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Mwc13: Genre Hopping!

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4urentertainment
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Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 2nd, 2013 @ 02:50 AM

++ ENTRY THREAD ++
DO NOT DISCUSS THE CONTEST IN THIS THREAD. ALL QUESTIONS, CONCERNS AND COMMENTS GO IN THE DISCUSSION THREAD: TO BE POSTED BELOW

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Welcome February's 2013's Monthly Writing Contest: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MWC13 - February - Genre Hopping - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was watching this animation..

  • Animation Transformation
    Animation Transformation by VieRickend

    Mike Southmoor finds a device that transforms himself into other cartoons

    Score
    4.43 / 5.00
    Type
    Movie
    Popularity
    135,305 Views
    Rated
    Everyone

And I really loved how it expressed so many animation styles by one author. Then I saw this where he basically recomposed the Nyan cat song in like a billion different genres. I loved how it plays out the same tune in all these different genres.

So I thought, hmm, would this be possible with writing?

How many genres of writing have you ever written in? Fiction? Non fiction? Comedy? Horror? There's loads of different genres of writing.

So let's try something just a biiiit unconventional.

THEME

The theme is officially "Exploratory Genre Writing". I'm stating it like this to allow you the creative freedom to experiment as you wish. Maybe you're going to write a story that switches genres several times, or maybe flips from the first person, to the second, to the third!

Maybe you're going to tell us a story in the form of an Encyclopedia Article, or a power point presentation. Maybe a poem! Or maybe your entire story will be written as a palindrome!

You can experiment and hop through genres. Since this contest is a bit unconventional, and there's really no "story theme" to stick to, it might be a bit hard to write for. But just focus on having fun, and try to be creative! Do not be afraid to experiment or innovate. There will be special emphasis on creativity in the judging, so even if it doesn't turn out perfect, but it's something new, that'd be awesome :D

RESTRICTIONS

1) Word Count Maximum: 4000 words
2) Story must experiment with genres one way or another
3) Story must be submitted by the deadline below

DEADLINE: March 2nd, 2013; MIDNIGHT STD, EST (ie midnight between March 2nd and March 3rd)

PRIZES

Prizes provided by Newgrounds

1st Place: $25 Store credit
2nd Place: $25 Store credit
3rd Place: $25 Store credit
4th Place: Honorable Mention
5th Place: Honorable Mention

SUBMITTING

1) Post your stories in this thread.
2) Do not post revisions in this thread. They will be deleted.
3) 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

JUDGING

Judges have yet to be announced.

Good luck and have fun experimenting!

4urentertainment
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Jasonpick
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 4th, 2013 @ 09:23 PM

Written by Jason Pick
The Merchant.

A group of merchants traveled through the desert.
they had camels carrying salt and a sky full of buzzards.

The merchants saw a woman walk through the sand.
She struggled to move but then fell but was saved by a merchant man.

The merchant's man's name is Jose...
And the woman's was Rose.

They instantly fell in love.
they were so love struck the buzzards looked like doves.

The merchants and the girl traveled to the trading city
but there journey would be interrupted by a kitty.

The kitty was actually a monster rearing for battle.
One brave merchant said I'm going to hung you on my mantle.

The merchant and the kitty did battle. The merchant easily over powered the kitty form but then he revealed himself as Rose's ex-boyfriend and carried her off. The one merchant sent the others to the city because they were close to the city. He rode a camel not carrying salt and ran to help the love of his life. The merchant slowly began to die for lack of water but then his inner fire keep him alive and ran to the castle of the kitty man.

He tried to scale the wall but the door was open and so he slid down. He fought through the kitty man's guards and then the kitty man or Jay. Jay was easily over powered and ran away. Jose and Rose kissed but then Jose collapsed from exhaustion or lack of water.


good luck.

Lympha
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 5th, 2013 @ 05:36 PM

It was a calm, gray day as Nathan was strolling through the park. The leash tightly wrapped around his right hand, while the other was almost automatically pressing the buttons of his sturdy, old cellphone. He had the thing for ages, but his parents insisted that if he wanted a new one, he had to purchase it from his own pocket. Even though this didn't please him at all, he kind of new his parents were right. He never had a job in his entire life, whereas most of his friend had a supermarket job. Nathan kept pondering these actualities until suddenly a bright ray of light burst through the clouds. It briefly blinded Nathan, as his eyes were fully adjusted to the rather dark environment around him.

The sky scraped apart as it was God, who spoke to Nathaniel. "Thou shalt not keep on living thy life in sloth! For I am thy Father and thou shalt obey my word, as it is thine law!"

Then the clouds just like mashed together or something and it was all dark again, which was really stupid. But it was really cool that God talked to me. I've been praying every day and stuff, well, maybe not every day or at all, actually. But this is still really unexpected, you know? So I like, kept on walking, until I saw like, some bench, because I was kind of shocked, you know. And it was all really heavy and stuff. Plus Vixon was totally going all slow, so there wasn't really a point of going any further.

As he had taken place on the bench, our hero could feel the sweat drip down his back. Like water gently flows down a leaf after a summer rain. It was that moment, that he took note that his loyal companion had gathered energy and was ready to continue the journey they had embarked earlier when they saw the sun went to rest in the west of his vast country.

So he was like, ayo, I'm gonna take this my crib, bro'. He was pullin' that least like it was fucking nothing, mate. So yeah, he was all hyped up after he got that crunk one-on-one with the big G. I'm telling ya man, he was fucking husslin' that mo'fo'. Fo shizzle. But fo' real, that shit was fucking Harry Peter magic sheit man. I ain't gon' lie man, I'm jel as shit on that n*gger, but don't tell 'em bro, I don't wanna have him think I'm out on his swag, yo. An'way, I gots to split. Ciao, baby.

---------

I have never really tried to do something like this and I normally write in the first style I went with, so I hoped it sort of worked out.


Reverting evolution.

cryo5
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 5th, 2013 @ 09:59 PM

Within this silo is a secret to the mind.
It is the spirit, in this heart, where I can keep my thoughts.
It is in this sanctuary that I can truly be with one mind.
I sit on this top tower, and overlook a cold and bristle land of ice and grass, and the winds that can take you to your soul. Housing the secrets of lands so far away, if one did not know them, they wouldn't exist, tied to this world only through memory.
And as the wind reaches me on this tower, I reach for the secrets again...

Surely, the vision begins, and it whisks me farther than I have ever been.
I see a girl who is holding hands with a dying wish, as she strips for money and abandons the dignity she was born to have and to hold, to simply spite the father who wished she had chosen better.
I see the man who has been there for her, drinking slowly the poisons of sorrows, and in turn, becoming the monster she had always feared him to be.
I see a child, knowing not the reason why the journey of life has led to his existence, and he wishes for something better than the shoutings of profanities of a drunk and a whore.
I see a storm that drowns the grim slum tenement, and takes the life of the boy, the girl, the man, and it carries their bodies to sunrise falls, where a sea of creatures take the gift from the gods above the waters without question, without mercy, without sparing.
I see these creatures let the pieces of the dead become a part of them.Those who ate the father transform to sickly, angry beasts. Those who ate the mother turn to beautiful creatures who frolic and folly, acting on whim, and once again, serving as food for the beasts.
Those who ate the son, his soul was taken in, and they are different. They were given a seperate life, where no walls bound them.
And so they swam.
Deep, they went to find the ways of life they've never known.
Deep, the rode the tides of fate that swayed them, tossed and rolled.
On, the spun forever through the beauty of the Ocean
Free, they felt the gift of life grant an everclear devotion.
And the boy who felt pain for so long
felt life more in death
and knows that there is always good to come with time.

I smile, as the vision fades away, and the winds make me cool, and fill my lungs with enlightenment, and my thoughts with joy. I leap from the tower, knowing that life will go on without me, and that something good may come from everything dark we do, and as I close to the ground, I realize that it was not I to take to falling, but a man a million miles away.

The tower keeps me guessing, and keeps me looking. "What am I to see?"

The man slowly falls, but not down anymore. It is as if time has replayed the seconds, only making more questions for me. The man stands on a rooftop, and is looking down, and turns back to see a lover. She has pushed him, and he does not fight it. Further, back the time rolls. A kiss, a tear, an apology, but distance kept at gunpoint. Down the stairs and through the halls. An empty apartment, leading further to a building below.
"What am I to see?" I say again.
At the bottom of the stairs, at the bottom of all floors is the entrance to Hades himself, and this man has been lead up from death, only to die again, at the hands of his lover.
"What am I to see?!" I say again.
Further down the cinder stairs, a dark and rank cave leads to yet another chamber- a room full of magical things. A room lined with mirrors, and in one mirror, lies me, on top the tower. And the man returns to where I was, and where I am through that portal.
I hear a voice of a girl behind me.
"I'm so sorry."

zag
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 6th, 2013 @ 02:29 AM

Possessed

In a far, far away time at a far, far away place,
There existed a prison, absent of grace.
The people there, monsters in a semi-literal sense,
And the staff there to keep order, the ones placed for defense.
They too became twisted, by the prison's own will,
And more than a few times, were overcome by the thrill.
The thrill of torment, of torturing their attendants,
And they were brought to the courts, they became legal defendants.
To defend their own freedom, in the face of the horrors they brought,
But it was entirely useless, though they fought and they fought.
And each of them too became a tenant at this prison,
Locked away from society, their rage only risen.
Demons filled with loathing and contempt can't help but feel hate,
And hate is contagious, and with so many grissly occasions, the prison's destruction would be fate.
Though now physically gone for good, the prison's spirit lives on,
But though the building's been devoured, there was a great con.
Where it first existed, no one alive can remember,
And occasionally, someone seemingly innocent can't help but dismember.
Dismember their loved ones, or a complete and total stranger,
Please, let me ask. Can you feel the danger?
The danger of not knowing why, but hearing a silent sound.
And deep within you, you feel your own rage pound.
Is my tale real? I think that answer might astound.
Is where you stand the final resting place? Is it that prison's burial ground?

