IndyDDR.com

hey-

since fiction writing is AWESOME, be it fanfiction or original, post whatever you've got here. it doesn't even have to be fiction: just ramblings or some written whatever can work too.

have fun!

~cecily

here's one of mine. sappy, yes. retarded, hell yeah. but i was dealing with a son-of-a-bitch guy. so here we go:

He's tall, dark, & handsome, with coffee eyes and cinnamon skin, and unruly hair with a dark twist. Power beads cling to his wrist, and his vintage tennis shoes are topped with faded brown corduroy pants and a t-shirt proclaiming the beauty of Earth. His style, however, doesn't hold a candle to the expression in his eyes. They're intense, and you can sense that they see right into your soul...or at least your own pair of chocolate eyes, staring back at him.

He loves only a few material things: his guitar, his Bible, and his journal, where he writes his songs and powerful poetry. He's heartfelt but somewhat introverted, and has a burning desire to protect those whom he loves and those things that he believes.

His hands are soft except at the fingertips, where his guitar strings have left their mark. You can feel them every time they hopefully brush against your fingers, when they stroke your back in a friendly hug and when they cup your face for a deep kiss. To him, every touch is meaningful and an expression of love you share. He carries more respect for you than any royalty, and the day you would leave him would be the day he dies inside.

And that one night at the park, when the night had yawned across the sky and the heavens gazed down upon you, he whispered in your ear that you were his soul. Would you spend forever with him? You laughed softly and told him that you were only in high school but he didn't want to hear that, so he cut you off with a sweet kiss.

He and you are the artwork, the very image of the love emblazoned on this world of sadness and war. And you both know one thing without a doubt: that even if you don't spend eternity together, eternity will always remember the two children who gazed at her so fondly.

Ah, fiction....the world I live in, it seems. I tend to be long winded, but here's a small excerpt from a novel I'm writing.


For some reason it was then that I became aware that I indeed existed. I felt that I had a body, that my feet were upon the ground, and that the hair on my head shifted in the breeze, swaying across my brow and falling before my eyes. My gaze tilted to the sky above, watching as dark shapes, clouds, moved across the blackness of the sky, being illuminated in silvery light as they passed by the full moon. Something moved, drawing my attention away from the lazy clouds. A flicker of being, a faint light, there and then gone once more, swallowed by darkness. Then again, the faint pin prick of light came, only to be drowned away seconds later. Soon more joined their blinking companion, not in unison, but in a complete random sense, moving slowly, drifting languidly through the night air.
Fireflies, hundreds of them, lazily floating about the hill top, their golden beacon flashing. I stood and watched, somehow transfixed in the incessant flicker. Once again, I let my gaze wander to the sky, watching as some of the small lights drifted overhead, silhouetted by the silver light of the moon, until they let out their own contrasting glow. Time lulled to a memory, and the feeling of true existence wavered. Then something came to my ears.
A faint sound, a soft whisper of something came to my attention. At first I was unsure if even I had heard it. Perhaps it was simply another trick of this strange, surreal environment. Unsure, I opened my ears to listen. For a time, only the faint drone of the crickets sounded, casting it's own personality upon the scene. Then, the sound came again, and I turned to look about. It was faint, as before, yet slightly louder. I followed my ears to it's source, turning towards the tree at the crest of the hill. It was there that I saw her.
A lone figure, a girl, sat upon the mossy rock beneath the sheltering branches of the blossoming tree. A long gown of the purest white she was clad within, being tied around the waist with a pearl white sash, it's bow across the small of her back. Her skin was beautifully pale, a succulent tone that seemed to gather in the silvery light of the moon. Long black tresses fell far below her shoulders, the shimmering raven strands hanging almost to her waist, shifting in the gentle breeze. Her face was held in her hands, her head hung, the sounds of gentle sobbing now clearly audible.

This will make sense to basically no one, unless they've lucked out and stumbled upon http://www.kingdomofloathing.com - I waste far too much time in this silly game, and this was written for a literary amusement contest on the forum.
***note, meat is the currency of the kingdom, and I won. ;p

-------------

I need your meat, for hospital bills.

This tale is true, in it's entirety. I swear upon the face of Sneaky Pete.

I couldn't resist the allure of those damnable lucky surprise eggs. I had only one desire, my very own Tiny Plastic Susie. Alas, my stomach's groaning and my wallet's desperate pleas forced me to give up the quest. So, I drank. I drank long, and hard. I drank as any man would, when bidding farewell to a dream.

