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Writers Club

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Response to Writers Club 2009-12-14 21:23:31


oh, whoops. Forgot to fill in the template. lol..
How many years have you been writing: about 2
How many flash story's you have written: so far none, but I'm open for jobs!!
How many real life story's you have written: Like books? None. Stories? like, 7...
And your name (optional): Gordon

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-14 21:26:18



Now remember,To join the Writers club simply post
How many years have you been writing:
How many flash story's you have written:
How many real life story's you have written:
And your name (optional):

Happy writing!

First Question's Answer: I want to start because I am always just making good REVIEWS and I want to make a story do 2 ears since I started making reviews if it sounts but if not, I am starting.

Second Qusetion's Answer:

None, I want to start.

Third Question's Answer: I made 2 in school if that counts.

Fourth Question's Answer: My Username says it all, Josh

I would really appreciate it if you would let me in even though I am a beginner.


Need a Review? Go to Review Request Club

Also please look at my art!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-14 21:33:58


At 12/14/09 09:14 PM, Oobeedoopskadoobie wrote:

Dude! You gotta write more of those stories! They are entertaining and it actually creeped me out and I think you should keep this up! Did that storie creep out your teacher!? I will be pretty angry if not because that was pretty good!


Need a Review? Go to Review Request Club

Also please look at my art!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-14 21:36:42


At 12/14/09 09:33 PM, Joshsouza wrote:
At 12/14/09 09:14 PM, Oobeedoopskadoobie wrote:
Dude! You gotta write more of those stories! They are entertaining and it actually creeped me out and I think you should keep this up! Did that storie creep out your teacher!? I will be pretty angry if not because that was pretty good!

Thanks Josh! Yeah, she's an avid Facebook user herself, so it really works on her. The funniest thing was the silence that embraced the classroom after I finished reading it. I think that is even better than applause because then I know that they are all sufficiently creeped out. But I still got an A on it, though...

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-15 07:03:00


How many years have you been writing: about 7-8 years of writing literature and 2 years of writing music
How many flash story's you have written: none :(
How many real life story's you have written: 4 with one of them published at the Penn State Behrend school magazine by the RTS (round table society)
And your name (optional): lets stick with 'dopedgod'

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-16 02:44:04


I joined this club a long time ago, but was never really active. I am very much a different person, and by extension a different writer than I was back then so I'll re-up:

How many years have you been writing: All my life I suppose. If you mean writing seriously, then I probably haven't started yet.
How many flash story's you have written: A bunch, only about 10 ever saw the light of day, and only 4 or 5 were ever completed in any real capacity.
How many real life story's you have written: No story's, only stories.

I plan to update my user-page with some of what I write, so a sample of my work can be found here if anyone is interested. Of course I appreciate feedback, because I am generally a neurotic guy.

Here is a poem that I whipped together recently, the alternate title I had for it was 'Fear And Loathing In An Undergraduate Classroom':

Generation Apathy

I'm getting sick of society,
Dictating to me
Who I am supposed to be.
If we follow a blueprint
How can we ever be free?
Like going to school,
Majoring in English,
It's becoming hard to distinguish
Between truth and lies;
Reality from the fiction.
'Professor, excuse my choice of diction
But you can suck a-motherfucking-dick'
How is that for syntax?
I'm wishing that I slipped through the cracks
And never made it this far.
Now I'm overeducated and emasculated,
I never anticipated
Life turning out like this
Sharing my first kiss,
Her smile all that mattered in the world.
For that moment, she was my girl.
Now I long for that feeling,
The kind of girl who can leave my heart reeling.
But I never found it in any long duration;
Now I'm a member of the Apathetic Generation.


A friend in need is a friend indeed, but a friend with weed is better.

BBS Signature

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-16 18:35:35


Woa, very nice poem, man. It really shows the mixed despair/loathing and angst of an overstressed student. Very nicely done, sir.

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-17 23:16:31


Here is one, my first so don't be mean.

Me and my friend were in the car that one Tuesday night. They were drinking while driving and I wouldn't tell because thy would probably kill me so I will just leave it to the cops to figure out then suddenly, Bob stopped turning the wheel. "Bob! Get the wheel!" I cried out but it was too late, he was fainted but we were heading right for a train and I didn't have enough time to take charge then we hit the train! One of the seat be;ts sliced Elizabeth's head off and the explosion killed me!

I must have dozed off I thought but Bob was still drinking and driving then I thought, holy crap! i gotta get out! "Hey Bob, drop me off here" I said and Bob said "Sure." He dropped me off in the entrance to a forest and I saw them drove away and the train was coming by! But Bob stopped so the train could go by. Ahh Shit! I thought knowing that I would have to walk home and just when i was about to leave, a bear struck me and killed me!

