40 replies to this topic

[Aevin]

The old poetry thread has served us well, but I wanted something a little more inclusive. This is a thread for all kinds of writing. You can post poetry, fiction, scripts, essays, whatever you like! Express your creativity! If what you're sharing is more than about a page, please use spoilers. You can still view the poetry thread here.

 

You can certainly give and receive critique here. If you're sensitive about this, please say if you'd rather not receive criticism. Writing is about self-expression, so please be sensitive when discussing others' work.

 

I'll start us off with a snippet of something ...

 

Slowly, the monster's head turned, and it glared at him, sickly gray skin where its eyes should have been. It made no sound, but Holm could sense its rage at having its victims stolen from it.

 

That's right, he thought. Look at me, not them ...

 

It didn't just look. It stared, locking him with an eyeless gaze so intense he began to sweat. His wounds stung, and he took a moment to wipe blood from his cheek, his eyes never moving from the creature in front of him. He concentrated power in his left hand, felt it tingling there with electric force as he waited for the banshee to make its move.

 

Some of the people were watching them, gawking with uncomprehending faces. Idiots, he thought.

 

“Don't just stand there!” he shouted. “Get out of here!”

 

It was in that moment of distraction that the banshee's elastic jaw dropped wide open and it prepared to scream.

 

Holm's eyes widened, and out of sheer reflex he took aim and released the power he had gathered. A crackling, concentrated orb the size of a watermelon burst from his hand and soared toward his enemy. As the banshee began to scream, the bomb plunged into its open mouth and down into its gaping throat.

 

Its neck craned upwards, bright gray flame spouting from its mouth in a jet. Smoke sprayed from its slitted nostrils, and finally the monster exploded, its flesh disintegrating in a bright gray, pulsing fire. Holm shielded himself from the light, his black cape whipping behind him from the explosion's force.

 

[anikom15]

Here's my old story about trees:

Children! Gather around and hear this epic tale! It is about the two trees of Geradayn. Yes, long ago on that sacred hill the Eye planted two trees next to each other: one had golden leaves, and the other had green leaves. They were the first trees ever planted, and these trees could talk and walk with the Eye and view all of his creations.

For many years the trees would wander the world with the Eye, looking upon all the great things he had made, and the treasures he had found, and the cities he had built. Then one day the Eye said, 'I am leaving for a while, and I want you to look after the Earth for me. You, with your green leaves, shall give the men and animals food and water, and you, with your golden leaves, shall teach the men and animals how to survive and live prosperously for generations.' Then he left.

So the Greenwood went to the men and animals and gave then food and water. The men and animals were grateful, and they ran and followed after the tree. They played within her branches and slept in the shade of her leaves, and the tree was very happy.

Seeing this, the Goldwood became very excited to give his gift to the men and animals. The next day he went to the men and animals and began to teach them the laws of the Earth, but the men and animals did not understand and were confused. They began to ask lots of questions, and the Goldwood became nervous and stuttered and stammered his words.

Soon the men and animals became bored, and when they heard the hums of the Greenwood, bearing food and watered, they abandoned the Goldwood and ran to meet her. They played within her branches and slept in the shade of her leaves. And the men and animals were happy. And the Greenwood was happy. But the Goldwood was not happy, and he left before tears could fall from his eyes.

Many years passed, and the Eye returned.

He found the Greenwood and saw all that she had done, and he was quite proud. 'I shall plant many more trees just like you! But where is your other half? Surely he must want to see me?' Yet the tree was dying, for the Eye found him withering in a small cave, alone. He had shrunk into nothing more than a tiny, gold sprout.

'I'm sorry,' the little tree said, 'I tried to teach them, but I stammered, and they became bored, and they left me. I couldn't bring myself to look upon them ever again.'

The Eye was at first angry, but then became compassionate and said, 'Although you have failed me, I will bless you for your suffering, your loneliness, your fear. I will plant many trees that are green, and every year, for a brief time, they shall turn gold like you. All the men and animals will appreciate your beauty because it will only happen for a little while. And I will have these trees turn gold at the same time every year, so that the men and animals will know the time of year and learn the laws of the Earth. Through this, your task will be fulfilled!'

Then the Goldwood leapt with joy and uprooted himself. He ran back to his wife, the Greenwood. Soon he grew back to his old strong self and played with the men and animals. They all lived in peace and happiness for many years.

After the two trees died, the men and animals looked across the earth for food and water and shade. Soon they found many other trees and lived near them, playing within their branches and sleeping in the shade of their leaves.

And once every year, the leaves of green turned to gold.

I'll probably put up another old story, The Lady and the Tower, soon.

Aevin, your story fills me with intrigue.

[strike]

Is this also a thread for giving critique? If people ask for it of course.

 

I luuuuuve this thread! I will DEFINITELY be using it.

