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Thiestru
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Oct 09, 2008 9:18 am
Posts: 1736
Location: United States
PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 7:44 pm 
 

This thread is for all MA members who write stories, lyrics, or poetry to share their works. If the moderators or administrators feel that this is too narrow a topic to warrant its own thread, feel free to lock it, merge it with the Literature thread, or whatever.

For the past couple of years I've been working on and off on a children's story, based on a story I wrote when I was about five years old. It was called 'How the Werewolf Got His Howl', and was a very short, comic tale of a little boy, his grandmother, and a werewolf. For some reason I've always remembered this story, though I never imagined it would remain anything but an amusing memory. I told a friend about it one day, who is a writer himself, and he suggested that I bring it back and flesh it out. So I did, not really expecting it to turn into something I'd not only stick with but even become very passionate and serious about. But as a matter of fact, it's looking like it might not just be a short story, but even a novella. I intend to publish it when it's done; I'm very proud of it. It's still far from complete though, and I'm taking my time with it. I'm not going to post any of it here yet, until I see if this thread takes off; also I need to build up the courage to show it to you fine folks, as I know how critical this audience can be. :p

With that, feel free to share your stuff here and give your feedback. Happy writing!
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Zelkiiro
Pounding the world with a fish of steel

Joined: Sat Apr 18, 2009 5:30 pm
Posts: 5493
Location: Pennsylvania
PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 8:21 pm 
 

I've been brainstorming up a novel very sporadically these past few months. It's a swords-'n-sorcery fantasy story about a girl who, at a young age, lost her village and very nearly her own life when a demon ravaged the entire town and killed everyone in it. As she lay dying, she begged for someone to save her and, as fate would have it, the first being to answer her plea was a devil (think D&D variety--manipulative, orderly, tyrannical, etc.) So now the girl, given the name Malrissa by her new patron, is the devil's pawn in his war against the demons (again, think D&D--mindless, destructive, omnicidal, etc.) and she has to wrestle with the fact that she's technically an agent of evil while trying to be a good person while off the clock. Oh, and she's been granted tremendous powers by her overlord that, with a lot of training, have turned her into a formidable assassin. She's also largely mute, not just because her throat was torn out in the attack all those years ago, but also because these dark magic powers cause her to inflict pain and suffering on anyone she directly addresses vocally. And then our road trip and eventual cast filling-out with ensuing hijinks ensues.

Naturally, not everybody's gonna be on-board with a shady-as-fuck assassin and her devilish guardian, so conflicts will arise everywhere she goes, even though she just wants to lead a kinda-sorta normal-ish life. But hey, if that's what she was gonna have, there wouldn't be a story to be had.
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Thiestru
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Oct 09, 2008 9:18 am
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Location: United States
PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 8:47 pm 
 

That's a really cool idea for a story! I'd definitely like to read more of that. It reminds me of Steven Brust, somehow.
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BastardHead
Magic Mike

Joined: Thu Aug 18, 2005 7:53 pm
Posts: 8313
Location: Elgin, Illinois
PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 8:51 pm 
 

I always call myself a writer but in reality I have a tendency to get much too ambitious with my ideas and they all collapse in on themselves before I ever get the chance to finish anything. I get cool ideas for a simple premise or something and before I know it I have this gigantic world built up and it's just way too massive for me to ever be satisfied with actually writing so it collects dust or just never gets started in the first place. So really I have no realistic chance of finishing anything lengthy since I just don't have the discipline to sit the fuck down and write.

My secondary problem is that I'm just never satisfied with myself and judge everything I think of as unworthy or a waste of time that nobody will like anyway, so I bully myself into doing nothing with it. Like, there's a fantasy tale/saga I've been dreaming up for years that I think would be super cool to explore, but the whole base idea of it just seems too videogamey and probably wouldn't translate well to a written story so it, like everything else I do, just sits as an unfinished outline and random document of stream of consciousness ideas relating to it. Oh well, maybe when I win the lottery and have unlimited free time I'll do something with it.
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Zelkiiro
Pounding the world with a fish of steel

Joined: Sat Apr 18, 2009 5:30 pm
Posts: 5493
Location: Pennsylvania
PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 8:54 pm 
 

BastardHead wrote:
Like, there's a fantasy tale/saga I've been dreaming up for years that I think would be super cool to explore, but the whole base idea of it just seems too videogamey and probably wouldn't translate well to a written story

If schlock like Sword Art Online can be super videogamey and sell like gangbusters anyway, you won't have anything to worry about. If anything, you'd be filling a niche that people are still, to this day, clamoring to have filled. It's a fledgling fantasy subgenre, and it desperately needs quality.
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Thiestru
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Oct 09, 2008 9:18 am
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Location: United States
PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2017 11:49 pm 
 

Well, I guess I will share something I wrote a couple of nights ago. It's nothing serious, really just a Lovecraft ripoff, but I wrote it for fun. You know, these days I find that I must write something, or else the day has been wasted. It might as well never have been. In any case, this very short story doesn't have a proper name. Maybe call it 'The Being from the Outer Darkness.' Anyway, I'll share it here, just to test the waters.

Spoiler: show
From the Outer Darkness it came, and of utter darkness it was made: a creature beyond thought. Creature, I call it, but it was not so, for no one created it, least of all the Lord. It was made by and of itself, and was answerable to no one. For this was the Master of the Impenetrable Black, and none save the Uppermost Light could assail it. None created it, I have said, and yet maybe it could be said that it was created by the very making of light. Men have ever feared that monsters lurked within darkness, but few have ever scried that the Darkness itself was the thing that they feared: conscious, sapient, and powerful. But so it is, and so it has ever been.
Since the beginning, men have cast their eyes to the heavens, and at night have seen that blackness rules the skies, save for the Moon, whose light is only a reflection of the Day, and the stars, which are remote and cold. So the Master of All Darkness governs the night, and the only light prevailing therein is but a mockery of the Sun, which is but a candle of the Great Lord’s true light.
Though this thing may have arisen with the crafting of light, it was not a shadow of it. Its existence was of itself. Thus it commanded great fear and admiration in those it encountered; indeed, it inspired worship in the easily cowed. And these were many. For with such a demon, many things were easy, even the overthrow of those who were wise and good. This sentient Darkness spread far and wide, and its tendrils embraced the whole world. Thus was its power: it could be in many places at once. But not at all times. Sometimes it chose to gather itself, and marshal all its power in one place, and against one victim.
A deeper pool of darkness in a corner, or an eerie shade looming where it ought not to be: these were some symptoms that the Demon was at hand. For where he lurked he drew all shadows towards him, though they came from light, and were its subjects. Alas, their resemblance was too near to his, and like draws like, ‘tis said. However it may be, shadows grew larger in size and in fearfulness when the Master of Darkness was at hand, and the pools of shade that gather in corners got deeper and deeper. Soon, the watcher found, the pools ceased to become deeper and instead got taller, and crawled up the walls, and dimmed all the lights, and stifled the air. Indeed, the darkness seemed to replace the very air, until the onlooker was breathing it. The accompanying terror was beyond words. One felt oneself strangling, gasping for air but not finding it, choking hopelessly. Then the afflicting Darkness began to take a definite shape.
Like a giant centipede, it was, with searching antennae and groping legs. It stretched from the corner across the floor, seeking to find you and wrap you in its venomous embrace. That is, at least, according to some people. To others it looked different. None who had beheld it was untouched in mind, and so no one’s account was quite believable. At least, not in the case of the thing’s appearance. Yet I do believe that every one of them – my patients, that is – saw something, something unexplainable, and have told me honestly what they saw. Or perhaps I should say, what they perceived.
As for me? What does it matter what I think? I have never seen this thing, yet I believe that it exists. And I fear. Yes, I am very afraid. For now that I have heard of it, I fear that I am linked to it somehow. That, by knowing of it, it now knows of me, it seeks for me, searches for me, and is not far from finding me. Dammit! I’m afraid to even sleep. For darkness lurks in dreams also, and all darknesses are his spies. I cannot sleep any more. He will see me. And then – what? What will he – it – do? Not kill me, I think. Take me away – to where? To… yes. The Outer Darkness. He will drag me beyond the Light to the Outer Darkness. I will be exposed. But awake. Always awake. Always able to see and feel and hear. I cannot endure it. I will not endure it. This is the end; it must be the end. I will end it, or he will find me.
It has been several minutes since my last writing. I have taken many pills. Sleeping pills, I think; I can’t see clearly any more. It doesn’t really matter anyway. Whatever I took, the amount I took will kill me. This will be the last I write. Already I grow drowsy, and my eyelids are so heavy. I will close now.
But wait. Something strange is happening, beyond the effect of the drugs. There is a shadow in the corner; it is getting larger, although I have not changed the lights. It grows. It climbs up the walls, and now its face is on the ceiling. It leers at me. No! I am willing myself to die. I wish to die. Why don’t I? The leer is widening to a grin. There are teeth, sharp teeth, in that grin. The mouth is opening, expanding over all the ceiling. It will eat me. Why can’t I die? The toothed smile has covered the whole ceiling and is eating all the walls. This is the end. This is the end. This is the end.
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Iggnsthe
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Nov 05, 2009 6:25 pm
Posts: 444
Location: United States
PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 5:05 pm 
 