The End.....

I hoped you liked it!


Need a Review? Go to Review Request Club

Also please look at my art!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-19 00:16:32


Good for a first start. The sentences in the first paragraph are a bit long, and could use some variety (and punctuation). The ending was sudden, and could be better, in my opinion. But it's still very good for your first work. Last year, I was a judge for my school's writing contest, and there are people that do MUCH worse than you... But good job, I hope to hear more in the future!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-19 00:48:29


How many years have you been writing: 1 and a half?
How many flash story's you have written: 0
How many real life story's you have written: None have been published, but one full novel.
And your name (optional): Makoa
Favorite Author: R.A. Salvatore. Why? Because the Legend of Drizzt kicks ass.

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-19 01:26:19


At 12/19/09 12:16 AM, Oobeedoopskadoobie wrote: Good for a first start. The sentences in the first paragraph are a bit long, and could use some variety (and punctuation). The ending was sudden, and could be better, in my opinion. But it's still very good for your first work. Last year, I was a judge for my school's writing contest, and there are people that do MUCH worse than you... But good job, I hope to hear more in the future!

Thanks dude! Yeah, I only made this one short because i school we just made short story but that one isn't it! I am just too lazy to type it.


Need a Review? Go to Review Request Club

Also please look at my art!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-19 13:40:20


Well, I got some time to kill right now, so I'll post an excerpt from my book. It's called Lineage of the Half-Blood, and it's about this bandit guy named Sin. It's not the beginning, because the beginnings kinda slow, but here you go:

His life was on the line at this point. He had no escape from the city guards, for one was posted nearly every twenty feet from his current location in an alley. But Sin was not afraid. He lived for adventure. He thrived on surviving challenges. His blood pumped, his heart beat faster and faster. This was the life the bandit always wanted.
With silence matched only by an empty night, Sin scaled the side of the weapons shop to his left. Grabbing the edge of the roof, he peeked over, and, seeing no guards within sight, he completed the climb with a simple pull.
Sin quickly moved into a crawl, and maneuvered over to the front of the shop, peeking over the rims, and noting but a single guard on the streets, wearing nothing but leather armor and wielding a cutlass. Easy kill, he thought.
With a leap, Sin landed just behind the guard, and in the same fluid motion, brought his trusted dagger from a small scabbard on his thigh, and placed it on the guard's neck, drawing a line of blood.
"You'll not make a sound if you wish to live," he threatened wickedly.
The guard, his hand having been within inches of his cutlass hilt, relaxed his hand.
"Are you Sin?" the guard asked.
Sin chuckled. "That's me, and what I am."
The guard swallowed, then grimaced when the knife dug a bit deeper into his throat.
"No sudden movements."
"What do you want?"
"Information."
The guard was momentarily confused, then regained some composure, regardless of his predicament.
"Such as?" he asked.
Sin never relaxed the dagger. "Where is Ambassador Kruchiev?"
The guard was confused once again. "Why do you need to know? You are a heathen and-" But before the guard could finish, Sin's dagger was gone, as was his presence.
Must have scared him off, thought the guard, once again calming himself. He moved his hand to his hilt, and took a step forward.
Only to hit a trip wire, releasing a crossbow's bolt.

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-19 23:10:28


Thanks dude! Yeah, I only made this one short because i school we just made short story but that one isn't it! I am just too lazy to type it.

Well, if you do feel the urge to type it, I'd love to read it!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-19 23:13:12


At 12/19/09 01:40 PM, Zuproc wrote: Well, I got some time to kill right now, so I'll post an excerpt from my book. It's called Lineage of the Half-Blood, and it's about this bandit guy named Sin. It's not the beginning, because the beginnings kinda slow, but here you go:

Woa man, that's awesome!! I'd love to read the entire book, just from that excerpt, it sounds like a good, exciting story. Very professional. Please PM me if you're generous enough to let me read it, it sounds amazing!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-21 18:42:37


How many years have you been writing: like... three months?
How many flash story's you have written: that have been made into flash animated stories? none.
How many real life story's you have written: does uploaded to a site count? 1 (in-progress)
And your name (optional): Brandon
Favorite Author: the one who did the zombie survival guide.

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-21 19:41:14


At 12/21/09 06:42 PM, fryman94 wrote: How many years have you been writing: like... three months?
How many flash story's you have written: that have been made into flash animated stories? none.
How many real life story's you have written: does uploaded to a site count? 1 (in-progress)
And your name (optional): Brandon
Favorite Author: the one who did the zombie survival guide.

