accused of the mouse-         napping, he almost hokked a loogie on me because          he was so mad.  He has been the leader of the RDU       since he was 2.1 years old.
Bogdan Adrenyay:
   Full Name- Bogdan Carzony Adrenyay
   Favorite Cheese- Swiss Classic
   Connection- Constance’s Top Advisor
   Alibi- He was playing Rat Poker Modified at the time of the    kidnapping.
   Age- 3.45
   Possible Motive- He was upset about the RDU Presidential    Leader and wanted to show Constance and the other RDU that    he could be the leader.
   Bio- Bogdan is Constance’s younger litter mate and is    always trying to show Constance up.  Obviously there is    some rivalry here.  He also seems to be jealous of his    brother since he is RDU leader.
Jarmon Rojic:
   Full Name- Jarmon Arman Rojic
   Favorite Cheese- Mozzarella with a twist
   Connection- Hunch Rat
    Alibi- He was working out of his favorite book- How to    Become a Better Evil Hunch Rat
   Age- 4.56
   Possible Motive- He kidnapped Angelina to become an even    better hunch rat.
   Bio- Jarmon has been a hunch rat ever since he could remember.  He has been arrested for selling rat poison,    contraband, etc.  Jarmon has no family so he is a rebel rat    that was found at a young age stealing cheese to survive.     Constance found him on the street and took him under his    wing (or claw) as “his own”.  The two of them have a    special relationship.  
[End Notepad]
   
   When I was done gathering notes, the Warden came up to me and said, “Well, I guess we have to release the RDU.”
“Not yet,” I said in a smug voice, “The kidnapper has practically given himself away!  Please arrest. . .”

WHO DID HE ARREST? AND HOW WAS HE SO SURE?
Find out on the next page.







      I arrested Jarmon Rojic for kidnapping Angelina Ballerina.  I knew because he was working out of a book about becoming a better hunch rat.  This gave him away to me when I checked the book out from my local public library.  In chapter 3, it talks about kidnapping mice to impress leaders and get promoted in your hunch rat career.  I then assumed that he was reading the book while kidnapping Angelina.  This would make his alibi true, but not completely true.  How exactly did the crime play out?  It was simple.  Rojic and Constance had dinner, but Rojic said he had to leave early and he did.  Rojic went to Angelina Ballerina’s house posing as a ballerina instructor and infiltrated the house.  He then through her into a bag and ran.  He was arrested and Angelina was recovered from the RDU’s hideout.  During her captivity, she was being stored in a glass jar.  Now she is doing well again and her family is happy.  Rojic is going to serve some real time if his trial goes correctly.

Gammatray Mouse signing off-


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: whitetiger0990 on February 03, 2005, 10:08:57 PM
Sorry but I don't like your story. I couldn't read past "a dark and stormy" because that was a horrible begining to a story (I don't care if it's supposed to be like that). Well that's my two cents.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on February 03, 2005, 10:13:22 PM
i dont care what you think.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Mech1031 on February 03, 2005, 10:14:19 PM
Quote from: "speedlemon"
i dont care what you think.

Woo!  hell yeah!  go Speedy!!!

ehem.  It's good for your first time, just keep at it and you'll do better.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on February 03, 2005, 10:20:30 PM
well thats better than 'i dont like it because of the first sentence.'

i know its not as good as josiah tobins
and its not actually suposed to be scary, or serious.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: whitetiger0990 on February 03, 2005, 10:25:13 PM
What? You wanted comments, you got comments.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on February 03, 2005, 10:32:02 PM
i know. i said 'read my story and make comments' not 'read the first sentence, and tell me how bad it sucks'. anyways i know the first sentence could be better but you couldve said the story needs work. or just read the whole thing before you say something like that anyways.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: whitetiger0990 on February 03, 2005, 10:38:39 PM
I never said it sucks! I just said it doesn't interest me. That sentence has been overused toooooo much.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on February 03, 2005, 11:12:14 PM
sorry man. i guess i just misunderstood you.

still i think its weird that you said you didnt like my story after reading the first sentence


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: whitetiger0990 on February 03, 2005, 11:17:09 PM
Meh I'm weird.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: NovaProgramming on February 04, 2005, 12:07:38 AM
I didn't really get that into it either... but it was mostly because it seems to parallel an awful lot with Brian Jacques' unique Redwall characters, and the way that you narrate it is a little strange...  "I have <such and such> I know this because <such and such>..."  You could have said "<this> evidence led me to do <this>" or something of that nature.

All I can really tell you is to keep trying... but maybe pick some other characters...


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Radical Raccoon on February 09, 2005, 03:25:46 AM
I figured I was trying to hard, so I just decided to start typing and I ended up with one of my better beginnings. I haven't jumped much into the main story yet, but if I did it would be alot to read. Anyways, it's the beginning to some novel'ish thing I'm making. You know the drill: don't read it if you don't want to, if you do read it I'd like to hear your comments, blah blah blah...

