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Thread: Writers...please post things you've written. :)

  1. #111
    Senior Member Array Synapse's Avatar
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    Dec 2007


    Right then lets continue the mayhem.

    The hustle and bustle of Mindori square always presents for intrigue. Carefully stepping out of the hover jack Simon inoculates everything he touches; one can never be certain what microbe may attach itself to him, even with all precautionary defenses. Relief written on his face he takes the time to scan the environment.

    It’s oh, so quite, for some eerie reason; everyone’s activities are low-key. Curious, Ethereal manglers, ghost vapors slide along the corridors leading towards Captain Crupians Fiber Oculates – a store specializing in nannocular technologies amongst other things. But that is not Simons destination, no he needs to change his identity.

    The transporter tunnels cascades down a water grave of silver mist, a most remarkable connection. Hover tranks traveling through the tunnel end up in New Persia. In the center, are the central grounds, mostly withered and holograph trees, a most ironic succor, to living matter, even an android or two tend to the dying whims of the plants? It’s like, ever since nannoculation all living matter coming in contact with it withers away.

    That again is another disappointing feature that has yet to be ironed out of the nanoculators, for all the shit that’s in the air, my god, ones head would presumably explode, but alas, all nannods are user friendly, my ass, so the government would have you believe. If anyone knows about earlier models, such as mainframes, presumably from which nannocular devices were created, you’d know that a certain amount of radiation emits, not harmful, but in large enough doses could pose serious health risks.

    But in this instance, the technology can’t be compared to such archaic forms of machinery, for humans are naturally in a state of friendly to nannods and nannocular internalization. For without us they would cease to exist. The nannoculates are aware, that is a funny term to have put in the form of the artificialness they represent, but they have an awareness to cooperate within the human system, but that don’t mean they will play fair with anything else.

    As a matter of fact, a lot of flora and fauna has perished, when nannod connections have been established. After all, nannoculates are poison, in every sense of the word; it’s just that everything we’ve ever known about the macrocosm is disturbingly compressed. Nannoculation uses sophisticated poisons to live, I mean how else could they ever survive within our body. For to consume all the waste we manufacture would melt their microcosmic frames.

    Sadly though plant and animal life don’t fair well. Sure they still survive, in virtual zoos more like it, but they are hard pressed, because the nannods that float around don’t sit well with anything but human DNA. That is why there are many preserves, nannod free, even to go so far as to do things manually without any nannoculation. Because we must protect all life and not destroy it, but in a sense it makes people even more susceptible to mental disturbances.

    Mental health in today’s society is the number one killer, and surprisingly thought a person, even with all the nannoculates in the world can commit suicide, although it isn’t pretty. The easiest way, just jump into freefall. That’s right, as with anything, you can die. Even with such strong nannoculates, were a person to jump from a twenty story building, would still survive, but take away the most essential thing for life, oxygen, then every molecule in your body starves and dies, even nannods.

    And still humanity is no closer in determining the after life, that is the funniest piece of slash you can imagine. For with all this nannod activity, who knows weather we burn in hell, or are actually in a living hell unobtrusively?

    Okay but back to the main issue at hand, the back alleys, are the most convenient place to seek out forged ids, that is precisely Simons destination, however, even in the seediest districts, the claws of the police core stretch, and wouldn’t you know it, blatantly obvious too.

    Without hesitation Simon activates his verticals and shreekers. Shreekers are, to the point, tiny vessels of sonic nannods that send pulses across the spectrum to dilute all unfriendlies, a term fashioned to any police core activity. This again only works for the one responsible, Simon, for all nannods are unique, they carry each citizens DNA that they associate with. Thus, you can’t go out and scam, or pillage and plunder devices off of anyone, if that were the case, then things would be a lot more hair raising than they already are.

    No wonder the dividing gulfs between the rich and the poor, the poor have shit, only the standard issues, that barley manufacture enough process to do jack. Most of them still need to tend to very normal and ordinary behaviors, such as urination, excretion, eating, sleeping, tending to wounds, labor, all that sort of jazz of every day. They don’t have it easy, you can see why, there is a problem, even with the nanotechnological revolution, fairness, justice, and virtue even morality have all become redefined, you’d be hard pressed to even know what the terms mean any more.

    With all security deadlocked, confused and in total disarray, Simon enters the back ally, conveniently placed between Shimbas Bequest – an adults entertainment venue and The Krooked Lick – sporting all manner of aphrodisiacs, narcotics and alcoholic beverage, good for anyone needing a right proper fix. Still concerned for his safety, he activates a gruny – a pretender, it pretends to be him, tricking all nannods to focus on the gruny instead of himself. It could almost be like a hologram, yes; even a doppelganger in a fashion, but it is more sophisticated than either of those methods.

    For in today’s environment, there are many hostile nannoculatory nannods, such that can cause great pain or pleasure. Not to mention instant feeds – annoying advertisements bombarding your brain, and any other numerous other unpleasant inventions, some of which many people would be only too willing to displace the inventors, even to go so far as to immolate them. The hatred is rife, in all facets of society, for it forces people to consume, even though its illegal to do this, it happens none the less. In such instances of, specially scripted nannoulators need to be implanted that manufacture sweeper nannods, intercepting everything form, advertisements, to addictive substances, to all manner of, innovative products, so advertisers would have you believe, but are nothing more than virtual pests. Far more tiresome and exasperating, give me mosquitoes any day, one patron muttered, one would even rather pitch himself with rabid dogs than continue being fed the constant dribble half the population have the unprivileged exposure to, its plain harassment.