BastardHead wrote:
I always call myself a writer but in reality I have a tendency to get much too ambitious with my ideas and they all collapse in on themselves before I ever get the chance to finish anything. I get cool ideas for a simple premise or something and before I know it I have this gigantic world built up and it's just way too massive for me to ever be satisfied with actually writing so it collects dust or just never gets started in the first place. So really I have no realistic chance of finishing anything lengthy since I just don't have the discipline to sit the fuck down and write.


That sounds really frustrating... @__@ I think I have the opposite problem, I can never really expand my writing into anything like a world or even a very cohesive setting, so I mostly tend to stick with short stories (which is fine by me anyway, since I love shorter works of fiction). Do you use anything like Scrivener for organizing your worldbuilding/ideas or form an outline or anything? I haven't used any system like that personally, but some writer friends who are more seriously into it swear by it, mostly in the NaNoWriMo crowd.

I don't have much writing available, but I recently wrote this: http://laevos.com/creation/2017/04/05/degausse.html. It's, well, erotica about a CRT girl, so I'd stay clear if that's not your thing, but it's not particularly explicit for the most part (there's a full trigger/content warning on the site). It was fun to write! ^.^

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Empyreal
The Final Frontier

Joined: Thu Nov 30, 2006 6:58 pm
Posts: 24839
Location: Where the dead rule the night
PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 5:25 pm 
 

BastardHead wrote:
I always call myself a writer but in reality I have a tendency to get much too ambitious with my ideas and they all collapse in on themselves before I ever get the chance to finish anything. I get cool ideas for a simple premise or something and before I know it I have this gigantic world built up and it's just way too massive for me to ever be satisfied with actually writing so it collects dust or just never gets started in the first place. So really I have no realistic chance of finishing anything lengthy since I just don't have the discipline to sit the fuck down and write.

My secondary problem is that I'm just never satisfied with myself and judge everything I think of as unworthy or a waste of time that nobody will like anyway, so I bully myself into doing nothing with it. Like, there's a fantasy tale/saga I've been dreaming up for years that I think would be super cool to explore, but the whole base idea of it just seems too videogamey and probably wouldn't translate well to a written story so it, like everything else I do, just sits as an unfinished outline and random document of stream of consciousness ideas relating to it. Oh well, maybe when I win the lottery and have unlimited free time I'll do something with it.


A lot of people I know who say they want to write face these problems. Like anything else, it's all about practice and discipline - I usually finished the stuff I used to write, but I did have the same problem of overcluttered, ambitious plots... I've been trying to simplify as much as possible and it helps.

I've had a few stories published online lately:

The Guest in the Storm - a psychological thriller/horror about a guy who meets a strange man in a Florida tropical storm.

New House - a man unsatisfied with his marriage gets into a pickle.
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Amber Gray
Metalhead

Joined: Sat Jan 21, 2012 12:30 am
Posts: 409
PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 9:01 pm 
 

Currently writing something like a horror version of Twelve Monkeys. Non linear scenes presenting the different characters and settings and all intertwined. I'm trying to put into words the anxiety of a disrupted stage of REM sleep.

If anyone is interested, this is the last thing I finished. Little isolationist/existential narrative. It was my first stab at horror writing but I ditched those elements like halfway through.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/19le ... aVq2wQ/pub

Trying to develop further and if anyone wanted to read that'd be extra cool. . I had some notes from another friend that were really awesome
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Thiestru
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Oct 09, 2008 9:18 am
Posts: 1736
Location: United States
PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 11:08 pm 
 

What the hell, Amber Gray? That was amazing! I felt so tense the entire time I read it. Brilliant stuff.
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Anything but undying, eternal praise for Awaken the Guardian is completely wrong and a disgrace to you, your band, family, and Facebook friends list.


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Amber Gray
Metalhead

Joined: Sat Jan 21, 2012 12:30 am
Posts: 409
PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2017 11:47 pm 
 

Hey thanks. I was happy with that one. I have a little of my current horror one on google docs too but it's far from complete, and naturally very confusing as I'm only introducing each scene, but I feel like I've already accomplished two horror moments here. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1r5F ... 75u3Rg/pub

If it wasn't obvious I like to utilize disorienting repitition and slower pacing for suspense
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DecemberSoul
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Jan 21, 2010 9:46 am
Posts: 510
Location: Switzerland
PostPosted: Sat Apr 22, 2017 8:31 am 
 

I'll happily throw in two old song lyrics for my first death metal band back in '99 later this weekend, but as for now, to anyone who enjoys reading spooky stories, don't forget about those most excellent threads called "Creepiest things that have happened to you", of which there are 2 if I'm not mistaken. I've been reading those again past winter and it made for a terrific read.

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raspberrysoda
Metalhead

Joined: Sat Aug 02, 2014 4:51 pm
Posts: 647
Location: You know, that place
PostPosted: Sun Apr 23, 2017 7:21 am 
 

I write poems and songs mostly, but I haven't published them lately because the latest ones are really personal and are a pretty big deal for me. The things I've published online (poems mostly) range from black humor, short stories, parody, and stuff which is a bit angsty too. I don't write in English so it'll be kinda pointless to post anything here
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DecemberSoul
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Jan 21, 2010 9:46 am
Posts: 510
Location: Switzerland
PostPosted: Sun Apr 23, 2017 11:15 am 
 

DecemberSoul wrote:
I'll happily throw in two old song lyrics for my first death metal band back in '99 later this weekend,
and here they are:

1. Song: Totentanz

A waxen light emanates from all these dreary graves
Hear the sound of sagacious cemetery trees
Enter the derelict chapel, behold the gathered ghosts
Only in the dead of night they durst to come forth

Tombic arousal - Sacred spirits' night
Celebrating - Past the mortal fright

Cryptal moans of the interred
Uncanny altar candle lit by soulforce
Macabre deathshadows in churchy vaults
Pallid bodies far below the horizon they feast

But, alas!, lest dawn appears
Then they melt back into the landscape
Returning to their native heaths
Beneath the willows' shade


2. Song: To meet again in hell

To resign the living prematurely
To ceremonially die impiously
To brave the horrors beyond
To trespass the afterworld

To blasphemate the holy altar
To scorn the votive rites
To open veins with impetus
Held over the gory chalice

Extinguished candle of life
In defiance of procreation
A drained out carcass - all that remains

No celestial resurrection
Fearfully buried
At the side of the lichpath
Memorial cairn - saying:

'Doomed to roam this place forever'

Once you were obsessed with death
Hence of all reason bereft...


