Hi all. I've been posting miscellaneous writings all over the forum for about a year now, and I decided to go ahead and make a single place for these sorts of shorts.

Really, calling most of them stories is a bit generous, since most of them don't have anything resembling a beginning, middle, and end. In fact, most of the time it's just me describing an image I have in mind in words. Sometimes they come out as stories, sometimes not.

Another thing before I get going (in the next post), I will probably, mostly for my own convenience, dig through the forum at some point and repost stories of mine.

And, actually, I'll get this thing started now, with a repost!

edited 19th Nov '10 11:40:58 AM by LuckyRevenant

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

Okay, so, I know I just did a repost, but I just found another story of mine and I think I want to repost it.

---

In the light-consuming darkness, a gibbering idiot machine chattered on. Impossibly massive, pieces of it moved as though they had minds of their own. This thing, blacker than the pit it lived in, was roughly humanoid, if humans had three sets of legs that more closely resembled an insect’s legs than a primate’s, or many long tentacles in the place of arms, which twisted and coiled with a purpose long forgotten. Its head was perfectly egg-shaped, and perfectly flat, possessing only two craters, wherein sat stars, and an always open mouth, lipless, every continent-sized tooth sharpened to a terrifying point.

Always it was howling, swirling the crying darkness around it, the foul winds filtering through its exposed ribs, which chattered as they moved, like fingers, grasping for a speck of something, following instinctual instructions.

After aeons had passed, it finally found what it searched for. A splinter of something that had long been lost to this age was picked up by one of the ribs, and was injected into the womblike core of the machine. With this motion, the howls ceased, the winds that were created by them began to fade away, and the stars that were the machine’s eyes changed their colour.

Having finally found its perfect environment in the core, the splinter began to grow. Before long, though, this seed was unable to hold what grew inside it. As cracks began to spread throughout the splinter, the glow of what was within began to seep through. The shell around it broke away and dissolved in the womb, leaving only what it had contained these many long years behind. As the shape twisted and morphed, it began to look much like a human torso. As the form absorbed the nebular substance of the womb, the stumps at each corner of the torso began to grow and develop, and the size of the thing increased as well. It was only a matter of time before the angelic babe filled the core it was developing inside of, but the babe was far from finished.

The core of the machine began to sink, having grown far too heavy to be held in place anymore, and as it broke away from the numerous cords and tubes, the mouth again opened, but now it shrieked. When the core sank through the yonic opening of the machine, it broke apart, allowing the child inside to spread its limbs out at last, and as the newborn moved, the shrieks of its mother changed into whimpers. The parts of the machine that still moved began to slow, the chitterings ceasing.

The babe looked up at the abomination and understood that its mother was dying. It did not cry, though, for it knew that this was how it must be. In fact, that face betrayed no signs of emotion, though its large eye revealed a vast reservoir of inhuman intelligence.

And now, with even more room to grow, this young deity did just that, and as it grew and matured, its light began to break its mother into many miniscule pieces, shards that were devoured by the light, allowing the child to grow even more. After aeons had passed, the entity filled the space its mother had, but was no longer the infant it had been, but instead had developed firmly into adulthood.\\
After ages of the cosmos having possessed only that idiot machine, it had a new god at last. The brilliant figure inhaled, and the world came in with that great breath. Then, with one bursting note, the deity began to sing.

Thus, the world was reborn.

edited 19th Nov '10 12:03:30 PM by LuckyRevenant

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

And another one!

---

The first thing that struck me when I walked into the room was the size of the computers that lined the walls. It was hard for me to believe that anyone still needed to use computers that big for any purpose. My eyes then went to the centre of the room, where there sat a large, rather threatening chair, and behind it a large cybernetic box that reminded me of a sarcophagus.

"Would it be okay for me to get a better look at her?" I asked Rodger.
"If you desire," he replied. "But remember that you only have so much time here."

As I approached the sarcophagus, Rodger close behind, I noticed that the woman inside was nearly completely covered, the only opening revealing her ever-staring face. It was a bit morbid, but far less grotesque than the last one. Even the wires that went into her temples and eyes were not as disturbing as the other.

"Why have the opening at all?" I asked.

"It was Katjarina's one desire when she signed up to be an Oracle."

He said her name with a great deal of adoration. I wondered if he despaired to see her current state.

"Pretty name."

"She was a beautiful woman, in her day."

"I bet," I said before sitting in the chair. "Let's get started, shall we?"

He finally left my side, going to a small cart filled with medical instruments. "Have you used an Oracle before?"

"Yeah. Once."

"About sixty years ago."

"Would you like me to repeat the procedure?"

"I think I'm fine."

"All right. Do you have a sedative implant?"

"No." I never did trust those things.

At that, Rodger picked up a syringe from the cart, adjusted it with clinical precision, and came over to me. He prepared my arm, and then said, "This may sting a little" before injecting me with the sedative.

I winced, and never even felt the plug go into my spine.

edited 19th Nov '10 12:03:18 PM by LuckyRevenant

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

Seriously, I found a bunch of them.

---

Darkness and Gold

The man walked slowly down the street. What his destination was is not important for our purposes today. As I was saying, the man walked slowly down the street. There were few cars on the street, but such is the case on most early mornings, before the sun has come. ‘Tis the norm for people to sleep in such situations, but this man was not normal.

This is not to say that there was something wrong about this man. On most other nights, he would’ve been sleeping like his kin. Yet, for whatever reason, on this night, he was wide awake and was walking down the street.

The street was not large. It was merely four lanes wide, and a ditch lay on one side of it. On the other were a sidewalk and many buildings, as well as a few parking lots. It was on this sidewalk that this man walked.

Why was he up so late this night? Such questions of origins and destinations are unimportant, for origins are quickly forgotten and destinations are never what we believe them to be.

And so this man walked down the street. He had a small sense of paranoia arising within him, but he pushed down most of those feelings. After all, who does not feel like prey in the time before the light?

Eventually though, and long before he was even close to reaching his perceived destination, he could not resist the urge to look behind him any longer. And so he did.

He saw the streetlights blink out. One by one.