    Lawsuits by their millions, have had varying degrees of success in stopping this kind of profanity, yet even if it were stopped, you could never shut down all the breeding nannods and their proponents. Unless of course you use something like a golden jackal, but that is highly classified, possession means a penalty of perjury to the state.

    Speaking of penalties and perjury, criminals, even innocents are constantly being shipped away, in there millions. You’d think that with proper nannoculation, you could sterilize all the third would countries, but government, what would they know. We dabble in technology far beyond our understanding and naturally things go heinously out of control. Such as earth’s population, not to undermine anyone though, the more the merrier. But it’s not a fun place to be, especially the third world countries.

    That is why interstellar population is such a booming success. But that isn’t amazing, anymore, not with the autonomous planets, wanting nothing to do with us, some have even got radical pro nannoculatory laws. It is the mysterious shipment of the generally third world innocents that are shipped away from earth that disturbs Simon the most, especially once having access to the Kalaal agreements.

    Thus Simon proceeds towards the shipping grounds for illegal activities, his gruny going past a certain point so as not to endanger himself, he seats himself near Shimaba’s Bequest, an attractive woman immediately approaches. Her desirables exposed, she smiles and greets him. ‘Service, pleasure or business.’ A monotonous voce declares.
    Unpleasantly, Simons face lights up, a slight trickle of nannods stop his heart from excerpting itself. ‘Nothing thanks, juts here, um, for the scenery, is all.’

    With that the woman departs, half amused, half expectantly. The gruny meanwhile stops before a well constructed door, two slits exposing its vulnerability. With a hand motion, Simon enacts knocking.
    A short while later, two blood shot eyes pop through the slits. ‘What’s your Poisson?’
    Miming, Simon asks for an Id. The slits close

    A short while later, the door opens. ‘Come on in.’
    Hesitantly the gruny enters an enclosed room, barley visible through the heavily layered smoke and pot in use.
    ‘Got enough credits.’ The guy asks, wiping his hand on his sleeve shirt. ‘It’ll cost you fifty g’s.’
    ‘That’s a bit excessive.’ Though desperate the gurney shows a smile and presents the necessary nannod codes to activate his accounts.
    ‘Yeah. Times are tough, the police core have of late started cracking down on this district, you should be lucky I can provide an id at all.’ As soon as the arranged sum transferred without bouncing, an Id evaporates out form under his sleeve pocket. ‘Ere you go, pleasure doing business with you.’ Suspiciously the man starts pushing the gruny out the door before he could protest any further.

    Outside, the gurney with the newly appointed Id returns to Simon. Folding the gruny away, Simon does a quick scan of the ID. Dismay crosses his face, as this is a police core ID. Never the less, that isn’t gonna stop him form using it. For Core Id’s are booby trapped. Not in the same sense of the word, but they emit signals back to headquarters of every units coordinates that is the standard issue, fortunately that has been removed. That is only one level though, knowing full well the imbecile set him up, he quickly flicks through his nannod commanders, trying unlock the second level of the ID’s volatile defenses. Within moments his alarms start beeping. ‘Damn, that was quick.’

    Staying where he is, he unfastens his fincher occulate – a tiny tool more like a lock pick. It’s highly magnetized, able to disrupt special gamma rays, such as the third level of the ID cards defenses. For the first level is a breeze, that is the standard, the second all pawnshops know about, but the third, is a tough nookie, not even possessors are aware of it. And they can generally get into any system and unlock it. Fortunately being in government, you tend to learn a lot of classified information, not meant for the public.

    Having a knack for tinkering with sophisticated intelligence’s, Simon pops the offending membrane and fries it, now the card completely secure, he moves several meters away from the general location he knows will attract the vicarious vanguard. Like clockwork here they come, exit stage left, he finds a motel to stay the night.

  2. #112
    Senior Member Array Synapse's Avatar
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    Dec 2007


    I Was going to post the switching in narrative until I started writing about Simon again in chapter 10 and this is what it said, the text you have entered is too long (55316 characters). Please shorten it to 25000 characters long. Ha. Laziness to want to post it in a chunk.

    In hindsight I also stopped writing as it had much to do with my state of heath, and looking back over it there is a lot of negative words, paranoia and depression in the way I used to write, hypothyroidism is like that.

  3. #113
    From the Undertow Array CuriousFeeling's Avatar
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    Dec 2009
    4w5 sp/sx


    The Crusader

    He orders his men to join him in for battle,
    To follow him to the path that he declares
    Is the one that will lead his country and his king
    To the place that the crown deserves to be in;
    To place his king upon the same rank as all
    Other kings that have risen to fame and glory,
    Where all the subjects in kingdoms far and wide
    Have rejoiced over one mention of these great kings.

    This knight leads his men to join the battle for their king
    To reclaim the land as the king’s,
    For all to bow down to him, write his name into history.
    Yet when the knight points out to his men to lead the way
    To go in for battle, to sweep their swords in fury,
    The army, while supportive of their king’s plight,
    Reluctantly stays back.

    The knight comes running into the field,
    Shouts at the top of his voice for his soldiers to run
    Points to them to run up the distant slope.
    So they run with him, and go up the hills,
    Past the dark forests, and climb onto the mountain range.

    Yet, once the knight starts climbing up the mountainside
    He notices his faith begin to subside,
    Once he notices his men going upward,
    And he is losing strength.
    He feels the coldness of the air chill him,
    The reminder he says to himself is that
    He was the One, who was chosen to fight,
    For the name of his king, the name of his country.