PS: Looking forward to your remarks, laughs and criticisms regarding these old lyrics, but keep in mind they were written by a teenager who had never been on the internet at that time and spent a lot of time browsing through English dictionary tomes instead.

PPS: Fun fact - our band Terrify The Mortals played these songs live in a nearby parish, of all places!

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Amber Gray
Metalhead

Joined: Sat Jan 21, 2012 12:30 am
Posts: 409
PostPosted: Sun Apr 23, 2017 6:52 pm 
 

Been living in a trailer in a storage facility outside the city limits and I totally wanna write a horror based around that whole area. The place is huge and my parents and I are alone there at night. Nearby is a small airport, a quarry, and a scrapyard. There's indoor hallways lined with doors to smaller units, with two especially bright exit signs on either side. Our trailer is parked around a bunch of long since abandoned vehicles.

If you ask me that's some good material
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niix
Metalhead

Joined: Mon Nov 23, 2009 3:48 pm
Posts: 469
Location: United States
PostPosted: Sun Apr 23, 2017 10:48 pm 
 

keep it up guys, keep writing what YOU decide, and it's all looking great in this thread.


i have several pieces, from lyrics to poems, that eventually become music i create..
i have a couple i an willing to share here.


 
Spoiler: show
  'grave  portent'
in the aura of the hour,
a glimpse would come in waves.
as aeons of dreams to pass,
none more than illumination of elusive understanding..
the formulae, the shadow.
i am every whisper,
lost in the depths of sorrow.
i am the silent voice,
watching from afar.

hearken the  dying star,
  a  distancing  secrecy.
mind  of  eternal result.

the circle, the ancient..
there is every direction,
from the  center.
implosion beneath,
the being of one..
creating a new breath,
a pulse has begun.
find a  way..
these dreams come in waves,
in a timeless  spell.
from under the lifted veil,
existing outside  the shell..
the shell of human anatomy.
inner  eye  speaks,
levitating  separation.
with the aura
of the  ancient sorrow,
a circle  of light diminishes.
becoming..
vindicated awakened  personnel.
becoming one with the star,
  gazing  from  afar.
aware..
  awake.
     'grave portent'


and


Spoiler: show
  'the surface'
fading moon..
behind the mountainside.
a darkness around,
when the sun begins to set.
the mind to wander,
within a shroud of silence.
to escape through solace,
    unto deeper   shades
of fulfilling emptiness profound.
  a darkness  surrounding,
   like  a dream.
passing  distance,
timeless  silence.
just  like  a dream..
when the sun would rise,
in shades of crimson skies.
moments passing,
gazing to the light.
the orange tints to blue hue,
makes way for the night ahead..
like a dream  again.
watching rain fall slow,
the leaves on the surface.
vanishing in observable motion,
the trance of passing through.
  natural,  pure devotion.

through the corridors,
through the timeless void..
there is only never to always now.
    'the surface'
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Empyreal
The Final Frontier

Joined: Thu Nov 30, 2006 6:58 pm
Posts: 24839
Location: Where the dead rule the night
PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2017 12:15 am 
 

Amber Gray wrote:
Been living in a trailer in a storage facility outside the city limits and I totally wanna write a horror based around that whole area. The place is huge and my parents and I are alone there at night. Nearby is a small airport, a quarry, and a scrapyard. There's indoor hallways lined with doors to smaller units, with two especially bright exit signs on either side. Our trailer is parked around a bunch of long since abandoned vehicles.

If you ask me that's some good material


Gotta love that, yeah. I am not great at writing horror lately, but goddamn if I don't get inspired by some creepy ass scenery when I go to a new place.
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RichardDeBenthall
Metal newbie

Joined: Tue Apr 19, 2016 2:46 am
Posts: 268
Location: United Kingdom
PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2017 9:44 am 
 

Really cool thread. I like reading posts from people who are genuinely passionate about their art and aren't just looking to be cynical online. This is a poem I wrote recently about the Danse Macabre:

"The fiddler plays, and away we dance.
Shuffling, muttering, happy and sad.
“Where am I goin-”
The whip cracks, and I skip on.

The man in front shrieks a song.
Gibbering, crying, tired, glad.
“I’ve been here befor-”
The sky groans, and I sing on.

A river before us, a new shore ahead.
Grunting, rowing, straining, sweat.
“I think I know yo-”
The tiller man barks, and we row on.

Back on grey land, a dark figure awaits.
Shivering, freezing, nothing and never.
“Please, I didn’t wan-”
My bonds tighten, and we walk on.

The blackened guide beats his hollow drum.
Suffering, shaking, broken and bad.
“I’m sorry now, I never mea-”
The earth shakes, and we worm our way onwards.

Downwards, downwards our party descends.
Laughing, cackling, insane, mad.
“I’m ready to di-”,
A cold wind blows, and I trudge on.

Grey sun banished, down to the depths
SCREAMING, SCREAMING, WAILING, CRYING.
“Not here please, I can’t, I won-”
The fire burns hot, and I burn on.

I’m picked up, pulled apart, torn and blazed.
Judged and failing, weighed but wanting.
“I BURN FOR I AM WICKED!”
I scream, we scream, hell screams with me."

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Amber Gray
Metalhead

Joined: Sat Jan 21, 2012 12:30 am
Posts: 409
PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2017 7:30 pm 
 

Empyreal wrote:
Amber Gray wrote:
Been living in a trailer in a storage facility outside the city limits and I totally wanna write a horror based around that whole area. The place is huge and my parents and I are alone there at night. Nearby is a small airport, a quarry, and a scrapyard. There's indoor hallways lined with doors to smaller units, with two especially bright exit signs on either side. Our trailer is parked around a bunch of long since abandoned vehicles.

If you ask me that's some good material


Gotta love that, yeah. I am not great at writing horror lately, but goddamn if I don't get inspired by some creepy ass scenery when I go to a new place.

I just hope the blatant Shining worship isn't too much. It's like that plus American Psycho
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Thiestru
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Oct 09, 2008 9:18 am
Posts: 1736
Location: United States
PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2017 7:39 pm 
 

I'm glad you're enjoying the thread, RichardDeBenthall. I'm very pleased with how well it's doing!

I don't know if any of you like prose poetry, but it's possibly my favorite form. I love the freedom of it. The following is quite possibly my favorite prose poem I've ever written. I've never settled on a name for it. Maybe 'A Reverie' or 'The Picture'.

I went through the pictures one by one. Tears burned in my eyes, but I looked at them all the same. Reflecting. Fire fell in drapes over her shoulders and flowed ardently down her back. I could smell the heat across the years. My heart froze in my chest as though holding its breath for a moment that never came, the last gasp of air sucked out by the inferno of vain longing. I held my head in my hands and rocked back and forth, weeping like a child. Her face appeared in a memory, and she looked at me and smiled. The veil she had worn she tore away, and so much time drifted in a flourish down to the floor. She walked towards me and lifting her hand caressed my cheek. I shuddered and turned away. She laughed, a gentle laugh that mocked me with the understanding it expressed. Twilight trickled into the room, though morning or eve could not be guessed. Magenta, cerulean, sable. They dyed our flesh and stained the walls. Ocher, carmine, azure. Our forms in the mirror looked like porcelain dolls. Presently I stirred and regarded her. A certain wryness showed as a curl in her lips, and I hated her. Therefore I could not resist her. It is a folly of human judgement to deem love and hate distinct emotions. In their opposition they are one. She whispered my name and our fingers entwined, and with a sigh I surrendered. There never was a choice. She led me and bade me to bed, but a rush of wind rustled the sheets and the reverie guttered out. Alone again and an eternity later, I wiped the tears from my eyes. But still she stared from the picture, and the silence spoke with her voice.
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kingnuuuur
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Apr 24, 2008 3:35 pm
Posts: 2272
PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2017 7:46 pm 
 

For those interested, there's a lyrics feedback thread with tons of stuff in it.