 

-Strike

 

EDIT: Corrected

Edited by strike, 28 July 2014 - 07:09 PM.

[anikom15]

Please critic. I love critic.

[Aevin]

strike: I edited the first post to clarify the critique thing. I figure everyone who posts here is open to the possibility of criticism, but if they say they'd rather not have any I hope no one will give them a hard time. I'm looking forward to seeing what you share!

 

anikom: I already told you how I feel about that story ... (I liked it, in case someone else reads this and thinks it sounds ominous.)

[anikom15]

The lack of content here disappoints me.

[strike]

You've inspired me anikom. I'll write something right now.

 

 

 

20XX

 

In the 1980's, as the Cold War fizzled, Micheal Jackson moon walked, and Doc Brown drove in his Delorean, a fad gripped Americans' fancy in the form of a small, simplistic toy of primitive hues. Rubik's cubes were sold by the tons as crazed shoppers wearing ripped jeans and neon clothing scrambled to lay their hands on them. This small, turning puzzle cube of so simple a concept was addictive enough to develop a mantle around itself of sleep depraved children and adults  struggling in the effort of conquering its challenge. The simple rules and concept which somehow created a complex and confounding experience had America hooked. Some would spend days until the desired moment when all the chaos of color suddenly found itself bound in the simple harmony of six, unified squares. Only someone with true intelligence and perseverance could complete a Rubik's Cube. 

 

Today, the fad has mostly died out. That is not to say that Rubik's Cubes are hard to come by. On playgrounds across the world, there can be found a child with the ability to solve a Cube in 40 or so seconds. How did they come by this talent, you might ask? Memorization. By a quickness of the fingers and a disposition to recognize visual triggers that have been learned by countless hours of childlike intensity turning the cube. Of these young gurus, very few ever solved the cube through their own intuition and intelligence. The majority, with a new tool at their disposal with which the 80's would be jealous, looked up how to solve a Rubik's Cube on the internet. Or even, if I dare say it, read the manual that now comes with a Rubik's Cube containing the solution. Thus the intellectual challenge, adventure, and adversity presented by a Rubik's Cube has now been degraded to no more than learning the names of all the Presidents or the skill of tying your shoes.

 

One of my pass times that I enjoy the most is playing a video game called Super Smash Bros. Melee. It's more of a art form than a game. Perhaps more of a cult than an art form, actually. Around this sandbox fighter hides a community of avid disciples who have mastered the game mechanics and brought out of this game a level of play little ever thought possible. Created only as a party game, what has evolved is surely the most beautiful accident in video game history. It is more than a beautiful accident: it is a beautiful game. With a deep metagame, fairly balanced cast, and seemingly endless variety in possible modes of self expression, Melee is a game that has been played for over ten years and will, I say in total confidence, be played ten years from now. But, in truth, I lie; my confidence is not unshakable. One fear lurks in my mind, one thing only I dread: 20XX.

 

"The year is 20XX. Everyone plays Fox at TAS levels of perfection. Because of this, the winner of a match depends solely on port priority. The Rock, Paper, Scissors metagame has evolved to ridiculous levels due to it being the only remaining factor to decide matches."

 

The above is a quote which stemmed from the idea that, in the future, 20XX, when all the optimum strategies have been found and there is no long any possible deviation in playstyle, the only thing that matters any more are the abilities to press buttons at a furious rate, memorize all the optimum strategies, and have a fair amount of luck involved in Rock, Paper, Scissors before the match. 20XX is, to me, the idea that when all is said and done, when the intrepid explorers on the forefront of the metagame, the Lewis and Clarks of the Melee world, have reached the West Coast, all they will find is a cold, gray, endless ocean of which there is no further journeying. More than this, it is the idea that once this has been done, travelers with less zeal and tenacity will venture forth using the trails the patriarchs brazed, and once they have reached their goal, create cities with dull lanes in which all must travel. This, to me, is 20XX.

 

In this grim reality, all who remain are the child gurus, ones who thrive off of memorization rather than innovation. Perhaps there will rise absurdists to fight these wretched life forms: Men and women playing as only Captain Falcon who, with their knees of justice and Falcon Punches, will smash their way to their own defeat in the most inspirational and profound way possible. But besides these rare Sisyphus', all who will remain will be Fox players traveling the old, worn out roads which are now as dead as bones. And once the gold rush is over and all have found that there is nothing to be had on the West Coast, these old roads will become ghost towns. People will move on.

