Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

looking for 1 with blood,action,and a making-sense story line
thx in advance

This thread needs 3cc's of adrenaline stat!

Conquistador

I arrived in the new world with my friends and comrades on a windswept night with rain hammering down from the heavens as though the Virgin Mary wept for the crimes that we were about to commit. I remember looking up at the sky as I stood on deck; the moon was glowing in its infinite beauty, watching over us. The captain took this to be a sign of good fortune. I suppose he was correct, it was a sign of good fortune for us…well, most of us, but for the civilisation that we were about to eradicate, it was an omen of death.

I tugged lightly on the crucifix that hung about my neck, the silver chain rubbing gently against my skin as I silently whispered a prayer to the Virgin to keep us safe. As I did this, the ships captain rushed about ordering his crew to drop sails and prepare rowing boats so that we might use them to go ashore to start our wave of destruction.

My commander gave an order for us to fall into line. Like the soldiers we were, we fell in ranks and listened as Araceli told us what we were to do.

“Listen up men!” He cried out, “We are here for one reason and one reason only. We are here to gather the riches that the scouts have reported are in the region. When we get to shore, be on the look out for anything that could be valuable. Specifically, look out for Gold.”

Gold! That word sent a shiver down my spine. A metal so precious, it was worth killing for. We had all heard stories about how the new world was paved with the most precious of metals known to man, but none of us believed them. The tales spoke of rivers that ran yellow for the gold that lay on their beds. When we had been told we were to head to the new world we all, to the very last man, thought of the riches that we could bring back. Enough treasure so that not a single one of us would have to put our lives on the line to protect the interests of Spain again.

What’s that friend? I didn’t introduce myself? Forgive me, I am weary, and tired. I have been travelling for so long that my manners are removed from me.

My name is Paulo Montanino. I am responsible for the destruction of towns, the pain and suffering of innocents, and the deaths of warriors who deserved a better fate than the one they received. I am a murderer. I, am a conquistador.

Hey, I really respect what's being done here, so it'd be a shame to let it peter out like it seems to be.

I've been writing on the side for about 5 years now, and I'm really interested in picking up any help or pointers that anyone is willing to offer. I prefer to write more on the comedy side of things, but what I'm submitting is a tad more noir than usual (just the mood I was in) It is only the start of a piece, nothing else comes after it up to now, doesn't even have a title.

untitled

It was a night like no other. In truth it had been a week like no other. Stood over the bloodless bodies of yet another goon squad sent out to dispatch me however, I had no time to reflect. This was just business, I'd lost the desire to make anything personal anymore. Everyone was the same, another target on the range, ready for me to shoot full of holes and bleed their soul out onto the pavement. Not that any of these rat bastards had souls of course. They were just robots, running on whatever particular vice took their fancy. Child molestation, rape, drugs, hard alcohol, and all the thousands of crimes performed by thousands of people since the dawn of time. Though to tell the truth I wasn't much of a saint myself. I wasn't doing this to put my soul at ease, or to guarantee myself a cushy seat on the white side of the clouds. Hell, I'd lost track of why I was doing this most sordid of jobs, though I was loath to forget that it had been forced upon me in the first place. I was the doer in a world full of thinkers, the taker of lives, the moral objector getting results in the most immoral of ways.
The gun steamed in my hand, the heat from the discharge being soothed by the incessant rain. I'd sorted more problems with this baby than forests worth of paper, injunctions, court orders, sanctions and treaties had ever remedied. People find it extremely difficult to appeal and tell you that they know their rights when they've just swallowed a bullet. I flicked the safety on, they were all dead, and if I'd missed one then maybe they'd do me a favour and put a 9mm through my skull. I sure as hell couldn't, despite the numerous times I'd found myself with the Glock in my mouth and a bottle of Jim Beam burning in my stomach, trying in vain to cleanse the blackness that had corrupted my heart. Sometimes I'd just sit there for an hour or two, not moving, time flowing in a liquid state around me, yet I just couldn't move my finger two inches and end this god awful trip I was on. By now I knew that it just wasn't going to happen, so I hadn't attempted suicide for at least a week now. I stood for a while, staring at the bodies of my attackers, daring one of them to do the decent thing and plug me. They didn't of course, and instead just lay there, faces frozen in anguish, yet underneath it all blissfully happy and free, knowing that they'd done their best.
That was the real kick in the teeth. I was the best gunman in the city. I don't like to use the term mercenary, because I never accept payment. The cops always refer to me as a criminal/murderer/serial killer but I rebuff that label, because I'm not gaining anything by my actions. These people could live for all I care, but there are some things that no-one has control of, not even the man with the gun. That's all I was, a man, with a gun. A gunman. A severely depressed, alcoholic, tranquiliser dependant gunman.

Any comments would be welcomed. And by the way, that conquistador piece is really good. It's extremely visual, which is something that I always struggle with. You clearly have lots of talent.

allo ladies and gents

Im back once again

but i got to tell you guys something (though you'll probs get the main info from BBM)

i wont be active until probably the 19th (it really depends how quickly i recover)

because i have a heart operation this saturday.

and it will be quite some time before i can do anything

and im kinda worried about surviving, cause chances are 50/50 :\

but im trying to be positive right now, and hope for the best ya know?

well this post was mainly for Myst_williams, Will (A.K.A Coop83), TNT, and -TheDoctor-

so i'll see you guys on the 19th.

i might post one more little story before then, but that'll be it

later guys

Dangan

The New Ground's Story, part 13.2 released.

I'm almost done with this story that started all the story threads on New Grounds get ready for a really nice final :)

At 8/2/06 07:53 PM, BigDaddyAddy wrote: untitled

That's a good piece. There were a couple of tiems that i thought you could have sued a fullstop instead of a comma, but that's about it. Very well written. Kudos to you.

Any comments would be welcomed. And by the way, that conquistador piece is really good. It's extremely visual, which is something that I always struggle with. You clearly have lots of talent.

Thanks. I threw that together in about 10 minutes just to try and inject some life into this place without resorting to spamming up by posting " bump".

I'm consdiering continuing it as I have, what I cosndier to be a rather good, idea for the plot line. I may post the next bit at some point if I decide to continue it.

At 8/2/06 08:34 PM, Dangan wrote: later guys

Dangan

O_o

I'd ask if you were joking but I somehow don't think you are.

Seriously mate, I hope everything goes well for you.

I'd say more, but there really aint much more to say other than I hope you get through this, get well soon and that I'm sure you'll be fine. You'll be being looked after by experts so you'll be in the best hands possible.

Continuation fo Conquistador

The first day on land was the hardest. We had to trek through miles upon miles of jungle before we found anything of interest to us. We lost a lot of men on that day. Some were bitten by animals, others just went deeper into the jungle, away from the main party, and never came back. In all, we lost twelve men on that day. Most of them were my friends.

It was hard to go to sleep that night knowing that the people I was closest to in the world were dieing, or dead. I had a dream. It was a strange dream by any standards. A large man, with not like mine or yours though friend, it was darker, much darker, yet…somehow…more vibrant at the same time. He was stood upon a mountain which overlooked a city. I do not know how, but I knew the name of the city that this giant of a man overlooked. It was called Machu Piccu.

