Archive: 12 posts

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Hey I guess this came to me when I was reading the "Poetry" topic. I'm wondering how many of you write. Whether it's poetry, short stories, plays, screenplays, novels, fiction or non-fiction... please post here. Share whatever you like, when you started, what genres you focus on, if you've ever been published etc.

2009-01-25 03:06:00 Author: Burrich Posts: 1018

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They had called me crazy. They didn?t understand. They followed society?s laws, followed it's foolish regulations to stamp out the truth. They were idiots. But I, I am the only one in the true quest for knowledge. I am the one who will stamp out the truth, allow the truth to override laws and customs. I will find the truth. For I have created a time Machine. Yes? A Machine, and with it, everything may end? Or everything may begin. * * * I reformed in a dark alley. Quickly, I looked around to see if I was complete- this was a one way trip, so I hadn?t been able to test it beforehand. I walked slowly to a dumpster, and found an old newspaper. May 8th, 2009. I have done it. I have traveled through time, to my elementary school days. I couldn?t help laughing- who could? Well, maybe those regulators back in Washington might? But I had to stop- somewhere, I had to be. My younger self. Pure and innocent. Yes? somewhere I must be. Unknowing of what is about to happen. For I must find out the TRUTH. I must see time?s defense mechanism. And to do that, I must kill my younger self. * * * I had kept a wallet full of 2000?s dollar bills on me- they had reformed in the transporter too. I needed supplies- but I had no time to WORK. I had to do this quickly- the faster the better. So I took a wallet full of contemporary money on me, and it recreated itself in this time period too. Politely, I thanked the Car Salesman- he expected the car back by next Friday. It wouldn?t be. But I couldn?t let him know that; I just took it and drove off. I took the 2040?s pistol I had with me and placed it in the glove compartment- I was sure to bring that, because ever since the election of 2024, guns could be easily found at any hardware store. Not so here in the past; we still had to have gun licenses and the like. But I shrugged it off and drove- today is a Friday, so I should be alone with my dad?s. Time for the experiment to commence. * * * I never liked my dad. He and my mom were high school dropouts, after my mom got pregnant with me by him. His parents forced him to marry my mom, and so he was tied down to me. He never bothered to get divorced, nor did my mom, and so he?s just an unemployed drunk while my mom works two shifts. Hm? now that I thought about it, they were both idiots. But no matter- having only my dad there would make this easier. My pistol was in my jacket pocket, hidden from view. I could hear the TV blaring; I was probably watching it. I rang the doorbell, and heard it ring twice. The door opened. I fired my pistol. Twice. My dad fell backwards. He had answered the door. I quickly ran into the house, back into my old family room- I tried finding me. I ran throughout the house, firing anywhere I could see I may be. Then, I remembered: I ran out the back window, to my neighbor?s house, where I?ll call the police. But? how did I remember that? I didn?t remember that two seconds ago? I could already hear the police siren! They were faster then I remembered? As I ran out, I fired my pistol once at my dad to make sure he was dead, and ran out. * * * Of course. I remembered that memory because THAT is what happened to me now in my past. I had already changed history, and so my mind changed to reflect this new image of history. But I remembered both paths of history- I remembered the one with my dad involved, and I remembered the one in hiding in the Witness Protection Program. And then I remembered my dad showing me the original Back to the Future when I was in 4th grade, beginning my blossoming into a creature of science. But that was in the old history- my dad was dead now, so a new history, a new memory had sprung up. Now, I saw Back to the Future when I was at a school meeting in my new identity?s home Alabama. History had changed to fit its new life. Time?s Defense Mechanism. .The