 

I am many things, but one of the things I love being the best is an actor. I love the monologues of Shakespeare, the farces of Neil Simon, the long drawn out silences of Beckett. But perhaps trumping all these, I love improv. I enjoy the raw, spur of the moment, untamed, uncensored stories which spring forth as naturally as breathing. I'm engaged by the quick, sharp exchange of wits in front of an audience. I feel liberated by the secret I know: if you fail gloriously, you can not fail. More than anything, I love the ephemeral. I live for the untouchable, ineffable moments of the theatre. This is the only time in all of history this performance will ever occur. Only the few actors on the stage and the audience members will really understand what happened. I think it is the same with Melee. What are the two fighters but two actors on a stage (to steal from the Great Bard)? What exactly is the difference between Super Smash Bros. and improvisation?

 

I'm not sure there really is any, but I think I might have one: Melee has rules. In the theatre, no matter what anyone says, there really aren't any rules. In Melee, you can only push the rules so far before there is no longer anywhere to go: 20XX. This is not only a problem in Melee. 20XX was the death of the Rubik's Cube. 20XX, it seems to some, looms over the Chess world with malice. In fact, any game that is well loved and never changes, whether it be GO or Monopoly, is threatened by this monster. The journey toward this ominous point has been accelerated by our foolish desire to win rather than to play a beautiful game. We have taught our machines how to win our games, and in the process, lost the real game ourselves. Some have tried to fight the trend toward losing our sense of self expression. Among them is Bobby Fischer, inventor of Chess 960, a randomized version of Chess which makes memorization pointless. These people are few and far between. Any static game has a defined life span beyond which all discovery is dead.

 

Very few people really play a game to win. People play games to find things about themselves and their opponents. People play to better themselves at the game. People play because it's fun. People play to prove something about themselves. People play games for thousands of different reasons which it would be futile to try to list. But of all these reasons, all the thousands, I don't think any of them are fulfilled inherently by winning. None of them. And yet we instruct our machines to find the most effective ways for missing all these things. I hope Melee's 20XX will never come. I hope to play in a way I enjoy till everything's over (and win sometimes!) . I hope for the ephemeral to never die. I hope that 20XX forever will lie in the humming chest of a silicon ghost and that us mortals may enjoy beautiful games.

 

 

 

-Strike

 

 

Written right here in under 2 hours. No rough draft, no nothing. Beat dat! :3 Criticism appreciated

Edited by strike, 05 August 2014 - 09:30 PM.

[anikom15]

Umm I don't really know what the deal with that was, but I bet I can beat your Fox with my Dr. Mario!

[strike]

I don't think you get it...

 

I don't play Fox. I do play Peach and I have a pretty good Doc up my sleeve.

 

-Strike

[anikom15]

Peach is fun to play.

[anikom15]

I wrote this about a year ago for a contest. It had to be written in a week, and here it is verbatim except for some minor corrections. It's rather clichéd, but that's what I was going for. It also attempts to mix the mundane and the fantastic a bit.

 

The Lady of the Tower

 

There once was a copywriter named Derek who worked at a company that made magnetic tape. Derek was skilled in his work but weak in the ways of wealth. He squandered his hard-earned money on trivial expenses. He hardly saved, for he hardly knew how. And living through his life, he began to acquire more and more debts. He always had just enough to satisfy his debtors, but a great weight was over him. This he kept quietly to himself, lest he worry the ones who loved him. He did not seek any way out, for he lacked any confidence in handling his own money. He had been greatly discouraged in this regard, but outward, with guile, he maintained the air of success. And he was well liked.

 

Now one day Derek went to a party at a colleague’s house. It was a big, bustling party. He was dressed quite fashionably, having spent even more of his deftly deserved income on a stylish suit. Yet perhaps this purchase was not in vain, for he met a lady that evening that would change him. On entering the house, Derek had first seen her. And then later a few more times, before he decided to meet her. Now Derek had met many lassies in his life, and indeed were there many lasses in the lavish gathering, but not before had Derek seen a lady as lustrous as her. And he was lucky. In the state of infatuation he met with her in a dim and musty room. ‘Hi, I’m Derek,’ he said, and she gave him her name, Lauren. They went on to discuss many things. First, over the matters of the party: the music, the drinks, the people; and then the discussion naturally went on to other things. They were both writers with a love for language and talked about their favorite authors and their favorite books. And when they had become drunk, the talk of books ceased, and they gaily paraded around laughing with people or at people until they settled down with Lauren’s friends, there fellowshipping until the night grew old and sobriety began to overtake them. They were some of the earliest to leave. Thus Derek had come to know Lauren.

 

Derek and his newfound Lauren had been together for about one year, and Derek had begun to change his ways a bit, saving his money rather than squandering it. He received a promotion and became a manager of the magnetic tape company. Thenceforth, he began to think of marriage. Now one day Derek returned from work early and found that Lauren had left a note for him. This was unusual; a message would typically be over the phone. It said:

 

Darling,

 

I've gone away. I don’t want to leave without you, but I feel that this is the only way to get you to come. I'll tell you more when you arrive. I've left you directions on the back. I've also taken the dog for company. I think it'll take you a couple days to get here. It's a weird looking tower. You'll know right away what it is when you see it.