It was a city that was crafted from pure stone. Its buildings seemed to glint as the golden rays of the sun bounced off the stone and back into the sky. The city itself was vibrant. People with a kin of a colour I had never seen before rushed about going about tasks with tools in there hands. Women seemed to be sorting through seeds of some kind of crop, though where this crop had come from was a mystery to me at the time, as there was nowhere for it to go, for the city was placed halfway up a mountain with no land free to grow anything.

The giant watched over the city as his dark eyes scanned the land around him as though he was looking for something. Then, his eyes fell upon me. They were so dark, so cold. They drained all the warmth from my body and I was left standing there, looking into the eyes of the behemoth as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Welcome traveller,” His voice echoed all around me, bouncing off the mountains and valleys that surrounded Machu Piccu, “You are here for a reason. You will be a message to your people in what you consider the old world. You and your friends will be an example to all who would challenge my dominion in this land. When you come to this place, seek me out traveller. Seek me out so I may touch your heart and deliver my message to your people.”

I know now why, but I looked away from the giant and looked down upon the city. A fire raged through the streets consuming all that stood. Not a single man could be seen to be moving, not a child could be seen to playing. And as this happened, the Giant just stood and watched as his city burnt before him.

I awoke in the morning with one image stuck in my mind. The cold dark eyes of the giant man piercing deep into my soul. I kissed the crucifix as I got down on my knees to pray to the Lord that the image be removed from my mind. My prayers were not answered though. To this day, I feel those eyes staring into my soul.

Comments?

I'm back for the time being.
I hope nobody dies :(

Dont know you Dangan, but after my mum has recently had an angina attack and has had to have an operation, i hope all goes well for you and you come back better than ever. Good luck man.

Now, on a writers guild note, has anyone got some time to review my piece? 'Green Isle' near the top of this page?

Thanks all!

At 7/24/06 06:09 PM, scukmafioso wrote: Green Isle

The Beginning of the End.

“This is the year where hope fails you, the test subjects run the experiments, and the bastard you know is the hero you hate.”

The teenager clambered from the twisted wreckage of his seat.

First thing I notice is the use of "The teenager". To me that doesn't sound right. If you want to make it so the reader doesn't know the characters name then jsut go for a he or she, that way the reader gets a leats a small ide aof what it is they are dealing with. " The teenager" doesn't tell anything about the character apart froman estimation of their age.

The maelstrom of rubber, metal, flesh and the various fabrics in the plane all burnt, almost with a purpose to invade every crack and crevice available to its airborne reach.

This sentence is a bit messy in my opinion. If you can clean it up a little it'll be good. I like the sue of the word maelstrom to describe the effects of the crash though.

This nasal assault jogged his cheap plane flight food addled memory, sending a searing pain through his skull as he had a flashback of the crash.

Use of the word "this" implies that ther eis more than one nasal assualt going on. I'd change it to "the" but that's just me.

Images of people dying as they ran down the aisles, the stewardess screaming as the brandy she poured over herself as she fell fuelled the fire burning at her feet, the flames creeping up her body as she squealed and flailed her arms in a vain attempt to put the fire out.

Again, a bit clumsy in palces here. Re-write it so its clearer and it'll be fine.

A young businessman trying to get out of the cubicle, the stall door hitting the burning young woman in the face, knocking her unconscious, making her body fall into the cubicle door, blocking the mans escape as she slumped against it. The pilot’s voice was still echoing over the tannoy, his pleas to keep calm had turned into screams, as both he and his co-pilot lost control of the plane. The rest was a whirling thunderstorm of light, pain and death.

You go from a present tense description " A young businessman trying to get out of the cubicle" to a past tense description " The pilot’s voice was still echoing over the tannoy, his pleas to keep calm had turned into screams,"

Change the first bit to " A young businessman was trying to get out of the toilet" or soemthing of the like anyway.

Anyway, that sort of stuff is what jumps out at me throughout the piece. If you can clean up bits and pieces here and there you'd have a very good piece.

You've got some talent here me thinks. Keep it up.

I made a mystery based on an RPG I set up on k2xl.com's riddle topic. It's called Tea Time Terror. I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note, any name or situation that relates to real life names or situations is unintentional and completely coincidental.

Detective Gary Berjoun finally had his first case. Now, the detective was not the kindest person, nor was he the most polite. Often, he'd try to steal equipment from his school. He was finally diagnosed with a kelptomanic disorder by his shrink, Dr. Lobe. This was why he rarely recieved cases. This was why this case was special.

"Hello, madam, I am Detective Gary Berjoun..." He said to the live lady standing in the one room house. Now, though this was a one room house, it was very well decorated. He opened the fridge... Some cheese, slightly nibbled. Nah, not worth eating.

Now, it was time to look at the dead woman. A big gash of blood. Looked like a nintey degree cut, probably from hitting the table. No evidence showed forced trauma to the back of the neck. That means it was post mortem.

"I have no idea what happened!" Cried the live woman. "We were just having tea, and she suddenly colapsed, hit her head, and fell on the floor! She must have had a heart attack!" The live woman then gave information about the dead woman. She had a husband and three kids, 18, 10, and 4, she went to pubs, and the husband of the dead woman was once married to the live woman.

Tea, eh? Well, the body was identified as Melissa Adrian, eh? She got sent to the lab, eh? AND BERJOUN IS NOT CANADIAN, EH?

So, the tea table in the center of the room was set up, the tea on the live lady's side spilled. There were half-eaten stuff everywhere.

He looked at the shelf... Hmmm, books, wine, (good date, too...) and a strange box with a mouse and crossbones. Rat poison, or Arsenic.

Ah yes, Arsenic and Old Lace. What a great book. It was about a couple of old ladies who killed people by having them drink a mixture of Arsenic and Cyanide mixed with elderberry wine. It killed them instantly.

So, he opened up the bottle of wine, which dated 1956, and drank it. "Detective Berjoun, what are you doing!?!?!?" Screamed the live lady.

"Oh, whoops... I get a bit absent minded when I'm on cases...." He dropped the wine bottle and gave her $100. "Go buy yourself some wine or something. Atleast I know that the Arsenic didn't kill her....Hello? What's this? Books on explosives, chemicals. How suspicious. I'll be seeing you much later." And before he gave her a chance to talk, he staggered out drunkedly. Wow, he thought. I must've drank more than I thought....

So, Berjoun went to the pubs. The bartenders ought to have some good information. "Yea, Crazy Adri? She was such a kook. Always brought her daughter for a drink. Argued all the time. Girly wants a car."

"Noticed anything else?" Asked Berjoun. Other than a medicine, the bartender said nothing. "Ok, you're under arrest for serving a minor. The oldest child that Melssa had was 18.... Umm, are those nuts free?" And he slipped the entire plate of nuts into his pocket.

Well, it was time to check on Melissa's family. The husband, Dominik, was rocking in his bed. He said that the day before she died, Melissa was complaining of light headedness. He said it was probably low blood sugar. She went to her girlfriends house, the live lady's house, to eat and get some better blood sugar.

The daughter of 18 was away. She is in college, but she comes home every Friday to Sunday so that she could go drink with her mom. The daughter does not have a car, so she had to take the nasty train that ran through the town.

