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Old 06-15-2009, 08:02 PM   #31
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Has it been two weeks yet?
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Old 06-16-2009, 12:08 AM   #32
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Reborn is winnar.


Anyway, finished my actual entry (I can only write it when it's like 3 in the fucking morning!). It's a bit of a lengthy one; I think it amounted to 5 or 6 pages in OpenOffice. So if people don't read it all, I understand.




------------------------------------


My eyes slowly opened... They opened, yet, there was nothing. It was as if the world had gone into a complete state of stillness... Motionless... Nothingness... My nostrils filled with the scent of stagnant air and the odor of bile. The taste in my mouth was metallic. My whole body was cold.

I immediately raised my arms, flailing them frantically to find something solid. Slamming the palms of my hands against two walls and the ground, I realized I was in the corner of a dark room. The floor was frozen like ice, but the walls were hot enough to seer the flesh from your bone.

Where was I? Who did this to me? What was going on? In my moments of panic, I raised to my feet and screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping someone in the darkness would be able to guide me away from this horrible place... But there was no reply. The sound of my voice rang through the thick black like there were no other walls than the ones beside me. No echo. No light. No hope.

I started to shiver, so I leaned toward the fiery walls. Strangely, they were not giving off any heat, despite what I felt earlier. I tapped the hidden barrier to feel it still burning like before. I began to pat along my body to be sure I didn't have any frostbitten areas from laying on the ground. Every limb could sense just fine; my fingers were still intact. I sighed and plopped myself upon the icebound ground.

I sat in this state for what seemed like hours. Every so often, I would try another unanswered call, thinking this time, someone would find me and realize that I don't belong in this strange world and take me away to a better place of epic grandeur.

Or was this where I am supposed to be? Where I belong?

It wracked my head with pain to try and remember anything whatsoever. It felt as if the memories of my life itself had eroded from my brain. For some reason, the image of a bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with dark chocolate, whipped cream, and a cherry delicately placed upon the swirl of fluff, all left in the sun's blistering rays to melt darted through my head, tantalizing my senses.

My stomach began to growl. I curled up into a ball and began to cry.

But then, a return. There was a second voice. This one was quite silent, but audible enough, almost whispering in my ear. The sound of it echoed throughout my entire being as I began to smile. Finally! Someone else! I opened my mind to listen to its words, but hearing its sound changed my smile to a solemn stare into the emptiness around me.

“You'll never get out of here. You cannot escape.”

It was my inner thoughts, creeping from my head and manifesting into another being. This must have been my Doubt.

I spattered through my tears and gritted teeth, “S-shut up. Someone will save me.”

“Save? YOU? Ha!” I could imagine Doubt throwing back its head and laughing to the ceiling or sky or whatever was above me. “Nobody would save you! Even if they could!”

Those words struck a note within my core. My body quaked in the sudden realization. What if nobody can get to me? Will I rot here in this logic-fucked place? Pushing myself to my hands and knees, my stomach began to dry-heave the little bit of breath left in me, crushing my lungs against my ribs. My eyes felt like they were going to eject from my skull.

Doubt crossed its nonexistent arms and stated, “Oh, come on. You've already thrown up. It's not like you could have anymore in you.”

My face was on fire from the heaves. My body was tingling all over. My hand slid into a liquid, almost causing me to lose my balance. That must have been the source of the bile smell from before.

Then, instantly, my face was struck cold. My words became spastic and even more stuttered than usual.

“Y-y-ou know... Know what I... How do-”

“I am a facet of you. I know what you do and don't do. What you've done and will do. Where you've done it and why. I am your thought process and everything surrounding it.” Doubt's fingers began to tap its forearms in an irritated state. Suddenly, it seemed that my subconscious thoughts had changed from a formless figure into a striking human-like creature.

“Then you k-know my memory?”

“That's the general idea.”

A small glint of chance surged through my eyes.

“But!” Doubt interjected. “Things aren't as simple as they would seem to be, and I am not allowed to give you all the answers. You have to find them out for yourself. I am only here to lead you into the right direction.”

Something was strange about all this. But if it meant finding out exactly what happened, then I was willing to risk whatever I had to lose, which didn't seem like much. I stood up and turned to face Doubt in the eye. “I want to know.”

“You sure you're not comfortable with simply sitting there and staying in your comfort zone?”

“It isn't my comfort zone; I don't even know where the fuck I am!”

Doubt raised its eyebrow slightly. “Or do you?”

I looked in his direction, bewildered at the type of answer he had just delivered. I sat in silence.

“... Alrighty then,” spoke Doubt in a now firm and solid voice.

Instantly, my vision was bludgeoned with colors, every color possible, colors I'd never even seen. I tried to close my eyes, but my eyelids were welded open. I screamed from the insanity I was being put through. This technicolor nightmare repeated for such a long time, I passed out.