 

Love,

Lauren

 

After reading the note, Derek ate, packed, and drove off in his Buick, beginning his odyssey across the country.

 

‘Damn,’ he said to himself, ‘have to get gas.’ Hardly had he left his driveway when he saw that the gas in his car was low. He drove to the nearest gas station and began to fill up. As he watched the meters work he heard music and turned to see a strange man strumming a guitar. He was playing quite well. ‘Hello,’ the mysterious man began, ‘have you any spare change for a poor man such as me? It is quite hard to live about playing for no fee.’

 

Derek was impressed by the skill of the musician and noticed there was an upturned hat under where the musician was standing. He approached the musician, threw some money in, and began to return to his car. ‘Wait!’ the musician began as the fuel pump for Derek’s car clicked off. ‘Before you leave, please tell me where you be going, and I’ll tell you what I can perceive.’

 

Derek responded, ‘I’m not sure myself.’

 

‘Oh I see, well then thank you for assisting me.’

 

When Derek entered into his car and attempted to start it, it would not run. He became frustrated. He opened the hood and got out to see what could be the matter. Then the strange musician approached him and said some more, ‘Verily there is a force that doesn’t want you to go anywhere, but with a slight trick I can repay thee with this affair.’ The man tapped the car and it suddenly started. Derek was now flabbergasted by this manic man, and he thanked him and left with a grin. Hitherto, Derek was unabatedly unsure of this whole journey, but now he felt a feeling of peace and confidence. He drove on and soon night came to. He picked up dinner and continued on until the night became late. He then stopped and slept at a quiet motel.

 

Derek was well out of town by the time he arrived at the motel. Leaving there in the morning, his directions would lead him over some hills and into a narrow valley. From there he had to turn onto a dirt road and drive some more. The sun was just peaking noon when a tower loomed toward him. Thither was the final stop. And Derek parked his car and made his approach by foot, for there was no road that led up to the rook. The green grass about Derek was tall and was swayed back and forth by the wind. The sky was blue with clouds a few. Of birds there was one, a hawk, that flew high overhead, familiar with the land but not with the man who walked under it. It was a surreal, dreamlike scene. And wearily was Derek, driving diligently for fair lady, but the wild air brought itself into him. He became invigorated, yet he was wary as well of this intimidating turret. The tower looked at him with a terrifying gaze. Its stone was white, and it seemed old, far older than Derek thought was right. Undamaged it stood, unaffected by any wear or wind or war. And while Derek approached in awe of the mighty structure, there came from it a beast that was familiar: Boris, dog of Derek, and after it the lady Lauren, stepping out from the base of the tower longing to meet him. ‘Hello my dear,’ said she, ‘I am so happy that you are here! And now that you have come, there is something very important we must discuss. This is my tower; please come inside.’

 

So Derek, with Lauren and Boris, went into the tall tower and climbed its circular steps to the top. At its top was a trap door leading to a room. Inside were some of Lauren’s articles brought by her and a cot, and also there was a man lying on the floor, sleeping. Lauren called out to him and when he awoke, he staggered upwards and smiled at Derek. ‘Hello,’ he said, ‘it’s nice to see you again.’

 

‘Hello, Lawrence,’ Derek said to Lauren’s brother, ‘what’s going on exactly?’

 

‘Derek,’ Lauren began, ‘Do you love me?’

 

‘Of course I do,’ he said with a bit of confusion.

 

‘What do you think brother?’ she asked Lawrence.

 

‘I’m not really sure, but he’ll have to do. We don’t have much time.’ Lawrence replied. He looked intensely at Derek with his smile. His clothes were a bit tattered and his hair was quite messy.

 

‘Okay,’ Lauren continued, ‘Derek, you are going to go with Lawrence on a quest.’

 

‘Uh . . . okay. What do I have to do?’ He was prepared to do whatever errand Lauren would give him, but he did think it odd that she brought him to such a strange place only to ask for something.

 

‘Well, let me explain,’ said she quickly, her tone becoming grimmer, ‘My brother and I, we are not from this world. We come from another plane, a land whose resources have been squandered and destroyed. It is now a desolate place. Many years ago, there was a kingdom in this world, and only one kingdom; this world is much smaller than the one you live on. It was a very powerful kingdom, and Lawrence and I were the children of the King. By the time Lawrence and I were born, there was not much food or water. Many people were dying, and the nobility barely had enough for itself. The people became angry and civil war broke out. Some wanted to overthrow the King, while others searched for ways to get what they wanted through magic, and still many left the world through magic gates to other worlds, not knowing where they’d end up. Then there was a warrior named Spyridon who usurped the throne. He seemed to have a deep power nobody had seen before. He could create anything he wanted, and soon gave the people what they all needed: food and water. He seemed kind; despite usurping the throne, he spared my family’s life, including the King’s, although he imprisoned him.

