At 1/15/08 07:20 PM, LazyPint wrote: As above. I'll leave a comment at some point.

Thanks. Appreciate the comment dude. I replied if your interested.

At 1/11/08 06:07 PM, gibleto wrote: Here's another.

I never got around to looking at this, but now that I have, I like it a lot. Very nice work, that. Just up my alley.

Guess whos back for the weekend ^_^

At 1/18/08 02:28 PM, gunground wrote: Guess whos back for the weekend ^_^

It's about Goddamn time. We were on the verge of anarchy!

someone coughs

See?

At 1/18/08 02:28 PM, gunground wrote: Guess whos back for the weekend ^_^

kickass.

wait...weekend? where have you have been?

At 1/18/08 02:28 PM, gunground wrote: Guess whos back for the weekend ^_^

Thank God. *quickly hides pitchfork and torch* I was worried you'd never come back. Then we'd never be able to control this avalanche of new members! (I would had slain them all by tomorrow)

Here we go, part one of a new story.

Tis called...

Just a Day

I rise up from the mud pits, as I do every morning. The blackened filth drips from my form, steaming and foaming. As it does every morning. I sigh and blink the grime from my eyes as I faintly hope for something, something new and engaging, to come and kill the drudgery of my life. Still stuck as a pre-demon, though, so there isn't a damn thing I can do until I come "Of Age", as they say.

I yawn, blink sleepily, then yawn again. I lean over and shake myself wildly, and the warm mixture coating my body flies in rogue droplets, flicking about in all directions. I give my self a faint look over, assuring myself that I'm relatively mud-free-feet, check. Tail, check. Horns, check. Wings...I sigh again. I don't even have the stupid things yet, because, once more, I'm just a pre-demon.

Looking around me, I can see others rising as I did, many simply shaking themselves and flying off, up out of the pit, with the wings that I don't have yet. I curse them, half-heartedly and under my breath. Then I turn to the pit walls, towering above me. I don't have the advantage of wings just yet, so I get to climb. Woop-de-frickin'-do.

About 7 minutes later, I claw the dirt just at the cliff of the chasm, pulling myself over the top. It's quite a climb, but the years have been kind to me and I mastered the trade rather fast. I dust myself off, whipping my tail about as the hormones course through my veins. That was a little hasty, even for me. I turn my head and gaze down. It's a helluva drop. I had fallen much of it in my experience. I have only the stars to thank for making it a mud pit, else wise the impact would hurt like a bitch. I chuckle. There likely wouldn't be so many demons running about if it were like that. I turn my head back front and gasp, step back and very nearly fall in.

A mortal, naked. Charred. Burns and slash wounds run across his chubby frame. He's just standing there, staring at me, a look of the purest insanity glittering in his eyes. He looks like he's expecting something. Then I realize something else; he's actually staring at my chest. I grunt and rear back my arm to take his head off-it would be so easy-but I restrain myself, recalling that it won't be my job for another few weeks, at best, not until graduation. Still, I reason, he is in hell for a reason...

I stand up to my full height and turn on Ms. Sexy. Elbows in, chest out, the works. I walk by him and as he turns his face to follow me, I lick my lips at him, batting my lashes. He fails to notice my tail around his ankles, and as I turn my head forward, I pull his feet from under him, and as he falls into the pit, hundreds of yards below, I enjoy his scream of surprise and terror, giggling like a child. Just a little fun, won't hurt nothing.

Then I start the long walk to school. All around me, older demons fly by, some down the same path as I, and others off towards their various jobs. Both groups seem to be enjoying their new wings, flaunting them like schoolgirls.

Off in the distance, the school looks like some sort of tumor, just sticking out of the otherwise- blank and unshaped plains; a mass of spikes and ridges and caves, it's the only discernible landmark for miles. Well, at least the only discernible landmark for demons. The mortals only see whatever they need to see to feel like they're in hell-fire, the mud pits, little piggy things with pitchforks, the list goes on. Of course, I'd imagine a school that educates young demons to torture mortals in the most excruciating ways possible would be rather terrifying to the common man...

I smile at the thought and trudge on, ignoring the screeching cries of mortals all around me and the demonic cries of glee that inevitably follow. I can't wait until I get to do that, I think to myself. All day, just making someone else's life miserable...and as a job, too. I begin to fantasize about my future, as I often do, wondering about possible victims, about finally getting me some wings, about not having to sleep in a damned mud pit...

...and before I knew what was happening, I found myself in a crowd at the school, conversation buzzing around my ears as imps flew over our heads, screaming at us to get to stupid classes, for pete's sake. I frown. How peculiar. I don't recall getting that caught up in the dream.

I shrug it off with a sigh and walk tentatively to Rope and Strap Torture, weaving through the crowds. I plunk down into one of the many look-alike stone chairs, all spawned fresh from the ground every morning. The imps keep screaming until everyone has shuffled into their respective classes, and mine soon fills. The teacher walks in and I let out another sigh, forlorn this time. Everything is the same, everything is boring, and nothing at all has changed down here...

