[IMG]http://i.imgur.com/1yLLmk8.png[/IMG]
Surprised this doesn't exist yet (or maybe it has before). Basically this is a thread where you post all of your writing material; good or bad it doesn't matter. Preferably good. Screen writing is allowed too.
i enjoy writing
special haikus on the fly
i did this one too
I love short poems, but this will forever be my favorite.
[editline]19th January 2015[/editline]
[QUOTE]In the wake of yawning decadence,
In the arms of dreadful pestilence
In the eyes of hopeless impudence,
Fearless Thou shalt be!
When the time is ripe to cast the sword
When the time is prime to spread the word,
When evil’s ugly head is reared,
Fearless Thou shalt be!
When it’s time to do the best things right,
When it’s time to hold your stance and fight
When you don’t look back to dread your plight,
Fearless Thou shalt be!
When evil’s deed is unvanquished
When all good seems to have perished
When good almighty’s left ravished
Fearless Thou shalt be!
For darkness comes before the light
Victory comes as the hero’s right
Tarry not, Stand up and fight!
Fearless Thou shalt be![/QUOTE]
[QUOTE=fudge blood;46963532]I love short poems, but this will forever be my favorite.
[editline]19th January 2015[/editline][/QUOTE]
[I] would love to hear a recording of this[/I]
Especially in Leonard Cohen's voice, it'd be my dream to hear him record more poetry
[video=youtube;VGEWQRL2sJk]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VGEWQRL2sJk&index=4&list=FLcULDykBo_AtDWj5q9MFamA[/video]
[b]GEEEEEEEEEEEZ[/b]
An abtraction distraction, for the daily jester,
A fortitude of solitude, maybe next semester,
When will I reach that state of pure bliss
That long sought after informational abyss.
There is is on the horizon, mocking me still,
T'was a sight that Poseidon couldn't instill.
His towering waves and fearless swells,
Would be only slaves to nirvana's bells.
The Storyteller
The children gathered 'round him
As his trembling voice gave rise;
The fire in his words belied
The torment in his eyes.
He sang of villains he had slain
When lesser men had run,
And sheath'd his blade to stand alone
Beneath the blazing sun.
He told them of a thousand kings
That fell beneath his blade;
The grisly shapes that once were men
On the bloodied field were laid.
He lamented nations laid to waste
In the name of gold and glory;
God had chosen him alone
To live and tell the story.
He watched them as they listened
With the open ears of youth,
And knew that they would curse him
If they ever knew the truth.
For he had never killed a foe,
Nor committed regicide.
When the call to arms was heard,
He chose to run and hide.
[QUOTE]One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret,
Never to be told.[/QUOTE]
I never thought it was about [URL="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One_for_Sorrow_%28nursery_rhyme%29"]magpies[/URL], it took me years to figure that out :v:
Something I didn't bother to finish
[QUOTE]Below the pale grey sky, a thin fog can be seen just below horizon. Our hero makes his way across the barren wasteland of past civilization as he spots an old bungalow just ahead of him.
Making his way up to the doorstep, a loud creak breaks the silence as his right foot reaches the wooden stair deck - the scattering of rats and cockroaches can be heard. He proceeds to place his hand on
the golden doorknob and turn it, slowly pushing forward until the door is opened; followed by another loud creak and the scurrying of rats. Our noble hero scans the first room - spotting an old record player covered in dust and cobwebs.[/QUOTE]
[code]Purple stars hover intermittently in the pale blue night
Like diamond studded light bulbs on a faraway wall
I wish sometimes that I could reach up and touch one
And know what it's like to dance among the stars[/code]
[code]It wasn't me, it wasn't you, it wasn't us, it wasn't them.
It wasn't this it wasn't that, it wasn't money for the gem.
Maybe it was just. Just just and only just and just for fun.
Just's not an excuse but it's always used to deliver one.[/code]
[code]A being occupies my time, but time is all I know.
The being is not fast but also never slow.
He is my true self, he takes all my time.
This being looks at me like a rope it may climb
[/code]
[code]Tribal time, shamanistic adventure
I explore myself and my surroundings
They explore me back with undying good vibes
We are one, and we are always together[/code]
[code]
Christmas time is back again, but back again too soon.
Felt like it was yesterday, i found myself in june.
Few reasons to keep working, until you came along,
thought that you could be all mine, but what i thought was wrong.
Although we want the same thing, from each other it won't come,
We wrote our song of friendship, and together we did strum.