=====

When I awakened yet again, light filled my eyes instead of the barren darkness from before. My face was rubbing against what felt like a soft velvet. I lifted my head to look around. The setting was an almost regal living room area. The carpet and drapes were a rich dark red, appearing to glide over the walls of deep alabaster. To the side of me was a large stone hearth, stoked with a brilliant blaze of flames dancing across the scorched logs. I looked down to find myself on a couch with the same color scheme as the room. I thought of blood-covered bones.

“A-ha!”

Doubt was sitting a giant throne-like seat across from me on the other side of the fireplace. It now had a flowing beard, shiny bald head, and small, round glasses pinching towards the tip of its nose, giving a Freudian-style appearance. It wore a brown jacket with a white undershirt with black dress slacks and shoes. Doubt reached for a pipe on a small end table next to its throne. It threw the pipe in its mouth and puffed a gray pillar of smoke from its throat.

“And why did you think that?”

I slumped down on the couch, laying face-up now, staring at the white ceiling. Confused, I shrugged and placed my hands together across my chest. Twiddling my thumbs to calm my nerves, Doubt began flipping through a tiny notebook that he produced from his coat. I didn't know why he felt it necessary to have a notebook; it didn't seem practical to me that it could help me get to my life again, however it was that I had lived. I still had vertigo from the colorscape that was thrown against my sight, and this is the first time I felt good enough to think rationally, if that's what I could call it.

“So,” Doubt began. “Do you have something against my methods, then?”

I stewed for a few seconds, forgetting for a moment that he could read my mind... Well, WAS my mind. “Whatever will help me get out of here quickest.”

Doubt shrugged, stroking his facial hair, as if in deep thought. He then scrambled through the pages of his notepad and began writing furiously. All I could think was, “Damn, I really must be insane.”

My mind drifted away with the rhythmic scribbles and flipping of paper leafs, throwing me into a peculiar place. There was a great white haze over everything in my sight, but I could discern what appeared to be the silhouette of a ferris wheel. A small girl with long brown hair was running towards it, giggling. I reached my hand out to stop her, but I was out of her reach. A blistering flash of white, and I was staring down a slender, short-blond-haired bombshell. I imagined her kissing me, and another flash of white brought me back into the “reality” of Doubt's face hovering over my body.

“How did that make you feel?” he asked.

I gave him a puzzled look. “Hm? Well... I guess I felt... Lonely?”

“Abandonment?”

“Yeah.”

“That,” Doubt began, “is what we call 'emotion.' All real beings have emotion.”

I paused.

“Emotions,” he continued, “are mental states that arise spontaneously, rather than through conscious effort, and are often accompanied by physiological changes. Seeing as you have a conscience, we can deduce that your emotions are not false, therefore proving your existence in a living plane.”

“So, do you have no conscience?”

“I can only have it if you deem me worthy of it. Other than that, I'm just another facet of your psyche.”

I wasn't sure what he was trying to get at with all this mumbo jumbo of emotions and my psyche, but I kept pressing.

“What does this have to do with me finding out more about myself?”

“Do you like ice cream?” Doubt interjected, instantly derailing the question asked.

“... Huh?”

“Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Umm, I don't know?”

Doubt rest his back into the chair. “You're indecisive. If there were a time you had to make a drastic choice, what would you do? Panic? Or would you be able to keep your poise and maintain the situation? What if I told you the decision of your favorite ice cream carried the burden of saving your world if answered correctly?”

“But I-”

“Don't over complicate things here. We just need an answer.”

At that moment, my brain started pounding itself against my skull. I wasn't sure exactly why this was affecting me so much. “Why can't there be both?”

“Are you suggesting things aren't black and white? Or chocolate and vanilla?”

“What about a gray area?”

“... Gray areas are a problem for everyone, even if they're a convenience for you. Controversy arises, and people blame it on the gray areas. If you wish to stay where you're comfortable, then be my guest. But it's not going to get you closer to who you are in the end... Or will it?”

I sat up. “Enough with this cryptic shit!” My hands threw themselves on the cold stone sides of the couch. “What is really going on?!”

“Ah. Rage.” Doubt sat up and began to squirm out of his seat. “Now there's some firepower for your body. A fury of intense anger, violent excitement, eager passion. Many things can be said about rage, but you have to feel it to understand.” He stood up and approached my face. “Does your rage tell you to do things? Tell you to hit me? Kick my ass? Bloody me up? Maybe even kill me?!”

I was boiling. He isn't helping me at all! What gave him the right to lead me over with empty promises of prosperity that lead into a long trail of nothing? My fist began to clench, tightening every passing of the second.

Doubt smirked. “... Your desperation, of course.”