Though such activity is natural at morningtide, it was not yet that time. And so the man knew something was wrong.

As the darkness got closer, he noticed something: a billowing sort of cloud that was unlike smoke or fog. Nay, it looked as though the shadows were rising from the ground and were consuming the light.

And so the man did what any rational human would do in this situation: he ran. Of course this was futile, but instinct lacked reason. And so the darkness consumed him, but it did not kill him.

He felt disoriented. There was no light for him to make distances out with, no sound reaching his ears, few smells, and nothing to taste. There was a chill air about him, but it was in no way something he could use to become oriented.

But then he realized something. It was getting colder.

What this meant, he could not have known, but it did of course mean something dire was about to happen to him. He decided that since light was being consumed, warmth was also being consumed. Though he was not mistaken, he did not know all of what was happening.

Hovering only eight feet away from him was a figure he could not see. It possessed a human form, but was far superior to it. As though it had decided upon what the perfect human form would appear as and then shifted to appear as such.

Naturally, its idea of perfection is far from ours.

The being was black, but whether this was due to a lack of light to give it another colour or if it was genuinely pitch black in colour was debatable. Its arms and legs were much longer, proportionately, than a normal human’s. It lacked a nose and hair and ears, and its eyes were little more than slits from which white orbs gleamed dully. Its head seemed to possess far more bones, especially at the jaw, than any human skull, but describing such would be difficult.

The being slowly hovered toward the frightened and confused man and tapped his chest lightly. When it pulled its finger away, a long sinuous grey glowing thing like a snake came out of the man, trailing behind the thing’s finger, which he quickly realized was his soul, and by the light of which he was able to see this being he labeled “demon”. He was frightened, for it is not within the soul that emotions are held but within the glands, and the man still possessed those. Of course, this fear was somehow empty, and so he stood numbly as the demon absorbed his soul.

When this happened, he felt differently. Not dead or empty. No. He felt new and filled with new knowledge for, when the demon consumed his soul, he became part of it, and suddenly knew its life.

And with this knowledge came new sight. He saw that the area or darkness was expanding, and he saw the bodies of all that he had stolen the souls of within the darkness. And they followed the demon, but why wouldn’t they, for it was a god to them all.

The new knowledge did not provide freedom for the man. Knowing the life of the demon, and sharing its mind, caused him to want nothing more than to become like the horde of souls that surrounded it. He wanted to embrace the being, and to become part of it in the flesh as they were one in spirit.

The demon had long ago left him though, and he simply stood, alone, until he decided to begin to follow it. He stumbled through the darkness, in truth unable to do anything else. He was now part of it, and would never be able to escape it. He had to follow it until there was nothing else to follow. And what would happen then? Oh, life’s great unanswerable questions. Fortunately for him, he wouldn’t have to learn the answer to this question, though many others soon would.

It began with a sort of golden sparkle that he saw flickering rather close to him. Motes of that glorious hue appeared yards from him and floated down. Slowly, more and more fell until there was a rain of gold, which soon became a pillar of gold light. He approached the pillar, eager to learn what was within its opaque depths. Of course, he wasn’t the only one that wished to learn about this new entity. All that were within and had become the darkness had gathered around this mysterious light. The demon that was the source of the supernatural shadows had also approached it, but it kept a distance.

Slowly, the pillar began to clear, though it was still illuminating. Now it appeared as a white flame with a figure at the center. The figure was standing, and seemed to be beckoning the denizens of the darkness to it. Most, fearful, stayed where they stood. He was different. He strode towards the figure.

As the distance closed, he began to make out details of the figure in the flame. It was a woman. He hair was long, he form thin, her body unclothed. She stood, her arm jutting forward, her finger beckoning him. And he came. And as he got closer, his eagerness to reach this beauty with fair hair and fair skin rose.

When he reached the boundary of the flame, he felt it purging him. He felt the burn that fell upon his skin. He did not care. He withstood the pain and continued walking. Even as his skin began flaking off, he continued walking. Even as his organs melted, he continued walking. And though he wanted nothing but to scream, he never did. Instead, he continued walking.

When he finally reached the woman, he was naught but a skeleton, so white and durable that it seemed to be made of marble. And the woman, whom he could no longer see, yet still knew that her skin was not truly pale but fair with a golden tinge, embraced him. He was taken into her arms and felt freedom.

At the moment of that embrace, many things occurred. First, his skeleton crumbled to dust. Second, many of the denizens of the darkness rushed into the light, seeking to destroy the one that had destroyed their brother. One by one, each fell as he had. And as this happened, grey orbs began to fly out of the demon, and the darkness got smaller.

Before long, the demon was standing within normal lighting. Several nights had passed since had had become part of it. Once again it was night, but the unnatural darkness was gone. The golden woman stood as the brightest source of light in this area.

The two did not clash. There was no battle between them. Once there were no more souls belonging to the demon, the woman’s light began to dim and once it was gone, so was she. The demon on the other hand now stood motionless and slowly began to peel apart.

After moments, golden dust and peels of dark flesh was all that remained on that asphalt.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

David sat at his table in the convention hall, a glass of beer in his hand. At least, it would be a glass of beer if he hadn't already drunk what was in it, but he didn't care to get a refill. The drink was crap.

All around David were magicians, sitting in little socialising groups at their big, fancy tables. Not him. He was alone, but that was fine. At this sort of function, he preferred it.

He looked at the magicians—what a laugh that they wold call their parlour tricks "magic"—and observed how similar they were. You had the Old Hat magicians, in their fancy suits who conducted crazy feats of skill with an almost vaudevillian stage presence. Then you had the New Kids, with their chains and spikes, who preferred to call themselves "illusionists". They were all a joke.

But, they were a funny joke, so it was fine.

Something like a flash caught his notice at the far end of hte hall. At first, he thought it was only a magician's trick, which wouldn't be surprising. Then he saw the wild red hair on a person that wasn't dressed like anyone else there.

David got up and maneuvered himself through the whorey assistants and supid magicians that were in his way until he had reached the man with red hair.

"What the hell are you doing here?" David asked him.

"One of my students is obsessed with this stuff, and when he learned of my interests in the occult—"

"You mean fairies?"