âEUoeThe only words I hear, over and over. That damned poem!âEU my body twitches, though not of my own will. I manage to slam my eyes closed and attempt meditation to stop the words from echoing. I'm no more capable of ending that voice than I am my own convulsions. I hear Anthony crying from the next room over. I can't help but neglect my responsibilities as a father right now though. I doubt I'd earn any father of the year awards in my currently crazed state.
But despite my greatest attempts, I do rise. My feet step steadily, one in front of the other. I watch them move, but I'm certainly not moving them,
âEUoeStop!âEU I scream out, but the voice only returns with the same poem, ignoring my plea. The phantom forces my hand onto the handle of the door in front of me. ANTHONY is painted in multicolored letters on the door. It swings ajar and he's standing at the foot of his bed, staring up at me. Urine still streaming down his bed pants.
âEUoeWhere's mommy?âEU His words frighten me. I want to tell him... I want to tell him that she's safe in bed... but I can't, for more than one reason. My voice is no longer my own. Aside from that, I no longer remember if she is safe. I no longer remember her being in my bed at all. My arms, also no longer in my possession reach out to my son. I want so badly to embrace him, but this phantom at my back has other plans.
âEUoeDaddy!âEU He cries out. My arms around his neck, I can't help but cry myself. My own tears, though ethereal fall down my cheeks. My own unsounding cry caught in a throat that I no longer own. He falls to the ground, as do I. Forever more, I am consumed by the phantom that haunts me.

When traveling cross country, I advise you be weary,
Or undoubtedly, you may find yourself part of something quite dreary.
And when building a home, I advise you know where you are,
For the demons below us may reach out from afar.
And don't let curiosity get a hold of your mind,
For then my friend, you might just find,
You'll belong to the demons, left bodiless, deaf, dumb and blind.

u.u

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zag
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 6th, 2013 @ 02:32 AM

Nice to see that indentations don't translate well on here.
I really, really hope that the sloppy formatting doesn't disqualify me.


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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 6th, 2013 @ 10:54 PM

I sat at my computer. Or maybe my computer sat at me. It's a laptop, so I suppose in a sense it sits on you while you sit on it. Well, you don't sit on it, obviously it's my laptop and I don't even know you, probably, so I'd hope you didn't sit on my laptop while it sits on you. Especially not while I'm trying to write a story, because I'm not good at sharing, especially when I'm trying to work. Trying being the operative word, because up until now I've hardly written anything at all. By the time you finish reading this, this is what I'll have written so far:

The writer hunched over his computer in the dark, then looked up, around the room. That was a waste of his time, of course, it was a pretty dark room. The TV flickered. Well, that wasn't true, it was a brand-new bigscreen, not a CRTV from the 80s. The writer frowned; sometimes these borrowed phrases sounded right even when they had no basis in reality. It had never occurred to him to try and observe the behavior of flickering in a television. It was just something televisions did when you had to communicate that there was a character watching a teevee in a darkened room. Just a verb to make the television seem more active, because what other verbs are you going to attribute to it without describing shows and things? Anyway, it was a cliche. He snorted. Or he would have snorted, anyway, if he was the sort of person who snorted derisively when he was alone in the room. He yawned instead, a nice, long one that stretched his jaw. Looking around the room wasn't inspiring him at all. He wondered if it was because he couldn't see anything. He considered turning on the light, but it didn't seem like a good idea, partially because he really didn't want to describe anything he knew that there was to see in his apartment. He had to change something, though, if this story was going to get out of his head. Maybe, he said out loud, if I change the perspective the story will come out easier.

It is pitch dark in your room. You can't see anything, hardly, except your computer screen, the television that's not flickering, and the light of your alarm clock. Well, you can see your own pale thigh, illuminated by your laptop screen. You ignore that, and a bunch of other stuff that's in the room but too hard to see. Besides, you know better than to bore your audience with a list of things in your apartment that are close enough to your computer to be lit up by the screen. You have been writing for nearly half an hour now, and the story is coming along a little better now. You take your legs out from under the blankets because your laptop is starting to burn your thighs, and you wonder--not for the first time--if half a lifetime of sitting barelegged with a laptop across your lap will have longterm ramifications for your virility. Your girlfriend probably wouldn't approve.

The writer smiled as his girlfriend shifted in the bed. He was less frustrated now, the words moving across the page at a safer clip. He was not in the mood to write a long epic. No, just this once he would stick to something a little more in the stream-of-consciousness school. Worry less about narrative and more about making sure his thoughts were laid out on the page as they came to him. Even correcting grammar and spelling errors wasn't necessary, he thought. Of course, he would go back and correct them, but wouldn't it be hilarious if he put a whole bunch of errors in the same sentence in which he declared that he wouldn't be checking for errors? He frowned. No, he'd gotten the joke backwards. It was only funny if someone left a bunch of spelling errors and grammatical mistakes and dangling participles and overlong lists in the sentence about being a careful editor. Even then, it was a hackneyed joke.

He yawned. It was getting late, and the central conflict--that the writer was having a hard time writing--was rapidly being solved. Soon, there wouldn't be much to say, and nobody likes it when you belabor a story.

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 7th, 2013 @ 06:23 PM

My first entry had messed up the formatting, so I am submitting my entry with a pastebin link.

Growing Up - NG Contest Entry

theamazingjamez
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 10th, 2013 @ 11:11 AM

I uploaded this a while ago, but I think it would be perfect for this contest!

http://theamazingjamez.newgrounds.com/news/post/728683

silas-stingy
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 11th, 2013 @ 02:46 AM

Try this one

I, as a very old mad man, traveled a lot through various places. The most remarkable one was the St. IxyquerâEUTMs market. It wasn't called like that at the time but a name that varied a lot, just like the hours of the day. There as I sat in front wall of the back alley I almost instantly started to win the precious earnings I loved so much. As I counted the coins inside my box and calculated the price of my returning journey a man approached to me dressed in a green tunic and announced me the coming of Elmeder, god of the unfortunate, protector of the true and humble. As he read to me of the scriptures about his adventures, a passage which I will not mention, made me think about my empty life, so, as the man gave me some brochure about their beliefs and the location of their temple, I saw the sun and on its center a human figure which transformed into an animal that came to me, the animal did not seem to have an exact shape but a shadow and the man quickly knelt into the floor and put his hands together as he chanted in a strange language I have never heard before except for the time the elders I met on my youth broke my limbs on that ritual to the gods and amputated them to burn them on the pot of the thousand lives. As my human parts started to become black, my heart became pure only for that very time and light made me move and then disappear in front of those priests who find me again at my house when I woke up from that bad dream. As soon I opened my eyes a beautiful female form held me and then again the priests took out the knifes hidden beneath their clothes but now my spirit was free and the female form turned into dust and the dust paralyzed everyone but me and my watchdog killed them all because they were not meant to be seen anymore on the face of the earth. Finally as the dust started to fly away, it turned into light and the light into emptiness which absorbed me and then I disappeared myself. As you may have guessed I then became part of the creature I have seen that day and in a gesture of ElmederâEUTMs grace I ripped the head of that man in the tunic because when I really found him at the market, buying his entrance to the other life, I told him about the reality of his infamous acts and the light of his soul could travel far beyond this universe not to be found anymore on the mind of the man except for that one who saw him and believed that humanity needed to know how he became pure from impurity, how he came to be a part of the light, but what he didn't saw was that the darkness of his soul was a little spore which entered his nose and ordered his brain to be the one who would murder for his beliefs. Tragic was the day he convinced the lords of the lands and expanded his domain through the old world. Finally after the slaughter, the blood entered the earth and cursed the land causing hunger and pain everywhere. After his domains got empty because of death, none saw a trace of the witness. After a thousand years it was all forgotten and a Castle raised after a man of large fortune paid for all the details that were needed to take care including a temple dedicated to the son of the architect of the temple whose grandfather, was a soldier in a big war at heavens which ended his life. In reward a messenger from the sky told the young architect that his father spirit was going to live into the body of a son who was going to incarnate himself through the of Sertbyn and live as a Saint. But when Tjrsvx, his enemy knew it, sent his servant Defhmup and his clones to go to the forgotten land in a quest for ElmederâEUTMs spore. That quest shall not be found to be written because of the absence of the wise who ran away from the disaster caused by ElmederâEUTMs corrupt follower. Tjrsvx took the form of Sauyuas, a woman loved by the architect to steal his essence and his purity, because he was a virgin when he was notified about the miracle. Finally the product of such combination was the seed put on SertbynâEUTMs table by Defhmup and then transformed into the architectâEUTMs son; a reincarnation of the evilness of Elmeder. He grew up faking the purity predicted by this god and as he grew up, he entered into the arts of witchcraft which helped him to blind the gods and his fatherâEUTMs will. After a few years he conquered the masses and established, with the help of his father, the temple in which he could be the real master of the land. Only one, who had developed a power, older than his could stop him. I had to set a trap, so I disguised as Ixyquer, an old man with a simple perspective, one whose innocence could be easily disguised and my power would be hidden inside him. The battle was fierce, he wasn't willing to give up so easily but finally died. All his spells were broken, but his father died as he had too much of his magic invading his body. The folk also came back to their senses and a big celebration began around the ruined castle which was almost destroyed when ElmederâEUTMs darkness was out of the town. However, the darkness can come back, I do not know if the darkness hid inside peopleâEUTMs heart. I do not know if there are ElmederâEUTMs worshipers out there in the world. I cannot think what vengeance can fall into the villagers.
What I do know is that you already know in your hearts the content of the passage that I read.

pharynroller123
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 12th, 2013 @ 08:24 AM

"is like where never gonna score by wussies forever is gonna suck.........................................no no i won't settle down is not fair is never gonna score is like a job and shopping and cleaning up and like masturbating and chicks with dicks and watch porno and a do some moe lives and cook dinner...........shutup asswipe.......where never gonna score never gonna score NEVER GONNA SCORE"

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 14th, 2013 @ 01:49 AM

http://roadguy5.newgrounds.com/news/post/826910

'Twas too many characters for a forum post, so I posted it in my news.