I believe you're talking about Max Brooks

How many years have you been writing: years... maybe 6, 7?
How many flash story's you have written: that have been made into flash animated stories? 3, but none of them good. I had about 4,5,or 6 others for various collab projects (meaning I was writing, the other animating) but I dropped them because I felt they weren't particularly good stories to tell, or just not good enough. One rough draft was 40+ pages and I scrapped it... tough to do, but "write only what deserves to be read."
How many real life story's you have written: A few, maybe 8
And your name (optional): Matthew
Favorite Author: Victor Huge (Les Miserables is quite good), Alexander Dumas, Plato, Chaucer, Douglas Adams, Max Brooks, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-21 23:03:04


At 12/19/09 11:10 PM, Oobeedoopskadoobie wrote:
Thanks dude! Yeah, I only made this one short because i school we just made short story but that one isn't it! I am just too lazy to type it.
Well, if you do feel the urge to type it, I'd love to read it!\

Ahh I can't because it sucked even though it was the best in the class. I rushed it in the short deadline and it came out bad.


Need a Review? Go to Review Request Club

Also please look at my art!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-22 00:28:22


Am I in the club or what? Anything I gotta do? Hurry cuz this topics dying.

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-22 13:47:37


At 12/22/09 12:28 AM, Zuproc wrote: Am I in the club or what? Anything I gotta do? Hurry cuz this topics dying.

Just start posting if you did what he asked in the first post, No one really tells you unless you are NOT in the club so if no one posts"Your in" you are in.

Yeah, It's confusing


Need a Review? Go to Review Request Club

Also please look at my art!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-22 17:54:07


^ Thanks. BTW, should I post some more from my book, or write some original stuff? Either way is fine with me, but what do you guys want?

Oh, Oobeedoopskadoobie(?), if you want more from Lineage of the Half-Blood, just PM me. And please write more of those horror stories. Nice job.

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-22 21:23:32


At 12/22/09 05:54 PM, Zuproc wrote: ^ Thanks. BTW, should I post some more from my book, or write some original stuff? Either way is fine with me, but what do you guys want?

Oh, Oobeedoopskadoobie(?), if you want more from Lineage of the Half-Blood, just PM me. And please write more of those horror stories. Nice job.

Thanks man! I always love to hear from other authors, and I am loving Lineage of the Half Blood so far, I highly recommend you put it all on this thread so many others can view it as well. And I'll keep writing horror, you can bet on that. I'm reading up on my Stephen King, so expect them to get better and better as time goes on. Oh, and I have my own site where I'm posting all of my short stories and articles and crap, it's
www.pagesofinsanity.webs.com

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-22 21:56:58


Alright! I think I've got a winner from Lineage of the Half-Blood. Here's Chapter I everybody!

CHAPTER I
THE NEW HUNT BEGINS

Using all the speed he could muster, Sin hopped on top of a pile of old trash that the town stacked in an old alley between the tavern and someone's home. After making his perch, he jumped once more to rest on the tavern's rooftop. It was a loud tavern, and the best in the town of Aizlen. The mead was plentiful, the food was delicious, the wenches stunningly attractive. There were ten rooms in all, not the biggest of Aizlen's pubs, but the rooms were the largest.
Sin smiled devilishly as he remembered the first time he had come to this tavern, the Bum's Bar, two years ago. He was nineteen then, but had disguised himself as a beggar. The bartender had questioned him on how he had gotten his money, and Sin's reply was: "Sold a coupla' old pieces o' rotten bread to a drunk."
Everyone respected a little cheap shop keeping.
Now, Sin wiped away his smile. He still had a mission to complete. With the flexibility of a cat, he reached over the back of the building, grabbed the top of the window, and launched himself silently, kicking open the door with equal silence. The night was empty save from the Bum's Bar, and darker than blackness itself.
Sin landed in the room without a sound, and noted his target: a merchant with a turban and sand-colored robes sleeping on the bed, his head hanging over the edge and a hand on the floor.
Drunk bastard, thought Sin.
He crept over to the merchant, and shook his head, chuckling slightly at the sight of the merchant holding a knife in his left hand.
This is going to be too easy.
Sin crouched down, so his head was even with the merchant's snoring face. His brown skin was darker than Sin's, who was a light tan-
brown, a natural color for Aizlen residents. Amusing himself, he lightly shoved the merchant, and received a startling awakening from the merchant.
"Did I wake you up?" Sin asked, mockingly.
The merchant suddenly jumped up, and thrust the knife at Sin's face.
Only Sin was quicker, and he grabbed the merchant's wrist, and twisted the arm, drawing a loud crack and a muffled scream from the merchant as Sin's gloved hand covered his mouth.
"Don't make a single sound if you want to live."
But as hard as the merchant tried, he could not keep quiet. Sin, shaking his head in disappointment, quickly drew his dagger from a scabbard on his left thigh, then stopped. He returned it, then stole the merchant's knife.
"Just to confuse the guards. Even if only for a little while," said Sin. He shot his hand forward, shoving the knife deep into the merchant's temple. He then placed his victim's hand on the handle of the knife, as to make it appear as if it was a suicide, not a murder.
"You could've at least tried to make this more fun," said Sin. He sighed, then stood up. "You weaklings don't have a decent-sized backbone that's enough to quit you're crying." He turned from the body, then threw himself out the window.

