Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

---

I've noticed a trend in my writings. I suddenly get inspiration, start to write a novel/novella fast at about 1000 words per day. Suddenly, within the first week I slow down and then I completely stop halfway through. Usually it's because I suddenly get another fabulous idea and rush to write down a new novel, other times there's no reason at all.

I want to finish my novels, I got the plot in my head, but I suddenly feel unmotivated. I want to finish my novel, I really do, but I'm just too damn lazy.

Any suggestions/tip/comments/own expreiences to share?

---

link leads me to a gaming forum thread, I can't find your story anywhere

---

Yay

---

Example:

FRED: I hate you!

As opposed to

Fred screamed, 'I hate you!'

See which one is more effective in communicating Fred's hate?

You could do this instead:

FRED(angrily): I hate you!

By the way, having a character shout out the name of his attack won't win over any mature audiences.

---

At 12/9/10 01:03 PM, Deathcon7 wrote:

At 12/8/10 04:04 PM, tinytim12 wrote: http://tinytim12.newgrounds.com/news/pos t/525924 (link also in my sig)

The first chapter of a novel set in a post apocalyptic sci fi era. Sorry but it may seem cliched at the start.

A tad overdue, sorry.

I'm, honestly, a little bit in like with your premise. It reminds me of Lost Odyssey, which was a great, great game. I get the sense, however, that you're not much of a reader. Your characters, your dialogue, it all screams Saturday Morning cartoon. The cartoons, while entertaining to children, are always contrived and suffer from archtypical characters. You need to infuse more character into your characters. You do this by affecting their personility in the way they talk, act, and treat others. For example, a "Lone Wolf" is a lone wolf by choice. That being said, one wouldn't willingly take on a straggler unless they absolutely have to, the need being self-preservation-- read: black mail. If you want to utilize the archetype, be sure to do so properly. And don't make concessions with the characters for the sake of the plot, because it only makes the narrative transparent.

I would love to help plot doctor what you have so far, because I think it has potential. Darkening the mood, improving the coherency of the action, and infusing a bit more fluid pacing into the narrative would take this story to the next level.

Your writing style also lends itself well to story telling. While your narratives does suffer from some issues with regard to syntax, your diction is at a level that makes it easy enough to read, but not so simple as to become overly puerile.

My advice is to work on characterization, dialogue, and active narration. Mature your plot, and you could really do justice to your premise.

Good luck.

Actually I am sort of an avid reader. It's just that when I was writing this I was watching a lot of anime at that time. Looking back, I think I'm going to re write the whole thing.

Anyway, it's kinda sad that only you are critiquing everyone's work when this is supposed to be a group effort from the writing forum. Maybe I'll join in if I'm confident enough of my writing skills.

---

http://tinytim12.newgrounds.com/news/pos t/525924 (link also in my sig)

The first chapter of a novel set in a post apocalyptic sci fi era. Sorry but it may seem cliched at the start.

---

At 12/7/10 02:01 AM, KemCab wrote: I will be absolutely frank with you: this is a terrible introduction. I don't mean this in a bad way, either. I doubt that anybody, even an absolute weirdo, would have a strange fixation with the addition of an extra 'e' -- which is an equally valid spelling of 'grill', by the way.

I think he's trying to make the point that the narrator is a weirdo beyond weirdos.

---

The chewing of gum continued. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw DJ blow a bubble, heard it pop. The lift continued its journey upwards. For a moment, all was quiet. Luke could hear his own raspy, panicked breaths. He was convinced that once he made a move, DJ would attack. All Luke could bring himself to do was stare at the silvery elevator doors.

DJ tapped him on the shoulder.

Luke forced himself to turn his head. He was vaguely aware his whole body was drenched in sweat, as if he had just run a marathon.

'Want some?' DJ offered. In an extended hand, he held a wad of gum. His voice had an arrogant, mocking tone.