The son of 10 was quite cranky. He's locked away in his room full of expensive toys, pouting.

The daughter of 4 was giggling around her usual life. She was not completely aware of how terrible the death of her mom was, but she sensed something was missing....

Well, with information of where the daughter lives, Detective Berjoun decided to pay a visit. She was a very badly raised child, and it shows in her dorm and choice of friends.

"Yea, my mom's a bitch, I pretty much go to the house just to see my little bro and sis." She said. "She didn't get me a car. Ugh! You could've thought she'd get it in her will or something. Jeez, she's so greedy. Oh, hold on..." She went on her camera phone. The screen was capable of sending video.

"We argued about getting me a car. That's all we ever do when we go to the bar. But she won't get me one, because she's a total bitch that will never get me anything." She jumped into her bean-bag and screamed so that the screams were muffled in the bag. Interesting anger management tactic, thought Gary. I have to try that some time I feel angry.

Back at the lab, Detective Berjoun went to autopsy expert Dr. Bernard DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOhappyhappyhappyOO
OOOOOOOOOM

"The body has poison, the type you'd find in a college level chemistry textbook." Said Dr. DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOhappyhappyhappyOO
OOOOOOOOOM. "It's not as simple as arsenic.

"What's interesting about it is that it effects the brain like a time bomb. It seems like it happens immidiately, but it takes time, based on the pulse of the person who has been poisoned.

"The poison could be administered oraly or intraveneously. Unless she was suicidal, she took it oraly. Investigation on skin shows no punctures.

"The poison was, indeed, cause of death. It's made with high-quality materials so dangerous, you need a liscense just to look at them. The way it was made was so difficult, it would take days to make. It involves seperating and reassembling elements in chemical processes. The way it was done was painstakingly difficult, only an expert could do it."

Poison.... Wait, thought Berjoun. Weren't there some chemestry textbooks in the live woman's house that I was going to steal?

Thus, a return to the house was in order. As soon as he touched the books, the lady said, "Heheheh... You interested? Well..." She gave him a business card "... If you ever have a hot date or are on a honeymoon and wanna spice things up, just call me."

The card says:

"Booming Betsy, fireworks technician. For personal and public preformances. Call 1-800-555-5555 or order a preformance online at www.example.com"

Heh, books about bombs, earth science, chemistry. What a nice lady.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now that there were no suspects, Detective Berjoun needed to find some more clues... What was the daughter taking in her college course again?

"Ugh, your hair...." She combs it a certain way. Berjoun looked in the mirror. Wow, he thought, I look really good! "There. Tada! Cosmetics. Some people are so insecure, so I'm helping them by making them pretty!"

He looks at her books. An extended volume on the nervous system. Wow, massage therapy, too. She may be really trashy, she may drink lots of alcohol, but she's a surprisingly good scholar. No chemical books about poison, only ones about makeup and skin cleanser.

"Dr. DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOhappyhappyhappyOO
OOOOOOOOOM?" Asked Berjoun. "Could a cosmetic expert make the time-bomb poison?"

"First of all, call me Bernard." Said Dr. Bernard. "Well, the cleansers are made up, usually, of benzol peroxide or another type of cleaning alcohol. It needs to be administered in moderate doses, otherwise it could burn through your skin. If you drink it, it would burn through your organs." That doesn't sound like a time bomb....

"The makeup is made of minerals found in the ground." Based on evidence, the daughter couldn't have possibly made the poison.

Back at Melissa's house, Detective Berjoun looked through almost every room, but there's no sign whatsoever of any poison books or materials to make the poison that killed her. The only room he couldn't check was the ten year old's room. He's still pouting in there, and there's a keep out sign.

He felt a tugging on his shirt. "John, could you help daddy? He's sad." Berjoun noticed that Domonik had still been in the rocking chair....

He went to his shrink, Dr. Lobe. "Ah, your bringing your work into our sessions." He jots something down. Gary said "No, this is a psychological problem, and seeing as you're a psychological doctor...." Dr. Lobe scratches the note out, and Gary asks "How would a person act after their wife has died?"

"Ah, yes... I have many people who come to me for consolance of their spouse's death. The situation is this: their loved one, that they have been living with for a long time, has left this world. They cope with it in different ways: Denial; Acceptance and depression, extreme rememberance, or sticking. Sticking is where they keep things that their spouse touched. I think it's good to an extent."

Well, the husband seemed to be depressed. Also a bit thin. Giving himself a little professional point, which he keeps in his notebook of professional points, Detective Berjoun gave Domonik the number of Dr. Lobe.

"Thanks," Said Domonik. "I'm feeling much better." An idea came to Berjoun's head. "Give me your credit card.... the history, I mean. Of what you purchased."

He sees that Domonik's credit card very recently had many items, most of which were lab equipment. Amongst that, there was and electrolisis machine. There were also multiple beakers, a few graduated cylinders, and multiple chemicals; some radioactive! Neither Melissa nor Domonik were scientists of any kind, but Domonik said that he got those for his child.

And what was found at the elementary school?

The entire school was plastered with newspaper clippings of a child with the last name Adrian. The first name is that of the middle child, Thomas. The words on the papers could be summed in one word: "Prodigey."

"Oh, his mother died?" His teacher said. "Well, I hope it doesn't shut his creativity. If it does, this school, and the entire town, is doomed! We run on the money that Thomas gets us for higher scientific studies. Also, it brings many famous scientists in our path, laying a trail of money wherever they go. That boy runs the town." Apparently, he's a chemistry genius. He inspired his sister to go into cosmetics, and the little sister plays with atom toys. The only books he read were textbooks. He solved many scientific problems, and even identified 3 whole chromasomes in the human body and what each genotype does for the phenotype. Thomas has assisted in genetic research more than any other scientist ever.

Rumor had it that this boy was starting to make the first human clone. Since it's illegal in America, he's keeping it as a rumor.....

Detective Berjoun needed something. A warrant.

"And I should give you a warrant to this town's cash cow....why?" The judge asked. He was going to need some evidence for a warrant. And he had it.

"Excuse me, Dr. DOOOOOO, I mean, Dr. Bernard?" Berjoun hands him the credit card list. "Would any of the chemicals and equipment in this list be able to make the time-bomb poison?" He gives a list of the chemicals needed, most of which unpronounceable, and the equipment needed for it.

"Your honor, I have evidence." He shows the list and shows the credit card history.

"Hmmm.... You present a convincing case. Very well, I grant you access to the room of the ten-year-old."

Upon entry, the boy was not in the room. There was advanced survelience equipment around the door. Apparently, it saw his warrant, and decided not to interfere. And the trap-door at the floor. What was that all about, thought Berjoun.

He entered... it was very dark. He felt a step, and decided to walk downward... There was a bluish-green glow from the bottem. As he got closer, it got more intense.... Finally, he was at the foot of the steps....

Detective Gary Berjoun still cannot get the picture of the horrific scene out of his mind.

"Woah.... Holy shit.... WHAT IS THAT THING!!!!?!!?!?!?!!?!?!??" Gary yelled.

"It's a clone." He shivered. There was a naked adult female in a liquid tube. "A clone.... Of his mother...."