    Will he chose to give up his battle?
    Or will he choose to run up the mountain?
    Or will he die in battle?


    “Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings -- always darker, emptier and simpler.”
    ― Friedrich Nietzsche

  4. #114
    Senior Member Array Synapse's Avatar
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    Dec 2007


    Speaking of which, I just found more stuff, back in 02 I wrote plans...epic plans on what I would like to write about. about 25-50 pages of ideas I would like to write about. Then I would divide them and try to create stuff around the ideas, here is an idea I had back then. Its like I actually wrote lists of people, places, towns, factions, countries...more for this particular piece back and I'm to this day astonished by the scope!

    I normally don’t plan things, they just happen in the moment whatever my mood is but I figure it hasn’t worked well. Thus I’ll plan, but not write, just a skeleton and keep it until I become more learned in the ways of literature. I do not feel at my peak and never will, for it takes extraordinary, planning, finesse, dedication, talent and experience to write or even come close to writing such a caliber of work as some do. If I can eventually create a body of work that is five volumes, each at least 200,000 words than I’ll be satisfied.

    I’ve started, a rough sketch, but here I’ll map out various clans, factions and so forth, towns, cities, try to make it very trim.

    I want to make a three tiered spell system, in the mind, in the soul, in the spirit. Channeled, kinetic and other. Not sure how but no one can possess all three, it will kill them. Possessing two is unique, but never three, only a handful are capable in two, a special school remains for this. Having one is spectacular, a latent talent that all have, but it has to be awoken.

    And the evil, it is subtle, evil is as good is, both polarities are tied together, neither can separate.

    Where there is good, evil follows, but where there is evil, seldom good happens. In the spectrum of the morality that is places between both good and evil, it can be expressed as a rainbow, a neutral balance must be upheld at all costs. Bad things, no matter how horrific must always take their course, as must good things no matter how pure.

    There are 23 pillars of evil, erected from the world. Something dark and ancient has been secured, once these pillars are destroyed the equilibrium, the balance will unsettle. But each pillar is unique and from each pillar resides strong currents of evil, it weaves as deep and as powerful as dread magicnar. All the things in death, all things in life, must be reckoned with, but as there are strong currents of evil so too here in lies strong currents of purity.

    Thus in much the same respect there are 27 pillars of light. But not as they seem. They are all spiritual pillars of good and evil normal physical beings can’t find. But some pillars remain unfulfilled. This means that some have already been destroyed, decayed or abolished by some unwitting power. It is written in history that both good and evil were each balanced with 50 pillars each. It takes great wars and prophecy to erode and destroy these unknown pillars. So it must be strange that so many have disappeared.

    But it is told that beasts have been born in people, super beings possessing god like qualities. Each pillar once opened contains strength ethers, beings of untold and untapped power that are pure or evil and compel things to happen in the world. Things that are only written in legend, thus no one knows what calamity transpired for so many pillars to have broken and vanish but in time all will disappear and then it is told chaos is but a stone throws away from redemption.

    Anyway that is to a greater or lesser extent of what the focus will be on. Compelled beings that attempt to open and disrupt the flow of things while champions who attempt to stop this incursion.

    The detail will become more apparent and intricate as I go along, this is only a skeletal sketch that might in the end turn into a series, the hope is for 13 volumes. (I was incredibly serious in 2002 to do something like this.)

    Now for the magic system, they are Magicnar, every act of magic is magicnar. But there are many denominations, but above all there are three primal magic energies that are recognized. Certainly there many more undiscovered types but that is still progressive.

    Lets see gods, angles and demons do exist and are as rampant and devious as any mortal. But there are worse things than these that lurk beneath especially if all pillars are destroyed. In time I’ll develop this avenue as well but for now I’ll let it slid.

    I’ll develop that later; it’ll take at least ten pages to fully create. For now some more names to list that might become relevant sources.

    100 bodies of soul, for the greater self, can only die if and after all 100 mortal bodies die within a space of the century that its threads are a part of.

    This entity is the neutrality, the bridge between the balance between good and evil, right and wrong, morality and immorality.

    Plus for either good or bad to take an active foothold upon the world, first all 100 pillars must fall, both good and bad. 23 pillars remain in evil; pure entities are imprisoned in the evil pillars or seals. While in the 27 pillars of good, evil and vile entities are imprisoned. Not to mention all the traps and wards set in place, but even if the pillars are vanquished the balance will remain precarious until the imprisoned are destroyed, weather pure of heart or vile in nature, neither can stay amidst flesh.

    For the consequences can be nothing short of chaos, be it evil or good, for both polarities no matter how noble or how maligned they might be have power and with power corruption follows no matter what the intent is. Thus the imprisoned if they remain living beyond the 40-year threshold that sustains the balance than life will dramatically alter, history will never be remembered as it once used to.


    The focus comes from an animal. A caster is unable to cast with full force or power unless an animal becomes a kin spirit to the actual caster. Because the channel needs a special link that only an animal with an untainted mind can. After the xxxx years of history taint has affected every human entity alas animals are and never will be affected in the same way humans are.

    A person can still cast albeit in a weaker state than were an animal bonded to that person in every way. That is why sometimes its not uncommon once a long rapport has been established for telepathy between them a common occurrence.

    This is but one essence to establish, not everyone can become one with the animals as the phrase goes. The animal must first accept the person and the personality must match. Then there are creatures with an exception to the rule who are humanoid, semi intelligent and even tainted and one must never bond with such creatures for the taint might consume the person.

