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Lord of that thing
The 2 companions laboured hard together, remembering the words of the white wizard. Stickel lead the 2 of them on. "Come master" Stickel motioned to the 2 Hoballs, "Stickel show you secret way..."
"Do we trust him?" Semense Gamjee cautioned his counterpart in alarming doubt.
"He brought us so far, Sem, we should trust him"
"Alright Mr Phucko, but I don't like this feeling" He lamented.
"We don't have a choice"
Stickel led the Hoballs into the deep dark cave where he entered first. Inside the cave was an unerving tightness and awry intensity that can be felt as they entered it. As they ventured a while into the cave, the moisture and humidity in the tunnels could be felt all over. It was difficult journey through the abyss because of the slippery surface that impeded their sacred voyage.
Suddenly, from the depths of the cave exploded the underground fluid that has in kept dormant for a long time. Stickel and the Hoballs tried to flee, but fate beckons that they were to suffer the moist atmosphere of the Kaz-Anak. The Undul-rim could not be trifled with, they suffered for many hours being washed down by the gush of cave fluid buried for years.
"Stickel, could you help us out of this cave!!??" Phucko exclaimed.
"Stickel can, but Stickel needs time."
"Then hurry you filthy maggot." Semense retorted in his usually swollen self.
Stickel climb to and fro, up and down the cave, looking for a solution to their hazard. At a quarter of a sunrise, stickel unleashed his only skill to save the Hoballs.
"Whell-em, whell-em" Stickel vomited and the discharge mingled with the cave fluid in a magical moment of brilliance. The cave quietens and it seems the world outside rested too.
"I never knew one corrupted by Saudom, could have us indebted to him one day." Semense gratefully panted.
"Thanks Stickel, your selfless act saved us getting stuck in this cave." Phucko smiled and hugged Stickel.
"Stickel swears to take care of master".
"I know" - Tears from the grateful phucko flowed.
"But there are many more caves ahead of us, master must rest!", Stickel reminded.
Thus the Hoballs and the dried up creature rested for 2 more days before trekking futher into the next cave.
- by F.U.Colkien
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Braavos36362 Posts
haha @ zorflax
you just QFT yourself
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yea that was weird
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props to zdd and hot_bid you guys are awesome writers :O
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Excuse me for the bump, but I never did finish a short story which I said I would. I've finished it. It's not one of my best pieces that I've written, but please bear with it.
The Quick Escape
Modern day 2007. A 22 year old man runs away the day before graduate school begins. Overwhelmed by his struggles, he releases his deep-seated angst in his thoughts driving with half a tank full of gas before an empty, desolate road located in the middle of nowhere - exactly the place where the man escapes to from reality.
Several months had passed, and I have yet to unload the burden I've carried on my chest. I do not speak literally, for I carried very little with me during my quick escape from my daily life at my humble abode back in Arizona. Here I am now, driving my 98' Honda accord, putting countless miles behind me and my present (now past) life as a prospective biologist. I've always thought I was supposed to be just that - a biologist. Living according to my parents' desires, I felt obliged to study hard and earn myself a distinguishable title with a pH.D in Entomology - a field in insect study. I graduated from Northern Orthodox University, a well known school in my area specializing in sciences.
However, I must be fair; I did not earn this Biology degree that I hold in my hands this very moment. I got by with the minimum effort required and graduated with a 2.4 gpa cumulative gpa. I never really liked studying; in fact, I hated it. I loathed academics to the extent that I would find myself doing ANYTHING to avoid cracking open a book or doing homework. My study-elusive activities ranged from watching cartoons on television to browsing through cyberspace on my cable-connected internet. Such is the life I've lived up to this point, struggling and despairing over studying about some uninteresting effects of bugs and what they can do for our ecosystem. This degree I have is worthless. It is nothing but a single sheet of paper with some bullshit written on it saying I did something I never really wanted to do or tried. It's just something my parents always wanted for me. Nothing more...
Whatever. It's all over now. Everything that I once knew is at least one thousand miles behind me. I've decided I had enough. I'm going to live my life however I see fit now. I care not for the consequences or what's going to happen from now on. As long as I don't have to return to THAT life. I'll just keep driving, never to face what I've always detested. Driving, rolling down the windows with my arm out and the cold wind hitting my face. Driving, to never see the day when I must come to terms with the Hell I've created for myself. Just driving...