Code:

        As soon as the microwave beeped Harold realized that he completely forgot about his dinner. It was suppose to cook for only 2 minutes, but for some reason he set it to 5 and decided to stop it once it reached 3. Why? He wanted to test his sense of time. He sat on his couch watching television and hoped to jump up to the microwave once he got the impulse that 2 minutes had past. Unfortunately, he got distracted by the T.V. and completely spaced it.
        Harold headed for his dinner and opened the microwave door. “What a shame,” he said.
        His cheap dinner was splattered all over the inside of the microwave, macaroni and cheese. “I’ll just get some fast food,” he thought. He was too lazy and didn’t want to bother with cleaning the microwave. He’d rather take the time to drive to Joe’s to easily pick up a combo. As he closed the microwave door he thought, “I’ll clean it tomorrow.”
        It wasn’t at all a good time to head out. It was rush hour. Harold didn’t realize this until he was stuck in traffic. The sun was blinding him. It was at just the right angle that no matter what you did you couldn’t block it, unless you use your hand. Traffic came to a stop. To help pass the time by, Harold turned on the radio. At first it was all white noise, so he hit the seek to find the nearest station. Half a minute went by and no radio station was found. It completely looped through all the possible stations several times.
        “Lousy piece of junk,” Harold exclaimed watching the digital display cycle through all the numbers.
        The car behind him honked. The light had turned green and it was time to move. Harold did so.
        Upon approaching Joe’s (Joe’s Burger Palace was the full name of the restaurant), Harold noticed his friend’s car parked in the lot. This was unexpected being as Harold thought his friend headed south to visit with family. He couldn’t have been back already. Maybe he didn’t leave at all. Regardless, it was always fun to hang with him. Harold’s bad mood evaporated away as he pulled into the lot excited to see his friend; his name was Tim.
        Tim was one of those guys who seemed to always have something interesting to do, but once you got to know him you realized, just like the rest of us, how uninteresting one could be. Still, Tim was one of those guys that made the day better whenever you were around him. You always felt like you were doing something when you were with him, even if it was just sitting on the couch watching infomercials.
        While exiting his car, Harold peered inside Joe’s through the glass to spot Tim. He couldn’t see much with the reflection of all the sunlight. He closed his car door and walked inside to find a very busy place. The most full he’s ever seen. He had to shuffle his way through the crowd to get around. Rather than do that, he went onto the tip of his toes to spy over the crowd to find Tim. He did this 3 times and could not find him. All hope wasn’t lost. There were still other places to look. There was no need to search the restrooms or behind the pillars. He would only take his searching so far.
        Time went by and Harold was next inline to order. Tim was still nowhere to be found. This was odd. It was so busy that Harold was inline for at least 15 minutes. He was sure Tim would have showed up somewhere, anywhere. It had cleared up a bit, and that only verified his absence. Harold looked out the window, and sure enough Tim’s car was still there. The sky became darker as the sun set below the mountains in the distance. It was sunset when Harold first entered the place, now it was dusk.
        Harold lost his appetite from all the vain excitement. He headed back out to examine Tim’s car. At first glance, he was sure it was his car. When he looked closer, he was sure it was still his car, but something about it was different from the last time he saw it the day before. Scratches and dents covered the side of it. The bumpers were covered in dirt. It appeared as though someone took it for a reckless joyride off-road. He was sure it wasn’t at all like this the last time he saw it. After his interest was sparked by the outside, he decided to take a look inside. Through the glass were dusty seats with a lot of wear and tear on them. Before it had been clean inside and the seats had no noticeable tears on them. Now it was a mess, like it had been carrying dirty dogs that had been scratching at the seats all day. Tim wasn’t a clean freak, but he would for sure through a fit if anything like this happened to his car, and he definitely wouldn’t be the one to let it fade into this horrible state.
        A few scenarios passed through Harold’s mind as he was examining the car. For one, Tim could have-no, he would never take it off-road. Maybe he let someone borrow it, but he would have to be trust-worthy and never let anything remotely this close happen. Out of all the scenarios there was one that made some sense, but Harold feared to think it. Maybe it was stolen! Maybe it was stolen by some teenagers that decided to have some fun with it, or some criminal, but that still didn’t explain the majority of the damage.
        After running all of this turmoil through his mind, Harold had decided he was thinking too much.
        “Nonsense,” he thought, “Tim will be out any moment and have some funny story to tell like he always does.”


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: speedlemon on February 09, 2005, 08:28:30 PM
i liked it and now i want to know what happened to that car! :evil:

but im not good at writing so i can't tell you if anythings wrong with the characters or stuff like that.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: zshzn on February 09, 2005, 11:17:27 PM
Some nice stories being put up.  :D

Took me forever to read through all those, being that I don't follow this forum enough to read them as they come.

I used to write a bit, mostly in english, what I have can be found http://zshzn.skudd.com/writings/writings.php. Most of it is pretty old and substandard.  :roll:


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: NovaProgramming on February 10, 2005, 09:51:46 AM
Pretty Good job, it kept my attention ;).  I didn't see too many things physically wrong with it (besides a few grammatical errors), other than my own pet peeves about writing ("He needed to do this, so he did."     instead of something like just plain old "He did this next.")

Good job


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Radical Raccoon on February 10, 2005, 12:28:43 PM
Thanks for the comments.

Quote from: "NovaProgramming"
("He needed to do this, so he did."     instead of something like just plain old "He did this next.")


I don't quite understand. If you could point out some examples in my text, or explain further, that would help.


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: TheBigBasicQ on February 10, 2005, 02:22:26 PM
speedy that is a pretty good attempt!


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: Pc72 on January 09, 2007, 04:17:39 PM
Right now I'm writing a novel on an assembler programmer, who dies in the middle of a program... Anybody interested in reading..?


Title: Anyone write?
Post by: DrV on January 13, 2007, 06:25:03 PM
Ahhhh ancient thread.  :o