 

‘But that soon changed. Whether or not he always was evil I don’t really know, but his magic used the power of the land, and he began to use it for his own dark designs. Soon there would be nothing left. I think he became mad, because he started to conjure strange creatures and ferocious beasts. And once all the power of the land was used up he turned to the seas and used all that up until the world turned into a desert. And then he began to turn on the people. He no longer gave them food or water, and then they died quickly. Soon we would’ve died, but my family managed to free the King and we all went into a magic gate. So that’s how we ended up here.’

 

‘Uh-huh,’ said Derek, stupefied. He wondered if this was some kind of weird trick, but he knew that Lauren was hardly the type to do such a thing. He started to believe all this thought-out nonsense. ‘What exactly does this have to do with me?’

 

‘That’s what I’m getting to,’ continued Lauren, ‘a lot of us came from that world to this, but only Lawrence and I remain. The rest have all faded away. My father told me this would happen. He said that Spyridon would actually be able to use the power within us even if we were outside the world. Indeed, my family has succumbed to a strange sickness, identical for everyone who gets it. They become incredibly pale and soon die. It’s just a hunch, but I believe that Spyridon is using this power to create a beast that will conquer other worlds, including this one. No doubt he knows of its existence.’

 

‘Yes,’ chimed in Lawrence, ‘And if we don’t stop him, not only will Lauren and I die, but the whole world will be turned into a lifeless desert, just like our old world was.’

 

‘That’s terrifying!’ exclaimed Derek, more exited and less confused now, ‘How do we stop him?’

 

Lauren continued, ‘A family wizard, Maggio, left a gate into the old world in this tower. He also left us two magic weapons: the Bow of Bane and the Sword of Souls. They can be used to defeat Spyridon.’

 

‘Well wait,’ said Derek, ‘if the weapons can defeat Spyridon, why didn’t they just use them to beat him years ago?’

 

‘That’s a good question,’ said Lauren, ‘but the family wanted to find a new world. The old world had nothing left in it. They liked it here. Maggio made the weapons after leaving the old world. They are actually entities of this world. So nobody took the weapons and went back to fight. Maggio told me that we needed to find someone outside the family to wield the Sword of Souls. It’s a powerful weapon that should not be given to the wrong hands.’

 

‘So, you want me to wield it?’ asked Derek.

 

‘Yes,’ said Lawrence, ‘and I will wield the Bow of Bane. Together we will beat Spyridon!’

 

‘Oh joy. Well, I guess there’s not much to lose,’ Derek said nervously, ‘but I’ve never really done anything like this before. I’m not sure if I can even use the sword.’

 

‘Remember, I love you,’ said Lauren.

 

So the quest began. Lauren gave them the magic weapons and took them to a mirror. After a short time the image on the mirror changed into a pure white light. Derek and Lawrence stepped in and vanished from the world.

 

 

They found themselves in a vast desert lit by a red sun. Although the sun was high in the sky, it was lit like twilight. Derek thought it was incredibly eerie and uncomfortable. Lawrence was now in possession of a small hand-sized version of the mirror which could take them back to the old world if they looked into it. Derek unsheathed his sword and looked at it. It didn’t seem all that special, but it was quite heavy and sharp. He practiced a few swings. He realized it was a two-handed sword. ‘Where can we find this Spyridon?’ asked Derek.

 

‘I’m not sure,’ replied Lawrence, ‘I don’t remember this place.’

 

There were no birds. There were no beasts. There were neither trees nor grass. There was nothing crawling upon the earth. The land felt dead, the earth was red, and it was strange. And then from the aether came a vile laugh that seemed omnidirectional. The earth trembled with it.

 

‘Hello,’ the voice said in a deep, menacing tone, ‘Welcome to my realm! I knew not that thee, Lawrence, would return some day. Yet it seems thou hast come with a friend. I did not say that thou could bring outsiders to this realm. For that I must punish thee, but that I will do later. As of now it is no matter, for I can finally leave this forsaken earth.’

 

He gave a loud laugh, and then there was silence. Derek and Lawrence looked around cautiously. Out of the aether came a figure, tall and broad with long, dark hair. ‘Spyridon!’ Lawrence exclaimed, and he shot an arrow towards him, but Spyridon dodged it and continued to approach. Lawrence continued to fire a few more arrows, and continued to miss. ‘Derek!’ Lawrence said, ‘you have to fight him! Go after him with your sword!’