* * *

The next morning, Sin leaned against the side of the small home across the dirt road from the Bum's Bar, dusting sand from his boots. He was watching, with grim satisfaction, local guards pull the merchant's
dead body from the entrance of the tavern, and to the east, towards the graveyard at the edge of town. When the guards left, Sin applauded himself.
When he was through watching the display, Sin speed-walked through the sandy city, never making a single mistake or slight trip the whole way.
Soon he reached an area with five or so fairly large mounds of sand near the edge of the city, against the granite walls that surrounded Aizlen. He moved to the back-most mound, and stepped into a small hole he had carved as a doorway.
This mound served as Sin's home. There was a small mattress taken from an inn that went out of business, a medium-sized wooden crate stolen from the docks and filled with food, another crate filled with drinking water, and a wooden chest filled with clothes and other apparel to aid in Sin's disguises He immediately went for the crate.

* * *

Several minutes later, Sin, disguised as a mercenary with an eye patch, walked into the building that was the Bounty Hunter's Guild.
He wore black leather boots, sand-colored pants, a black leather belt with twin falchion scabbards (Sin's favorite weapons), a sleeveless black shirt, black fingerless gloves, and a fake black beard to match his hair.
Sin walked over to the Criminal Boards at the back of the room, and caught the attention of five or six of the other mercenaries there.
"Who be ye, stranger?" asked one who had a scar over his left eye but no patch to cover it.
"The name's Patches Quickblades," replied Sin, disguising his voice as a slightly hoarse yet seasoned veteran.
The mercenary held his hand out. "Never knew me real name, but they call me Scar, for this," he said, pointing to his scar. Sin shook his hand. "Ye good wid 'em blades?"
Sin nodded, quickly pulling out the falchions as quickly as one might just lift his hands in the same speed. Scar reached for his cutlass.
Sin laughed. "Don't worry, mate, I ain't 'ere to kill ye. I just showin' ye me speed. Quickblades, 'memba?"
Scar shook his head, laughing as well, as did some of the other mercenaries. "I don't know ye too well, but I sure dun believe ye quick wit dem swords."
Sin nodded, returning the falchions to their sheaths. "Wut scumbags we got 'ere?"
He took a step to the board, and two mercenaries gladly let him through. Sin scanned the boards, looking for the richest bounty. There were two, each worth 200 gold coins. Sin's mouth watered at the thought. He pulled one of the sheets down, for in the Aizlen Bounty Hunter's Guild, one man could take only one sheet.
Scar whistled. "Nice bounty der, mate. Me an' me crew 'ere was 'inking 'bout grabbing one or 'nother, but since ye got one o' dem, we'll go on and take dis un." He reached up and took the other sheet. His mercenary crew cheered.
Sin read the sheet, a bit curious but smiling to himself.

Grougo
Aizlen Guard Refugee
Was once a member of the Aizlen Guard, but abandoned duty one night when he heard of the notorious bandit Sin's arrival. City Guard found
him about two months ago at a small camp a few miles to the west, but he killed two of the guard's with his hammer and left, leading to this warrant for his arrest, or death.
Reward: 200 gold coins.

Scar read his sheet as well.

Wift
Outlawed Thief
Once a bartender of the Gold Fleet, but one night he became drunk, and killed fifteen people and injured fifteen more when he and a group of other drunks set an inn on fire. He managed to escape, but his friends were killed, but before he was killed, one of them said that he left with Grougo to the Westland Desert to the west.
Reward: 200 gold coins.

Sin and Scar then looked at the other's paper, when Scar smiled.
"Ey! Ye know wot? Der might be a chance dat dese two scoundrels are 'anging out togeder. Why dun ye come along wit me an' me crew? We got lotsa food, and some camels to make the trip easier. Wot ye think?"
Sin almost shook his head, but then realized that there was a chance he might be able to snatch more riches than he had planned, and none in Aizlen could argue with that fact.
"Alright, then, Scar. I'll join ye and yer crew."
Scar beamed a yellow grin, and his crew cheered, "hoorah!" at the prospect of having one such as Patches Quickblades at their side.
And thus the hunt began.

