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  1. #51
    Senior Member Synapse's Avatar
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    My writing when I had a writing spurt most of it was meant to be epic, book 1 of 3, page 1 of 300 etc. Then I wrote a plan to write many books, the list was about 15 pages long, epicness being I wanted to start a series that would take up 10+ books and strangely thought I could seriously do it too! O_bviously since my writers block it didn't happen, but boy did I think big, I wrote out a shit load of systems, hierarchies, deities, principalities, family orders, economics, religions, etc. Also since my writing was amateur and I hardly bothered to learn how to write properly, you could tell, its became painful reading sometimes. I learned something since then, I guess the flow is slightly better when I blog and has a certain flair these days though the material is best left unread.

    However here are a few intros of a fantasy and sci fi story I wrote on once and left unfinished like most things I do.

    Intro

    The running places were all about dry. It wasn’t a matter of fantasy; it was a matter of fact. For the running places had a special secret. Almost like a newly born child, the running places sprouted like wildfire, but just as quickly vanished. Not like children, but more like insects. The running places became as fast as one could care to count, almost like a plague, but there was a reason for such infinite like reproduction.

    It’s a matter of ecosystem, everything has its sustenance, everything has its predators, and so too without the running places there would never have been gray mandrakes. It’s a vicious cycle that always comes full circle, after all, like the running places; gray mandrakes consume them as if they were some delicious sweets. Yet that can be further form the truth. It is a harvest of fields of amazing magnitudes that always replenish for the gray mandrakes to consume as fast as they appear.

    But the running places will soon become extinct, that is hard to believe because for every running place, billions of running places can sprout forth from a single running place. Even so something strange and twisted is afoot, nothing that one could ever pinpoint, not to anything of any substance, it is a strange subtle power that seems to consume the running places without end. Indeed if one could imagine an anteater the size of an elephant eating ants with one thunderous swoop, a whole mound would disappear without a trace.

    A certain corruption that seems to stifle the reproduction of the running places as well as devouring every other running place left to existence. And yet this is only the beginning, it is of little consequence, for the running places exist for one purpose and only one purpose. They are nature’s way of compensating for everything that can’t dissolve or decompose back into its bed.

    It’s a funny little thing, such a name given for a form of moss, an intelligent moss, almost like a parasite that is nothing like normal moss specimens. For its not really moss at all, its what humans call it, for that is exactly what it looks like, a black covering, when it sprouts, it can spread across an entire field within days. Humans curse it, gray mandrakes praise it, golden summers loathe it and thunder spirits rejoice in its cool comfort.

    But as there was a time for things to err terribly, these days were about to come in earnest. Nothing will ever be the same again.
    Phenol 5112

    Intro

    Advances in molecular science have made the human body almost impervious to the corrosive agents of every day. Now that humanity has conquered their mortality with nannoculates of all shapes and sizes, it is time to launch a search for sentience, which quickly becomes apparent as many more milky ways are established.

    Having secured a niche in the interstellar markets of the universe, humankind is welcome. Yet some are not so forthcoming. But the larger Corporation of Earth ignores all political influences; after all they are indirectly responsible for all government conglomerates. Forging alliances with strange new kinds of species.

    Many are unaware to the workings of the Corporation, run by a man, who could almost be called a god. For he has lived with humanity since the very beginning of the nannotechnological revolution. For he, the one and only Primoses Calatreva, has outlived hundreds of generations, entering his third century of life.

    Over time Primoses withered body regenerated, re-grew, remolded and reformed into a very healthy and vibrant body. You’d be forgiven to think he be no older than thirty years. Somehow though over the many decades of life, a sense of detachment and loss ensued, a cold and hard man, he no longer classifies himself as a human. For his hatred of his own kind has grown into an obsession.

    While his mind remains tacit as ever, something has corrupted his spirit, possibly alien technology, who can say but today’s Primoses is not the same human of a mere ten years ago. Although dealing with human cargo, he lends his vast empire and resources to the somewhat lesser known Kalaal race, little is known of the kalaality race but a distinct impression has been made, and it does not favor the human race.