"The occult, he suggested I come. Why are you here?"

"These men are my brethren!"

At that, the red haired man snorted and walked away. David followed him to a table, which they sat at.

"Oh, what? They really are!"

"David, you and I both know you have nothing in common with these folkd."

"We both use magic..."

"No, they perform tricks."

And at that, the two became silent, which lasted for some time. Evan was right of course. That wasn't the reason David was at the Providence Magician's Convention. He was here for many reasons, not least among them being that he knew he was superior to them.

Eventually, David decided to break the silence. "So, why didn't you ever start performing magic?"

"Your kind, or their kind?"

"My kind. Who would want to perform their kind?"

"Well, there are many—"

"Just answer the question."

"Let's put it this way: when you've been bathed in blood, against your will, you don't really want to shed any."

"Yeah, but you'd be unstoppable!"

"Of course, but..." Evan said, ushering in more silence between the two.

As the two sat together, pondering who knows what, David began to become aware of a needle-like pain in his shoulder. He grasped it, stood up and looked around.

"What is it?" Evan asked.

"Trouble," David replied.

"Well, that's obvious enough," Evan said, rolling his eyes. "What kind of trouble?"

"That's what I want to know!"

David jumped on the table and looked around for the danger, and saw nothing but the eyes of many on him. Playing it off, he closed his hands around his mouth and blew. When he opened them, a stream of fire ran from them, harmlessly. He smiled, meekly, and got off the table.

"Well?"

"I don't know."

"Isn't this your specialty?"

"Isn't it yours?" David returned, annoyed. He began to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. I might be able to get a better sense of whatever's here where it's quiet."

"I'm going with you," Evan told him, a hint of fear tinging his tone.

"Why are you scared?" David asked. "It's not like anything can hurt you."

"I'm not afraid about getting hurt," Evan replied. "I'm afraid someone else will."

Oh. That hadn't been fear in his voice. It was concern. Great.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

"I think we have a problem," Meagan said to her refrigerator. "You see, you're supposed to keep things cool. It's why I bought you: to make sure things don't spoil. And yet, it's looking like you just can't do that anymore."

Meagan shut the door and began to rub the side of the appliance. "And when your fridge stops working, you're supposed to get a new one. That's what normal people do. But the thing is, I've had you for a while. Since I first moved here, in fact. I'm used to you, and how you work. I don't want to replace you. So, would you try to hang in there a bit longer, babe?"

She opened the door again, and felt a cool breeze come out. "Good boy." For a moment she considered taking out the soda she had gone to the fridge for in the first place, but decided that it probably wouldn't be cold enough, so instead she closed the door and walked to her couch.

"So, Stevie, show me what's going on in the world," she said just before her television set came to life and flickered to one of the major news workers. Meagan sprawled herself out on her couch and let the images on the screen filter into her head for some time before her phone started to buzz, breaking her from her trance. She reached into her pocket for her phone, and checked her message. It was from Albert.

hey what are you doing tonight?

Hanging with you :p she replied. In time, she got his next message.

alright wanna meet me here or should i come get you?

A gentleman should always pick up his lady.

haha alright I'll see you in a couple hours

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

James fluttered in front of a youth, who was unaware of his presence. The youth could not see James and if he had he likely would not have been sobbing as he was, for no one likes to cry in the company of another. And as the youth cried, James whispered into his ear, words that the youth could not hear but in the darkest places of his mind, words that fed the youth’s sorrow which in turn fed James. Every tear that slid down the youth’s cheek, every pouty sound the youth made, made James feel better, made him feel alive. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the youth began to spill his own blood, and we eagerly waited for that moment, although he worried that the boy might inadvertently take his own life.

But that day was not today. No, this day they youth’s logic managed to quell his sorrow, and it was not long before the tears ceased to fall, before the boy’s chest relaxed. After a time the boy even managed a smile, and it was when he did that that James knew that he would have to wait for another day.

Hungry, James left the boy’s room and began to wander the halls of the complex, looking for his next victim, his next meal. Should he renew a course he had already begun or should he instead start a new one? He walked past many people as he contemplated this and those that saw him stood in wonder and fear before their reason told them to do otherwise. After a time, he walked through a door and into the residence of a young recently-married couple, a couple who were already thinking of divorce due to James’s intervention.

Only the woman was home and was speaking with a friend on the phone. When James saw this, he moved in. He began to whisper into the woman’s ear, telling her secrets and lies, and using these to drive her to sin. The woman resisted but was weak. They had, after all, been at this for some time and her confidence, for herself and her husband, had been dropping for months. But James was boring of this. It was a game he had played many times and had lost any originality. He had hoped it would be sweeter destroying a newly-wed couple, but his hopes were for naught. And so, it was time to end it.

It did not take too long before the woman fell in with his plans. She invited her friend over to her husband’s apartment, and let him in when he arrived. At first, their conversation mirrored the one they had been having on the phone, but the woman would make her move at James’s insistence, and not too long after the two carried on to the bedroom, already filled with the sinful joy that was anathema to James. Useful as this joy might be, it was still very painful, and so James escaped to the apartment above, wherein lived an old widow. Long ago, James had sworn not to touch this one, and stuck to this one oath. The painful memories she carried were no less sweet, though, and while he would never disturb her, he liked to occasionally enter her mind and relive these memories. He enjoyed feeling her pain as her husband was gunned down. He enjoyed feeling her sorrow at the funeral and her loneliness after when she thought she would never marry again, a prophecy that came true despite attempts toward otherwise. These memories were like candy to him.

His reverie would have lasted much longer had the cries of pleasure from below hadn’t turned to screams of fear. The husband was home now, so James moved back down into the couple’s apartment. His plan had gone precisely as he wished. The man of the house came home and caught his wife in the act of adultery. Neither participant attempted to flee his wrath, though, and both lay in the bed, waiting for his judgment, confused and fearful. Even when the husband pulled out the handgun from the end table, the pair was too shocked to attempt flight.