More to come soon!

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-25 21:38:52


Please post, guys. This club's getting weak...

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-26 21:36:04


At 12/25/09 09:38 PM, Zuproc wrote: Please post, guys. This club's getting weak...

aye. Does this club do anything, or what?

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-30 18:20:15


Uh, hey. I guess I'd like to join up here. I'm in a creative writing class right now, and i went into it thinking I wouldn't like it; but it turned out to be my favorite class this year. I would post more of my stuff, but i threw a good amount of it out. Not because i didn't like how they turned out; but because i didn't really think they were anything. But then i sort of went through a 'breakthrough' maybe? I dunno, people use that in art when you find your style of painting or whatever; but i've found that i absolutely love writing about inanimate objects and giving them personalities. I think that I like it this way, because the reader doesn't have anything to base stereotypes or personalities from people they know on the characters. I dunno, I think i'm kinda sounding pretentious, so sorry bout that.

How many years have you been writing: Around 3 months
How many flash story's you have written: Flash? Like movies? None
How many real life story's you have written: 4 - 5 i guess. i have a bunch of drafts, and poetry too.
And your name (optional): Bob Geisler

I got two 'plays' that i really like...

For the first one (birds), we had to do one scene. the first two lines were required, and it had to be in an office and the characters had to be either mother/son, father/daughter, etc. And they had to be named chris and sam, and looking for a piece of paper Other than that, I wrote the rest of this thing from scratch. :)

They're all birds by the way.

Sam - I wish we weren't here (mumbling)
Chris - (surprised squawk) Where is it? I know I brought it (subtle worried squawk)
Sam - (high pitched squawk) Wha-at!? Wh-hy even come to see the Ow-w-l-l if w-he don't ha-ave the proper paper-r wo-orkk? REE-EDICULOUSS!!
Chris - Shh! You want the crows to hear us and destroy our nest along with your brothers and sisterss? I had it when we came in.
Sam - Well I-h-hope so-h. Did you hear about the group of sparrows in nest 456, Maple providence? (speaking quickly, nervous?) Very respectable family, oh yess..., but now they're g-gonne! Never seen again! No doubt, by---
Chris - Okay, okay quiet! (nervous throat squawk, suppressed). He-re come the peacocks!
Peacock 1 - (walking up proudly, flashes colors in front of chris and sam before speaking). Two measly pigeons. Here? Why even lay talon or wing, hmph? (stomping foot) I can see your presence is not desired here. (to self: ha hmph, yes, yes. quite right, hmph).
Chris - Standing up slowly) Please sir, we are only here to---
Peacock 1 - (Slaps chris, eyes flaring); Did I give you permission to speak?
Chris - N-no s-sir-r (wimpering)
Peacock 1 - Then be sure to remember this before you open your beak again. Now what is so important that you have to wase (<- emphasis) my time escorting you around this holy palace; spreading your filth and lies around with you? (to self: ha, hmph, yes, nicely said).
Chris - My son-n and I -h ha-a (swallows, brief pause). (attempt at eloquence ->) have come here at the Great Owl's request, f-for he wi-ishes (sniff) to see us on the subject of the sidewalks in level 59A, Tiravalania division (suppressed nervous throat squawk)
Peacock 1 - (speaking quickly) Oh-h. Please sir I meant no disrespect. Well I mean I did. But that's just the nature of us b-birds right? I mean I'm-m sure you guys- It's just that- Please sir, don't tell the Great Owl. I just thought that you would be seeing the Pheonix or the Raven; one of the lesser bird (half-laugh nervous ->) y'know. Not the ow-wl. Have mercy; it would sa-ave my life if you didn't mention this in-ncendent.
Chris - Hmm, well I suppose so... Why don't we make it a bit more interesting at least? you escort my son and I to the owl without the paperwork that is normally required, and we forget this happened, alll right?
Peacock 1 - Well, that does g-go against ever-rything I believe in...
All right it's a deal.
Chris - Right-O! Lead on chippy chap chip!

