Young Writers discussion

note: This topic has been closed to new comments.
105 views
Archives > NaNo Excerpts (2012)

Comments (showing 1-50 of 141) (141 new)    post a comment »
« previous 1 3

message 1: by Alicia (Lav) (last edited Sep 12, 2012 05:41PM) (new)

Alicia (Lav) | 22636 comments Mod
Post something you've written in your NaNo novel!


message 2: by Kriss (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
It was a rainy day; in history books, the date is remembered, but very rarely is there a description of the weather. Perhaps that is merely reserved for awkward conversations. But the overcast skies merely contributed to the situation at hand. They helped to paint a stark picture.

There was a man. He was running. The trees rose up around him, dark and ominous, and he could glimpse ahead of him the towering wall of the City. The light of the City rose up beyond the fence, radiant in the dusk. The branches reached out. They snatched at his clothing. They ripped at his face. His breath clouded the air, and he struggle to get enough of it.

A gunshot rang out. Bang. A flock of crows took off into the sky, silhouettes against the drizzling clouds. They cawed, the sound more ominous then the trees. It was like an omen.

The man fell. He stumbled, rolling and writhing, pain painted on his face. The bullet tore through his calf, and down he went, blood welling around the wound. He found himself staring at the earth, the decomposing leaves and the wet dirt. The smell of it was overwhelming. The pain was even more so.

“Look at this,” he heard something say. “Is it a man?”

“It can’t be.”

“It is. There weren’t any fleets out today, were there?”

“No, there weren’t any fleets.”

Hands reached out. He stared into the dirt as they tugged at his clothing. When he tried to move, he felt a boot at his pack, keeping him down. “Stay,” someone commanded.

His ears were ringing from the gunshot. His leg throbbed with each wild beat of his heart.

“He isn’t dressed like a serf, either.”

“No. He’s dressed like one of us.”

It was then that someone struck out at him. He was staring at the ground, at the wet, mottled leaves and the deep, rich earth. He felt pain. And then he saw and felt nothing.

*****

Later he awoke to a flash of cold water, poured down the back of his neck and into his hair. It soaked his shirt, and he gasped for breath. The pain returned. Sharp and fresh.

“What’s your name?”

He was disorientated. When he didn’t answer immediately, his hand was struck by something, hard. He cried out and raised his eyes to the people that stood around him. Men and women, wearing sternness like a mask. He flinched.

“Matthias Junger,” he answered, surprised at the sound of his own voice.

The lights flickered. He flinched again, staring up at the empty, dark eyes above him. He curled on the concrete of an enclosed room—for a moment, he thought there was no door, but he saw a vague outline of one in a shadowy corner. There were four people, he thought, and upon second glance they were not so stern as they were skeptical.

“Where are you from?”

He couldn’t find his tongue for a moment. And when he did, he wished he hadn’t. “City 63.”

The looks of shock were indescribable. He knew why. He knew that that had been one of the most unintelligent things he had ever said. He knew the blow was coming before it even hit, right in the ribs.

“Don’t lie, Matthias. You don’t want to lie to us.”

“I’m not lying!” Stupider still. He waited for the next blow, curling inward on himself. but just as one of the men drew back their leg to kick him, a voice called out.

“Stop.”

The kick did not come. Matthias rolled his head, and he saw that another man had entered, a tall and slender man that made him think of a scarecrow, perhaps. His eyes were hollows in his head, and his jaw was the replica of Adonis; but only his jaw. Matthias could not remember feeling such pure terror before; so wild and unadulterated. He was an animal, scrambling to be against the wall, eyes wide and bloodshot. Yes. He was a reduced to an animal, in that moment, a feral coward.

“Matthias Junger,” the man said softly. “I’m afraid that you do not exist here.”


message 3: by Alicia (Lav) (new)

Alicia (Lav) | 22636 comments Mod
The girl strapped to the table stopped screaming weeks ago, but the sound still haunts me. She doesn’t move, even though her lips still twitch into a cold smile in my mind. She barely breathes, but I still see her gasping for breath when I close my eyes at night. And her eyelids don’t flutter anymore. She can’t stare into my soul now, but it still feels like she’s taken possession of me. I try not to remember what she looked like the first time I saw her. Her eyes were full of passion and she held her head high like her existence meant something. She stayed silent through things I never imagined and kept her strength longer than we ever knew could be possible. We fought her for a long time, but she refused to break. Her hair isn’t shiny anymore. It used to be brilliant but now it’s dull and stringy. Her pale skin is covered in scars we don’t have time to heal. Her muscles are starting to atrophy and we’re losing her. She’s still alive but her mind shut down before we had the chance to watch her fall apart. We’ve tried everything and she still refuses to break.

I yank her shirt up and grab a small knife from the toolbox that sits next to the board to which the girl is strapped down. There are a few places we haven’t tried yet and the people in charge are starting to get desperate. I graze the blade of the knife with my fingertip, careful not to apply too much pressure. And then I place the knife over the girl’s sternum, press down until I see red, and slide it down her chest creating a ten-inch slit on her battered body. Blood oozes out of the cut. I think I see her wince, but the machines connected to the girl show no change. I bite my lip until I can taste her blood.

“Wake up,” I say. She doesn’t obey.



message 4: by [deleted user] (new)

Lav [I am glad to the brink of fear] wrote: "The girl strapped to the table stopped screaming weeks ago, but the sound still haunts me. She doesn’t move, even though her lips still twitch into a cold smile in my mind. She barely breathes, but..."

*fangirls*


message 5: by Mandy (new)

Mandy  Harmon (mandyharmon) | 10724 comments EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.


message 6: by Jayda (new)

Jayda | 2760 comments My prologue. I think it's kind of lame, but I'm tired, so maybe I'm just overthinking.

The year was 3163. Mystical creatures were waging a war against the humans on the planet earth. Our ancestors were winning, until the humans brought to light a new weapon that could destroy us all. Cyborgs - humans turned into part machine - began to roam our dwelling places and killed us in the hundreds. Finally, we were forced into an ultimatum - die off fighting against unrelenting forces, or sign a treaty swearing that our kind would leave this planet, never to return. Queen Cecilia, our faerie queen and ruler of all supernatural creatures, signed the treaty, much to the despair of the vampyres, witches, and werewolves, and thus we were sent to Planet Z, an unnamed planet that was located several million light-years away.
On this new planet realms were established, and all supernatural creatures separated. There was peace in the land for many years, until the evil faeries tried to find a way to return to earth, attempting to break our treaty of survival.The Queen banished the evil faeries, but it was too late. The humans traveled to our planet, ready to destroy us all where we stood. Yet, somehow, Queen Cecilia caused them to stand down and see reason. As a result of the evil faeries’ actions, half of our new world was then taken over by cyborgs and their kings, to watch us and make sure we would never again attempt to return.
Now, thousands of years have passed. Faerie Kings and Queens have come and gone. But, in modern times, a war began to rage between the faeries.