Anyone here have a book or comic out?

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Amber Gray
Metalhead

Joined: Sat Jan 21, 2012 12:30 am
Posts: 409
PostPosted: Mon Apr 24, 2017 8:06 pm 
 

poem from way back

Sleepless

Time is blurred through teared eyes
Fun is no matter, time never flies
Sleepless for days, a growing fatigue
Insects climb the walls, three hours in the past week
Let's give up the effort, it's not going to come
Stiff on the floor, through the window enters the sun
Plagued forever with soreness and pain
Not even soothed by the sound of the rain
I've smashed a switch in my mind
Racing thoughts until it's fried
It won't turn off now, I fear
Forever running into the coming years

I'm weak and tired
Nights are long and wired
Seeing things that aren't there
Painted on, a blank stare

Madness descends
Insomnia never ends
An apology to my friends
Sleeplessness has driven me here
And I welcome now the sleep that doesn't end
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DecemberSoul
Metalhead

Joined: Thu Jan 21, 2010 9:46 am
Posts: 510
Location: Switzerland
PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2017 9:25 am 
 

Another song text for a metal band I was in in 2008:

OF LOSS AND LONGING

Waiting for years, a lifetime it seems.
What does aloofness yield for me? - the only state i may dwell in.
Am i incapable of living?
Burdened and worn, lovelorn i am (being) torn.

Can’t kill my dreams, they are too sweet,
for without them i know not how to endure this grey earth
- though never they’ll come true.

I ache, i ail, and have for as long (as) i know.
Tears brought no salvation.
Your splendid eyes overshadowing mine,
they’re what i longed for but never attained.
Embittered recalling great sunsets,
yet since i spent them lonely others shared them with you.

The waning hope, end of the rope.
Why must i question existence?
These barren years have been enough, i can’t go on,
not with isolation burning.
I shan’t grow old, i’ve always known.
There was a dearth that would release me not.
My final thoughts revolve around you,
my eyes’ last blink is shed on you.

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Jophelerx
Metalhead

Joined: Fri Jul 09, 2010 2:22 pm
Posts: 1121
Location: United States
PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2017 7:31 pm 
 

I've been making slow, sometimes glacial progress on a novel since the summer of 2014, I've got about 60k words now but I'm aiming for at least 150k total. At this point, I'm at a point where progress has been somewhat faster, and I'm trying to figure out which direction to go in certain cases, and I'd also like honest feedback on all aspects of it, but especially how subtle/not subtle some of the foreshadowing is. Feel free to tear it apart, I'm really just looking for any perspective on it outside my own. To describe it briefly, it's more or less equal parts high fantasy and psychological horror. In a sentence, it's about a young man who is recruited into some kind of elite hunting party for reasons unknown, and at the same time that his joining them and their journey into the mountains begins, he starts getting frequent disturbing visions, many of which from a demon called Maschkalth. Some of the visions are almost certainly supernatural in nature, but some of them are almost certainly just his own hallucinations as his mind slowly deteriorates, and he begins to have more trouble distinguishing the visions from the hallucinations, and eventually reality itself begins to blur. There's a lot more going on through most of the story, but the young man, Shawn, and his battle within himself is the crux of it.

If anyone feels inclined to read it and give me any honest feedback whatsoever, I'd be more than happy to give feedback on something of yours in return. Here is the prologue and the first seven chapters - I have a few more but I've been doing major content addition so Chapters 7 and on won't be coherent at the moment. I'm currently working on that, though, and will add chapters as I revise them. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1b7l ... sp=sharing

It's cool to have a little writing community around here, I hope this thread continues and doesn't die like the last 7 or so did. I intend to start looking over some of your guys' work soon. Seems like there's some interesting stuff around here! :beer:
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BastardHead
Magic Mike

Joined: Thu Aug 18, 2005 7:53 pm
Posts: 8313
Location: Elgin, Illinois
PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2017 9:50 pm 
 

I'll be reading that over the next few days, Jophelerx, if only because I've finally found inspiration and decided to quit toying with my fantasy tale that I never start and work on some shorter horror things and the one I've been working on over the last week has a similar theme. Mine is about a man suffering from night terrors so he starts keeping a dream journal, and once he starts that he begins to get a better grasp of what exactly is happening in the dreams, but it's all so fucked up and incomprehensible (and possibly supernatural) that it starts leaking into reality and he slowly loses his grip on things. Really about blurring the line between dream and reality, obviously inspired by Behind the Wall of Sleep. I feel like it's not terribly original but I want to see what I can do with it.
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Jophelerx
Metalhead

Joined: Fri Jul 09, 2010 2:22 pm
Posts: 1121
Location: United States
PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2017 10:00 pm 
 

That sounds pretty cool. Would be interested to read it once you're finished, it's always good to see a different take on a similar theme to see if there are any aspects of it that you hadn't considered. And also horror in general rules. Hope we can both get some new ideas! :evil:

EDIT: If anyone has already been reading, I have been making some edits, mostly just word choice. But if something seems different than you remembered, that's why.
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RoyCaesar wrote:
all music sounds pretty much the same, if it didn't, we wouldn't like it

macmoney wrote:
Isn't there a little mindshadow in all of us? I like to think so.

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Resident_Hazard
Possessed by Starscream's Ghost

Joined: Thu Oct 07, 2004 2:33 pm
Posts: 3085
Location: United States of America
PostPosted: Fri May 05, 2017 10:25 pm 
 

I am trying to do more writing and drawing because I'm pretty sure I suck at both and need the practice. But once, I had a short story printed in a Polish horror magazine. That is not a typo.

I have a Word doc filled with about 40-50 story ideas. What I need is the combination of fucking time and fucking drive to get to them. I've been trying to fit this stuff in lately to the point that I'm not playing video games anymore. I just need to focus, dammit.

Also, two short stories published on Amazon Kindle. Apparently, enough were purchased, that Amazon paid me $10 once. So, that means like 30. One 4-star review (out of 5, of course), so that was nice.
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Zelkiiro
Pounding the world with a fish of steel

Joined: Sat Apr 18, 2009 5:30 pm
Posts: 5493
Location: Pennsylvania
PostPosted: Thu May 11, 2017 9:49 pm 
 

So that really terrible novel I've been planning? I've got the first chapter largely hammered out and in need of some ass-kicking or validation (LOVE MEEEEE!!). Maybe I'll attach the second half of this part of the story onto the chapter via a split, or it might become Chapter 2. Either way, this is what I've got so far. You can read its awfulness here:
Spoiler: show
Chapter 1: The Traveler
(3rd Day of Sixthmoon, 754)

The pale blue light of the early morning sky crept up from behind as the great steam ship cruised along the river's placid waters. Thick clouds of fog clung to the river's surface like great cotton balls, seemingly shuffling aside to make way for their technological intruder. Hailed as the greatest industrial achievement of the day, harnessing the propulsive power of steam on a larger scale for the very first time, the S.S. Arachne was a fine vessel perfectly optimized to sail along Isilmar's winding, spiderweb-esque river systems. From inside the ferry's luxurious cabins, weary nobles and merchants scanned the invisible horizon with bleary eyes amid murmurs of "Oh, aren't we there yet?" and "Where is that bloody town, already?" as they shambled onto the deck. Many were already impeccably dressed, though clearly still half-asleep. It was plain to see that the vast majority of the ship's clientele were those of substantial wealth, but, unlike the others, one passenger in particular seemed to be of more humble means.