-Road

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 14th, 2013 @ 09:33 PM

He sat there,
4 days,
Looking down,
The Mop of his head resting on his knuckles,

His other hand stirring all the fine sand,
Dry,
Sparkling in the moonlight,

Recalling everything he had looked down on,
Bugs,
Rocks,
Animals,
Others like him,
He got on top of them,
looked in them,
and found nothing,
still looking down for something,
He dosed off,
Head Slipping off his knucklesâEU¦âEU¦..

A fish with a healthy set of scales walked up,
seeing the man had not eaten in a while,
by his pale complextion,
The fish spoke,
into the ear hole,
fish lips tickling the the ear hairs,
in a raspy old fish man voice,

"If you can catch me"
the fish looks around as if someone else is listening,
lips back in the ear,
"You can eat Me"
The Fish Turns around and struts back into the riverâEU¦..

Startled, awakening in a haze,
The man was paralyzed,
as he watched the fish who had looked up at him,
Not thinking Twice about the words he heard,
The man scanned himself for bait,
He found the only thing he had left and the only thing of value,
A gold ring,
he attached it to the hook on his rod and cast it into the river,

A moment passed, and another,
But no sooner before the third could pass,
There was a tug on his line.

Reeling in,
And Pulling out,
He could now see he had caught the fish in his dream like state.

"I knew I could catch you"
but now realizing he didnt want to eat,

The Fish,
Thats no reward,
The gamble, the catch was rewarding

Throwing away the last thing of value,
that was no use for a fish,
Just to end up with a fish that looked like every other,
This Fish was the only challenge of anything that ever looked up to the man,
A fish offering itself in entirety,

So he threw the fish back,
The fish Jumped away in the river,
High enough for the man to realize,
The sky is as Sandy as his toes,

He Never looked down again,
He would Stir the night sky for the rest of his life,
Wanting something bigger to catch and consume him.

Michkoch
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 15th, 2013 @ 01:11 AM

This short story was inspired by this art image:

  • Hersa
    Hersa by Zigan

    Corruption of Hersa Hersa is a young woman, fueled by the world and it's wonderful beauty. Her heart cracks through her fles...

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The Corruption of Hersa
Once upon a time, a delightful woman gained extremely powers: The eye of God: immortality, source of the ether, sparkle of life, the true spirit; and The eye of Reason: wisdom, science, the power to create, the power to destroy, the knowledge of the matter.
But then she was cursed for abusing her powers, creating and destroying everything in her path. Corrupting the world, so the creation of corruption began. She lost her humanity; her soul, her heart, and all the things she loved once. But when she realised her madness, it was too late. But in her repentance she gained her heart, her soul, her counsciousness. She gained Hope, a hope as bright as light, emanating from her heart...
And a task remained; an endless task: protect the life of the many corrupted forces she created with the corrupted forces she gained.


Sorry for my english if you find an error. Have compassion, it's not my first language.

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Silverspecks
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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 15th, 2013 @ 11:51 PM

Reminiscence (brief mature content warning)

A stormy night had fallen upon the town of Richtale. The rain was pouring hard enough to strand the patrons at one of the town's less popular bars. Tonight there remained very few customers. An elderly married couple sat at the bar while three men of noticeably younger ages sat at a nearby booth. The old man was nodding off with a drink in his hand while his wife conversed with the bartender. The three men nearby were playing cards while they smoked the same brand of cigarettes and sipped the same scotch.

"I've heard this storm's gonna be a laster," said the bartender. "Sorry ya gotta stay so late Julia."

"Oh that's alright," she responded. "I haven't seen you for so long. It'll be nice catching up."

The youngest of the three men, probably in his early twenties, had been tuned in to their conversation. "Looks like we are going to be here a while," he said breaking the silence between his companions.

The man across from him, a gentleman probably in his fifties, finished his cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke as he jammed the smoldering filter into his ash tray. "The tv reception has gone out. Either of you two got a good story?" he suggested.

"I guess I could ramble a bit," said the youngster before he took a swig of scotch. "I remember a few years ago back when I was doing standup as a hobby. I would perform at the comedy clubs here and in the three neighboring towns. I had this knack for being able to come up with new jokes and humorous stories, and I was smart enough to always keep my venues in rotation. One of my favorite bits was a reenacted conversation with my friend. Somehow the subject had switched to our sex lives.

'You and your girl still going hot and heavy?' I asked.

'Yeah, except two weeks ago she got a little too into it and hurt me with her teeth,' he told me. 'We have not had any more sex since then.' I couldn't resist the urge to act stupid.

'Why does your girl have teeth in her vag?' I asked."

All three of the intoxicated men burst into laughter at the immature joke. "I was not expecting that," said the man across from him as he tried to regain composure.

"That is only one of my best jokes," the youth began again. "And here comes another one. I remember watching an advertisement for Dr. Scholls gel insoles and was inspired to create a commentary. Every dude in the commercial who was allegedly using this product had a mild manner that was so unfazed by external stimuli that I swear you could ram a rod up their asses and they wouldn't bat an eye." He paused and waited for a break in the laughter. "Then one of them said something that made me question if the script was proof-read. When asked if he was gel'n, he said 'I am gel'n like a felon.' I doubt it crossed any of their minds that they were likening his state of mind to that of someone convicted of a felony, who is most certainly not gel'n. Because if you are 'gel'n like a felon,' you must be pretty proud of the crap you pulled to still be gel'n behind bars."

His companions lost control and began struggling get in enough air. "Oh Lord," the older man finally got out. "I am surprised you are not off making a living doing this."

"To be honest, a comedy scout once offered to sign me on with a comedy group he was compiling. They were there with him, and they swore that they never laughed as much as they did during the time they were together. It was a tantalizing offer, but I ultimately turned it down."

"Why did you do that?"

"I would have had to move to Hollywood, but the girl I was dating could not move away from here. My time with her meant more to me than a profession in comedy and I honestly believe I made the right choice." He reached into one of his jacket's inner pockets and produced a small box which he opened to reveal a diamond ring. He flashed it a bit before replacing the box back in his jacket.

"Sweet. What about you?" the older man asked the man in the middle. "You got a story for us?"

(continued)


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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 15th, 2013 @ 11:52 PM

"Yeah I got one," spoke the man in his mid-thirties for the first time. "But do not expect to laugh. Back in my mid-twenties I had a brush with death so close that I should not have lived. It was on a day of weather not unlike today. The only difference was an unceasing torrent of lightning and thunder. The river of Richtale had reached a dangerous level, and I was one of many volunteers working to reinforce the dam. I was apart from the main group when it happened. Despite the incredibly low odds, it happened. The only way I can describe the experience is that for an instant I felt the touch of God Himself, and my heart nearly burst from my chest. The last thing I remember before everything went black was the taste of metal"

"In all the years that we have known each other," the older man spoke up, "never once did you share with me that you survived a lightning strike."

"There is more to my story," continued the man in the middle. "After seeing my steaming body on the ground they called for an ambulance and tried to resuscitate me. Now, I was told that I remained in a comatose state for about a week, but believe me, that week felt like an eternity. During my time in the unconscious realm I experienced things that go way beyond schizophrenia. I could never describe everything, but I will give a few examples. I remember being forcefully fed every candy bar I ever stole from any convenient store. Chocolate was shoved down my throat one after another. Through my tears I watched my stomach bulge to ridiculous proportions before the skin split and my entrails spilled out. I remember standing in my old backyard looking up at my tree house when the tree became a demon of a thousand gnarled arms. I stood paralyzed with fear as the demon lifted the tree house even higher before slamming it down upon me, crushing my bones in brutal agony. I remember the severed heads of my family dancing around me, chanting 'we know, now repay' in unison. Arms reached out of the ground and immobilized me. I tried fighting them off but I could not escape. The heads drew closer all saying 'you took our bodies, we take yours.' They all sunk their teeth into me and began tearing away my flesh."

His companions sat there with eyes like dish plates.

"For the most part it was all pretty nonsensical. I will never forget what happened last. The Grim Reaper himself came into being before me. Before I even had a chance to run, he placed a hand on my shoulder and I appeared at a fork in the road with two women identical to the one my wife standing at the split. They spoke to me in perfect harmony.

'Greetings, it would seem you have reached the end of your road. There are now two paths to take. One leads to eternal salvation, the other leads to eternal damnation. You may ask us each one question to determine your path. But beware, one of us is your love who will tell the truth, while the other is a doppelganger who tells only lies.'

Fortunately for me, I was familiar with this logic puzzle, and I posed my hypothetical: 'If asked if you were my wife, what would you say?' The left said 'yes,' the right said 'no.' I held out my palm into which formed a pistol with a single round, and I shot the right one in the head.

'The fake is dead, but now you are lost,' said my wife. 'I cannot answer another question, and you do not know the way.'

'Of course I do,' I told her. 'I knew from the beginning. It does not matter where either path goes because they both lead to death. I am not ready to die yet. You still need me alive and I need you with me.'

'Then come back.' She disappeared along with the fork and my road extended into a blinding light. I walked into the light and woke up in the hospital to the sound of my wife pleading for me to 'come back.'"

"You tell a rather compelling tale," said the youth. "Gruesome, but compelling." He finished his cigarette and jammed it into his tray. "Alright old man, your turn."

(continued)


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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 15th, 2013 @ 11:53 PM

"Who are you calling 'old'? I am still in my swinging fifties." He refilled his glass from the glass jug on the table. "I suppose I could spin a tale or two. I just have to wet the tongue first." He took a rather generous swig of scotch.

"My relationship with my spouse had grown pretty heated sometime in my forties. We went to counseling and the therapist suggested that we spend a period apart from each other. She was unsure, but I embraced the idea. At the time I felt a need to make up for what I thought was an unfulfilled past. So I flew to Vegas with a group of my buddies. It did not take long after hitting the casinos for all of them to realize something about me that I did not know myself: I had a gambling problem. As I invested more and more money into the hope of a payout, they pulled further and further from me. I guess it was either out of fear of being associated with my debts, or fear that I would start asking for handouts. I kept withdrawing more and more money from my accounts, always finding new optimism every time I stepped into one of those damned casinos. It was only a matter of days before I emptied out both my savings and checking accounts and even then I did not wise up. I sold my plane ticket home, and soon that cash was gone too, leaving me without a practical way out of Vegas."