The man lets go his degree and it flies out the car window, forever to be lost within the dark woods in the middle of nowhere
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Big chunks of irregular concrete blocks covered half the sky, zagged sunlights strikes pass the grey mountains, ziggidy bright lines etched on the ground like some ancient marks. He traveled onward into the cayon, feeling minute. "What is this world?" He remarked to himself, confused, tripped yet again on the concrete mountain, the ground is course and sandy. Not so far ahead a woolly creature lurks. It stretches for miles on end, he cannot see the edges extending from left to right. Hairy yet stiff, it sprayed itself across the mountains like a heavy cloud, supressing the airs and suffocsating the sunlights. He climbed upward, as usual, onto the giant woolly creature. Threads tangled his feet and his movment was inpedimented, but far ahead he could see a big white mountain, on top of the woolly creature, invitingly glossy. After about 1 hour trekking in the loose threads, as the shadows from the big tree leaves danced about the woolly creature, he reached the giant mountain. It smelled faintly... Finding grip is hard, for it is very smooth and glossy, however, he finds two highly frictional ropes hanging from the mountain top, no doubt left behind by the genius that previously visited the mountain. The ropes are huge, on it there were threads hanging loose also, but they do not tangle. He climbed and climbed untill finally reaching the top. He looked down and realized that the mountain is actually a vocato, with a huge cavaty down the center. Funny smells came from the vocano pit, so it seems...
He thinks to himself, "I must explore the vocano."
+ Show Spoiler + I opened the door Picked from the doormat, my shoe Hello there little fella! "Shoo!" A blow, off he goes to the floor "Bye bye" said I, and off I went
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.lol evan is soo good even his short stories sound like poems XD
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One often wonders why foreigners traveling to other countries did not approach their native finances in the same way they did abroad. Allot some money for a decent place to stay, save the rest for good food. Someone initially speculated it was because their minds were framed about avoiding the worry of enough money for a short period. But this was quickly bettered by the truth that a vacation or extended trip was a relatively short period compared to a lifetime, and that in the face of this longevity, planning ahead was overwhelming. Bulgakov? One wonders if he actually spent entire decades honestly revising his work, or if he was afraid that once it was finished he would have nothing left to do. Sure. Let’s have another drink. Kate was always so earnest it tickled me. And sometimes, after I had tired of masturbating to all the celebrities I could think of, there was Kate. I would imagine gripping that bun on the top of her head like a hold on a climbing wall while she sucked me off trying at the same time to ask me what I thought of her dissertation on Joyce. I hate English majors, so I think of it as sort of a compliment to her. She hovered next to me, holding an amaretto sour with a napkin underneath the glass, which she hadn’t touched. The next time she tries to say something, I’m going to interrupt her with why-hasn’t-she-touched-her-drink? Looking straight out from where Kate and I stood I can see that Herbert has settled in nicely with Ms. Kennamore under the giant crystal chandelier in the living room, it‘s so large and dangling that you can‘t comfortably stand underneath the bankrupt thing without imagining it crashing down on you. Why bring a seventh grade teacher to one of these things? All the professors in their professorial orbits, like magnets with only north poles, champagne laughing their way in and out interface with each other. Barely human, they maintained the absolute modicum of gender: the women had dresses or conservative skirts and make-up, the men had on slacks and an assortment of terrible ties. One imagines mating between to of these involving several large volumes of philosophy, and a protractor. The obvious question of why anyone would want to come notwithstanding, but these people sniff at genius to make themselves feel better. The pretty seventh grade teacher called Ms. Kennamore seems to be no match.
Sonny came in at the near exact moment I was finishing my whiskey. He was the kind of guy who succeeded because of his shabby looks. Everyone took his cheerfully rotten mouth as a true quality of his person. On more symmetrical face his mouth would’ve been taken as an affectation, as a way of buddying up with someone. He had hair the color of a sandy river bottom lit through with sunlight. And he had very bad acne which caused a frailty in his skin that had prematurely at twenty-one lined the sides of his mouth, only underneath his eyes was there anything youthful. He spotted Kate and I at the bar, and came our way.
“Hey how the fuck’s it going? It’s colder than shit out there, where can I get a drink?” We were at the bar. He paused to yank the empty glass out of my hand. He sniffed it, “Hey Kate, how are ya? Nick, you drinking whiskey?” I nodded. Kate excused herself. Sonny slammed the glass down on the bar in a way that let you know he never knew a quiet way to do anything. And I must admit, I was feeling not too very sober and quiet either. I signaled the bartender for Sonny, and I started, “This is Sonny, he’ll have ah, ah,” and made a shooing motion with my arms to give Sonny the responsibility of finishing the order. He asked for a whiskey, and I remembered that I needed one too so I called the bartender back over. Now that we were properly settled, I decided that Sonny should know how ugly all the girls were at the party, “See that one over there? She’s like Kelly Clarkson’s step sister, fatter and without the decency of being cute.” “I don’t get it.” “No?” “No. What does being anyone’s step sister have to do with how they look?” “It’s like a synonym for being one off of the original, and I personally feel that being a step-sister isn’t a very becoming title.” Sonny sniffed, “Yeah, okay.”