The husband first shot the man, who collapsed as the blood from his head spurted from to the wall and then oozed out to blanket the sheets. The wife looked in horror at the body, but only for a moment, for her husband shot her just as he shot her friend. The first bullet entered her chest but did not kill her, so the husband squeezed the trigger many more times, even though the third shot had killed her. When the gun would no longer fire, the man merely looked at the scene before him with a dumbfounded look of awe.

The angry passion of the moment ebbed and the man came to realize what he had done. He threw the gun across the room and sat on the floor, his head in his hands, tears sliding down his cheeks. James moved up beside him and began to whisper finality into his ears.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

I sat on the other side of the vast dinner table from my host. Both of us silently ate, partly due to the space between us, but more because I had nothing to say. I still didn’t know why this man had summoned me. After all, I had never met him before. I knew of him from my brother, but I was even unsure as to their exact relationship. So, not knowing this man, I had nothing to say to him. Occasionally, as we dined, my host did speak, mostly to his servants, sometimes to himself. The one time I was sure he had spoken to me, I merely nodded in reply and continued to eat.

At that dinner, there was only one thing I was sure of: the food was excellent. There were fruits and meats that were foreign and exotic as well as foodstuffs from our home country. It was this that caused me to eat ravenously despite my nervousness and lack of hunger or appetite.

Once we finished out meals, my host got up and walked out of the room. One of the servants requested I follow him into the den, where my host sat in a large chair. He waved me to a chair near where he sat, and with the same motion waved his servant out of the room. I coughed. I thought nothing of it.

“So, are you finally going to tell me why you called me here?” I asked, voice tinged with annoyance.

“Impatience is a vice,” he responded. “But, yes.” At that word he lifted a glass of red wine that sat on the table beside his chair’s right arm and drank from it. “Your brother was a good worker of mine—“he started.

“Are you going to pay me for his disappearance?” I interrupted, eagerly.

He ignored me. “And, I find that, since his death, my work simply isn’t being done like it once was. I was hoping to find a replacement.”

“Well, that’s fine and good, but I already have a job.” Sure it wasn’t well paying, but I didn’t want to be a stranger’s servant.

“Oh, don’t worry. You can keep that job. I’ll just need you to do some tasks for me from time to time.”

“What kind of ‘tasks’?” I asked, worried.

“Nothing dangerous, I assure you,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. I wasn’t sure what, but something seemed strange about that. Of course, my rational mind denied the thoughts I started having.

“How often will I have to do these tasks?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. After all, if I could do little tasks that cost me virtually nothing and very likely paid well, why shouldn’t it be?

“The schedule is sporadic,” he responded. “You will, however, receive a phone call when I need you.”

“And how much does this pay?”

“Varies, but there is a minimum of 50 dollars a task.’ It may not have been much, but it was still good. I put my hand forward and said, “I’m in.”

After we shook, he called a servant in and had him guide me back to my car. I got in and drove home.


Life went on normally for weeks. I woke up, went to work, went home, went to sleep. The routine went unchanged for weeks. At first, I was fine with this. However, my imagination of what the tasks could be began to excite me. What if my new boss was turning me into some sort of hero? How grand would that be? Of course, there was always that voice in the back of my head nagging me that something was wrong with all of this. I ignored that voice. Perhaps that was a mistake.

Eventually, though, I did receive a call. My side-boss wanted me to pick up and deliver a package for him from the post office. I did so. He paid me. I went home. That was that.

And that was how most of the tasks were. Pick up a package for him. Drop off his package. Occasionally, he had me find someone for him. These tasks made me ashamed of my optimistic ideas for what they could be, but it also quelled that little voice.

There was something else that happened during this time though. I began to become sick, sicker than I had been in years. For me, though, that wasn’t much worse than simply having a bad cough and a nose that ran like a river. This was no debilitating sickness. At first. Of course, there were those painful pimples that had begun developing in various places on my body, but even those were no big worry. Except for the fact that some of them refused to pop, the most stubborn marring my face.


One morning, while I readied for work, I got a phone call from my employer, who wished for me to join him at dinner. I supposed he simply wanted some company. Things must get lonely when the majority of your human contact was with servants who likely could not carry on a conversation. I agreed to join him.

Like our last dinner, I ate ravenously, though the food was not quite as varied or exotic. Like our last dinner, we were quiet for most of it. There was one topic we spoke of that stands out in my memory, though.

“Do you believe people can change?” he asked me, a pondering look on his face.

I gave it some thought and replied, “No, I don’t.”

“Interesting.”

And that was it. That was all there was to the conversation.

When we had finished our dinner, he said to me, “There’s something I’d like to show you.” He got up and walked to a door, turned back to me, and said, “Please. Follow me.” I did as I was told, and followed him into a dark room. When he turned the lights on, I saw a man lying on a bed, his skin a discolored black or green. He had yellow spots all over it. The man looked familiar to me, but I could not place his face at that moment.

“Who…who is he?” I asked, not sure what else to say.

“I’m not sure. One of my servants found him in my yard,” he replied.

“Is he okay?” What a dumb question; of course he wasn’t okay. But, what else should I have said?

“No. He’s near death. However, I’m going to do everything I can to help him.” He turned to me and held out a slip of paper. “Please, go to this address and tell the man that lives there that I want his professional assistance.” I’d be saving a man’s life! I took the paper and left the mansion.


Shortly after I knocked on the man’s door, I began to cough so violently that I crumbled to the ground. Once my seizure ended, I stood, face to face with a man. I relayed the message from my boss. The man stepped back out of the doorway into his house and came outside with a bag filled with what I assumed to be the tools of his profession. Together, we drove back to the mansion. Once there, my boss requested I leave due to the lateness of the hour.


The next morning I woke up vomiting. Naturally, I called in sick at work. Later, when I had the energy to stand, I showered. It was during this time that I noticed the change my pimples had undergone. Rather than being mere pink bumps on my skin, most of them had grown into black bulbs. I examined them with my fingers and found that touching them hurt more than any pain I had ever felt before. Not only this, but they were soft and squishy. I shuddered at the pain I could expect when they would accidently pop.

Following my shower, I began to return to bed when the doorbell rang. Slowly, I made my way to it and answered the door. It was my neighbor. He had noticed that I hadn’t picked up my paper and he wanted to make sure I was okay. I told him I was sick, but it seemed to be a twenty-four hour thing and took my paper from him.