“I don’t care what we have to do, Mage Tullus cannot enter into this realm,” Queen Aress said as the commander of the royal faeries army walked with her down the halls of her palace.
“But Queen, with all due respect, there’s almost no way to keep them out,” Commander Mason said. “They’ve already killed our troops in their realm, and they’re readying for battle.”
“Have you considered inviting Mage Tullus to come here so we can negotiate?” the Queen said.
“Your Majesty, that idea is rather ludicrous. To think that he would be good enough to come here and NOT try to kill you is foolish.”
“It’s better than nothing.”
“Not to lose you.”
Queen Aress stopped in her tracks and turned to him, giving a small, hope-filled smile. “I would rather die, than have thousands of our men, women, and children die because I was too weak to try and negotiate. Send him a message. Invite him for negotiations and I will see what I can do.”
“But your Majesty-.”
“Please do what I say. I do not wish to command you, but if I must, I will.”
He could see a hint of sadness in her eyes, but he nodded, saluted her, and stormed off down the halls of this grand castle. If he were to do it in time, he had to hurry.

Hours later, in the same castle, Queen Aress sat on her throne, a hand on her forehead to fight off a strange ache in her head.
“Our Queen.”
The voice was mocking and cunning, but she need not open her eyes to know who it was that spoke.
“Mage Tullus,” Queen Aress said, raising her eyes to see him standing in her court, staring at her. “I presume you got my proposal to negotiate.”
“I do not wish to negotiate, sadly for you.”
“Then what do you wish?”
A smile crept onto his face, his dark brown hair falling into his black eyes. The black marks on his skin shone in this lighting, signifying all of the magical skills he had mastered in his time. They had been raised together, and they had gone to school together, had even shared a friendship at some point. But, something had happened to him in his youth and now he was the ruler of all evil in this world, even though there could be no other ruler than the royal faerie bloodline.
“I want your throne. Your power.”
“But as you know, I will never give that up.”
“You seem weak tonight.”
“I’m just fine.”
Queen Aress stood to her feet to prove it, but instead she stumbled, suddenly feeling worried that this was not just a mere ache in her head.
“Ah, you appear to have lied to me.”
“Lied?”
“You’re feeling dizzy, aren’t you? And there’s an ache in your temple, I presume?”
The Queen’s purple eyes flashed dark as she looked up at him, her hand on her throne to steady herself.
“You? You did this to me? But, how?”
“I have forces within your army, within these walls. I have power beyond your imagination.”
He walked forward, moving up the steps towards her throne. The Queen began to summon her power to ward him off, but he didn’t come towards her. Instead, he moved to the other side of her throne, picking up her glass that had been full of a potion for strength.
“You poisoned my cup?” she demanded, trying to surge her magical strength through her veins to fight this venom off.
“I poisoned YOU. The potion in this cup wasn’t the standard strength potion. In fact, it was the opposite. It won’t kill you, but it will damage you immensely. You will become paralyzed soon enough, and even your magic won’t be able to protect you while you’re still. That’s when I will rip your heart out.”
Queen Aress’ eyes widened. Suddenly, she felt like an idiot. How had she not noticed the difference? Sure, there had been a slightly different taste, but how had she not noticed it was a different potion entirely? Somehow, in some way, she had been tricked and her mind hadn’t been working enough to catch it. What had happened to her? How had she allowed this to happen?
“You won’t get away with this,” the Queen said, descending down the stairs. “You won’t!”
“Won’t I?” he said with a smirk, watching her go. “You won’t make it far. Your guards won’t hear your attempts to scream. Your voice will go out soon enough.”
Mage Tullus’ eyes glimmered as he slammed the court door shut, locking it. Not that any of the Queen’s guards were alive. They had all been killed as he had walked through the hallways. Soon enough, this palace would be his.
“Don’t try to run,” he said as the Queen picked up her skirts and attempted to run away. Her attempt was weak and soon she fell to the floor on her knees, struggling to breathe. “It’ll only make things worse for you.”
The Queen collapsed and Mage Tullus rolled her over onto her back. Her eyes stared deeply into his soul and he hissed, grabbing her face.
“Don’t try to use your deep magic on me, Aress. It won’t work. It hasn’t worked in years.”
“We were… friends,” she croaked out.
“Not for a long time,” he said as he stared down at her. “Now, this will hurt quite a bit. I’m going to have to rip your heart out. I would ask you to forgive me, but I know that once you’re dead it won’t be possible.”
Her eyes glared at him, no fear evident. He was surprised. Usually when someone was threatened with death they were fearful, but instead she looked almost vengeful, as if she knew something he didn’t. But, he paid no attention to that. He raised his hand, summoning skin-breaking power, and plunged his hand into her chest. Blood spattered his skin, his clothes, covered his hand and arm as he wrapped his fingers around her pumping heart. He could see the pain in her eyes as he grasped it, and then with dark magic, he pulled it from her chest, holding it up to examine. Her final breath left her lungs, the color in her eyes fading, and as he looked away from her, the dark blood of the Queen of the Faeries dripped down his arm, and a smile appeared on his lips. He had succeeded. He had killed the Queen. And now, the Realm of Lights would be his forever.



message 7: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Jayda wrote: "My prologue. I think it's kind of lame, but I'm tired, so maybe I'm just overthinking.

The year was 3163. Mystical creatures were waging a war against the humans on the planet earth. Our ancestors..."


Whoaaaa. Creepy. Me gusta. :D


message 8: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (last edited Nov 01, 2012 10:44AM) (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Okay, here's a bit from my first chapter. I apologize for any typos or whatever. Also, I'll try to censor out the swearing, but here's a warning in case I miss some ... I'm kind of a potty mouth:


So, my sophomore year of high school I started at Starling Firthe Academy. Noah was my roommate last year. Don't get me wrong ... Noah is a cool guy. But man, does he ask a lot of weird-ass questions.

I don't even know where to begin. This sh** happened like every single night. I'd be lying in the top bunk, trying to fall asleep, and then below me I'd hear Noah's voice, and he'd be like, "Hey. Jesse?"

I'd shut my eyes tighter, hoping he'd think I was asleep.

"Jesse, I know you're awake."

"Nope, I'm asleep."

"You can't talk when you're asleep."

"Sure I can. Lots of people do."

"Okay, whatever. Well. I'm just wondering ..."

At this point I'd be thinking, oh boy, here it comes.

"I don't know, I've just been thinking like ... you know how when people almost die, they see that light at the end of the tunnel and stuff? Well like, what if that light at the end of the tunnel is like, the light you first see in your next life as you're coming out of the womb or whatever?"

"I don't know, man. Maybe. Good night."

But then five minutes later, he'd be at it again.