 

Derek deftly ran towards Spyridon with sword swinging, and Spyridon pulled out from behind him a longsword mighty and thrust it outward. Derek dived out of its way and attempted to strike the fiend, but Spyridon was too skilled in swordplay and would have sundered Derek from his sword had it not been for Lawrence firing an arrow that narrowly hit the lord’s shoulder. The wound festered and Spyridon cried in pain and became angered. Seizing the moment, Derek attacked the wounded Spyridon and struck him. Spyridon’s body was like stone, and a deep wound the sword could not make, but only a long laceration was formed across the chest of Spyridon. Derek then pushed against him with great force and the lord fell. But Spyridon rolled back his legs and kicked Derek before he could be wounded again. Seeing this as opportune, Lawrence shot another arrow. This time it hit the chest of the lord, just after he arose, but it did not seem to do much beyond causing his skin to fester slight. ‘Much stronger than I thought—weapons ye have made to wound me. No more do I toy with thou!’ said Spyridon, and he threw up his hands and vanished in green flames.

 

The two left standing were quiet for a moment. Suddenly the ground started to shake. Great fissures formed in the earth and flames began to form from within. Then Lawrence spoke, ‘I think something terrible has happened. We need to return.’

 

‘What do you mean?’ asked Derek, stabilizing himself while watching the ground.

 

‘He mentioned something about leaving the earth. I think that may mean he has left this earth.’

 

‘But . . . how?’

 

‘I’m not sure exactly. Magic, I guess. Let’s return. Come and look through the mirror!’

 

Derek ran up to Lawrence. Lawrence took out the mirror and they looked into it. They were transported back to the tower.

 

‘So what happened?’ asked Lauren once Derek and Lawrence appeared.

 

‘He disappeared, and I fear the worst,’ said Lawrence.

 

‘Oh, you mean he is here? But I haven’t seen anyone else come through the gate,’ said Lauren.

 

‘He must be somewhere else, but how can we find him?’ asked Lawrence.

 

Suddenly the sound of broken glass silenced them. Turning around the three saw that the mirror behind was cracked and shattered as if some invisible hand had smashed it.

 

‘What’s that?’ asked Derek.

 

‘I think that means that that world has ended. That’s probably why those cracks in the earth were forming!’ replied Lawrence.

 

‘Spyridon has left that world to conquer this one, and somehow, we let him do that,’ said Lauren, ‘He has no more use for that world. Perhaps he had the power to destroy it, or maybe it was just the time for it to end.’

 

‘Whatever happened,’ said Derek, ‘we need to find this mad man and stop him. I feel like I could actually beat him in a fight.’

 

‘Yes,’ said Lawrence, ‘it seems like his power has waned. I think he’s out in search for more of it. But how do we find him?’

 

‘We keep our eyes open,’ said Derek, ‘Let’s leave here. And Lawrence, you can come with us. We’ll prepare for an encounter with the mad man.’

 

‘We’re going to go home?’ asked Lauren.

 

‘I don’t see why not. I don’t see any reason to stay here,’ said Derek. And there was no reason. So they left that tower, Derek with his Buick, and Lauren and Lawrence in a station wagon, and returned to Derek’s house. They did not stop, but drove straight through the night, arriving at daybreak.

 

At Derek’s house they rested for a bit, ate, and discussed all that was going on. ‘Spyridon is fast,’ said Lawrence, ‘I must hit him with an arrow, and you must then hit him with your sword.’

 

‘Yes,’ said Derek, ‘but I don’t see why that wizard guy didn’t just make guns.’

 

‘That would’ve been nice,’ said Lawrence, ‘but we have to work with what we have.’

 

Lauren chimed in, coming into the kitchen after taking a shower, ‘Your weapons are magical, and Maggio said they give the wielder power. Perhaps you should figure out how to get it.’

 

‘Well why don’t we go outside and practice?’ asked Derek.

 

‘You do that,’ said Lauren, and she went into the living room and started to watch television.

 

Derek and Lawrence went out into the backyard to practice with their weapons. As they practiced more and more they felt like they were getting faster and stronger, as if the air was guiding their movements. ‘Maybe there really is something magical about this sword,’ said Derek as he slashed and thrust about. They continued to practice until around sunset when Lauren came out and said, ‘Hey guys, you should come look at this.’ So they all went inside and Lauren pointed at the television screen. There was the news, and on it a report of a man bursting into a store and threatening people with a sword.

 

‘My God!’ exclaimed Lawrence, ‘he’s right in this very city!’

 

‘This is our chance to stop him,’ said Derek.

 

‘I wish we had found him earlier. We have to fight at night.’

 

‘And fight we will! This is a real threat. Look on the screen! There is his face. We must go now.’

 

‘I’ll go with you,’ said Lauren.

 

‘Yes, and Boris, too,’ replied Derek.

 

‘Boris?’ asked Lawrence, ‘your fat dog?’

 

‘Indeed,’ said Derek, ‘I like the idea of a dog fighting by my side.’

 

‘I think this swordfighting thing might’ve gone to your head.’