fact that I remembered both paths of history could easily be attributed to my method of time travel- I was still in my lab, in my original body, in my time machine- the time machine merely traveled my brain waves, the DNA of how my mind works, across time and space into a new time. Then, it condensed air into how my mind remembered I looked. As such, my true body was still in that lab, unconscious in that time machine, never to awaken as my mind was in the past. Seeing as how I thought in the past but existed in my present, I truly existed in two times. I remembered the truths of both. However? If I?m still here, and my original body is in a time before I altered events? Then could I have created an alternate dimension, and my original body is in the old? This requires proper testing. This requires the experiment to be completed. * * * I had been on the run for three years. I remembered all the places the Witness Protection Program took me; it's just that it kept changing. History kept rewriting itself in my mind, so that the place I thought I would show up was a different place, as in actuality history had changed its course so that they put me somewhere else. Time was a crafty foe, always changing itself to prevent what may happen- but I had to defeat it. I had to best time. Again, wrong place- I wasn?t in Arizona now. I was in Oklahoma. I decided that I would have to wait. I had to wait until they decided to move me. Then, I would be able to know where the plane was landing. I made sure to hide- I was on America?s most wanted list. Hm, with all the murders out there, it's strange that I would be on there. Maybe Time itself forced me to be up there, so as to save itself? But I had no time for that- I remembered a new memory. My mom was in a seat on an airplane across from my child self. She? looked a lot more sad then she used to? She tld me that everything?s alright, that soon the murderer will be gone, that soon everything will be alright? Everything will be alright when we get to Houston, Texas? My younger self looked at my watch! April 6th, 2012? TODAY! This? this memory was happening TODAY! Texas? Houston wasn?t that far! I quickly stole a car from a junkyard and basically flew down to Houston, trying to remember where my house was before we even got there. As I pulled up to what looked to be our house, some movers were moving us in. Those movers were secretly Witness Protection Program officials, though? I quickly drove back, careful to not be spotted- I ran in the back, and hid in the dumpster. I waited. A few hours later, I heard footsteps. Could? could this be it? Someone opened the trashcan, and I fired! My mom fell back, dead. I had no time to consider what changed- this could be my last chance! I may never fool time again! I ran up the house, no one hearing my fire my silenced gun. I heard TV upstairs- ?Great Scot!? ? Back to the Future. I was watching Back to the Future. Gently I walked upstairs, making sure no one heard me. Strange? no one else was here? no guards, nothing? Unless there was security cameras? But they couldn?t get here fast enough! I broke down the door, and pointed the gun at my younger self. This was the first time, in all three years, I had actually SEEN me? he just paused there, scared and frightened at the strange, scary man who had been hunting him for three years now. But now was not the time for that! THIS is when everything ends, or everything begins! I didn?t stop to consider all the memories that came rushing through my head- I just pulled the trigger, and fired the bullet. It hit him dead on. I had done it. I have cheated Time. As my body hit the floor, everything began to change? I'll just leave this here... Wrote it for a school assignment a few months ago, and, needless to say, I got all 25 points =_=. Anyway, wrote it in an hour, although I've been thinking of it for months- the assignment just gave me an excuse :/. I also am writing a story based on the forum, updated daily, in the Artwork and Creativity forum... And I have tons more story ideas... just a matter of getting them out :/ and for me to stop being lazy and actually doing them :/. Anyway, I am working on another project now soon... not a story, but I hope I can share what it is soon... I've been thinking of that story for years now :/.