A young girl, no older than 17, fair-skinned and lithe, leaned against the side of the captain's wheelhouse. There, several sliding windows had been opened, allowing the captain to regale his young companion with his vast knowledge of the area and the sea beyond. "Aye, many thought it mad to settle here. Surrounded entirely by water, ya see! Great rivers to the north and east, the mighty Loch of Tirenius to the west, an' the even mightier Southeastern Expanse to the, er, well, southeast! An old fishin' post was all she ever was 'fore the merchants came, but wait 'til ya see 'er. I betchya ain't never seen a finer city come from outta nothin'!" The girl was listening intently, brushing her short, unruly raven hair out of her eyes as the morning breeze swept it in every conceivable direction. "It was in the year 551, it was, when the land all around ya was beginnin' to attract all kinds a' folks from all over, when this secret little fishin' hole brought so many traders and craftsmen that a steady community began ta form." She gazed up at the brightening sky as the captain went on, her dark green eyes catching faint glimpses of stars fading into the morning light. "An' so, by 574, the town of Grüntal was officially on every map 'n atlas in Isilmar!" The girl's attire matched her appearance, with a black tunic and matching pants, a black leather belt adorned with roughly a dozen pouches and bags, a pair of dark green bracers and boots, and traveling cloak so dark in its shade of green that it was nearly black. At her feet, a great black traveler's bag lay slumped and presumably full of daily necessities. "Even Atraxia's scholars acknowledg'd the town of Grüntal in 578, an' those dunces're slower ta make changes to their precious maps than me wife is to clean me shorts!" The captain followed this up with a mirthful laugh--though he bore a great aged scar running down his covered right eye, and his once-brown hair was thinning and graying, the glee on his face made him look as though a rambunctious boy had put on an elaborate costume to live out his fantasy of sailing his very own ship.

She turned her head towards the wheelhouse window and humored the captain with a wry smile, no doubt assuring him that his joke was just as funny as he'd clearly hoped it was. "An' so it was," the captain continued as the ferry sailed westward down the fog-laden river, "that the town was soon needin' ta get its act together--ta start doin' politics, ya get me, lass?" The captain's uncovered eye lit up as his smile grew broader and more mischievous, as if he were about to tell a particularly juicy story. "Oh, ya wouldn't believe the whirlin' shitstorm that Grüntal's governors are! Well, the first 'un, Valenar Tirenius, ya might've heard of him--the Loch's been named after 'im, an' you can see it from town once you get there--he was a stand-up fella," the captain took his hands off the wheel and rubbed them in anticipation, "but once the region started fillin' up with people, the great nation of Tirenius was born, still to this day the newest country on the map!" The girl found her eyes wandering again. By now, the sun had begun to peek out from behind the distant hills and the fading stars were altogether lost from sight. "Ol' Valenar presided over the town, as well as the entire country, once it came to be. An' this is somethin' you'll wanna remember, lass, 'cause it's important--Valenar Tirenius was the governor from 581 to 622, and it was on the 12th of Seventhmoon in the year 598 that the nation of Tirenius was born!" The girl nodded comprehendingly, though she privately thought that 7/12/598 was probably among the hardest dates imaginable to commit to memory.

The captain's delight could barely be contained as his snickering was poorly stifled, "'stoo bad Valenar stepped down and left his idiot son in charge! Phillipe Tirenius, the Horse Lover, he was called, and it only took three years for his pervert hobbies ta come ta light!" The captain's laughter was so loud that many of the nobles on-deck proceeded to glare at the girl and the wheelhouse, and became so protracted that the girl, once she shook off the aristocrats' deathly stares, began to eye the riverbanks with mounting unease. "An'-an' ever since," he went on despite choking back tears and guffaws, "it's always been some merchant lookin' ta get himself more power that went 'n ran for governor, and every time," more stifled snickers and guffaws, "every time they's always gettin' caught diddlin' little boys or sleepin' around with everyone's wives or, by the Light, ya won't believe what Marla Graus, Tirenius' first 'n only lady governor, did ta get the post!" At this point, the young traveler began to thoroughly block the captain's stories out, determining that both the trip and his stories still had several hours to go.

For the next hour or so, boredom and fatigue clawing at her eyelids, she endeavored to flash the captain a humorous smile here and there, nod or shake her head regularly whenever the story might call for it, and in general pretend that every one of his baudy tales was absolutely riveting. Along the riverbank, she spotted small settlements more and more frequently, which was a good indicator that her long river cruise was nearly at its end. "Ah, looks like we'll be comin' up on Grüntal's river port in a half-hour or so, so if you don't mind, I'll be skippin' right ahead to more current matters," the captain spoke hastily. "So, Tirenius is currently bein' led by one of the few noble governors in its history: Arthurius Windstrom, a conservative but very honorable man!" The captain puffed his chest with pride. "It only makes sense, as our country was facin' a huge economic crisis when he stepped forward. I believe Windstrom was elected in 732, or-or was it 733...?" The sound of a scruffy beard being scratched wafted through the wheelhouse window. "Well, whichever it was, he right then 'n there started all kinds o' programs ta get our country back on its feet--worked with the elves in the Eastern Hunt, he did! An' if anyone's got their shit together, it'd be them elves! Long time they've been sayin' we humans don't know how to keep our economies floatin', and Windstrom knows the value of tradition, even if it ain't human ones!"

The girl's private thoughts wandered briefly towards the idea that this Windstrom guy must not be all that conservative if he's all for trying new ideas, but the captain's tale continued, "An' so Tirenius was pulled out of the recession an' business was boomin'--Grüntal had the world talkin' once again, bein' the first human town to adopt elven economic policies without completely shittin' the bed! It was a big deal--I mean, makin' sure every last man, woman, an' child got a certain amount o' money every month? Ya'd have to be a bleedin' High Elf to figure that stuff out! An' yet, ol' Windstrom did it, by the Light! But what's even more interestin' about Windstrom's administration is the fella who was ousted just a year or so ago." At this, the girl spun her head towards the wheelhouse so quickly that her neck cracked. For some reason, this was the first thing the captain's said all morning that aroused any real interest from her (not that he would've noticed). "Darimus Kinstrode was his name, I think. Real unpleasant fella. Short 'n fat 'n got a big bald spot on top of his head. An' if Governor Windstrom showed us what a good conservative politician's all about, Kinstrode sure as hell showed us what a bad one's sure ta do." The captain leaned over to the opposide end of the wheelhouse and spat a massive wad of phlegm over the starboard side before returning to his story, a grimace plainly visible beneath his bushy moustache.

"Most greedy an' racist piece o' shit I ever did see," he grumbled. "Well, granted, never met 'im myself, but every word of his in the paper's always some trash like 'uncultured midget terrorists' when the dwarves invented the steam engine, sayin' they're some kinda inferior race tryin' ta take over our lands an' defile our women an' all that bunk." The sun was high enough now to illuminate the valley stretching ahead downriver, and the vague shapes of a city were now in view. The captain opened up a small hatch attached to a bronze tube, and shouted into it, "WE'LL BE ARRIVIN' SHORTLY! IF'N YOU AIN'T READY TO LAND, IT'LL BE YER OWN DAMN FAULT!" He closed the hatch and cleared his throat, turning back to his captive audience member. "Anyway, that Kinstrode bastard worked as Windstrom's chief secretary, which gave 'im full run o' Grüntal, unfortunately, an' he fought tooth-an'-nail to keep 'that degenerate elf policy that rewards beggars and moochers'," the captain relayed in a mocking high-pitched tone, "from ever bein' passed in the town's legistive...legalist...law-makin' hall. Betcha it was to keep his pockets full, as a lotta people say he was makin' a lotta quinas offa keepin' the poor, well, poor. So there 'e was, rollin' in quinas while his constituents barely got two vanas to rub together, fightin' against a law that would make everyone's lives better 'cept his." A triumphant smile flashed across the captain's face. "Thought he'd have a word with 'is boss, that Kinstrode did, an' he was fired on the spot! Then 'e tried to campaign against 'im--imagine that, a greedy toad like 'im tryin' ta win an election against Windstrom, who's pretty much loved by everyone 'round here!" A derisive laugh, seemingly deserved. "Well, you can guess how it turned out. Ever since, that Kinstrode bastard's been holed up in 'is mansion an' rarely shows his face anymore. Not than anyone's complainin'. An' now, with that all said, I'd say yer up ta speed, lass." He gave an important nod and held out his arms in a grandiose fashion. "That's the full, truthful history of the fine fishin' town of Grüntal! And I'll be eatin' my hat if it ain't so!"