    In a similar fashion objects can be manipulated to increase the power level of a caster. For it takes great energy for casting and to have the best performance things must be used to deflect some of the sting and hurt that casting does.


    The dread spreads faster than the taint. The dread reaches every corner, every stone, and every crevice that does not live. I do not know what is better. To have the taint or the dread. Sometimes things would be simpler if the tainted took me, but the dreaded, they were a far darker cloud to surrender. Then I wondered why the dread touched me so, for it did not take, not at first, not as one would expect. The dread is many things and none; it has no boundary, no discrimination like the taint. At least with the taint one knows it can only be spread by and through the tainted, and the tainted are hard to come by these days, Yet the dread is so much different, it is almost like a plague, yet its source is not dark as the taint itself. It’s almost as if the dread had a purpose, yet the dread was something to fear without end. It consumed things, and when it became a part of you, then doom was always a door knock away. But Tamlyn knew not why he felt almost in comfort. A sense of knowing as if the dread felt good, not evil or hard but good and pure, as if people feared for the wrong reasons. But fear is a strong force that drives a man at the best of times. It isn’t as simple as this. It is an insipid illness if it is broached, almost like a poison inside a poison. It must have something to do with the well of seeing, an old legend as long as time itself.

    I it is little relief what had gripped me, first the taint than the dread, as if a new parasite repulsed the old, yet in both instances Tamlyn was not lamed or crippled, at the best of times died through the vice like grip both diseases were notorious for. It almost seemed as if some hidden power with me absorbed both agents, neutralized them, even to go so far as flourished under the duress. As if something grew within me, I did not understand then what it was that grew in me, and maybe I shall never, but knowing that I had been possessed of both taint and dread did not help the situation. I know I should have died the all knowing thousand needles of death yet I still live, breathe, I am still born of flesh, it sounds incredible. But I must not dwell on these thoughts, for there are far worse blights than both the taint and dread combined. In a way it almost makes me feel invincible if such diseases mean nothing to me, but I feel so fearful what this might mean, I dared not stay here any longer. It will not take long for the residence to realize what has happened.

    It doesn’t take a grand healer to realize I’m free of the dread. What will they think then, that I am something else, possibly something to fear or maybe something to wonder. I do not wish to know the outcome, it was a stupid idea to come here to begin with.


    The many identities of soul

    We are all of us with soul, but it is only one personality, character of a souls body that we become as physical representatives.

    This means each time we die as mortals do, we are not truly dead but spirited away to our greater self, our truer self.

    We are born as any people yet the experiences we encounter are but one of hundreds if not thousands. We take on specific life personifications, weather we choose to or not. They are there to give us pause, to experience and learn things that ordinarily we did not expect.

    These bodies we occupy are ourselves in essence but each time we perish we become unto ourselves the greater self, the knowing of our whole. Knowing all the experiences that have been born out of every life we have been presented with. This means that as spirits we become aware of our full self. In that respect we understand a little better what it is we are trying to seek, never entirely satisfied for desire still stands. Whatever life befalls us, always-previous lives that preceded us will remain hidden beyond our reach. Aware of some subtle thought that nudges at the back of ones mind, but never too aware that we were anything more than the life that currently holds us steadfastly in these times that we think is the greater reality.

    In a manner of speaking, the current reality as we know and perceive it to be is the greater reality we come to know and trust. But the truer reality is the reality beyond life, it is in spirit, it is our soul that knows the way, weather we accept or ever knew. In all the kaleidoscopic colors of life that we have been subjected to, good and evil must be put aside. Sometimes one trembles to remember what they were in their previous lives sometimes it is a blessing to know the difference one has been to others.

    So too it seems we strive to learn and experience as much as possible. It is a strange thing that we are never whole, or indeed shown who or what we were so as to somehow steer clear of the mistakes made in the past.

    Yet it is a process of discovery, blinded as a mole, yet sensitive as a cat. We try to learn something, to fulfill contracts, to find a sense of knowing, an enlightened phase of reality where we become the knowing, but what does it all mean, weather in one body or another. Do the scents seem familiar if one is thrown with strangers tied to past lives, but then one can never be sure.

    Yet the lore holds fast, life is never what it appears to be for indeed we are here to learn a lesson. What lessons we learn depends on what we want to learn, what desires we have been instilled, what drives us, but above all our compunction to be compelled, no matter how faint, yet real.

    The possibility is there yet we are all incomplete, in our mortality we yearn to know, to belong, to find meaning. Yet once we leave our places behind, what are we, one soul of many, experience and dreams to harden and form our truer self.


    A force, weather evil or good is yet to make its presence felt but a force stays in life. An antediluvian entity has a body but it is one of many bodies made in rotation, it is one of a hundred strings that this entity pulls each as real and as compelling as the next. If all life threads this entity is a part of die, according to legend, life will intermittently become darker. Possibly even die.

    For this entity is all of these persons, one and all, yet at the same time it is said it is neither and none. Some say that they are but vessels of experience that this entity threads so it may learn and evolve towards its greater consciousness. Others claim it is a god amongst its people, looking after or punishing those that are no longer respecting old lore.

    But whatever the truth this entity must remain, if all one hundred persons were to fall victim to death then the balance between life and death has been dramatically altered. It is natural in the ebb of life for many to die, but if more than half die in the century that its threads have been a part of then something makes itself known to do so purposefully.