After this brief encounter, I returned to my bed and began to read the paper totally through. There were two articles in particular that at the time I thought pointless, due in part to the size of them, but now held in the upmost importance for my current state. The first was a short article about a man who had been found dead in a ditch fairly close to my home. The article said he hadn’t seemed to die as part of a struggle, but some sort of disease. At the time, his face was disfigured from blisters and he could not be identified. The second article was about the increase in missing persons, and even named some of the people. Many of these names were familiar but in my sickness I could not recall where from. Most likely, they were simply common names.

Shortly after I finished the paper, I fell asleep and slept well into the next day. On this next day, I did wake up nauseous and exhausted, but my mind was clear, so I went to work. That night I got yet another phone call from my boss requesting me to eat dinner with him once again; I supposed he enjoyed my company. Though I did not think I could eat a feast as I had in the past, I agreed to join him.

My expectations were surpassed. Though I went there without an appetite or hunger, and though I began to eat only to be polite, it was not long before I had begun to eat ravenously.

Before I could finish my meal, one of the servants came over to me. “My master requests that I bring you to a couch. You look unwell and he wishes you to rest here.” Though I hadn’t noticed before, I was feeling a bit dizzy and my thoughts were cloudy. So, I went with the servant to a large couch, where I laid down. The servant brought a blanket over and proceeded to tuck me in. I fell fast asleep.


I don’t know how much time had passed when I awoke. I had no reference for time. The room I was in was dark and cold. I was not on the couch I had fallen asleep on, and there was no blanket covering me. I hurt all over. I wanted light. I stood up and walked away from where I woke. As I moved, I heard sounds, like chains moving. I felt a constriction around my ankle, but in my cloudy mindedness, I ignored the feeling and was unable to put two and two together. As I walked, my arms were out, trying to find something. Only emptiness was around me until I found the wall. I tried to walk closer to it, but found myself completely unable to. Something kept me from reaching the wall. Eventually, defeated, I walked away from the wall and collapsed back onto the floor.

I don’t know how long I lay like that, in that dark room, on that cold and hard floor. It couldn’t have been less than hours, and might have been for days. Days I went without eating. It eventually got to the point where I spent all my time sleeping, since I lacked the energy to do anything else. It was during one of these long sleeps that an incredible pain erupted in my side. I awoke and instinctively slapped my hand to the pain, and there I felt a strange slime.

One of my growths had burst and was now a pool of pus.

That growth was the first to do so, but it was far from the last. Another time that seemed like days later, several of them burst at one moment, causing more agony that I thought possible. One on my face, several on my back and arms and legs, one on my chest. All at one time. The scream that erupted from my throat was inhuman.

And, from the darkness, a voice. “Ah. The time has come.” There was a rustling and the sounds of chains. Then, I couldn’t breathe and in seconds passed out.

When I next awoke, everything was different. I was back on the couch I had first fallen asleep on, tucked in. More importantly, though, I was in no pain. No pus was on my body. I felt nourished.

As perfect as all this seemed, I knew there was something wrong when I saw my arms. Skin isn’t supposed to be pale green. Nor are fingertips supposed to be black.

Before long, as I contemplated my current state and the time I had just gone through, my boss pulled a chair up and sat beside me. “I suppose you want answers.” I didn’t respond, but he still began to speak. He began to tell me everything. The true nature of my brother’s and my work for him. How my brother had truly died. What was happening to me and why. Most importantly, he told me what he was, though I still can’t say I truly believe or understand it.

I spent the rest of the day on that couch. At night, I got a strange burst of energy and began to explore the mansion, since I was asked to stay the night. I stayed away from places I felt would be forbidden, namely my boss’s room, and in truth, I didn’t see much of the residence at all. After a time, I returned to the couch and went back to sleep.

In the morning, my boss returned to speak with me, asking if I wanted to go home. I quickly decided I didn’t. This mansion was my home now. When I told him that, he gave me a room key and, using one of his servants, brought me to it. Inside the room, which is the room I currently sit in, there was naught but a bed and a desk with some paper and a pen on it. He thought that perhaps I would like to write some letters for people I had known, or some such. I found that I did not. In fact, I wanted little of anything. I simply went to the bed and laid on it, went to sleep.

By the end of the week, I began to write this account. It’s taken many days, more than one might guess. My boss has not been opposed to this; in fact, he’s encouraged it.

Now, I’m not sure what will happen to me. I feel changes coming over me. The sickness grows worse every day. Every day more of me turn that greenish black color that had first infected my fingers. But, I’m not despairing about this. A few days ago I suppose I was, but now I view it as more of a better way to serve my master. What this new servitude will be, I can only guess, but I suspect that it will end with my death.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

Okay, here's the last one. After this, I'll start actually posting new stuff. Hopefully later today.

---

To say she was beautiful would be wrong. Oh, she had all the right features that would make guys and girls pine for her touch, but it was fake. A façade she ahd constructed because our kind can't stand not being the hottest piece of ass in the room.

But we always get one thing wrong, and we never know what it is. We don't understand why so many humans shiver in fear from us rather than bowing before us. I mean, it couldn't possibly be that underneath all that glam, we're pretty terrifying monsters. Nah, it's probably something wrong with their heads.

Damn, I've been working with humans too long.

---

Additionally, have a link to another project of mine. I unfortunately haven't added much to that story in a while, and won't be doing so in this thread, but I still like the revised product. Don't read the original that's higher up the page, though. It's bad.

Anyway, that's all for now.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

Okay, so, now for a little thing that was inspired by this◊ picture, as well as Digger. Hope whoever's reading this enjoys it.

---

For the first time, it began to feel something. Or, rather, many things. The first was a distinct feeling of cold sweeping along its body, which made sense because of its lack of clothing. Not that it really knew what clothes were, but it did know that it wanted something to get rid of this cold. It tried to burrow deeper into the bulb that housed it, but to no avail. The bulb had opened, after all. Everybody knows that once the bulb opens, it's time to get out. You can't get back in. It's just not how things work.

