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Happy New Year to one and all!
I thought that for 2011, we could start by taking the contests in a different direction, particularly as Tom was looking for us to become more innovative
in his recent New Year's post. What I thought was that we could all do something that brings together the Audio and Flash Portals into the mix as well:
The theme for this contest is to create a flash script for a piece of music on the Audio Portal. This doesn't mean that you have to go and find a song,
with lyrics and make a music video script. You could merely interpret what goes on within a piece of ambient backing music. What we're looking for is
something that has enough inspiration and description for a flash artist to come along and say "I'm going to animate that". If it does, the audio artist
gets more exposure, the flash artist creates a good piece to the best of their abilities and YOU could get credit as a writer.
All official entries must be submitted here. No linking to your piece hosted elsewhere. No discussion whatsoever in this thread. All discussion for this
competition must take place in the: DISCUSSION THREAD.
Please read through the entirety of the opening posts and familiarize yourself with the rules and regulations of this competition. All participants must
comply to the rules listed below, as they are final. Failure to comply will result in disqualification from the current competition.
MWC11 January / February - Musical Interpretation
Build your piece around a submission on the Newgrounds Audio Portal and present the link at the top of the submission. Please use the BBS formatting, just
pasting the URL in the BBS text.
Settings are pretty much free form, though try not to get too complex, as you are working to a word limit and there are only so many of us judging the
piece on quality, not quantity. The same goes for characters, though please try to be original. Historical figures are permitted, but descending into some
sort of piece based around characters from a book you have recently read should be steered clear of.
1) Your piece must involve the goings on of Halowe'en and the direct aftermath of these events
2) Minimum Word Count: 500 Words
3) Maximum Word Count: 5,000 Words (Think about it though, is that going to be too long?!)
Monday, February 14th 0300hrs EST.
1st - $50 Store Credit
2nd - $40 Store Credit
3rd - $30 Store Credit
4th - $20 Store Credit
5th - $10 Store Credit
1) Please ensure you have proof read your submission before posting it. There are plenty of decent writers on here that have offered services for proofing
2) Post your stories ONLY in this thread.
3) Do not post revisions in this thread. They will be deleted.
4) You may submit one story only, one time. Posts will not be deleted at your demand so make sure your work is perfect before posting here.
5) Entries should be posted concordantly in the thread. Don't post the first part, then leave it three days before posting the next, as this makes judging
1) Contestants may submit exactly one entry. No more. Users found trying to smart ass their way around this rule will be disqualified from this and an
arbitrary number of future competitions to be agreed on by the judges. (You are your alt and vice versa)
2) Users caught posting writings which they do not own will face imediate disqualification from this and any future contests. That means don't try to pass
other's work off as your own, you will fail and we'll all hate you!
3) Users must submit on or before the given date. NO EXCEPTIONS!
4) You must follow the rules of this BBS. If you have a question about whether you will be breaking them, contact a moderator.
5) HAVE A BUNCH OF FUN! OR ELSE!
The judges do not HAVE to review your work and give you a detailed critique, there are too many entries in most contests for that to be a plausible option.
You have the following options none the less:
1) I highly recommend that you review someone else's work, in that way, they may return the favor. ;)
2) Within the writing forum, you will find many threads dedicated to assisting people. If you cannot find what you are looking for, ask for help.
3) PM the specific person you would like to review your work and hope they will.
4) Post a link to a newspost on your user page which contains your story again, in either the discussion thread or at the end of your official submission
in this thread.
5) Mingle with the people in the writing forum. It's the best place for hints, tips and inspiration
Judges will be announced in the discussion thread, in due course.
For all Monthly Writing Contests from now on, if you have suggestions for themes, comments on the judging process, wish to become a part of the judging
team and so forth, please post it in the Monthly Writing Contest HQ
This sounds awesome and I can't wait to get to work, but what happens of more than one person chooses the same song?
Sig by ToastedToastyToast
Man, I really dropped a bollock on this one, didn't I? So many errors... The contest still stands. Put your submission in there with a clear link to the Audio at the top of the piece and we should all still get on fine though!
At 1/4/11 06:23 PM, DeadEndWorldStudios wrote: This sounds awesome and I can't wait to get to work, but what happens of more than one person chooses the same song?
Then it gets really interesting. You're allowed to choose whichever piece you like and in theory, there are so many piece on the AP, that no-one should choose the same piece. Harsh to disqualify someone for submitting a piece based on the music that someone else selected.
This may sound stupid but why does it have to be about the aftermath of Holloween?
At 1/5/11 12:10 AM, SmashFan2005 wrote: This may sound stupid but why does it have to be about the aftermath of Holloween?
NOTHING HAS TO BE TO DO WITH HALOWE'EN.And for those of you that care, it's a traditional spelling of holiday on the 31st of October
Please take discussions to the other thread >:(
Well, after listening to this piece of audio, though fairly short, this is what I have.
Before the audio there is a man sitting in a metal room. He is looking at a dirty photo of his wife, holding a tray of muffins smiling. A tear in drops onto the piece of paper. He is wearing combat gear and his shoulder pads are in the shapes of muffins. On his chest is a symbol of a muffin with wings.
At the beginning of the audio the man is lip syncing to the lyrics of the first 20 seconds. It shows deep space, accompanied by a large destroyed space cruiser. There is a rusted dull picture of a large muffin on the side of the broken space cruiser. The universe is extremely cluttered with galaxies and stars and there is a moon in the shape of a muffin in the distance. The abandoned ship is made up of dull colours, with pieces of debris floating around it. The wreck is old and burnt out as if it has been destroyed for several weeks. As the music builds up it zooms out deeper and deeper into space, then further zooms out of a man's pupil. It shows the man's face and he is screaming in sync with the lyrics. He pulls up a futuristic assault rifle and starts to fire wildly at a metal door on the other side of the room. There is a small window in the background of the scene, showing that he is inside of the destroyed ship. It then pans back and zooms in on a large metal door. The door is being torn open by gunfire, and strange mutant arms begin to emerge from the holes in the door. They are of sickly skin colour with oversized fingers and claws. Blood starts to spurt everywhere as the jagged metal tears at their flesh. As the audio reaches the pause in the growl at 00:46, the mutants burst out through the door and start to sprint in every direction, their needle like claws creating deeps scratches in the floor of the vessel as they run. They run past the walls, creating massive gashes in the metal, some of the mutants are even slashing at each other as they run. The mutants have muffins for heads (hence the name of the song). The man is still firing wildly. Blood, meat and muffin chunks are flying in every direction as a small montage of the man killing the mutants is showed. During the montage the background changes to muffins flying around with bright ridiculous colours like blue, green and yellow. He stops shooting and looks around nervously, there is blood covering him and his face. He proceeds to look around and see the floor plastered with distorted mutant bodies, all except for one, who stares back at him and smiles with a big grin, much like a troll face. This mutant is bigger than the others, and has several muffins coming out of his face and chest. It pans back to the man and he has a large freaked out contorted face, one eye is larger than the other and he has a completely unrealistic frown on his face. He raises the gun and pulls the trigger, all that is heard is the clicking of the gun, his mouth drops open in horror as he realises the gun is out of ammunition. A close of up the man's eye shows the newly disfigured mutant sickly running towards him in the reflection. He closes his eyes and the music stops.
Well. That helped me pass the time. Hope someone ends up actually liking this. =/
There. I've checked this one and yadda yadda. It was hard because the song was only about a minute. But i managed to get like 550 words. :P
-warwicks on the prowl, aww fuck man I know i'm dead-
go to my ill named thread here.
A bit of an unorthodox style of writing for me but I liked it, I feel that it fits, sorry if you disagree.
A samurai is pictured meditating in a garden, a man is pictured entering an elevator, calm as possible, and a spaceman is pictured going into a harbor with quiet resolution. The samurai unsheathes his sword, the Yakuza pulls out his handgun, the spaceman suits up his mech. The samurai begins sprinting through the colors and blurs of Dashou village, the Yakuza's elevator goes up ten floors, bands of light shining on his face on each floor, the spaceman's mech steps on the launch pad a thud with each step. Sword ready, gun loaded, photons charged. Dashou Shogun's neck hairs rise. Dai Show building's elevator opens up on the tenth floor. New Dai Show's army base has a blip on the interstellar radar. The massacres begin. A circle of enemies surround them and a moment of near stillness is held, faces tense, a drop of sweat falls to the bamboo floor, the soft carpet, the metal plated suit. A hundred arrows strike nothing but air as a sword cuts through the projectiles' owners. A thousand bullets soar through the office hole punching flying papers, a bullet being returned to each and ever gun being held. A million lasers deflect off a suit as it crushes the base and causes a mass explosion. A sliding door is opened, the samurai spots his target meditating on his high and mighty throne. The Yakuza turns at the sight of the weapons dealer making it to the elevator. The spaceman hears a rocket's engines flair in the distance. Ignoring the chaos around them they all sprint to their destination. The shogun unveils his sword as the samurai kills two lines of men on the narrow hallway to the throne. The Yakuza fires and misses at the sprinting dealer shoving interveners out of the way. The spaceman fires his mech's guns at the rocket as his armor depletes from heavy fire. The shogun sprints at his attacker in an attempt to come out on top, both only ten paces away. Ten paces away the Yakuza fires as the man desperately attacks the close door button in an attempt to escape. The spaceman, ten paces away, in an attempt to even the odds, fires a hook into the rocket and pulls out his last weapon. The shogun and samurai collide sliding forward opposite directions with the shogun to be dead. The Yakuza collides with the tight elevator doors his arm stuck in a crack of room; he fires at the man to be dead. The spaceman gets to the top of the rocket meeting eye to eye with the man to be dead from a soon coming massive explosion. The Samurai smiles as the last of the shogun's allies stab him in the chest. The Yakuza smiles as the survivors recuperate long enough to shoot him. The spaceman smiles as the explosion stemming from his chest obliterates a square mile radius of land.