    For while all the threads, all hundred threads exist, the entity is none aware of any one person, yet at the same time completely aware within its greater consciousness. Each century the renewal occurs, all personalities and persons that this person was or has been prior to the beginning of a new century return to the greater self. 40 years of contemplation the entity undertakes, to learn what it must, to seek what it needs, never to find why.

    Yet it is in these years that danger is most heightened, for the powers that be, weather pure or maligned can take and do have a far greater reign than when this entity did so exist. Alas the balance always remains, and after fourty years the entity returns to yet further experience and for another hundred threads to stay within time.

    It is said that one day a tragedy so great, the world has not seen before will strike, that all the threads that remain of this entity will fall and die. If such a thing were ever to happen the greater self itself will be threatened. Not before the earth will enter a time of madness. For in a way this entity, while not at all aware is a magnet, a center point for life to gravitate on call, and when it falls everything falls.

    Thus it is no mere coincidence that some, if not all personality types, become and are people of significant importance.
    Holly molly, what was I smoking in 2002 I want some.

  5. #115
    78% me Array Eruca's Avatar
    Join Date
    Nov 2008
    5w4 sx/sp


    Oh boy poetry. My first ever attempt at a poem (that I remember!). Here it is.


    Walking The Rope

    A good friend once took me
    By persuasion
    To a house of dancers, clowns and lions
    Where I walked along
    The thinnest strip
    Between mad grabbing fires
    And frozen tundras
    Of obscuirity.

    There, the dancers shot
    With haughty stares
    My legs
    While clowns jeared and mocked
    And the lions roared
    For greater feats

    The rope
    Though I stood in open air
    Was to me a prison
    That stretched to infinity
    Its hopeful end being
    One day
    To crack that ice
    Against my harder skull
    Or to lose myself
    In those crazed fires

    Is this not fun?
    My audience cried to me,
    Not wanting me to fall.
    And did cheerily,
    Bid me stay forever
    To entertain them all.

  6. #116


    I wrote this for a short story contest held by NPR. I also found it 45 minutes before the deadline, so it's kind of rushed. The restrictions were:

    1. Under 600 words
    2. Must begin with the sentence "Some people swore that the house was haunted."
    3. Must end with the sentence "Nothing was ever the same again after that."

    Also, props to anyone who can find the gigantic logical mistake I made. Doh!

    __________________________________________________ ________________________

    Some people swore that the house was haunted. As is frequently the case with small town gossip, they had the facts right but missed the point entirely.

    Emily was a bright girl, more so than girls were required to be in her day. Intelligence frequently breeds loneliness, and so it was for Emily. The family owned a country estate in Savannah, and Emily spent her days with the horses. She loved the freedom of riding, but even more than that she loved how it gave her an excuse to spend time alone. Emily did all her best thinking astride a horse, and did so right up until the day when her mount was spooked and ignored her efforts to bring him under control. He managed to shake free of Emily except for her ankle, which stubbornly remained tangled in the stirrup.

    Charles was a man apart. He prowled the halls of his family’s estate, working overtime in his peculiar way. That is to say he spent his days daydreaming of things that never came to fruition. Charles was a man on the verge. Of what, no one could say. His parents had died young, nouveau riche who’d purchased a sprawling parcel in Savannah and then struggled for the stature to fill it. His sister had married and moved away, and that left Charles the master of empty hallways and the custodian of fallow fields.

    The first time that Charles saw Emily, she was so faint and reticent that he mistook her for a curtain. Over the next few months, she became more visible to him, both physically and emotionally. They sat wordlessly in the study, Charles holding the book and turning the pages, simply basking in the company of a like mind. Charles longed to touch her, but of course he could not, and Emily’s face registered the same disappointment as his own. They’d each found the other half that neither had any reason to expect. But the pain was all the worse for lovers that shared the misfortune of separation not by distance but by time, occupying the same house but different centuries. They missed each other by mere inches and by one hundred years.

    It was then that Charles was prompted to finally turn his ideas into action. He’d let his passions dissipate before, but it was not to be the same with Emily. This time he was going to finish.

    Charles spent weeks papering the walls of the estate. Every spare inch of space was covered with pages from books. Books that Charles and Emily had never read. He worked night and day, leaving not even the ceilings and the floors uncovered. Finally, Charles had emptied the study. He sat and had a cup of tea, admiring his work. Then it was time to join Emily and make his plan complete. Charles came for her and they made their way to the study. He climbed up and placed his head into the loop. Charles smiled broadly and gazed into Emily’s eyes before kicking away the stool.

    Nothing was ever the same again after that.
    Everybody have fun tonight. Everybody Wang Chung tonight.


  7. #117


    This is one i just wrote and im still feeling the emotionsss soooo its not edited in anywayy shape or form but whatever here it is its called

    "Angela Vallis"

    when will you come say hi?
    when will you never say bye?
    when will you tell me ' I'm in"
    I just wanna know when we can swim?

    You seem to be flirting?...
    I'm not a good judge.
    maybe your too nice?..
    I don't like to dress mannish..sorry.
    I like naturality preferably

    Now while I dream of you
    can you make an advance
    my eighty percent gay mind runs lost and scared
    you can answer my lady prayers

    I'm starting to think everyone is afraid of me?
    or mocking me.

    You can give me rock and stability.
    I'll open up and trust you.
    like a real romance
    i wanna be your friend.
    but initially your lady lover.
    please give me something.
    M-T: 3-5
    F: 4-6
    you take the same book out every second day
    I check the pages...