Though, I suppose we can give this one a pass. It didn't know better, after all.

The second thing it felt was a weight against its chest. The weight wasn't that heavy and it was more comforting than it was painful, but it wanted to know more about this weight in general, and so it began to rub its hands across the surface of it and found that it was quite smooth. Except where it was bumpy and rough. But it preferred rubbing the smooth part. It felt nicer.

Accompanying the big weight were lots of smaller weights, that almost felt like they were digging into its skin in a manner that was not painful but still not pleasant. It tried to swipe these things away, but they kept on walking all over it, and when it realised there was nothing it could do, it went back to rubbing the nice weight on its chest.

Before long, it heard a song. Well, actually, it heard several sounds. There was the chittering of bugs, the cries of various animals, and just the general sounds you hear in a forest. But these were more distinct, more patterned. Roughly, they said something like, “Hey, look at all that movement, it's waking up!”

“Awww look at it trying to swat away its handlers. Just like we did when we were born!”

“Hey, I didn't do anything stupid like that!”

“Oh, shut up! I know you did! I was in the same bulb as you, remember?”

“Maybe you just forget that it was you doing the stupid stuff! I am a man of grace!”

“I already admitted that I did that!”

“And that is why I am your superior!”

“C'mon, Cadfael, you know we're equals.”

“Pffft whatever.”

It had no idea what these voices were talking about. Handlers? Bulbs? Grace? Superior? Equals? Cadfael? So many words coming in so quickly, it wasn't sure how to process them. It was surprised it understood them at all, but it didn't spend too much time thinking about that. Instead, it began to wonder how those other things knew that it was moving. It wasn't like they were feeling it, after all. Or...or maybe they were the short, sharp weights? Or the heavy weight? Oh no, what if it had been rubbing them all along!? How awful that would be! It hoped they weren't offended by its curious rubbing!

That was when the strange prodding started. It began to feel short proddings that were heavier than the short, sharp weights but lighter than the heavy weight on its chest. And then the shouting began.

“Hey! Wake up! C'mon! Rise and shine! Open those eyes! Time to see the world!”

“Hey, Rhys! Look at this! It's got its heart on the outside!”

“Hm. Mam did say it was gonna open a bit early but wow. I wonder if it's even gonna live.”

“Hey, don't say that! You might scare it!”

“And you're the one shouting in its ear!”

It wanted to shout at them and tell them to go away, but it had no idea how those things were making sounds, let alone how it was going to do so.

It was that moment that it remembered something one of the voices had said. Something about “eyes”. It wondered what those were and tried to ask, but it still did not know how to make sound. Instead it ended up frantically moving its arms around.

“Hey, that hurt! Did you see that, Rhys? It hit me!”

“I'd hit you too, if you were shouting in my ear.”

“I need to teach this thing a lesson!”

“Caddy, it's barely alive and may not live much longer. It has no idea that it hit you. Mam's blessing, it hasn't even opened its eyes yet. I doubt it can tell where you are. For all it knows, you're just one of its handlers.”

“What? Handlers don't talk! Everyone knows that!”

“Not this newborn.”

“Hmph. Fine. I won't hit it.”

And that's when it felt the most painful touch that it had yet experienced. It almost felt like some thing had decided to squeeze its skin together or something like that. It yelped in pain, and lunged forward.

“Hey, Rhys, I got it to talk!”

“That wasn't talking! That was screaming! Because you pinched it!”

“Oh, calm down. It made some kind of noise, didn't it?”

It had, but it had no idea how to do it again. As it moved its mouth and tried to make more noises, it felt a very unpleasant poking around its head, and then someone split its head open. Twice. Bright light came into its head, painfully so, and after a moment it began to make out movement and colour.

“Hellooo. Anyone in there?” The shape in front of it, which was holding its eyes open, said. It supposed that this shape was the source of one of the voices it had been hearing.

The shape let go of its eyelids, which promptly closed, and then began to knock on its head.

“Okay, Caddy, enough of this. Let me take over.”

“I was having so much fun, though!”

“Okay, but you're getting us nowhere.”

“Fine.”

It heard a soft rustling, and then felt a warm, soft weight on its shoulder.

“Hello, Little One. Good morning. I'd ask how you feel, but you were born to early to know how to talk, so I guess I'm going to have to teach you that. But I can't do that until you open your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

It remembered the feeling of its face when the rude one was keeping its eyes open and tried to reproduce it. It took a moment or two of struggling, but it wasn't long before it had it figured out, and light began to pour into its head again. After a few seconds of blinking (which was less to focus and more because it was hard for it to keep its eyes open), it finally was able to keep its eyes open, and intently looked at the figure before it.

“What pretty eyes you have! Do you see me, little one? Oh, I suppose you don't know how to answer that. Hm. Okay, just, look at me talking. Doesn't look too hard, does it? Now you try.”

“Heeeeeeeeennnnnnn” It said. It thought it was making progress.

“Oh, mam will never see it at this rate!”

The figure in front of it—Rhys—turned away for a moment, said, “Shut up, Caddy,” and then turned back to it. “That's a good start, but there are no hens around here for miles. And thank Mam for that!” the thing said before making some strange high pitched squeeling sound.

Of course, strange as it may be, it seemed right to make that sound in response. So it did.

“Ooo, you got laughter down real nicely! Okay, so, now, after me, say, 'Mam is great.'”

“Mayum iz gret”
“Close! Close! Okay, we're going to try something else, now.” The thing turned away for a moment and shouted, “Hey, Caddy, do you st ill have that mirror that monkey gave you?”

“Yeah, but what do you want it for?”

“I want the little one to see what it looks like.”

“Hmph. Alright. Just don't drop it. And don't let that thing touch it.”

The thing in front of it caught a flying, silver object, and turned back to it, the “mirror” in front of its face.

It wasn't sure what it was looking at. At once, it was both the, round object, and something...else. Something that looked a bit like the thing that had been in front of it, but at the same time...different. This thing in the mirror completely lacked any colour to its shape, and the shape looked different in many respects, including the fact that there was something in its lap.