I did not notice he was almost finished with his drink.
“I thought it was funny.” “Of course. That’s why you said it. Don’t retire just yet though, the night is still plump with girls.” “Thoroughly.”
I check my watch, I told Jeremy earlier to swoop by the back door of the house if wanted any booze.
<Something cues the following, which should be strangely dreamlike.>
I notice the Depression period colored glass bottles in the pantry on my way out. Something about them is sublime and I feel warm and sedated. They come closer and closer, and I find myself trying to read words that run up along their sides, but I cannot. The letters are inside-out and illegible. I kick open the old kitchen back door and go out.
Jeremy is leaning against the house smoking a cigarette I gave him two days ago. “I see you still have that cigarette.” “Yeah, I wanted to have it with my drink.”
He is so debonair I wanted to fucking punch him in the face.
“That’s fairly debonair of you: a gentleman pursuing the finest things afforded to him by the generosity of others.” I think I have a strange look on my face as I hand him the whiskey, judging from his expression. I pull out my own cigarette, and put it in the corner of my mouth, light it and look up at him, “So what’s up bro, how‘s the ninth grade going?”
Jeremy cocked an eyebrow at me. “How’s that cigarette?”
Jeremy shrugs. Silence follows and he sniffs the crystal glass filled nearly to the brim, pauses, holds up the glass for a moment to look at it, and then takes a small slug.
I casually break in, “So have you seen Marta around?”
Jeremy looks away from me and shakes his head blowing out smoke, like he’s been smoking his whole fucking life. He’s too comfortable, the cigarette now has panache, it’s the way something becomes an extension of yourself with practice and his conversation between drags has rhythm.
“I haven’t seen her.”
“That’s too bad, maybe I’ll just go up to her and talk to her about it sometime.” After having said that I look up from the crack in the concrete walkway I was two-stepping with and grimace at Jeremy. He shrugs again.
“What’s with all the fucking shrugging tonight?” I shove him, and he rolls with it taking a few steps back.
“I dunno, it just seems like you’re in a bad mood and I don’t want to have fucking shit started.”
That’s amazing, but I am also in denial. I look around even though no one is there and take a step toward him so I can get right in his face.
“Ooh, such a big fucking mouth for a fourteen year-old, how ‘bout I fucking kick your ass?”
“Oh, you’re going to kick my fucking ass? Okay, fucking do it then. We’ll see what happens.”
I should mention at this point, that at fourteen, Jeremy is bigger than me at twenty-two. Just then Sonny pops out of the backdoor.
“Hey what the fuck Jeremy?”
I let go Jeremy.
“Hey Sonny.” I said.
“Hey.” Was he out of breath? “I just heard a bunch of fucking swearing out here so I decided to come check it the fuck out, you know?” I see Sonny give Jeremy a dirty look out of a loose fraternal loyalty he probably feels towards me, which makes me wince. Sonny, you stupid fucker.
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Belgium8305 Posts
I hate this fucking job. Only two hours in and already I've had three smokes. What was I thinking anyway? All I do all day is patrol this desolate strip of land and make sure nobody comes through. I can barely remember how long I've had this job and nobody ever even tried to pass by here. It makes sense, because there's simply nothing to see around here. At first, I figured the all the big pipes transported oil or something and that's why they needed to be guarded. Robbers, terrorists, hungry cars, whatever. I checked them out, though, and they're empty. Every single one. Some of them are so run down, they have flowers growing out of them. There's a big hole at one side of my strip, I'm not even sure how deep it is. I threw a coin down there once and didn't even hear it land. There are a few other guys somewhere back there. I've never even talked to any of them, but they seem to be doing the same job as me. Just back and forth, all day, every day. I'd love to go over there and have a chat, but I know I'd be fired in a heartbeat if I left my spot. Maybe they know what the point of all this is. The company that hired me made it look like it was a big deal. I didn't even care at the time, I simply welcomed the pay check. Not like I even had a choice: Lucille and the baby need a roof over their head and food on their plate. At least I'm not flipping burgers.