"Jesus," said the man in the middle. "Some friends they were, abandoning you like that." He paused. "You could have called someone."

"I was far too ashamed to ask for help getting out the hole I dug myself into. I spent my next few days in Vegas outdoors. And I was so afraid of what could happen if I fell asleep that I stayed awake for the first two days. In that time I do not believe I went five minutes without reflecting on my decisions. But by the third day my sleep deprivation started causing hallucinations, so I found refuge sleeping in a cardboard box in a vacant alley. It was the first time in my life that my spirit was so broken that I could actually empathize with the homeless. By the third night I had had enough of Vegas and just started walking in the direction of home, not even caring how far it was. I got through several miles on the interstate before I hitched my first ride. He did not take me very far though, maybe twenty-five miles to a rest area before his exit. In total I hitched five rides on my way back home, and when I was not riding, I was either walking or sleeping off-road, unless it rained, in which case I kept walking."

"When I left for Vegas I had an unhealthy body fat percentage, but I ate nothing for my entire journey home. By the time I made it back to town I had lost over fifteen pounds. In the beginning I was racked with hunger pains, but those subsided when I began steadily burning fat. I arrived at my doorstep a disheveled mess racked with pneumonia. My wife gasped when she first saw me. I must have nearly looked like a different person. I fell to my knees and cried bitter unmanly tears as I told her what happened. I desperately apologized for everything I put her through and begged her to take me back. She did not give me any of the folded arms or acting distant business. She literally dragged me inside as we hugged for the first time in a long while. She made all the pain go away, and we have had only minor problems ever since."

"Well done my friend," spoke the youth. "If that story ever made it onto the big screen, it would be a real tear-jerker." The middle man silently nodded in agreement.

"Have either of you noticed yet?" asked the older man. His companions looked at him confused. "Since we started talking, we have yet to finish this round of Poker."

(continued)


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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 15th, 2013 @ 11:54 PM

âEUoeHavenâEUTMt told John this yet,âEU the bartender addressed Julia, âEUoebut the barâEUTMs gonna be closed next Saturday. TakeâEUTMn the wife out fer anniversâEUTMry and I couldnâEUTMt find a replacement.âEU

âEUoeSounds romantic Chuck. WhereâEUTMre you two going?âEU

âEUoeSome fancy-schmancy place I canâEUTMt pronounce. That good-for-nothing man of yours told her âEU~bout it, and I already know itâEUTMs gonna put me out another hundred.âEU

âEUoeOh heâEUTMs not so bad,âEU she playfully said while glancing at the now fully asleep John. âEUoeItâEUTMs probably some place heâEUTMs brought me to before. If itâEUTMs for me, he doesnâEUTMt give a higher price a second thought. He must do it to remind me how much I matter to him. IâEUTMll never need another reminder though, after all, he turned down the career opportunity of a lifetime and came back from the verge of death just to stay with me.âEU The storm outside slowed to a light drizzle. âEUoeAfter proving how much he truly cares about me, all I could do was welcome him back with open arms when he returned home from the greatest blunder of his life.âEU

When she finished, Chuck and Julia were greeted by an absence of pattering on the roof. âEUoeI guess itâEUTMs time to get going,âEU she said turning to her husband. âEUoeJohnny, wake up. The stormâEUTMs over.âEU The balding old man lifted his head from the bar.

âEUoeWhat is the damage Chuck?âEU he asked groggily.

âEUoeNext time old friend, get some sleep.âEU John merely nodded as he put on his coat and hat. He offered his arm to his wife.

âEUoeGoodnight Chuck,âEU called Julia as they walked away.

âEUoeGâEUTMnight.âEU The old couple exited the bar leaving Chuck to be the only one left.

âEUoeWhat were you dreaming about?âEU asked Julia.

âEUoeMy past.âEU

End

*I've been working with this story on and off for the past couple days. Though writing got tedious at times, I think I have ultimately grown from this new experience. Other than the prompts for this contest, this story is entirely original. Though I can't help but feel there are similar works out there by already established authors. I hope you all enjoyed the story. I'd love to read any comments on this work in the discussion thread


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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 16th, 2013 @ 12:26 AM

Please delete the other version of this post that has formatting issues.

"Haven't told John this yet," the bartender addressed Julia, "but the bar's gonna be closed next Saturday. Take'n the wife out fer annivers'ry and I couldn't find a replacement."

"Sounds romantic Chuck. Where're you two going?"

"Some fancy-schmancy place I can't pronounce. That good-for-nothing man of yours told her 'bout it, and I already know it's gonna put me out another hundred."

"Oh he's not so bad," she playfully said while glancing at the now fully asleep John. "It's probably some place he's brought me to before. If it's for me, he doesn't give a higher price a second thought. He must do it to remind me how much I matter to him. I'll never need another reminder though, after all, he turned down the career opportunity of a lifetime and came back from the verge of death just to stay with me." The storm outside slowed to a light drizzle. "After proving how much he truly cares about me, all I could do was welcome him back with open arms when he returned home from the greatest blunder of his life."

When she finished, Chuck and Julia were greeted by an absence of pattering on the roof. "I guess it's time to get going," she said turning to her husband. "Johnny, wake up. The stormâEUTMs over." The balding old man lifted his head from the bar.

"What is the damage Chuck?" he asked groggily.

"Next time old friend, get some sleep." John merely nodded as he put on his coat and hat. He offered his arm to his wife.

"Goodnight Chuck," called Julia as they walked away.

"G'night." The old couple exited the bar leaving Chuck to be the only one left.

"What were you dreaming about?" asked Julia.

"My past."

End

*I've been working with this story on and off for the past couple days. Though writing got tedious at times, I think I have ultimately grown as a writer from this new experience. Other than the prompts for this contest, this story is entirely original. Though I can't help but feel there are similar works out there by already established authors. I hope you all enjoyed the story. I'd love to read any comments on this work in the discussion thread


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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 18th, 2013 @ 07:53 PM

The Human Spectre:

Carson Spectre was just about to unravel the biggest case of his life. Local big business man and all around scumbag Morgan Thyme was not a very likable man, nor an intelligent one. But he had a secret to his success, and Carson aimed to figure out what that was. One day Carson manages to sneak passed security, and work his way towards MorganâEUTMs office.

The door is opened ever so slightly and Carson can see that thereâEUTMs no one inside. He slowly makes his way in and locks the door behind him. He notices a note left upon MorganâEUTMs desk. He also notices a unlocked window, which will be a great escape in an emergency.

Carson knew that judging by his past cases, that wouldnâEUTMt be long. He continued to go over and read the note. He didnâEUTMt understand it. All that was on the note was a list of events, and times in which they would occur. He noticed another odd thing, the note was dated as being ten years in the future! At the very bottom it said âEUoeLong live the Corporate States of AmericaâEU. Carson found this very intriguing, and pocketed the note for safe keeping.

Suddenly in the middle of the office opened a vortex. Arcs of energy went shooting off in every direction, and out stepped Morgan, with an odd device that looked like a pocket watch in his hand. Frozen by the shock, Carson stood there in awe, right before coming to the sudden realization that he was about to be busted. Carson ran head on into Morgan, tackling the watch right out of his hands. Never one for thinking a plan through, Carson grabbed the watch and dived out the window.

As he fell to his death, Carson grasped the watch as hard as he could. And in the blink of an eye, vanished. When he awoke, he found himself in a slum like dystopia, a ruined image of the world he just left behind. Now Carson must use his wits to uncover the mystery behind how he got there, whatâEUTMs going on with the world, and how he can get back to the past, in order to prevent this terrible nightmare.

Mwc13: Genre Hopping!


Hey there, if your character lacks a voice, I will help to put words in their mouths.

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 19th, 2013 @ 12:38 AM

Literal fiction, fixated on this spontaneous addiction that brings out the beast in me, or him, or her.. THEM! Whatever was happening it wasn't good for Timothy or any of the other film crew that had crewcut haircuts and liked to cut heirs out of profit margins while spreading butter around like World Peace. They would have been better spreading world peas, at least folk can eat that way, with forks, instead of chopsticks, but some people chop sticks up and rub them together to light a fire in order to cook food. But Tim Buck Two didn't like to Tim Cook Food, he preferred to eat flowers every hour and chase off the genie that kept escaping from his beer bottle and shouted, "you can have three wishes!" But Timothy only had one wish, he wished that the genie would go away, on holiday on Holi Day, which was an Indian festival. "All in due course," said the genius in the bottle who was determined to enforce the Three Wish Policy on Tim-o-Thee. He even held him at knife point, "I'm telling you Timmy, make your goddamn wishes, or you'll wish you had never been born!" But Timmy didn't want to wish that he had never been born, except Jason Bourne, he'd be able to eat Bournville chocolate and live a life of peace and pleasure. But in this world, there was no such thing as peace and pleasure, not while there were beasts who kept interrupting him during his leisure time. "Make three wishes please!" There it was again, that annoying voice that kept niggling away at him in the background, repeatedly berating, grating on Tim's nerves. He would rather get wound up by Minerva from Assassins Creed, she would really make him angry, what with her vague language and the time she did a photoshoot for Vogue, which was photoshopped by a deviant man who sold the photos in his shop, for seven rupees. People would walk in and he'd say to them, "How many do you want?" and they'd say, "two please!" But he didn't have any rupees, so the shopkeeper had to listen to his rued pleas, and had to get down on his hands and knees just to acquire such Photographs. Those photographs were like the Elixir of Life, like a precious gemstone or a Zumba fitness machine, rare precious commodities. But he was odd himself, Even his friend Steven was odd.