The girl had a sneaking suspicion that, despite the captain's rough and off-the-cuff presentation, this whole story of his was actually well-scripted and well-rehearsed, because as he finished his tale, she was surprised to look up and see the town's river port fast approaching. The timing had to have been deliberate. Nevertheless, she seemed to have been satisfied by some part of his tale, because as she reached down to hoist her bag over her shoulder, she took a small piece of parchment from a roll attached to her belt, placed it under her cloak while making some strange gesture, and pulled it back out to hand to the captain. With a smile and a wave, she left the wheelhouse behind and stepped onto Grüntal's large and lavish pier. What a lovely girl, the captain thought to himself. As he gathered his things, no doubt preparing to get some supplies while in town, he unfolded the parchment the traveler handed to him and was curious about the message it contained: "Thank you for all your help, captain. The information you have shared will be most valuable in my investigation. Should my efforts prove successful, you will no doubt be among those who played their part in saving Grüntal from its destruction."

* * *

Grüntal was, indeed, a city worthy of being called "The Crown of Tirenius." The main thoroughfare leading from the pier was lined with shops and businesses of all kinds, in quaint storefronts or gargantuan stone towers. Side streets and alleyways, bustling and overflowing with people on their way to grab some lunch, formed a vast network of human activity. The town center, ironically located next to the pier and not really in the center at all, boasted the most successful businesses and most cutting-edge technologies (including a steam-powered foot massager, wherein a pump moved steam in and out of a bellows that raised and lowered a contoured foot stand, much to the delight of onlookers). A magnificent fountain in the town center depicted the nation's founder, Valenar Tirenius, in polished granite decorated with gilded armor and a lavishly-gemmed circlet, holding aloft a great water jug high to the heavens, the stream pouring out of the jug's lip and into the pool below. In the water's shallow bottom, a random assortment of coins could be seen, from numerous small silver vanas, several bronze zennas, a handful of green donas, and, from what the traveler could see, only a single golden quina. At the statue's feet was an inscription, bearing the legend: "Our Founder, Valenar Tirenius, 549-626. Blessed by the Light Eternal, the rivers of his wisdom flow like mighty waters through this great nation."

One of the first buildings along the thoroughfare was marked "Immigration and International Travel Bureau," and, as it was apparently customary by virtue of the fact that she witnessed an older couple from the steamship enter mere moments ago, the young traveler approached and let herself inside, as well. The building's interior was slightly shabby, the ancient wooden walls cracked but otherwise immaculate. A great long, bent table shaped like three sides of a square cordoned off a handful of clerks--an older man with a wispy white afro and a monocle discussing passport portraits wheezily with his customer, a plump middle-aged woman adorned in a shockingly-green cardigan cackling merrily at a joke told by a dashingly-handsome man she was assisting, and the third clerk appeared to be a beautiful, shapely woman carved out of wood, with her long bark fingers rifling through a nervous young man's paperwork--and in the middle of the room, three short lines had formed. Above each clerk hung a small, well-worn plaque indicating each of their stations' roles: The wispy older gentleman sat below "Passport Preparation - Putting Your Best Foot Foward!," the plump and amiable woman sat beneath "Your Destination Destination - Where Will You Go and How Will You Get There?," and the serene wood-woman's plaque read, "Documents Authentication - Are You Really Who You Say You Are?" The raven-haired young traveler shuffled on over to the Documents Authentication line, and found herself behind the aristocratic old couple she saw earlier. The wait time seemed to drag, and she found herself eavesdropping on them, catching phrases like "...can't believe he's taking so long..." and "...hope the steamship's still in port to take us to Vernalia..." as they whispered waspishly to each other with very little effort to conceal their impatience.

After fifteen minutes, the old couple finally reached the wood-woman's desk and the husband made it a point to display their documents swiftly and sternly state which paper was which. At this point, the girl in the dark green cloak decided a similar course of action was necessary, as she reached into the folds of her cloak to seize her own paperwork. The couple's haste seemed to have paid off, for their business was already concluded by the time the traveler found the last of her forms, catching her slightly off-guard. "I can help whoever's next," the wood-woman's smooth, calming voice wafted through the air like the refreshing scent of pine sap. The raven-haired girl shuffled sheepishly up to the Documents Authentication desk and presented her files to the wooden official. "Ah yes, Ms., err...Malrissa?" She looked quizzically at the girl. "No formal last name or family name?" The girl shook her head, nervousness draining her already lightly-colored face. "Odd for a human, but not unheard of," the wood-woman's silky voice caressed the office air as she shrugged off the unusual detail. Now that she was up close, the traveler Malrissa noticed a small placard on the official's desk, naming her Nal'anya, Head of Authentication and Forgery Detection. "Born in Tenthmoon of 737--awfully young to be traveling alone as a human, my dear--current residence is a cottage in town of Fenn, nation of Kritania on the Verdant Stretch--that's quite the distance you've come, young one--portrait appears accurate--and drawn exceptionally well, you must've found an excellent artist to handle your portrait..." Nal'anya put down the passport and began reading the sheet below, an official confirmation of legal permission to cross the Tirenian border from the bordering elven nation, The Eastern Hunt. "You came from the capital, Roselake, as well? Must've been strange for such an isolationist kingdom to get so many human visitors, so I can only assume that this Border Exit form was completed very quickly." Malrissa tussled the hair on the back of her head nervously, thinking that it was significantly and suspiciously quicker to gain permission to leave The Eastern Hunt's borders than it was to enter. A moment of silence sat awkwardly between the two as the brightly-dressed woman at Your Destination Destination was making animated conversation with a new customer, before Nal'anya finally seemed to have pored over the last few sheets.

"Well, Ms. Malrissa, I could detect no forgeries in your paperwork, and I have received confirmation from Mr. Alavash'nir of Roselake's International Travel Bureau regarding the validity of your credentials..." the wooden clerk proclaimed serenely, though Malrissa was left wondering as to how she had obtained such confirmation so quickly, "...so you are now free to go." Nal'anya nodded in the direction of the neatly-stacked documents in front of her. Malrissa gave a grateful smile as she scooped up her paperwork and ushered them haphazardly into her cloak pocket. "And I'm sure you won't need me to tell you this, young one, but be sure to enjoy your stay here in the great nation of Tirenius, and may the deities of your chosen faith watch over you and keep you safe." Malrissa raised a curious eyebrow at this unusual nicety. Nal'anya shrugged. "I would have simply given you blessings from the Life-Goddess Vilara, but, umm, I know that most humans know nothing of the gods of the fey, so I felt that such confusion would be unwarranted." Malrissa exited the International Travel Bureau feeling thoroughly more perplexed than perhaps the lackadaisical clerk had hoped.