We share our thoughts and notions, we faced our doubts and fears
Here's to a merry Christmas, and a forgiving New Years[/code]
[quote]“Damn” cursed Merchek. His hoe had wedged firmly in the ground after making a loud scraping sound.
“What is it?” Kibik asked with a tone of irritation. From the sound of it, it seemed like he’d hit something. It was most likely a rock, and probably a heavy one.
“It’s another rock in the soil Kibik, come over here.”
Merchek was a goblin, and like other goblins, he had a hard life. His thin linen coat attested to this, as did his woollen trousers caked in mud, irritating his skin until it became numb. His skin itself was calloused and thick.
“Easy, be careful” Merchek said. He held the sides, making sure his bruised fingers weren’t underneath. “If you don’t mangle my fingers, we could go out looking for mushrooms later”.
They slowly slid the rock out from the soft sticky soil, stepping over to a nearby cairn. They slowly staggered over, the weight of the rock causing them to stop for a few moments before lifting it up again.
“We grow more rocks than rye” Kibik sarcastically quipped. His loose grip caused the rock to shift, twisting and scraping the fingers on Mercheks hand.
“Careful you clumsy idiot” Merchek replied, throwing an angry glance at Kibik.
Heaving it up next to the cairn, Merchek almost leaped back after being relieved of the burden. He stretched and ran his hands over his back. Arthritis came early to goblins.
“Trust us to have this land. Not even good enough for pasture, let alone wheat.” Merchek mused.
He bent the fingers on his shaking hands and blew on them, before walking over to the field to pick up his wooden hoe. In a nearby pasture, he saw a sheep no bigger than a dog tearing at some grass, and shivering.
“I hope mum finishes my coat today.” Kibik grunted. He stopped for a moment to pull out a piece of cold bread to bite, the grit in the bread scraped along his enamel. Millstones weren’t renowned for their integrity. Neither were the mill owners.
“I’m looking forward to a nice drink myself Kibik. Maybe some mushrooms.”
The rays of the sun were bright, with dew shimmering around the goblins hacking away at the soil in the fields. It was the time of year to prepare the land for sowing, and to make offerings to the local goddess of fertility. This year, they had a few bags of beans spare. The sun crawled above the village into the sky, struggling as much as anyone else.
“Noon. I think we should go for a break” Merchek announced to the goblins working in the field. He walked over and urinated on an anthill, giggling to himself. The others noticed and joined in, flooding the ants with a strong smell of sulphur. Kibik stamped on what remained, before wiping his foot on the grass.
“Gees us a piece!” shouted one of the smaller goblins.
“Shut up I’m getting it.” Merchek sliced up a lump of bread with his knife, and gave out pieces to each of the goblins there. He was trusted to keep food safe, and had gone hungry in the past doing so.
“We’ve got enough, stop pushing you little bastard” Merchek punched another small goblin, and it seemed to quiet him down. They snatched the chunks of bread and had different ways of eating them. Some liked to gobble them down as fast as possible, while others slowly nibbled and chewed it throughout the day.[/quote]
A piece of writing im testing to see if I can write some alright prose.
I've been trying to write a novel recently. This excerpt was from the first draft of the first chapter. I've since completely thrown out this scene and rearranged the characters (the main character here is now a side character). But I still like this scene, so I thought I'd share it.
[quote]Whoever invented elevator music ought to be shot, Nick Moretti thought to himself, as he rode alone in an elevator heading for the top floor. The procedurally generated music wafted from the sound strips lining the inside corners of the lift while Nick tapped his foot with a combination of nerves and impatience. The ride from the basement of the Earth Intelligence Bureau building where he worked to the Director's office was a long one, so Nick had ample time to examine the cold, featureless interior of the elevator, which matched the cold, featureless music.
At last, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, revealing the secretary's desk and waiting room. Nick had never been up here before, and he found the contrast striking. The room was warm and comfortable, with wood paneling, maroon carpeting, plush armchairs, and antique paintings lining the walls. Nick stepped in and walked over to the secretary. She spoke without looking up.
“Moretti, 0900?”
“Ah-- yes.”
“Go on in.”
Nick looked at his watch. It read 0847.
“Slow morning?” He said, trying to be conversational.
The secretary looked at him, but without moving her head, which gave her the appearance of a glare. She said nothing. Nick abandoned his attempt at conversation and went inside.