Everyone's lives were shoddy, nobody had money, we were all poor, every single damn one of us. We couldn't even afford matches and had to rub two sticks together in order to light a fire in order to cause a genie to come out of a bottle and yell "If you wanna win Mwc13, baby there's a price to pay, you have to write all day, but I'm a genie in a bottle, and I can fix it so you'll win!" -- "But Mr Genie, just because you came out of my bottle of bud, doesn't give you super magical powers." -- "Oh yes it does Timmy Buck Sequel! Just watch this, I'll prove it!!" -- "AH-YAHHH!" He cast a spell and shot an arrow in my knee. I was in so much pain I had to kneel down and feel around, for something on the ground that would take the pain away. But there was nothing there, so Timmy had to make his first wish. "I wish that all this pain in my knee would disappear.. pleaseeee!!" And with that, the genie worked his magic and the man's patella was as good as new. "You really are a magic genie! What the hell is your name?" -- "I don't have a name. It's quite a sad story really, my parents didn't want to give me one, they said I would be more special if I didn't have a name at all, it'd make me stand out from the crowd." -- "And who the hell were the crowd?" -- "Mainly angry Goths." -- "Goths getting angry because you wanted to be different? That doesn't make sense!" -- "Nothing makes sense in this godforsaken world!" -- "Now you're talking like a western cowboy, just what the heck is going on here?" -- "Nothing that can't be fixed with a couple of wishes Timmy." -- "Okay Mr. Genie, I wish that you had a real name. How about John?" -- "Your wish is my command Timmy. BOOM! I am now called John." -- "How does it feel to have a real breathing name John?" -- "Not so bad I guess. Although, being named after a toilet was quite irresponsible of you Tim." -- "And what cha gonna' do about it John! What cha gon' do when Hulkamania rains down on youuuu!!" -- "I'll tell you what I'm going to do Mr Tim.. e to die!!!" -- And with that, John the genius genie who had escaped from a bottle of budweiser began to give chase, he chased Tim down to a small wooden log hut in the forest, Tim ran inside and locked the door. PHEW! Or so he thought, the sound of the door being hacked at, the genie put his head through the hole and shouted, "Here's Johnny!!" Tim got scared and curled into a faetal position. But then something unexpected happened, Johnny walked in holding a birthday cake, "Happy Birthday Timmy, you know I wanted to surprise you! Sit down. And so the two of them sat down at the table and began to eat cake and play Poker. "This is weird John I really thought you were trying to kill me." -- "Perish the thought Timmy, I can't kill anyone until they have made their three wishes."

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 19th, 2013 @ 12:40 AM

-- "Oh I see, so it would probably be in my best interests not to make a third wish?" -- "Timmy Timmy Timmy, one day this will all make sense." -- "I could just wish that it is impossible to kill me, then you couldn't do a damn thing!" -- "I'm not trying to kill you. You see.. you'r.. you're my long-lost brother." -- "W-w-wwhaa?? I'm.. I'm.. YOUR brother?" -- "I'm sorry Tim, I didn't know how best to break it to you. I've been living inside a budweiser bottle for 17 years Timmy, it's all I've never known man! Swimming around in a pool of malt, waiting for someone to use a bottle opener, or their teeth to take off the lid, and finally free me from this madness. But I didn't ever expect that it would be my own brother that would do it." -- "How the hell did you end up inside a bottle of beer? You fat bastard!" -- "It's a long story, and even then you wouldn't be capable of comprehending it." -- "Stop treating me like some scientist's accomplice Johnny, tell me what the fuck is going on? Where the hell are the Kyle tapes?" -- "Kyle tapes?" -- "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, you hid them didn't you?" -- "Er.. I.... no..." -- "Don't lie to me Johnny, I know when I'm being lied to Johnny, it's the eyes, they give em' away!" -- "I'm sorry Tim...... but it was the only way!!!" -- "No it wasn't Johnny, there were lots of alternative ways, but you took the only non-alternative way just to spite me!" -- "The Kyle tapes? What the hell are the Kyle tapes?!?!?! I'm telling you Timmy, you're off your fucking rocker!" -- "Don't lie to me Johnny." -- "Timmy.. Timmy.. Timmy!!" -- "Ghhett, 'wayy.. from.. meehh!" *Hick*

And so as the camera panned back further and further, we got a real insight. What we saw was a man called Timothy, he was lying semi-conscious by the side of a blazing fire in the middle of the forest, surrounded by two dozen empty budweiser bottles. It turns out that ol' Timothy had been dreaming that night, sources say that Tim had gotten so drunk, he had imagined the whole thing, genies coming out of bottles, psychos attacking him in his log hut, the Kyle tapes, it had all been a series of hallucinations, drunken visions. Nothing was real, the cases weren't real, the people weren't real.

Yes, this is.... JUDGE JUDY!!!

P.S. The cases of Budweiser were real though. Timothy really did drink himself to death that night. The funeral was so sad. 150 people turned up, including Johnny who let out a long bellowing laugh to himself, and then the curtains closed, the audience clapped.

And those people who read Mcw13 stories did what they did best. They went home, it had been a long day at the office reading about Timothy Buck the Sequel. They had real lives to get back to, ones that including drinking copious amounts of alcohol.

Thank you ladies and gentlemen, I've been your host for the evening.
Peace, take care of yourself, and each other.

JERRY JERRY!!

Then someone set fire to Tim's coffin using a Jerry can. It was his final wish after all.

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 21st, 2013 @ 08:54 AM

Trip to the Sea
He looked out from the cliff edge. The waves down below rattled against the cliff face. Zach, overcome with vertigo stepped back from the daunting view. His heart was still pounding violently in his chest as his jacket rustled feverishly to his heavy panting. He could not run back down. This was the end of the line.

âEUoeFuck!âEU he yelled at himself in frustration. He looked back down the dusty trail he had just hiked up. Myriads of bramble, twigs, thistles and leaves viciously engulfed the earthy path so that every blast of dust blown up by the wind was like a desperate cry for help; but Zach had no time for that.
He looked down at the sea again. The waves relentlessly snapped at the jagged wall below, the water frothing like a deranged rabies carrier. Nothing but complete and utter chaos reigned. Zach shuddered at the sight and turned away. Suddenly he felt his heart jump up with a glimmer of hope from what he had seen from the corner of his eye. Was his sick, tormenting mind playing tricks on him again? He looked back at the spot. The vicious and deadly cur had not ceased its attack down below. Zach squinted a bit harder and there, in the centre of the furious watery tirade was a pool of calm, navy blue water. An epiglottis tucked delicately away for the beast to unleash its loudest bark.

Zach now had options. Originally, it had been: stay where he is and die or jump off the cliff, hope he does not land on the jagged rocks, plunge into the hell storm of waves which will rattle him against the cliff before he can orient himself and then die.
âEUoeNow,âEU he reckoned, âEUoethereâEUTMs a ten percent chance I could land in that calm pool; presuming there isnâEUTMt a bed of rock under ten inches of water right there.
âEUoeYeah, IâEUTMm still gonna be fucked but at least IâEUTMll have a moment to figure out my next move.âEU
Zach paced up and down feverishly, the adrenaline and fear in his body causing the tears on his face to zigzag down his cheeks. Suddenly, he froze in place and listened. At first there was nothing. The wind whipped through the weeds sending out a cloud of dust while the vegetation rustled stubbornly without being displaced. The wind died down again and there was silenceâEU¦
âEUoeYeah! Wait thereâEUTMs a trail! LetâEUTMs go up here!âEU
The voices pierced the calm air and popped ZachâEUTMs bubble of desperate hope.
âEUoeShit!âEU Zach shouted as he grabbed his hair and began to shake even more uncontrollably.
There was a faint crackle of branches being trodden on in the distance. Zach began to pace up and down again; his heart beating so hard it added an extra shake to his bodyâEUTMs shivers. The footsteps could now be heard clearly as the voices, only a few metres away, grew louder. Zach began to feel dizzy. His breathing now turned to short, loud, painful gasps as he began to hyperventilate. All of a sudden, he felt something warm trickling down his chin, then a dull pain from his mouth as he realized, in his grimaced frustration, he had bitten cleanly through his bottom lip.
The adrenaline numbing the pain and his realisation of his impending doom cemented, his fascination got the better of him. The quivering in his hand ceased completely as he reached it up to his chin and spat out the bloody chunk into his palm. Zach could now hear their voices bellowing just from behind the miniature wall of weeds on the path in front of him, but he did not care. Nothing was going to stop him from seeing this. How many people can say they have seen their own bottom lip up close, un-stretched and not in the mirror? He carefully wiped the blood off of the small piece of flesh with his other hand and examined it. It was now a pale pink, âEU~from all the blood draining out of it,âEUTM he figured. It was still warm and the softest thing he had ever held in his life.
âEUoeNow step away from there and come over here. WeâEUTMre gonna fix you up nicely,âEU one of the ghouls commanded as he gestured, but once again in vain as Zach did not understand a word of their babbling.
Zach looked up at the disturbing sight. Their pale, disfigured faces gleamed dully in the sunlight. Their snake-like eyes watching him intently. Their skeletal bodies ready to pounce at any moment. Zach pocketed his lip, calmly turned to the cliff edge and jumpedâEU¦

Zach opened his eyes to a blinding white fluorescent light. He tried to move but his whole body was in searing pain and finally with some effort he managed to look down at it. He was lying in a bed. Both of his legs where in casts and angled up in the air from the pulley system they were rigged up to. His left arm was also in a cast and he felt his heart pound almost out of his chest then sink suddenly as he noticed that his entire right arm had been reduced to nothing but a bandaged stub. He closed his eyes and looked back up. A cold draft swept in through the window and for the first time in his life he could feel it hitting against his bottom gums.
Zach could hear a stirring coming from the side of the room. He looked to his left just as Dave was waking up from a bench against the wall.
âEUoeDaeh! What the hâEUTMuck hahâEUTMnâEUTMd?!âEU
âEUoeWhat happened?âEU Dave yawned while stretching his arms, âEUoeYou took too much, cut off your bottom lip and jumped off your apartment onto the street is what happened.âEU
âEUoeHoly shit! Oh yeah! Shit! HâEUTMan, iâEUTMh you only knew what I saw! Ha ha ha ha! I was triâEUTMhing gâEUTMalls!âEU


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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 21st, 2013 @ 09:10 AM

Retyped the quotation marks for it to make sense now.

