How many of you write?

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Avalanche on Fri Nov 13, 2009 1:59 am

Relmitos wrote:
smashbro wrote:Got a couple things left unfinished, but have done shit.
I blame gaming.

This. So many times over this. I'm worried I might not get a project done by Christmas like I wanted to because I'm so easily distracted.

yeah, gaming is to blame for a lot of things I have left unfinished Razz the only thing Im working on now are those 3-panel comics (like Garfield etc) when Im bored in class.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Smashy B on Fri Nov 13, 2009 2:12 pm

I would also like to add laziness and (now current) lack of an attention span (unless I'm gaming).

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  JGH27 on Mon Jul 05, 2010 10:14 pm

Wrote this up last night. Spoilered for questionable content and too keep the length confined lol.

Originally a standalone but have written a 2nd chapter already. Thoughts???

Spoiler:
On a cool summers eve in a sleepy village along Lake Taluha, a stranger stalked in the night. For the past 3 days he’s been wandering, searching the area for something or more of a someone to feed his hunger.

On this particular night Sandy was out past her curfew with Paul at a party where they’d both been drinking quite heavily. At around 2am they decided they were feeling a little frisky and too risqué for the party and wandered off into the woods in search of a good time. They’d found a little patch of earth surrounded by waist height shrubbery, perfect for keeping a low profile. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before both Paul and Sandy were drunkenly groping each other and Sandy was asking Paul if he had protection. As soon as Paul whipped it out, Sandy began undoing his belt playfully rubbing his chest as she did so with a seductive smirk. Laying back with a smirk of his own, Paul let Sandy have her way with him. “Not bad” he thought for only seeing her for 2 weeks. All thoughts went quiet though as pure pleasure took over his body from her saliva wetting him from her sensual tongue work. He closed his eyes groaning as she continued her tongue lashing.

Suddenly her tongue stopped and his entire crotch filled with warm liquid. Sitting up, he starts stumbling over his apology saying it was the booze and that he normally lasts a lot longer. When he finally manages to sober up enough to see in the darkness his eyes focus on the stranger brandishing a hacksaw and he jumps back into a tree while Sandy’s head rolls outta his lap. The realization quickly sets in that he hadn’t came, but the warmth he felt was her own blood pouring onto him. The stranger kicked the head outta the way as he stalked his prey. Paul was on the verge of fainting as he pleaded for his life. The Stranger showed no sympathy as he sent a crashing blow from his left to Paul’s temple. In a drunken, semi conscious haze he could feel the teeth of the saw puncture his juggular. He screamed a thousand silent screams as blood drained from his throat painting the grass a crimson red.

Having fed his hunger, the Stranger creeps back into the darkness from which he came for another night.....

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Minby_Aran on Mon Jul 05, 2010 10:38 pm

Well, JGH, you've just kept me up another few hours. I can actually feel the blade on my jugular, it's eerie.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Doctor Shulk on Tue Jul 06, 2010 5:11 am

J, that's awesome! And frightening, but awesome.

I'm planning on writing some Mills and Boon style stuff...

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  JGH27 on Tue Jul 06, 2010 10:49 am

Minby_Aran wrote:Well, JGH, you've just kept me up another few hours. I can actually feel the blade on my jugular, it's eerie.

Mission accomplished then lol

Thanks Camilla.

So here's chapter 2

Spoiler:
Chapter 2

A phone rang out in the distant bedroom as Henry Jenkins was showering for work. Tabitha was out tending to the garden so the machine picked up Sheriff Tenny’s call. “Hello you have reached the Jenkins, we are unable to come to the phone right now but leave your name, number and message at the beep and we’ll call back as soon as we can”.

Jenkins stepped outta the shower and quickly dressed for breakfast. At the table the daily newspaper was waiting for him as he poured a cup of coffee to go with the toast he had every morning, except Sundays when he had his bacon and eggs. Skimming through the headlines nothing caught his eye. It seemed as though it’d be another slow day at the office in peaceful little Carlow County. Then again, when you were a mortician in a place where there were more livestock than people what could you expect. After finishing his morning ritual he stepped out onto the back porch of their humble abode.