    Simon a government agent for many decades finally gets his redundancy, but when his internals almost capitulate, he files a lawsuit and wins, but in doing so he learns some very disturbing facts about the kalaal race. Some of his own nannocular permutations are a byproduct of kalaal blood. This intrigued yet disturbed him.

    As an ignorant stooge, he investigated this phenomenon further, but he was in far deep water than he could handle, however a virtual handler only referred to as Junk 111 assisted him where other avenues failed. But before he could reestablish contact, intelligent firewall nannods intercepted the meeting, frying his only link, not before he copied a significant file on Primoses and the Kalaal agreements. What he learnt shocked him.

    Now, only one man against an entire corporation, he struggles to gain support in avenues only he knows where to look. But in all this time things increasingly become more tenuous, as mysterious shuttles dock at Handle Dock 12. In the coming months Gantree, special alien police units, dog like hunt for his capture, after a long time he manages to evade them, eventually eliminating both of them. Finally returning to his own premises under cloaked verticals, he enters for some badly needed sleep.

  2. #52
    Senior Member Idec Sdawkminn's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Saint Kat View Post
    ...
    After this the exciting part starts: Wesley points a gun at Esther's belly to prove his wife that he loves her. Dorus makes some stupid comment about that. The two men get in a fight (not physically, Esther is a bitch, no one would REALLY fight over her). Wesley threatens to kill everyone, Dorus (who happens to be an experienced fire breather) pretends trying to set Wesley on fire with that bottle of wine. Then some dude runs towards Dorus and claims Dorus is Jesus Christ who came to earth to create the kingdom of God. This gives Wesley and his colleagues (Wesley is a policeman) a reason to arrest Dorus: they simply claim Dorus wanted to commit a coup d'état.
    That wasn't that boring. The "interesting" part definitely sounds way more chaotic, though. Your avatar seems to influence the story for me, like it is the same style.
    "I see you're drinking 1%. Is that because you think you're FAT? 'Cause you're not. You could be drinking whole milk if you wanted to."

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  3. #53
    The Duchess of Oddity Queen Kat's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Idec Sdawkminn View Post
    That wasn't that boring. The "interesting" part definitely sounds way more chaotic, though. Your avatar seems to influence the story for me, like it is the same style.
    Well, I know it's not that boring, but right there the main character is still inside, making coffee.
    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 -


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  4. #54
    Senior Member Idec Sdawkminn's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Saint Kat View Post
    Well, I know it's not that boring, but right there the main character is still inside, making coffee.
    That's why I wrote it more in a screenplay kind of way. It's really boring, though. The really interesting part comes after it.
    This is what I was responding to.
    "I see you're drinking 1%. Is that because you think you're FAT? 'Cause you're not. You could be drinking whole milk if you wanted to."

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  5. #55
    The Duchess of Oddity Queen Kat's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Idec Sdawkminn View Post
    This is what I was responding to.
    Well, it's boring compared to the things that are going to happen after this. And boring compared to the story in total. This is one of the very few parts that aren't a total chaos.
    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.
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    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.

  6. #56
    Senior Member Idec Sdawkminn's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Saint Kat View Post
    Well, it's boring compared to the things that are going to happen after this. And boring compared to the story in total. This is one of the very few parts that aren't a total chaos.
    Nice. I like total chaos.
    "I see you're drinking 1%. Is that because you think you're FAT? 'Cause you're not. You could be drinking whole milk if you wanted to."

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  7. #57
    Starcrossed Seafarer Aquarelle's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Accept View Post
    Nothing like a blog, but I did overlook something I began from another writer's challenge. The story starts with a mini-tale for each character, and all of them are short enough. This was the first:

    In the twelfth year of living, Tasia, a newly appointed Lady of the Lake, is walking alone, exploring her new home on the island of Avalon. The year is 488 A.D.