Trip to the Sea
He looked out from the cliff edge. The waves down below rattled against the cliff face. Zach, overcome with vertigo stepped back from the daunting view. His heart was still pounding violently in his chest as his jacket rustled feverishly to his heavy panting. He could not run back down. This was the end of the line.

"Fuck!" he yelled at himself in frustration. He looked back down the dusty trail he had just hiked up. Myriads of bramble, twigs, thistles and leaves viciously engulfed the earthy path so that every blast of dust blown up by the wind was like a desperate cry for help; but Zach had no time for that.
He looked down at the sea again. The waves relentlessly snapped at the jagged wall below, the water frothing like a deranged rabies carrier. Nothing but complete and utter chaos reigned. Zach shuddered at the sight and turned away. Suddenly he felt his heart jump up with a glimmer of hope from what he had seen from the corner of his eye. Was his sick, tormenting mind playing tricks on him again? He looked back at the spot. The vicious and deadly cur had not ceased its attack down below. Zach squinted a bit harder and there, in the centre of the furious watery tirade was a pool of calm, navy blue water. An epiglottis tucked delicately away for the beast to unleash its loudest bark.

Zach now had options. Originally, it had been: stay where he is and die or jump off the cliff, hope he does not land on the jagged rocks, plunge into the hell storm of waves which will rattle him against the cliff before he can orient himself and then die.
"Now," he reckoned, "there's a ten percent chance I could land in that calm pool; presuming there isn't a bed of rock under ten inches of water right there.
"Yeah, I'm still gonna be fucked but at least I'll have a moment to figure out my next move."
Zach paced up and down feverishly, the adrenaline and fear in his body causing the tears on his face to zigzag down his cheeks. Suddenly, he froze in place and listened. At first there was nothing. The wind whipped through the weeds sending out a cloud of dust while the vegetation rustled stubbornly without being displaced. The wind died down again and there was silence...
"Yeah! Wait there's a trail! Let's go up here!"
The voices pierced the calm air and popped Zach's bubble of desperate hope.
"Shit!" Zach shouted as he grabbed his hair and began to shake even more uncontrollably.
There was a faint crackle of branches being trodden on in the distance. Zach began to pace up and down again; his heart beating so hard it added an extra shake to his body's shivers. The footsteps could now be heard clearly as the voices, only a few metres away, grew louder. Zach began to feel dizzy. His breathing now turned to short, loud, painful gasps as he began to hyperventilate. All of a sudden, he felt something warm trickling down his chin, then a dull pain from his mouth as he realized, in his grimaced frustration, he had bitten cleanly through his bottom lip.
The adrenaline numbing the pain and his realisation of his impending doom cemented, his fascination got the better of him. The quivering in his hand ceased completely as he reached it up to his chin and spat out the bloody chunk into his palm. Zach could now hear their voices bellowing just from behind the miniature wall of weeds on the path in front of him, but he did not care. Nothing was going to stop him from seeing this. How many people can say they have seen their own bottom lip up close, un-stretched and not in the mirror? He carefully wiped the blood off of the small piece of flesh with his other hand and examined it. It was now a pale pink, 'from all the blood draining out of it,' he figured. It was still warm and the softest thing he had ever held in his life.
"Now step away from there and come over here. We're gonna fix you up nicely," one of the ghouls commanded as he gestured, but once again in vain as Zach did not understand a word of their babbling.
Zach looked up at the disturbing sight. Their pale, disfigured faces gleamed dully in the sunlight. Their snake-like eyes watching him intently. Their skeletal bodies ready to pounce at any moment. Zach pocketed his lip, calmly turned to the cliff edge and jumped...

Zach opened his eyes to a blinding white fluorescent light. He tried to move but his whole body was in searing pain and finally with some effort he managed to look down at it. He was lying in a bed. Both of his legs where in casts and angled up in the air from the pulley system they were rigged up to. His left arm was also in a cast and he felt his heart pound almost out of his chest then sink suddenly as he noticed that his entire right arm had been reduced to nothing but a bandaged stub. He closed his eyes and looked back up. A cold draft swept in through the window and for the first time in his life he could feel it hitting against his bottom gums.
Zach could hear a stirring coming from the side of the room. He looked to his left just as Dave was waking up from a bench against the wall.
"Daeh! What the h'uck hah'n'd?!"
"What happened?" Dave yawned while stretching his arms, "You took too much, cut off your bottom lip and jumped off your apartment onto the street is what happened."
"Holy shit! Oh yeah! Shit! H'an, i'h you only knew what I saw! Ha ha ha ha! I was tri'hing g'alls!"


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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 21st, 2013 @ 03:23 PM

Search for: Bridgeford

Results 1 through 84 of 149

Tucked away on the coastline, #Bridgeford is #NewEngland 's best kept secret. Discover us this holiday!

The #Bridgeford Franklin Middle School children are hard at work on their #FallPagent. Come help us wish the little angels luck!

#Bridgeford native Shirley Grahme is holding a poetry reading at the Cozy Bookshop tomorrow at 2pm. Please join us in giving her a warm welcome.

Beyond gorgeous sunrise this morning off the Gilmore St. pier. But don't take our word for it- visit #Bridgeford and see for yourself!

The #Bridgeford volunteer fire department is holding their annual chili cookoff fundraiser this Saturday at the Rosewood community center.

Boy, TGIF. Sooo, watch a movie, or get crazy and go ice skating #Bridgeford nightlife may be too wild 4 me lol

The #foliage on Milton St. is turning the shades of gold and red that remind you why you love #Bridgeford . Come fall in love yourself!

No word from #Bridgeford police dept. on abductions this month. 11 victims taken to date.

#Bridgeford police chief on abductions: "Whoever's responsible is on borrowed time. We take care of our own here."

Visiting the fam back in glorious #Bridgeford haha

Quiet New England town #Bridgeford rocked by 12th kidnapping, police say "no leads" yet

wtfffffffff 12 kidnappings in #Bridgeford???? Getting scared....

Horror in #Bridgeford : mutilated body of 1st abductee found in parking lot

#Bridgeford police dept. offers no specifics other than that a "derranged mind is at work." Residents told to stay calm but alert

From the staff: our hearts go out to the victim of the #Bridgeford kidnapping. They and their family are in our prayers.

Shit, violent crime in #Bridgeford ? World must really be going to hell

Visit to #Bridgeford gonna b a sad one... prayin for the families, stay safe every1

Evil strikes small town: 4 more bodies of kidnapping victims found throughout #Bridgeford, police fear worst for others

#Bridgeford Mayor Tompkins: "We shall find strength and comfort in community." Volunteer neighborhood watch patrols town

omg, so sad to hear about murders in #Bridgeford stay strong everyone!!

This f***ers gonna get an asskicking when we find him #Bridgeford pride

Stick together #Bridgeford we gonna get through this

Cant stop crying... me n #Bridgeford girls miss you baby <3

Another 6 #Bridgeford kidnapping victims are found dead, leaving only 1 unaccounted for. Search parties sweep the surrounding area.

As of yet, no motive is known for the recent #Brideford murders, which police call "unprecedented" in their brutality.

Omg I get sick everytime I think about the murders. Be careful, #Bridgeford!

Real sad story coming from small town called #Bridgeford. Horrible to think something so terrible could happen in a place like that

11 murders?? What a horrible thing for such a lovely town like #Bridgeford Visited last fall, had a wonderful time.

Just read about these poor people in #Bridgeford. Such an awful thing for a small town.

Reading about these terrible murders in little town called #Bridgeford. You guys are in my heart! <3

This #Bridgeford thing is some silence of the lambs shit. Hearin some seriously fucked up stuff about the bodies #hanniballector?

Hearing some gross rumors getting tossed around re: this #Bridgeford thing... #yuck

Googled the #Bridgeford story just now tryin to get some details. Big mistake. Think i'm gonna barf

O goddddddd, how could ne1 in #bridgeford DO shit liek that!!! Gunna havve nigthmares for sure

#Bridgeford police chief has "no idea" how details of case were leaked

#Bridgeford Chief is apologizes to families of victims, but claims residents "deserve to know what we're up against here."

#Bridgeford mother of sole survivor breaks down: "I can't bear thinking that's what's happening to my baby girl"

BREAKING NEWS: 12th #Bridgeford abductee found unharmed. Child was found "dazed, but conscious."

omg, last kidnapping victem in #Bridgeford found safe! Guardian angel was watching her :)

Soooo relieved to hear they found the little girl in #Bridgeford. They deserve some good news after all that!

So the kid they found in #Bridgeford is talkin about sumthin really bad thats gunna happen soon? Thnx internet, i wasnt sleepin 2nite neway

Poor kid in #Bridgeford has been THRU HELL, and now ppl r goin on abt sumthin she said?? try 2 imagin wat YOUd feel like aftr that

Creepyass predictions from kidnapped kid in #Bridgeford? #Yeahnothanks

Anybody else hear anything about this #Bridgeford kid? Hard details are hard to find.

LEAVE #BRIDGEFORD ALONE. They need time to HEAL, not stupid rumors!

#Bridgeford kid news freakin me out lol

This #Bridgeford kid stuff has got me buggin

GUys, it's a small, traumatized child. The #Bridgeford kidd has been through more than anyone could imagine. KLeave it be.

Psychologists say they have made no progress with treatment of #Bridgeford kidnapped child.

Parents of returned #Bridgeford child: "Our child is home, but she is not well."

Jesus that knocked me out of my damn chair. What noiw, #Bridgeford?

AFter all that freaky stuff, loud noises are not appreciated in #Bridgeford. Knock it off

ummmmmm did anyone else in #Bridgeford hear that just now? #wtf

Some kinda weird noise outside in #Bridgeford anyone kno whats up

Dafuq was that, #Bridgeford?

holy fuckin shit in #bridgeford what w

Spotted a bunch of army trucks heading toward #Bridgeford. Guess they're helping catch the kidnapper? #overkill

omfg, fukin choppers jus blasted my house gettin sikc of thiz #Bridgeford shit

Lots of helicopters heading toward #Bridgeford. Sure as hell don't look like search choppers, though.