Luke felt faint. Darkness ate at the corner of his vision, he shook his head furiously. No. he couldn't chicken out now. Not for Tiffany...

DJ laughed. 'How pitiful,' he snorted. 'A man such as you reduced to a sniveling rat.'

Luke stopped shaking.

'You, Mr. Mackay, are a constant reminder of why I detest humans so much. They are spineless wimps. In addition, highly unintelligent. Those people that accompanied you walked into a death trap and they didn't even realise it. How pitiful.'

Luke bent his head. His shoulders shook.

DJ blew another gum bubble. 'I only spared you that night, because I wanted to see if you would recover. as it turns out, I was not disappointed.' The bubble burst with a loud pop which reverberated around the small lift. 'Any last words?'

Luke emitted a loud, high pitched sound.

DJ shook his head. 'Please, Mr. Mckay, do not make this any more embarrassing for yourself.'

Luke threw back his head. 'I'm not crying, DJ.' he said, and then he bent over, laughing for the second time.

The entity standing next to him was silent for a few moments. 'Has your sanity snapped?'

'Oh, not at all,' Luke chuckled, desperately trying to stifle his mirth. 'In fact, it's quite the opposite.' Finally managing to control the laughter, Luke looked his enemy right in the eye. 'I am going to kill you.'

DJ's smile dropped, the first time he had shown any signs of weakness. Luke continued, aware of the fact that the gum chewing had abruptly stopped. 'You know who are the men who have nothing to fear?'

'Who, pray tell?'

'Thos who realise they have nothing to lose.'

The elevator doors opened. Luke fired twice at DJ's outstretched hand, which was still extended when Luke had been offered a piece of gum. DJ snarled, dropped the wad of gum. A cloud of smoke suddenly enveloped the elevator. Luke dashed out of the lift, and into the office area.

'You're going to die!' Luke shouted with all his might, rage taking over his mind. He fired blindly into the cloud of smoke, and heard the bullets hit nothing but wall.

Adrenaline flowed rampantly through his veins. Hearing a whooshing sound, he dived to the side just as a desk exploded into flame. Hastily Luke darted deeper inside the cluster of cubicles, hid inside one, and snapped open the ammunition casing of his rifle. He took out one fifty caliber bullet and began making adjustments to it.

'You may have proved me wrong once, Mr. Mckay,' DJ's amplified voice rang about the building. 'But, rest assured, you are going to die in any case. Painfully.'

Having made his modifications, Luke inserted the special bullet into the chamber, and sprinted out of his cover. If DJ was around, he was out of sight. Luke ran around the maze of cubicles, desperately hoping that the bastard would show himself.

An image floated in his head - Tiffany's body, horribly mangled. Luke suddenly felt anger course through his veins like a bolt of hot lightning. The feeling was wonderous, liberating, in a fucked up kind of way.

I'm going to kill you, DJ, he thought furiously. I am going to kill you, even if it means giving my life.

He cursed himself for getting distracted, and continued running. Only when he had reached the glass windows did he stop. A dead end.

DJ turned a corner, and stood directly in front of him. With steely determination, Luke raised his rifle.

'That cannot kill me,' DJ said. 'Your petty attempts at revenge are unfortunately in vain.'

Luke gritted his teeth. Something fell out of his pocket, and DJ's visibly started. A crumpled up gum wrapper was fluttering to the floor.

'Where did you get that?' DJ hissed.

'You offered it to me, remember? Although, the gum's not in my mouth,' Luke tapped the top of the rifle. 'It's in here. Why don't you have taste of your own medicine, motherfucker?!'

Before DJ could do anything else, Luke pulled the trigger. A golden five hundred gram slug, completely encased in strawberry flavoured gum that was beyond this world, shot through the air and tore through DJ's skin like it was paper. The glass behind DJ shattered into a million pieces, letting the wind rush in.

'My...God...' DJ swore, taking a step back, his hand flying to the bloody hole in his stomach.