My name is Elise, I'm a pre-demon, and I'm bored as fuck with my life here in hell.

i did a choose your own adventure game for some friends, thats about it, do i class as a writer?

Just fill out the form and well find out.

At 1/22/08 05:14 PM, GOTHCLAWZ wrote: I wish I could write long paragraphs.

GTFO, my good sir.

WTF? What the hell does GTFO mean? Just curious. I'm not up to date with internet slang.

-_-

GTFO=get the fuck out.

Would it be alright if I joined this fine club? I usually write some forms of poetry but I have been longing to write a good story sometime soon. :D

At 1/23/08 12:08 PM, GOTHCLAWZ wrote:

I'm a member, actualy.

In that case, start contributing and stop spamming.

At 1/22/08 08:51 PM, Sistine1408 wrote: -_-

GTFO=get the fuck out.

"Guess what new word I learned today, Mommy!" Thank you, sistine. Always the one explaining when people don't know stuff. You get a cookie. BTW, where is that big book of slang you seem to have in your possesion? HMMMMMMMMMMMMM?

The fourth perspective is kinda waining these days. Their weekly winner didn't have any votes(when I saw it) and they have been discussing in their forums how the site was not doing spectacular. But I might be wrong. I might post my short( very short) story Just a Puddle, if I can get a gurantee that my work will not be stolen and published under someone else's name.

wait...is that a sarcasm cookie?

I joined Fourth Perspective but I couldn't figure out how to make the PNF thing work, so I couldn't upload anything.

Here, Ill say what I did. Maybe you'll see where I went wrong.

1. Installed the PDF thang
2. Went to word
3. Hit print and selected the Primopdf printer

then it pulled up the story, but in what I assumed to be the PDF format. However, when I tried to save the story from the PDF form, and then re-opened the file to check if it was working, it simply came up in Word, all jumbled up.

So, I guess the problem is that I don't know how I upload the file from my computer once it's been formatted to PDF, or something.

so, screen, then OK, and if I upload the file it gives me with the microsoft word heading, it'll work?

awright then, Ill give it a go.

Yeah, I know what you're saying, man...

BBS's system isn't half-bad, though.

At 1/23/08 12:08 PM, GOTHCLAWZ wrote:

At 1/22/08 05:42 PM, Centurion-Ryan wrote:

At 1/22/08 05:14 PM, GOTHCLAWZ wrote: I wish I could write long paragraphs.

GTFO, my good sir.

I'm a member, actualy.

A then let me back up what my other people have said, leave now before you make a fool of your self more then you already have.

Hey can I join? I've only written one short story (utter crap) but I'm currently developing a story

How many years have you been writing: About 10
How many flash story's you have written: None
How many real life story's you have written: Maybe 1

Flash writings sound interesting, might make some soon.

Oh I guess I did this wrong
How many years have you been writing: 7 or 8
How many flash stories: none, but the story I am developing is intended to be a flash
Have you written real life stories: nope

Awright, good to see new members. Either of you have any work you could post a link to?

Yaay Newbies. It's surprising how mant older members have disapeared, or do not post often. Centurion-Ryan probably is the oldest member who posts semi-frequently. Gunground posts what, like, once, twice a month?

At 1/25/08 06:39 PM, Zodir wrote: Yaay Newbies. It's surprising how mant older members have disapeared, or do not post often. Centurion-Ryan probably is the oldest member who posts semi-frequently. Gunground posts what, like, once, twice a month?

Yeah, if we're lucky. lulz.

So
Years Writing 6 yrs for school (high/college)
Flash- 3 of mine, kinda short, but the storyboard/script were ok and rushed.
real life- a fanfic or 2, one i've been procrastinating on bc of school.
so is that acceptable? I would like to give writing for someone's animation a try.

Im sure it's acceptable, Pinoy. Care to post some of your work so we can get a taste for your style?

At 1/25/08 03:04 PM, Sistine1408 wrote: Awright, good to see new members. Either of you have any work you could post a link to?

Unfortunatly no. However I do have the prolouge to the story I'm working on. This is meant to be a flash so a lot of the begining is visual.

Oh, my beautiful city... what has become of you?
For ten years we, your soldiers, protected your borders from the evil, and tyranny of the outside world, so that you would remain a beacon of hope, and liberty to all those who suffered injustice, and oppression. Long had we wished to look upon your majesty, for in our long absence, our memories of you grew dim. But we remained strong knowing that when we returned, we would be welcomed home like long, lost sons. And our victories would be celebrated with music, bread and wine. However, on our return, we saw that the evil and tyranny we fought so long to keep away... had already come to roost.
Oh my once great city... what has become of you?

Critique away!