Kamikaze they may have been called, but there's only one way out of the darkness.
The sun rises slowly over the horizon. The light undulates sensually across the dim purple palette of the fading dawn. The light's intensity flickers as beams of bright orange flare and retreat like the beating pulse of a resting beast. The light is fickle, fading in and out, retreating and lunging almost simultaneously through the cold night.
He rises from his bed. His body moves in the same undulating smoothness as the light of the new day. His stride is awkward, he walks forward yet his form flickers back and forth like a static image. If only briefly he seems to be in several places at once, his essence fading in and out of existence. The day breaks before him, the light swells up around him before again retreating. He does not flinch, he only continues, the light and cold do not disturb him, nor their abrupt shifting around him. With his stride the new day breaks over the horizon. The light settles and the gentle song of new beginnings echoes quietly over the silence.
Every time I hear this song this is what plays in my head ever since I found it.
Here is a link to the song:
The Empire in the Sky
Moving into position, a figure prepares a peice for it's orchestra of destruction. He flexes his gloved mechanical fingers over the ivory keys of his massive organ, and begins the ensemble. Smiling his permanent mechanical grin, he adjusts his top hat and gets his second set of arms ready. As the music builds and expands the sound reaches the ears of the inhabitants of a town similar to London. All of the town's residents race from their homes and look up to the sky; what they see scares them to their core. An island, detached from the earth, floating in the sky, with a giant castle sitting upon it. The castle was overflowing with immense pipes and gears and other large pieces of machinery, staring down upon the inhabitants of this town.
As this island draws closer, its shadow is cast across the town. All sorts of strange robotic creatures prepare canons and missiles, waiting for their musical orders. As the music grows louder with the addition of other machines instruments, the town's air-force soars above the ground towards the island. The music begins to level off. Receiving their long awaited orders, the robots open fire upon the town's people.
Dodging missiles and returning fire the air-force dives into the hopeless battle. One plane in particular, The Performer, began its aerial acrobatics. As the planes danced to the overwhelming music through the gunfire, they began to fall one by one. The few shots that landed upon The castle were barely noticeable. The pilots screamed over the radio as they hopelessly fell from the sky, one by one. The pilot of The Performer heard everyone, and made a silent vow to get revenge As the planes began to fall, large doors and hatches on The castle opened up, releasing its own fighters and planes into the atmosphere.
Flying close to the castle, The Performer tricks one fighter into crashing into The castle and destroys another with a hail of gunfire. As The Performer claims a third victim a group of large airships emerge from The castle. Locking on to The Performer one of these airships fires a large missile. The Performer changes its dance and begins an attempt to break the missile lock. The attempt fails. Spying a weak area in the wall of The castle, the performer heads towards it. Knowing the percentage of failure the pilot prepares for what comes next. At the last second, before hitting the wall of the castle, the pilot ejects into the open air. As the organist within the castle hits a highpoint in the song and repeats the first few notes, The Performer and the missile locked onto it slam into the castle cracking open a hole. Quickly, the pilot dives into the castle's newfound opening.
As the mechanical creatures of the castle peer into the smoke and debris from the crash, they awaited to see if anything survived. As they waited, a shadow slowly grows from deep within the smoke. Confused, the machines watch as the shadow of The Performer's pilot drew his sword, and attacked. Barreling through the machines, cutting down as many as possible, the pilot heads towards the innermost room of the castle. Utilizing his agility, the pilot speeds through the castle outwitting and maneuvering the machines as they attempt to understand what he is doing there and what to do about him. A door begins to open slowly just as the pilot reaches for the handle. As the pilot steps inside he gets a firsthand look at the orchestra. A large circular room full of pipes and machinery with robots of all sorts sticking out of walls playing their tune all focusing on a four armed organist in a cape stationed at the opposite end to the room from the door. As he moves toward the organist, a massive figure descended from the ceiling. Connected to all the machinery by flexible pipes and cables, the figure attacked the pilot with a giant spear.
Jumping around the room, utilizing the machinery and robots, the pilot began to evade the figure's attacks, which were at times a bit too close. He began to make his way to the organist as the figure began firing lightning and other magic at him. Maneuvering around the figure and cutting its connections to the machinery the pilot reaches the organist and causes the figure's spear to dive into the organ. Sparking and cracking the organ and its player began to go into overdrive and restarted the music. The figure seemed frightened, realizing what it had done and looking around at the other damage it had mistakenly done to the room while attacking the pilot.
The castle began to shake and crumble and the machinery began to give in and explode. Free from its mechanical binds the figure shrank to about the size of the pilot. Enraged it began its attack anew as the organist and its orchestra picked up the tempo. Spying a hole in the floor the pilot dived through the bottom of the castle and out into the sky leaving the figure standing on the edge. The pilot, landing on the top of another plane, flies away. The music fades with the castle as it shrinks away into the distance leading to its inevitable demise. The town's people watch as a plume of smoke rises from behind the hills and the fading music finally ends, along with the castle.
Sig by ToastedToastyToast
Here's the story i made. Its based off a song i did some while ago, and since i always make songs with a story in mind, i realized that i should go for this. So here you go:
I ran as fast as I could. There was no time left to be slow, no time left to even think about what I had to do. All I knew was that if I didn't at least try, the world as I knew it would end. Sweat ran down my back in icy streamlets, freezing in the bitter cold night air. I took a glance at my watch. Five minutes left, five minutes to decide the fate of humanity. I ran faster. The freezing wind howled through the alleys as I sprinted through the village. The last remnants of Christmas Eve could barely be seen through the snow; rotting trees and sparkling treats leering at me through the icy windows. Only yesterday, children had been still laughing, enjoying the cheer of the feast, but not today. Today, the village had fallen into perpetual sleep, and the only thing that could be heard was the howl of the wind, layered with a constant stink of sulphur.
Breathing hard, I burst into the clock tower and sprinted up the stairs, praying to any of the gods who would listen that I wasn't too late. I sneaked a quick glance at my watch, it was all I could spare, but the face was frozen over. My breath came in ragged gasps, my legs burned and the cold knife at my hip dug into my waist, a constant reminder of what I was tasked with doing; of what I had to do if humanity was to survive. All I could see were the stairs; step after step, going higher and higher. All I could hear was the clock mechanism whirring above me, the glowing hour hand creeping closer and closer to its final destination. And in the distance, I began to hear whispers of death, whispers in the dark, the final chanting of the dead, or the soon to be.
As I erupted through the door into the mechanism room, the first thing I noticed was the sudden heat. It hung across the air, clogging everything with a sense heaviness. The smell of sulphur here was almost unbearable. It filled every pore of my skin and clogged my throat. Then I saw Dartmoor standing in the middle of the room, bathed in purple light, his hands raised towards the heavens. He was chanting; chanting in a voice that constantly got louder and louder as time passed. The hour was close now, I had little time.
With a roar I sprinted towards him, my white knife leaping into my hand in a practiced movement, glinting in the moonlight which flooded in through the glass roof. I leaped at his unprotected back. He had heard me, I was sure of it, but he hadn't turned around, and by the time he did it would be too late. Then he turned, and I realized that I was wrong. He whirled round with blinding speed, a dagger materializing in his hand and stabbing forward. I felt a sudden pain, and I collapsed, screaming. The dagger was poisoned. Dartmoor looked down slowly, a smile across his face, his scar as pale as death. He raised one hand toward me and, with a cruel grin, spat out a few words of power. A blast of red light burst from his hand and I felt a sudden wracking pain. I screamed again. I howled. I writhed on the floor. I knew it was over; I had no time, nothing else I could do.
"It is too late foolish boy," screamed Dartmoor, the insanity in his voice cutting clear through my screams, "They will descend from the heavens, and humanity will burn with their coming!"
A maniac laugh escaped Dartmoor's lips, and he laughed at doom, at his doom as much as ours. The man was crazy I decided, if he was still a man. He'd given up that title a long time ago. But then, so had I.
"You'll never get away with this," I managed to gasp out as my vision blurred.
Dartmoor roared with laughter as a red doorway burst into existence behind him, blazing with an unearthly fire. I glimpsed an eternal plain through the portal and a dying red sun on the horizon.
"I already have, human. I already have!"
A red claw appeared behind him, bursting through the portal like a knife through butter. Grasping the head of the unsuspecting necromancer, it crushed it to pulp, blood squirting through its fingers. My eyesight turned red as the body of the Annular, the demon warlord, walked through the portal. He spotted Dartmoor's mutilated body and spat with brutal contempt. Then he lifted his monstrous head to the heavens and roared. I had failed, my time was past.
The demon stood bathed in the moonlight and shouted its defiance at humanity. Its legions of foul monsters crashed through behind, howling in joy and desperation, lusting for new blood. And behind it all, through the haze of blood and fire, the clock rung humanity's final hour.
Thanks for Reading!
I'd like to mention that this would be much too big for one episode, but could be condensed or even broken up into several episodes. Along with it if it were a flash submission then it would need several pieces of audio, but this one really fits the atmosphere.
I hope you enjoy. :)
Zombies. That word kept racing through my mind as I sat in the darkness, listening to screams of the dying. NONONONONONO!!! IT CAN'T BE! It makes absolutely no sense- so what! The fact is you're here and there's nothing you can do about it. For five hours I've been having mental arguments with myself. Most of me denies everything around me, but I guess you wouldn't call me rational.
I had to be the only one left in my small town of 2,500. It was unreal...surreal. I couldn't fathom what was happening at this point. Not yet.
Running, trying to escape from an unknown danger. I didn't know what that danger was, I just knew it was trouble. My legs felt like lead, I was moving at the speed of a fast snail, or so it felt. I turned around and saw nothing but shadow, shadow that was catching up to me. Then, I felt myself trip. Falling faster and faster, I know it's the end, the end of time, the end of me. I embraced myself for the impact and...