“Tabby!” Henry called to his wife. “I’m heading into work now, is there anything you need me to pick up on my way home?”

Upon hearing her named called out, Tabitha rose from the garden and looked into her husbands worn out face. “Well we have the Nobles coming over tonight so maybe pick up something for desert?” she hesitated for a second before adding “if money permits of course, darling”

Henry smiled at his beautiful wife, “I think I can grab something. Anyways I should get going now. Love you Tabby” and with that he headed back inside while his wife blushed like a school girl. Henry knew he’d been hard on his family lately and couldn’t afford to buy them everything he would’ve wanted to but money was tight right now and even with his side job as a handyman they were making just enough to remain poor.

He’d been praying for a miracle even though the miracle would mean deaths would be the price. Today was gonna be his lucky day and he just knew it. After having two repairs last night to help put bread on the table, it’s easy to see why he’d be cheerful and optimistic. He passed by the phone with the blinking ‘message waiting’ light on pausing only to make sure he had his keys and cigarettes before stepping out into the morning sunlight.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  moondruid on Wed Jul 21, 2010 7:20 pm

Well, I've completed a full manuscript I'm trying to publish, but the agent search isn't going too great, unfortunately. Neutral The novel is a fantasy story and is about 83,500 words. I've posted the first five chapters of it here: http://www.webook.com/project/The-Chosen-5. If any of you are interested in reading it, I'd be greatful to hear your opinions. Thanks! Cool

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Xiaping on Wed Jul 21, 2010 9:34 pm

I wrote a fifteen page film, I started drafting a different script, and I have 4 concepts I need to write down before I forget.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Minby_Aran on Sun Jul 25, 2010 9:20 pm

I actually write lyrics. IDK, I'm just pretty good at coming up with rhymes that fit an idea at certain points, then I string them together. Problem is, I do it mostly in my head, and never get to writing it down. I actually just finished a parody of Ke$ha's Tik Tok as if it were a mad scientist singing it. It's not perfect yet, but I'm happy with it. Anyone have name suggestions?

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Thwompman64 (Goombill) on Mon Aug 02, 2010 7:02 pm

This is a poem I wrote for a girl. I doubt it's any good, but I thought I might as well give it a shot.

It's in a Spoiler thing because...well, I don't have a reason, I just noticed everyone else did.

Ahem...

Spoiler:
She's not just a normal girl to me,
But an angel from Heaven is what I see,
An angel who makes me feel alive,
An angel who makes me feel good inside.

She has the eyes of singing angels,
She's as beautiful as a thousand rainbows,
Her charming voice always calms me down,
My heart is broken when she wears a frown.

She makes me feel happy and alive and well,
She makes me feel calm and relaxed and swell,
She's a very special someone I'll always care for,
She's the kind of girl a long time I've dreamed for.

I wish I could prove my love for her,
Maybe we could just get together,
And maybe she won't think I'm just a dummy,
I hope someday I'll be her honey.

Okay, now, this is one of my first love poems, so don't be too hard on me, but I do want honesty and constructive criticism.

So? What do you think?

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  SnakeInABox on Mon Aug 02, 2010 8:54 pm

I think your signature makes me want to punch you in the face.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  DarkFalco on Mon Aug 02, 2010 9:03 pm

well quite honestly while it is a bit cheesey i think she'd like it. girls tend to like poetry, especially when a guy writes it for her. it means a lot to girls that a guy would put forth such effort.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Thwompman64 (Goombill) on Tue Aug 03, 2010 5:06 am

Well, that's good. I'm glad you thought it was worth it.

I guess Snake doesn't know poetry when he sees it.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  barda_ehmos on Tue Aug 03, 2010 5:44 am

i write my life when my feeling down, i think all makes me bad and test all for out this statu.


Goombill Rezne Koopario wrote:Well, that's good. I'm glad you thought it was worth it.
I guess Snake doesn't know poetry when he sees it.
i join the idea of SneakInABox because anybody come in a forum and make promotion for an other forum. If one want go to your forum, he go. But it's not going to wait for you .

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Thwompman64 (Goombill) on Tue Aug 03, 2010 11:53 am

Okay, okay...jeez...