* * *

Summer sunlight flooded the cobblestone streets as stifling humidity caused every inch of Malrissa's tunic and pants to cling tightly to her body like an inconsolable mother to a son who had just joined the king's army. Her large travel bag cut into whichever shoulder she hoisted it over after only a few minutes, so she contented herself to drag it along the ground. 'It's boarhide,' she thought to herself, 'It'll be fine. The road's clean...ish." It didn't take long for her ventures down Grüntal's winding streets for her face, neck, and damn near everything else to be drenched with sweat, but at least her travel bag was taking its abuse in stride. "Man, it's hot!" a gruff voice cried out from a restaurant on the right, cutting through the unmistakable smell of smoked meats. A thinner male voice responded, "The magi at the Climate Center said these next few weeks will be the hottest of the decade!" A grumble, a sound like a heavy, full dish clattering, and the gruff voice returned, "Goddamn pantywaists! Why spend your adolescence learning magic if you're just gonna waste your time predicting the weather? Hell, I'd cut off my beard and donate it to charity to learn how to use magic, just so I could control the damn weather and show those losers how a real mage operates!" Malrissa was already half a block away from the steakhouse, and still the gruff voice sounded clearly enough to be right next to her. Without warning, the smokehouse's smell wafted into her nose once more--apparently the road she was walking along was downwind from the noisy man's establishment--and Malrissa felt the unbearable weight of sweat and humidity fade away as the hunger drive began to take over her brain. With her paperwork now in order, the time to grab some grub was nigh, and she sure as hell wasn't going to spend a meal listening to more gravelly ranting. And with that, Malrissa straightened herself up and continued down the blinding-bright stone road in search of sustenance.

'Come to think of it,' she came to think of it, 'I still need to find a place to stay while I'm here. Grüntal's a big town, there's gotta be inns all over the place.' It's one thing to order a brain to look for food whilst hungry, but pulling double-duty and demanding it also look for lodging is too much for a starving teenaged mind, and so Malrissa's brain took the lazy option and sought exclusively an establishment that was both a food stop and an inn. Fortunately, it didn't take long at all to find it: "Levanne Bed'n'Bread," a loud red sign exclaimed on the building's wood-panel exterior, with a smaller brown oval sign subtitling, "Rolling and rising a-bread of the competition since 681!" Everything about them was pure pain, but sweat and hunger urged her onward. Hoisting her dirtied but durable bag over her right shoulder once more, Malrissa stepped on up to the poorly-named inn and entered. Immediately, the inviting smell of fresh dough overrode all thought processes, and Malrissa caught herself wandering aimlessly towards the source of that warm, heavenly aroma. She then proceeded to act like she was taking a roundabout pathway to the front desk. Snapped out of her stupor, Malrissa noticed that the interior of the inn was much like the exterior--light brown and wood-paneled. She remembered the sign outside saying this place was founded in 681, and seemed to recall reading somewhere that wood-paneling as an aesthetic construction method was popularized around that time, the brain-child of a famous mage who was unsatisfied with academia and turned to carpentry instead. Portraits and busts of what were apparently local heroes served as decoration in a spacious pub area off to the left, and she could've sworn she saw a six-foot-long mounted Antarctic Mackerel on the landing leading up the stairs to the guest rooms. Stupid thing must've been a thousand miles away from home when it got caught.

As she finally approached the counter, Malrissa saw a young girl who appeared to be her own age behind the counter, sitting on a wooden chair with a large hard-bound book in her lap. Great bunches of long, wavy, light-brown hair fell upon the girl's shoulders and chest, which--to Malrissa's consternation--was quite ample, indeed. A pair of narrow reading glasses were perched upon her perfectly-shaped nose, and--again, to Malrissa's envious irritation--her skin was radiant and absolutely immaculate. Scanning the book's pages were the most gorgeous blue eyes she, or perhaps anyone, had ever laid their own eyes on. A thin, delicate, gentle hand lifted itself from beneath the gigantic tome and turned one of its pages. 'You've gotta be kidding me!' Malrissa's mind raged inwardly, 'How the hell does someone win the genetic lottery like that?! I mean, compared to her, I'm--' But whatever universal injustice Malrissa was about to mentally expose was put on hold, for the unnaturally-attractive girl finally took notice of her guest and, with a flurry of flustered gestures and the thunk of a large book falling to the ground, she rose from her seat and practically prostrated herself before Malrissa. "Omigosh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please pardon me! I was just so absorbed I didn't notice--ah! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to imply that you're not interesting or important to us! I mean, welcome to Brevanne Led'n'Bread--I MEAN!! WELCOME TO LEVANNE BED'N'BREAD MY NAME IS WINONA LEVANNE PLEASE FORGIVE ME DON'T RUN AWAY I AM SO SORRY!!"

This girl, who had looked so downright beautiful and elegant just a moment ago, now looked remarkably childlike with her hair laying about her shoulders and frustratingly-large chest at random, glasses askew, face scrunched up in desperate supplication. At once, hunger hijacked Malrissa's brain once more, and she fumbled around at her belt, opening a small black pouch containing a portable roll of parchment. She tore a small piece off with her right hand and, from her left hand, a small mote of green fire manifested itself right before Winona's obscenely blue, unbelieving eyes. The green fire snaked its way from the mote onto the parchment, its iridescent light illuminating Malrissa's face and chest before dying down suddenly, its task complete. She handed the parchment to the astonished Winona, and its surface bore two messy, poorly-scrawled words: "I HUNGER." Before even stopping to consider how odd it was that her guest used such a roundabout method to communicate such a simple message, Winona doubled over with laughter, "Y-You mean, that wonderful, light show, just now, was just for this? It's, it's too much!" She was now huddled on the counter for support, shoulders quaking. "'I hunger'! Y-You can use magic, but, but...'I hunger'!" Malrissa crossed her arms in annoyance at the girl's melodious laughter. 'She'd be likable if she wasn't so damn charming, beautiful, and friendly!' her thoughts grumbled bitterly. Winona had finally composed herself, straightening her glasses and wiping tears of hilarity from the corners of her eyes, "I'm terribly sorry for the trouble. Please, right this way," she gestured gently towards the pub area before breaking out into a fresh wave of stifled chortling, "I-If you still hunger, that is!" It was patently obvious that this Winona girl was good-natured and wore her emotions on her sleeve, but dammit, was the note really that funny?

Malrissa was seated at a table for two just inside the pub, mere feet away from the front counter, and the still-giggling Winona brought her a menu printed on a large sheet of paper with a strange clear, protective coating. She was briefly curious about the covering, but that could wait--she tore her eyes up and down the menu's contents, instinct guiding them greedily from one entry to the next. The fact that the place was called "Levanne Bed'n'Bread" should've been a giveaway, but Malrissa was surprised at how prominently grain played a role in every dish: Steak-and-pepper rolls with boiled potatoes, seared lamb served with steamed leeks and huge dinner rolls, bread-fried fish fillet served in a buttery bread bowl alongside some poor hapless greenery that could only disappoint after ingesting something so fluffy, decadent, and beautiful. "Have you decided yet?" Winona's gentle indoors-voice was alarmingly calming, and any previous agitation Malrissa had felt towards her flaky host strangely seemed to melt away. She nodded, held up the menu and pointed blindly at the roughly-estimated spot where the fish fillet item was located, specifically a variant version served with various kinds of hot peppers. "Ah yes, a wonderful choice!" Winona crooned, "And what can I get you to drink?" Malrissa hadn't thought of that, and now she felt pretty foolish. She awkwardly fumbled for her parchment roll and, in the familiar display of green fire, etched a few, more neatly-written, words onto a small square piece: "Just water will be fine, thanks."

"Umm..." Winona began with an air of cautious friendliness, "I don't mean to tell you what you can or can't do, I mean...but, umm...wouldn't it be faster to say what you want? I-I mean, I'm not saying you should! I-It's totally up to you! I just, I..." but before Winona could fluster her way into a deeper hole, Malrissa waved her hand dismissively and smirked before pulling down the neck of her tunic--there, clear as anything, a horrendous and jagged scar as thick as two of her fingers tore across the whole of her neck, the reason for her silence blindingly obvious. Winona's gasp of horror was as deep and dramatic as it was startlingly genuine. As Malrissa flashed a don't-worry-about-it wave of her hand, her host clasped both of hers on top. Winona's infinitely-blue eyes were suddenly streaming with great, fat tears. "I'm...I'm so sorry! I've d-done nothing but harass and insult you! How could I be so rude?! I just, I-I--" And just like that, she ran off with surprising speed while wiping her eyes with her forearm, presumably about to attempt a land-speed record for Fastest Food-Prep Service in Tirenius. Winona was still tearful when she brought out a large pitcher of ice-cold water and a beautifully-sculpted drinking glass, but as Malrissa raised her hand to wave in thanks, her host bolted once more, evidently wishing to be as little trouble as possible. 'Aww dammit, now I feel bad,' Malrissa thought, 'That girl's simply too good for this sinful world!' her mind mused to itself with ironic mock-sanctimoniousness.