"Hey Jesse. Hey. What if I'm actually dying right now, and all this is like, my life flashing before my eyes?"

"Noah. Shut the f*** up and go to sleep."

"It's just driving me crazy."

"Yeah, me too. Now go to sleep."

It would always be like that. Not every single night, but more frequently than I would have liked.

Well anyway, the reason I bring this up is because actually, one of Noah's questions is a good starting point for this damn story I'm trying to tell. This time, at least it wasn't when I was trying to fall asleep, but it was when I was doing homework, which was almost as bad.

I was sitting at the desk, trying to take notes or something. Noah was sitting on his bunk, reading The Catcher in the Rye, which he'd been assigned for some class he was taking.

"Done," he said at last.

I didn't look up from my work. "Cool."

Noah was silent for a few long seconds. I glanced up at him, and saw him turning the small, paperback book in his hands. "The ending felt kind of ... sudden."

"I guess so."

"You've read it?"

"Yeah."

"Well ... yeah. I don't know. I just kind of turned the page and there was nothing there. That's what it felt like. Just like, 'Oh ... that's it?'"

"So, you didn't like it?"

"No, no. I mean, yeah. I did like it. And I mean, I'm not saying that I didn't like the ending, either. It was a cool ending, I guess. It's just kind of driving me crazy now."

Oh boy. I knew that if something was driving Noah crazy, he wasn't going to be able to shut up about it.

"It's just, whenever I finish a book, especially when it has an ending like that––one that's kind of open-ended, you know––I keep wondering what happens to the characters after the book ends."

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, you want to be a writer, don't you?"

"Um, yeah."

"So, tell me. What happens to characters after the story ends?"

"Uh ... nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?"

I sighed and put my pencil down, and turned around to glare at him. "Isn't it obvious? I mean, the characters are fictional. They're not real people. After the story ends, they just cease to exist or whatever."

"So, what? They just evaporate into nothingness?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's exactly what they do."

Noah stared at the book in his lap and shook his head. "I don't know, man. That's not what I think." He paused, as if he were waiting for me to ask him what he was thinking, but I knew that he would tell me regardless of whether I asked or not so I didn't say anything.

"I think maybe fictional characters just live in some alternate universe," Noah said. "When people create them, they just pop up in another dimension, or some sh** like that. But when the person stops writing about them, they still are there somewhere ... They have to go on with their lives. And I mean, even if that's not really true, don't you ever wonder about it? Don't you wonder what happens to all those fictional people after their books are over?"

I shrugged. "I guess so, yeah."

"Like, I'm just thinking about Holden Caulfield and I wonder what the heck he's going to do with the rest of his life, what he's going to be like when he's forty years old or something, if he lives that long. And I think about it every time I finish reading something. You know ... when those kids in Lord of the Flies leave the island, what are the rest of their lives like? Do they grow up and have kids and tell stories like, 'Hey, one time I was on this creepy island with a bunch of other boys and we all tried to kill each other. Ha ha, good times.'? What about Alice when she leaves Wonderland? Does she grow up and think that it was all a trippy dream or something?"

"Noah, I'm kind of trying to do homework here," I cut him off, but I knew he would probably keep going, anyway. He did.

"Just think about it. These fictional characters, growing up and getting old just like real people. They would have to spend the rest of their lives remembering that one crazy, fantastic thing that happened to them. And isn't that really f***ing depressing? They would have to go on thinking, 'Wow, that amazing, exciting thing happened to me, and nothing like that is ever going to happen again. For the rest of my life I'm just going to be completely normal.'"

I picked up my pencil again, twirled it between my fingers, but I couldn't concentrate on the notes I was taking anymore. "Sure, Noah. I get what you mean. But ... I don't know. I guess if something like that had happened to you, you wouldn't want to go back to it. I'd think it'd be kind of traumatizing. Like, those Lord of the Flies kids you mentioned. Why would they want to go back to that?"

"I don't know. It was just an example."

After that, I think he finally shut up about the subject. I went back to my homework and he went back to his, and we just moved on with our lives as usual. Soon, I wouldn't even think about that question until months later.

And now, as I'm sitting here, I can't get that question out of my mind. I keep replaying those words Noah said, and it's like this invisible knife digging its way between my ribs. When he first said it, it meant nothing to me. But now, it terrifies me to death.

Because suddenly, I'm that character. I'm a fictional person in my own story. I'm an average teenage kid who had nothing interesting going on in his life––and then, one summer, that all briefly changed. For a few insane, glorious, gut-wrenching, horrifying, violent weeks, it changed. And then it just went back to normal.

Honestly, I don't know how I'm going to move on from it. I don't know how to make sense of it all. I don't know how to sew together all the random pieces and make it into something whole and understandable. But, I'm going to try.

So, here it is. Here's the story of me ... Jesse Lander, a boring kid with one exciting story. It's the only story he has to tell, and maybe it'll be the only one he ever does tell. But, that’s better than nothing, right?

And it’s the story of last summer, almost exactly a year ago, when I met the Wilds.


message 9: by Kriss (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Okay, here's a bit from my first chapter. I apologize for any typos or whatever. Also, I'll try to censor out the swearing, but here's a warning in case I miss some ... I'm kind of a potty mouth:

..."


Ahhhh your writing always gives me chills, Brigid <3 Seriously loved it.


message 10: by Holden (new)

Holden (raphael_hythloday) Just wrote four pages and realized they add nothing of value to the plot outside of some minor stair comedy and a brief ode to a trumpet metaophor. CURSES.