Among other things, there were file cases. Lots of file cases. Entire filecases called such things as "Chromasome 1, part 8." All the files were filled with letters, A, C, G, and T. There were commentations of entire folders, such as "This DNA sequence gives the amino sequence for the proteins in the third eyelash."

And there's another file case. Miscelaneous experiments. Among them, the time bomb poison.

But the clone of his mom.....

"Oh, yes, that...." Thomas Adrian had entered. "It's not my first clone. How do you think that I got all that information on the chromasomes? Cloning, of course.... 105,289 clones, exactly. I perfected the cloning process when I was 5, the fast-age process when I was 7, and two years ago, I found out how to make them grow normally after they reach a certain age. I call that the "Sci-Fi Clone." But, it's not really Sci-Fi anymore, huh. Like Submerines, or Atomic Bombs.... But, there is one thing that I've never been able to do: transfer memories from one body to another."

He pointed to a jar. "That's mom's brain. Each nerve cell contains certain chemicals that are put into memory and sorted throughout the brain. Each brain works differently in the sorting method. I've analyzed my own brain, and I have a catagorization sorting. Some people have rhyme sorting, synonym sorting, and the list goes on... I will attempt to transfer her memories now. Wanna watch?"

Dumbfoundedly, he nods. He connected a few tubes, and turned on a switch. "Ummm, why am I naked?" Melissa said. "Mom," Thomas said, with a wide smile on his face. "...there's no problem, I'm a genius!"

Eyes wide, Detective Gary Berjoun ran to the court. "Your honor!!!!! What are the laws on clones?"

"Human clones are illegal."

Wow, that was quick. "Well, then, I have something to tell you about... Thomas Adrian."

Detective Berjoun told him the story.

The judge picks up the phone. "Mayor, I have to leave. I am sorry, I quit." He hung up. He put on his hat. And left without a trace.

Berjoun sighed and reviewed the clues. The cause of death was poison. Time-bomb poison. It works based on pulse. Depressents make the pulse slower.... Stimulants make the pulse faster...

"I'VE GOT IT!" Yelled Berjoun, triumphantly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He gathered everyone. The Live woman, the daughter, Domonik, Thomas, the little girl, the bartende, and Melissa Adrian.

"I bet you all know why you're here." Said Detective Berjoun. I always wanted to do this, thought Gary's personal self. "The murder of Melissa Adrian."

"Sir," said Melissa, "I'm right here."

"Oh, yes, right. You were murdered, but put into a perfect clone body by your son. The reason your memories are still in place was because of a nervous transfer.

"As I was saying, one of you murdered Melissa Adrian, and it was...."

Cmon, Gary, thought Berjoun, build up the suspense....

"YOU! ALEXIS ADRIAN!" He pointed to the 18-year-old daughter.

"You had the perfect oportunity. Go to the bar with your mother, slip some poison from a vile into her beer. But who made that for you? Why, Thomas Adrian. You had no beef against your mother, though. You were thoroughly confident that your procedure would work, that you'd risk your mother's life on it. But you knew that Alexis didn't like her. She wanted her dead for not giving her a car. So, you told her to put the poison into her drink. When you got her brain, you drained the poison from it so no neurological damage would occur. Thomas Adrian, I arrest you with criminal masterminding. And I arrest you, Alexis Adrian, for first degree murder."

Thus, Detective Gary Berjoun solved his first case. After a hard days work, he went to the pub. It was closed. Oh, yea, I forgot, he thought. I fired the bartender. Whoops.

Live damn it!

I refuse to let this club die!

Any of the "Old guard" who took part in the collab may recognise this. I've started having another go at writing it. the actualy idea we had for it was goo,d it's jsut that 7 or 8 people working on one story just doesn't work :-)

The Elijah Project

The neon glow of the chronometer outside my window cast a dull light into my bedroom as I pulled myself out of bed. It had been three days and I still hadn’t heard anything. This wasn’t surprising really; when you get invited to join an “underground resistance” it just reeks of a bad joke by some idiot pre-pubescent kids who think it’s funny to get you to wander into one of the restricted sectors and get caught by the guards. Pre-pubs like that need to be disciplined in my opinion. Only problem is that there isn’t anyone to discipline them. The ‘rents of these kids just don’t bother and there aren’t any law enforcers down here to put a stop to the idiotic antics of the kids. The Bob’s don’t come down into the slums you see. Too dangerous apparently and they don’t want to put their lives on the line to protect the decent honest people that are forced to call this place home.

As I walked over to the closet to pull out my work clothes my eyes glanced across to the chronometer. Eight O’clock. I had half an hour before I had to get down the shaft for my shift. I’m a maintenance worker you see? I spend my days, and the occasional night, down the shafts making sure the people above us get their plumbing and their filtered air that gets sent down here to get fixed before being sent up back to the upper levels for the Athorians to inhale.

What? You don’t know what an Athorian is? The Athorians are the guys that took over our planet in the Resource War in the 21st century. They came down at the moment when we were most vulnerable and took over completely. We didn’t even fight back. They took over and started taking everything for themselves and cast the majority of us mere humans down into the pits of hell itself. Yes, the slums really are that bad kid, and the Athorians don’t do a damned thing to improve it for us. They just sit up there in their palaces on the surface eating the food that‘s developed on the upper levels of the slums and sending down their shit for us to use as a fertilizer for the crop factories. Yes, crops are grown in factories. Jesus H Christ kid! Didn’t your pay-the rents teach you anything? Don’t answer that. They obviously didn’t, but that doesn’t surprise me at all really. It just proves the point I made earlier about parents not giving a rat’s ass about what their kids know or get up to. Yes kid, crops are grown in factories now, it’s the only way to get food seeing as the Athorians are too high and mighty to get off their bloated asses to do the work themselves. But that isn’t relevant, and I need to get back to the story before I end up boring you to death with the details of how the crops are grown now.

Where was I? Oh yeah, it was eight O’clock and I had my shift down the shaft at half past the hour. I was due to work in recycling shaft 3, so I was going to be up to my knees in shit, which I wasn’t looking forward to, I can tell you. I’d got myself dressed and went into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast…or dinner. I don’t know whether it was morning or night really. All the lights artificial see? It’s either from the big chronometer that stood in the middle of the sector or from the street lamps. I got myself something to eat and sat down. That is when it happened, when my life turned upside down.

A small envelope slid underneath my door. Now that really did surprise me. I’d heard about letters from when I was in school but I’d never seen one before. It was kind of odd opening it up and unfolding the letter. What was even odder was what was written in the letter:

Dear Tobias,

It has come to our attention that you may be the sort of person that we are looking for. A few days ago you were contacted by a man who offered you a position within an organisation. You told this man to go away, although, from what I hear the language you utilised was somewhat more fruitful. Tobias, what that man told you was not a joke. There is a movement, and we need men like you to ensure we are successful.

Do what you want with this letter, discard it, burn it, throw it away. All we ask is that you consider our offer of a better life. A better life for you, and the rest of us. A life without the Athorians who leave us to wallow in our own filth! If you are interested then come to the sector 5 maintenance shaft. We will meet you there when the clock strikes twelve, after your shift is up. I hope you will be there.