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Raya on Tue Aug 03, 2010 12:15 pm

DarkFalco wrote: girls tend to like poetry, especially when a guy writes it for her.

I once had a guy write me a long poem about how he wanted me to be his pet in a S/M relationship. Complete in a handmade card. Eesh.

Anyway Goomba, be a bit wary before you send it. There's a fine line between sweetness and creepiness when it comes to writing someone poetry, especially if you're not dating. You know this girl better than we do, so you're the best to judge whether or not she'd love it or just be weirded out.

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King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  SnakeInABox on Tue Aug 03, 2010 1:54 pm

barda_ehmos wrote:i join the idea of SneakInABox because anybody come in a forum and make promotion for an other forum. If one want go to your forum, he go. But it's not going to wait for you .

Frenchie just went up 20 times on my cool list.

Despite the fact we have no idea what you are saying, at least I know now you know what you are talking about.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Ansem on Tue Aug 03, 2010 4:24 pm

Raya, you didn't date that guy with the poem about s/m? shame, he'd put so much effort into that....

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Thwompman64 (Goombill) on Wed Aug 04, 2010 6:43 am

Okay. I said I wrote the poem for her. I didn't say I'm going to give it to her. Besides, I now like someone else.

See, I fell out of love with the girl I wrote the poem for a long time before I stumbled upon this topic. I thought I'd share it with you guys because, well, I write a lot too, not just poems.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Raya on Wed Aug 04, 2010 12:19 pm

Ansem wrote:Raya, you didn't date that guy with the poem about s/m? shame, he'd put so much effort into that....

No offense to the guy, although he's a good friend and a fantastic GM, sexually I wouldn't touch him with someone else's bargepole. He was rather creepy, and that poem was just the tip of the iceberg. He once told me his record for the number of times he masturbated in a single day. PROTIP: This does not impress the ladies.

Besides which, if I had dated him, my other half would have probably set him on fire Laughing

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"We'll be going about our business one day and then someone will be like "hm, where's Barda" and Raya will all suspiciously be like "WELL DON'T LOOK AT ME"..." - Rocket Admin Camilla
King Avalanche:
Spoiler:

FUCK YOU RAYA.

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU

AND

FUUUUUUCKKKKK YOOOOOUUUUU

the one time I trust you with my back and you plant a dagger in it.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  DarkFalco on Wed Aug 04, 2010 12:56 pm

barda_ehmos wrote:i write my life when my feeling down, i think all makes me bad and test all for out this statu.


Goombill Rezne Koopario wrote:Well, that's good. I'm glad you thought it was worth it.
I guess Snake doesn't know poetry when he sees it.
i join the idea of SneakInABox because anybody come in a forum and make promotion for an other forum. If one want go to your forum, he go. But it's not going to wait for you .

very true. quick tip for barda. instead of "he go" use "they go" like the french form "Ils" it changes depending on the usage. with little things like that we can improve your english =)

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  SnakeInABox on Thu Aug 05, 2010 12:48 am

I don't.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Serras-Kai on Thu Aug 05, 2010 1:10 am

This is the prologue to my work-in-progress novel, "Recovery 6: The Karna incident," a sci-fi action thriller detailing a team of advanced "medics" who live in a city where transports simply aren't always an option- and because of that, they often are asked to go into high risk situations in order to evac soldiers who are pinned down. It's a story of a world without moral on the verge of collapse, war without limits, and a single, colossal city that not only contains it all, but may be a dangerous foe all on it's own.

Spoiler:
The air was stale and thick, smelling of ash and gunpowder. It always smelled this way- that is, if there was any time when it hadn't then no one living now had ever known the scent of the city otherwise, nor had their grandparents done so. You got used to it, or so the people seemed to. It was normal this way, normal for things to be so... disgusting.

The ash was all that remained of the ancestors, their bodies incinerated at the bottom rung of the city- hundreds of thousands of miles down. Several "ground floors" down- so much space between here and there. "Here" being along a narrow walkway, from one end the entrance to a building, on the other it became something of a sidewalk beneath another building. It was a city with no streets, only sidewalks and long drops, a spiderweb of similar walkways all the way down until you reached the first of many ground floors. There was a way through it of course, a doorway in some places, in others gaping holes produced by time, war, or design allowed free passage between the various rungs.