Before I could blink, my fist swung. Contact with his cheek to my right hand sent reverberations through my arm as his figure sailed back. He landed on the ground and slid into his luxurious chair, knocking it to the ground and cracking the leg of the stone framework. I stood above his body as he coughed, spitting out a tooth cascaded by blood. I fell to my knees over his shocked body, his midsection up being extremely vulnerable to another flurry of fists.

He coughed a few more times and began to speak. “You... Haven't realized yet... Have you?” Another cough. Another blood splatter. Another fist connection. This time, I landed a blow in the ribcage of his left side. He screamed for a moment in pain.

“WHAT DON'T I GET?” I shouted as he moaned in agony. For some reason, my adrenaline was rushing at such a high speed, I couldn't even notice the smile forming at the corner of my mouth.

Doubt coughed again and gave another smirk. “You'll find... out soon enough.”

A full-blown madman grin took over my face as my fists began almost moving on their own, orchestrating themselves into playing the symphony of cracking bones. Waves of crimson graced the air as I pushed my clutched hands into his body and pulled away from the corpse.

After a few minutes, my knuckles became stained and bruised. My arms fell limply to my side, exhausted. I fell over on my side, beginning to laugh maniacally. As I became breathless, tears started forming at the corners of my eyes. My sobs began to fill the now seemingly empty room.

Suddenly, a familiar voice entered the room. “You still don't get it?”

I jumped, my eyes darting across the room. There was nobody else there except me and a dead body. I slowly looked down at the bloody pulp of a corpse I made. The head was just a wreck. Brain matter was scattered amongst bits of bone and skin. His right eye was five feet away from the other. His jaw was disconnected from his head. “Surely that wasn't him,” I thought. Then, his arm flew up and squeezed my arm. I screamed in fear and yanked my arm back, but the hand's grip was too strong. Looking at his face's remnants, the good eyeball began to focus on me. My blood ran cold. Doubt was calling me from the grave?

“Well, you've killed your Doubt. Now all you have left is to accept.”

My vision became white again. That's when things began to click. Gears started turning in my mind. All the pieces were starting to fit together. I began to realize that the questions and things that Doubt was doing that I thought were useless and time consuming... They were actually parts of me.

“... So this is me?” I asked.

“Yes, this is your nature. Your natural self.”

“But why? Why go through all this trouble.”

“Like I said. I can't give you every answer. If I told you, it would have been just another moment in your time when you acknowledge the truth for only a small time and then go back to living in your life of Doubt.”

“... God, I'm so fucked up.”

After the worlds escaped my thoughts, more images of the small girl flooded my vision. Then the ferris wheel again. The girl was running closer and closer. I began chasing her, trying to run faster and faster, but I didn't know for sure why.

When we finally approached the wheel, another figure stood at the entrance, concealed in the shadow of the amusement ride. My sprint turned into an awkward stand-still moment as the girl ran toward the hidden character. Arms outstretched, I called her by her name. Such a beautiful name that I had chosen. But the girl disregarded my cry and leaped into the arms of the figure. It stepped out of the shadows, revealing the face of the blond-haired woman. A solemn glare covered her face. The same face was worn by the girl. I stood in total silence, and another flash of white matted over my eyes.

=====

Two nurses walked briskly down a cold stone corridor, gossiping away at the latest news of celebrities and their own affairs, seemingly unaware of the world around them. They passed many doors throughout the hall, but one of the nurses paused mid-conversation to stare at a peculiar door.

The first nurse stopped a few steps after, realizing her friend had been caught up in other business. She spoke, “Jenny, what's wrong?”

The second nurse acknowledged her, but still peered at the door. “I don't know. I just got a cold chill walking by here. Angie, who's in here?”

The first nurse paced next to Jenny and peered at the door for a few seconds. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “That's just the new guy. He's in here for manslaughter. He killed his wife and kid one night out of the blue.”

Jenny received her mouth to her hands and let out a slight gasp. “Oh my. That's horrible!”

Angie shrugged. “Well, you're still fairly new to this whole thing, but you'll get used to nutjobs like this.” She adjusted her uniform. “It's the same-old sob story. Man doesn't do what his family needs him to. Maybe he couldn't decide on their future, maybe money? Wife wants to leave, divorce, and take kid. Man just snaps. I heard he killed his lady as the daughter was watching. And as he tried to reach out and console her, she ran. The guy chased her down and... Poor girl.”

Jenny stood in silence.

Angie continued. “Yeah, looks like another rotter to me. I wouldn't dwell too much on it. I used to be like that, and it just got me nowhere.”

Jenny glanced over. “Hm?”

“Worrying about other people's problems and ordeals. Only do it if it concerns or benefits you, right?”

Jenny turned back to the door and nodded. “... Sure.”