Yours,
Elijah

I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry when I read the letter. The way it was worded, the style of writing all made it look like a fake. I screwed it up and threw it in the bin. I got my stuff together and headed out to work. As I got to the door I stopped, turned around looked at the letter in the bin. Sector 5 wasn’t out of my really, and it wasn’t a restricted zone so I wouldn’t get into trouble…what did I have to lose?
---------

I'm planning on continuing it, 'cause, in all honesty, I think what we came up with was good, and it deserves to be finished in my opinion. It just needs re-writes and less plot twists.

At 8/27/06 07:42 PM, Mick_the_champion wrote: Haha, aye. I remember when we were writing this I would get bored and have the main character kill people for no reason.

I remember too clearly you doing that at least the once. The guy you killed then turned into a robot or something stupid like that. The plot got seriously confusing after that as I had no idea wtf was going on.

Hopefully I'll be able to to sort out the mess we left it in and give it a decent ending.

Okay, I would like to join!

Here's an excerpt from something I wrtoe...

"The car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel."
- The Dead Flag Blues, Song, Godspeed You! Black Emporer

P r o l o g u e
--------- W a r ---------

TomFulp crouched behind the armored vehicle, look hastily left and right. He held his rifle at ready. He looked beside him, to see Wade Fulp next to him.
"How many rounds do you have?" aksed TomFulp.
"Umm..." said Wade. "70 bullets."
A large explosion next to the vehicle made Wade and Tom look up.
"We need to get out of here," said Tom. "We shouls take this car." He banged the door of the metal, armour-plated vehicle.
"Agreed," agreed Wade.
"We should gather up some more troops frist, though, this truck holds plenty."
"Yeah."
Tom stood up, holding his rifle. Wade stood up, too. Tom ran in front of Wade. As soon as the 2 emerged from their previously hidden state, blue gunfire was at their feet. Wade lifted his gun up and took a shot. As the bullet collided with the man's chest, hot, red blood sprayed up. 2 other soldiers put their guns down and frntically gave him CPR. It was too late.
Tom and Wade hid behind a huge rock, and shouted.
"HEY! HEY!! SOMEBODY, ANYBODY!!"
Suddenly they heard a voice.
"Help! Help!"
Tom and Wade ran towards the voice. They got there, and saw Evark trapped under a rather large rock.
"1 2 3... heave!" said Tom and Wade together, as they pulled Evark out from under the rubble.
"Thanks," said Evark.
"Come with us," said Tom.
"Okay," said Evark.
The 3 of them started running. Distant explosion noises could be heard, as well as screams and gunfire. The 3 of them kept on running, though. They saw General SlipperyMooseCakes firing a plasma shotgun at enemies.
"HEY!" Tom shouted. "GENERAL!"
SlipperyMooseCakes looked their way. "What is it?"
"General, come with us, we're leaving!" shouted Tom.
"Okay!" Slippery MooseCakes fired of another shot which hit an enemy. He ran towards the 3 of them.
"We need 2 more people!" said Tom.
The 3 of them ran, and quickly ran into BananaBreadMuffin, holding an enormous rocket launcher.
"We're leaving," said Evark. "Let's go."
Without saying a word, BananaBreadMuffin fired his last rocket into a crowd of enemies. He dropped the rocket launcher and came with the 4 of them.
Finally, the four of them found Denvish. They took off with him, and went back to the truck.
A gunshot.
A gasp.
Wade was down, a gunshot in his chest. He was gone.
Tom screamed into the air, and then the 4 of them drove off.

At 8/28/06 07:40 PM, -Frenzy- wrote: Okay, I would like to join!

Welcome :-)

P r o l o g u e
--------- W a r ---------

TomFulp crouched behind the armored vehicle, look hastily left and right. He held his rifle at ready. He looked beside him, to see Wade Fulp next to him.

First thing I notice is a small bit of tense confusion. You go from the past tense when you use the word " Crouched" and then go into the present tense when you use the word "look". You need to make sue that all your verbs are in the same tense. I'd recomend sticking with past tense as that's the easiest one to write in.

"How many rounds do you have?" aksed TomFulp.

You've already established that Tom's last name is fulp, so ther eisn't any need to repeat it. Doing so jsut makes it a bit repetitive in my opinion.

"Umm..." said Wade. "70 bullets."

A little tip: if you can avoid using the word said as a descriptive of how someone talks then do so. Using said just makes it dull as the reader doesn't get a good view of how the character is speaking.

In the part oft he dialogue above it's possible to use both replied and hesitated in place of the word said, and, in my opinion, that reads a hell of a lot better.

A large explosion next to the vehicle made Wade and Tom look up.

show Vs Tell. Don't jsut tell the reader that there was an explosion, show us it. Describe the sound, the heat, the consequences of the explosion. Did it leave an echo afterwards? Did it jolt the characters and force them to run for cover? Stuff like that makes a big difference in the quality of a story.

"We need to get out of here," said Tom. "We shouls take this car." He banged the door of the metal, armour-plated vehicle.
"Agreed," agreed Wade.
"We should gather up some more troops frist, though, this truck holds plenty."

Misuse of a comma. You don't need the comma after first. It jsut detracts from the impact of the sentence.

"Yeah."
Tom stood up, holding his rifle. Wade stood up, too. Tom ran in front of Wade.

Show vs Tell again. Don't jsut say Tom stood up, tell us whether he elaped to his feet, got up cauitiously or something else entirley. Did he dash ahead of Wade? Did he sprint or jog?

Whilst using the word ran tells the reader what is happening, it doesn't give them a proper visual image. And that's what you need to aim for when describing stuff, a proper visual image that the reader can picture clearly in their mind.

What i tend to do when I'm writing a description of something is picture it in my minds eye and then make a list of every important aspect that I want to describe. If I were to do it for the story you've written the aspects I'd be looking at would be tom and Wade( what they are wearing, expressions on their faces, how they speak and act etc), the explosion and what the area looks like( if it's a battle field are there bodies around? Are there craters where bombs have exploded, that sort of thing.)

As soon as the 2 emerged from their previously hidden state, blue gunfire was at their feet. Wade lifted his gun up and took a shot. As the bullet collided with the man's chest, hot, red blood sprayed up. 2 other soldiers put their guns down and frntically gave him CPR. It was too late.

Never use a number to represent a word if you want what you've written to be taken seriously. It just makes you look somewhat silly and distracts the readers attention away from the action and onto the number.

Tom and Wade hid behind a huge rock, and shouted.
"HEY! HEY!! SOMEBODY, ANYBODY!!"
Suddenly they heard a voice.
"Help! Help!"
Tom and Wade ran towards the voice. They got there, and saw Evark trapped under a rather large rock.

Show Vs tell again.

"1 2 3... heave!" said Tom and Wade together, as they pulled Evark out from under the rubble.
"Thanks," said Evark.
"Come with us," said Tom.
"Okay," said Evark.

Overuse of the word said as ther descriptiv eof how the characters talk. Makes it dull and labourious to read. I would highly recomend you change it.

The 3 of them started running.

Numbers for words again.

