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Relym
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« on: September 17, 2009, 02:16:05 AM » |
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Alright, I figured since I've opened up at least a dozen threads in this sub-forum, I decided to finally admit that I'm the only one that posts here and I'll just make my own thread. As for my first addition to this thread, I have a short story/first chapter thing going on. Here it goes:
Gregor sat on his usual barstool, waiting for his friend to show up. He was always "unfashionably late", as Gregor liked to call it, but an hour and a half was preposterous. He was about to accept that Randy was never going to arrive and he should just head home when the baseball game came on the television behind the bar. He was fairly sure that his favorite team, the Arizona Diamondbacks, would be losing again as they always did. Of course, it was 7 runs to 2. He had no particular reason to like the D-backs, since he wasn't from Arizona and the team was terrible. He supposed it was a morbid curiosity in him to see just how many runs can be scored against a single team in a season. His curiosity was well satiated to say the least.
"Two beers," said a confident female voice next to him. He turned to see a pretty young woman sitting down next to him. The bartender placed the chilled, frosting bottles in front of her, and she opened the first with a flourish. Gregor looked around for a boyfriend or a date who would open the second one, but he saw nobody.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Gregor said, leaning over to her, "But who is the second beer for?" He glanced around. Perhaps her accompaniment had gone off to the bathroom or something. The woman laughed.
"It's for me. I'm gonna be here a while." She took another swig of the drink. "Just been dumped," she said, answering Gregor's unspoken question. "But I've found that all memories can be drowned out with something."
"I'm sorry," He said, now feeling abashed, "I didn't mean to- Well, that is to say I- I'm sorry." He felt continually more stupid as he talked, and decided to just shut up and face forward again, sipping his draft.
There was a short silence, and then the woman spoke. "The D-backs are doing horribly," She chuckled and cracked open her second beer.
"You know, I couldn't agree more. One of their worst line-ups as far as I can remember."
"Well, I wouldn't say that," She said, shrugging. They've got plenty of good players. They're pitching is just very weak this season." Gregor was surprised to hear that she was so into the game.
"You're a fan too, are you?" He asked, turning to face her again.
"Season tickets," She responded simply. "And they've won each game I've attended."
"That's strange. They always lose when I go to see 'em." He grinned.
"I guess I'm good luck and you're a curse." She said, winking at him. It made him shiver with unexplainable delight.
"I wonder what would happen if we both went together," Gregor chuckled. "The game would probably go on forever, tied at 0-0 into the 20th inning."
"That is quite a good question," She replied. "For the sake of science, we should find out."
"What? What do you mean?"
"We both go to the game," She said, "And have an experiment. Purely scientific, of course. Consider data collection."
"Well, if it's for the sake of knowledge," Gregor said, shrugging in mock contemplation. "I suppose that would fit in for me."
"Excellent. They're coming here next weekend. Does that work for you?"
It did, and so they continued to talk, and exchange information. Before either of them knew any time had passed, it was midnight and the bar was closing. "What's your name?" Gregor asked as they allowed themselves to be shepherded out by the bartender. "It wouldn't do us much good to make plans if we don't even know what to call each other."
"Kelsey. My name's Kelsey." She said, turning to face him in the chilly air, her parka pulled tight around her torso. "And I know that your name's Gregor."
"How did you-?"
"It says on your shirt, Mr. Truck Driver." She poked the iron-on patch with his name on it with her first finger, smiling broadly. "I'll see you later."
No editing, I copied it word for word from all the notes I've written down the past few days. Please help me.
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Relym
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« Reply #1 on: October 13, 2009, 11:31:56 PM » |
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Chapter 1: Snow fell slowly, but thickly, obscuring the whitening world. Silently, unhindered by wind, the small flakes spun aimlessly and collected on the ground and in the trees. Only an Outsider would be willing to wander through the blinding, freezing curtains descending upon the hard earth; and so he did.