“Now!” Angie began as she strode forward. Jenny followed slightly in her footsteps. “Did you watch that new episode of...”

… Their conversation slowly slid away from my hearing range. As I sat in my padded cell, I noticed a small droplet falling down my cheek and into the corner of my smile.

“I get it,” I whispered to myself. “I finally get it.”

I laughed heartily that night. I was served stew for dinner. It wasn't bad.
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Old 06-16-2009, 05:20 AM   #33
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Quote:
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Has it been two weeks yet?
No, but we can all put our System Clocks ahead two weeks and just say it has been.

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Old 06-16-2009, 05:27 AM   #34
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But we're getting a surprising amount of entries this time. I'd like to see how many we get before the two weeks are up.

Its only until next Thursday anyway, guys.
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Old 06-17-2009, 12:06 PM   #35
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It is the distant future in the year 1990, the evil Funkotrons have gained control of the world. They have oppressed all and banned evey other type music. But, a new group of warriors of music have risen, they were the Alternative Soldiers. They're plan was to destroy the Mother Funkotron. Then all Funkotrons would die. So, they held an underground music festival which attracted many fellow fighters including Sam Fisher, Solid Snake, Mega Man, Jesus, Han Solo and his Millenium Falcon, Gordon Freeman, and Mike Tyson. The war was about to begin. The battle started with a mad dash to the Funkotron base. But, they were more than well equipped. Son the Funkotrons transformed into Transformers, Metal Gears and Gundams. But Solid Snake picked up his rocket lawn chair and flew on to the metal gear and took control of it. The Gundams attempted an air strike but Han blasted them. As Snake destroyed all the Metal Gears and Han blasted Gundams, Tyson punched the Transformers to pieces. Mean while, Sam, Jesus, Mega Man and Gordon snuck into the base. Mega Man made a mad dash blasting all the Funkotrons while Jesus, Sam and Gordon crawled through air vents. When they came out there was only one door to the Mother Funkotron. But, it was guarded by Chuck Norris. They were doomed, but Jesus thought fast, he brought back King Kong and Bruce Lee back to life and fused them. This Giant Monkey Bruce Lee beat Chuck til he was nothing but blood and human waste. Then he had a heart attack and fell off the Empire State building. They blasted in and saw the Mother Funkotron was Hitler with mechanical arms like Dr. Octopus and was riding a dragon. So Sam snuck behind him and hit him but got burned alive. Jesus's curfew was up and he had to go home. So Gordon got out his Awesome Cannon and fired at Hitler. The shear awesomeness made his head implode and his testicles inflate carrying him into the sun. All the Funkotrons exploded and the world was saved. So the entire Earth took a vacation to Tahiti and partied for seventeen years. But in these a years, a new oppresser came, it was Disney...........
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Old 06-19-2009, 12:17 PM   #36
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wat
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gonna start a corpse party all up in this bitch
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Old 06-22-2009, 09:06 PM   #37
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Working on possibly entering this, I haven't written in a long while so I may be a bit rusty but this will be good practice. If I don't finish by Thursday I'll just post what I have.
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Old 06-25-2009, 03:24 PM   #38
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So I am just now finding out we do writing contests here to.

I suppose I'd best wait for the next contest, than.
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Old 06-25-2009, 03:33 PM   #39
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There once was a happy Sausage named frank and he lived happily ever after.

The end.

Oh and he went nuts and killed Timmy Bacon.

XDDDD
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Old 06-25-2009, 06:23 PM   #40
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Shit, I got 2 hours left to finish...
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Old 06-25-2009, 08:03 PM   #41
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Ok, well it was difficult sense so many different entries had a different but good feel to them.