(door knocking)
Owl - Hm? Yes,hm, come in.
Peacock 1 - H-her-re are the pig-geons sir-r.
Owl - Think you, hm, Jeremy
Chris - S-sir, we are h-here to (swallows), to speak with you a-about the s-sidew-walks in level 59A, Tiravalania division.
Owl - Oh! (hoot as if it's humorous). Yes, I thought you might, hm, say that! You really, hm, think that I care about such, hm, small matters? (shakes feathers)
(pause 5 seconds)
Chris - Well, you see---
Owl - Such haste! I know, hm, that you got that letter from the dove two days ago. That you were first, hm, excited then terrified of the visit. And I also know that you don't, hm, have the proper, hm, paperwork to be here right now. But all that's excusable, hm, for right now.
Chris- I, uh, I see.
Owl - No you don't. Hm, not yet at least. But all will make sense in due time. Now listen. I called you two, hm, pigeons to rule over here after I'm gone (hoot!)
Chris - What?
Owl - Yes, yes. I'm sure you might be thinking how, hm, 'wrong' this might seem. But listen to me first, before you protest, let me, hm, tell my side of the issue at hand...

Owl - Too long have I, hm, ruled with an iron fist. Silencing any that, hm, opposed me, public executions, corruption in even the smallest things; you've seen what is happening in the empire. Unfortunately, so has the, hm, Council of Eagles. The crows, (sighs), will be here for me within the, hm, week. There is no chance of, hm, survival. But I welcome death now. It seems like an age since I, hm, first took over. And from that first day onwards, I have, hm, used extreme fear, force, and, hm, intimidation to acquire what I needed, or in some cases desired. But I have always regretted this, hm, style of governing.
Chris - Then why didn't you, ahhhh I dunno, change?
Owl - Change! (hoot!) what an obscure thought! Never crossed my mind! (<- sarcastic)
Owl - Of course I wanted to change! But as there always, hm, is; the politics of the empires and providences and such. All things YOU have to learn my dear boy. Or, hm, man I should say. I've just grown too, hm, old. (<- shakes wing sideways across in front of himself).
Owl - But that's for another time. The crows are coming soon, and we, hm, don't have much time to, hm, 'dilly-dally' as your kind likes to say. They are coming, and by tradition, the Council has sent me a warning dove. And also by tradition, I must select an heir. Which is where YOU come in.
Chris - But why us? We're the lowest of the ranks of Birds.
Owl - Isn't it obvious? You two were selected BECAUSE you were, hm, the lowest of ranks. All the killings and racism: a direct result of the rank order. Think of Jeremy, the peacock. His, hm, arrogance was over-whelming, was it not? No, no. We do not need anymore of THAT. Putting a 'measly pigeon' as he likes to call you in charge will rectify everything.
Owl - You see, I have studied your, hm, kind, for a while now. You, hm, possess caring, compassion, empathy; everything the Leaders of Birds do not possess. And everything they need more of. So! assuming you agree; I shall name you 'The Great Pigeon' and Emporer. And your son a Duke and Heir to the Throne.
Chris - Wow, this is great. I have always thought of you as, oh I dunno, some scary mean dictator up in the clouds, but I see now your, uh, sensitive side? We'll gladly accept!

I dunno, this one is ok. I really think i could improve on it; and this was all done in one go, with no revisions. So yeah, I think this one is halfway decent. not my best

-

My other play though, i really like how it turned out. It was an attempt at juvenalian satire, which is like satire since it criticizes society, but not in a playful sorta way. this was for my creative writing class, and it was required for one character wants something from another character, but it isn't tangible (e.g. a piece of paper, an apple, etc) i think i made the message clearer in here than in birds.

there's too much characters, so i'll post it later. i gotta go eat, so i'll be back in a little bit.

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-30 18:43:09


all right here's my second one...

78
By Bob Geisler

Cast:
78 - A leaf, halfway between life and death
The world - Not the actual planet, but the spirit of the world
The ground - Not the actual ground as in soil, but the spirit of the ground. In some sense, one with The
world.

Setting:
Forest, late autumn, bitter and unyielding temperature, leafless trees in surrounding area

SCENE 1

I came to life at the beginning of our time. I've seen my brothers and sisters plucked out of existence on a daily basis, only because of the simple fact that the passerbys were bored. They were my friends and the only leaves I could converse with. Oh, we discussed many things. How the pinecones could occupy the trees and the air. Both things we leaves try to achieve. But both of them out of reach as a result of the passerbys' existence. I've seen the others mulched and mutilated only hours after leaving this tree and our existence. The only thing that we wish is to leave our tree. Our existence is forever bound to this tree. We loathe it, we love it; we can never decide. You might think that being plucked out of the only thing that we can truly call home might help us achieve our goal of seeing the world, but you would be mistaken by thinking this. We cannot survive without our primary source of life. Our lives and souls are stripped away mere hours after leaving our tree. And so is the dilemma of us leaves. We enjoy the security and solitude that our tree so graciously gives us, but still desire to see more.

The world - You know this is impossible.

78 - Perhaps, but all things must evolve at some point.