    Your being im in love and lust with
    the two combined in a sea swirling and taking ahold of me.

    Your hair long and brow, beautiful smile
    oh my god your calm demeanour and
    your skin
    so warm oh to touch your skin would be magic in itself.

    I just want to hold you.
    Smell the fresh and cleanliness of your fragrant body.
    to kiss your soft shoulders like tanned peaches.
    two sheets of silk glide
    to take our time
    enjoying the selfish connection and sensations it is supposed to be.
    unconventional love no others can give.
    I feel you would see.
    see me. see unconventional.
    honest love.
    your spirit smells of lemons and grass
    hold me.

    The doubt fills in
    to not note would be false
    I'm fat, ugly, young, naive, quiet, stupid, pungent, ashamed, lazy, hypocritical, a dreamer, lost, non-experienced, selfish, lonely and
    you may see this
    and say " I'm Straight".

    sorryy its how i feel right now and its the internet and whatever im having unrequited love issues haha oh my writing helps me feel better :P

  8. #118
    Consulting Detective Array Mr. Sherlock Holmes's Avatar
    Join Date
    Aug 2010


    Here's a poem called Apathy

    I was going to write a poem about how apathetic I feel sometimes
    But I can't be bothered.
    Ti | Fi | Ne | Si | Te | Ni | Fe | Se
    Enneagram: 5w4 sx/sp

    "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

    "It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts."

  9. #119
    The Duchess of Oddity Array Queen Kat's Avatar
    Join Date
    Apr 2009


    A few days ago I felt like writing a file about my favorite villain from my big writing project, so I did. It's a pretty big file and I need to translate all of it, so I'm going to post it in a few parts. I also translated the names and I placed the story that's originally in the Netherlands to America, because everybody knows America from TV and if I keep calling Dutch town names no one understands what the hell I'm talking about, except for Dutch people. I tried to make the names and the places represent the names and places used in the original (village near Aspen = village in West-Friesland, just because. Phoenix = Tilburg, because Phoenix is the 6th biggest city of the USA like Tilburg is here and it's location reflects Tilburg too). I hope I don't offend anyone with it. I just translated it and tried to put it in an American context (the father was also in Nam in the original, so I didn't change that). Okay, why the hell am I afraid of hurting people all of the sudden? What the heck, here is part one.

    The Evi L. Files
    The biggest cover-up scandal in human history

    Saturday, October 10 the whole world was shocked by the countless murders Evi LeFric, born as Evelyn Cash committed. Up till now 150 bodies are found in and around the mansion of miss LeFric. Some of the victims were killed over ten years ago. The police knew of Evi LeFric’s misbehaviour for more than twenty years. Why did the police cover up this scandal for so long? Was it possible to stop LeFric in time? A biography of one of the most notable serial killers of the moment.

    December 12, 1974. Natasha and Evelyn Cash, identical twins, get born in their house in their house in a little town near Aspen. Their mother Marjorie is a stay at home mom and she already has an older daughter, Abigail. Father Casper Cash, a born patriot who always kept the faith in the fight against communism, is then fighting in Vietnam voluntarily. Marjorie and her mother in law, who helps to take care of the three girls, pray for Casper Cash’s life every day. When the war is over and Casper Cash returns, he’s pretty bummed because he couldn’t stop the communists by himself. To cheer him up, his wife takes him out for dinner. Abigail, Natasha and Evelyn are left at home. Casper and Marjorie ask their sixteen year old neighbour Anita Francis. While they enjoy theirselves downtown, at home a giant drama takes place that will soon change the world forever.

    It’s seven o’clock. Natasha and Evelyn Cash are asleep and it’s also bed time for their four year old sister Abigail. Anita takes Abigail upstairs, brushes her teeth and puts her in bed. Then all of the sudden Evelyn starts crying. Anita runs over to the baby room and takes Evlyn out of her cribb quickly. She tries to comfort the baby, but nothing helps. Evelyn keeps crying. The crying noise wakes up Abigail and she gets out of bed, to check out what’s going on. Anita commands Abigail to go back to sleep and decides to go downstairs tof eed little Evelyn. Halfway on the stairs Anita steps on a toy and she falls over. She drops baby Evelyn, rolls down the stairs and crushes Evelyn. When Casper and Marjorie arrive home at nine PM, they find little Abigail crying at the front door. Anita Francis is dead. Evelyn has multiple bones broken and .her brains are severely damaged.

    At first, Casper and Marjorie are just happy Evelyn survived the fall.
    “It was a miracle Anita Francis’s weight didn’t kill her,” says Marjorie Cash. “Anita was pretty heavy, not just slightly obese. Sumo wrestlers are skinny bitches compared to Anita, I’m not joking. But Evelyn had to stay in the hospital for several weeks. She had so many broken bones, all the plaster bandage made her look like a mummy. The bones in her face were broken too, so the doctors had to perform surgery on her to reconstruct her face too. Evelyn looked pretty dreadful, she was nearly unrecognizable, but the surgeons performed a marvellous job. They brought her face back to the way it was. Casper and I were so grateful. After little Evelyn came out of the hospital, we thought the worst was all behind us. Things would only get better from now on.The doctors told us that especially Evelyn’s frontal lobe was damaged and this could mean that Evelyn could turn a little wreckless in the future and develop memory problems and other things. They didn’t try to scare us, they knew things would turn out worse, but they just tried to comfort us. When we heard what they told us, we just thought ‘so be it’. As long as she gets better.”