...CRASH! A loud noise from downstairs awoke me from my nightmare. They broke through! No! It's just a matter of time before they reach me. Acting on my feet instead of emotion this time, I jumped into action. I hadn't been so decisive in recent events-No. Don't think about that. Get moving. Live. Instinct, something we're all born with, but some more than others. I didn't waste any time at all. I sprang to my feet, grabbed the crude lead pipe, and was out the door. I peered down the long upstairs hallway of the high school, seeing nothing. That didn't mean nothing was down there though, there was no electricity and very little daylight.
I tiptoed down the hallway to my emergency exit, but heard another crash. F THIS! I broke out into a sprint as I ran for the window at the end of the hallway. I smashed it open with my lead pipe and hurriedly climbed out. Then I felt a sharp pain in my left shoulder. Bitten! NO! I struggled out of the window and turned around, raising the pipe and breathing heavily. Nothing, although I did notice some blood on a shard of glass hanging from a window pain. Oh my god, what a relief.
I looked around and soaked in my new surroundings. I had spent at least a day and a half in that school, and the new environment was astonishing. My hometown was now a giant landfill of murder. Bodies, well, arms, legs and pieces, were lying throughout main street. The moans and wails of the undead were louder now...I could hear hunger in their voices.
First thing's first. If you're gonna survive, you need a decent weapon. I usually don't agree with my inner voice, but this time I did. I was aware of the local gun shop about a couple of blocks away from my current location, so I decided to make my way there.
I tore a piece of my T-shirt off and wrapped it around my shoulder for a makeshift gauze to slow the bleeding. Crude, but it will have to do. I looked down from my elevation and saw I was standing on the remains of a barricade, I was about two stories high. I had worked on my escape plan while hiding in the school, and was happy when my hypothesis held true. I jumped down onto a Dumpster, then to the ground. No harm done. I was standing in a small alleyway behind the school, and saw Main Street. I couldn't remember its name, which wasn't important at the time.
Briskly walking towards the main road, something caught my eye, a movement in the shadows. One of them, go go go! Get out of here! I didn't hesitate. But halfway down the dark alley there was another movement, and another. One of them came into the light, staggering as if it had a broken leg or was drunk. I stopped, just long enough to look at it, before I bashed its head in with my pipe. Don't waste TIME! You must get going. Running again, I finally made it to the sidewalk of Main Street. I looked around and saw a small group of them about 40 feet away and a larger about 25 feet away. I had no intentions on getting into a situation where I had no escape or defense because this lead pipe was only a lead pipe, not an Uzi. I glanced down the street in the direction that I was headed, and saw only a few stragglers. You can dodge them, don't get too close. Ok, so that was where I was headed.
This first "thing" was to the left side of the street just off of the sidewalk, I broke out into a dead sprint on the right side. He hobbled a few steps toward me, but gave up as soon as I was about 15 feet away from him. One down, two to go. The next one was in the middle of the road. Again, I stuck to the right side, running at a dead sprint. After I passed him, I turned around to see if he was following, and oddly enough, he didn't move. Eerie...-Who cares? Get moving! The third and final monster was back an alley I needed to take in order to get to the gun shop. I would have to dispose of him or her, for that matter, and continue on my journey.
Pipe raised, I walked over to the opposite side of the road, and prepared to swing. I wasn't close enough, because I missed. You fool! It turned around and I backed away, terrified. It looked like a fresh one, and through its decay, it was still recognizable. No...it can't be. No NO NOO! I'm so sorry. It wasn't my fault. I was scared, I ran. NO. Memories came rushing in, no matter how hard I resisted. We were laughing, a whole group of us. That was just three days ago. No, Don, I'm sorry. SNAP OUT OF IT! Back to real time, Donald was closing in. I raised my pipe, swung, and made contact. I heard a wet sound as the pipe cleanly took off his head.
"Rest now," I whispered, feeling the tears come. I fought them off and made it to the gun shop without running into another monstrosity that was formerly human. I noticed a heavy-looking metal shutter covering all of the windows from the inside, and the door was locked. Great, wait, what about that pipe of yours? The pipe, surely it would knock the doorknob off. As I had predicted, it did. I was inside in no time.
"Some gun shop," I said to myself while looking around at the small store. Model guns hang on the wall, but that's all that stood out. I picked up a small model of a handgun on a nearby shelf. Great, nothing will mess with you now. You have a fake gun. The sarcasm in my thoughts made me wonder whether or not I was schizophrenic. I've been talking and thinking to myself for days. I had arguments inside my head, and kept myself together that way. Schiz or not, you need to find a gun. A more thorough search of the small store resulted in a handgun and a rifle. Luckily, there were papers that provided the specifications of each firearm. The handgun was a standard 9mm Baretta. It used 9mm rounds, of course. I had found a box of bullets and examined them closer. Perfect! Thirty nine-millimeter rounds were neatly contained in it. The rifle was a semi-automatic .22 caliber with a full clip. Forty shots altogether. I should make it to safety, wherever that may be. I slung the rifle over my back and pulled the slide back on the 9mm. Once I heard a nice and solid click, I was back outside.
I hadn't realized how peaceful it was in the small shop until I was on the streets of my small town. Hearing the moans of the undead made me shudder and I almost wanted to go back inside and just hide. No. You hid for days in the school. Now it's time to survive. I looked around as I took a step and was overcome by a strange feeling. It felt so familiar, yet I wasn't sure why. I snapped out of my strange trance when I heard shuffling nearby. I knew what it was. Looking in the direction of the noise, I saw the zombie. No, don't waste your ammo. Leave now. As I jogged in the other direction, I noticed the zombie turn and start after me, and then it stopped. Thirty-five feet down the road; I turned into another alley. The main roads are too dangerous. Stick to the alleys, but keep your guard up. I scanned the dark asphalt pathway while tensely grasping my Baretta. Wait, before you go wandering off, you need a game plan. A game plan, easier said than done. What I really needed was to get out of town, to live. But that was also easier said than done. I decided to worry about my next move once I got through the formidable alley. Keeping my Baretta trained on the shadows, I slowly stepped into the darkness. What I wouldn't give for a flashlight right now.
About fifteen paces into the alley, I heard a clicking noise coming from my high right side. I had no idea what it was, but I figured it was just a chain or something dangling out of the window. Five steps later a heard a sort of whoosh and the clicking had transferred to my left side. The brick seemed to amplify the sound. I swung my handgun in the direction of the noise, but the building behind me, leaving that spot in shadow, blocked the moonlight out. CALACK! The sound came from directly in front of me, and in a split second the gun was pointing at it. What I saw was indescribable. The head resembled a human's, but that was about it. Its body looked like it had been turned inside out. Internal organs were exposed, and its brain was on top of its head. It stood on all fours, and its feet had claws protruding from them.
All of that information took less than a second to process. I opened fire on the creature, aiming for the head. The first two missed, but the third and fourth hit their target. It screamed wildly, but I wanted to be sure so I fired two more rounds into its vulnerable head. Its body went limp, and when its mouth opened up a long tongue drooped to the ground. That creature was like nothing I've ever seen before. This had to be some kind of cruel joke.
Suddenly, my main objective changed from surviving to finding out what was going on. Call me stupid, but at that moment I would have rather died than not know.
That moment was just that, a moment. After I came to my senses and the blood slowed its thumping in my head, I decided that survival was my only option. I couldn't go on a one-man crusade to get to the bottom of the problem because, hell, I could barely survive. Not many things were certain at that moment, except the fact that I was standing in front of an apartment building, and I was hungry. Along with all of the noise that I just created getting inside would probably be a good idea. I decided to see what I could find in the small complex. Walking toward the entrance, I was suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of panic. My gaze darted left to right, but I found nothing life-threatening. Still, I was in a state of hysteria, so I did the only thing I could, I ran. I sprinted across the well-kept yard and threw myself into the building. I slammed the door behind me and took a look around.
I was in a small corridor with a set of stairs directly in front of me. To my left and right were doors that presumably led to each apartment. I decided to try the door to my left, but to my disappointment, was locked. The door on the right was locked as well. I started up the stairs to the final two doors in the room, my gun trained on the one on the left. Apartment "113" read the sign on the door, and I mentally crossed my fingers as I turned the knob. The full rotation of the doorknob released all of the stress from my body, but I was quickly filled with a fresh wave. I was yet again entering unknown territory, and had to concentrate on making sure this room was safe.
I let my surroundings soak in, studying each area of the cramped apartment. I slapped my hand against the wall and slid it around to find the light switch. Bingo! The lights flickered on, giving the room an eerie ambiance. I looked around the room and concluded that this was the living room of the apartment. Off slightly to the right was a door, and further right was a small hallway. I stood next to a couch or futon of some sort and directly ahead of me was a TV. Great, maybe you can catch an episode of Friends while you're here. I was beginning to think I lost my inner voice back when I jumped the fence.
Okay, first thing's first, I needed to find a bathroom. I decided to try the closest door to me, which one happened to be the one next to the television. My instincts must have been working for me again because that door was the bathroom.
After finishing my "duties," I decided to grab a bite to eat and see if I could find something that would stabilize this wound of mine. A quick search of the apartment's kitchen gave me a bag of Doritos and a half-eaten sandwich. I found a bottle of Gatorade, of all things, in the fridge. I love Gatorade.
After I was finished with my lavish meal, I headed back to the bathroom to see if I could scrounge up some gauze or a bandage. Inside the vanity I only found various bottles of pills and other creams. Hey, maybe you could find some deodorant or something while you're in there. I noticed that I did smell pretty bad, but pleasing those creatures out there with my fancy bottle of Stetson Cologne wasn't really on the top of my to-do list. Ah, here we go, a nice cotton bandage. This should keep my cut under control. I took my rifle off my back so I could wrap the bandage around my shoulder.