Wait, what was that? I'm pretty sure I heard a rumble. Something must be wrong, I can't see the other guards anymore. This is so typical. The one time something happens around here and I'm missing it. The rumbling's still here, though. I even think it's getting louder. Yeah, it's coming from that green pipe sticking out of the ground. Maybe it's a dog! It could have wandered in the other end of the pipe, wherever that is, and just kept going. I hope it's a golden retriever, they're pretty smart. I bet I could teach it a few tricks. "Here, doggy! I'll come help you out." Wait, those are hands. Somebody is trespassing. Christ, remember your training. Remember your training. What did they say? Don't let anybody through. This sucks, I don't even have a weapon. Oh God, he's out already. Actually, this guy seems alright. A chubby looking guy with a well-groomed mustache and a red plumber suit. A plumber, that would explain why he came out of that pipe! "Hey buddy, what are you doing here?" He stares at me for a while, then slowly opens his mouth. "The princess, where-a is she?" "Princess? What princess? I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you took the wrong pipe!" I laughed. Did he sound Italian? Oh crap, he doesn't look too happy. In fact, he looks downright pissed. Without any further warning, he starts running at me. "Hold it, man! I can't help you! You're not even supposed to be here." Before I can even figure out how to react, he takes a big jump in the air. There's something unnatural about his jump, like he's using a trampoline. People can't jump that high. Plumbers can't jump that high. Nor can Italians. I think. As I look up, I see his massive silhouette dropping towards me. Right as his steel boots collide with my skull, I see Lucille laughing at me with her perfect teeth and her hazel eyes. I'm so sorry, honey. Raise our baby and keep him far, far away from plumbers, Italians or the goddamn Bowser company. I hate this fucking job.
+ Show Spoiler +
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hahahahahaha, nice mario reference -_-
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Korea (South)11558 Posts
I wrote this last monday when I was a little depressed.
To Be Evil
I am mentally and physically paralyzed. The death of those around me does nothing but bring more dread to the world that I know. I can hear the scream of grown men shouting at each other as if they never left the play ground in grade school. They are arguing about the most pointless trains of thought that is allowed to be comprehended. My back leans against the leather seat as I grasp the small pistol that will be a one way ride out of this shit hole. My father always hated people who were different. He would blame every financial problem he has had on those with a Jewish back ground. Maybe it is because his own mother had ignored him his own life. She was a Jew by the way.
My life has always been the same. I always could hear grown men ordering around others because they have their metal toys that distinguishes who has power. I will change it one day. I will stop this madness. I will make the world a better place. Not for me, no, it is impossible to make my world better. I will make their world more safe, more beautiful, more peaceful for every future generation. I will destroy those who want to send hate and pain to others. I will make it gone forever. I will make a utopia.
It has been way too long for living in this hell. The metal bars and the stone home surrounds me as if I am a snake at a local zoo. The squeals of young children terrified of my face only brings me another reason why this god forsaken place is nothing worth living for. It must be stopped. It must be changed. I must make this world something to live for, no, something to die for.
I hear the creak of the wooden door open as a young man is dragged in. His face is scattered with blood, his pants are torn, his shirt is gone. His bare skin is covered in scars and his fragile body has nothing to protect him.
“He was caught sir.” the words bring a smile to my face. Another person to fix. Another reason why this world is the way it is. I can not bring the world to euphoria with people always wanting to stop me. I shall demonstrate to everyone what the consequences are if they dare to question the authorities.
“Leave the room” I order to those who dragged the bastard in. I relish time alone with those I am about to mutilate and eventually remove from this plane of existence. The two guards drop the mans arms as one kicks the man in the ribs, and gallantly walk out of the room, softly closing the door behind them.
“What have you done? What in the world have you done you pea sized shit?” The words flow out of my face as I begin to remember my father who needed to be shut up. I killed him years ago. He questioned what I had to say about the world. I can't have people like that. I must have total control of the world to make it perfect.
The man doesn't look up. He is aware that he was caught, and I step on his bleeding hand that was giving him support to stop himself from falling. Screams of pain are sung to my ears, so I put more pressure onto the small piece of fuck that has been brought forth to me. I enjoy hearing the cries of my victims before they are met with the never ending scene of blackness.
This is what Aeschylus had always dreamed of. I notice numbers on his arm. How can he be one of them and still be alive? I must send him to the death before life. He is a disgrace to all human existence. I must demolish him.
I grab the arm that shows the truth about his life. He is the root of all evil. He is the reason why the world needs me. Tears cross his face and so I do what I must. I spit onto the curves of his head, and he just stands there looking down at the ground. Why will he not look at me? What does he have to fear? The conclusion to his existence is about to be finished. I grab the alcohol beverage that I was drinking and pour it down on his head, like a shower. The air is filled with the smell of beer. I must be getting drunk off of this because I can sense nothing. I can feel no pain, nor glee. I must be insane. The man looks at me in the face. His eyes sting me, as if he understands why I am doing what I am. I lift my match and flick it against the sole of my shoe. The flame is two inches from the man, and he does not blink. He looks at me in the eyes and says “Thanks for finishing the pain in my heart.” And I say nothing. I let the flame touch the alcohol drenched fragile body.
The man instantly is engulfed in flames, and he just stands there. He does not move. Eventually his arms fail and he falls to the ground. He is dead. One more piece of shit is removed. I sit back down at my desk and lean back. The only words that leave my mouth for the rest of that night is, “Man it's good to be Hitler.”
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