    Evelyn recovers very quickly after the accident, but as she and her genetically identical twin develop, Casper and Marjorie notice a huge difference between the two girls. While Natasha is the sweetest, most adorable and curious girl in the world, Evelyn misbehaves constantly. Casper: “Natasha was always vey sweet and adorable. She never did anything she wasn’t allowed to do, as if she was aware of it before even thinking about it. She was very responsable for her age and she’s still the most responsable woman I know. Evelyn was simply mean. She was always cruel towards other children. She hit them, she stole their toys or she broke them just for fun. She always did whatever she wanted without hesitation and she even did these things when she knew it could be bad for her. She was always cruel to animals. Pets, of course, I’m not talking about flies or cows or chickens, you can hurt them if you want to. No, Evelyn was also cruel to pets. On the day that she stole my Zippo and found out how it worked, she set the dog on fire. The DOG! I was there, so fortunately I could save the poor creature. Okay, I didn’t literally save him. He kept having a huge trauma. He got afraid of toddlers with Zippos and his fur never returned so we had to kill him anyway. But right there, me and my Marjorie knew it: we had to get Evelyn out of our lives.”

    Casper Cash’s brother, police commisioner Lewis Cash and his wife, scientist, inventor and biotechnoligist Clementine wanted to have a child all of their life, but every attempt to get pregnant ends in a miscarriage. Casper and Marjorie suggest them if they’d want to take care of Evelyn, claiming that taking care of three kids is a little bit too much for them. Lewis and Clementine are absolutely delighted when they get this offer and they accept it right away. In March 1978 the couple adopts Evelyn and raise her as if she was their own daughter. A few months later the family changes their name into LeFric, a French translation of their name, because Clementine, a fanatic country music hater, is absolutely tired of being associated with country legend Johnny Cash all the time.

    A few months later they move to Phoenix, Arizona. There Evelyn goes to kindergarten for the first time. Her teacher is very satisfied about the little girl who’s a monster in the eyes of her biological parents. Her first report card says:
    “Evelyn is a very neat girl who took over my tasks as a kindergarten teacher after a few weeks without me even asking for it. When other children do something wrong, she corrects their behaviour by punching them. This is really helpful, but make sure this doesn’t become an obsession!”
    In her later years teachers are very happy about having Evelyn LeFric as their pupil as well, even though some teachers do notice that she acts outrageously violent towards other pupils from time to time. Evelyn is phenomenally popular with one half of her peers, the other half fears her. Evelyn only sees her biological parents on family birthday parties, until she’s eight years old. Then her parents decide they never want to see her again, after she locks her twin up in the freezer. That’s the last time they ever see each other.
    I was sitting outside the classroom waiting to go in, and I saw an airplane hit the tower. The TV was obviously on. I used to fly myself and I said, "There's one terrible pilot."
    - George W. Bush -

    SCUAI - 7w8 sx/sp - Chaotic Evil - Fucking Cute - ALIVE

    Blog. Read it, bitches.
    Questions? Click here
    If you don't agree about my MBTI type, you can complain about it here. I've had plenty of people telling me I'm something else, in my reputation box. That's annoying.

  10. #120
    The Duchess of Oddity Array Queen Kat's Avatar
    Join Date
    Apr 2009


    The EviL. Files, part 2:

    Even though Evelyn turned into a wreckless and a pretty unempathetic person, nothing happened with her memory. There was nothing wrong with her intelligence either. Just like het genetically identical twin who’s still living with her parents in Colorado, Evelyn becomes a straight A student in middle school. She’s one of the most popular students and is loved among the majority of her peers and teachers. Mr. Williams, Evelyn’s middle school teacher: “What I remember from Evelyn is that she was one of the most driven girls I’ve ever seen. Whenever someone asked her what she wanted to be when she grows up, she said ‘I want to be a millionair’. Haha, she was one fun gal. She was always doing the best she could and she expected others to do the same. When they didn’t, she got freaking pissed, haha! Then she’s just pick them up and throw them out of the window. I loved her, as a pupil, not in some romantic or exual way, of course. I only have good memories of her. She had a crush on me when she was thirteen. Isn’t that just adorable? I couldn’t do anything about it, I mean, come one, look at me, I was twice her age back then! It was realy funny when 1988 she gave me a little ornament she made by herself and a poem that she wrote for Valentine’s Day. That poem was over a hundred pages, it was practically a book! She worked on it for two months, so she put a lot of work in it. I still have the poem, I put it in the book case in the living room. I also have the ornament, it’s in my work room by the way. I thought it was adorable, so from that moment on I systematically gave her the highest grades of her year, even if she hadn’t done a nice job. No, I didn’t expect that she’d turn into a serial killer. Well, she was pretty spicy, but that spicy?”

    But the life of Evelyn, who chose to live under the name of Evi LeFric from the moment she learned her parents never wanted to see her again, also has a less happy side. Around the time Evi hits puberty, her first crimes are being registered by the police. In January 1988 a neighbour tells the police that Evi LeFric tortured her seven year old son. In April the same year Evi robs and beats up an old lady and kidnaps her dog. That summer one of Evi’s classmates is found hanging upside down in a tree. Once he’s rescues, he claims that Evi hung him up there after they got in a fight about whether or not his shoes were out of fashion. And that’s not everything yet. The police ignores all the crimes Evi LeFric committed. Among Evi’s victims is the daughter of world famous science fiction writer Harold Grendel, Gabrielle, who reports that Evi tried to kill her. The police doesn’t listen. Instead the police protects Evi and covers up all of her crimes, just to protect the reputation of her uncle and adoptive father Lewis, who has one of the most important jobs at the local police station. In March 1989 Evi gets kicked out of school, after sucking the ink out of all of her math teacher’s ink cartridges when she got angry at him for giving her a nasty look.