As I started out of the bathroom, a giant wave of fatigue hit me like an 18-wheeler on a freeway. I staggered over to the couch and let my body fall limp into the cushions. Can't find the damn remote.... That was my last thought before I slipped into a deep slumber.
The noise of a car horn woke me from my nap. It must have been a while since I fell asleep because the daylight was creeping through the half-drawn blinds. I walked over to the window to find the source of the noise, and was astonished. Order returned, civilization was back to normal, and there were no zombies. There were no creatures whose organs were exposed; there were no more screams of the dying. Instead, there were people passing by, cars stopping and going through the traffic of their morning commute. Children were heading to school, briskly walking so they wouldn't be late. Even the apartment that I had deemed my temporary home was different. It was somehow more pleasant. It was inhabitable. And to my amazement, I found the remote. I decided to make the most of the moment and turned on the TV. I walked back over to the window and just admired the beauty of the world. It was something I hadn't really noticed before. It's funny how certain things in life go unnoticed until they are actually missing. I opened the window to get a nice breath of fresh air, something I hadn't experienced in what seemed like decades. I could hear the distant sounds of children playing, their laughter like beautiful symphony compared to the moans that had haunted my world and my thoughts just hours ago. Then a rather important question entered my mind. One word: How? How did this happen? How is everything back to normal? How-
BOOM The abrupt sounds of an explosion on the television woke me from my nap. Wow, just a dream. Just as fast as peace was brought to me, it was taken away. Now I was back to dealing with screams of the dying and those mindless creatures the feed for human flesh. Now I had the "joy" of fighting for my life. I walked over to that same window, and looked at the same yard of the same apartment complex. No traffic, no kids, no laughter. But I did notice three of those same creatures heading towards the entrance of the very building I was in. They can't find me here. There's no way they can find me in here-Oh really? How are you so sure about that? How do you know that they can't smell you already?
No reason to stay and find out. I walked straight to the door and swung it open. It slammed behind and I broke into a sprint. I ran down the stairs and through the exit. I met the group just outside of the apartment building, lowered my head, and tackle the smallest of the three. She fell over and I kept running; I didn't look back.
The morning news was far different than it had been in a long time in this small town. People hadn't known fear like this in what seemed like forever. There were reports of a one man killing spree. Apparently he had broken into the local school over the weekend. When police came to investigate he was nowhere to be found, but had left evidence of a struggle. Groups of people had seen him break out into a frantic sprint on the streets before he entered a back alley where they then heard gunshots. Police made their way down the alleys where the teen had broken into a gun store and shot one of the neighbors dog. A family had been coming back from dinner only to have their child be tackled by this man. Reports say she luckily walked away from the situation with a broken shoulder. Police are willing to give a money reward to anyone who can give hints about this teens whereabouts. He should be considered armed and dangerous.
A Memoir from Rye
I hath for ye scurvy swine a proper buccaneers' tale.
It begins with a sorry poxy lad who ventur'd to sea
seekin' ordinary extortion n' pillaging n' ale.
A knavish fool, it must be said, a man of meag'r acuity,
or so mutter'd the flutt'ring gossips of 'is native town, Rye;
the lad was void of a single tunic bequeath'd with East Indian dye.
Dejected n' pitiful, the bloke indulg'd in murky village grog
when an ol' seadog, Cap'n McCullough, bludgeon'd
the tavern's door off its bolts. "Gangway!" shouted the briny hog,
spittin' as he spoke. The lad sat stiff on 'is cold arse, watching the curmudgeon
wrestle grub from anyone in 'is ghastly sight.
"I'll flog the next landlubber who dares test me might!"
Our fabled lad, whom all but the vermin thought a craven,
was perch'd a wee bit woozily from the pints he 'ad sucked down
'is gullet. With a swing of 'is arm, he protest'd, "Avast! Ye with a mug laden
with colly n' armpits of a heifer's asse! Belay yer prattle n' piggish sound-
save yer ruckus for the clams." As the din settl'd, the ol' Cap'n said,
"Aye ye scalawag, there be a Black Spot on yer head!"
The mead 'ad calm'd the young lad's nerve,
'n with a haughty chortle, he utter'd a pungent retort:
"Alas, the rotten sack o' barnacles perturbs
us all with a breath reeking of the low tide port."
Beguiled by the lad's audacity, McCullough nearly falter'd,
but quickly erupt'd in a hoarse bellow: "It'll be yer throat in me Hemper's Halter!"
With that, the old salt lunged n' drew 'is crook'd cutlass.
"Thar be a place in me bait bucket for yer skewer'd soul,"
the Cap'n shout'd, advancing shark-like n' of bloody purpose.
"Codswallop! I'll banish ye back to the curs'd atolls,"
exclaim'd the upstart, who pull'd a dagger from und'r 'is belt
n' pray'd a fatal blow to the scoundrel be dealt.
The dissonance in ye olde humble tavern increas'd tenfold
as many a stool and peasant alike were knock'd to the filthy groun'.
McCullough rais'd the gnarly blade n' 'is deadlights flash'd cold,
but the dexterous lad evaded the blow, spiting the Cap'n's renown.
A second swing sliced through nothing but air,
n' the ol' corsair was flummox'd: how well the boy did fare!
Heavin' from 'is reckless efforts, the Cap'n's tempo slow'd.
'Is arms deaden'd from fatigue's clasp, n' agony puls'd throughout
"Yer stench'll fit Davy Jones's locker-yer soul's new abode,"
n' the lad charg'd forth, plunging 'is stiletto to end the blood-draught.
Betwixt the ribs n' through the heart, the blade tore flesh asunder.
"ARRRG," cried the rout'd McCullough, now bankrupt of days to plunder.
The townsfolk burst into a raucous cheer n' shower'd the victor
with hearty praise. Shillings were toss'd n' ale consum'd
n' maidens offer'd betrothals. But the lad jus' stood o'er the cadaver,
the crimson pool 'is mirror. The people of Rye couldn't exhume
a heart so darken'd by their own jeers; for t'was merely a year
before I went on the account n' pillag'd the town as a buccaneer.
Music - tootsie110
Written by Will Cooper (Coop)
The scene pans out over verdant grassland. Lying amongst the long grass on a hillside is a young man, no older than 25, his sword driven into the turf about halfway up the blade, while he lies there, his right leg draped across his bent knee. In the morning sun, the detail of the blade is quite obvious, with a "swoosh" running from the cross-guard almost to the point, following the curve of the blade (see the curvature of a scimitar) while the hilt is criss-crossed with leather, tightly bound for grip. The young man gazes up at the clouds, their patterns ever changing in the sky, as the sun wheels overhead, silhouetting a flock of birds
(0.54) All of a sudden, the light glints off the blade, into his eyes. Time has marched on and he must have fallen asleep. He wakes with a start, rubbing his eyes, sleepily.
Sitting up, he notices two men sparring in the valley below. Drawing his sword from the ground and sheathing it at his side, he walks down the hill nonchalantly, towards the combatants. They continue to clash blades, sparks flying from the swords, as one after the other, ripostes and flourishes are met with dazzling parries.
As we approach, we see the first swordsman, an older, more distinguished looking man. He is tall and muscular, his figure balanced and graceful, topped by a head of brown hair, greying at the temples. The hair is cut close to his scalp at the sides, with little spikes rising atop. The younger man, unlike his opponent, seems flustered and a little clumsy; his figure, still bearing some boyish charms to it looks a little unfit and even slightly chubby. He is not as fit as the older man and is tiring, though he does show great spirit. The older man has the clear advantage at this point, as the young man is tiring and looks slightly red in the face, panting for breath.
(1.15) The young swordsman slips, still keeping his blade up in defence, as he falls to the ground. A wry smile creeps across the face of the veteran, who brings the sword overhead, ready to strike downwards, with what would surely be a killing blow. As this happens, we look at the older man, as a lone cloud passes over the sun, darkening the scene.
(1.27) The veteran's sword descends and our hero steps in, drawing his blade and meeting the downward strike, defiantly, as muscles tense and sparks fly. As this happens, the crescendo and the drums hit their peak of the first drum roll.
The swordsman looks to his side and regards his opponent sternly, as they lock eyes for a few seconds, gauging one another, for signs of weakness. With the drum sections here, swings of the swords are met and parries are held for dramatic effect, as necessary, not stopping the fight, but merely pausing for a split second. Neither man looks entirely at ease, but our hero is prepared for this, unlike the young man he has stepped in front of to protect.
While this happens, the younger swordsman crawls away from the fight, off shot (if required), giving himself a chance to catch his breath. He plants his sword in the ground and is seen breathing heavily later on in the piece, as this second fight continues. The veteran aims a sweeping kick at our hero, who back flips out of the way, keeping his eyes on the blade of his opponent.
(2.20) As quickly as the fight had started, it ends, with the blade of our hero pointed at the midriff of the veteran. He jumps back from indication of a killing blow, rolling his lower lip and nodding his head once, in admiration. As his opponent withdraws, our hero stabs the tip of his blade into the ground, before presenting the knuckles of a bunched fist to the palm of his left hand, curling the fingers over the fist, in respect. The veteran merely nods, with his cape flapping gently in the breeze behind him. To his left, the younger swordsman stands up, applauding, before drawing his sword and walking off behind his master. The cloud passes from in front of the sun, bringing the sunlight back and the camera pans out, back over the fields of grass, swaying in the breeze, with their strange patterns of various shades of greens and silvers.
I know that the music isn't quite long enough for this piece, but that's where poetic licence comes in. Start and end with the sound of a gentle breeze and rustling of grass. Bring the track in when you feel it is right in the intro, bearing in mind that the intro is quite long. Once it fades out at the end, the sound of the breeze can say a lot, without compromising the piece for a lack of music.
A lot of inspiration for this has come from Final Fantasy, but try not to make it entirely a FF piece, it's better than that and the music deserves something good to air it with.