Nick had never spoken to the Director before, though he had seen him from a distance during agency events. He was surprisingly slender, despite having been a field agent for many years. An older gentlemen, his full head of hair was now a distinguished gray. At first glance, his manner may have seemed buffoonish yet affable to some. But to those familiar with his record, he was fiercely intelligent. As a field agent, he accomplished every mission without taking a single life, human or alien, an incredible feat as any field agent would attest. They would say killing was unavoidable in this line of work, yet Doyle found a way to avoid it. His charisma and impeccably clean record made him the natural choice for Director. His appointment by the President was politically safe and uncontroversial. Yet, leadership did not suit Doyle perfectly. As was made clear by his time in the field, he always had difficulty playing the bad guy when he needed to. Rumor had it that the Deputy Director filled that role for him remarkably well.
The Director's office was large, almost obscenely so. The room was circular, with the same maroon carpeting as the waiting room. The Director's mahogany desk was placed near the back of the room opposite the entrance, with several couches making a semi-circle in front of it. There were no other furnishings to be seen. The curving walls were actually windows made up of a single continuous glass pane that could double as a display. At present, Director Doyle was flipping through various preset backgrounds and discussing them with a woman Nick did not recognize, but assumed was the Deputy Director. Neither of them noticed Nick enter.
“What do you think? What mood should we go for?” The Director flipped to a view of the Himalayas. “Ooh, that's nice. Kind of calming, isn't it?”
“Yes, sir.” said the woman, “it's quite nice.”
“You're right, we don't want him to be too calm. Have to impress upon him the seriousness of the matter at hand, don't we? How about this?” The scene changed to an erupting volcano.
“Looks fine, sir.” said the woman, a notable sigh in her voice.
The Director again ignored her. “Nah, too serious. What about this one?” The windows turned into a giant shark tank. “That's a nice balance. How about that?”
“Yes, sir, let's go with that.” The woman rolled her eyes, and doing so noticed Nick standing awkwardly behind one of the couches.
“Good morning,” she said, “How long have you been there?” Director Doyle whipped around in surprise.
“Only a moment.” Nick answered, “Sorry to surprise you, the secretary just sent me in.”
The Director put the remote down on the desk. “Not to worry, we were just testing the new windows. Maintenance just installed them last night. Please, have a seat.”
Nick walked around the back of the couch and sat down. The Director sat behind his desk and the woman stood just behind him and to his left. Nick realized that where he was sitting was probably a bit too far away for comfortable conversation, but worried moving closer would be embarrassing.
The Director activated his desk's holographic display and pulled up a file, which Nick recognized from the other side as his own dossier.
“Agent Guglielmo Moretti, 38 years old?” the Director asked, by way of confirmation.
“Yes, sir. But I prefer to go by by middle name.”
Director Doyle looked back at the file. “Nicolas?”
“Yes, sir. 'Nick' is fine too.”
The Director nodded thoughtfully while still examining Nick's file. “This is Deputy Director Samantha Tillman, by the way, I don't believe you've met.”
“We have not.” said Nick. Deputy Director Tillman nodded cordially. Nick nodded back and took in her appearance with a quick glance. She was average height, and despite the professional business suit she was wearing, Nick could tell she was powerfully built. Her dark hair was cut short just above the jawline, and her features were thin and sharp. Behind her eyes Nick saw a certain coldness which told him that, unlike Doyle, Tillman had killed before.
The Director continued. “Your record indicates that you served in the United Earth Army for six years. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Saw combat on several occasions, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where?”
“Mostly on the border worlds, sir. Halbon, Telstar, Ming-Hua.”
Director Doyle nodded as Nick named each planet, still reading the file. “Good. We need someone who's had combat experience. Particularly with the Auryns.”
Nick said nothing, waiting for the Director to continue.
“Went to college after, I see. University of Sri Lanka, majored in xenoanthropology with a concentration in Auryn culture. Hm, no wonder we hired you.”
Again, Nick said nothing.
“And you've worked for the Agency for eight years as an analyst, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Director whisked the display to the side with a motion from his hand and picked up a computer tablet. He spoke with a practiced formality, “Before we begin, I must inform you that the contents of this meeting are classified top secret. You are authorized to discuss this information only with the personnel present, and other authorized personnel who we designate. If you agree to receive this information, then you are responsible for keeping it confidential. Failure to do so will result in your prosecution. Do you agree to receive this information?” The director held out the pad's biometric reader.
Nick walked to the desk. He hesitated. “I agree.” he said, and pressed his thumb on the pad's reader. The pad took his fingerprint and DNA sample.