Thought there was a damn parade so many mil vehicles goin past my house. Looks like they're headed toward #Bridgeford

Any #Bridgeford residents have any info on that sound you guys heard? We're overwhelmed w. curiousity #busybodiesunite

8 humvees rolling past towards #Bridgeford Having trouble believing they'd help with the kidnapping thing

Hate to add to the #groupthink but can any details from #Bridgeford about the weird noise and/or mil. presence rumors?

#Bridgeford rumor mill, I demand more: kidnapping? creepy kid? noise? military vehicles?? any and all details request4ed!

Whoa pretty sure I just heard gunfire coming from #Bridgeford hope I'm wrong

Have troops spotted heading for #Bridgeford really opened fire? and on whom or what?

DEFINITELY hearing gunfire comingf rom direction of #Bridgeford ex army ranger confirming that

Shit on a stick riflefire heard coming from #Bridgeford and possibly heavier ordi nance

#Bridgeford situation is snowballing really damn fast

/goddamn rumors from #bridgeford what could they possibly be shooting out there?

If that's the #bridgeford kidnapper they're shooting, they are lighting that fucker UP #getsum

8 humvees just rolled past heading toward #Bridgeford

Don't mean to be all johnny come lately to this #Bridgeford thing, but is this all for real??

Feel like freaking yourself out? Search #Bridgeford Shits getting crazy fast

I'm hearing weirder and weiirder things about #Bridgeford Anyone know what's going down up there?

China invading #Bridgeford??

Tryin to stay calm reading these #Bridgeford tweets #panicattack

Any official media covering this #Bridgeford thing? Think we need some professionals to clear this up

#Bridgeford, I've heard everything from N Korea invasion to cloverfield monster, WHAT IS HAPPENING UP THERE???

Jesus, stopped 20 miles up road from #Bridgeford sky looks like the 4th of july

i cant reach my mom or dad in #Bridgeford, does NE1 kno wats happening??? :(:(:(

Phones are down in #Bridgeford just tried calling about 30 diff numbers, none went through

My cousin tried to get to his gf in #Bridgeford but got stopped by army roadblock... shit is serious

Just heard that anyone tryin to get into #Bridgeford gets shot on sight, can anyone confirm??

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 21st, 2013 @ 03:25 PM

Results 85 through 149 of 149

PISSED as HELL military ppl told us to fuck off MY PARENTS ARE IN #Bridgeford WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

There is something deeply, deeply wrong and werid going on in #Bridgedford

Packin my bags and getting as fucking far away from #Bridgeford as possible suggest every1 dpes the same

Squadron of F-16s just buzzed my house, tearing hell straight towards #Bridgeford Someone's day is about to get a lot worse

Heard of deer just came running past my house, away from #Bridgeford eerie as hell

Local news just cancelled #Bridgeford segment w/o notice, anchor looks like he's going 2 shit bricks. Getting a bit freaked out

All this #Bridgeford stuff is really scaring me :( whats happening??

Fuckign hell #Bridgeford shit has got me running scared heading west god help us all

Jesus fucking christ all the windows in my house just broke, ground's shaking. Live about 3 miles from #Bridgeford

I'm 5 miles from #Bridgeford, picture frames keep falling off the wall #scaredashell

Jesus, these #Bridgeford rumors are escalating fast any offical confirmation yet?

omg omg omg omg jutws herd somethign REALLY weird in the wooc dbehinc my house 911 not goin thru im near #Bridgeford

These #Bridgeford rumors are insane, we couldn't possibly be dropping this much ordinance on US soil

My neighbors horses all just bolted, heading the exact oppisite direction of #Bridgeford thinking I should follow em

My one dog keeps barking a snarling the others hiding under the sofa, started right when I first heard about this #Bridgeford thing

JUST SAW 3 ppl running frm #Bridgeford toward rdblock got tackled, cuffed @ gunpoint & hauled off in humV RT

whatever's in #bridgeford is getting thru mil quarenteen if u live nearby evacuate NOW

OMG i just heard that heard that the army just shot a car tryin to get out of #Bridgeford is that ttrue???? Im so scared!!!!!

AC-130 firing on #Bridgeford can anyone cofirm or deny

Surface to air missile batteries en route to #Bridgeford praying this is some kind of drill

If half the stuff I'm hearing about #Bridgeford is true we are in some deep shit #pleaseconfirm

something's trying to get into my house. can't keep it out. help not coming. goodbye. #Bridgeford

This is Tom Kelly of #Bridgeford. Susan and Kyle, I love you and I will miss you

It will all be over soon #Bridgeford

I was in the Airforce for 8 years, and I know what a bombing run sounds like. #Bridgeford is being carpet bombed.

TAKE SCREENS OF YOUR #Bridgeford TWEETS FEDS TAKING THEM DOWN RT RT RT!!!

wtf happened to all my #Bridgeford tweets #censorship

Lots of #Bridgeford posts are going dark... someone pulling twitters strings

Someone going fucking big brother all over #Bridgeford news

Is twitter acting really weird for anyone else? Methinks it's something to do with #Bridgeford #conspiracy

Govt can't make what happend to #Bridgeford disappear

holy shit wiki article on #Bridgeford just went dark

wtf cnn article on #Bridgeford I was JUST READING gone without a trace... what happend up there?

About half the accounts I was following for #Bridgeford info just closed w/o a word, someone must be shuttering them

minute by minute coverage of #Bridgeford by fox ap nytimes cnn wsj cbs abc & nbc all went dead simultaneously #WTF

RT: TAKE SCREENS OF YOUR #Bridgeford TWEETS FEDS TAKING THEM DOWN RT RT RT!!!

Everytime I refresh another dozen #Bridgeford tweets disappear, wtf is happening?

Aaaaaannnd all my #Bridgeford tweets are now gone... don't suspect this one will last, either

WTF I POSTED ABOUT #Bridgeford A SEC AGO NOW ITS GONE WTF

Twitter's shitcanning anyone posting about #Bridgeford, be careful everyone

RT: TAKE SCREENS OF YOUR #Bridgeford TWEETS FEDS TAKING THEM DOWN RT RT RT!!!

Someone tryin to delete #Bridgeford tweets as fast as they go up...

Accounts thaat posted abt #Bridgeford dropping like flies, jesus

Fuycking hell. #Bridgeford tweets w/ any explicit detail being taken down first, everything i've archived lacking detail

Created an alt accnt my last got deleted save any #Bridgeford news you can

Obvious now, gov't redacting any #Bridgeford tweets they can find... god help anyone who was actually there when it happened

Unbelieveable... Twitter helps #Bridgeford coverup: "Earlier today, our internal servers malfunctioned, which caused many tweets to be accidentally deleted..."

fuck fcuk fuck details of the story going down the drain fast, SAVE ANY #BRIDGEFORD NEWS YOU CAN!!!!

GOVT COVERING UP #BRIDGEFORD DONT BELIEVE ANYTHING YOU READ

#Bridgeford story getting the black ink treatment. Sorry everyone, I tried

Twitter posting #bullshit about server malfunctions to hide #Bridgeford coverup, DON'T BELIEVE THEM!!!

GOD DAMN IT YOU CANT HIDE WHAT HAPPENED TO #BRIDGEFORD

Lol at #Bridgeford conspiracy nuts on #publicaccess this shit is priceless hahaha...

Some crazy #Bridgeford truther freaking out on the subway today, give it a rest dude lol

Homeless guy in front of my apt screaming something about #Bridgeford :( why can't we give proper help to #mentalillness ??

#Bridgeford truthers have to be my new favorite kind of crazy people #sorryevangelicals

What's up w. this #Bridgeford "conspiracy"? Only news I can find abt there is a story abt a lobster cookout from like 2003

#Bridgeford truthers pissing me off saying soldiers died there our #troops are in a REAL war not some hoax!!! >:(

Where are the "1000s" of #Bridgeford tweets people talk about? All I can find are a few dozen hysterics who are def. just trolling

Idiots talking about #Bridgeford conspiracies are so fuckin hilarious people believe anything lol #makemelaugh

#Bridgeford conspiracy nuts, I beg you: where is the evidence? Give me just a scrap and I'll believe it, promise.

#Bridgeford people can share a room in the nuthouse with 9/11 conspiricy theorists for all I care

If I see another post about #Bridgeford I'm gonna blow my fucking brains out. GET OVER IT

I was gonna try and figure out this whole #Bridgeford thing but then I remembered I'm not crazy lol

fb status about #Bridgeford = instant unfriend #lolConspiracyNuts

If one more #Bridgeford truther calls me a sheeple I'm not liable for my actions #getalife

Pretty soon, everyone will know what happened in #Bridgeford whether they want to or not.

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 27th, 2013 @ 08:18 PM

Title: Grunge Fiction

(The Gravekeeper)

Night hugged the graveyard like a winter blanket. Though it was nearing midnight, that didnt mean that the night brought total darkness. A couple miles away, neon lights shown dimly like a fading memory while casting small shadows over weathered headstones. The City always slept with its eyes open.

The graveyard was voided of life, save for a sliver of light that seemed molecular next to the City. It scanned across the surface of each gravesite, searching along every inch of grass. With the lights from the City, the flashlight was probably not even needed. There were no trees, bushes, or even a fence, so hiding would be difficult. The only place would be the shack that sat on the edge of the property like a sore thumb. But that would be a stupid place to use.

The lanky figure brandishing the light crept along a little further. Never pausing to look, but pivoted in all directions.
Finally as the light reached the other end of the graveyard, it stopped. And as it paused, we can see the features of the man holding the flashlight. He is the Gravekeeper. Long black hair hung down to his shoulders in dreadlocks. His face was haggard from many sleepless nights, and his clothes seemed a little loose on him. Bleak eyes rotated in their sockets as he gritted his teeth, revealing a pair of pearly yellows. After two minutes of looking around in a fixed position, he spoke. His voice was gravelly, and his words came out in the rhythm that almost matched the beating of wings from a raven that was passing above:

"A silent chill crawls up my spine,
I am told that this is a supposed sign.
Maybe I can feel you, a ghost of vengeance,
Here searching for blood and penitence.