But that was so far down from here.

John Alexander Kain, a man of rather large stature strolled haphazardly along the rail-less walkway. You didn't fear heights nor falls in this city, or you'd never get anywhere. Particularly not in this side of town, where the apartments were no lower than the tenth story of a building. Along the outer wall of this particular building was a series of doors seemingly made from glass but in truth something much more durable, some transparent and some not. Each was numbered, each a residence, each spaced an even thirty feet from one another to accommodate for the entire home within its space. This was the way people lived here- looking outward from their own space, and downward onto an intricate network of narrow pathways and buildings so large they doubled as pillars, supporting the next rung up. This was the way of life here, and the people knew no different.

John's own home was the last door on the right (there was no left, unless you intended on jumping, which wasn't uncommon, nor discouraged if you were attempting to get from one walkway to the next) before the turn to the right at the end of the building. He enjoyed this particular apartment, because it was one of only two in this building that actually had a window. And to think, of this territory in the city, they still considered the entirety of this building high-class! Without windows!

But his mind was on other things, more important, more... deadly.

Easing the door to his own home slowly open with the utmost care- his situation was more dire than his rather slow walking pace betrayed. He couldn't afford to show his true panic, to whoever was around. He'd seen no one, talked to no one- but that didn't mean that he hadn't been seen. It only meant he wasn't aware enough of his surroundings to have seen them. He wasn't a fighter, he wasn't a soldier. For gods sakes he wasn't even a politician!

But he was armed, and never before had he come so close to drawing his weapon and killing another human being than the moment his wife and two children screamed "SUPRISE!" upon his arrival at his home for the first time in... he couldn't tell. It had been some time now, and in truth this would be the last time, he just knew it to be true.

His kids hadn't seen him in years, and their joy at the sight of him was only more apparent when they screamed and ran to him, taking particular note of his rather exhausted look and ragged appearance, his formal suit torn, revealing beneath it the black shirt he wore (and in places that too was ripped, revealing skin beneath.) He passed it off nonchalantly, to both his children and his wife equally.

"There was a rather large brawl downtown." He said softly. Even at his rather generous income he couldn't afford a vehicle, so walking was his only option- and he worked across town, hence his living there. Two homes was a luxury most people never saw, and he soaked it up on a regular basis. "Got pretty bad, I'm surprised you didn't hear any news about it." A lie on top of a lie, but it didn't matter because this was the last time he'd lie to her, for sure. He had nothing else to say, and he was worried for her safety, the safety of his kids- they'd be dead within an hour. All of them. Him too, if he was lucky. If not... he shuddered at the thought of what else. A horrid fate at the very least.

"I've not been watching the news." His wife was rather a conspiracy theorist- the government is controlling the news! Heh, if she knew the half of it. "It would've only showed how the GUARD helped anyway."

That was them. GUARD. Mercenaries, soldiers of fortune. The name was no acronym, just a silly name and a thirst for money, all the tax payers would give and then some. They were the true bringers of everything that John was now putting up with- they were the tormenters of his life- his very soul.

Shuffling the children away from him, John gave his wife his unique we-need-to-discuss-something-without-the-kids-right-the-hell-now stare, which she caught immediately, but reacted to late. "Alright kids, daddy will still be here in the morning, when you wake up."

The groan from the kids was astounding but they knew better than to argue or defy their mother. With a sigh and only a short argument that felt more like it was for the formal sake of arguing rather than an actual honest-to-goodness argument, they rather promptly and politely dragged themselves off to bed, without a word exchanged to their father about where he had been nor why he was home so suddenly. If they had asked it may have saved their lives.

"What is it? What's wrong...?"

A hand signal told her that she needed to stop, now. It was far more important that he speak than her- his matter was considerably more important. "I need you to go to the kid's room and tell them a story. A bed time story, tell them I'll be there momentarily and don't you dare leave until I come to get you." His tone had taken a grim sound, far worse than his previous tone had.