The man was tall, and hidden beneath a thick leather coat. The snow built on his shoulders and hat, and his large boots shuffled through several inches of the stuff. Despite this, he did not seek shelter within any of the large, fire-lit buildings between which he walked; after all, he was an Outsider. Outsiders were not welcome in the small village of Thredhast. Ever since the first sightings of the plague in the neighboring town of Limbiac, no doors were to be opened for anyone arriving, and anyone who left was barred out forever. At night, all doors were locked, lest an infected person enter one of the houses and cause an outbreak.
Many of these unwelcome travelers were scattered throughout the streets; each of them driven out of their town by the plague. Although there were no visible symptoms in most of them (a few were coughing and beginning to change color), they were still not allowed to enter any form of shelter in the village. Not after so many had witnessed the disturbing transformation undertaken by those infected. Personally, I believed that the chance of transmission of the plague in this weather was slim, considering it was an airborne virus and it was killed by temperature extremes, but who was I to counter the advice of so many mayors untrained in medicine of any kind? After all, I was just a lowly doctor. What would I know about diseases?
Perhaps my bitter feelings stem from my condemnation. I was one of the huddled balls surrounding a weak and sputtering fire. No matter how many blankets were thrown on top of me, no matter how large or how near the fire, the cold struck through you like a million icy spears. The sensation was made all the more painful by the knowledge that a proper fire and a warm bed were mere yards from your shivering, hungry body. Several times, a lone Outsider would approach a cottage and knock feebly on the door, but of course there was no answer; the spoiled, ignorant villagers inside were too stiff with fear to even consider the possibility that innocent, healthy children and pregnant women were in peril just beyond the reaches of their comfort.
I rolled over, my back to the fire, as well as the cold hearts occupying the warm homes. I knew that this would warm me up faster, and I don’t think I could stand to watch any longer anyway.
When I woke up, several inches of snow weighted my blankets. I shook it off, pushed the blanket from over my head, and gazed around at the dazzlingly bright morning. The snow reflected sunlight like millions of minuscule gems, though they were hardly as appreciated. I shivered slightly; the air around me was less than comfortable. There were several other heaps of blankets surrounding me. They looked like breathing mounds of cloth, but I knew they were groups of Outsiders, just like me.
There were two discolored and scrawny bodies laid out a distance away, and I assumed that those had been the casualties in the night. Their clothes had been looted, so their yellowing, bone-thin bodies were exposed to the cold, and worse; to my vision. I was not afraid of death, or of the dead. I was a doctor, after all. It was the thought that sometime throughout the night, someone had rolled over to talk to their father, or mother, or child, and found a corpse where their loved one once lay.
Maybe I was just afraid because it could happen to me at any day. Of course, the disease could not be transmitted in this chill; the cold would surely kill any microbe by the time it reached your lungs after venturing from someone else’s. At least, that’s what I told myself. I may have been an expert on medicine, but this was no ordinary sickness. Each time someone designed a vaccine, it mutated and found a way to burst through the protection provided by the feeble injection.
Some rumors say that it could be transmitted through water, and even the touch of the skin. I shivered again at this thought, and I could hardly imagine the widespread horror if it was announced that town wells could be infected, and you might be condemned to death by a friendly handshake, or a hug from your grandmother... or a kiss, from your lover.
But of course, it was all just rumor. It would take months, or even years to develop the ability to do that, by which time the cold would surely have killed off the species of cell. With that thin comfort in mind, I emerged from my blankets and stood up, stretching and brushing off snow from my body.
“Hello, there, Doctor!” A voice called out to me from somewhere across the street. “Glad to see you’re not infected yet.”
It was Ian, my neighbor from back home. “Yet? That’s quite depressing, sir.” I called back, not wishing to get too close to this man, whose eyelids and cheeks were beginning to yellow; the first sign that one was infected.
“Well, what can I say,” He said, beginning to walk over to me, instead. “I could give you comfort, but what good would that do you in these times? If you pretend everything’s fine, then you’re a fool as well as a dead man.”
“Well said, Mr. Reymond.” I lied. Although he had a good point, I forbade myself to admit it, even to myself. I backed up infinitesimally as he approached, wanting to be as far away from him as I could, while not seeming rude. “How are you feeling, lately, Mr. Reymond?” I asked nervously, seeing that his face was much more discolored than it had seemed from across the street. His eyes and nose were crusted with mucus.