About 20 minutes later, as the afternoon sun was now visible through the pub area's tall windows, a handful of customers started trickling in one by one. A new figure emerged from the direction of the kitchen (presumably) to see to them, and considering the friendly conversations that ensued, they must be some of the regulars. Malrissa had been taking a swig of water and very nearly spat it out in surprise as her new host approached, since she was very nearly the spitting image of Winona, albeit slightly more aged, curvier, and somehow, miraculously, even bustier. Slight dimples at the corners of the woman's mouth were the only indicators of imperfection, mesmerizing attractiveness apparently being hereditary in the Levanne family. "Hello dear, my name's Hilda Levanne, and I'm terribly sorry about the wait," the woman said in a naturally deep and, strangely, sultry voice as she balanced two large glass plates perched upon her left arm. "My lovely young daughter--you must be around the same age, I imagine, so very young to be out and about all on your own--but my daughter came crying to me saying she'd insulted a guest and then locked herself in her room! She can be a little dramatic; I hope you can forgive her." Malrissa waved both her hands frantically in front of her, indicating that the situation was not as it appeared, and she tore a several-inch section of parchment from her belt and formed the mote of green fire to write on it. "Oh, my...to think we'd have such a talented mage patronize our humble inn!" the woman crooned as Winona did earlier, placing the large plates on either side of Malrissa's little ritual. As the green flame died once again, Malrissa handed the slip to the now-freed hands of Winona's mother.

The parchment stated: "It's not like that--the Winona girl's just being inordinately hard on herself. She was curious about why I don't speak, and so I showed her my scar, and, well, she thought she insulted me...somehow? Do tell her it's alright, I haven't been harassed or whatever it is she thinks she's done. (Also, while we're here and this is all out, I'd also like to buy one of your rooms for the next week.)"

Though she still felt slightly guilty, Malrissa's hunger reached its peak, so she pulled the plate containing the fried fish fillet bread bowl towards her and began to chow down unceremoniously. "Why of course, you're welcome to stay in one of our rooms for the week," Mrs. Levanne said with a warm smile so very much like Winona's, "and I'll be sure to let her know she's worrying over nothing again. She really is such a sweet girl, and she takes her job so seriously, too, even if she is a little flaky. Well, I'll be back shortly to check on you, dear." Malrissa bowed her head gratefully, and as Hilda Levanne turned the corner, she went back to ravaging her meal like a beast gone mad. The fish was perfectly prepared, but it seemed the inn's pride in its grains was not misplaced, as the second dish containing two cheesy biscuits and the inn's specialty, the Tirenian Pepper Roll, easily stole the show with their glutenous glory. Malrissa's belt mysteriously felt much too tight to be her own by the meal's end, when Winona made a surprise return to collect the dishes, looking sheepish and embarrassed. She seemed hesitant to look Malrissa in the eye.

"I, umm...I'll go ahead and take your dishes, and i-if you give me a few minutes, I can then show you your room--I mean, show you to your room--I-I mean, I guess either way's fine, huh? W-Well, I'll be back!" Winona stammered awkwardly, her hand shaking slightly as she gathered up the two plates, the glass, and the pitcher. Malrissa reached into her pants pocket to retrieve a handful of golden quinas to pay for her meal, and placed them on the table before standing up to pace about the pub. The minutes seemed to pass by with inappropriate sloth, as Malrissa studied the local heroes' portraits and busts in vain for any details the steamship captain neglected to mention early that morning. The man certainly knew his stuff, apparently. Winona reappeared about 10 minutes later, hands folded in front of her and fidgeting slightly, still quite sheepish. "If you come this way, I-I'll show you where you'll be staying." She suddenly balled her hands into fists, striking a determined pose. "I've decided to take a hit in my pay to let you stay in our finest room at half its usual rate!" she exclaimed with righteous fire blazing in those blue, blue eyes. Malrissa smiled bashfully, left hand reaching for her belt to issue a reply before Winona seized it with both her own hands. "It's alright! It's how I want to make things up to you! I'm also treating you to all your meals all week long!" Malrissa wanted to protest--this was clearly too much--but she continued on, "And, and...anything else you need, don't be afraid to ask, okay? So please...just let me make it up to you." Malrissa's eyes met hers, the muddy green standing no chance against the heartwarming sincerity bubbling up to the surface of those fathomless blue pools. Malrissa found herself thinking again, without irony, that this girl really was too good for this sinful world. She returned to her chair, hoisted up her travel bag, and followed Winona to the stairs.

Up the landing to the second floor, Winona took the left-hand path to a door at the end of the hall. "Here it is: The best room at the Levanne Bed'n'Bread!" she cried out triumphantly. The candles in the room hadn't been lit yet, and the evening sunlight seeping through the curtains didn't make things any brighter, somewhat dampening the illustrious introduction. Winona pulled out some flint to light a candle, but Malrissa had this covered--with a wave of her left hand, bright sparks sought out the room's many candles and braziers, lighting them with magnificent white flames. Now illuminated, the room bore luxurious midnight blue curtains and beautifully-made wooden dressers, a mirror-polished wooden floor with small, sleek animal fur rugs, and a spacious four-poster bed with silk sheets. It really was the most wonderful room Malrissa had ever seen. Winona, meanwhile, stared in awe at the dancing flames. "Wow, that's incredible, umm..." In that moment, Malrissa suddenly remembered that she hadn't yet given Winona her name. She tore a parchment fragment and, with the help of that green mote of flame, quickly etched: "Call me Malrissa." Winona stared at the parchment, seemingly trying to engrave every detail of the short message into her heart and mind, before looking up and smiling at her honored guest. "Well, I'd better go down and see if my parents need any help," she said meekly, to which Malrissa returned a smile and waved, bidding farewell to her beautiful, overenthusiastic host.

Now, as the sun began to set and she was left in private, Malrissa undressed out of her dirtied traveling clothes and dug through her bag for a fresh change of undergarments and a light sleep outfit. There really wasn't any need to go outside for the rest of the day, so she might as well sit tight and relax. It was a pretty normal day, all things considered, but from tomorrow on, the investigation will be in full swing. And based on the current information, the once-prominent politician, Darimus Kinstrode, was the primary suspect. Malrissa began to mentally put together a battle plan for tomorrow, so that, hopefully, as she had promised the captain, by week's end she'll have saved Grüntal from its fated destruction.

NEWER SHINIER EDIT: More massive changes! And now they're somewhat presentable! It's probably extremely unrepresentative of the rest of the story as I have it planned! Read it and weep (at its abysmal quality)!
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Amber Gray
Metalhead

Joined: Sat Jan 21, 2012 12:30 am
Posts: 409
PostPosted: Wed Jun 07, 2017 11:47 pm 
 

My big and gnarly story is coming together and lookin to be big and gnarly

Basically it's about a wandering insomniac being passively chased everywhere he goes by surreal creatures that only he can see. And he eventually meets a girl and falls in love with an illusion of her created by a witch doctor who claims she is actually a demon. Shifts into esoteric mystery mode when a string of otherworldly murders begins. Then there's the nameless policemen who remain in one spot inside of a hedge maze at the time the murder case begins, because one of them believes the crimes to be done by an evil to great to combat and is afraid to leave or encounter it.

Does that sound cool? I've never thought of plot as my strongsuit but I think this is my most thoughtful and strongest yet
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