'He can't help you now,' Luke said. DJ stumbled backwards, and one of his flailing feet touched air. Then he was gone, falling down a few hundred meters below.

Luke stood in the spot for a moment, panting, and slowly sank to his knees. He looked at his silver necklace.

'Thank you, God,' he breathed. 'and thank you, Tiffany.'

He lay there for a moment, before he realised he still had a mission. Makarov might or might not be here - but he had definitely heard gunshots coming from upstairs. Breathing heavily, he rose, ready to investigate. Just then his walkie-talkie burst into life.

'Luke!' Jackson's voice yelled. 'We did it. Makarov's dead.'

Luke could hardly believe it. 'Are you serious?'

'Took a while - the bastard's a fighter - but Smiley popped him in the end. Hell yeah, I'm serious!'

The elevator doors opened. Luke dropped the walkie-talkie in shock.

'We're now putting some distance between us and the building, I suggest you do the same, DJ might come - Luke? Hello - '

A foot stamped on the radio, breaking it into pieces. And then Luke was raised high in the air, by the left arm of DJ.

'It'll take more than that to kill me, I'm afraid,' DJ said softly. 'I told you, you're attempts were futile.'

'No,' Luke grinned. 'Makarov's dead.'

'What?!'

'My partners killed him. While you and me were playing tag, they got away. Mission success.'

For the first time since Luke had known him, DJ's body was standing entirely taut. Luke could see his lower lip was trembling. DJ was angry.

'Die!' he roared.

And then suddenly Luke was flying, past the offices and out of the skyscraper. For a moment he hung in mid-air, and then he fell.

Luke looked up as his body dropped down fifteen storeys. He saw DJ looking down at him, but for once he didn't pay attention to that. Someone else was standing beside DJ, unnoticed. It was a young woman with blonde hair.

I did well.

That was the last thought Luke had before his body hit the pavement.

---

Tsk...tsk...tsk...tsk...

The sound, normally so soft, pounded itself into Luke's brain. The wind slammed him into a tree, and he dropped. DJ walked over to him. 'So, Mr. Mckay, will you pledge your allegiance to Makarov?'

'Never,' gritted Luke, holding his rifle like a club and swinging it at DJ with all his might. It bounced off DJ like it was made of rubber.

Dj cocked his head, the malicious grin disappearing. 'You are not scared?'

'I've faced worse in the war, cowboy,' Luke tried another swing, to no avail. 'You go back and tell Makarov that he can go fuck himself.'

'So this is how it has to be,' DJ sighed. He snapped his fingers. The sound was so loud in the silent graveyard that Luke instinctively took a step back.

And then he heard a voice that struck pure terror in his heart.

'Dad?' Tiffany's voice floated towards him. 'Where are you? Are you okay?'

Luke turned his ashen face towards DJ. 'Please. No.'

'Sorry,' DJ lied, and then flicked his hand. Tiffany's body flew towards him and landed at his feet in a crumpled heap.

'Okay, you win,' Luke gasped. 'I'll join Makarov.'

'Too late.'

Luke tried to leap forwards, to rescue his daughter from this demon, but his legs were bound to the ground with an unnatural force. Tiffany groaned, and her groans turned to screams when DJ pointed at her.

'Watch,' DJ said. 'This is going to be very educational.'

He snapped his fingers, and then Tiffany burst into flames. Her cries were the worst sound Luke had ever heard in his life. When the flames subsided, her whole body was covered in burns and she was shaking uncontrollably.

'You bastard!' Luke choked.

DJ grinned. Tiffany shifted her head, and Luke realised that she was still alive. 'Dad..' she croaked. 'Don't...'

Her body went up in flames again. When it cleared, her face was barely recognizable. The writhing mass that was once her body moaned. She was still alive

Luke could only watch in horror as the one he loved the most was tortured to death.