It wondered something, and looked down at itself. Resting in its lap was a brown, round object that it could only identify as the heavy weight that had been over its chest when it woke up. It wondered if this was the “heart” that the one known as “Caddy” had mentioned.

And then it noticed its lap. The skin looked very pale, to the point where it could see beneath it. It wondered if all of it looked this way, and it began to move its arms into its field of vision. Not only did its arms lack colour, and not only could it see through them, but it noticed that they looked completely different than the arms of “Rhys”. The shape was generally the same, sure, but Rhys's arms seemed to have some sort of something on its arms that it lacked, and its fingers were pointier than the rounded tips of its own fingers.

Then it remembered something else about Rhys, and began to rub its head. While its ears were about the same as its, it completely lacked the stuff that came out of Rhys's head.

It looked in the mirror again and realised that what it was seeing was itself. It examined itself for only a moment before it began to cry.

“What's wrong?” Rhys said, putting the mirror down on the bulb and moving its arms to hold it.

“Wrong! Wrong!” it shouted, not sure how to say that it thought it looked defective.

“What is?”

“Me! Me!”

“You got that right,” came a voice in the distance.

“Not now, Caddy!” Rhys said. In a softer voice, Rhys said to it, “Why do you think that you're wrong?”

In response, it patted its heart, then Rhys's arms, then its own head.

“Oh, are you worried because I look different than you?” Rhys laughed again, though this time softer and less squeely. “Don't worry about that. You're still young. Younger than you should be, might I add. You'll develop in time.”

At that, it began to feel better about itself, and stopped crying.

“That's better,” Rhys said. “Now, we need to get you to Mam soon, but I have this feeling that you don't know how to walk, yet. Thankfully, I have an idea.”

Rhys moved his hands from around it to its heart in its lap, startling it and causing it to throw its hands over the heart to make sure that Rhys wouldn't be able to take its possession. At that, Rhys laughed and said, “Don't worry. I won't hurt it. I promise.” Slowly, it moved its hands from the brown shape on its lap, but held them near it, just in case Rhys couldn't be trusted.

Rhys brought its heart up to his mouth, and softly kissed it, which caused a strange sensation to spark in the centre of its torso, which then flowed throughout the body, reaching the head last. When it did reached the head, strange visions that were not from its eyes began to form. It saw and heard many things, much of which did not make sense to it.

“So, how do you feel now?” Rhys said.

“Confused,” it replied, perfectly, which surprised it.

Apparently, it surprised more than just it, as it heard Caddy's voice shout, “You fixed it!”

Rhys laughed and said, “It was never broken, you dolt. It was just unformed.”

“Well, its heart is still on the outside!”

From the way that Caddy said that, and the fact that he had said that more than once, it decided that this was probably not the way things were supposed to be, and so it asked Rhys, “Where are hearts supposed to be?”

Rhys patted its chest and said, “Here.”

“I don't feel like I'm missing anything there, though,” it said.

“I don't suppose you would,” he replied. “Still, it is odd. And I think we should get you to Mam now so that we can get this all cleared up.”

Rhys backed away from it a bit, stood up, and four structures flitted out of its back. Rhys looked over its left side and shouted, “Caddy! Get over here! I need your help!”

“Oh, sure, now you need my help,” came a voice from the distance.

“We need to get the little one to Mam so that she can fix it!”

“Doesn't it have wings yet?”

“Caddy, you know that no one is born with wings.”

“I was.”

Rhys growled in response to that. “I'm not arguing with you again. I need you over here. Now.”

In moments, another thing like Rhys and itself landed beside Rhys. “Fine,” the figure that must have been Caddy said. “So, how are we going to do this?”

“I was thinking that you grab an arm, and I grab the other, and then we just sort of fly her down to Mam.”

The plan sounded good to it, except one detail. “What do I do with my heart?”

“We'll put it in my satchel. Don't worry, it won't break.”

It handed its heart to Rhys, who promptly put it in the brown, square thing that hung by its side—which must've been what it meant by “satchel.” It lifted its arms up, and both Rhys and Caddy grabbed an arm . Caddy said to it, “Try to think light thoughts, okay?” and then they were off the branch and away from the bulb.

They flew downward, towards a thicker part of the trunk of the tree the branch they had been on was connected to. Before long, they landed on a very thick branch. There was a small hole in the trunk just above where the branch connected to it, and it was towards that hole that the three walked. “Here, little one. Have your heart back,” Rhys said just before it tossed the heart to it. Thankfully, it caught it without much trouble. It shuddered to think of what would have happened if its heart had fallen.

Rhys and Caddy then bowed toward the hole in the trunk and said, “It's ready for you, Mam.”

With the completion of the sentence something strange began to happen. It couldn't see everything that happened at the hole, dark as it was, but it almost looked like small, slithering branches were coiling around each other. In an instant, a figure had formed, one that both looked like itself, but also different in many ways. For one thing, its skin was made of bark. For another, it was much much bigger than even Caddy was.\\
It guessed that this must be Mam.

It took a few steps forward, out of the hole and past Caddy and Rhys so that it stood in front of it.

“Hello, newborn. I am your mother. Do you know what you are?”

It thought about this for a moment, and replied with a succinct, “No.”

“I thought they might have forgotten something. Rhys, please explain.”

Without standing, Rhys said, “You are a fairy. One of a noble race of beings. We inhabit this forest, and the lands beyond. Mam, here, is the tree that birthed you.”

This seemed odd to it. Not the fairy part. That part felt right. But the fact that Mam was the tree but was also standing here, looking an awful lot like a wooden fairy, made it confused. So it said, “But, you're a wooden fairy.”

Mam laughed and said, “Oh, you have quite a bit to learn. But, I guess they all do, and you most of all.” Mam winked and then asked, “So, what should we call you? What manner of fairy are you?”

“I cannot answer that.”

“Oh, I know. Have you at least decided on a gender? It'll become much easier when you decide on a gender.”

“Gender?” It said, a puzzled look on its face.

“If you do not even know what 'gender' is, then I have to wonder what Rhys and Caddy taught you.”

In defence of himself, Rhys said, “Y'know, how to open its eyes, how to stand up, how to talk. Basic stuff.”