“Oh, not bad,” He replied, “A little cough here and there, of course, but that’s only natural this time of ye-” He began to cough. Not once or twice, like you would to clear your throat, but like a dying man. His breath came sharply and hoarsely, and his clutched at his throat. I ran away as he collapsed to the ground.
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Relym
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« Reply #2 on: October 28, 2009, 09:24:19 AM » |
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Acedia crept through the room like a fungus; slow, and insentient, but steady and overwhelming. The suffocating, susurrous silence seemed stentorian in it's strenth. Kenneth, who shared my dormitory, sat diffident in the noiseless room. I tried to extract some conversation from him, but as usual, my circumlocution during parol seemed to only send him deeper in his shyness. He simply sat, stroking his oleaginous dundrearies, occasionally stopping to flick some phegmatic hair product that had accumulated on his fingers as he did so.
Finally, I spoke. "When was the last time we dusted this room?" Kenneth only sat in continues silence, but looked concentrated, ruminating on that thought. As I awaited an answer (or a lack of one), I glanced around the room at the thick, brackish motes drifting in the air. A brackish, musty scent loomed over us, and as a quinquagenarian, my sinuses aren't as untenable as young Kenneth's. An ominous suspense filled my mind; I knew that sternutation was inescapable. In the last, penultimate, dilatory moments, filled with effort to obviate the final event, I nictitated foolishly. I would not allow myself to slake my own need; to pacify the growing urge. Surely, Kenneth would not allow me to escape his own ridicule if I did.
But it was too late. After one, endless, incorrigible moment, it was over. The next seconds were marked by quiescence; perhaps disaster was not the result after all. Of course it was. My fellow denizen, known to be risible, if quiet, was chuckling across the room. I blinked to mitigate the rheum caused by the expulsion just seconds before, and then Kenneth was laughing; howling, jeering, shrieking with it. Vociferation had no effect; his amusement was immutable. I was infuriated by this effrontery.
Defenestration suited the scenario quite well.
If you go through the trouble of finding the definitions for all the words, you'll understand what this story was about.
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Relym
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« Reply #3 on: November 04, 2009, 04:07:09 AM » |
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Character’s note: If, at any time during your examination of this manuscript, you find yourself nonplussed by my cloying, perspicacious legarity, epistemic nimiety, or mordant funambulism, then you might as well *stop.
*expel this trenchant diatribe, no doubt utter some obscene obluquy, and then sit in silence until you fall into utter desuetude, because although my interdigitated language may not be quotidian to your kind, it is to me.
Thank you.
Chapter 1:
The worn epitaph, located lugubriously in the center of the cemetary, was almost cacographic. No, I apologize. Extirpate that from your memory. It was thoroughly cacographic. Alfresco as it was, it was wholly denude to estival winds, leaving a mere eolian boulder behind, thus bereft of any information that may evince a germane fact or hint of what I was so far frustratingly deprived of. Anything at all that might limn an enlightening, epiphanic depiction of a clue. Alas, only extraneous and irrelevant palaver was scattered across my vision, leaving me with frustratingly exiguous instruction with which to cerebrate a conclusion.
Despite my inability do infer a scrap of information from the marmoreal face, I espoused myself to its final elucidation anyway. Taking out my omnipurposeful translation kit, I scanned the contents for anything remotely similar to the heiroglyphic nonsense before me. Before I could find anything, however, a vociferous callithump extravasated in my auditory peripherals. Revolving on the spot, I witnessed the sudden debarkation pf my leonine assistant, Lucas, through the surrounding frondescence, bellowing clamorously. His dark skin glowed rutilantly in the moonlight, and his dreadlocks seemed eerily vermicular. His gibbous coiffure ricocheted off of itself as he galumphed his way nearer to me. I couldn’t help but laugh at his panache of untidy vibrissa atop his capular monstrosity.