Distant explosion noises could be heard, as well as screams and gunfire. The 3 of them kept on running, though. They saw General SlipperyMooseCakes firing a plasma shotgun at enemies.
"HEY!" Tom shouted. "GENERAL!"
SlipperyMooseCakes looked their way. "What is it?"
"General, come with us, we're leaving!" shouted Tom.
"Okay!" Slippery MooseCakes fired of another shot which hit an enemy. He ran towards the 3 of them.
"We need 2 more people!" said Tom.
The 3 of them ran, and quickly ran into BananaBreadMuffin, holding an enormous rocket launcher.
"We're leaving," said Evark. "Let's go."
Without saying a word, BananaBreadMuffin fired his last rocket into a crowd of enemies. He dropped the rocket launcher and came with the 4 of them.
Finally, the four of them found Denvish. They took off with him, and went back to the truck.
A gunshot.
A gasp.
Wade was down, a gunshot in his chest. He was gone.
Tom screamed into the air, and then the 4 of them drove off.

Okay. In general, not bad, I've read a hell of a lot worse than this. You seem to have a clear idea of what you want to happen, you just need to go about writing it differently. The first thing I would seriously reccomend you do is to make sure you don't use number sin palce of words. It may be tempting to tak the short cut, but believe me, it really does make alot of differenc eif you want your work to be taken seriously.

Second thing is the Show VS Tell I mentioned. You need to describe things in more detail. I had the same problem as you at one point, I explained what was happening, but I didn't describe it.

Best way to master the art of Show Vs Tell is to just write bucket loads of stuff and describe every little thing you can think of down to smallest detail. Once you can do that easily, you'll be able to know which are the important bits and which ones you can ignore in the future.

Hope that helps you :-)

At 8/29/06 06:38 AM, Tri-Nitro-Toluene wrote: Hope that helps you :-)

Wow, it did! I'm working on a novel, and it currently has about 20-something poages, and I'm on the first page of the second chapter... it's written way better than that. :)

At 8/29/06 08:19 AM, -Frenzy- wrote: Wow, it did! I'm working on a novel, and it currently has about 20-something poages, and I'm on the first page of the second chapter... it's written way better than that. :)

Feel free to post an extract from your novel if you want and I'll have alook at it for you.

At 8/29/06 08:28 AM, Tri-Nitro-Toluene wrote: to post an extract from your novel if you want and I'll have alook at it for you.

I will in a bit, while I fix it up a little bit... :)

At 8/29/06 08:35 AM, -Frenzy- wrote: I will in a bit, while I fix it up a little bit... :)

Excellent.

My shift was pure hell. It took me two days to get rid of the smell from my clothes. By the time I’d finished I felt as though the Corinnian plague had got me. What? Trust me kid, you don’t want to know what the Cor Plague is. Nasty piece of work that one is. But anyway, I was walking back from my shift, feeling completely shit, when I passed the entrance to Sector 5. I almost ignored it completely and carried on walking. I almost didn’t screw everything up…What? Oh, sorry. Lost in thought kid, don’t worry, I’m fine. Yeah, the letter had been on my mind throughout my shift and I had decided that I was going to ignore it completely. Whoever this Elijah guy was, whatever he was planning, he would have to do it without me. That was the plan at any rate, but walking past the Sector 5 entrance just made me think on it again. I stopped walking and just stood in front of the sign. The E was flickering on and off. I pitied the poor bastard that was going to have to fix it. Climbing up on the signs was dangerous work. If you didn’t lose our footing and fall, then the Worm-rats got you. Yes Worm-rats. They’re a species of rodent that live underground. If they bite you, you know about it, normally because your ankle swells up to the size of a football just before it drops off. No I’m not joking kid. That is what really happens. You surface dwellers really don’t know anything about us slummers do you? Mind you, I don’t know anything about you lot either. I thought I did but turns out I was wrong…but I’ll get to that later.

As I stood watching the letter E flickering, my mind started to drift. What did I have to lose by just going to see this Elijah guy and his friends? If I didn’t like what I heard I could always back out couldn’t I? That’s what I was thinking as I walked into Sector 5 and headed towards the maintenance shaft by the market. It was easy enough to find, I didn’t know my way around Sector 5 that well, but the huge neon sign of radiation symbol told me that the maintenance shaft was ahead. Why a radiation symbol? ‘Cause we use Nuclear power to generate the electricity for the lighting down in the slums and for you surface dwellers. Some of the maintenance shafts are effectively nuclear reactors. Never been an explosion or a melt down though, thank God for that, but I’d still feel happier if they weren’t down there you know?

As I got closer to the shaft I saw a guy leaning against the wall. He was wearing this suit, which kind of caught me by surprise. It isn’t often you see anyone in the slums wearing clothes as fancy as that. It was creased and a bit scuffed in places, but compared to what I was wearing; he was the height of fashion.

As I got closer he looked up. The dull glow from the maintenance sign gave off enough light for m to be able to make out his features, though not clearly. I didn’t have that much time to get a good look at him though. As soon as he laid eyes on me he started speaking.

“You sir, must be Tobias.” His voice was accented, sounded like he came from the Americana Plate. Quite a way off from the Europa quarter if you think about it. You don’t normally get very many people from the other plates. Oh wait, you don’t know about the plates do you? The Slums are divided into plates and levels. The higher the level you’re on, the closer to the surface you get. Normally, the richer people get to live on the higher levels and the poor bastards like me live in the lower ones. Now the plates are slightly different. There are four plates in total apparently they correspond to the four main areas of the resource war. There’s the Americana plate, which is located on the far side of the planet from here, it was the Americana’s that started of the resource war. There’s also the Europa quarter which is where I’m from. Europa used to be a group of sectors that practically hated each other but some guy named Hemlock managed to get them to work together and they formed into Europa to take on Americana when they were invaded.

Next you’ve got Arabia. These guys were a part of what was once called the middle east, but when Americana moved in they started working together to protect what little they had. Managed to give a good thrashing to the Americana’s whilst they were at it as well. And finally you’ve got the Ruskies. These guys come from the Soviet Sector. Just before the resource war kicked off the Ruskies reformed something from there past called the Soviet Union. Started taking over bits and pieces of what would be Europa, and Arabia. Their lands stretched from the edge of Europa all the way to the orient. Nothing could stop them. They were the ‘winners’ of the resource war, didn’t do them that much good though, they still got there asses handed to them on a plate when the Athorians turned up. But I digress…

After getting over the shock of hearing the voice of an Americana I managed to stutter out a reply.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m Tobias.”

“Pleased to meet you” he smiled, offering his hand, “Name’s Jacob. Jacob Peterson.”

I cautiously took his hand and shook it. He was wearing what felt like leather gloves. Seriously fancy when you consider the fact that cows had been extinct for about a century. The Athorians didn’t provide us with enough resources to keep them alive.

“I was expecting someone called Elijah” I said as I let go of his hand.

“Of course you were. Everybody expects Elijah when they first turn up” replied Jacob, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

“You mean he isn’t here?” I was getting slightly confused. The letter had said that he’d meet me here and he hadn’t turned up.

“Nope,” replied Jacob, taking a puff of his cigarette. “Elijah doesn’t turn up for just anybody Toby. You don’t mind if I call you Toby do you?”