The agonizing process seemed to take an eternity. When Tiffany died, her screams of agony still rang in Luke's head, bounced around the skull. As he listened to these imaginary sounds, he felt his sanity slipping.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. With a supreme effort, Luke brought his mind back to Earth. DJ was standing in front of him, offering a clear, gray wrapper of Makarov Strawberry flavoured chewing gum.

'Want some?' DJ offered.

Luke couldn't respond even if he tried.

'The offer still stands,' DJ said, and his hand pressed something into Luke's. Luke felt a chill run all over his body when the monster touched him.

DJ withdrew his hand. 'Just a little reminder,' he grinned, and vanished. After a few minutes, Luke looked down and saw what DJ had given him. A silver necklace decorated with a crucifix, which was all that was left of his daughter.

His mind finally snapped.

---

Luke shook off the last of his troubled memories as he completed preparations.. He set the rifle on his stand, and peered through his advanced scope. Instantly his vision went blue. The tinted windows of the Faxus building were opaque no more, instead, he saw desks, cubicles, photocopying machines, everything inside the building.

But there was nobody there.

'Luke, give me a sitrep,' Smiley's voice crackled through the walkie-talkie, making Luke jump.

'There're no guards,' he said.

'What? How about Makarov?'

Luke guided his rifle until he was looking at the tip of the skyscraper. There were no windows here. 'I can't be sure.'

Silence. Then Smiley said, 'We're going in anyway. Watch our backs. I smell a trap.'

Luke shifted his rifle down and tracked his allies' movements as they entered the building. He watched the two figures sweep their assault rifles around, and then they slowly proceeded up to the second floor. Every nerve was screaming at him that this was a trap, they were all in mortal danger, and DJ the cowboy would come very soon...

There was a tapping sound, and Luke whimpered in fright. His head whipped round, and he realised that was just the wind blowing the rickety door, causing it to bang against the wall.

He cursed. Since when was he such a wimp? Tiffany would have eaten him up if she heard of this. He started cursing Makarov, cursed DJ, but most of all, he cursed himself.

Luke settled back into his crouching position, and peered over the ledge, looking at the long drop below. The thought of hurling himself out of the window was oddly comforting.

Wiping sweat off his brow, he decided he'd better do a second sweep of the building just in case. Carefully moving his weapon around, he had a look at the second floor, then the fourth, then the fifth...

There was a figure crouched on the roof, holding a long scoped rifle that was pointed directly at him.

Luke dived to the floor, knowing there was no time for a counterattack. A sharp crack resounded in his ears, followed by a soft tinkling. A bullet slammed into the wall behind him, trailing shards of glass. Luke looked at his rifle which he had left on the ledge. The bullet from the enemy sniper had tore right through Luke's scope, rendering it useless.

Staying low, Luke crawled to where he thought his walkie-talkie lay. His hand darted out, grabbed it from the ledge. Just as he pulled his hand back there was another crack, and a hole appeared in the wall. Gritting his teeth, and trying to overcome the panic that was slowly consuming him, Luke pressed the transmit button of the walkie-talkie.

'Smiley! Jackson! There's a sniper on the roof. This may be a trap.'

No one replied.

'Jackson? Smiley? Please respond!'

Nothing but dead static.

Luke lay on the cold floor, letting terror settle on him. Smiley and Jackson were most likely dead. The mission was fucked, and, come to think of it, had it been his imagination, or did the sniper wear a hat...

It was impossible. Completely impossible.

Luke pulled the trigger one last time, and then that was it, his ammo was out. The last bullet just streaked through DJ as if he was air.

He's not human, Luke realised with mounting panic, and then the gentle breeze suddenly became a roaring whirlwind.

Luke tried to stand up, but the wind was too strong. He could hardly breathe as it buffeted at his face. DJ laughed, and then the wind grew even stronger. Luke felt the tombstone behind him begin to dislodge. And then suddenly it was ripped free, shooting across the graveyard.