 

Derek laughed a bit, ‘Well maybe, but we’ve got no more time to spare. Let’s all get in my car and try to come up with a plan.’

 

So, the four burst out of the house and into the Buick. They were filled with an unnatural bravery. They would fight for their home and not let this evil take control. Derek knew where to go and drove there quickly. Thank goodness he had filled up his car when he returned from the tower! Spyridon had seized a shop downtown, and when the four arrived they were unexpectedly greeted by a crowd of cheering citizens. ‘You have a sword?’ one asked, ‘You will take down that lunatic!’ There were police all around the store, talking about protocol and procedure. A group of officers had gone in to subdue Spyridon, but their bullets had no effect, and they were slain. As the four approached the store, an officer came up to them and said, ‘Sorry, you guys need to stay back—wait a minute, is that a sword?’ He had a puzzled look on his face, and his white moustache twitched.

 

‘It is,’ said Derek.

 

‘Uh . . . okay I think you’re going to have to put that away——’

 

‘Now wait a minute,’ said Derek, ‘I’m friends with this guy. We’re mediaeval enthusiasts. Why don’t you let me try to——’

 

‘Yeah, yeah, look we’re past the negotiating stage. This guy has clearly already made himself guilty of first degree murder. We can handle this.’

 

‘Oh,’ said Derek, ‘in that case, if he only has a sword and you all have guns, why hasn’t he been taken down?’

 

The officer fumbled about with a look of embarrassment.

 

‘It seems to me this strategy isn’t working out,’ continued Derek.

 

‘Well, yeah, you’re right,’ said the officer, ‘Honestly, I really have no idea what’s going on here. Are you really sure you can bring this guy in?’

 

‘Maybe not bring him, but I can kill him.’

 

‘Oh, well that’s fine, too, actually. You’re gonna use that sword aren’t you? Here’s the thing: I’m in charge of this operation. The Fed’ll be here if we don’t take care of this soon, and then we’ll have a frenzy. So you can do whatever you want. I don’t really have any ideas at this point.’

 

‘All right, this’ll sound crazy, but I have a plan.’

 

‘Go on.’

 

‘I need you to distract him with your men while my friend and I go out and get him.’

 

‘That’s crazy. Why would a sword and a . . . bow and arrow work when guns don’t?’

 

‘You’re just gonna have to trust us. Besides, those Feds are gonna come.’

 

‘Yeah, yeah, you keep your mouth shut. I’ll go with it. I’m a good cop. I’ll do a good job. Just bring me that maniac, dead or alive.’

 

With that, the plan was set into motion. A squad of police officers went in followed by Derek and Lawrence. The power for the store had been cut and Derek and Lawrence were given helmets equipped with flash lights. The store was dark and items on shelves had been thrashed about violently. It seemed like Spyridon was searching for something, but now he was nowhere in sight. Suddenly there was a great yell and a man with a mighty longsword moved about them. He charged for one of the policemen, but Lawrence was quick with his bow and struck him with two arrows. Spyridon gave a cry and stopped in his tracks and the police opened fire, but the bullets were nothing to the vile villain. Then out of the darkness came Derek with his shining hat, and as he clenched his sword it began to shimmer a pale blue fire. He gave a loud grunt and hurled himself towards his foe. But Spyridon was prepared and blocked Derek’s blow with his own great sword. They were locked in a tight duel for some time. This time was Derek prepared. He tapped into the magic of the sword and was given fast reflexes and strength. He could predict and dodge every swipe, and he could resist every thrust. Spyridon was greatly surprised by this power, and began to feel he was losing the fight. ‘I will not lose to a fool!’ cried the lord and suddenly from his sword came a great light that knocked Derek down. And Spyridon was nowhere to be found. The team composed itself and regrouped.

 

Suddenly screams were heard, and gunshots fired and Derek’s dog Boris began to bark. Spyridon and Lawrence and the police all ran out to see Spyridon running away. He ran with great leaps like a gorilla and jumped on top of stopped cars. Boris would now support his master, and ran across the street towards the villain. Lawrence took aim and fired two shots at once, and both struck Spyridon, one in the arm, and the other in the leg. Spyridon tumbled, and Boris jumped on top of him and bit him. Spyridon gave a great cry of pain. The bite of the beast had wounded him. He clenched his longsword and attempted to shake off the beast when Derek appeared before him. ‘Your time is up,’ he said.