The world - This is not evolution that you speak of, but sheer and total change in the fabric of our reality and planet. To do what you would ask of me is not only beyond my power, but beyond reason. Think of the consequences before you make hasty decisions and create arguments with those that-

78 - Do not talk to me like I am one of your lesser beings of no significance. I have been here longer than any of the others. The other leaves respected me and asked me for wisdom, before they were destroyed by those that you created.

The world - Is your wisdom truly great, or have you not yet opened your eyes to what is and what is not. You say that you have been here longer than any before you. This is, in some sense of what you make of it, true, but it is also false in a number of different ways.

78 - Just as I had heard, you speak in riddles when asked of something. I understand that your wisdom and power is beyond my comprehension, but that does not give you the right to confuse me intentionally and give me equivocal reasoning of if I am right or wrong. Which is it? Surely it is one of the two.

The world - You are as naïve as I thought you would be. I am correct in my statement, and stand by it. You are right in saying that you have been here longer than the others. But you are wrong in saying that as well.

78 - Speak sense!

The world - Can't you see what you are and how you are just one lonely speck on a much larger scale? You have been here longer than the others yes, but only the leaves. Take the tree in which you are attached to. One 'existence' as you like to call it is just one small insignificant hour, without meaning or reason. Or the ground of which you desire so much of; it has been in the same spot longer than your simple mind can comprehend. It has seen many 'passerbys' come and go, live and die. It has housed their small fragile bodies from when they are first lowered into its mouth: full of flesh and bone, and flowers from other 'passerbys' that join them shortly afterwards, to when they are nothing but another empty box filled with bones that can no longer be an adequate feast for the maggots and worms. The 'passerbys' are just as insignificant as you are. What they believe to be a 'long time' from when the others die to when they are lowered into the mouth is nothing but another short hour for the ground. You see, what they find to be an entire existence is nothing but a speck of unimportant time to the ground.

78 - Why are you telling me all this? I did not ask for a history lesson. I have known all of this since the day I was born, so long ago.

The world - Did you really? Or are you trying to give me a false impression of you so as to trick me into giving you the power you so desperately desire. If you really had known and understood what I am trying to tell you, then you would realize the importance of it. What you would ask of me would completely shatter that which is the backbone of this planet and its existence. To alter your reality would affect others'. Surely you would have realized this if you had really known and understood the meaning of which is the ground.

78 - YOU must understand though; this life, all of the leaves' lives really, are too long and filled with no excitement or action. That is, of course, other than when the passerbys destroy my brothers and sisters. Surely you must realize that this existence is not desirable. We need a change in this reality; consequences be damned.

The world - You dodge questions just as I had expected you to. I have known your course of actions since the day you were born. Every thought, belief, motive, and even the movement in which you do on a daily basis controlled by the wind. Every last one. Just as I have known, and will know the same actions in all other living things on this planet.

78 - So you have already made your decision, and this argument is meaningless.

The world - Not quite. There are always holes in my sight-seeing; determined by those like yourself and your existence. Choices if you will. Be proud and arrogant, and I will most likely reject your offer. Be more passive, and look at things from a different perspective; and I may consider it.

78 - Why is this necessary? Surely you will know that if I act sincere, that I will be faking it. And if I continue this path, I will not acquire what I need.

The world - Need? You do not need anything. You are of no significance. Before you realize this, I will not even consider what you ask of me.

(END SCENE 1)

SCENE 2

This argument lasted all throughout the afternoon of that year. As evening approached, I thought that we had come to terms with one another. I had learned much about myself and of what is significant and of importance to the grand scheme of things, and what is not. But the world would still not grant me the power that I wanted above all else.

78 - Please, this is the only thing that I desire. Nothing else in this reality has meaning anymore. All the other leaves are gone. I am so very alone. The only thing that I ask of you, no, beg of you is to bestow me the power to travel where I fancy. Not burdened by being attached to this tree.

The world - You have come a long way. At first you only desired this power for the reason that you thought you needed it. Now you see that you have only ever desired it, and that it is not in your best interest to make hasty arguments and to not review your decisions before you make them. However, you still think that you alone deserve this power. Before you realize that other leaves may have the same wish as you, I cannot bestow this power upon you.

78 - My entire existence has been spent conversing the same thing every last day. How we want to break free from this tree. Is that not enough?

The world - No. You have sympathized with them. Gave false empathy to them. But you would see them stuck to the same twig for all of your reality's eternity while you went where you pleased. You must understand this in order to fully earn this power. But you cannot. You have not. And so you must be bound to your fate. Maybe one day we will meet again. Goodbye 78.