Whats this? An Idea? In my drunken stupor, I realized I could do better than a Tiny Plastic Susie; I could have the real thing, if only for a night! I've suffered her wiles before, not to mention her right hook. But, that night was THE night. My mixture of moxiousness and despair must've done the trick. We returned to my charming house, for a nightcap, and more.

Yes, you heard me right. I succeeded where every other man of loathing has failed. I bedded the fair Susie! Yet, my sense of accomplishment was fleeting; this very morning, she was gone. She left me a memento, a single chocolate egg with that oh so familiar cloverleaf pattern scribed upon it.

My memory is hazy, did I lay my woes upon her? Has she deigned to give me my true desire? I bit into the delectable morsel with gusto, and this is what I found:

Tiny Plastic Syphilis.

We Disco Bandits know well to watch for this word, and I recoiled in horror. Thinking quickly, I sought to put my one of a kind item on the market, but it wasn't to be! My Tiny Plastic Syphilis was untradable! I went to weep in the restroom, when I realized something wasn't right. What good is Moxie if it burns when you pee?

I knew what I had to do; I had to visit a dangerous associate, smack dab in the middle of the wrong side of the tracks. He's a tricky one, hiding in plain sight and all, but I found him, and I told him my sordid story. He told me that I should've known that Susie's treats are tricks, that there is a reason I didn't know of, that no man goes where I ventured. A reason I now knew. My only hope lies with the mafia penguins, and only he knew where they were. I will have to pay him one million meat, to be free of my Tiny Plastic Torture.

originalsin - i love your style. email me when you get published, k?
soma - wtf...

here's the first page of the first chapter of a book i started but never finished. i never have the discipline to finish my novels...


It was a wood of crystals, pure and sweet. The light played through them like fairies, dancing around the forest floor and into her eyes. She watched them eagerly, her eyes starved for light, but when she reached to touch the first tree it shattered. She threw herself onto the ground, but to no avail. Tiny pieces of crystal wildly pierced her skin, the blood flowing onto the forest floor. Eyes widened in surprise, she began to cry and wipe the blood from her arms. It smeared all over her and she cried harder, her sobs echoing through the forest of light. The pure white ground was stained with crimson blood.

Yet she didn't cry for long, the wood so hypnotized her. Her hurt gasps and cries gradually became softer, and her eyes became hungry and yearning once more. It was a suffocating blanket of wanting, covering her mind, blinding her to the blood still escaping her body. She reached for another tree. This one shattered with flying, explosive force much more than the first, and the tiny, sharp beauties pierced all over - her eyes, her hands, her chest, her legs, her cheeks, her lips. She cried out desperately but the pieces continued to fly, and crystal flew into her mouth, the blood flowing out onto her face. She was a crimson demon in a forest of sad white beauty.

But the light, the light; her hands were no longer hers, her feet had abandoned her, and they raced all over, groping, grabbing, pulling, and the forest was gone and she couldn't see for blood and beauty and she fell onto the forest floor, gasping yet choking because of the lights in her mouth. All she could think of was the pain...the pain...

As she lay dying, the blood flowed onto the white ground, spreading out in tiny lines and forming intricate designs, bright red on the pure white. She breathed, deep, ragged, breaths, and with a panicked, heavy dread she could sense new trees steadily rising over her, fed from the life of the blood she had spread so liberally. Though her body was spent, she felt the madness once more creep into her bones to seize the light and tried to scream, tried to scream, but it was caught in her throat and she coughed more blood and glass as the crystalline trees grew over her head. Like lighting the madness took over and she reached one hand into the white sky, one shaking, raw, blood-soaked hand, and she heard the deafening sound of the shattering of a thousand jagged trees.

Sara screamed and sat up in her bed, feeling the blood pouring down her face. She ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. It was just a bad nosebleed, and her hand shook wildly and she tried to stop it. The tissue could not stay on her nose she shook so hard, and her breathing was ragged, her eyes panicked. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as the blood kept flowing.

Slowly she sat down on the cold bathroom floor, her back against the wall. She breathed in through her mouth, several long, though broken, breaths, as the blood entered her mouth as well. Finally her hand steadied a little and she could stop the bleeding. Sara slowly stood up and looked at herself again in the mirror.