“Err…no I suppose not. So…where is Elijah then?”

He smiled. It was almost a grin really.

“Elijah is where Elijah is. You don’t need to worry about him. Right now you just need to come with me and listen to what I’ve got to tell you.”

He put his arm around my shoulder and started to lead me off towards the entrance of sector 6. He went on about things that made sense, told me about who he was, what he did, why he had been sent to meet me, but the one thing I wanted to know, was the one thing he never mentioned. Just who the hell was Elijah?

At 8/29/06 09:51 AM, Tri-Nitro-Toluene wrote: My shift was pure hell...

That's part two of the Elijah Project incase anyone is wondering :-\

I have a couple of Hilarious songs i would like made into a flash cartoon/ flash video.

http://www.soundclic..ic.cfm?bandID=413532

there are 4 songs on there i could see being made,
Swipin Clues- This is the one i want done the most and would be extremely grateful if anyone was willing to do so.

The 2nd most important one is
All Evil- This song just has flash written all over it, ok not litterally but if you listen to it you'll understand

3rd is
Compurap-listen and you'll see the greatness of this song

and the 4th and least important is
I got a Knife. It's a funny song but not one of my bests.

i thank you in advance for taking the time to read this and i thank you even more for considering the task!

Hi, I know you guys don't really review but I like reading so much I thought I would write a book. The book is being done by me and some other people at the ninja guild. It wasn't originally going to be a book, just writing for fun but that's what it's become. Anyway it's on it's 110th page. Could you read this one chapter of it and say if you think it's good and what needs improving. It's written in script style so it's different to most other books. Also I know it won't make sense to you as it's the 28th chapter but can you please try.

Part 8, Chapter 28
We live to die

Q awoke as soon as the baby started crying. He didn't know where the noise was coming from or even why there was a baby in the castle but he knew he had to help it. He walked down the stone staircase almost forgetting the events that had accured merely two hours and opened the door to the kitchen. Lying on the table was a tiny new born child wearing nothing but a blanket. He went to pick it up but a lady stepped out of the shadows and blocked his way.
Woman: Do not touch your son, Quentin.

Q wasn't the only one to have heard the noise. Yomikusi was nearly at the kitchen when the crying stopped and he could hear voices.
Q: Is it really you?
Woman: Yes, i've returned from the dead.
Q: No, it can't be. You're one of the spirits that we saw earlier trying to attack us.
Woman: But does it really matter? You can have your old life back with your wife and son.
Q: Leave me be. The real Katrina is buried in the woods, you're just an imposter!
But deep down he wan't to believe she was real. Katrina approached him untill they were nearly touching. Yomikusi opened the door a fraction and peaked in.
Katrina: Give in Q.
Suddenly she kissed him straight on the lips and he didn't try to stop her. But then his eyes widened and he fell to the floor. His clothes caught fire and then his skin untill there was nothing left of their leader. Katrina grinned.
Katrina: Kill the one outside of the door.
She and the baby vanished and a spirit in the form of his deseased uncle appeared next to Yomikusi. Yomikusi drew his sword but the spirit waved his hand and Yomikusi was sent spinnig backwards through the air. Quick as a flash he was back on his feet but the spirit was ready and sent an invisible punch into his nose. Yomisuki was't even on his feet when the spirit knocked a chair over his head. He tried to fight back but his sword was knocked out of his hand.
Uncle: Prepare to die Yomisuki.
But he wasn't going down that easily. Pretending to be uncouncious, Yomisuki leapt up and grabbed his uncles neck. The spirit screamed, awaking the others who rushed down stairs.
Yomisuki: Help me hold him down.
The others put their hands on the spirit causing it intense pain and making him turn back to his normal state.
Spirit: Don't kill me, i'll do anything you say!
Yomisuki ignored him and told the others what had happened to Q then asked who Katrina was.
Indigo: It must be his wife. He told me that he was married once but his wife died during child birth.
There was a stunned silence.
Meng: They killed him...
The spirit began to scream with pain.
Spirit: He's not dead, he's in another dimension. I will send you there if you free me.
He continued to scream and a few ninjas took their hands of of him to make him quiet down.
Fullmetal: Take us there now.
The spirit smiled and then a blue mist came out of his mouth engulfing them. When it cleared they were in labirinth.
Natsume: Now what?

Q knew as soon as he opened his opened his eyes that he was going to die. He looked around and realised he was tied to an operating table in a dark, cold room. Tepai was standing next to him.
Q: What do you want with me, you filthy bastard?
Tepai ignored the question.
Tepai: Try not to flinch, it will make it hurt more.
He took out a knife and a bowl, then signalled to three spirits in the form of Casshern, Stephen and Wickedform. They huddled around to talk about the best way of removing Q's blood. Q took this to his advantage and tried to slip his hand through the ropes. Just as he did, the spirits turned around. Q leapt onto the table and slit Cassherns throat but Stephen waved his hand and sent Q flying. Q landed on his feet and threw a dagger which planted its self in Wickedforms forehead. Tepai levitated the table above Q to crush him but he rolled out of the way and decapitated Stephen before stabbing Tepai through the chest. He turned and ran down the corridor.

The ninjas had been walking for half an hour and hadn't encountered any spirits so they were becoming more relaxed. Suddenly, Q ran out in front of them. Hellbound ran towards him.
Hellbound: Are you okay? We've come to save you.
Q drew his dagger.
Hellbound: What are you doing?
Q: Killing you.
He stuck the dagger deep into Hellbounds chest. Shadowist ran towards them but there was an invisible force field. Q began to change into a spirit, but not an ordinary blue one, the golden leader.
Leader: Bet you didn't know the leader could transform into the living and the dead.
Hellbounds blood was sucked out of his body by an invisible force and formed a liquid ball in the air.
Shadowist put his head in his hands as his friends body was dried out.
Leader: Surely you can't be that upset dear Shadowist? You humans live to die. You are dying from the moment you are born. It's not as if Hellbound here was going to live forever. I guess he's finally going to hell just like his name suggests.
Shaowist: SHUT UP YOU MONSTER!
The leader merely laughed.
Indigo: Why must you do this?
Leader: Your blood-once devoured by us-holds the key to ruling over the monsters. Every time you've fought a monster a bit of it's soul has become part of you. If every one of my servants has one drop of Hellbounds blood then we can harness control over the land. There's nothing you can do to stop me.
And he vanished before their eyes. Shadowist ran forward and grabbed Hellbounds body. Everybody just stood still and waited. They hoped Q was doing better than them.

At 8/29/06 01:58 PM, Wombat333 wrote: Q awoke as soon as the baby started crying. He didn't know where the noise was coming from or even why there was a baby in the castle but he knew he had to help it. He walked down the stone staircase almost forgetting the events that had accured merely two hours and opened the door to the kitchen. Lying on the table was a tiny new born child wearing nothing but a blanket. He went to pick it up but a lady stepped out of the shadows and blocked his way.

Show VS Tell. You are explaining what is happening but you aren't describing it. Was the babies cry a sob, or was it a screech? Did Q walk cautiously down the stairs, or did he stroll down them.

Also, describe the setting more. Don't just clal it a stone staircase, tell the readers what's on the walls, are there cobwebs around?

