Writing Stories

Easily the best sticky we've had.

"Ever told her? A cat in a tree once said to me: "ever told her" and I said, "I never even knew her" and he said, "but you did turn her into manure" and I shook my head; "nah, I made love to her." Oh, so that's how it is, Manuel's jealous, even though he loves the fellas. Challises filled with p sit the most tidily, why lie to me? On the inside of me my heart sat down on my ribs before along came the marine and I was gibbed."

8)

I wonder if Blairney's read it yet.kingkilla3

Of course not. He's always either too drunk or too confused (sober) to be able to read something longer than two words!

I've written, but I just don't want to post excerpts when it's constantly being edited. I haveto compose a three page short story, so maybe I'll post that on Thursday or so.Zeromus1337

Would love to read it!

Excerpts are fun.

I knew that it was not longer than a few hours before I would reach Yuellah by walking, so I picked up my feet from the paved path and shot forwards. A few hours became a couple of hours as I threw myself in the town's way, leaves twirling in my wake, forest dwellers yelling at me to quieten myself.

And so there I sat on a park bench in a park on the outer edge of the town. Just a short rest was needed and then I could find the queen, who was bound to be in the area. It was unlike another town to be constantly fragranced like this one. It lent great ambience in a line twixt itself and the semi-rhythmic dinging of the houses' bells.

One bell was visible to me now as I waited outside the oaken door of the Parlischias Hotel, a distinctly blue and red, safe and comfortable, imposing series of buildings; patterns imbued in foreign dye were inviting upon its doorarch. I let chime forth the bell and a tuxedoed man let swing back the door and I was welcomed in.

The main hall was warm with a garnished-with-mystery air. The walls were shrewdly windowed to make separate nations' emblems combine into one, though I had the feeling it wasn't deliberately designed as such, but instead tampered with.

I loved that excerpt, would love to read more. How far are you into that?

Here's an excerpt on something I'm currently working on. More specifically, it's a chapter, one I just finished.

XIV

Where... am I? My eyes finally opened, albeit in such a tepid fashion that it must have lasted an ill gotten eternity. Am... I finally dead? Her words were like a blade through my streak, so much in ultimate affliction that I had been decimated by mere morphemes alone.Poetic justice. There was a blank void before me, my mind going a-blank. I tried to move, but I could do nothing but witness inevitability. I can't move. "Become one with me!" her metallic voice had rumbled. I tried to silence the words, but I had quickly forgotten that I couldn't place my hands over my ears. My hands, my entire frame, my own will with a lack of autonomy; it was all in vain. "Abandon all hope. Submit to the thread of destiny" her shrewd diction had annotated. Her voice, no matter how much I despised it; her beauty, her radiance, she must have been of the beatitudes, but her tone had been Luciferian. I had originally mistaken her to be of the Seraphim, but she was a messenger of death, but for me.

My death, mine alone. She had come to undo any and all discretion on my part. Destiny she called it. I wanted it to end. I can't take this anymore. For all I knew, I could have been experiencing an out-of-body experience. However, the euphoric fright in experiencing such is that one knew it wasn't real. I would always wake up from a dream long remembered. One need only beat the sands of time, watch the sand quickly sift to the bottom before the nightmarish charade finally took its bow; the performance finally having ended. But that was not so. I couldn't get up, not on my own accord. I'm... I'm not dreaming.

This... it has to be dream. It must be. I still tried to deny fate, fate had been what she had called it. Denying always made life easier. If I even had one at this point. I still remember her voice, that demoniac chill still running throughout, my very essence of being now compounded beyond all comprehensibility. "What you desire is not palpable. Everything you've told yourself, Everything you've made yourself out to be; You, and everything You've lived is nothing more than an ill-gotten figment of a delusion having gone far longer than expected" her metallic, torpid inflection thundered like a train that kept a-running. Even now, the walls of this damnable prison still boomed her murmur. Her voice. How could such cruel designation be from within her? That radiant, blue hair of the arctic, those carmine pupils enamoring me before all envision of her took its bow. It echoed once more. I'm a fraud.

A mere pawn on the chess board that had been engineered, all movement predicted, for what could have been the beginning of all frame of time as I knew. Mine anyway. "You are like me. But you are not like me. I have no name, a blank slate with nothing to ever be inscribed; I am the orifice that need be fulfilled by a name. An identity". Yes, now I remember. That's when she extended her hand, her pupils dilated and I saw the spiral, the eye of the tornado, and all free will subject to its ultimate tenacity.It pulled me in, I could do nothing as I witness all . My life froze before my very eyes; all essence shattered.Then I woke up. As reminiscence of a prior moment ended, momentum commenced.

I loved that excerpt, would love to read more. How far are you into that?

Zeromus1337

I've got around 2,500 words so far, but about 200 are a prologue that has nothing to do with the main story. I'll probably delete that part (with a back up though). It's supposed to be a short story, so I'll see if I can finish it. I'm trying to develop my own writing style too. I make up words that I think should exist (such as 'mockcrown' and 'whiches'), use archaic grammar and try to give character to the writing itself (especially the adjectives).

Here's the full thing.

If it doesn't work, here's another excerpt:

I gathered my most important belongings from my richly-ornate-for-a-cliffside-cave cliffside cave and headed off. I slid down what was slide available of the cliffside, in force wrestled hold of the rope tethered to the lower side, then–why not?–hopped down onto the voluminous tree party below.

The birds of numerous, colourful and physically varied kinds sang in harmony as though they were readying themselves for a night of drunkenness, bar brawls and dark chocolatey orchestrations. I landed in a crash of fanfare, as so my free fall through once more strengthened winds had been. Scathed not I arose to my feet and carried myself on my way along the naturally formed path not far along.