Oh well. I'll make it work. xD

"Trumpets again heralded my arrival at Mr. Martin’s house the next afternoon. Is that really the doorbell? I wondered. It seemed a strange choice, but after the crazy car trip of my last visit I would have definitely not put it past Mr. Martin. Then again, perhaps my arrival simply overlapped with Mr. Martin’s practice time—after all, who would care enough about their guests to greet every one as if they were some royal figure arriving back at the palace?
Whatever the case, after the fanfare had ended the door flew open. “Hey, buddy!” exclaimed Mr. Martin, “Just the guy I was hoping to see. Come on in!” I hesitated for a moment on the threshold. Mr. Martin noticed and laughed. He placed his hand on my shoulder and led me into the house. “Nothing to be afraid of here!” He laughed again.
These past few days I’d been meeting a lot of people who could be described as nothing more than “chronic laughers”. Lynn, or Mr. Martin, or even Avalyn couldn’t seem to say a single sentence without supporting it with a little giggle, a corny chuckle, a nervous titter. It was starting to get on my nerves—it was enough to be surrounded by constant biting chatter, but to add on top of that a constant glaze of laughter was bound to cause headaches and stress. And what would possess them to spam the world so with constant amusement? We were obviously living in very different worlds if they saw ours as one worthy of this constant amusement and joy.
“So, son, you in good shape?” Mr. Martin asked suddenly.
“Um…not really,” I replied.
“Hah! Well, you think you could help me anyway? Got some boxes here that need to go up to the ol’ office. I would carry them myself but, you know.” And cue the laughter.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Great!” Mr. Martin exclaimed, clapping his hands. “These right over here,” he said, gesturing at some tattered cardboard boxes against the wall. “Old science library downtown went under this last week. Sold the whole stash. Managed to snag a few good reads.”
Grunting, he bent over and picked up one of the boxes, and handed it to me. “Thanks, son,” he said, dropping the load into my outstretched arms. The weight was startling, and I let out an involuntary cry. This evoked another round of laughter from Mr. Martin. “A little heavy?” he asked.
Groaning with effort, I struggled to keep ahold of the box as I followed him towards the staircase. I hesitated a bit when I saw the staircase. Surely they were just for show; it wasn’t possible that anyone actually used them. They twisted almost straight up, like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap, with steps about as wide as my hand. “Up those?” I asked.
In answer, Mr. Martin began to carelessly traipse up the stairs, each one creaking under its almost-terminal load.
I took a deep breath and followed. And between some miraculous combination of my intricate balancing act and the kindness of the fates, we made it up to the second floor.
Mr. Martin motioned me into a room.
“Just set them down here,” he said, dropping his box in the middle of the floor. I dropped mine on next to it with a grateful sigh. When it landed on the floor, a puff of dust floated up into the air, like a miniature mushroom cloud of snow.
Mr. Martin’s office was utilitarian at best, thankfully free of any plague of fruits or cats. There was a wooden, dusty desk with a weathered folding chair behind it. Faded textbooks and yellowed papers hung off a rickety metal shelf against the back wall, like so many dying branches off an elderly tree. Anything that wouldn’t fit on the shelves was scattered around the room in seemingly random stacks. There were no windows, only a boarded up fireplace against the right-hand wall. A fluorescent bulb dangled from the ceiling, emitting a harsh white light.
“Thanks, buddy,” Mr. Martin said, crouching down to open the boxes. “I’ll just be a moment here, I wanna get some of these unpacked.”
I leaned awkwardly against the wall; any actual tutoring was delayed again.
“Haha, here it is!” he said, pulling the first book out of the box, and going over to sit at his desk. He flipped through the book, smiling. “My baby. Deceiving the Brain, by Dr. Theodore Martin. Sold over a thousand copies of this masterpiece! Lost my own copy a while back, you have no idea how excited I was to see this, I mean, you know!” Suddenly in midst of his ensuing laughter he tossed the hefty book at me (“Here, check it out!”), and I yelped in surprise, just managing to avoid the dangerous projectile. Ignoring his now red-faced laughter, I picked up the book and leafed through the pages. I was immediately bombarded with intimidating math problems, complex diagrams, and 10-syllable unpronounceable words. My eyes wide, I set Deceiving the Brain back down on the dusty floor.
Suddenly the door swung open, and Avalyn letting the door drag her into the room. “So Uncle Ted,” she said, “You know how you said I could go down to the movie—oh.” She noticed me. “Hey,” she said, letting go of the door and standing solemnly at the entrance to the room.
“Hey,” said Mr. Martin, “Why so quiet?”
We answered with silence. A mosquito buzzed around the light bulb.
“Oh, come on,” he continued. “Don’t be scared of Eric, Avalyn, you met him yesterday, he’s a nice kid. Right, Eric?”
Silence filled the room again. The mosquito seemed to finally figure out that he wasn’t going to get anything from the light bulb, and he buzzed off towards the collapsing shelves.
Mr. Martin sighed. “Fine, Avalyn. You’re asking about the movie theatre, right? Weren’t you just there the other day?”
“Yeah, but…,” she said tracing a pattern in the dust with her flip-flop, “Now it’s…today…and…” She trailed off.
After a moment Mr. Martin chuckled. “Oh, fine, hon,” he said, smiling. Groaning, he stood up from the desk and checked his wallet for cash. “Let’s go! Eric, you mind?”
Laughing, he put his hand on Avalyn’s shoulder, and she leaned into him. They left the room without waiting for my answer. Shrugging, I followed them. I had nothing else to do. It was time for another road trip."


message 11: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Kriss wrote: "Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Okay, here's a bit from my first chapter. I apologize for any typos or whatever. Also, I'll try to censor out the swearing, but here's a warning in case I miss s..."

D'aww, thanks Kriss dear.


message 12: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Holden wrote: "Just wrote four pages and realized they add nothing of value to the plot outside of some minor stair comedy and a brief ode to a trumpet metaophor. CURSES.

Oh well. I'll make it work. xD

"Trum..."


Haha, awesome! I like the thing about the chronic laughter. XD


message 13: by [deleted user] (last edited Nov 01, 2012 09:25PM) (new)

This is how my main character and her love interest meet. I'm actually rather proud of most of this, but it does have its errors, so be gentle. :)

The ebb and flow of customers is exhausting. My parents always called me a social butterfly, and it's sort of true, but it's different when you have to make a conscious effort to be kind to everyone and reciprocation from the other party is minimal. You can only say “What can I get for you today?” so many times and retain genuine enthusiasm. It might take a few hours before I can get my personality back to functional.

It's Tuesday, so I have class at the community college tonight. I pull my car keys out of my purse once my shift ends and head for the door. But then I have a thought. Leaving the employee area behind, I begin browsing the books. It takes me a while to find the book I'm looking for because I always forget the author's name. Strolling between the aisles, I spot the only copy of my target a few feet away and pull it off the shelf. I open The Blue Future, by Corinne Yates and begin to leaf through the pages when I hear footsteps behind me.

The footsteps belong to a guy who looks around my age. He has dark hair that can't seem to make up its mind on wavy or straight, and olive skin. His gaze lingers on the book I'm holding for a few seconds, and then he notices me looking and stares intently at the shelf I got it from instead.
Oops, I realize. “Sorry, did you want this one?”

“Uh...” His eyes flick back and forth, and he clears his throat and breaks out into a sheepish grin. There's my answer. “Well, yeah, but no, it's fine.”

“You can take it,” I tell him. “I've actually read this before.”

He hesitates. ”Are you sure?” he asks.

I laugh, holding the book out. “I'm not lying, I promise. It's a good book. Take it.”

It takes a second, but he gives in. “Sorry about that. Thanks.” He smiles, still appearing rather embarrassed, and takes the book.

“You're welcome.”

I have no idea how to prolong the conversation, and he's already started walking away, so it doesn't matter much. Why are so many people interested in this book all of a sudden? Is it a required read for college? Did Corinne Yates go on a book-signing tour and more importantly
did I miss it?