Woman: Do not touch your son, Quentin.

Q wasn't the only one to have heard the noise. Yomikusi was nearly at the kitchen when the crying stopped and he could hear voices.
Q: Is it really you?
Woman: Yes, i've returned from the dead.
Q: No, it can't be. You're one of the spirits that we saw earlier trying to attack us.
Woman: But does it really matter? You can have your old life back with your wife and son.
Q: Leave me be. The real Katrina is buried in the woods, you're just an imposter!

Apart from me not liking the style of mixing script with novel description, the dialogue isn't fluid. There isn't any variation in the tone which makes it somewhat dull in my opinion. The problem with writing the dialogue like a script is that you lose the descriptives that show how the characters are speaking. If you are going to conitnue like this then what you need to do is to use more emotive language.

If Q has jsut seen someone he knows return from the dead, then his response if more likely to be along the lines of " OMG! WTF?", instead of "How is this possible?" which is a very objective way of saying the same thing, but because it's objective it makes it dull. Never be objective in a story if you can help it.

I could go over eveyr point in this, but I'd jsut be reapeating myself over and over.

The three main points you need to focus on are:

1) Make the dialogue more fluid and interesting. Use more emotive language to actually show the characters feelings.

2) Describe thigns more. It gives the reader a better image of what is happening and makes it more interesting to read.

3) DO NOT BE OBJECTIVE. Seriously, that is the main problem with this piece as I see it. If you can make the piece more personal it'll make it better.

Show VS Tell. You are explaining what is happening but you aren't describing it. Was the babies cry a sob, or was it a screech? Did Q walk cautiously down the stairs, or did he stroll down them.

That's a valid point, i'll try and remember.

Also, describe the setting more. Don't just clal it a stone staircase, tell the readers what's on the walls, are there cobwebs around?

You weren't expected to know, but the castle was descibed in chapter 3.

Apart from me not liking the style of mixing script with novel description, the dialogue isn't fluid. There isn't any variation in the tone which makes it somewhat dull in my opinion. The problem with writing the dialogue like a script is that you lose the descriptives that show how the characters are speaking. If you are going to conitnue like this then what you need to do is to use more emotive language.

I realised this but I don't want to change it after 120 pages. After all, it's just for fun.

If Q has jsut seen someone he knows return from the dead, then his response if more likely to be along the lines of " OMG! WTF?", instead of "How is this possible?" which is a very objective way of saying the same thing, but because it's objective it makes it dull. Never be objective in a story if you can help it.

The people have been coming back for some time now so he's not that suprised. Once again, you couldn't have known that so it's okay.

The three main points you need to focus on are:

1) Make the dialogue more fluid and interesting. Use more emotive language to actually show the characters feelings.

Thank you, i'll try. I'll tell the other writers that too.

2) Describe thigns more. It gives the reader a better image of what is happening and makes it more interesting to read.

I'll try that too.

3) DO NOT BE OBJECTIVE. Seriously, that is the main problem with this piece as I see it. If you can make the piece more personal it'll make it better.

Right, i'll try that too. The idea for part 8 was actully to be more personal because it involved loved ones seeming like they were coming back but I guess it kind of failed...

Here's a little something I've been working on (its not my novel, a short stroy, you know?) :)

Lucy

Lucy stared at the chalkboard, listening to her teacher drone about something. Probably something to do with math. The bache walls of the room were stained with various things. Lunches, permanent markers, etc. Lucy could feel herself getting drowsy. She would just out her head down on the table for a moment...

"Miss Cille? Miss Cille? Miss Cille?!"

"Huh... what..." Lucy brought her head off of the table, looking from side to side. A small line of saliva was slowly sliding down the side of her chin. "...what..."

"Do you know the answer?" asked her teacher vigorously.

"Umm..." Lucy had to answer, she couldn't admit to the her teacher, let alone the whole calss, that she had fallen asleep. "Err... 27?"

It started as a small giggle, which eventually erupted in a loud peal of laughter. The whole class was laughing their heads off.

"Miss Cille, are you aware that you just answered my question, how many feet do panndas have, with 47?" asked her teacher.

Lucy looked at her teacher. Tears were starting to drip out of her eyes. She tried to look away, but she just couldn't. The blue dress that was covered in roses (drawn, mind you) that her teacher was wearing turned into a messy blur. She eventually gave up terying to fight the tears and put her head in her hands, sobbing. Her teacher walked up to her.

"Lucy," she said softly.

Lucy sniffed. "Y...yes, Miss Pendine."

Miss Pendine stared at Lucy with soft eyes. "I'll see you after class."

***

"Now, Lucy," said Miss Pendine. "Are you sure you're getting enough sleep?"

"Yes, Miss Pendine," assured Lucy.

"Absolutely sure?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely absilutely sure?"

"Yes."

"Abolutely absolutely positively sure?"

"YES!"

"Good." Her teacher stood up. "You may leave now, Lucy."

Lucy got out of the brown, wodden chair and opened the squeaky door. She walked out of the room, only to be greeted by a few girls.

"You were pretty dumb in there," said one of them. "Do you need... uhh... psychiatry?"

The three of them laughed.

"No." replied Lucy firmly.

"Okay, enough talk," said one fo the girls. "Get her!"

The three of them rushed at Lucy. Lucy stuck out her foot, which was covered in stockings, and hgih-heeled shoes. One of the three girls ran right into the heel of the shoe. It collided with her stomach. She stumbled backwards, blood spurting from her mouth. She fell backwards, head colliding with a locker handle. Another of the three (now two) girls ran at Lucy, with her hadns outstretched. Lucy grabbed a pencil from ehr pcoket and jammed it into the girls right eye. The girl was in shock for a moment, and then stumbled backwards. She then screamed, and tripped on the corpse of the other girl. Her chin slammed on a drinking fountain breaking it. The last girl ran at Lucy, and Lucy stuck out her hand. A sharp diamond ring was worn on her ring finger. This ring hit the girl between the nose and mouth. The girl clutched the wounded area. Lucy grabbed her other arm that wasn't clutching the wounded area, and twisted behind the girl's back. She then jolted it upwards, breaking the bone. The girl screamed. Lucy then grabbed her neck and twisted it, killing her.

Then Lucy grabbed her backpack and walked homer, whistling all the way.

***

Miss Pendine walked out of her classroom, at about 9:00 o'clock. She opened the door. She dropped her books, and screamed.

This was partially inspired by Johnny Rocketfingers 2 (you know, the first fight scene), and pretty much the whole game was kuind of inspiring for this short story.

Do you like it? :)

At 8/29/06 04:29 PM, -Frenzy- wrote: Do you like it? :)

I have to say, I do quite like it. It's fairly simple but quite entrataining. kudos.

At 8/29/06 04:34 PM, Tri-Nitro-Toluene wrote:

At 8/29/06 04:29 PM, -Frenzy- wrote: Do you like it? :)

I have to say, I do quite like it. It's fairly simple but quite entrataining. kudos.

Thanks. :)

Hi, I was just wondering what exactly it takes to join this club. I like to do a bit of writing now and then, so naturally I was interested. I've written a story thread on Newgrounds before. There's a link to it in my sig.