Surprisingly, Luke himself was not swept away. But he knew he was being kept here only because DJ wanted him to be. DJ was in control now. Luke the war veteran, Luke the tough guy, Luke who could shoot a man's eye out at over a hundred meters, it was all meaningless. He might as well be an ant compared to the unholy entity standing before him.

In desperation, he made the sign of the cross.

DJ laughed again. 'Your God cannot help you now,' it shouted, and the wind seemed to howl in reply. 'No one can. I am DJ, superior to all that was and will be.'

Luke screamed in despair, and then he went shooting backwards, tossed about in the wind like a ragdoll...

Luke forced himself back to reality.

He had to get out of here. DJ had anticipated them. DJ had planned all this. There was still time to run, no, no, there was no time, DJ would get him all right, no matter how far he tried to run...

Fuck. Luke reached upwards, grabbed the butt of his rifle, and pulled it down, letting it clatter to the floor beside him. Grabbing it, he crawled to the staircase, then jumped up and went down.

Once he exited the apartment building he sprinted towards Makarov's skyscraper. Any moment he expected a bullet in his back, but the sniper seemed to have disappeared.

He entered the lobby. All the lights were brightly lit, but there was no receptionist, no security guards, nothing. This building was dead.

Luke swallowed. He went over to one of the empty desks, and found there were papers strewn across it. Almost as if someone had left in a hurry.

There was a strange smell in the air. Strawberry flavoured gum, to be exact.

Yelping, he jumped backwards, tumbling to the floor. The smell was gone as quickly as it had come. But there was no doubt in his mind.

DJ was around.

In blind fear he began running for the exit, then he changed direction and slammed his fist against the wall. Pain began to wake him up.

He was such a spineless weasel. Smiley and Jackson might still be alive, and even if they weren't, it was his job to finish the mission. A voice in his mind kept reiterating that he was going to die, but he tried to block it out. Tiffany's voice came through instead. You coward.

'Fucking shit cock fuck,' he swore, spinning round. He couldn't afford to let Tiffany down.

There was a gunshot.

It was very distant, but it had definitely come from above him. In other words, someone was shooting in Makarov's office.

On leaden legs, he staggered over to the lift. Smiley had advised against that, as anyone inside the cramped space would be a sitting duck, but all Luke cared about was getting to the top as quickly as possible. Because he also had to get out of here quickly. Otherwise, DJ might turn up...

He pressed the button labelled 20. With a loud mechanical groan, the lift lurched upwards and began rising slowly.

Luke jerked his head up. What was that? Screams? He could have sworn someone upstairs was yelling in terror. And then there was a wet sound. The tsk, tsk of chewing gum...

Feeling a sudden sense of claustrophobia, Luke stabbed at the button labelled 4. To hell with this. He was taking the stairs.

The lift jerked to a stop at the fourth floor. The doors slowly opened.

DJ walked into the lift, and stood next to Luke.

Luke had time to glimpse a bloody, broken body draped over a desk before the lift doors closed, trapping him. The stench of strawberry hung in the air, as well as the incessant sound of someone chewing gum.

Oh God. He willed his hand to move, and his head to turn, but all the nerves in his body had frozen up. The chewing beside him continued...

Tsk...tsk...tsk...tsk...

---

A man and a monster in an elevator

It was dark. Cold. Slimy. The temperature must have been a freezing fifteen degrees. Luke tried to remember what he was doing here. He couldn't. His mind was hazy, like it had been immersed in freezing cold water. Something flitted out of the darkness in front of him, and then disappeared. A cowboy hat.

For some reason, Luke tensed. A sniper rifle suddenly appeared in his hand. The weight of it felt reassuring, after all, he had been using it for over ten years. The fleeting relief melted when he made out tombstones in the darkness. So he was in a cemetery. Everything about this little scene was somehow familiar. Had he been here before?

Suddenly the cowboy hat rushed at him, and everything became horrifyingly clear. The rifle dropping from his limp fingers, Luke opened his mouth and screamed.