Then, as I'm walking out of the Running Brooks Book Store, I see a sign on our community bulletin board:

DISCUSS OCTOBER'S GROUP READ
THE BLUE FUTURE, BY CORINNE YATES
WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 2ND @ 3 P.M.
RUNNING BROOKS BOOK STORE
2ND CONFERENCE ROOM ON THE WEST SIDE



message 14: by Kriss (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
Maxy wrote: "This is how my main character and her love interest meet. I'm actually rather proud of most of this, but it does have its errors, so be gentle. :)

The ebb and flow of customers is exhausting. My p..."


Oh, cuteness! I like it!


message 15: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Maxy wrote: "This is how my main character and her love interest meet. I'm actually rather proud of most of this, but it does have its errors, so be gentle. :)

The ebb and flow of customers is exhausting. My p..."


Aww, sweet. <3


message 16: by Jayda (new)

Jayda | 2760 comments Welp... this isn't MEANT to be a sex scene, or even a fade-to-black scene, but if you were to read this, what would you think? Because after this it skips forward to them leaving.

***

“I can’t believe it’s been so long,” I said, running my fingers along his jaw. I had memorized every part of his face, and I would never forget it.

“Eight years, almost to the day,” he said with a smile. Then turning to me he put his hands on my cheek and gently kissed me. Fire coursed through my veins and I could see all of our wonderful memories flashing before my closed eyes as I kissed him back, more fervently than before. This was the last time we would see each other for a short while. I wanted to make it count.

“I love you,” I whispered against his lips as he wrapped his arms around me.

“I love you too,” he said, deepening our kisses and slipping his hair into my long, dark red hair. Our names, hilariously enough, went together - Ember and Ash - and when we were together, when we held hands or kissed, it was always fire that we felt, always fire in our veins and in our hearts, a deep passion that would never burn away. I let my fingers trail along his back, feeling his strong muscles from all of the magic training he went through every day. I loved everything about him.

As our kisses became more passionate and deep my mind left packing, and the difficult task at hand, and I knew that I could finish getting my things together later. After all, Ash was more important to me. His fingers grazed my back and I shivered. Emotions enhanced, our love burning in our stomachs, we knew each other with a deepness that no one could ever understand. I loved him more than I could explain in words. The only way I could explain it was through my kisses and touches. And so I did.


message 17: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Jayda wrote: "Welp... this isn't MEANT to be a sex scene, or even a fade-to-black scene, but if you were to read this, what would you think? Because after this it skips forward to them leaving.

***

“I can’t be..."


Oooh awesome. And hmm I don't know ... I probably wouldn't assume they'd had sex. I tend not to unless they, you know, fall on a bed or something. XD


message 18: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Yaaaay some crazy family shenanigans:


“Home, sweet home,” my mom said, following after my dad.

“Yup,” I muttered. But part of me already wanted to crawl back into the car and go back to school.

I stood behind my parents on the front steps, as my dad unlocked the door. I held my breath … Here came the craziness.

The door opened, and Penny was already standing there, flapping her arms frantically. “Ahhh thank God you’re here! Cody keeps having explosive diarrhea all over himself … He’s in the bath right now. But oh my God, it’s disgusting. And no one else has been helping me … It’s a nightmare.”

“Oh, no. I’m sorry, pumpkin.” My mom hugged Penny and kissed her on top of the head. “I’ll go check on Cody. Thank you so much for helping.” She walked toward the bathroom.

Penny crossed her arms. “You should pay me for this.”

My dad walked past her, patting her on the head. “Maybe later.”

“Hi to you, too,” I said.

"Jesse!" Penny exclaimed, like she hadn't already noticed me standing there. She pounced on me and squeezed me tightly. I weakly returned her hug, patting her on the back. "I missed you, you big piece of turd cake."

"Gosh, Penny. Where'd you learn to talk like that?"

"From the Internet."

"I think you got taller," I said, as she stepped away from me again. It was true. She was almost as tall as I was.

"Did I?" She looked down at her feet, as if to see if they had gotten any farther away from her. Then she looked me up and down. "Hmm. Yeah, maybe I did."

"JESSE!" a smaller voice screamed, and suddenly three tiny girls were barreling into me––Louisa, Noreen, and Emilia. I found myself with three pairs of arms now clamped around me––Louisa's and Noreen's around my waist, and Emilia's just around my knees.

"Hi, guys." I patted Louisa's blond head and Noreen's dark brown head. I couldn't reach Emilia's head at the moment because my other two sisters were in the way.

"We missed you!" said Louisa, springing away from me again.

"I missed you, too."

Louisa pulled on my hand. "You should go to the kitchen! I want you to see my drawings."

"Um, okay. But, I should probably be getting my stuff out of the car..."

"Nooo, come on!"

"Okay, guess I'm going to the kitchen."

“Have fun,” said Penny. I glared at her as I was unwillingly dragged away.

The kitchen looked like a rainbow hurricane had hit it or something. Crayons and markers were scattered all over the floor, and a mosaic of drawings lay underneath them––mostly drawings of things like unicorns and fairy princesses.

“Gosh, Louisa. Have you been drawing all day?”

“Yup. Look at this one! It’s my favorite.” She held up a drawing of what looked like a princess in a pink dress, riding on a unicorn with a rainbow coming out its butt. And then something orange was pouring out of the unicorn’s mouth.

“Uh, what’s that?” I asked, pointing to the orange stuff.

“Fire,” Louisa said proudly.

“Oh, sweet. A fire-breathing unicorn.”

Noreen tugged on my arm. “Jesse, Jesse! Mommy and Daddy said that we might get a guinea pig!”

“Did they really?” I couldn’t imagine why my parents would want yet another creature to take care of in this house, but it was their decision of course.

“Yeah! Not until we come back from vacation, though. I’m going to name it Kiki, I think.”

“What if it’s a boy guinea pig?”

Noreen was silent, as if the idea hadn’t even occurred to her. “I’ll just pretend it’s a girl,” she said, and turned and ran from the room.

“Fair enough,” I muttered.

“Emilia, no!” Louisa screeched, and pounced on our five-year-old sister, who was chewing on a red marker. Louisa snatched it. “Don’t eat markers, stupid. Look, you ruined it!”

Emilia frowned, her mouth and chin now smudged with red. She looked like she had just eaten someone or something. “It smells like a strawberry,” she said, as if that was a good excuse for trying to eat the marker.

“Yeah, well. It doesn’t taste like a strawberry. And now I can’t use it anymore because you chewed the top off.”

Emilia burst into tears, got up, and stumbled out of the kitchen.

“Why does she have to be so dumb?” Louisa growled, still staring at the decapitated marker.

“She’s only five years old, Louisa. Gosh.”

“Well, she should know not to eat markers. Everyone knows that.”

I sighed, deciding to let the argument drop. It wasn’t easy trying to reason with third-graders.


message 19: by Kriss (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
Jayda wrote: "Welp... this isn't MEANT to be a sex scene, or even a fade-to-black scene, but if you were to read this, what would you think? Because after this it skips forward to them leaving.