Before she could inquire again, he was upon her, his hands on her shoulders and his very air like that of a man preparing to kill another. "Don't. Ask. Do it."
With a look far more worried than he'd ever seen on her face she retreated into the children's room, leaving John alone in the living area. He lowered his gaze, glaring at nothing in particular as the darkness surrounding him seemed as though it clung to him and the things around him and eating of them endlessly.
With something of a growl, John retreated as well, leaving the room empty, truly, and for the last time. No one would enter that room again while it was in that state, not while it was intact. Never again.

Never again.

With a grunt he slammed the door of his study shut, sealing himself within his own room. The darkness here was almost tangible, clinging and choking him as he made his way across the void and into the vicinity of his desk, flipping on a lamp at the moment of his arrival. The light splashed across the room but did nothing for the choking, gagging feeling John felt- this oppressing feeling that had fallen over him. There was nothing, not even peace here. Not any more. Not ever again.

Taking his seat and leaning back as far as possible, John fell into a relaxed pose, but its usual calming quality didn't come with the slouching position. In fact, the uneasy feeling only seemed to intensify, as if to concentrate on him. The ending had arrived. Meaning this was the last moments of his life.
"So I suppose... you must be Siege, then?"

The shadows in the corner, where light from this lamp never fell, melted. The fell from the wall, from the book case, from the cabinet. They seemed to fall and drape over a figure as though it were a cloak. The shadows wrapped themselves around an armored figure, tall and thin, until finally it stood before John, drawn to its full height. Darkness and void draped off of it as a cloak and cape, shreds of torn and tattered dead space waved from small chinks in shining black armor, blending with the cloak seamlessly- it was difficult to see where armor ended and cloth began, if indeed there was one and not the other at all. The final piece of this monolithic creature was the head, staring into its dome shape was the closest John could imagine to staring into the very void.

"Yes."

"So you're here to kill me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

The figure, Siege, approached him without stepping- he seemed almost to glide. "For the things you've done. The things you plan to do. The things that will occur if you are left-" a sharp breath, a long pause, almost like he was searching for the proper word. "-unchecked."

"So then you're just going to kill me? That's all?" John sounded almost offended. Why was that? He'd rather his family lived... right?

"Yes. But I do have a question for you."

"What." It wasn't a question, really- he said it, with all the conviction he could muster.

"You knew I was coming."

"Yes."

"You knew I would kill you." From the folds of the darkness, a weapon. A pistol, older make and model with a revolving 'clip' suited for holding up to thirteen bullets. At one end, hidden by the iron grip of the void, an angled handle and a small button to ring off a round. On the other end, a long barrel, disproportionate to the rest of the gun and making it seem almost lop sided. Siege withdrew this weapon and held it slack to his side, then swung it up to bear on John's forehead sharply.

John hesitated, and Siege took advantage of the silence. "You knew it and yet you didn't arm yourself. You didn't prepare weapons, traps, excuses, you didn't even run from me." The filtered and eerie voice suddenly sounded- angry. Frustrated, even at the lack of attempts to save John's life. "Why."

"Why what?" His coy smile only annoyed the super-assassin more, and he knew it. He loved it, in fact.

The barrel of the weapon pressed against John's forehead, stabbing into him. "Why didn't you even try."

His face turned solemn, his tone deeply saddened. "I've... no regrets." His hand slammed down on his desk lamp, stealing from the world the light that it shared.
The realization reached Siege just too late. The fire from the explosion smashed him into the wall with such force as to throw him through it, the fire consumed the entire complex. The shockwave was felt for miles, the heat for only just farther. The entirety of the building vanished in a blaze of massive proportions and every life was suddenly and violently snuffed out without warning.

For the first time in his life, Siege's recovery beacon activated.

Tell me what you think.

Some of the terms and names are temporary but the idea is completely there.


Last edited by Serras-Kai on Thu Aug 05, 2010 2:07 am; edited 1 time in total

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  SnakeInABox on Thu Aug 05, 2010 1:12 am

I liked it. I didnt read it but I still liked it.

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Re: How many of you write?

Post  Minby_Aran on Thu Aug 05, 2010 10:24 am

Snake, give the man some credit and read SOME of it at least. I'm gonna come back and read that when I didn't just wake up.

Minby_Aran
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