The elder gods look upon their subjects and grin, shimmering like dirtied mirrors do these reflective waters bring forth the new child. Upon a populace of dirt, before we knew there could be such a thing as end times. God & Goddess had rejoiced and sung in consummating such new flesh. It only took a thousand sacrifices by the tribesmen, of not only the first born but of the first love and first father; there lies no grandparents or children among the slaves. The first ritual, Halowe'en, was very different back then. Imagine the language of cavemen translated for today.
It was like a different planet without any distinct shapes, like vortexes or snakes at constant move. There were tribes and shaman -just as they remain- in constant flux without ever being whole or for that matter full. Then these Gods had found them, gave them ritual, and now everything had a meaning. Such as rabbit being devoured signified a dim light, a murder which was a falling star, and fuckery was an indescribable act; it was the entire universe and could never be one thing, but could be anything from the most grand to puerile. One night, this one, will be one such attempt at representing that great thing.
Before these Gods nothing was ever as magnificent, to describe them would be as lovely as a sewing machine and umbrella on an operating table. Looming, filled with heat, a million eyes and tongues, like faces built with divine arachnids. Flesh like marble and bat wings and hair like bejeweled daggers and assholes as large as caves. Their home was behind the mountains, shrouded by clouds and warned off like insolents thrown to the ground like shredded toothpicks.
God & Goddess had used a thousand lives for a primitive fusion, mixing so many lives and their passions together like the young discovering painting. One iconic image; two children lowered down into a pit of fuckery. At last, through brute force and tired hands they have made a child.
Pink flesh sacks gnawed open by backwards teeth, pools of saliva by the wayside, still fresh and il-formed, with distended head and belly, stout frame and slurred speech and several rows of teeth without the accompanying mouths. The umbilical chord lead to its ass, when it was cut thunder rocked the skies as it let out a squeak. They who shall be known as Heliogabalus, without brother or sister for they are one and will never be separate from the people. They will always treasure the new born, it will be their gift from the gods and they will hope eternally for evermore.
The tribes rejoice, the new born is helped to stand and utters nonsense, stuttering like a drunk berated by the young. God & Goddess step away now; in frenzy they pull the little one apart. A great feast for many, so much that they regurgitate and begin anew. A never-ending food source, they will never know hunger again.
Title: Smell of Freedom
Music by SSJDre
0:00-0:04: A man in an orange overall (A.K.A A Prisoner) digs a hole under a prison fence, crawls under the fence and starts running away.
0:04-0:08: The prisoner sprints away from the prison till the prison is out of sight
0:08- 0:32: The prisoner takes off his overalls, finds a rock, and starts bruising and cutting himself. He then keeps running until he finds a road and lays on his belly. The prisoner hides a rock under his belly.
0:32-0:48: A car stops infront of the prisoner, a man runs out of the car to check on the prisoner, and when the man gets close enough, the prisoner hits him in the head with the rock he was hiding. The prisoner takes the unconscious man's clothes and keys for his car.
0:48-1:12: The man starts driving south and after ten seconds of driving, he ditches the car. The prisoner finds an unlocked car, and hot wires it. The prisoner starts driving again and notices that the police found his old car. While looking at the police, the prisoner accidently hits a light pole. The prisoner gets knocked out because he wasn't wearing his seat belt.
1:12-1:20: The prisoner has a weird dream, and wakes up
1:20-1:33 The prisoner wakes back up in a solitary confinement cell, and thinks if trying to escape was worth it or not.
"Would you kindly..."
The blaring of alarms was deafened by the sounds of industry and wind as Derrick sped upwards. The pipe-lined cylindrical maintenance shaft spun all around as he started stabilizing the craft he was piloting. The thing was larger than the usual mine-trawlers, and unlike them it was jet-propelled instead of attached to a track. He didn't have time to think of its other differences as he had to figure out how to fly the thing or wind up ending his escape when it's barely begun.
With some effort he leveled the trapezoidal ship and slowed it down in time to begin maneuvering around some pipeworks that poked out from the shaft wall. He started to get a feel for it when the pipe obtrusions ahead meshed into inconvenient barricades. Not confident in being able to fly through the small openings between the pipes Derrick looked over the console and found what looked like a plasma torch activator on a trawler.
"Let's see what you got." Derrick pushed the button, gripping the yoke before pressing the triggers on either side. From the front of the ship two yellow spheres fired out and the pipe wall ahead exploded into scrap. Rather delighted by this discovery Derrick fired off an endless stream of energy balls while flying through the ensuing debris.
He didn't have long to enjoy this mindless shooting as three sentinel drones flew in from some auxiliary tunnels, their red sensor cameras focusing on his joyride.
"Crap; forgot about these guys."
Still speeding upward Derrick pulled back slightly and lined up his ship with each drone before firing a burst from his guns, the drones exploding as easily as the pipes. Almost immediately after more sentinel drones arrived but Derrick kept firing, not giving them a chance to get within twenty yards of him. Farther ahead drones began lining up in a variety of formations and started firing yellow energy at Derrick as they approached. He responded in kind with his own shots while dodging the enemy fire and doing sweeping runs over the different formations.
Eventually a massive drone with gun batteries on each side of its sensor camera arrived and held position some distance away from the speeding Derrick. After a field scanning the super drone began firing off streams of bullets and energy balls all aimed at the troublesome ship. Cursing at the sudden bullet curtain now coming at him the hapless slave-worker-turned-pilot did his hardest to avoid the tracking fire while delivering some his own, which didn't seem to be as effective as with the small fry. The barrage was relentless and the damn thing even changed its attack pattern after a while.
A sudden blast erupted from the drone's control casing and sent it plummeting to the shaft walls in a fiery explosion, ending the bullet storm. Floating in from the side a child wearing a mining officer's uniform with a cap and goggles took the spot of the drone and hovered in place as things became slow and ominous from Derrick's perspective.
"A kid? The hell??"
The Child gave a creepy smile right when a spear of green energy materialized and fired at Derrick's ship, followed by some others in a fast-paced rhythmic sequence. Derrick yanked the ship all over the shaft to avoid the spears, coming to the realization that they were somehow being conjured by the bizarre person before him. He didn't have time to think further about it as the sequence of energy spears only had split-second breaks between barrages. The spears kept coming and Derrick kept dodging while the Child remained floating ahead of the ship.
Eventually the Child raised a hand and Derrick's ship was surrounded by a transparent blue sphere in an instant. A faint ephemeral tether connected the sphere to the Child, who began floating away from the ship which to Derrick's surprise followed as well. Finding himself dragged by the freak kid Derrick tried slowing and pulling the ship away but the controls had become heavy and slow to respond as though hindered by the Child's sphere of influence.
Derrick saw that the Child was pulling his ship further up only to duck into an auxiliary shaft which led into the wide steam-filled airspace of the subterranean foundries. Still looking at him with that same creepy smile the Child plunged toward the external machinery of the foundries and started weaving amidst the pistons and ventilation stacks. Realizing what the kid was trying to do Derrick strained to have the ship oppose the pull of the tether, the side thrusters flaring up to help the sluggish vessel avoid the industrial obstacles.
Suddenly the Child shot upward with Derrick in tow toward the cavern ceiling and into a very narrow auxiliary shaft. The freak of nature pulled the ship at a ridiculous speed and floated around in trying to swing Derrick into the shaft walls. Derrick pulled and strained to keep the ship away from the walls but the cramp spacing made it difficult to avoid occasional scrapes and bumps. After a sharp upward turn into a slightly larger adjacent shaft Derrick decided to try shooting the punk for a change. To his frustration the shots were swiftly evaded by the grinning menace. Derrick then noticed a flashing missile icon on the console, and seeing no better options he pressed it. From the ship a small missile shot forth and not surprisingly the Child rose to let it pass. Unluckily for the Child they had neared the end of the shaft and the missile collided and detonated on the wall right when they got there, catching the Child in a cloud of smoke and fire.
Briefly blinded by the explosion Derrick and the ship went headlong not into metal but through a newly-formed opening. Once through the smoke and debris the ship shot out from the side of a mountain peak and into open sky, the encapsulating sphere gone. Before and below Derrick were breathtaking sights of nearby peaks, above-ground installations in the valley below, and something that Derrick hadn't seen in many long years: The rise of the morning sun over the distant horizon. Before he could take in more of the surface world his view was obstructed by the return of a somewhat worse-for-wear Child who was hefting several tons of uprooted earth over their head.
"For fuck's sake!"
The Child tossed the chunks of dirt over at Derrick who immediately plunged the ship downward to avoid them. As earth rained all around him Derrick zipped and dodged amidst the aerial dirt avalanche, occasionally blasting smaller squares of the stuff just to make room to fly from the larger ones. As the earth shower began to lighten up the Child unexpectedly appeared nearby and began firing off green energy like before, giving Derrick something else to dodge along with the maelstrom. Deciding to lessen the hassle Derrick plunged the ship downward once more to follow the remaining earth chunks. Unfortunately the Child was soon falling alongside him, staring at him intently with an uncovered radiant red eye and firing a shot that Derrick narrowly dodges.
Derrick instantly broke out of the dive and shot straight forward out of the earth shower, the Child following suit seconds later. Finding himself about a kilometer above the valley floor Derrick descended closer to it while pumping the thrusters for more speed. Alas the sensors indicated that the Child was quickly gaining on him, and before he knew it he was swaying around to avoid being blasted by energy. The edge of one energy spear nicked a rear thruster causing it to smoke and the ship to drop to mere yards over the grassy ground.
Fuel alerts going off in the cockpit a flustered Derrick kept the ship going straight toward a power station that was quickly getting closer. The metal gray of the energy conductors and conduits glowed with the orange of the rising sun by the time the ship had arrived. Flying over fields of generators the Child had finally overtaken the ship at the front, and fired a volley of telepathic shots straight at Derrick. Bucking from the attacks Derrick fired some of his own in vain as the Child remained as aloof and freakishly speedy as ever and once again Derrick makes a run for it.