She was a spectacle. Her face was covered in red blood, some of it wet and some not, and you could see the red trails down her neck and onto her pajamas. Her hands were covered in blood as well, a little up to her elbows. Her breath was almost back to normal, and the crazed look had left her eyes. It wasn't real.

Sara's dreams were often intense, but nothing like this one. If she closed her eyes she could still feel in her mind the sandstorm of crystals, she could hear the shattering trees and she could feel the panic, the blood, the pain. But it was just in her mind.

She strained her ears and listened to the sounds of the upstairs of her house. From her parent's room there was a heavy, contented snoring. A sigh of relief burst from her trembling lips. They were still asleep. Doubtless her brother was as well.

She stripped her blood-soaked clothes and took a long, hot shower. The terror that had gripped her so tightly gradually loosed itself and flowed away, down into the drain and out of her mind. The pink water became clear, and Sara dried herself off and put on her favorite fleece pajamas. They were soft and comfortable, yet Sara couldn't completely relax.

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Damn, thats good....

I dident know you wre so acomplished Cecily....let me read some more of your stuff eh? Maybe when I get some balls Ill post some of my musings...

..

Yes, she is good. I particuarly like the dream of the crystal forest...creative, and yet sort of ironic. So beautiful, yet so deadly.
I suppose I'll contribute something else. This is from the same novel as the first excerpt, except this one is quite a bit more graphic.

There was a table, or rather a large rectangular engraved block of wood, near the center of the room. A cloth lay over it, and on top of that cloth, I saw the girl once more. She lay on her back, unmoving, her hands clasped on her stomach. I moved towards her slowly, the candle light shifting, casting deep shadows across the walls of the room. I approached her, peering over her cautiously.
Her eyes were closed, her long dark lashes together beneath her closed eyelids. Her pale skin gathered the faint light of the room, shifting tones as the playful candle light flickered. She did not move. Was she dead? I couldn't tell. Curiosity took hold of me, and I hesitantly raised my head, extending it slowly towards her. My outstretched fingers moved forward, only inches from her body.
An ear shattering scream lifting into the room, and I reared back, watching as she lurched upward, her delicate lips separated in pain. She wailed, a deep unknown pain tossing her body back down onto the alter she laid on. She writhed, her scream fading away for a moment, her eyes fluttering open. A tear slid down her pale cheek, her eyes falling upon me, as I watched in horror. Her hand reached out to me. Her strength sapped by her writhing body, she could barely keep her arm out. She cried, a pained groan beneath her breath, before her teeth clenched and her eyes fell closed again.
Her body convulsed, twisting in pain as she screamed once more. Her back arched, her limbs twisting, spasming in uncontrolled, quavering movements. The front of her gown split open, as a dark shadow stained the white fabric. A deep, crimson liquid poured forth from un unknown wound in her chest, quickly turning her torso a dark, bloody red. It dripped down her pale arms, as her twisting, writhing body fell back onto the alter, her head laying back, her scream fading. I moved forward, as if I could do anything for her, and met her gaze. She stared up at me, her eyes barely open, her lips parting as if to speak. Only a soft gurgle escaped those lips, as blood spilled from the corner of her open mouth. She struggled to move, the muscles in her body clenching and relaxing slowly, her strength quickly fading. I felt something tug at my clothing, looking down to find her fingers curled around the bottom of my shirt. She tried to hold on to me, but the last of her life left her, her fingers losing their grip, her hand falling limply down beside her, leaving her bloody hand print on my shirt. I looked back to her face, her eyes still open, staring back at me with that cold, dead stare. I felt my body tremble. What just happened? She died before me, but why? What. . . Before I could further contemplate the situation, the world flashed.
Fire. Bright, curling tongues of flame licked up across the chamber, somehow instantly igniting everything. The paint on the walls peeled, the tapestries withered to ash, and the floor and ceiling blackened. I felt heat and pain wash over my body, and I fell to my knees, unable to move. Brighter and brighter the flames grew, until suddenly everything collapsed, instantly, as the world fell away.

wow. that was crazy...

do you have any finished work? i'd like to read it.

The work I've been posting from is nowhere near finished yet, but I've got plenty of short stories floating around on my hard drive.

hey, i'd love to read them. can you pm any?

Bump!

OMG I GOT A PIECE OF FICTINO

omg one time this bird flew into this house and went to this lady and was like CUCKO CUKCO and thne the lady like choped its head off and then like her husband came home and ate it

Snap.