--

He awoke on the hard wooden floor, panting. His hand automatically went to the silver cross hanging on his neck, and just knowing it was there calmed him down a lot. Slowly sitting up, he looked at the clock. 5am.

It was already an hour before the mission. There was no point in going back to sleep, even if he could have.

Like a dead man, he staggered to the bathroom, having to try two times before his shaking hand hit the switch. Blessed light flooded the room.

Luke looked into the mirror, and saw a very, very scared man staring back at him.

'Shit,' he said to himself. 'Shit. I can do this.'

He thought of Tiffany, and his nerve tightened. Gripping the crucifix like it was his lifeline, and he picked up the toothbrush uncertainly. It was time to prepare.

An hour later, he arrived at the fifth floor of the abandoned apartment, at room number 504. His two partners, Smiley and Jack Jackson, were already there. The dim lighting in the place did little to ease his nerves.

You're late,' Smiley growled from behind his yellow mask. He strolled away without another word.

Jackson looked apologetically at Luke. 'Sleep alright?'

'Yeah,' Luke lied. He could tell Jackson didn't believe him.

'Listen, Luke, I've noticed you've been jittery theses past few months. Are you still - '

'I'm fine,' Luke set down his backpack and began assembling his rifle.

'Have you recovered?'

'I said I'm fine.'

'You know, you can back out if you want to...'

Smiley barged over to them. It was extremely ironic that he was wearing a mask with a smiley face etched onto it, for his mannerisms always suggested otherwise. 'Jackson, shut it. We need him.'

'Actually, he isn't vital, he just increases our chances of success. He's been having a rough time, you know, after DJ showed up last week...'

'DJ?' Even Smiley shuddered at the name. He turned to Luke. 'DJ isn't likely to be here, anyway. Remember? I set up some distractions. By the time he realises what's going on, we'll be long gone.'

Smiley appeared to be trying to convince himself. All three of them knew if the entity called DJ made an appearance, all of them were fucked. A couple of sub machine guns and a sniper rifle were far from enough to stop that monster, if he showed up.

Nevertheless, Luke nodded, trying to look confident. Smiley grunted and went over to the window, pointing at a large skyscraper directly opposite the apartment building.

'Okay, let me give you idiots a quick recap. Our target is Peter Makarov, CEO of that cesspit Faxus, in case you've forgotten. His office is on the top floor. Judging from Jackson's incredibly risky - ' Here Smiley glared at Jackson before continuing.

'Anyway, based on Jackson's undercover work, we know Makarov will still be up there about this time. Top floor, the twentieth, to be exact. We'll proceed from the back entrance and slowly work our way to him. There's bound to be opposition, so that's where you come in,' he nodded to Luke. 'You won't be going in with us. You'll be here, providing sniper support.'

Luke involuntarily sighed in relief, and immediately hated himself for it.

'The windows of course are tinted, but they are still windows. I trust your fancy scope will do the job?'

Luke nodded.

'Excellent. Makarov's men will be flanked. If we do this right, we might finally be able to cap that bastard.' Smiley scratched the back of his head. 'That's all. Try not to die, please.'

He picked up the AK-47 lying on the ledge, and checked the ammunition. Satisfied, he started down the staircase. 'Jackson? You coming?'

Jackson nodded, and Smiley disappeared down the staircase. Luke looked at Jackson, who grabbed him by the shoulders.

'Listen, Luke, can you do this? Are you sure?'

Luke swallowed, and tried to speak with as much conviction as he could muster. 'Peter Makarov had been poisoning this city with his filth and lies for as long as I can remember. Do you think a silly little man named DJ is going to stop me from helping to take Makarov down?'

'DJ's not silly,' Jackson shook his head. 'And he certainly isn't a man. I hope you know what you're doing.'