2009-01-25 03:17:00 Author: RockSauron Posts: 10882

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Well as mentioned on the poetry topic I am a poet myself. I have had some work published in a few anthologies that were released by poetry.com. I have not written anything in quite a while though and I think this related to getting older, having a family of my own etc. When someone is young there is a certain amount of creative energy just begging to be released which I think diminishes over time. Having said all that I have found a fantastic creative outlet with LBP and all my levels feature a lot of writing, it's part of who I am

2009-01-25 03:29:00 Author: OCK Posts: 1536

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Well I may as well answer my own thread . I'm a writer, I only ever write short stories, I've never tried to write a book... I feel as if I don't have the determination to see it through if I started. It is a dream of mine, though not a huge one, to write a novel at some point of my life. I haven't written in a long time... a few years at this stage. The last time I wrote a short story was for my leaving cert... I had to make one up on the spot which is difficult to do but I managed to write a half decent one and got my A1. Haven't really written since then though. I guess when I look back on the things I've written before it all feels so pretentious and... juvenile. I almost feel embarassed to have written it. Does that happen to everyone? I'd love to start writing again but a part of me finds it hard to care at the same time. Anyway I may as well post this, this is one a wrote in preparation for my LC but it didn't fit on the day. Hunted I ran quickly, dodging nimbly from left and right to avoid the surrounding branches and bushes as I flew past. The loud noises of pursuit pushed me on, baying horns and hounds getting closer and closer, their terrifying scent stinging my sensitive nose, blown in my direction by the howling wind. All that mattered was my escape, my escape from the hunt, from the hounds? my escape from death. My once silky red coat was battered, torn. The constant fleeing, near capture and escape was wearing me thin. I hadn?t eaten in four days. My stomach growled as I ran, my legs becoming more and more leaden as I tried to stay ahead of the overgrown vermin snapping at my white-tipped tail. Their hot breath stank fiercely, large globules of saliva drooling from their snarling mouths. The fear, oh God the fear. My heart raced furiously. I knew now that they would never stop, that if I didn?t escape soon it would not be long until their jagged teeth ripped me apart. The only thing that kept me going was the primal urge to survive. I had nothing else to live for. The dogs had seen to that. I had watched two days previously as they ripped my partner to shreds. They tore out her throat; her last cries brought suddenly to an end and then played with the carcass, tossing it between them, as if she was nothing more than a rat. It made my heart ache to remember how they had shredded her glossy crimson coat, exposing and devouring the tender pink muscles underneath until there was nothing left except the bones, thin scraps of stringy flesh hanging from the ends, and a pool of ruby red blood turning slowly to brown as it mixed with the mud underneath. The horrific image brought bile up from my stomach, which burned the back of my throat. Why? Why did they kill her? Why do the humans now hunt me? What reason is there for their blind and all-consuming hatred? It was a question I was still unable to answer. I pushed the appalling vision forcibly to the back of my mind before scrambling through another bush. The thorny limbs caught in my fur and scraped the sensitive skin underneath. I ripped free, searing pain shooting up my back. I clenched my teeth and shook myself, watching dismayed as a shower of blood droplets scattered in the wind before darting onwards just as the hounds reached and got tangled in the terrible shrub. But being much larger beasts than I they had great trouble extricating themselves from the thorns. I dashed on a little more slowly glad for the opportunity to breathe. I stopped for a few moments at a trickling stream and drank my fill, the water cooling and relieving my parched throat. My stomach growled and contracted painfully, deeply dissatisfied by the lack of food. I was becoming faint and truth be told I was very much surprised that I had lasted this long. I scampered downstream, my faded-white paws making small tinkling splashes. The water was doing wonders to ease the throbbing jet-black pads on my soles. I glanced constantly from side to side searching intently for footprints and other signs of wildlife. The barking and sharp cries of the hunting horns had fallen into the background; the moving water helped to mask the direction of my passage. I thanked Mother Nature graciously for presenting me with this blessed opportunity to rest for a little while and hunt for food. I soon came upon a fresh trail; two sets of long, narrow, four-toed footprints sunk deeply into the muddy banks of the stream. The depth and length of the prints could only mean one thing: Hares! I followed them slowly and carefully so as not to alert them to my presence. The wind was blowing in my face, carrying their stomach-wrenching scent up my nostrils, and hiding my scent from their small, constantly twitching noses. I caught sight of them as the loped lazily towards their burrow. They stopped frequently, their long whiskers trembling as they scrutinised their surroundings, searching for any threat. I stalked forward quietly, staying cautiously low, using the lay of the land as concealment; a small rise of earth hiding me from their watchful eyes. Just as they started to continue, as the powerful hind paws left the leaf-covered ground, I pounced, snapping its neck between my powerful jaws, watching sadly as the tiny black eyes misted over and the long pointed ears fell limp against its slack body. I felt strong empathy for its companion as I watched its spherical, fluffy brown tail disappear down the burrow, knowing that I had possibly just done what had been done to me two days before. But there was a difference; my survival required the sacrifice while my kind and I were hunted for sport. I ate the hare slowly, stripping the flesh carefully from the bones, savouring the taste as the still warm meat and blood washed over my tongue and swallowed, my stomach gurgling with pleasure after the much-needed meal. I felt warm, content for the first time in days, the hunt fading to a distant memory, the now almost inaudible horns fading to insignificance as I fell into a deep, much needed slumber. When I woke night had fallen. A thick, all-encompassing mist clung to the trees and shrubs. The wood, had fallen silent, an eerie, tomb-like silence that sent a shiver up my spine. I looked carefully around me, the silence making me cautious not to make a sound. All seemed clear, but the fog made vision beyond a few metres impossible. I warily got to my feet, every sound that I made echoing ominously. Something wasn?t right? I took a single step forward and froze, every single hair standing on end as a booming, hate-filled growl reverberated around me, the silence slowly ebbing away as it became more and more pronounced. It came from all sides, surrounding me and a whimper escaped my lips. I tried desperately to control my horror, as four enormous hounds, appeared through the haze, their bodies becoming more and more defined with each passing second; their muscles tensed, their jaws tightly clenched as they bared their long fang-like teeth. They closed the distance, escape now impossible. I shook myself and stood proudly, waiting for the end to come. I imagined her beautiful, glossy crimson coat, and her elegantly pointed snout as I felt the jagged teeth scrape against my exposed throat? There are problems with it (especially with the flow after the 4th paragraph) though to be honest it probably is the best short story I've written to date and probably the best I could have written at the time. I just feel I'm older now and I think I could write much better but without the LC there it's hard to drive myself to write.