    Tasia

    The night had grown colder as the heat of the fire faded. Several times Tasia had woken long enough to wrap herself tightly in her cloak, seeking whatever warmth it might offer. Then she would drift back into a fitful slumber, her dreams strange and disturbing -

    Standing on an open plain, she knew however far she might walk, it would only lead to empty horizons and yet, she wasn't alone. There were others waiting for her. Unusual people from a strange land, where odd forms of magic were common place, yet they were also lost, no more a part of this place than she. In gathering they were waiting for something they, as yet, were unable to understand.
    She knew she would be out of place among them, yet also knew they needed her. Without understanding their ways, she was to become a necessary element of their survival. Wanting to know more, she tried to focus the facial features of separate identities, yet each remained a mystery, their faces blurring on the edge of vision. She was about to reach out to the one standing close, but as her fingers made contact she withdrew in the sudden realization that they would expect more than she could give.
    And so the return of the dream each time sleep came, always ended in frustration and fear.


    Tasia knew the end of night was approaching, so rather than sleep again, she would rekindle the fire and wait out the remaining time of darkness. Sifting through the top layers of ash, she dug down to the still hot under layer for warmth. Feeling the heat, she laid a clump of dry grass and twigs on the embers, blowing gently until sparks danced in the maze of sticks. After several tries, a small flame began licking at the grass, feeding and growing stronger until it was able to consume the larger pieces. Satisfied with the fire's strength, Tasia placed her remaining wood on top and sat back to warm the chill of sleep.
    As the fire lit the immediate area for a time, eventually the dawn came to light entire landscape, Tasia failing to grasp the significance of the terrain, for although it seemed different than the previous day, she easily passed it off to fatigue.
    Selecting an apple from her cache, she carefully halved it, placing one half back into her stock and slicing the remainder for her morning meal. As she ate, she tried to make order of the discrepancies of the surroundings.
    Failing again to make sense of it, she did admit that she had wandered off the path. It hadn't been well defined, but this morning it no longer existed. Where a trail should be was only knee deep grass, and the small quarry of rocks she knew should be there, was gone. Even the forest, its trees numerous enough to cast shadows along the length of her travel had become the edge of a copse, her path no longer present atop the slope overlooking the fields of grass.
    Tasia finished her apple, allowing herself a sip of water before deciding to continue her journey. Trusting sunlight to begin the day to the east, eventually she would find something to correct her bearings. Confidant in walking south to find the way, she removed her cloak to wrap her possessions, forming a cocoon to carry across her back.
    Then she continued the journey to the destination she could no longer reach. Another Tasia, in another place, would travel across the land and return to the city that shared its name: Avalon. Another Tasia would live her destiny in the world left behind. This Tasia's destiny was forming in a new world she was only beginning to explore.
    Hmm, cool! I'm a huge fan of the Arthurian legends. I tried to write something based on them once, but it was pretty much a FAIL. :P
    Masquerading as a normal person day after day is exhausting.

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  8. #58
    Senior Member INTP's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Saint Kat View Post
    Yesterday a scene I was writing went a bit wrong. The dialogue was way too theatrical, but today during Experimental Psychology class I got the idea to write the things that happened before the main character interfered. That could make the dialogue a bit more natural, I hope. I'm not going to put it in my story, because it's being written from the main character's perspective and she doesn't notice anything of this. That's why I wrote it more in a screenplay kind of way. It's really boring, though. The really interesting part comes after it. (Like I stated before: I write in Dutch and the story takes place in the Netherlands, so I use names that can apply on Dutch people. "Dorus" is an old-fashionned Dutch version of Theodore, "Guido" is a normal name here and very few Dutch people associate it with Jersey Shore, "Wesley" and "Mariska" are just very common names. Don't think Esther needs explanation.)