Maybe you are stalking me like the prey
You stalked so well in the old days.
Oh, the old days were your love was still alive.
Horrible pain like that must be so hard to survive.

I cannot even imagine, nor do I want to.
Still silent? I have to be getting to you!"

The last word lingered in the surroundings as an echo until it faded away completely. He perked up his ears and looked side to side, as if to receive some kind of response to his taunts. But there was none. Of course.

"The dead are dead," he said at last, as if to reassure himself. "I of all people should know this." He paused again before rearing around.

"That bastard is gone!" The raven above head squawked loudly, as if offended by his sudden outburst. Gravekeeper looked up sharply with just enough time to see the raven heading for the abyssal horizon that faced the City.

"The fuck you know?!" He yelled after the bird.

The inside of the shack was actually very well kept. Of course that is always the case when you have as little belongings as the Gravekeeper. All that was in there was a stiff bed, rusty fridge, rickety dinner table, and an umbrella rack filled with shovels. And one umbrella.

The door slammed as the Gravekeeper entered but he could not sum up the effort to care. He went straight for the fridge door. Glasses clinked as he rummaged around inside.

"Got lunch meat, but no bread. That cup of yogurt has gone bad. Damn, no more string cheese." Suddenly he froze.

"WHO ATE MY STRING CHEESE!" He roared as he spun around. Directly in front of him now was the northwest corner of the shack. Every bit of the shack was well let. Every bit but that corner. A shadow covered the corner. A shadow so deep that the wall was not even visible.

A deep, rich voice flowed from the darkness:

"The enemy slumped into his cave,
Unaware that no one can save
Him from his long forgotten foe.
And yes, the years have been hard and slow.

Penitence is not what I have come for,
But I will take all blood you have to offer.
Now behold your soon coming death.
I will not blame you to use your last breath

To scream once the pain begins."

The Gravekeeper remained stupefied until, with the last word, the visitor came forth from the darkness. The man was dressed in a three piece suit that was a deep, dark color of purple. His hair was as black and long as the Gravekeeper, except his appeared clean and neatly flowed behind him.

The young man had a sinister beauty about him. Like looking at a demon brought forward to deceive and mislead you. A demon in a purple suit, and a pair of shades that hid his eyes from the world. A handsome devil of chaos.

Gravekeeper was flabbergasted. His mouth hung ajar while the rest of his face had a vacant expression.

"Y-you cant be alive... Angelo destroyed you!"

"No," the stranger interjected, "Angelo tore my soul apart, but didnt destroy me." Gravekeeper still seemed confused. Then he lifter an accusing finger to the man.

"It was Weaver! That treacherous bastard brought you back!" The visitor gave a condescending smile.

"The Weaver has nothing to do with my sudden return, Gravekeeper. As I said, what I want is blood. That "want" in itself is enough to defy the laws of the grave once in a while."

Now it was the Gravekeeper who smiled. He always had a trick or two. And know was not the time him to lose his cool.

"You always thought you were so great, didnt you? You sadistic bastard. Well Mr. Spook, You are gonna have to work for this piece of ass because I aint a cheap broad!"

As the Spook stepped forward, there was flurry of movement as Gravekeeper brought out his ace in hole. Inches from the face of the Spook was a shovel. Not just any shovel. The shovel was five feet of blessed steel, forged from Chinese Hell fire and had old scriptures in angelic script etched along the shaft. A weapon of sure death to any demon. And also cut through soil like butter.

The Spook winced as his skin started to sting where the tip of the shovel had barely nicked his cheek. This gave the Gravekeeper much pleasure indeed. He was going to enjoy the next part. But maybe it was not the killing he was looking forward to. Maybe it was that he would be able to say that he finally put on end to the Spook! Something the great Angelo Cherry Popper has had much trouble with for a long time.

"Not such a badass now, staring down the end of my spade!" Though the Spook seemingly remained calm, there was indeed anger and impatience beginning to boil and bubble beneath the still surface.

"Rest assured, I will finish what Angelo could not!"


"Zombie of the mind, craves food for thought."

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 27th, 2013 @ 08:22 PM

(The Peacekeepers)

"Ok, so let me see if I got this straight. The Gravekeeper is dead?"
"Yep."
"And they found him with his specially made demon slaying shovel crammed up his butt like a lesbian sex toy?"
"Pretty much."
"What the hell? I thought he was on the Citys top deadliest list!"
"To be honest, that list is kind of bullshit. Only the cops and lower class criminals use it so they know who not to mess with."
"And you think that he was killed by Mr. Jack Skeleton?"
"I know he was, Johnny."

Johnny shifted in that long grey trench coat of his. The passenger seat squeaked underneath him as if to voice an opinion on the matter. And honestly, as fast as crap was hitting the fan, I think I would listen. He looked to me, his wide brimmed hat casting a concealing shadow over his face.

"Why the hell did we warn that putz if he was not going to leave the City or something? I mean we wasted a quarter tank of gas going up there!"

"We have bigger problems. I dont think Jack has come back to just kill the ones who double crossed him."
"You dont mean-"
"Yeah, I do. And if I am right, the body count is going to get MUCH higher."

Johnny remained silent for a few minutes. I could never read his expressions, maybe because I cant see them half the time. It is seriously hard being partners with a guy who almost has no visible face. Finally he reached into a hidden pocket from within his coat, and pulled out a pack of smokes. Then, he proceeded to light up a fag and fill my car with a ghastly smell of burning tobacco. He has no courtesy.

Finally he said, while cooling exhaling a puff of smoke, "Let us hope that bastard said nothing about where Angelo is, or we might be screwed right in the down under. Just like the Gravekeeper."


"Zombie of the mind, craves food for thought."

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Response to Mwc13: Genre Hopping! Feb. 27th, 2013 @ 08:29 PM

(Previous night back at the Gravekeeper shack)

"You are going to tell me what I want to know now, or I will cram this up your ass like a lesbian sex toy!" The shack now lay in ruins. Everything was turned over and smashed, or maybe it was smashed and turned over. Shattered glass littered the floor like freshly fallen snow.

The Spook stood above a beaten and bloodied Gravekeeper, but he was far from unscathed. His coat lay in shreds in a corner, and a long gash ran along the right side of his vest. His blood was already starting to stain. The cut that was put on his cheek earlier was now accompanied by four others that were a little deeper than the first..

In his right hand was the demon slaying shovel. Their was smoke and a sizzling nose coming from where his hand grasped the shaft. He must be allergic to holy scriptures.

The Gravekeeper sat on the floor with his back against the wall. A small crimson streak ran down his temple, some of it getting caught in his dreadlocks. That is going to be really hard to clean out later.

The Gravekeeper chuckled lightly at the threat, but winced as if it caused him pain.

"Dang big boy," he started. "Dont you believe in foreplay?"

With lighting speed, the Spook stomped with all his might onto the already broken ankle of the Gravekeeper. A loud crushing and crackling noise filled the room as the bones broke apart completely. The Gravekeeper could now never play soccer again.

"AARRGGHH! Learn to take a joke asshole!"

"Tell me what I want to know NOW!" he yelled without moving his foot from the crushed ankle.

"OK! Ok, here is what you do," a devious and sly smile crept across his mouth. "You go down to the local pharmacy, ask for something called Viagra and it will help you go FUCK YOURSELF!"

The Spook didnt react this time. He remained silent, and he did not apply any more pressure to the ankle of the Gravekeeper. His shades hid any emotion.

"Oh come on! It is only fun if you get mad!" No reaction.
"That suit makes you look like a queer." Still no reaction.
"I got blood on your custom shoes." Nope, still nothing.

"FINE! I will tell you, Jack. You know why?" He continued to be statue of self control looming over the Gravekeeper.

"I want to see him kill you again. You were lucky the first time around, but this time he will rip you apart like a paper tiger! For the rest week, Angelo is going to be holed up at the Suicide Bride."

Jack twitched slightly. It was small, but Gravekeeper knew he struck a nerve that time. That is what he was wanting the whole time.

"Well lover, it seems I finally got you to come. Dont feel bad, it takes all woman a long time!" Jack said nothing. He threw down the shovel and steeped of his ankle. There was another crack from the ankle and a small gasp from the Gravekeeper. Jack had what he wanted.

As he turned to leave, the Gravekeeper suddenly called out to him. He must have had some broken ribs, for he grimaced again.

"What do you want, Terrance?" He asked without turning.

"I have some food for thought before you leave, Jack." The smile returned as he continued.
"You are stronger now than before, right? And your planning to use this power to ice that bastard Angelo?"

"Correct on both accounts."

"Alright. Here is something to scratch your head to later. You could not beat him the first time. This time around you are stronger, but you could barely defeat little old me. And his power his FAR superior to mine! How the hell do you beat a guy who already has your number, but is still more powerful than you?"

Jack remained motionless for several minutes. The silence felt like triumph to the Gravekeeper. He may not have won, but he knew his had not truly either.

Finally Jack turned to face him, and what the Gravekeeper saw almost made him scream. A snarl spread across the mouth of Jack, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth that slightly resembled a meat grinder.

But scariest of all, was the black mist that radiated from behind the lens of his shades. It looked as if darkness was leaking from his hidden eyes. Then with a booming and demonic voice that rattled the shack walls, cracked the one unbroken window, and made the heart of the Gravekeeper skip a beat, he said three words.

"BEND OVER, BITCH!"

Demons Testament:
"Serpents in the branches branch up to heaven's door.
Slithering at the windows, hellish intentions wish to explore.
Angels in the darkness hear that tapping on the glass.
They the ones sent down by their god into the abyssal mass

Crawl on their hands and knees while groveling at our feet.
They have heard of the sweet salvation and now crave the teat
That produces the milk of our blessed blessings.
Absolution through suckling is easier than confessing.

Hark! The beloved saints are a falling,
And the golden trumpets are a calling!

Sinners down in the deep
Stir from an endless sleep.
Clawing at the pit's torn and ragged walls,
They can now climb what was once too tall.

The trumpet's roar is growing louder,
But this only makes the demons prouder.
Hark! Your angels are burning.
Their screams keep the ideas a churning!"

.....The End?


"Zombie of the mind, craves food for thought."

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