2009-01-25 04:18:00 Author: Burrich Posts: 1018

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I'm a poet and a lyricist. I've been writing since I was about 8 years old. You can hear some of my lyricism at http://www.ursession.com/NinjaMic - most of this music, being hip-hop oriented is very aggressive and vulgar, but there is some introspective to it and most of my written, unrecorded material is much more pensive and personal. Just an fyi, these tracks are about 4 to 5 years old, and were all mixed at home on a PC with very basic software and a terrible mic. I've collaborated with various people in all the places I've lived, and through the internet and they've achieved varying degrees of notoriety but I have never really pursued it as a lucrative career. I keep a binder with me, in a packpack for moving purposes, that's got nearly everything I've ever written in it and I add to it whenever I get a streak of creativity and need to write. It's a few hundred pages of random verses, lines, poems and scrawled concepts. A miraculous thing is that I suffered an explosive fire in my apartment two years ago that destroyed so much of my belongings, yet in the aftermath... this notebook survived. The ceiling tiles had collapsed onto it and smothered it from the fire. It was a little singed, smokey, and wet... but I took that as a great saving grace in my life to have not lost something so dear to me. That's why I've always considered my writing, and my passion for art in general, something very special. EDIT: That is a beautiful story, pillay. It was extremely visual, and I'm amazed that you could capture the psychology of being an animal with thoughts and feelings. I'm not much for proof reading or corrections, but I enjoy it's intent.

2009-01-25 04:42:00 Author: Unknown User

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EDIT: That is a beautiful story, pillay. It was extremely visual, and I'm amazed that you could capture the psychology of being an animal with thoughts and feelings. I'm not much for proof reading or corrections, but I enjoy it's intent. Thanks man, that means a lot. I listened to your "Moonlight Sonata" (EDIT: and a few others as well ) and I thought it was amazing! I'm not a big fan of rap (or at least I don't think I am, perhaps I've never given it a chance, I don't listen to it much)... but there's just something about the timing, the rhyming, the choice of backing music, the choice of words and syllables... it just all felt right and you seem to have a good voice for it too. And Moonlight Sonata happens to be a favourite of mine, I love the piano! Sorry to hear about the fire, must have been awful to lose your possessions like that and I'm glad your book survived, I don't have even nearly as much personal writing as you and it would still be quite a blow if I lost what I have.

2009-01-25 05:14:00 Author: Burrich Posts: 1018

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i am writing this at the moment i like it i have been updateing as much as i can WARNING STRONG LANGUAGE http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=ddfqctch_8fgmvzmdx i havent decided with a name for it so for now im just calling Eternal