Luke actually found himself unafraid - for a moment, anyway. Anger was good. It helped distract him. Quelling his fears, he continued on with the rant. 'Makarov raped my daughter. She raped Tiffany. Did you know that?'

'Jesus,' Jackson shook his head. 'Well, good luck.'

He clapped Luke on the back, and then he ran down the staircase, leaving Luke alone.

The light was flickering. Luke tried to ignore that, thinking he should focus on the mission. But as he made the final adjustments to the rifle, he couldn't help but noticed he was in a setting eerily similar to a cemetery...

The man in the cowboy hat watched him, slowly chewing a piece of gum, his face hidden by the shadow of his wide-brimmed headgear. A strong smell of strawberry wafted towards Luke

'Who are you?' demanded Luke.

'I am an enforcer from Makarov,' There was a tsking sound as the cowboy chewed. 'Apparently you've been speaking out against him. Perhaps, on our glorious President Makarov's behalf, I can offer you - '

'Cut the crap,' Luke snapped, raising his rifle. 'I suggest you leave.'

'Fool.' Suddenly the man's voice changed, it was no longer sweet and coaxing, it was now cold and neutral, ringing through Luke's ears. 'Do you know who I am?'

The ground shuddered. Luke staggered, and when he looked up he saw a flash of red beneath the cowboy hat. Surely that was his imagination, right? Or did the man's eyes just glow?

'I am DJ.' the man grinned. 'Lord over everything that has been or will be.'

A wave of heat suddenly enveloped Luke's face. With a cry, he fired the rifle -

---

o hai johnny

---

The screenplay started off well, but as it went on it seemed a tad too ridiculous for me. Random, even.

---

Look at my sig. Click the link. I would really appreciate it if someone gave me a detailed critique.

---

Be more specific plz.

---

At 11/5/10 09:45 PM, ItsRangasLife wrote: Honestly you two, its not really an idea that will be chosen, rather a written piece, which is easy for animators and voice actors alike to understand.

Meh. Would take some time.

---

At 11/3/10 09:10 PM, GeneralPlanet wrote: Ok? Sucks to be you.

What? Expect some sympathy? You're at Newgrounds, go fuck yourself.

Oh, come on man. We ain't that bad.

---

So let me get this straight, are we allowed to create ANY sinister event, so long as it takes place on Halloween? Sounds a bit dodgy.

Also, what is the word limit? I've been looking everywhere and can't find it :(

---

Dude, break up your paragraphs. Seriously, one big chunk of text isn't easy on the eyes.

---

I was hoping to enter this one, as scary stories aren't something that I've written before, but unfortunately by the time I heard about it exams were around the corner.

That said, there were some outstanding submissions. I think it's going to be pretty clear who are the winners.

---

I like it. However the description of the mist being 'mundane' sounds kind of awkward.

---

This guy, apparently. And it's not comedy either.

---

Hai gaiz! Wanna read the first chapter of my novel? Well, you can read it! By clicking on this link.

It's that simple! That's right folks you can read my super awesum novel FOR FREE. What's more, you can post comments as harsh as you want, so long as their constructive! Well, what are you waiting for? It's MUST CLICK!

I was joking about the awesum part. Actually it's just mediocre.

---

My good sir, that was quite epic. Bravo.

But you need to separate your paragraphs, man. One big chunk of text isn't easy on the eyes.

---

If you're looking for animators, try the flash forums instead. However if you're looking for critiques of your script, post here.

---

Shit, shit shit. I thought my story was okay, but when I read it a second time, it's horrible. Oh my gosh.

---

'Your mother'

---

Lol. When i was 12 i wrote a piece of crap and thought it was good.
At age 14 I looked back, saw that my story was crap and wrote another one thinking it was good.
At age 15 I looked back and realised my second story was still crap.

It's actually kinda depressing, the realization that your writing isn't as good as you thought it was. At times I thought I'd just give up on writing altogether, but the urge to write, that all of us here in the writing forum have, that was what kept me going, to continue to write mediocre stories.