    After this the exciting part starts: Wesley points a gun at Esther's belly to prove his wife that he loves her. Dorus makes some stupid comment about that. The two men get in a fight (not physically, Esther is a bitch, no one would REALLY fight over her). Wesley threatens to kill everyone, Dorus (who happens to be an experienced fire breather) pretends trying to set Wesley on fire with that bottle of wine. Then some dude runs towards Dorus and claims Dorus is Jesus Christ who came to earth to create the kingdom of God. This gives Wesley and his colleagues (Wesley is a policeman) a reason to arrest Dorus: they simply claim Dorus wanted to commit a coup d'état.
    i dont know anything about writing so i got no idea if it was well written or anything, but this sounds quite interesting story. one thing where my Ti gave an error message was that red wine does not burn because its so low on alcohol . i think changing the wine bottle to a pocket flask with some strong alcohol for example might be a good idea.
    "Where wisdom reigns, there is no conflict between thinking and feeling."
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  9. #59
    Senior Member Accept's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Aquarelle99 View Post
    Hmm, cool! I'm a huge fan of the Arthurian legends. I tried to write something based on them once, but it was pretty much a FAIL. :P
    Were you writing the realistic, or magical form, and do you plan to try again? If you still have the previous attempt, or have to start over again, it would be interesting to read it here (also a fan of things Arthurian.)

    I tend to be fond the characters in all my stories, but the greatest pleasure in writing comes from allowing Tasia to guide me through the time of Uther, Arthur, and her personal mentor, Merlin. Of course I also enjoy following her in the challenge story, which probably explains why her mini-tale began the chapter.
    Naked to unknown forces, fortune evades mere understanding. The trial of effort.
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  10. #60
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    Here's something you don't see every day... it's the opening few pages of an audio script.

    EMMA’S HUNGRY


    CAST:
    Laura Hughes – A single mother
    Chloe Hughes – Laura’s 8-year-old daughter
    Mrs. Bucher [boo-SHAY] – Elderly shop owner
    Tracy Bucher – Tough teenager (Mrs. Bucher’s granddaughter)
    Martha Simons – Laura’s mother

    SCENE 1
    (CHLOE, LAURA, MRS. BUCHER, TRACY BUCHER)

    SFX – A busy city street.
    SFX – Wooden door opens, bell jingles.
    SFX – Wooden door closes, cuts off street noise
    SFX – Ticking of an old spring-wound clock (throughout scene)


    CHLOE
    (whining)
    Mommy? My feet hurt. I want to go home.

    LAURA
    Just a minute, sweetie. Mommy’s trying to find a present for Grandma. I want to give her something nice when she gets here this afternoon.
    (pause)
    Oh, look…music boxes!

    SFX – Two sets of footsteps.

    CHLOE
    Why do we have to buy Grandma something old, Mommy? Why can’t we get her something new? Can’t we afford something new?

    LAURA
    Grandma likes antique music boxes. She collects them. I thought we might be able to find one here.

    CHLOE
    I don’t like this place. It smells funny, and it’s all dark.

    LAURA
    Sometimes old things smell musty.

    CHLOE
    Does Grandma smell musty? She’s old.

    SFX – Laura laughs.

    LAURA
    Oh, look, Chloe. This is perfect!

    SFX – The sound of a box opening.
    SFX – A sweet little tune drifts into the air.

    LAURA
    Oh, she’ll love this!
    (pause)
    What is that tune? It sounds so familiar. And the wood is carved so beautifully. How much is it?
    (pause)
    Oh, my…only fifty dollars…this is worth every bit of fifty dollars.

    SFX – Creak and rumble of an old wheelchair on a wooden plank floor.

    MRS. BUCHER
    Do you like my music boxes, dear?

    LAURA
    Oh, yes. I’d like to buy this one, please.

    CHLOE
    [whispering] Why is that old lady in that funny chair, Mommy?

    LAURA
    Chloe, don’t be rude! People use wheelchairs when they have trouble walking, Chloe, and it’s impolite to point…or stare.

    MRS. BUCHER
    [laughs softly] Oh, there’s no harm done, young lady. Your name is Chloe, is it?

    CHLOE
    Yes, ma’am.

    MRS. BUCHER
    Well, my name is Mrs. Bucher, and I am very pleased to meet you. Would you like to know how old I am?

    CHLOE
    Are you fifty?

    MRS. BUCHER
    [laughs again] I turned ninety-one last month. They had to make an extra-big cake just to fit all the candles.

    [pause]

    I took to using this chair when my legs got too old to hold me up…but I keep going anyway. Chloe, do you like dolls?