2009-01-25 05:35:00 Author: Snrm Posts: 6419

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I write whenever I get a topic interesting enough. Though, part of my enjoyment of writing comes from twisting what the intended topic is to my own satisfaction. >_> My father constantly pesters me to get all of my writings together (from poetry to short stories) so that he can publish them, but I've never really been interested in coinciding with his plans; at least, not yet... '-__- He asked me to write something for his Farewell Party which was a week or so ago, and (kudos to those that spot it) I'm happy with the outcome: Ending at the Beginning A new world presented to me at age of five, With the blood of youth still ripe within me, Introduced to my new domain, my new bee?s hive, A new era of opportunity. As the time did fly by, I grew mentally, Ever stronger did I become in mental skill, I grew conceited in my love for those around me, Whom I hold dear, yet never admit, even still. I gazed upon he-who-bore-me with eyes, Gleaming did they with keen interest, Learning new things that, to my surprise, Did indeed assist me with zest. As life prolonged I soaked in more, Wisdom and knowledge that I could attain, More, indeed, than I had hoped for, But all it did was in benefit I would gain. Twenty-five with you, seventeen with me, Years he spent patiently providing, Work ethic of such unique quality, Strict rules he and us all abiding. To one such as me of crude emotion, Change so great in a sudden moment, Bringing with it a sturdy commotion, Brings to me sorrow worthy of lament. To be cynical would be to tear, Of such a departing loss to a great number, Of people to us truly held dear, But that is why I am no negative member. Unusual for me, I kept my eyes clear, Focused on the possibilities ahead, Optimism rare that I even fear, For myself, and the ideas to be lead. To take this event as a loss would be, As I deem, a surreal sign of close-mindedness, For now is when life meets reality, So widen your thoughts and be filled with happiness. For every circle there is a start and an end, But is not the end the beginning once more? Father of mine, colleague of yours, and then, End of curve, start of curve, what are you waiting for? None of those that listened to it really understood what I said, since they all said that it was "very good". If only they knew... >=)

2009-01-25 15:40:00 Author: ScytheOfGrim Posts: 438

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I'm kinda something of a hobby writer. I can't do squat when it comes to poetry (I might be able to crank out something vaguely cohesive, but it'd be very rough, short, and take way too long) and by extension lyrics are also out of my reach. Essentially, I'm a roleplayer. And I graduated that sense of character and sense of story into more full-fledged writing. All fiction, tendency towards sci-fi. If you want, I've got thirty Word pages of a story I've been working on for a couple weeks linked on my blog. I tend to think of my writing as cinematic in ways, particularly the action, because I lay out a lot of details of what actually happens, and the overall pacing of it, rather than leaving things more vague. Plus, the overall "hollywood realism", where it's grounded in facts, but there's a bit of leeway for bending it. However, I do have a strong tendency to over-elaborate, especially when it comes to laying out the scenery. And no, nobody's actually read any of my work, because I've written some things for myself that maybe a family member read part of, or the entire thing was contained within a forum roleplay. Nothing even close to publishing. Mod note: Remember that we have an Artwork and Creativity forum. If you want to post something up, please do it there. However, as this thread is something as an advertisement for that forum in the more-frequented General Chat, it will remain here.

2009-01-25 17:20:00 Author: Mark D. Stroyer Posts: 632

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I used to write quite a lot, poetry, books, short stories, reviews. I've kind of slowed down recently, since I'm currently trying to put stuff into my brain (learning Japanese and want to learn guitar) rather than let stuff out, I still occasionally write poetry and the odd properly in-depth review of games etc, to keep myself sharp. I've had my reviews published on a few websites over time, never paid for in cash, but occasional thank-yous from publishers such as new games etc have been nice. I tried to get one of my novels published once, I had an agent trying to get me a publisher, I had some interest, but the interest I had wanted me to change the secondary character to a level I was no longer comfortable with and would have meant it wasn't the kind of story I wanted to tell anymore, so I let it slide and it went nowhere. I'm still glad I stuck to those principles though, I'd rather not have been published than putting my name to something I wasn't proud of.

2009-01-25 17:44:00 Author: flakmagnet Posts: 1084

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I've wrote a few short stories for My school anual I was one of three people in my year who got a story put in it

2009-01-26 19:00:00 Author: Don Vhalt Posts: 2270

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I wrote a story called kitty tales in the 7th grade. It was 134 pages long. But then I was too lazy to do anything more to it so it just disappeared one day.

2009-01-26 20:28:00 Author: qrtda235566 Posts: 3664

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