Hopefully I'll improve, I still have lots of years ahead of me to do so.

---

Sorry, but that wasn't very good. I had to struggle to finish it.

Firstly, make more paragraphs. One big block of text isn't easy on the eyes, and many readers will find such things unappealing to read.

Secondly, the plot is very simple. So there's this organisation fighting against rebels. Sheftel fights, gets captured, fights again...there's all there is to it. Maybe I'm being too harsh, but there is honestly no unique plot at all to keep me engaged.

Thirdly, the characters are flat and dull. You say Sheftel is an ideal soldier. So is millions of other people in other fiction. Madison can snipe. So can everybody else who holds a rifle. Every character has almost no personality. Characters drive the story, and you have to make us more interested in them or make us like them, in order for us to be engaged and keep following them in you story. Make them unique, give them a specific personality, give them a sad backstory, be creative.

Well, I was like you when i just started writing. Hopefully you'll improve.

---

'What?!' the clown shrilled. 'Come on! Fight me! Kill me, Hank!'

'Wait,' Hank said. 'Lemme try something.'

'What is there to try?!' Tricky cried, dancing on his feet, as if electrocuted. 'Just fight me!'

A black object appeared into the sky and hurtled down. Tricky looked upwards and jumped to the side, just in time to avoid a Yamaha Grand Piano from crushing him to mush.

'The fuck?' Tricky cried, panting.

'Since I'm going insane,' Hank smiled. 'A piano in the sky won't hurt.'

Tricky stared at him. 'Fuck you,' he said, and then darted towards his hated enemy. A wall suddenly appeared in front of him, and was quickly reduced to dust when a passing dragon lent Tricky its flames. Hank morphed his rifle into a makeshift rocket launcher, and fired a rocket, but the clown, grinning madly, twirled his sign and slashed the missile in two. The two bits fell onto the ground, grew arms and legs, changing into zombies, who were immediately shot in the head by a random bullet that had teleported out of nowhere.

'Shit!' Tricky cried, jumping back when fire rose up of the ground, dividing him and Hank. 'I control you, dammit! I am the one bending reality, idiot, not you!'

'On the contrary, I am the one making the rules,' Hank said, putting his hand on the ground, and retrieving a snake that had just popped out. 'It's my mind, after all.'

'What you're doing isn't real,' Tricky snarled.

'You aren't real.' Hank replied, feeling calmer than he had in many months.

'You don't know that.'

'Neither do you.'

Tricky snarled. 'I'll kill you.'

'Is that your comeback?' Hank actually had it in him to laugh. 'Well, goodbye, Tricky.'

'What?!'

'Just one simple test.' Hank held the passive snake with two hands and pointed its mouth towards Tricky. 'If you're real, you should be killing me right now. However...'

The snake opened its mouth. Tricky stared at the exposed jaws, and he hastily created a forcefield around him.

'I don't think you are,' Hank said, 'This is my world, and I control it.'

The snake's mouth spewed a colossal plume of flame. The fire shot past the forcefield as if it was nothing and engulfed Tricky.

'HAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKK!' The clown had time to shout, before the fire consumed his face and rendered him incapable of speech, forever. Hank lowered the snake and watched as the flames slowly died down. There was nothing left but ashes, which blew away in the wind.

Hank sighed, cleaned his glasses, and replaced them. He walked back to the lift, which had appeared out of nowhere, and pressed the 8 button and waited patiently until it arrived at his office building.

When he stepped out of the lift, there were no bodies. Everything was just as he left it. Good. Exactly as he had desired.

He logged onto his computer, and began typing. After that, he would inspect a property called Greenview. And then, he would probably be invited to a party by that crazy Deimos. Maybe he'd bring that Christian along, he seemed nice.

It occurred to him that this might all not be real, the office building and friends could be all inside his head, but he found himself not caring anymore. Whatever he believed was real, would be real, and damn the consequences.