I'm gonna have to give this to reborn though. Nice job to all who submitted, enjoyed them all.
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Old 06-25-2009, 09:34 PM   #42
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I know it's over, but my entry in progress:
A rat lay open on the table, guts on display. It was clamped down on the table, still alive. Its tiny heart beat rapidly with fear. The professor removed it with utmost precision. Blood started oozing out.
“Now, the only organ this process does not work on is the brain” he said. I scribbled down some notes in my pad. “However, even with that limitation, this can do some tremendous good.” I took a picture with my camera.
Before my very eyes, the rat’s heart started to regrow. It seemed like the arteries grew then formed together. “I don’t believe this!” I said. “This will make a great story! Thanks, Professor West!” I took another picture.
“Yes, this is quite remarkable. In fact, even more interesting is that a minute amount of blood can cause the gene to transfer.” He stitched up the rat and smiled proudly. The rat crawled again, as if nothing had happened. It stumbled a little, and moved much more slowly than before. “Well, the little bugger was cut open.”
“Any chances of this working on a human?”
“Testing may start sooner than you think…”
“When?”
“Now.” I was all ready to run to the exit, when he opened another door, revealing a man living a spartan dormitory. He was very thin, and a lot of scruff on his face. He looked at peace, sitting on his bed, reading a book.
“You see, Fred here was homeless man until he volunteered to help with my experiment. Figured he had nothing else to lose, yeah?”
“How long has he been here?”
“About a week” Fred said. “Best week of my life so far!”
“Are you ready for the test now?” Professor Smith asked.
“Sure am.”
“Good, good.” I took another picture. “I’d appreciate it if you took no more pictures.” He withdrew a needle and a vial, and injected its contents into Fred. He winced a bit, but after, he rubbed his neck and laughed.
“I’m gonna be fine, right?”
“Hopefully. Don’t worry, though. We’ll start minor. You still have your appendix, right?”
“Yeah, one of the only things I’ve managed not to lose”
“Good. Good. We’ll I’m off to yet another lecture right now.” He closed the door behind him. I heard Fred say goodbye just as the door slammed shut.
[TO BE FLESHED OUT]
The next day, I returned to Professor Smith’s lab to find Fred on the table. His wrists and ankles were clamped down. Fred just sat there without a tear in his eye.
Professor Smith came in wearing a lab coat and very thick gloves. “Well, let’s get started then, shall we?” He put Fred under with anesthetic. Fred turned his head and looked me right in the eyes just as he slipped into unconsciousness. I didn’t say anything.
Smith made an incision and got to work. He opened it up a bit to show me. When he wasn’t looking, I snuck a picture.
“This is so awesome.” I whispered.
“Yeah, isn’t it?” He put the appendix on the table and just stood there, arms crossed. “Now for the really awesome part.”
Within minutes, the hole in the cecum, the pouch that connects the small and large intensities, where the appendix is located, started to close up. The covering drooped lower to form a small pouch.
“And that, my boy, is his new appendix”
“Wow”
“What do you say we take this one step further?” Smith removed Fred’s liver. Normally the liver looks like a raw chicken breast, smooth and pink. However, Fred must have been one of “those” bums, since it was a brown, rough mess. Smith took it out, and again, a new liver reformed. The points at which the incisions were made turned from brown to pink, and tissue began to reform.
“It cured his liver!”
“My God.”
Smith stitched Fred up. “He’ll come to in a few minutes.”
I sat around and thought for a while. I wanted to ask Smith some questions, but with shit this big, I was afraid of the answer. “So…why?”
“Why not? Disease and cancer would be a trillion times easier and safer to cure.”
“How do you see benefiting from this?”
“Hell, do you know how much they work me here? They’ve got me all these classes doing lectures for students who could care less, doing research for the University’s sake, and all this other administrative bullshit I have to cut through, all for a meager salary. I’m gonna sell it off to the highest bidder.”
“Wow. You guys put up with a lot, huh?”
“You know this project represents weeks and weeks of all-nighters? I can’t do much work during the day, so I work at night. But if Fred here wakes up, and he’s all right, then I know all my work was worth it.”
Fred woke up. He was groggy, but other than that, he was all right. Professor Smith laughed and dashed over to the table. “Easy now, easy. Can you speak?”
Fred smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Did it work?”
“Like a charm, old boy, like a charm!” He looked right at me, tears swelling up in his eyes, and said “I bet this will make great story for your paper, eh?”
“Great, great!” Fred managed to smile. He had a good smile.
However, his eyes rolled back into his head, and his gums started bleeding.
“God, he’s going through convulsions! Go get help!”
I ran out as fast as I can, dialing 911 on my cell phone as I dashed through the halls. Luckily, campus paramedics were on the scene a couple minutes later.
“We got your call. Where’s the problem?” I lead them to Professor Smith’s lab. Unfortunately, neither of them were there.
“We need to find them!”
“I’ll search the east wing, you guys take west!”
We dashed off, and my trepidation growing. I had no stake in the matter, but I figured I’d see this story through to the end. I saw a woman on the floor in pain, rubbing her neck.
“Oh my god! What happened?”
“Some guy bit me!”
“Who?”
“I don’t remember too well. He had a beard, kinda thin and pale…”
Fred…
I got out my phone and called the paramedics over. I ran into the main hallway and tried to call them over. Unfortunately, she was gone by the time I turned around. The paramedics gave me a condescending glare. “Listen, sir. Is there anyone here who needs medical attention? Otherwise, you’re wasting our time.”
“I swear to God, stuff is going down. Everything is just moving so fast I-“
“Call us when you have a real emergency” They left, slamming the door behind them.
There’s something going on, and my deadline’s tomorrow.
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Old 06-27-2009, 11:43 PM   #43
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2-3 days later, I won! Huzzah! On to next theme I suppose!
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Old 06-27-2009, 11:46 PM   #44
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Default Writing Contest 4 ~ Trapped on a Island