    Evi gets sent to another school. She doesn’t fit in there that much, because here her peers and her teachers aren’t that happy with her hyper correcting behaviour. She hates that beating up students who haven’t finished their homework properly isn’t toerated anymore and it makes her stop working hard herself. The former straight A student becomes a B student and later a C student and suffers from chronical unpopularity. Evi tries to distract herself by doing art and following painting classes. She paints a lot of bloody and violent sceneries and writes tons of melancholic poems. Milly MacDonald: “Evi was pretty much ahead of her time. She was an emo before it even became fashionable. Okay, she could have been a goth, but she wasn’t, because she dressed differently and she used to flush the absinth and the cigarettes the goths had with them down the toilet. The emo description fitted her better. We was always sitting in a corner, making depressing drawings and poems. She was never cheerful. I’m not surprised that she killed so many people. She was exactly the type of person you’d expect to do such thing. Once I was shopping downtown with a friend of mine and we saw her their too. My friend pointed at Evi and she said these exact words: ‘If that’s not some freaky serial killer, I don’t know’. I got a call from her jsut recently after the murders became big news and stuff and then she said ‘I told you that time when we were downtown and we saw her’. Amazing!”

    Evi has enough of high school and when she’s in 11th grade, she already applies for a place in art school. Even though she hasn’t finished high school yet, the art school employees are impressed by her talents and Evi can start right away. Evi moves to New York and life seems to change. She feels perfectly at home in art school and her teachers call her “highly talented, utterly passionate and deadly honest”. Her work however is pretty much the same as what she produced in high school. One of Evi’s art school teachers, who wants to stay anonymous out of safety reasons, shows us Evi’s portfolio. Evi’s sceneries are still pretty macabre. “It was immediately very clear to anyone of us that Evi prefered gruesome subjects. Look at this, this is one of the first paintings Evi made here. We told her and the other students to make a paintin that gives us the feeling of Christmas. Well, Evi made her own version of the nativity scene. In the front we witness the birth of Jesus Christ. As you see it’s very realistic. Mary screams like a pig, she’s bursting open, the entire crib is covered in blood and Joseph records everything with a handycam. In the back we see the three wise men slaughter sheep for Christmas dinner. Next to them we see Santa Claus raping an ox. It’s pretty guesome, but look at those details! Look how perfectly the head of Jesus Christ is popping out of his mother’s damaged birth canal. You can count every single hair on his head. Even Michelangelo can’t live up to that!”

    Art school is very easy for Evi and she becomes one of the top students in her first year. But then the summer of 1993 arrives. Evi goes back to her old home in Phoenix to visit Lewis and Clementine for a few weeks. One afternoon she goes out and walks in to Gabrielle Grendel at a local McDonald’s, the writer’s daughter who Evi tried to kill a few years before. The two young women start fighting. Gabrielle breaks Evi’s neck with a toilet seat and leaves quickly before anyone notices. Evi gets found a few minutes later. She survives and gets brought to the hospital right away.There it appears that Evi’s spinal cord is broken and she will never be able to move or feel anything down from her shoulders. She has to lay in bed all of the time and she can’t attend the case against Gabrielle Grendel, who is now being charged for trying to murder Evi LeFric. Meanwhile Clementine LeFric starts working on a machine that can help Evi move and breathe on her own again. In 1995 the machine is ready. It’s a machine that picks up signals from the brains and translates them to movements by sending electric shocks to the muscles. Once Evi’s body is connected to the machine she returns to NewYork to finish her art school education. She graduates very quickly. In 1998 she moves back to Phoenix and starts living in the masion where the 150 bodies were found.

    Evi LeFric is still on the loose, but while she’s unfindable, we still learn more and more about her. What do we know about the last eleven years of her life? We visit LeFric’s mansion with a detective who would like to remain anonymous. The first thing that we notice when we walk in: the smell. Detective: “Well, this house had great isolation. LeFric had tons of dead bodies in the attic and normally you’d smell that outside too. That’s why we advice everyone to wear a gasmask before entering this place. The mansion cooled down since she left, but back then the heating was permanently on sauna temperatures so the bodies would decompose quicker. In the attic the temperatures were even higher. She did a fairly good job to be honest. The mansion also has a cellar. The door was open when LeFric left. She used to torture and kill her victims there. She sometimes also locked them up for some months, infected them with horrible diseases and dumped them at their old homes when they were nearly dead. She kept a diary. At one point she kidnapped a group of teens, locked them up, infected them with AIDS, waited until the victims lost consciousness and she knew that they were about to die. When she knew their final hours had arrived and they were incapable of telling on her, she brought them back to their families. Just for fun. There are so many things I can tell about her.”
    I was sitting outside the classroom waiting to go in, and I saw an airplane hit the tower. The TV was obviously on. I used to fly myself and I said, "There's one terrible pilot."
    - George W. Bush -

    SCUAI - 7w8 sx/sp - Chaotic Evil - Fucking Cute - ALIVE

    Blog. Read it, bitches.
    Questions? Click here
    If you don't agree about my MBTI type, you can complain about it here. I've had plenty of people telling me I'm something else, in my reputation box. That's annoying.

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