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| 14 Feb 2012 08:02 PM |
INTRO A tall, old man stands, brushing any possible unseen dust from the pants of his suit, which looks quite more like a tuxedo, fancy enough to ask his lover with him on a romantic evening of champagne and moonlit waters. He is careful, as walking around it, not to touch his feet to the low, glass coffee-table barely a foot from his short-legged chair he had previously been seated apon. As this is seen, I notice him lift his right shoe and tap the toes of it against the red carpet. A reflex, I imagine, to keep himself from tracking dirt around in large, dusty footsteps on a carpet such as clean as this one. Holding his glass loosely, he slowly walks himself - No, not Slowly... /Patiently/ walks himself closer to the brick fireplace, it's flames casting a red glow over the room, giving it a comfortable, home-like setting. The long, black couch on which I sit shifts as I do. "Steven." He begins. "It's truly not that I have anything against you, I actually beleive we were at one point good friends. It's just that I-" A short pause as he thinks over what he will say. "That /you/ are no longer of use."
"My name is Philip." I quickly say. I am nervous, but it does not sound over my robotic voice. I am not shaking, as I feel I would be. I am looking him directly in the eye. But, it's not as though I have any choice over this. I can barely move, with my semi-paralysis. I can only speak through a computer. If he wished to kill me now, I could not fight back.
"Yes, yes. /Philip./" He tests, sounding as if he cares even in the slightest. "But, Philip, it is not as though I can allow you freedom after what you have seen, what you have taken place in."
I understand.
"But, it is not the end for you. What you have done, what you have taken place in, it will live on throughout the world forever."
I interupt before he can continue. I don't want to hear anymore. "Goodbye." I speak.
Hearing this, he pauses. For a breif moment, as he looks down in self-disgust, I feel pity for him, even though he will walk out that door and I will not. But as he looks into my eyes, I see he is truly evil. Enjoying this, even. He picks the Champagne on the table, smashes it through the glass. Then, calmy as he walks out, he pours the al.coholic liquid in his glass into a neat line towards the warm flames infront of me. I close my eyes, hear the door shut behind him.
"Goodbye." My computer repeats. |
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| 14 Feb 2012 08:08 PM |
(Argh.
I had forgotten, but I was going to add to the villian's speaking, after Philip says 'Goodbye', the first time, "And, for you, with any luck I won't see you down there when it's my time.") |
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Pruz
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| Joined: 11 Nov 2009 |
| Total Posts: 31781 |
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| 14 Feb 2012 08:17 PM |
(More like... [DECLASSIFIED.] Joke.)
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ifavila
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| Joined: 11 Mar 2010 |
| Total Posts: 3334 |
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| 14 Feb 2012 08:18 PM |
So.
Nice story you got there. |
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| 14 Feb 2012 08:32 PM |
| I'm not sure if I should continue... |
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ifavila
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| Joined: 11 Mar 2010 |
| Total Posts: 3334 |
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| 14 Feb 2012 08:52 PM |
:D
CHAPTER ONE: Comming soon to a forum near you. |
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| 14 Feb 2012 09:06 PM |
I had three forums near me.
One exploded. Another exploded. The third was swallowed by a fish. A fish that went oink, as Link put it.
So, yeah. I'm screwed.
Unless I visit this one. Yes, this one is suitable, as long as you bring me a juice box. |
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| 14 Feb 2012 09:10 PM |
Chapter One
Raven
The rain comes, as expected, in the dark of night. Unseen, but heard as though thunder erupting from every rooftop in a half-mile radius. Outside, all is damp. No spot left untouched by the cold tears of the sky. I hide in comfort inside my room, under covers with a light and a book. William Shakespear's original quoted Summer Night's Dream. Of all the things int he world, this probably make the least sense to me. Right above magical ponies and glitter on my list of pointless things, but I have little freedom to stretch my wings from the grasp of parents and adults and school. And, even if it were possible, I don't think anyone would allow it. My wings are not those of a beautiful dove or a fantastic peacock or free bluebird. They take more in form of a bat, or a mosquito.
I read on, boring of the senseless text that continues, it's finish unthinkable. I take a pen and begin drawing beasts on the blank edge of the page.
I feel as though tonight will never end.
Suddenly, a clap of thunder and striking blue lightning. I jump to the suddeness, getting out of bed to see, my fuzzy blue pants I use only for sleeping dragging behind, and the legs are far too long.
Out the window, lightning strikes continuously. Not you average freak lightning storm, but a new breed.
Colors flash down, destroying phone wires with their rays of pink, and striking houses with blues and greens. A hard patter of wind and rain fly in through my window, spraying my face. I quickly reach up, struggle momentarily with the lock, finally closing the window.
I run over, behind my bed and under my writing desk I hide from the danger outside. I feel like a little girl again, afraid of such things, but this is worse. I know it.
I close my eyes and laugh nervously. I thought /Shakespear/ was bad. |
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| 14 Feb 2012 09:26 PM |
Nice story
(Throughs juice box at tie's head.) |
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| 14 Feb 2012 09:46 PM |
Chapter One Part Two
Jesse
I lie atop my bed, stomach down, feet up, scribbling uselessly into a notebook. A clumsy sketch of dark, jet black clouds over a depressed girl. Streaks of bright, electric colors rain down from the puffy black things. The girl dons an exascerbated expression of annoyance. I laugh at the silly drawing, as I posses little artistic skill and therefor my creations lack any seriousness.
It is late. I jump out of bed to take veiw of the window. At last, the rain has ended. I quickly run to the end of my bed, slipping on my fluffy, sky-blue slippers that match my pink and white fuzzy pajama pants. I grab a thin jacket to put over my long-sleeved, pink shirt and run downstairs, taking on last moment to look back into my colorful room. Pea-green walls, with ocean-blue edges and corners, and a pink carpet. My bed has a large comforter consisting of many colors, reminding me of a bowl of fruit.
Finding my way to the door, I quickly remember to grab my keys.
I'm going out tonight! |
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| 14 Feb 2012 09:48 PM |
Oh, I'm sorry, we seem to be out of JuiceBoxes. What he had thrown at you must have been one of many from my miniature, painted cinderblock collection.
TheGuy does not in any way take liability over your definite and sudden death.
Thank you, and please enjoy your day. |
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| 16 Feb 2012 05:44 PM |
:D
Anyway, thinkin' up next peice... |
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| 17 Feb 2012 11:03 PM |
| THINK HARDER!! I say as I bite into a brick painted as a sandwich. "Ow." |
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| 17 Feb 2012 11:56 PM |
| You are mistaken, sir. That is a sandwich painted as a brick, painted as a sandwich! |
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