***

“I can’t be..."


I wouldn't assume so, either.


message 20: by Kriss (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Yaaaay some crazy family shenanigans:


“Home, sweet home,” my mom said, following after my dad.

“Yup,” I muttered. But part of me already wanted to crawl back into the car and go back to school.
..."


Oh my god. This poor kid. Definitely crazyyyy.


message 21: by Kriss (last edited Nov 02, 2012 08:32AM) (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
One of the only scenes I like so far, out of my book. Fail on my part, but. OH. There are also a lot of swear words. Sorry about that:

“I can’t believe he told you to get out of his room again,” Maggie informed me. She looked exhausted, and I felt terrible—absolutely terrible—for being there at her apartment. I was in pajamas, sitting on the floor of her bathroom as she washed her face and brushed her teeth. It was the only place I had to go, considering I wasn’t going to stay with Ray, not when he wouldn’t even let me sleep in our bed. I leaned my head against the cabinet, feeling my vision swarm a little, both with tears and exhaustion. Five in the morning was the most ungodly hour I knew about, but the night kept slipping away, right through my fingers.

“I know. I feel terrible, though. I mean. I forgot that tonight was the night he was planning to do one of those date things of his. I’ve been planning to go to Bensonhurst for how long, Maggie? Like, a week now. What does he not get about me needing to see my family?”

Maggie shrugged. I watched her for a moment, the tightness in her shoulders and her mouth. She didn’t look just tired. She looked angry.

“What’s wrong, Mags?”

She turned to look at me, her eyes so blue it hurt. She pinned me with her gaze. “Come on, Norah. Do you really want to marry a man who tells you to get out of your room? He could remind you about stuff like that, or at least listen to you when you tell him you’re going somewhere. And I think he does. I just… I don’t know. I feel like he doesn’t like that side of you.”

I wanted to be angry at her for saying that—and I was, just because I had thought it before, and continuously felt like bad person afterward. I loved Ray. We might have some issues, but they weren’t… they weren’t major. Every couple fought. It wasn’t weird. But Maggie looked angrier than I had seen her in a long time. She started to leave the bathroom, and I followed her, to sit on the corner of her bed.

I had always loved her room. It was painted this color of orange that, when the light hit it in the afternoon, looked alive. Now, though, it was somber. “Norah, how many times has he gone to Thanksgiving at your mother’s house? Or Christmas? You guys have been together for four years, and he’s gone once, and left right afterward. When was the last time he let you talk to Jonathan?”

I opened my mouth to say something, to defend myself or Ray, but then I closed it. She had a point, and that’s why I had wanted to talk to her to begin with—but I didn’t like hearing the truth, not right now, even if that sounded ignorant to my own years. For a second, I disgusted myself. How could I be happy with that? “I talked to him last week.”

Maggie raised a single eyebrow, now, something that she could do and I had always admired, simply because I couldn’t. “But did Ray know about it?”

“No.”

“Norah, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do these fucking phone calls, when you’re fiancé isn’t home. You know how I feel about you.”

“You’re my best friend."

“No, I’m not. I used to be, but not anymore. You talk to me because you miss me, but you’re different and so am I, and I don’t want to lie to you, and I don’t want to talk about nothing, and I don’t want you to have to sneak away to call me.”


The tears were in my eyes. A five minute conversation, I thought. A five minute conversation, and it was the end of a friendship. I wished, then, that Jonny was there. Maggie saw the tears in my eyes, and she sat beside me.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, Norah—“

I know. It’s not you. That’s what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. For the second time that night, I was choking on my words.

“Norah, don’t cry—God, please don’t. It’s okay. I’m sure you and Ray will work things out.” She reached out to embrace me, and all I wanted to say was, I’m not crying about Ray. I’m not crying about Ray. I’m not. I’m crying about someone else.

I can’t do this anymore
, he had said.


message 22: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Kriss wrote: "Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Yaaaay some crazy family shenanigans:


“Home, sweet home,” my mom said, following after my dad.

“Yup,” I muttered. But part of me already wanted to crawl back ..."


Totally not based on my life. Haha yes it is.


message 23: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Kriss wrote: "One of the only scenes I like so far, out of my book. Fail on my part, but. OH. There are also a lot of swear words. Sorry about that:

“I can’t believe he told you to get out of his room again,” M..."


Ahhh, beautiful. I love it. <3


message 24: by Jayda (new)

Jayda | 2760 comments Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Jayda wrote: "Welp... this isn't MEANT to be a sex scene, or even a fade-to-black scene, but if you were to read this, what would you think? Because after this it skips forward to them leaving.

**..."


Kriss wrote: "Jayda wrote: "Welp... this isn't MEANT to be a sex scene, or even a fade-to-black scene, but if you were to read this, what would you think? Because after this it skips forward to them leaving.

**..."


Yay! Okay good. I was worried about that haha :)


message 25: by Jayda (new)

Jayda | 2760 comments All of you guys are so fantastic!!!!!!! <3


message 26: by Kriss (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
Ahah! I have a prologue now!

5 years earlier.

I wasn’t sure which way was which anymore. My vision was blurring, and sweat ran into my eyes. There was a cut just above my left brow. Blood ran down my face.

It hurt. It hurt so fiercely I was uncertain of what to do. He swayed in front of me, looking arrogant, a curl to his lip, a predator. He was going to win. He was going to win. I had made it this far, and he was going to win. I had worked so hard for so long, and it was going to be for nothing. Nothing. Desolation overtook me; something raw and primal was ripped open. I felt... numb to it.

He walked around me, a light-footed circle, reading to lunge away if I decided to get brave and lash out. I didn’t. He completed the circle, jabbing me occasionally with a fist, but I stood stock-still. The crowd was roaring and cameras were flashing like the lights in a club. I heard someone saying, in the background, “I told you he wouldn’t win.”

La Grua struck out at me. I stumbled, pain bursting in my shoulder, and a second later, in my face. No.

He aimed to hit me a third time, but I blocked him, and stepped in so close I could feel his breath on my face. There was momentary surprise, and then amusement, and then I hit him, hard, in the ribs. He gasped for breath. Fury overtook humor; he lashed out. I ducked under his blow, and acted instinctively. Each movement was liquid, effortless. I heard my fist hit his face more than I felt it.

He stumbled, but I didn’t stop. I bore my shoulder into his chest, and now he fell. We both hit the ground, a mass of limbs. He raised his forearms to protect his face, but I straddled his waist and hit him repetitively. One blow after the other, controlled and deliberate. I would never forget it, what it was like to have that much power for so long. It was enthralling. He was mine, struggling to get up, to hit me, but he couldn’t. I was invincible.