Nick went back to his seat while Director Doyle confirmed Nick's bio-signature and set the pad down on the desk. “Agent Moretti, I'll get to the point. We're making you a field agent and assigning you to a new mission.”
Nick didn't know how to react. He felt a mixture of excitement and worry. “What's the mission, sir?” he asked.
Deputy Director Tillman answered. “The recovery of Dr. Patricia Stein.” she said, “I'm sure you're familiar with her work as a prominent xenoantropologist. She was sent on a mission a few years ago to gain insight on the nuances of Auryn culture. She's been missing since the Auryn military took the Earth embassy on Riahl. She possesses intelligence on the aliens which the agency would like recover. At the very least we would like to confirm her death.”
“Riahl? That was years ago. Why now?” asked Nick.
“We have been looking for her since the embassy attack. However, we have recently gained a new lead on her status and location. With your combat experience and insight into Auryn culture, you are best qualified for this mission.”
Nick knitted his eyebrows, “Best qualified? I've been behind a desk for eight years.”
“Forgive me,” said Tillman, “Best qualified out of the current candidates.”
“What about our other agents?”
Doyle gave an uncomfortable glance at Tillman, but remained silent. Tillman raised an eyebrow, “They are all on other assignments or dead.” she said.
Nick addressed the Director this time. “So you think I have the best chance at succeeding?”
The Director opened his mouth as if to answer, then closed it again. He looked at Tillman to answer.
Tillman paused. “We expect you'll at least make progress.”
Nick felt like making a smart comment, but refrained.
Tillman reached into her pocket and pulled out a small metal disk, about two inches in diameter, with a glass lens in the center. “No further details will be given to you at this time. All the mission data is contained in this Artificial Agent. It will provide you with information and guidance as you go along. For now, you are to see the quartermaster for equipment issue, then board a transport to Ovid Station in the morning.” She walked over to Nick and handed him the disc.
Nicked turned the disc over in his hand, “Ovid Station? Where's that?”
“It's a trade station on the fringe of Union space, near the upper border with the independent systems.” She returned to her place. “No more questions, Mr. Moretti. The A.I. will tell you what to do when you get there.” Tillman nodded to Director Doyle, who took that as his cue to speak again.
“Good luck, Agent Moretti, he said, “You're dismissed.”[/quote]
I posted this in Creationism Corner a while ago, but here in GD it might get a bit better exposure. The prologue to a fantasy novel I'm working on on-and-off:
[url=https://www.dropbox.com/s/ehp7r5guvbyoxqs/00-prologue.pdf?dl=0]Linking to Dropbox since it's 7 pages long[/url]
It's kind of outdated; I've changed my intentions for the story a bit since I wrote this. But comments & criticism on my writing technique and characterisation would be appreciated.
Posted this in the dream thread. I never get really weird dreams, but it's dreams that have connections at some point. They're like the Marvel movies or comics, some of these individuals never interact, at least not now until the dreams get to that point. Here's a brief something that went in one of my dreams:
[QUOTE]I had a dream where I was a leader of a 300-ish mercenary band in a big High Fantasy setting that looked like a mixture of Tolkien and Greek Mythology. We got word that a corrupt army of men were marching towards a town full of centaur. The Iron Highwaymen(Our band) got there first and helped prepare the centaurs for the attack. My men made a shield wall to defend the town, with my archers covering long distance, while I rode with the fastest centaur in the town.The first time I almost got on her back she shook me off. The townsfolk said that only the most worthy can ride her into battle,and she was apparently the town leader's daughter. Desperate times called for desperate measures as we put aside culture to battle the oncoming threat. As the enemy army came over a hill to attack us, their leader Galva of the Darklands observed his men in action and boosted their morale. With the army of corrupt men held back by our shield defenses, the centaur and I charged forward in a arrowhead formation and leaped over the shield wall and broke the enemy's own formation while Riders of Doom was playing as our wartune([url]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onGWF8mz1Zw[/url]). As the enemy scattered, we picked them off one-by-one until Galva ordered a retreat. We won with surprisingly no casualties with only a few injured. The townsfolk thanked us and paid us in gold before we departed for the road. When the town was almost out of sight, the town leader's daughter came to see me and wanted to join us in defeating this new dark enemy. We let her join and we set off to new lands to spread word of this new enemy of the world and defeat this evil no matter the cost.