 

‘You only think so,’ said Spyridon with a sinister smirk, and he thrust his sword toward Derek, who only narrowly avoided it. And Spyridon rolled about and flipped himself back on his feet. His agility seemed to Derek to be supernatural. Then a strange but familiar noise emitted from the distance, and both Derek and Spyridon were perplexed. It was the man from the gas station. He was strumming a tune on his guitar, and he was approaching them, smiling. He then started to sing. Derek was amazed, and suddenly he felt stronger, smarter, and braver. He looked at his sword, and then at Spyridon. ‘You’ve used all your power just to stay on your feet,’ said Derek, ‘but I’ve learned when to save and when to spend in the right circumstance, and now I unleash all my power before you!’ And Derek lunged towards Spyridon with a speed unlike any swordsman before, and he twisted and spun and sliced and slashed at his foe. Spyridon could not keep up. He had lost control of the fight. He had only one choice: to thrust at his foe, and so he did, but it was a fatal mistake. Derek parried the blow and sundered him. Spyridon begged for surrender, and he put his hands behind his back, and there a deathly dagger magically formed in Spyridon’s right hand. Yet before the trick could be made an arrow went through Spyridon’s wrist, and the knife fell. Derek saw the knife, and with a great yell cut off Spyridon’s head. Thus Derek did defeat Spyridon the Sinister.

 

Many people began to crowd around Derek. Lawrence and Boris soon joined him, and they all congratulated him. Derek most certainly thanked Lawrence for saving him and Boris as well for valiantly facing the foe. The police were amazed at what happened. The chief especially was perplexed as to how he would write a report on the incident. Finally, Lauren came and hugged Derek, and they kissed. There Derek asked Lauren to marry her, and she gladly accepted.

 

So they returned home and celebrated, and Derek took the Sword of Souls and the Bow of Bane and wrapped them and tucked them away, saving them for another day.

[Shane]

Before I finished the last flight of stairs, I heard something creak close by which accompanied the sounds of a heavy object slowly scrapping on the surface of the bottom floor. Startled - not to be confused with frightened - I pointed my flashlight at the source of the sound to find a metal unbolted door opening at my arrival. Was someone really down here?

"Hello?" I finally managed to spoke after moments of thinking as I just kept the flashlight on the door.

"Hello... hello... hello..." My voice echoed in the mystery room.

"Is someone there?" I spoke more louder and firmer, hoping for an answer.

"There... there... there... there..." No response, other than a louder, more eerie repetition of my voice crafted by space of the next room. I should have been scared. I wanted a voice to tell me to back out. But my curiosity got the best of me. I entered the next room that was conveniently opened for me. Upon entering the room, I saw nothing but a fairly large featureless room save for the door I walked in. Well, the door that was there...

"Wait, what?" I kept calm. Perhaps the dark is playing tricks?

 

"Wait, what?" my voice repeated itself again, in a eerie tone.

"Where's the door?" I questioned, becoming nervous, but not terrified. I pointed my flashlight everywhere, walls, floor, ceiling. It was just crude looking textured concrete everywhere. And darkness. A lot of it.

"Where's the door?" the echo this time, didn't feel quite right. My voice had a nervous tone. But the echoed sounded... amused? The more I thought about it, the higher the hair on my skin stood. The more I questioned if it was my voice, more goosebumps emerged. Fear grabbed me like a pair of hands from behind, grasping my shoulders harshly.

"HELP!" I snapped. Despite going so far down deep into the unknown I prayed someone heard me. I might of snapped, but I was in for a shock.

 

"HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP!..." multiple echoes screamed what I said. It never stopped, or even decrease in volume. Thousands of unseen forces mimicked my voice. I screamed, the echoes... they repeated it too, but their screams ended up in fits of laughter.

"I HATE THIS PLACE! I WANT OUT!" I screamed, curled up in the corner staring at the dark room. Where was these echoes coming from? They were everywhere!

"I LOVE THIS PLACE! I WANT TO STAY!" The echoes are no longer even repeating what I say, they are changing what I say to something I wouldn't dream of saying. They said this on and on and on. I didn't know how long. I had no way of telling. But I do know it felt like thousand years worth of torment. What's worse, I began to hear my stomach rumble, begging for food. My throat burned, pleading for water or anything. Wait, it was the echoes of my voice! They were saying stuff I never said at all!

 

I slowly laid there in that one spot, crying, the tears burned my eyes. I was waiting for freedom. But was death the only way to freedom? I slowly begin to close my eyes for good. Was it really the path to being free?

No.

Someone opened up the door, he asked if anyone was here. I too asked that as his eyes widened. To this day, I love it down here.
 

And soon, you will too, when the time comes.

 

Looking for critique on concept and writing. This was written in a half hour and thought up in seconds flat, all at 2 in the morning.

 

Might listen to feedback, redo it and make it into an actual creepypasta?

Edited by Shane, 24 August 2014 - 10:58 AM.

[Joelmacool]

I got a nice story to tell.

Once apon a time... The End.

[Shane]

I got a nice story to tell.

Once apon a time... The End.

Oh! That's the story of DayDay 6. Literally. 

[anikom15]

Can we not put our stories in quotes? It makes it harder to read. I know I put my first one in quotes but that was because I was literally quoting myself.