Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

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I'm not sure how much of Thompson's work you've read but the story seems inspired by gonzo. Your structure tries to invoke a sense of motion and imagery, but as far as any unifying factors, I can't see any. The story is very thin and passes by too quickly to make any sort of impression. It does, however, have a very poetic nature. If you worked toward infusing more prosodic elements, this would make a pretty decent poem. What impressed me the most, I think is the circular structure used. I'm not used to seeing new faces able to use that type of technique without losing the reader.
Point being, you need to choose which side of the fence you're on and shape your approach to fit it.

Yeah, the character was inspired by Gonzo.

The story was really, really rushed. I'm currently working on another one with the same characters, The Lady In Red.

I may be a new face, but this isn't the first thing I write. Horror is rather new for me, though.

There's a lot of grammatical errors here and there and "lotsa" is not a word. It was slightly interesting, but I felt the story was cut too short.
What I *did* really like about the story however, was how you put the ending at the very beginning, but how at the start it seems like just some poetic jargon, but is actually a perfectly reasonable ending to the story. I felt that was well played. But aside from that, you need to work on your main story telling more.

Lotsa is lotsa used in the States. I know it's not a word, but hey, realism first.

Glad you noticed. I planned to have more "reverse flashbacks" in the story, but, well, it was cutted down to about 1/20 of the original size.

My first concern with this one are the numerous grammar and spelling errors. I'm not sure if that was intentional or just poor editing. The poem at the beginning is somewhat confusing and I'm not sure if it's related to the last line of the story. In any case there really isn't a strong plot here. So much happens and many details are given that seem to have little importance to the story as a whole. If you're gonna go for something really short, you have to make everything count. I did find the main character's sense of humor somewhat entertaining though.

These type of errors are, like, the bane of my (writing) existence. Despite getting good grades and talking in perfect english, I still manage to make lots of typos while writing novels/ stories.

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I'm doing this too. Writing a story about a British gentleman that gets teleported into our times. Satirical/ humoristic thing.

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This is one big stereotype. Seriously.

The teenage boy that must learn how to control his powers, become a man, and stop the bad guys, his lover that doesn't knows his secret, the bad guy that wants to control the world, the old master that dies and the hero will avenge...
In the end the boy will defeat Flood, become the High Mage, and live with the girl happily ever after? Or maybe one of them will die? Or maybe he will become a god?

If you have lame english, publish this in your language somewhere or roll up your sleeves and learn some. That's how I started.

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At 11/1/12 12:30 PM, RapeMuffin wrote: I am just awful at thinking up titles, so I will leave my story untitled (unless someone here can think of an appropriate title?).

What about "Pain Of The Living, Delight Of The Death"? Or something simple like "Infection"?

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I'l try to give some reviews soon. For now, the story that I liked more was Starwarsjunkie's ( I can call you SWJ, right?) one. While not being particularly original, it was definitely the most well written.

Don't talk about procrastination. I actually had a much longer plotline for my story, how the man lived that much, why Tommy was alive at the end, why he was burning, what the Klan was up to...
Ah well. I'l try to make something better next year. I'l surely keep the characters though.

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Long live the Klan!

Words. Spirits. Deafening. Scathening. So empty. So full.

My flesh is burning. Air is fleeing. My skin is falling. Pain is all around me. I feel cold.

Am I going mad?
Am I going mad?

The circle is becoming full. The pale ghosts are coming close. Still dancing. Still shouting.

I want to flee. My hands and feet are nailed.
I want to shout. There isn't air in my mouth.

One holds something. Why is it shining? Why is he smiling? Why am I caring?

It comes. Oil covers me.
It comes. Fire, ever-hungry beast.

I retreat, alone, in the safe haven of my mind.

Memories, all that remains.
Memories, where pain is not.
.
.
.
Driiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin!
.
.
.
I take my legs out of the desk and try to pull myself together.

Maybe it's a millionaire. Maybe it's that Brazilian moneybags. Maybe...
.
.
A shaggy old man enters in the office.
.
.
Yeah, sure...
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"Mister Thomas McDusk?" says the man. Looks like he smoked 40 packs of cigars.
.
"At your service, mister...?" I ask.
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"Forrest. Nathan Bedford Forrest."
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He stopped. Like expecting me to laugh in his face.
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"You...you don't know me?"
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I raise an eyebrow.
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"Oh, what do they teach at school today?"
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"Nathan Bedford Forrest, former Liutenant General of the Confederate Army."
.