For this theme, I want you to write a short story on a bunch of survivors trapped on a island. I want you to describe how they got there, how they are surviving, and who (if any) survived and escaped off the island. The timer will be a week and start whenever the first entry is made. Good luck and happy writing
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Old 06-28-2009, 12:00 AM   #45
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All I can think of is a heavy metal Gilligan's Isle, but I don't want to do that.
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Old 06-28-2009, 02:36 PM   #46
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I'll need to think up of some crazy way of how they got there, boats and planes are so 2008
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Old 07-02-2009, 02:20 PM   #47
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The following is a true story told to me by my imaginary friend, Candy.


Arnold & Candy

Candy, as her folks called her, was a magician. Perhaps it would be of some importance to inform you that she actually can wield magic, and she’s quite boss at it. Candy always dreamed of two things; pulling a jackalope out of her hat, and putting as much distance between herself and her parents as possible. Growing up, Candy was always in a constant feud with them. Upon entering middle school Candy figured she could rebel by signing all of her papers C.A.N.D.I.E.

Candy’s mother was not magically gifted, only her father was. While Candy’s mom found her husband’s magic to be charming, she could only resent and envy the gift her daughter was born with. Craving a normal child, Candy’s mom adopted a young ginger boy by the name of Arnold. Arnold was seventeen and had lost his mom in a car crash one year earlier; he had no known relatives to live with. After jumping from one foster home to the next, Arnold was excited to find a mother that seamed so loving.

Candy, being the rebel that she was, set her eyes on this boy as a target of her affection. At the age of eighteen she finally decided she was going to leave her parents and she would be taking this boy with her! This came as a surprise to Arnold, who woke up in a bed unfamiliar to him with no previous knowledge that Candy had planned to whisk him away in the middle of the night.

An island, not unknown, but gloriously uninhabited; this was the place Candy had always wanted to go. She never expected she’d be bringing a boy along with her, though. Seven months would pass, and the two would grow resentful of each other.

Candy had figured that the island could produce enough food to support her if she was careful not to indulge herself. The land of the island was fertile, and produced delicious fruits at a quick rate. However, having a second mouth to feed (a particularly hungry one, too) meant the food supply was depleting faster than it was regenerating.

On one particularly spiteful evening, the couple who had managed to stay their tongues had reached an end to their peace. After hours of searching Arnold had found a new piece or fruit and promptly ate it himself.

“All I’m saying,” Candy ranted with a twitch in her eye “is that I can teleport us off this island if you just let me have something to eat.”

“What sense does that make?” Arnold inquired.

“I need energy to cast spells. I need food to have energy.”

“No, you’re just hungry.” Arnold said in a snobbish way. “You forced me to come to this island and now you’d see me starve!”

“STARVE! HAH!” Candy snapped. “You’ve eaten the last four fruits we’ve found! It’s been almost a week since I last ate!”

“I still don’t understand why you even brought me here in the first place.”


“You’re a heavy sleeper and I’m a somnophile. I thought we’d get along.” Candy said with a sigh. She plopped to the ground putting her back against a tree. She looked up at the sky and wondered if she would be any happier back home.

“Don’t you have any powers left?” Arnold asked.

“No, because I don’t have any energy to use” She replied.

“Couldn’t you just draw in energy from around you?”

“No.”

“How come?”


“Because, what you’re asking is just made up fantasy schlock.” Candy said. She sounded offended.

“You’re a terrible witch.” Arnold said with a grin.

“Wizard.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m called a wizard. The term “Witch” is just a made up word you parmacs created.”
She explained.

“What’s a parmac?”

“A hume that cannot use magic.”

“You mean a muggle?”

“No, I mean a parmac.”
Candy’s voice began to shake. “Just like the term witch doesn’t exist. Just like how zombies can’t move on their own, they need a wizard.” Candy’s voice cracked, her chapped lips began to bleed. “Oh, and for the love of god, they’re called vampyres, not vampires.” She began to cry, the hunger was too much. She missed her home, she missed her parents, and she wanted her magic so she could see them again.

Arnold felt bad for her. He knew he should have given her the fruit, but he was too cowardly to admit that. If only he could think of something to do. He plucked the second fruit off the vine and took a bite as he entered into deep concentration. He needed to find Candy food, and he needed to find it fast. He took a second bite out of the fruit, thinking maybe there would be more fruit on the big tree near their base camp. As he spit a seed from his mouth he felt a hardened fist collide with his left ear.