Shortly after passing a brick power house the ship came to a jolting halt and was pulled back, and to Derrick's dismay he saw the Child has once more ensnared him with a transparent blue tether. With one arm outstretched the little monster held the ship overhead in place, and with its other hand began conjuring a sizable energy sphere for the finisher. Unable to even nudge the ship from its position Derrick became anxious at his impending end, but then he noticed that the building he had passed earlier was not far from the Child's back.
Again with no other options and figuring that it worked once before Derrick pushed the missile launch button. A missile fired from the ship and sailed over the Child and shortly after made impact with the building, which split in two, collapsed and nothing more. Seeing this mild bit of devastation the Child looked up into Derrick's face and smiled mockingly. As Derrick cursed at the kid's smugness he noticed a flare of sparks around the wreckage of the building that quickly started to spread to outlying generators. When the Child turned and took notice of the event several groups of generators erupted with electricity and in a chain reaction culminated into a massive EMP blast.
The force of the explosion was further increased by the eruption of more generators, creating a vast shockwave that smashed into and engulfed both the Child and Derrick and knocked them away accompanied by blinding white. The white flash of the blast faded away slowly and following the lingering sparks of some of the destroyed generators the power yard fell silent as the light of the sun was blotted out by smoke from the nearby crash site of Derrick's ship.
I stare into a pool of water, of liquid glass, the darkness of night turning it into a fine lake of merlot. In the wine's dim reflection I see a massive battle taking place just behind me. And still I stare into the inky pond.
A man, whom I know quite well, is fighting desperately. I remember my memories of him; I remember when I beat him at seven games of poker, right in a row; I remember him raising me; I remember his strength; I remember the first time he had saved my life, when the things had first attacked me, twelve years ago; I remember sparring with him last week, and knowing that his abilities were rapidly fading with age; I REMEMBER.
Yet, I cannot help him. He dies, slaying one of them before using his body to shield me from a barrage of slashes. I never move once when this occurs. I want to cry out, to shed my sadness loudly, to do something, yet my task is of the utmost vitality. So, I never move, still staring deeply into the water.
I see another, a girl my age. I never liked her, thought she was a pompous twit, yet here she is. She is first using a gun, and swiftly transitions to an oversized blade when the former runs dry out of lead. She is strong, yet I know in my heart of hearts that she will die all the same. My prediction is proven correct when one of the monsters grabs her blade with a green hand and twists the entire weapon into a knot. In three seconds, she, too, is reduced to a corpse.
I see another figure, unlike the others. He is somehow staring directly into my eyes from the reflection, and tears are streaming down his face. His short hair rustles when mine does, and I realize that he is me.
His mouth stretches into a strained grin, and his low murmurings cease. At this point, some sort of liquid must break the surface of the pool, yet I must not move. The problem is solved when a tear droplet falls from my nose, into the lake.
A power spell has many problems with it, as if to insure that no one will ever use one. The pros of using one are numerous, as one of the many powers granted involves being able to resurrect bodies that have been dead for less than four minutes.
However... the user doesn't just die when the spell is finished. His existence is utterly erased from this world.
I volunteered to do this...
Yet, I feel that I have an obligation to do this...
ah... well... it'll pass soon...
In writing life, the writers life is erased.
An person does not die until their reverberations in this world are stilled forever.
I am... immortal.
A number of people are staring into a lake.
Among them are the un-dead.
They remember dying.
They remember the pain.
But they don't remember their savior.
Yet they are crying.
Mourning... their forgotten heroes.
http://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/1 10798A beautiful plain
A beautiful plain, on a world far away. Come with me on the dragonfly's back, together we will take the fast lane. Climb on the back of this dragon-fly-fly, come take my hand and then we will brave the sky.
See, it's not hard. Are you ready to fly? See the reeds bend as we are starting to join the sky. This is our dragon, magnificent beast, see how its cyan scales sparkle in the su-huuuuuuuun.
Hold on tight, my friend, our beloved dragon here loves to make sudden loops. Fly, little dragonfly, fly, fly, fly.
Look all around you. It's a thing to behold, shooting through the landscape like a sapphire bullet. Grab a handful of golden grains, lovely lavender, or perfectly shaped peaches. Take a quick bite, it tastes so sweet, and grab a handful. Embrace the fields, but be quick, we have other things to explore.
Can you feel the clear, cool water? The soft sensation as it rushes past your skin? See the turtles, the goldfish, and the colourful shrimps? Lets leave this stream behind, shall we?
Take a whiff of the forest ahead. Can you smell the scent of the pine trees? The great odour of fresh and clean nature. Smells don't linger, nor do we. Let's dive in!
Zigzag around the pine trees. See the chipmunks and the squirrels and all the forest critters jump across the branches in a united rhythm? Hear hopping up and down as we weave from left to right? Can you see the sea of black stripes as we flow past?
I wonder what the caves have to offer. Wave goodbye to our forest friends for now. Sense the soft and tranquil breeze in this, welcome to the cave of wonders. Ha! I can see your jaw drop in amazement. These wonderful crystals set the whole cave alight in a explosion of colours. An underground mine of priceless gems, spread across the whole cave. Lets go up again, skyyyyyyyyyyyyyyward. Our dragon friend has read our minds again, reach for the skies again.
Ah the skies, filled with thousands of birds and bugs. Majestically gliding like the eagles do, or calmly buzzing along like the other dragonfly-flies. Not a cloud in the sky, just us and the birds. Ahw, look right there; it's a cute baby pigeon spreading its wings for the first time. We might see it again once he's older. But we have to keep going now. See the sun? Stretch your arms and you might just grab it as it falls down the horizon. Falling, faster and faster and faster and... Quick!
Night is falling, our friend needs to sleep. Let's go back the way we came: back through the caves, with the beautiful rainbow gems, back through the forest with the agile animals, through the cool lake with the pristine water, and over the wide and fertile fields. Back to where we left from: our warm nest in the grass, where the fireflies keep our dreams safe.
The Darkside of Star Fox: Battle on Talosmar
Talosmar. A lush planet in a lawless region of the galaxy, covered vast oceans and seemingly never-ending landmasses, seemed to be the only place of galactic stability in the Strattus System. However, on this day, that was all about to change.
A massive circular space-station, with a hull forged from white durasteel, has been orbiting the planet for months. Today, however, would be the day that it would turn on its maker. A large projectile was launched from its surface, colliding with a coastal area of a continent and creating a massive explosion that could be seen from the inside of the station itself. A green-scaled tyrant, one ruthless and twisted, grinned as he saw the destruction that he intentionally caused.
A commander, clad in spiked appeal, spoke to him. "General Scales, we have made contact. The city has been completely razed, as ordered."
"I see that, Commander," Scales replied. "Release the troops onto the surface, disable their communications and leave no citizen alive, except for the target. Bring her to me, unharmed. Understood?"
"Ye-yes sir..." the commander stuttered in a grave tone as he began to walk away.
Scales smiled again, knowing that his revenge was nearly complete.
*** (Screen fades to black, the words 'One week later...' appears in its place. Second location and scene begins.)
One week later...
A lone, white furred vixen was sitting behind a steel dumpster in an alleyway. Her short black hair is soaked from the pouring rain that has been falling for hours now. Her onyx combat uniform is stained with the little bit of blood that hasn't been washed away by the weather. Only two weapons are at her disposal. A single silver-colored blaster and a blue-tinted sword, engraved with runic letters on the blade and with jade embedded in it's hilt. Both are concealed within her dark-as-the-night overcoat.
The city around her used to be glorious, a shining example of galactic wealth and civilization. But within a week, it had been transformed into a bitter war zone. Not a single structure that she could see was entirely intact. So many innocent lives have been lost, so much of her hope has faded.
'Why did this have to happen?' she thought in a bitter manner. 'How could I not have seen the truth that was right in front of my damn eyes? They betrayed everyone... killed them all to cover their own asses. All my friends... dead... no one... is alive but me...'
She began to cry as she sat in the alleyway, feelings of hopelessness further manifested themselves within her.
She looked up at the shrouded sky, even though it was raining a massive space station could clearly be seen beyond the clouds. It was so close to the planet's surface that it was covering almost a sixth of the visible atmosphere.
'They're not going to retreat,' she pondered to herself again. 'Their invasion must be stopped. I don't have any other choice but to fight back... even if it kills me.'
Taking the blaster from inside her coat pocket with her right hand, she stood up and peered carefully around the alleyway. On the road she could see a small squadron of twenty soldiers, surrounding a onyx-chromed landmaster. She checked to make sure that her blaster had enough charges in it to deal with the incoming troops. The number thirty-seven was displayed on the rear of the blaster in digitized, red lettering.
Before she could think about anything else however, a solider pointed in her general and shouted. "Over there! I think I saw someone!"
Cursing under her breath, she ran out of the alleyway and took cover behind a blown out hovercraft. Several shots were fired in her direction, all of which were deflected by the debris. She broke her cover for a split second while firing three well placed shots. The first two struck a single soldier in the chest, while the latter blasted through another one's kneecap, causing him to cry out in agony and fall to the cold concrete. She knelt behind the tarnished machine again as a stray shot grazed her shoulder. The fury of blaster shots that came her way tore the roof off of the already severely damaged hovercraft.
'Dammit, I'm getting nowhere like this,' She cursed inside. 'I've got to push through the line.'
The Darkside of Star Fox: Battle on Talosmar Part 2
Focusing all of her energy within herself, she kicked the hovercraft from the side. The force of her incredible strength caused the debris to fly through the air, it landed about fifteen feet away from her, crushing several soldiers in it's wake as it smashed into the concrete. While the remaining hostiles were slightly stunned, she withdrew her sword from its confinement and ran up to the nearest grunt. Eyes that were filled with horror started at her as she stabbed him in the upper body, piercing his heart.