The crowd was screaming. They thought I wouldn’t stop. They had seen enough fights to know that sometimes the fighters didn’t. But I stood up when someone told me too; I don’t know who it was, but I did anyway, swaying on my feet. I felt numb, beyond pain. Like I was floating. La Grua was on the concrete floor, moaning, his blood staining the ground.

Someone stepped into the Ring. He approached cautiously, eyeing me like I was a wild thing. He reached out and raised my arm.

“Kozlov! Kozlov wins!”

I lost myself to the sound of the cheers—they became a part of me.

*****

“Mikey! Jesus Christ!” Richie grabbed me by the neck and kissed my forehead.

I was still swaying, but now it was with a smile. Some pretty little girl, chewing gum, had bandaged my brow and the cuts on my chest. Fuckin La Grua. He’d worn these rings that cut when he hit.

I remembered the long strands of her hair in the dim light of the warehouse, the way she had smelled sweet compared to the sweat and blood of the Ring. Like life. Like another chance.

Richie sat me in a chair, and I went along with it. A second later, a glass was placed in front of me, brimming with whiskey and coke.

“To you,” he said, raising his own. “The best damn fighter I’ve ever seen.”

“To me,” I repeated, raising my glass as well, and a smile slid from my face, slick as oil on water.

They had warned me, I thought. They had warned me, when Richie had picked me up off the street, they had warned me. Every damn one of them.

They had all said the same thing.

When you join the Ring, you sign in blood.


message 27: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Kriss wrote: "Ahah! I have a prologue now!

5 years earlier.

I wasn’t sure which way was which anymore. My vision was blurring, and sweat ran into my eyes. There was a cut just above my left brow. Blood ran do..."


HOLY TALKING MUSHROOMS THAT IS FANTASTIC.


message 28: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
And now something fun, that includes a discussion about poop. HOORAY!

-----

It was probably only an hour or so later, when the inevitable happened.

"Daddy?" Emilia said.

"What is it, honey?"

"Daddy, I have to go pee."

My dad sighed. "Really, Emilia?"

"Yeah. I need to go really bad."

"Really badly," I corrected.

"Shut up, Jesse," Penny said.

My dad muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, "For f***'s sake." I might have heard him incorrectly, though. And even if he did say it, it wasn't loud enough for Emilia to hear ... hopefully.

"Okay. We'll try to find a place soon. There's a gas station coming up, I think."

We stopped at a gas station a few minutes later, probably all of us simultaneously praying that Emilia wasn't about to wet her pants––or, God forbid, that she already had. But she was still kicking and whining in the back seat, so I took that to mean that she was still holding it in.

"Okay. Let's go, go, go," Dad said, getting out of the car. He ran around the car to open the back door. "Kurt, come on. Help her get unbuckled."

"I'm trying! Just a second."

A few agonizing moments later, Emilia was free from her seat and was leaping out onto the pavement. Dad grabbed her hand, and they dashed off towards the nearby bathroom.

"Ugh, gas station bathrooms," said Penelope, watching after them.

"Nasty," I agreed.

"One time, I was in a gas station bathroom––it might have been this one, even. And there was a whole poop on the floor."

"Really? A whole poop?"

"Yeah, and there were flies buzzing all over it."

"Why would someone poop on the floor?" Kurt said. "I mean, could someone seriously miss the toilet like that? It's not that hard."

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe they were super drunk or something. Or, I don't know, it was a bet and they were getting twenty dollars out of it."

"You couldn't pay me twenty dollars to poop on a bathroom floor," said Kurt.

"I might do it for fifty," Penny said, after thinking about it for a few seconds.

"Fifty? I think you'd have to pay me at least a hundred."

"Guys," Kurt said. "Can we stop this conversation, please?"

"Poop," said Penelope. "Poop poop poop."

"Poopity poop," I added.

Kurt groaned and sat back in his seat. "I don't know how I'm related to you two."

"Well you see," said Penny. "One day, Mommy and Daddy got very excited ..."

"SHUT UP."

"Penny's just kidding," I said. "Everyone knows that babies all come from the stork."

And the conversation continued in this manner for the next few minutes, before our dad and Emilia emerged from the bathroom. Dad helped Emilia get back into her seat, and Kurt had to buckle her in again.

Dad got back behind the wheel, and shut the door next to him. "That was disgusting."

"Was there an entire poop on the floor?" Penny asked.

"Uh, no. But, there might as well have been just from the smell. ... Now, before we leave, does anyone else have to go?"

"No," Penny, Kurt, and I chorused.

"Okay, just making sure. Here we go again."


message 29: by [deleted user] (new)

Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "And now something fun, that includes a discussion about poop. HOORAY!

-----

It was probably only an hour or so later, when the inevitable happened.

"Daddy?" Emilia said.

"What is it, honey?"

"..."


Lawlz.


message 30: by Kriss (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "And now something fun, that includes a discussion about poop. HOORAY!

-----

It was probably only an hour or so later, when the inevitable happened.

"Daddy?" Emilia said.

"What is it, honey?"

"..."


I am unbelievably amused. ME GUSTA.


message 31: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Haha yaaay. Thanks. XD


message 32: by Colby (new)

Colby (Colbz) | 3211 comments I have told Benton everything I could think to tell him about home. About how Branson is still Tourist Hell, the blind neighbor’s dog still yips incessantly, and the strip still gets flooded with cars. He asks me if I’m dating Jenna yet, and I laugh and tell him that no, this hasn’t happened yet. There is a light in his eyes when he laughs, and I like that.
Patricia comes into the room after having given us time to talk.
“Ms. Matthews? If you will follow me, the psychiatrist would like to talk to you.”
Benton’s face drops a bit as mom leaves the room.
“What do you figure that’s about?” I ask Benton.
“They want to see what my home life is really like. They’re going to try to find out that, like, dad raped me or mom locked me in the closet for hours as a kid or something. Some reason for me to be depressed that’s tangible.”
“Hey Benton?” I ask. “Why are you depressed?” I figure I might as well try to get my own questions answered.
“I’m not depressed,” Benton says. “I’m just fucking tired.”


My NaNo is called Miles to You.


message 33: by Kriss (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
Colby wrote: " I have told Benton everything I could think to tell him about home. About how Branson is still Tourist Hell, the blind neighbor’s dog still yips incessantly, and the strip still gets flooded with ..."