The story continues another time...[/QUOTE]
I really don't want to go into more detail than "This thing happened, then this person became bad-ass." I tend to be really bad at coming up with all the little dialogues and movement that happen in my tales on my own. This is one of the few "story dreams" that I get, but where they go I don't even know. I plan to turn ONE of these stories into an SFM animation.
[QUOTE]Killer, thriller, cold blooded beasts
Looking for something young to feast
Stop right there said the man in the tree
Those colours on his head as he set free
Tied to a noose for the long drop
I am of no use as long as they don’t stop
Walking by private Garrels, what do I see
Three long barrels on the end of me
My body says to run like fuck
But my mind says hide and duck
Run run run run run run run run
Hide hide hide hide hide hide hide
[/QUOTE]
Ehh
Here's a couple of rough scribblings. There is no doubt in my mind that they suck, but I would like to know how badly they suck.
[QUOTE]She Yearned to force herself upon him
The fever betrays the shadow of her phallic shaft to the dim, effervescent moonlight
He feels unaware, lying with sheep intestines inside
The impact of true love is not lost, nor impressed on either of them [/QUOTE]
[QUOTE]You remind me at times like these
Use the mouth guard your dentist furtively slipped you under the desk
Carry stress in the jaw
The mere notion of oral decay could drive one past the isles of sanity
[/QUOTE]
[QUOTE]You remember and internally cringe
Has life always been this way?
Complaining would be asinine
Such sophomoric sentiments were left with that damned square cap [/QUOTE]
[QUOTE]Tired of dreaming of sleep
Tired of the muscles' aching muzzles
Tired of rationalizing
Tired of lying to me
She rise up[/QUOTE]
[QUOTE]Mary was always so kind and accommodating
She bore no passing resemblance to Jezebel or Teresa
Being one in the same entity
Mark was ever the optimist
He found the bullet hole to be charming and quirky
Like rain on his wedding day[/QUOTE]
bump because it must live
Writing something a bit cyberpunk-esque, in three perspectives:
[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/18xhFH6pM9G_7Aujw3lvqVOoenwncxbRh8BIcxrPdDAA/edit?usp=sharing]Perspective 1[/url]
[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ex65ebyimMLBzAhB2Hfto6L0gzjdl8FonX6fVcKE26k/edit?usp=sharing]Perspective 2[/url]
[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cWdG-frnp15GPG7Dq1p-J0GXCqypOaiHbwxUeC7-dV4/edit?usp=sharing]Perspective 3[/url]
Something sci-fi-ish:
[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1blw_aHlNX2a59zX0Ey1sidxZyITvOFQxlnRe345bEz4/edit?usp=sharing]Xetune[/url]
A short story that's just a bit ridiculous:
[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AFJjUekDulgCAEjl-Xx8Vo_neihRXwa19u_QHvkMVXs/edit?usp=sharing]Fucking Magic is Fucking Real[/url]
Something I wrote with some prompts from /tg/:
[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1t2NHMxMrQ-ou_TekcYuBBBoHIXEsjA-Ig8hPqzEiJsY/edit?usp=sharing]/tg/[/url]
And I wrote some detective-noir type stuff a few years ago:
[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/12jmmShPNPVaO_AKwEMPSx9M5BN3cIMf_r_SQpW9S10g/edit?usp=sharing]Detective-Noir[/url]
As you can see, I don't finish a lot of what I start.
I think I'm gonna get a journal and write down what goes on during these dreams of mine. It's bound to make sense once I have it written down.
oh, neat, a thread that i could never get going properly on /lit/
well, may as well post the random shit that came to my head at one time or another.
[quote]
As I reach for the glass
I feel Death's cold restraint upon me
The water displaces and my mind
Begins to melt
Surely this is not an end but a
New beginning?
Darkness fades and light flashes
And not all the colors of the
Rainbow can stop me from this
Flight
No, for the Moon above and the
Earth below I shan't make haste
Life is inevitable[/quote]
and a little something i thought up a bit more recently
[quote]The answers to our lives have been in front of us since day one. It is we who have chosen to look away from the light and plunge headfirst into the bowels of darkness.[/quote]
So for my Ethnic Studies class I took last term, we had the option of writing a short story or do a research paper for our final assignment and I chose the story option because I had other research papers I needed to work on.
The specific field my class was doing was Contemporary Native American Literature, this assignment helped me get an A in the class.
[url]https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B3A8ljVKYpbwS3hJaEM3b2VLRU85cmxXZVhaQlJ3Q1p2Snpz/view?usp=sharing[/url]
Did it in a week, wonder what you guys though of it.
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