At this time, the nine remaining soldiers drew their secondary melee weapons, realizing that their blaster rifles were useless against such a skilled foe. She simply smiled as she tilted her blade horizontally in front of her in a somewhat taunting manner. Three of the front-men ran towards her furiously, all of them were holding their blades at different angles. The one to her left tried to strike first, however she side-stepped the messy, vertical swing and grabbed her attacker by the neck. He dropped his sword as the other two ran up to her, swinging their weapons around wildly. Her victim cried out with pain as his two comrades accidentally slashed him in the back from behind. Using their dismay to her advantage, she rolled around them both and grabbed a hold of them by their uniforms. With her back flat on the concrete, she forced both of them into the air with her feet, causing them to fly directly into a blast that was fired by the landmaster.
'Shit,' She cursed inside as she saw the two mercenaries vaporized in front of her eyes. 'I've got to disable that landmaster before it kills me. It would also be quite useful to use it to fight my way out of the city.'
As she stood up, the squad leader, a cougar surrounded by his last five men, spoke to her. "Nikki Grant. If you surrender now, we won't hurt you."
Nikki simply let out a half-hearted chuckle, "Sorry, I'm afraid that I don't make deals with scumbags."
Within the next split second, she withdrew her blaster and fired five consecutive shots, each one caused the cougar's comrades to fall down around him.
"Fine..." The cougar snarled. "I don't care what the boss says, this bitch is mine."
After gesturing for the landmaster pilot to stand down, he withdrew his sword, which was adorned with Onyx-tipped spikes.
Nikki ran towards her last foe, trying to sense a reaction. He took a step back as she made a sweep towards his lower body, which just grazed his left lower leg. He countered with a swift back-kick delivered to Nikki's abdomen. She let out a yelp as she staggered backwards. The cougar laughed, almost barbarically as he swung his sword towards her. However, she had another plan.
With a well-placed kick, she disarmed her opponent. The cougar screamed as he clutched his broken fingers. Nikki lifted him into the air with both hands, placing his back up against the landmaster's cannon.
"You should have been a boy scout..." She smirked.
With fear clearly in his eyes, she slammed his upper body against the landmaster's cannon with so much force that caused him to be impaled on it. He let out a series of gargling screams before he passed out from the pain. Without wasting anymore time, Nikki jumped onto the landmaster, opened up its hatch and killed the pilot inside. She sighed as the hatch closed over her, knowing that she wasn't done yet. It began to rain heavily as she drove the landmaster down a ruined highway, disappearing in the distant mist.
Please note that while this is set within the Star Fox universe, the only OC is Scales. I hope this makes it a valid entry for the contest. Yes, I do realize that animating this will be a challenge. Also, I apologize but I couldn't figure out how to get the HTML to work.
A Fanciful Mind
(0:00 -> 0:17)
From atop its magnificent structure, a figure stands tall to behold the sight in its un-obscured view. The scene opposite to this figure is astonishing. A beautiful carpet of trees masks the ground below for miles. They are tall, thick and usually vibrant with color. However, they are now in the hands of a precarious artist. This artist has taken their shining green and replaced it with a hazy orange. The artist always returns their colors as it leaves the scene though, setting, to rise another day.
Following this trail of trees leads to an abrupt stop. From there, a wide river controls the path, its water creating a bright blue sparkle. That is what you would see had our artist not interfered. However, the eyes of our figure are met by the deep, dark blue that separates the forest from the grasslands which stretch beyond the river as far as the figure can see, fading into the horizon, but not before a few hills are erected which almost seem like a gateway from where the artist leaves the scene.
The sky above is filled with soft white barriers which have shielded the world from our artist's touch throughout the day.
An audible breeze is heard by the ears of the woman atop her structure as it gently flies through her clothes. She breathes in the warm air while admiring the various sounds produced by nature. The birds' tweets blend in with the rustles of the grass. In fact, this melodic mix almost seems like a symphony conducted by Mother Nature. Even the rushing of river waters can be heard from a great distance in this natural, untouched area.
The woman gazes upon the beautiful scene, then turns to look at her own household. Despite its eccentric look, it does not seem to stand out at all in this environment. It is a tall, wooden house which is built deliberately unsymmetrical. It appears to the viewer more like an odd growth in the middle of the forest rather than a man-made home. Even the 50 year old woman standing from its balcony does not give away its natural look. Dressed in a thick brown robe resembling that of ancient monks, only the woman's face is seen. She is rather attractive, despite her white hair. Her blue eyes and clear face convey only one message: She has no regrets.
She closes her eyes as she lets out a relaxed sigh. She is content with the world...
(0:17 -> 2:06)
The woman opens her eyes moments later. Shock overwhelms her as she realizes that she is standing only two meters away from the river she was gazing upon from miles away only moments ago. The river is almost dried up and the water appears quite filthy. It is now night and despite the darkness, she could clearly see the environment around her. Shocked and confused, she jerks her body backwards only to trip and fall on a huge burnt log.
She gathers herself up to witness another shocking sight which paralyzes her body. The reason she is able to see in the darkness of the night is clear now, it is hardly dark at all. The many hundreds of thousands of trees that she was admiring seconds ago are all gone; completely burnt to the ground. Some trees are still ablaze, others merely ash. The pure, beautiful, untouched haven she was staring upon is nothing more than an ugly wasteland now.
She can feel the heat emanating from the fire despite being at least 20 meters away. It starts to rise higher and higher. Her conscious mind tries to run, but her body disobeys. She stares at the monstrous fire, eating away at the remains of the once majestic plain.
Suddenly, the woman breaks out in a coughing fit which knocks her to the ground. It quickly wears off however as she finally regains some control. She turns around to run to the river, the only safe place right now. She is, however, met by an otherworldly sight of a river on fire, the flames crawling over the very waters of the river.
Not making any sense of the situation, she looks around wildly, looking around for any safe place. It seems the fire is growing towards her from all sides. She falls back to the ground as she loses hope of escape and covers her face with her hands; she cannot bear to look at her own death as it approaches.
Suddenly, the woman hears a glimmer of hope. A distant, growing sound of a fire truck! She rises, as does her heart, frantically looking in every direction, searching for her savior.
Her heart begins to sink though, as she sees no cars or trucks anywhere. How could there be cars? She remembers that there have never been any roads anywhere near this area.
She sits back down on the ground and prays for any sort of miracle, perhaps some rain but there is not a cloud in the sky. It takes her a while to realize that only moments ago, before this travesty hit, the sky was full of clouds. This nonsensical sight causes her to break out in tears. She cries and cries. A funny thought crosses her mind for a brief moment: What if her tears could douse the flames? It was odd how such thoughts could penetrate one's mind in their darkest of hours. It, however, gives her a minute smile.
The heat begins to rise once more. It seems to be centered on her left arm. It reaches a point that is no longer bearable. She looks at her arm only to find it ablaze. As this realization hits her, so does the most excruciating pain. She tries to put out the fire to no avail. The woman screams as she runs in circles, flailing her arms around. Having nowhere to run, she falls to the ground, bellowing in agony.
She hopes for the pain to stop, but it only gets worse.
All of a sudden, as if by some convoluted miracle, heavy showers fall which quickly douse all the flames. The feeling of numbness after unimaginable pain is indescribable. The woman closes her eyes, refusing to look at her burnt arm. As quickly and unexpectedly as the rain came, it disappears as soon as the fire dies. She does not attempt to make any sense of the events, she is merely glad to be alive. If she wasn't a believer in God, she would be now.
As she rests on the ground with her eyes closed, she loses consciousness and falls into a deep sleep.
As she wakes up, her eyes are met by a blinding light. She is still in the fire! She jolts upwards in an attempt to run. Her heart begins to furiously pound blood through her body. Seconds pass before her pupils contract and she realizes that the "blinding light" is merely the florescent lights on the ceiling and that she is in a hospital. Her left arm is bandaged. She begins to calm down.
"Oh my! Are you alright ma'me?"
She hears this voice and quickly locates its origin. It is that of a young nurse just entering her room.
"What happened?" asks the woman. "Thank God you're finally awake!" Replies the nurse, "you were out cold for the last 24 hours!"
"What happened?" Reiterates the woman. The nurse tells her in a somewhat perky tone, despite the grim news, "I'm sorry to say this, but your house caught on fire yesterday and suffered much damage. The fire trucks came in just in time though! They found you unconscious on the floor in your balcony and your arm had just caught on fire. You're really lucky you only suffered third degree burns ma'me, who knows what would have happened had the fire trucks not arrived when they did!"
"Unconscious...on my balcony?" asks the woman, mainly to herself as she recollects the events of the previous night.
"But what caused the fire?" asks the woman sternly. "Frankly ma'me, we were hoping you had that answer..." is the nurse's only reply.
A Fanciful Mind
"I..." stops the woman as she once again attempts to make sense of the events of the previous night, "I haven't got a clue"
"It could have been lightning...let me know if you need anything" says the nurse as she turns to leave.
"Lightning..." mumbles the woman as she ponders for a quick second. She suddenly realizes what happened and can't help but let out a soft laugh. She sinks back into her bed, her right hand on her left, bandaged arm in a self hugging pose...
At times we dream but then forget,
was it real or imagined? We can never recollect.
This may *seem* like a long story, but most of it is descriptive of the surroundings and of the character's emotions. Other parts are also added in for the *reader's* pleasure and are not necessary, should this be animated, such as the part where she wakes up in the hospital and attempts to run.
Dialogue is also not necessary, but I found it's the only way to explain things in the form of a story. I think it would be better without any dialogue if it's animated.
I'm a fan of the Tarantino school of scoring, where music is generally used during moments of most tension or action. I've place the link partway through, where I imagine it starting.
Sir Richard White's hauberk, recently polished, shone in the midmorning sun. His surcoat, unadorned and colored pure white after his family's coat of arms, contrasted nicely against the filthy clothes of the ruffians who approached him.