(Bill, walking by casually, picks 78 of the low branch he is attached to and drops it without a second thought)

I felt all life being drained out of my body. Slowly, it was leaving me. I felt the echoes of my past departing my fragile body and returning to the tree in which they had only really ever felt content as I slowly fell; left, then right, but still downwards to the ground. (1 of 2)

Response to Writers Club 2009-12-30 18:47:08


(2 of 2)

I felt curiosity fill me even in those moments of intense pain. The ground, the same spot I had stared at for my entire life, was approaching quickly.

(78 screams as he touches the ground)

The ground - Yes, and so here you finally are. I have already spoken to The world about you. It seems that you, even as a lowly, seemingly insignificant leaf, has caused so much disarray into that which is our daily life that The world has ordered me into speaking with you. We are connected, The world and I. What he thinks, I think. What I think, he thinks. I have heard your entire conversation, and now I must continue it. What happened with Bill, one among many simple-minded 'passerbys', was preordained to happen. Had you thought about your decisions and arguments, you might be traveling where you pleased. But no, your arrogance and feeling of self-importance has cost you greatly. And consequently, you now deserve what has happened to you.

(END SCENE 2)

SCENE 3
I felt my skin hardening, my color turning brown; slowly but surely my life was leaving me. My only companion during my last hour was criticizing me, mocking me even. I felt betrayed, angry at both the world for allowing such a thing to happen, and at myself for placing my trust in such a lying deceitful being.

(78 has trouble breathing)

The ground - Yes, breathe. Breathe both in and out. Feel the crisp air inflate your lungs and feel of which it gives so freely to those who ask of it. Savor what you have always taken advantage of and truly appreciate it. Understand that you are of no significance and that you are not the only being that is important on this planet. You have lost your chance of your power but maybe you can still earn enlightenment during these last few seconds of life.

78 - (gasp) Why? WHY would you let this (gasp) happen!? (Coughing)

The ground - Why? Is it not obvious? It seems that you have not learned as much as I thought you had. But perhaps you have earned a few moments of enlightenment. Your ignorance, your pride, all attributed to this death. You, thinking of yourself of importance, increased the gravity of the situation. When I first saw this encounter with you so long ago, I thought that it was just a small matter which did not require much of my attention. I figured, which I see now was wrong of me, and that surely you would realize in all your wisdom that your existence was not of importance. That maybe you would treat me with respect, and be aware that there are things beyond your comprehension. I was patient with you. I tried to see things from your perspective, so as to see why it would be important to the grand scheme of things. Clearly, this was an error in my judgment. So now, you begin yet another journey. Feel my roots touching your decaying body.

(The ground moves The roots to touch 78 violently)

The ground - Did you feel that? That was only a taste as to what's to come. Soon, you will join the others that feel that their existence is important.

I felt the small branchling of the root near me move quickly. It crushed what was left of my body and grabbed my very soul. I felt myself being ripped apart, torn limb from limb; and being slammed into other realities. Other worlds even. All underneath of that which is what I had believed to be our planet. Extreme heat, followed by extreme cold. I felt everything that I had hated in my old life thrust into my mind once again. Boredom, anger, apathy, guilt; everything. Such an existence was too much to bear. I don't know how long I was in that torture chamber, but eventually I ended up at the center of all things in existence. And it's here that I sit, stuck to a lifeless twig. No companions to converse with, no passerbys to alleviate my boredom, nothing to hope for, or anything at all. And it is here that I shall sit for all eternity, staring at the same blank spot. Always wondering, never understanding.

END

Thanks a bunch. I'd love some feedback on this. There's some symbolism and a message behind it; so if you guys wanna say what you think it is that'd be cool.

Response to Writers Club 2010-01-02 03:33:25


Okay, I kinda hope that things liven up ab it more, but hell, if not this was definatly worth a shot.

How many years have you been writing: I would say a couple of months of writing stories, i'll post some later ;) but i have a couple of years of writing in general under my belt.

How many flash story's you have written: Sadly none, though I have a large interest in doing it. Work is hard to come by when you have no idea where to start looking.

How many real life story's you have written: I hve multiple projects going on still but i'm going to count them, so counting the 2 that are still going on here, I have 14 stories. 11 of them are from a series I'm writing that is still in process and is about halfway done, though insparation is lacking so thats been slow. The others are a more serious thing that I'm quite proud of, but i'll post those if anyone has an interest after... you know, they post n' stuff.

And your name (optional): Murphy, but my friends mostly call me shamrock because of my irish accent. (parents were born in Ireland)

Response to Writers Club 2010-01-10 01:34:21


Damn. This topic went from page 1 to page 3/4. That sucks. Plz people, liven the place up!

Response to Writers Club 2010-01-10 16:41:19


Anybody got anything they wrote lately? Anything to post? Cuz I aint got shit.