    CHLOE
    Yes, ma’am!

    MRS. BUCHER
    Well, I must have a hundred of them in this old place. If you look around, I bet you’ll find one you like.

    LAURA
    Be careful not to break anything, Chloe!

    CHLOE
    I won’t, Mommy. Thank you, ma’am!

    SFX – Footsteps recede.

    MRS. BUCHER
    You have a good eye, miss. That piece dates back to before the War.

    LAURA
    The second world war?

    MRS. BUCHER
    Oh my, no! The War.

    LAURA
    Ooohhh... the Civil War.

    MRS. BUCHER
    I hate to let it go, but I have to make some money somewhere. Now where’s that granddaughter of mine? Tracy? Tracy!

    TRACY BUCHER
    [from another room, sullenly] I’m coming.

    SFX – Footsteps approach.


    MRS. BUCHER
    I need you to wrap this music box for this lady.

    TRACY BUCHER
    All right.

    SFX – Tissue paper crackling.

    MRS. BUCHER
    Do you collect music boxes, dear?

    LAURA
    Not really; this is for my mother. She’s the collector. She’s really into antiques.
    (pause)
    Here you go. Twenty, forty, fifty.

    SFX – Shuffling of dollars.

    MRS. BUCHER
    Thank you, dear. And do bring your mother by for a visit. Oh…

    SFX – Coughs, hard.

    LAURA
    Mrs. Bucher, are you all right?

    MRS. BUCHER
    [gasps] I’ll…I’ll be all right…just getting my breath is all…

    TRACY BUCHER
    Gran, did you take your medicine today?

    MRS. BUCHER
    [panting] I…I’m not sure…oh, my…

    SFX – Little footsteps run in.

    CHLOE
    Look, Mommy! Isn’t she beautiful? She’s the most beautiful doll I’ve ever seen!

    LAURA
    She is pretty, sweetie.

    MRS. BUCHER
    Oh! [more coughing, ongoing]

    CHLOE
    Can I have her, Mommy? Please! I’ll clean my room every day and take out the trash and do my homework and …

    LAURA
    Oh, I don’t know, Chloe. I’m sure it’s very expensive. I’ve never quite seen a doll like that…she’s almost as big as you are! And look at that beautiful silk dress…

    MRS. BUCHER
    Oh…oh my. I never thought you’d want that one, honey. She’s not for sale. [coughs one more time]

    CHLOE
    Not for sale? You mean I can’t have her?

    LAURA
    If she’s not for sale, she’s not for sale, sweetheart. I’m sorry.

    MRS. BUCHER
    [coughs] She…she’s not really a doll, honey…she’s a manikin. She goes with the two other manikins I’ve got in the back. They belong with each other.

    CHLOE
    But…but she’s wonderful.

    LAURA
    That really is an…interesting manikin. I’ve never seen one quite so lifelike.

    MRS. BUCHER
    They were shipped over from France…they’ve been in my family for generations. My great-great grandfather had them made as tailor’s dummies. [coughs] There were three of them…one each for him, my great-great-grandmother, and their youngest daughter. [coughs] They have to stay here so I can keep them out of trouble!

    LAURA
    Honey, I’m afraid you’ll have to put her back.

    CHLOE
    But Mommy, she said she wants to come home with me!

    LAURA
    Chloe, put her back this instant, and stop making up stories! If you want a doll, pick one out…but this manikin isn’t for sale. You heard Mrs. Bucher.

    MRS. BUCHER
    I’m sorry, Chloe…Emma has to stay here. [coughs, wheezes]

    CHLOE
    I knew her name was Emma. Goodbye, Emma.

    SFX – Footsteps recede.

    MRS. BUCHER
    I’m sorry, miss…I didn’t mean to disappoint… [extended coughing]

    TRACY BUCHER
    Gran, you’ve got to get your medicine and lay down a while. [aside] Stick around…I’ll be back right quick.

    LAURA
    What? Well…all right…

    SFX – Footsteps recede.
    SFX – Coughing recedes.
    SFX – Creaking wheelchair recedes.

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