With Arnold passed out on the floor, Candy took the fruit into her hands and began to feast upon its sour taste. Once she felt rejuvenated, she teleported off the island. Of course, she had trouble coming up with a story for her parents (something about a deranged foster child kidnapping her or whatever), but that didn’t seam to matter. They where thrilled that their daughter had returned, even her mother! Her mother was happy to see her! Everybody lived happily from then on! (Except for Arnold, who rotted to death on the island and his dead body was raped endlessly by all the island’s animal inhabitants.)

The end.
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Old 07-08-2009, 10:51 PM   #48
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There was a meteor shower that night.

Connie stared. Specks of comet dust trailing through the atmosphere. It was December. Geminids. They were gorgeous. She hated them.

Paul, Ruby, Terry, and Josh were all around the campfire, the only source of light on the tiny island. Aside from that, there was nothing to pollute the starlight. She knew everyone else was staring at the campfire. No one liked to look at the sky anymore.

It had been tiny, the meteor that had hit them. It had looked no bigger than her fist when she saw it, but it must have been bigger. Must have been, because it knocked the shuttle off course enough that the six of them had crashlanded in the ocean. Into a storm, no less. It must have hit some of their communications equipment, too, because NASA could do nothing to help them. It was a disaster. A total loss. Or so everyone would think.

Nevaeh had sunk with the shuttle. The rest of them had clawed their way onto the beach.

There was nothing to salvage. Even the jumpsuits on their backs were in tatters. A spacesuit's helmet washed up on shore, once. Nothing else came.

The island was barely that. It was a shallow spot in the ocean, presumably where a volcano had once been. Enough stone had washed away that at high tide there was barely a dry patch on the entire place.

All they had to eat was fish and whatever washed up. Not much did. By the second full moon since they had arrived, they realized that if rescue didn't arrive soon they would all waste away.

Both Josh and Terry had to be watched constantly. Josh had tried to hold his head underwater one morning. Terry had begged Ruby to strangle him. Paul had declared that no one was going to die so long as he was around, because they were all going to get off of this fucking island. But that was at least a dozen days ago.

Ruby walked up to Connie, startling her when she began to speak. "Come sit with us," she said. "It's no use staring at that damned meteor shower, okay? Just..." Her Brooklyn accent trailed off.

Connie nodded, staggering towards the rest of the group. The seaweed fire hissed, and one fish sizzled, but the group was quiet. They were all trying to ignore the meteors in the sky. They split the fish, except for Connie, who said that the hunger would keep her awake as she tended the fire. They kept it burning at night in case anything with other humans came along. Everyone else went to sleep.

Terry was shaken awake in the middle of the night. "Wake up Josh," Connie whispered. He did so, shushing the man as he sat up, startled. "I can't take this any more. I don't want to wait to starve to death. Let's end it now."

She strangled them both to death at their request, then ripped a piece of tattered jumpsuit off and tied it tight around her own neck.

The other two had a difficult time deciding whether or not to eat their fallen coworkers in the morning. But food is food, after all.

Paul and Ruby were the only ones left. It was two more full moons before Paul didn't wake up one morning. Ruby was the only one who hadn't wasted away when our ship picked her up. We had been thrown off course by a storm, and nearly ran ashore. She cried for hours on board.

This is all we gathered from what she could tell us. Poor thing can barely stand to look at the sky now. A real shame.
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Old 07-08-2009, 10:58 PM   #49
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That was really good. Nice job on describing the island.
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Old 07-21-2009, 05:34 PM   #50
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:F
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Old 08-11-2009, 09:26 PM   #51
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REBORN
PICK A WINNER
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Old 08-11-2009, 09:44 PM   #52
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Just make a new contest. If the deadline isn't met he loses the right to it.
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Old 08-11-2009, 10:11 PM   #53
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Default Writing Contest 5 - Waiter!

Waiter! There's a _____ in my soup!


(What's the most creative thing you can put in someones soup? What happens this contamination is noticed? Contest ends a week after the first story is entered. PS Reborn smells.)
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Old 08-12-2009, 01:47 PM   #54
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"Waiter, what the hell is this?" I pointed at my bowl and gave the waiter my best angry customer look. It must have worked, since he leaned over to take a closer look at it, as if that would somehow help him divine some kind of hidden information about my soup.

"That would be the soup du jour, sir," he stammered out in his politest voice.

"Dammit, I know what it is. I want to know what the hell is in it." I paid fifteen dollars for this appetizer. No way in hell was I going to let this shenanigan ruin my dining experience.

"Perhaps you should take this up with the head chef sir?"

"Well go get him," I yelled in response. As the waiter hurried off in his uniform that was probably worth more than my paycheck, I huffed in frustration and shoved my face into my hands. I felt my wife's hand on my arms, as if to tell me to calm down, but I shrugged them off. It's not often that I get the chance to raise a fit, so I was damn well going to take advantage of the situation while I had it.