"Good morning." Richard planted himself in the doorframe of his shanty as he nodded to the three grimy knights standing just outside.
"Good Morning!" A large burly knight shouted out with a foolish grin slapped across his face. His immense beard splayed across his chest and his green surcoat with a rooster in profile emblazoned upon it indicated that he was a member of the LeCoq family. "Are you often in the habit of arming yourself to go about your day, sir?"
"Only when I smell treachery...sir," Richard placed his left hand on the pommel of his sword, and the three stopped short.
With his other hand, Richard pointed at LeCoq who stood at the left of the three, "Marion LeCoq," then he pointed at the middle knight, a thin man he was acquainted with wearing a red bear, "Sir Andrew McPherson." He pointed at the last man in the line who wore black and a black helm, which obscured his features, "and you, again. How may I help you, gentleman?"
LeCoq spoke. "Our lord has sent us to silence a braggart, who threatens his interests."
"I am a White, sir, and do not boast. If I claim that the castellan shall be divested of all his properties then it shall be so, and by my hand. Furthermore, I am noting down your presence here, each of you, and I will not forget it. Need I remind you that I am both mayor and sheriff in Brighton? I am well within my rights to take the three of you into custody."
The black knight spoke, his voice muffled by his helm, "in order to arrest us, you would need to disarm three men. I doubt you are so capable."
Pointing towards the black knight, Richard turned to LeCoq, "who is this coward, this...assassin here?"
LeCoq guffawed, puffing out his mustache, which was long enough to cover his lower lip, "wouldn't you like to know!?"
Richard grimaced, his patience wearing thin, retorting, "...wouldn't I like to shave your filthy, stinking face?"
Snarling, LeCoq reached for his sword. Richard was faster, drawing his own and striking LeCoq in a single motion. The tip of the blade deflected off the armor covering LeCoq's chest, just as Richard expected, trimming the filthy knight's beard a few inches and knocking him off balance. McPherson drew his sword and charged Richard, who backed several steps through the entrance of his hut and gouged the red knight's face.
McPherson dropped his sword and clutched his cheek below his left eye as blood welled from a bone-deep wound about four inches long. He collapsed against the door frame bellowing in agony. LeCoq grabbed his shoulder, attempting to drag him to the side. Seeing the door blocked, the black knight lunged forward, driving his shoulder through one of the front windows, smashing the shutter to matchwood, and stretching as far into the room as possibly before swinging his sword at Richard.
Richard flung himself backwards, narrowly avoiding a skull shattering strike to the forehead, but caught it directly in the armored sternum. Several links gave way, but the chain mail held. Richard was clouted such a blow that he was flung head over heels, tumbling over a table and several rough-hewn stools.
Richard was on his feet again almost as soon as he lurched to a stop. LeCoq dragged McPherson aside and the black knight stalked through the door, his shoulders square and sword ready.
Richard stumbled more than dove through the rear window, the black knight at his heels. He landed face first, leaping to his feet once again. The crooked knight aimed one final blow at the back of Richard's head, but misjudged the distance.
Richard leapt onto the back of his unsaddled horse as it stood grazing, directing it toward a thicket by its rope halter. The two of them thundered into the underbrush and disappeared.
Part 1: Hyperglycemia
I'm somehow standing, leaning upon one hand on a particularly cold countertop--Jesus, my legs are numb. Both pantry doors are wide open. Bags of food are carelessly open and haphazardly organized on the shelves. My hand reaches for the food, grabbing blindly for sustenance. The bountiful myriad of sweets and simple carbs spill as my arm brushes over them. My hand automatically inserts the food into my mouth, before swiveling again and dropping as if in a toy claw machine. I can make out the labels on the food. I taste the saccharine treats and dry, salty snacks. The aroma engages me. I place my hand in a bag of crackers. The food rustles and the bag crinkles as the sharp and textured crackers rub against my hand. My senses are intact, but I cannot control my body. I mentally exert myself to force movement; but, no response.
Where the fuck am I? I vividly recall waking--my alarm seemed more importunate than usual; but, that is not what bothered me; I recall the sense of discontent and ominiousness. I recall the horrible traffic on my morning commute to school. I recall the embarrassing exchange between her and me. C'mon what else? I recall her pleasant laughter, her sweet childish voice, her dark daffodil hair. I recall her pouting; her face becomes clear--my god, she's pretty. She looked down and then up before flashing her cute smile once more, asking me--God, my body feels numb, but I can feel an energy. How long have I stood here? The tip-of-the-tongue phenomenon is murder. I am certain of two things thus far: I know I have Type 1 Diabetes, and, my blood sugar level is still rising.
My mental momentum is increasing. My hands rub my face violently. My feet and legs move in unison backwards, then forwards. I tremble and lower my hands and stumble to the nearest chair. I try my damnedest to think! My breathing intensifies and I grow thirsty. The unfamiliar and uncomfortable chair does not clam my trauma, as I lightly convulse. My thinking is unobstructed instantly. Suddenly sober, but still shaking, I scramble to the light switch. Jesus! Why haven't I realized this before? This is not my house.
Where the fuck am I?
My hands console my face aggressively again. The foreign kitchen is messy but not abandoned. This is someone's else house. Why am I here alone, especially during a fucking seizure? I slam my body against the wall and slide down, panting. How did I get here? I quaver quietly and struggle to remember once more.
I anxiously straddle my head and hair before throwing my skull back forcefully. A soft thud and I slump sideways, as my consciousness escapes from me once more.
Part 2: Hypoglycemia
Her hand dabbles and she sticks out her tongue slightly. She is perplexed and looks up at me with a faint smile; She is so pretty.
A soft murmur leaves her lips--what the fuck did she just say?
"I'm sorry--what?" I ask.
"Did I get the right answer..." she responds gently, twirling the pen in her hand.
I feel heavy, a bit dull, struggling to comprehend what is happening. Words try to escape my lips: "What..."
The same perplexed look from before crosses her face. Clearly worried, she asks, "You all right?"
I come to a few minutes later, reclining on her couch, and she is holding my hand, sitting next to me. My head is still heavy and the room is perfectly static, yet I feel as if I am constantly falling; I am gravitating slowly but forcefully, my body is in shambles and the communication between my brain and my body is failing. I am not all right.
I groan as I attempt to sustain my weight on my arms. I prop myself up and incline slightly towards her. My breathing accelerates and I sense a slight numbness on my hand; both of her hands are cupped tightly around my right. Her words now come through surprisingly clear; I can make out her words as I stare at her frantic mouth.
"Oh shit! What's happening? Do I call 911? Please answer! Oh God! Oh--"
I feel funny now. My eyes are open, yet I see black and red; my hearing is fine, but now her soft words are jumbles of discordance and cacophony; my hands are clammy and numb as my weight pins me down; my mouth is drying up but my saliva is acidic and sour. Momentary glimpses of reality graze my perception. I am convulsing and struggling to stand; my instincts are pulling me towards something. I faintly hear my own screaming.
She leaps up towards the phone and I catch her by the wrist. Black grows around me as my sensation falters.
Part 3: No Insulin
A sudden relapse of energy snaps me from unconsciousness. I am still sluggish, but somehow reinvigorated. I proceed to stand--my head is killing me. I rub the back of my head and my hand quickly retracts upon the pain. Thankfully there is no blood, but the ache and my spiking blood sugar is preventing me from grasping reality clearly. I need to inject myself with insulin to unblock my consciousness.
I pace slowly towards the living room. The table is overturned and several papers are scattered about. I vomit painfully upon the sudden impact. The grim reality shatters my foggy amnesia. Oh God--I recall:
"Oh God! I'm calling an ambulance! Wait here!" she yells frightfully. As soon as her body swings towards her objective, I catch her wrist. I forcefully pull her back as I lunge forward and our bodies collide, knocking her onto the square table. I stumble towards her and crash my full weight onto her. The tables overturns under the burden. My body is numb and automatic, run purely by instinct. She kicks and swipes at me, but her efforts are futile under my control. I grasp her neck, lightly at first, before all my power is relocated to crushing and suffocating her. My body trembles again and again as she gags and chokes. She is powerless and her life drops with her hands. I lay on her figure for several moments before convulsing a few more times, struggling to stand, struggling escape. My vision is still blurry and dull as I step towards the counter, in a dense stupor. Mechanically, instinctively, I reach for the food, attempting to restore my sugar level.
Author's note: IF this is picked up for a flash, this is what I have in mind:
The song is split into 3 parts (0:00-1:15, 1:16-1:56, 1:57-end). Part 1 has no dialogue. It shows the narrator/protagonist standing. He is distraught and shoving food into his mouth. He is clearly shaken but his eyes are blank. He begins to snap out of it around 0:40. He is shaking but a bit more composed. He sits down as the music begins to pick up. He knows he's done something bad. When the music of part 1 climaxes he knocks himself out and his consciousness fades with guitar note (1:15)
Part 2: The music is quiet and in the background. /there is clear, spoken dialogue (although a bit different, contact me for a rewrite). When the narrator's sugar level drops, the music and the dialogue becomes a bit distorted. His consciousness fades here and there and it cuts to him on the couch with the girl. When part 3 begins, he grabs her hand and there is a smash cut to part three of the story.
Part 3: He wakes up and gets up. He tries to regain himself and walks towards the living room to see it in chaos. He vomits and is sobered by the sight. Smash cut to part 2 at 1:17 from when he grabbed her hand. He goes crazy and strangles her to death, like the story. The flash ends with the narrator getting up slowly (likes he is drunk) and walks to the counter and gets food as the music fades...
Special thanks to: AudioVision for composing the musical score specifically for this story and working on such a tight deadline; Rianor for originally inspiring the 3 part story (sorry I went in a different direction).
Despite the name, I'm actually good--Deft, and good!
Giving out reviews to anyone who wants them (exception: poems. I'll find you).