What the hell? I just met a madman?

"War has ended quite a while ago, y'know..." I blabbered.

.
"That's why I said former."

.
"I know I might sound crazy, but believe it or not, I am a hundred and ninety-one years old."

.
I don't know if I should laugh, call the police, or throw the man out of my office.

.
"You're a detective, right? I want to hire you."

"To clear all accounts. To close the circle. To find what remains of the Ku Klux Klan."
.
.
I am seriously ready to throw this man away in some asylum...
.
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"I can pay you well..."
.
I almost spitted my cigar.
That guy throwed on the table enough money to buy a goddamne shuttle made of gold.
Not that I need it, but hey...

"What I have to do?"- I ask hastily.

"Err, find what remains of the Klan?"

"Sure."
I send the man away with some promises, and arrange a meeting for tomorrow.
The day after I go to my favourite pub for a celebratory whisky. I'm going to become one of these rich guys with awesome
mansions and beautiful maidens.
All thanks to Mr. Madman. Thanks, Mr. Madman.

Rick, my usual informer, is sitting close to me with some of my usual drinkmates.

"Hey Ricky, what do you know about the Ku Klux Klan?"

He and the guys laugh.

"Come here Tommy. I have a fun story for ya."

As I sit, the man starts talking.

"Do you remember James, that little brat who incidentally is my cousin? Yeah, that guy. One day he gone hunting. Heh, it's a miracle he doesn't shoots his dick. So, he falled down an hill and found a cave, okay? In that cave there was some ruins, maybe from the Civil War. He saw a light atop one of them, and climbed to the roof. Here he seen a flaming cross with someone attached to it. That's what made him think of the KKK. Well, apart from the white dressed guys that tried to eat him, obviously."

We laughed.

"I later found the cave. It was the old Cave Of The Raccoon. Remember? We used to play there as childs."

"Oh yeah, sure. It's enough, Rick, thanks."

I payed a drink to them and got back to my office. Mr.Madman came, and was very enthusiast of the news. He gave me lotsa money, and leaved.

The afternoon I gone to the bank and showed the cashier the money.

"It's fake."
.
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"What?"
.
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"It's fake. Considering that these were printed at least in the 1850, you could still sell them for a decent price."
"Maybe you could ask Butch?"

I exit out of the bank. I'm angry. Especially because Butch, the only guy in the zone that knows how to sell this sort of things, wants my head. Bah.

Three days after, on the newspaper I discover that a man was found dead in the woods. I was shocked by the photo of the man. He was Mr. Madman.
Apparently, someone burned him alive.

I fell slightly guilty. After all, I sended him in the cave didn't I?

Out of curiosity, I decided to inspect the cave. Maybe there is someone there.

At about noon, I, with Rick and some friends, reach the place. At the end of the cave there are indeed some ruins, but no strange things.

Bah. A waste of time.

As I leaned to a wall to lit a cigar, something hit me. Hard.
.
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Aaarggghh!!!!!
.
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I snap back into reality.

I...am...alive?

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I already have some ideas.But if I ever win(heh,it's more probable that Newgrounds runs out of shit),I don't want the money.Give it to someone else.

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Well,uh...

First,grammar.Some typos here and here,and messed up punctuation.

Second,the story.It is,or seems,rushed.Take your time.Try to add more things.

Other things:
The first chapters are supposed to explain something about the universe.It's not a rule,but it helps.
I still don't understand if Xerion is male or female...

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At 9/24/12 08:58 PM, Adam-Beilgard wrote:

At 9/24/12 01:12 PM, Labraxadores wrote: You've got some talent here.
The writing style is good,and for now I don't see any flaws.

I have a story about Madness too,and i may or may not submit it.

Thanks!

I say, bring it on. Maybe we'll show the demand is high enough to bring lit contests back!

Gimme' some time.

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Damn guys,I'd surely join this.

I would probably submit shit in a basket of pee,but hell,it will be fun.

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You've got some talent here.
The writing style is good,and for now I don't see any flaws.

I have a story about Madness too,and i may or may not submit it.