While I sat at my table, huffing and puffing in order to keep my sense of anger inflated, I heard a ruckus emanating from the kitchen. One voice rose above the din, coarse as gravel and packing a punch like Mike Tyson. In my head, I couldn't really figure out who was yelling at whom, but I was trying to to smile at the fact that at least somebody was catching hell for this excuse of a soup. The yelling and shouting grew louder until the double doors to the kitchen burst open before the force of the head chef's heel. In his white uniform, stained with various foodstuffs, he tromped over to my table.

His dark skin stood out against his clothes. I could feel his energy vibrating out from his figure with every step he took. His hat carelessly fell to the floor, revealing the the cornrows on his head. When he had finally made his way to my table, he leaned over, inspected my bowl of soup, and looked me dead in the eye, his face dead as stone. I tried to say something, but his overbearing presence stopped any words before they could escape my mouth. His eyes began to squint as his lips pulled back into a wide grin, as he gave me his explanation.

"Yo dawg, I heard you like soup. So I put a bowl of soup in your bowl of soup, so you can sip while you sip."

When I paid the bill, I made sure to give the head chef my regards.
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Old 08-17-2009, 10:22 PM   #55
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I love you sto
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Old 08-18-2009, 01:04 AM   #56
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His entry was so good I scrapped mine.
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Old 08-19-2009, 02:04 PM   #57
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Alright then, it's been a week. Sto is our winner for Soup in Soup. Huzzah!
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Old 08-20-2009, 06:32 AM   #58
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Default Writing Contest 6: Educational

For this writing contest, your challenge is to write something that will educate its reader. Pick a topic on which you have a decent amount of knowledge and teach us about it. The catch is that your topic must be non-fictional. Don't go telling me about the life cycles and ecology of unicorns, because unicorns don't exist and chances are you just made that shit up. What you can write about is the mythology and culture of unicorns, because that is something that's real.

Don't expect your entry to do well if you go about using nomenclature without explaining it, or otherwise making your entry confusing to an uninformed reader. Bonus points if you cite sources that aren't Wikipedia.

Contest closes a week after the first entry.
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Old 08-20-2009, 07:59 AM   #59
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You motherfuckers are getting a stage blocking lesson.

First off, what is stage blocking? Blocking is similar to choreography, in that it states who or what is where at specific times. The difference is that chereogaphy is when specific movements are occuring, such as a dance number while blocking is the positioning of set pieces(such as a table and chair) and more importantly, actors. The goal of blocking is to keep the audiences' focus on the action, by placing actors in places where the audience will be able to view it best. This is why monologues are commonly delivered center stage, out towards the audience. Bad blocking will have actors not facing the audience when delivering a line (turning away from the audience can be used as a dramatic effect, but it's best to think of facing the audience as mandatory for line delivery), or having anything on the stage block the audience's line of sight from the actor, hence the name.

Some very basic blocking terminology are the stage directions. These are used to accurately state where something is, or where the director wants it. If you're viewing the stage from the audience, the part of the stage closest to you is "downstage". The farthest point is "upstage". What the house(audience) sees as the left side of the stage is "stage right". The audience's right side therefore, is "stage left". The area between stage right and stage left is "centre." If you are ever going to be involved in blocking a preformance of any kind, these are the common directions that apply to all of them, be it a rock show, opera or presentation.

Now for some examples of proper blocking.

If there are no set pieces, and two actors are conversing, a director would usually have them be downstage centre, with the actor's bodies facing each other, slightly angled so they're also partly facing the audience. You always want your actors to be partly facing the audience when they are supposed to be facing something across from them, because if one was angled directly at the point of interest, half of the audience would be seeing the actor's back. It's important to remember in blocking that the viewpoint of the audience is shaped like a cone(in a normal theatre, where the audience is only at the end of the stage).

Pieces of set that are part of the background (or backdrop), would obviously be placed as far upstage as the situation would allow. For a backdrop that spans the entire stage, it's best not to have it perfectly flat, but have it curved into a "c" shape to compensate for the audience's cone of vision.

If an actor is delivering a line, and another actor is positioned farther downstage, any movement from them at all will always distract the audience, even if they're not directly in front of the actor delivering the line. Always. This is called "upstaging". The most common way of preventing upstaging is to have the delivering actor move downstage while delivering a line, putting them closer to the audience than everyone else.

Good blocking can make or break a preformance. If the blocking hasn't been practiced, upstaging and mispositioning will shit all over everything. At worst, bad blocking will make the audience lose interest in the preformance, making your life shitty. Good blocking keeps the audience right where director wants them.

Boring? Fuck yes. But if you ever do anything on a stage, it's good to know.
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Old 08-29-2009, 06:56 PM   #60
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Yo Grieves, make a thread.
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