Lucas and I are kindred spirits. Not in a romantic, perfunctory way that our culture has generally accepted the term, but rather in the way that we both had an anomalous ability to construe labyrinthic perplexities in the chronological space only slightly more substantial that of a picosecond. Lucas’s clamor retired, he sat next to me with a precipitous “Hello,” which was his own version of reporting for duty.
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Relym
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« Reply #4 on: January 11, 2010, 11:44:11 AM » |
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I suppose this thread is more ignored than I had hoped. Now I plan to use it as a brainstorming/drafting thread, in hopes that if anyone bothers to post here, I might get some feedback.
NEW STORY:
Small parties of warriors travel together, fighting each other and looting the dead.
Probably post-apocalyptic, or the remnants of an invaded/collapsed kingdom.
Magical beings lead these groups.
When one dies, it's power is absorbed by the killer, human or otherwise.
The most powerful are unapproachable, and run a sort of monopoly on the magical power.
Storyline:
1- Two humans are serving sentry duty, watching the perimeters of their master's castle (which was found, not built, for him). He is a very powerful magician, and has killed at least 20 of his fellows to absorb their power. They hear cart wheels from deep in the forest. One reaches to sound the alarm (a drum or a gong or something) but the other stops him. "It could be a delivery, or a returning captive." When the source comes into view, they see a horse drawn carriage, and sure enough, their master's insignia is embroidered in a banner waving from the top of it. They send a soldier on the ground to go meet it.
The soldier stops the carriage and the doors open. A merchant, and assures the soldier that he has brought the gold and food that was ordered. The soldier says that to avoid any problems, he has to search the goods. He enters the carriage and and inspects the food and the bags of gold, and nothing fraudulent or dangerous is found. The soldier says that the cart will be led up the castle without the merchant, because his master doesn't see anyone from the outside.
That's all I got for now.
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Airy
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« Reply #5 on: January 17, 2010, 12:08:19 PM » |
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Wow  ...i never would have guessed that you could write. No efense...just you're always on the game threads and stuff. But your writing is amazing! I mean it too. Do you have more to those stories???  Please tell me you do!!!  But i couldn't find deffinitions to the words in the third story...i tried but came up with nothing  |
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« Last Edit: January 17, 2010, 12:16:15 PM by Airy »
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Relym
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« Reply #6 on: January 17, 2010, 02:19:51 PM » |
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If you want, I can email you stuff. I'm glad that you're interested in my writing.  |
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Airy
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« Reply #7 on: January 17, 2010, 02:22:05 PM » |
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If its good i'm in. And you are good! I would love it if you would email me more
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Relym
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« Reply #8 on: January 19, 2010, 10:22:51 AM » |
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How about I just give you this? http://www.fictionpress.com/u/641032/Walter_AlanEverything that I've deemed publicly acceptable is accessible from that page. EDIT: Here's another poem. I never left you I only cut you open There is a difference If you just keep looking deeper I never loved you I only made you special There is a difference If you just keep looking deeper (This goes to a tune that I made in FL Studio. Follow this link and wait for the main melody (0:39). http://www.newgrounds.com/audio/listen/304604) |
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« Last Edit: January 19, 2010, 11:23:16 AM by Relym »
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Airy
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« Reply #9 on: January 19, 2010, 01:14:12 PM » |
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Wow..you're really good!
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Relym
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« Reply #10 on: January 19, 2010, 01:20:00 PM » |
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Thanks! Did you listen to the song?
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Airy
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« Reply #11 on: January 19, 2010, 01:21:24 PM » |
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The page wouldn't load... |
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Relym
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« Reply #12 on: January 19, 2010, 01:31:43 PM » |
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Aw, man. That's what totally makes the poem awesome.
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Airy
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« Reply #13 on: January 19, 2010, 01:33:02 PM » |
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Its probably my connection...i will try agian later
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Relym
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« Reply #14 on: January 19, 2010, 01:43:27 PM » |
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Please do. You also may not have the latest version of flash player.
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John and Mary had never met before, much like two hummingbirds who had also never met before.
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Brackenwood
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Welcome back! The site migration is complete and normal service resumed.