I really like that last line right there. Very nice.


message 34: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Ahhh, me too. Awesome.


message 35: by Manfred (new)

Manfred Matela (MrSpoon) | 23 comments My NaNo's a sci-fi story called Horizon Blue, here's an excerpt from the second chapter:

Everything had been going well until five years ago, when a faulty android's circuits were blown. It murdered my uncle, ripped his throat open from one ear to the other. I didn't see the scene by myself, but the reports I had read mentioned that the android had actually torn its own arm off and stabbed him with its skeleton. I vomited after I read that. Nothing had ever made me feel as sick as that report. To think that a great man like him would meet his end by a broken robot, it's really an absurd thought. I know I'd hate to die like that. The scariest part of it is that this could happen again, to any one of those things, at any time. I wouldn't trust any of them even if my life depended on it, not after that. If it's one thing I've really learned from that event, it's that artificial intelligence cannot be trusted, and anyone who puts their trust in machines like those is a fool.
Now that I'm twenty-five years old, I've been promoted to an assistant navigator, just like my uncle. I've completed what I came here to do, through hard work, tears and sweat. This is all I ever really wanted, to become a navigator, to have control of and tame these levaithans. Nowadays I work in the navigation center during the days, it's good work and I enjoy doing it more than anything else. If only uncle could see me now.


message 36: by Colby (new)

Colby (Colbz) | 3211 comments Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Ahhh, me too. Awesome."

Kriss wrote: "Colby wrote: " I have told Benton everything I could think to tell him about home. About how Branson is still Tourist Hell, the blind neighbor’s dog still yips incessantly, and the strip still gets..."

Thanks, guys. You rock.


message 37: by Muse (new)

Muse | 4458 comments Colby wrote: " I have told Benton everything I could think to tell him about home. About how Branson is still Tourist Hell, the blind neighbor’s dog still yips incessantly, and the strip still gets flooded with ..."

Ahhh. That's fantastic. I hate you.


message 38: by Muse (new)

Muse | 4458 comments Kriss wrote: "Ahah! I have a prologue now!

5 years earlier.

I wasn’t sure which way was which anymore. My vision was blurring, and sweat ran into my eyes. There was a cut just above my left brow. Blood ran do..."


Oh my goodness Kriss.:o


message 39: by Picture (new)

Picture  Perfect (picturesperfect) | 312 comments Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Okay, here's a bit from my first chapter. I apologize for any typos or whatever. Also, I'll try to censor out the swearing, but here's a warning in case I miss some ... I'm kind of a potty mouth:

..."


What a novel idea! Love it!

Please laugh at my pun. I am sad and pathetic, and I'm still haven't reach 5,000 words.


message 40: by Picture (new)

Picture  Perfect (picturesperfect) | 312 comments Since I feel insecure over my writing still, I'm just going to post my premise. The novel (well...not yet) is called Arlyn.

Here it is:

When the heir to the throne becomes eighteen years old, there is supposed to be celebration. In Arlyn, a faraway kingdom, there is only silence. He wasn't supposed to live that long.

Since she was five, Flora knew that she would be a maid. But who could have predicted the misfortune of falling in love with a guy who isn't supposed to be alive. It was more than just mad. Fate worked in mind-boggling ways and made the poor choice of choosing Kane, the prince who could die any day, as the love of her life. Talk about making a poor casting choice in her life play.

While the kingdom is grappling with issue of succession, 17-teen-year-old Dylan is in his faction, his home, Iman. "Iman: the place where dreams come true." That was the slogan, printed on the tourist brochure. But for Dylan, life was anything but a dream. It was a cold reality. Imagine having to care for a mentally disabled mother. Throw in five siblings. Now, there was more than a problem. Dylan was in need of that wish, so when Elaine, a legendary woman, knocked on his door, Dylan was more than pleased. He was hoping his life would start to switch direction.

Arlyn used to be nicknamed the magical kingdom. There was supposed to be no darkness in Arlyn. But times are changing. For Flora and Dylan, time is running out. There was supposed to be no darkness in Arlyn.


message 41: by Muse (new)

Muse | 4458 comments Picture wrote: "Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Okay, here's a bit from my first chapter. I apologize for any typos or whatever. Also, I'll try to censor out the swearing, but here's a warning in case I miss s..."

I would high five you, but I just noticed that I surpassed 5k. Woohoo!:D


message 42: by Muse (new)

Muse | 4458 comments Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "And now something fun, that includes a discussion about poop. HOORAY!

-----

It was probably only an hour or so later, when the inevitable happened.

"Daddy?" Emilia said.

"What is it, honey?"

"..."


LOLOL.xD


message 43: by Muse (new)

Muse | 4458 comments Picture wrote: "Since I feel insecure over my writing still, I'm just going to post my premise. The novel (well...not yet) is called Arlyn.

Here it is:

When the heir to the throne becomes eighteen years old, th..."


Sounds intense. I would love to read it!:D


message 44: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
Picture wrote: "Since I feel insecure over my writing still, I'm just going to post my premise. The novel (well...not yet) is called Arlyn.

Here it is:

When the heir to the throne becomes eighteen years old, th..."


PICTURRREEE. HIIII.

Also, that sounds really cool. XD


message 45: by Picture (new)

Picture  Perfect (picturesperfect) | 312 comments Yue [Wonder of living] wrote: "Picture wrote: "Since I feel insecure over my writing still, I'm just going to post my premise. The novel (well...not yet) is called Arlyn.

Here it is:

When the heir to the throne becomes eight..."




*gives you a great big bear hug* *eats your face* Thanks!


message 46: by Picture (new)

Picture  Perfect (picturesperfect) | 312 comments Yue [Wonder of living] wrote: "Picture wrote: "Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Okay, here's a bit from my first chapter. I apologize for any typos or whatever. Also, I'll try to censor out the swearing, but here's a warning..."

I did too, okay? I just did... :)


message 47: by Picture (new)

Picture  Perfect (picturesperfect) | 312 comments Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Picture wrote: "Since I feel insecure over my writing still, I'm just going to post my premise. The novel (well...not yet) is called Arlyn.

Here it is:

When the heir to the throne becomes eight..."


HIIIIIIIIIIIIII! I haven't talked you in a long time. Sorry about that. I've been busy.

Thanks. This has helped my self-esteem a lot more. Thanks for that guys. Like seriously, it's taking a lot of energy to not try to quit like I did last year. I'm so stressed out with activities and school still. But you know, YOLO. OHMAGURD! Why did I just say that????


message 48: by Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩, No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. (new)

Brigid ✩ Cool Ninja Sharpshooter ✩ | 11973 comments Mod
You can do it, Picture! Don't give up! :D


message 49: by Muse (new)

Muse | 4458 comments Picture wrote: "Yue [Wonder of living] wrote: "Picture wrote: "Brigid *Flying Kick-a-pow!* wrote: "Okay, here's a bit from my first chapter. I apologize for any typos or whatever. Also, I'll try to censor out the..."

Woohoo!:D


message 50: by Kriss (new)

Kriss (Krisslee) | 5012 comments Mod
Picture wrote: "Since I feel insecure over my writing still, I'm just going to post my premise. The novel (well...not yet) is called Arlyn.

Here it is:

When the heir to the throne becomes eighteen years old, th..."


It sounds very interesting! I like the smooth way it flows, too <3


« previous 1 3
back to top
This topic has been frozen by the moderator. No new comments can be posted.