This seemed to shock Mam, who did not look like the kind of person that shocked easily. “You did not know any of those things? My, you were born much earlier than you should've been! My apologies, though I have little control over that.” Mam walked closer to it, and carefully grabbed its heart from its hands. Mam looked at the object for a moment, and then ran a wooden hand down its child's chest.

“I am sorry, little one, but I can only think of one way to fix this, and I do not think it will be very pleasant,” Mam said, a look of pain on its face. “But it must be done.”

It nodded, and then Mam turned the hand that rested on its breast into something very pointy and spikey and jabbed it into its flesh, opening its chest open, causing it to collapse in pain. Mam placed an arm in the way of its fall, catching it, and then placed the heart inside of the hole. A new sort of pain then spread throughout its body, so strong that it went blind and deaf. It only barely felt its flesh start to mend.

After a moment or two, its vision came back, as did its hearing, and the pain began to fade. It was now laying in Mam's lap, who gently stroked its head. “Ah, you're back,” Mam said, softly. “Do you feel any different?”\\
It almost denied any difference, but that was only because it had not realised that now it felt so much more firm. In fact, not only did it feel more firm now, but everything did. It felt like it now understood several things that it hadn't before. It kind of felt like it had just been born, and everything before that was just a dream. Of course, the scar on its chest proved that wrong.

Looking at its chest made it realise that not only did it feel different, but it looked different, too. Its skin was nowhere near as translucent (that was a word it hadn't known before!) as it had been before, and instead seemed to have a light green (another new one!) hue. Its arms still looked different than Rhys and Caddy's, but now it understood, not just knew, that that would change before long. From what it could tell by Mam's stroking, it still lacked hair, but that was another thing it knew would change soon.

After much thinking, it finally said, “Yes. Everything feels different, Mam.”

“That's good,” Mam cooed. “Have you picked a gender, yet?”

“I think I'm a girl,” she said.

“Good,” Mam said. “Now, I think I can name you.”

Mam rested her palm on her forehead for a moment, causing a strange feeling of swelling in her head, and then, just like that, the swelling was gone. Mam looked her in the eyes and said, “You are now Siani. And now, my child, be free.”

And with those words, Mam seemed to vanish, and Siani found herself resting on the branch of the tree, though she felt no change in elevation.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

What were you thinking about when you came up with this piece? The name, the idea, etc. I liked it, though I didn't like the not knowing who is what partway through.

Yeah, trust me, the pronouns were annoying me too. But, Siani didn't know what gender was, so...it seemed necessary.

Also, well, I was thinking about a fairy being born. Duh :P

Also, thanks.

edited 19th Nov '10 5:51:23 PM by LuckyRevenant

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

Of course, being a fairy who was now in tune with her nature, she couldn't sit still for long, and sure enough she jumped up onto her feet after a few seconds that had felt like millenia. When she turned around, she was delighted to see that Caddy and Rhys, still kneeling like Mam was still there. Siani had to wonder if they had just fallen asleep. She knew she would've.

“Hey, gnomes!” she shouted, causing them to stir. “We need to get me some clothes!”

“Five more minutes, Mam,” Caddy said in reply.

“Mam's gone!” Siani said, playfully slapping Caddy upside his head, causing him to jump up.

“Ow!” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “What'd you do that for?”

“Hey, I needed to wake you up. You're thicker than a troll when you're asleep.”

“Would you keep it down?” Rhys said, clearly still asleep. “Some people like the—” He was cut short by a quick kick to his ribs from Caddy.

“If I have to wake up, so do you!”

Holding his side, Rhys stood up, clearly not pleased with this turn of events. “So, what's all this about?”

“I dunno,” Caddy said, cutting off Siani before she could start. “This little heartless one just hit me!”

“Hey, I have a heart!” Siani said, a teasing tone to her voice.

The two glared at her in response.

“Oh, right. Well, I woke you two up because I need to get some clothes!”

“Why? You look fine to me,” Caddy said without a single drop of lust in his voice.

Rhys answered the question for Siani. “Clearly she'd be more comfortable with clothes. Just like us.”

“Me? Clothes?” Caddy started. “Pfffffft.”

Rhys slapped his forehead with his palm, which hurts quite a bit when you've got bug parts covering your hands, causing him to rub his head at where he slapped it. While doing so he said, “You do realise that you're wearing clothes, don't you?”

Caddy looked down at himself. “Well, I suppose I am.”

“So, where do I get some?” Siani said. Her heart may have told her everything she needed to know about being a fairy, but it said nothing about these little details.

“Depends on what kind of clothes you want,” Caddy said in reply, surprising Siani since he actually seemed to want to help. “You want carapace like me and Rhys got on our arms? You want bark? You want some actual fabric, like these pants?”

Siani hadn't given it any thought. The carapace did look pretty cool, but she wasn't sure if it would feel all that comforable on her lower parts, and if the carapace was out there, then the bark was definitely out. Besides, no way it could be flexible. She looked over Caddy and Rhys a few more times and decided what she wanted.

“Could make some gloves and boots from carapace, and shorts from lizard skin?”

Caddy seemed to glow at the answer. In fact, there was no seeming to it. He started giving off a dull, blue light. “I like the way this one thinks, bro,” he said to his twin beside him.

Siani didn't quite understand the enthusiasm that Caddy was literally radiating, and her face must've shown this because Rhys replied with, “You don't know the last time Caddy was asked to kill a lizard.”

Caddy started punching and kicking in the air, fighting imaginary enemies.

“Will it be dangerous?” Siani asked.

“Oh, it will be so dangerous!” Caddy said with a grin. “We could all die! That's the fun!”

“He's just trying to scare you,” Rhys said to her. He then turned to his brother and said, “You are just trying to scare her, right?”

“Nope! Lizards are dangerous as they come,” he said. “At least, the ones that don't run from ya, and those are absolutely no fun to kill.”

When Caddy saw that Siani was looking down in fear, he decided that maybe he should comfort her instead. “But, hey, you don't need to be afraid! I am a mighty warrior!”

Siani, skeptical, looked at Rhys. “That's not a lie, at least,” he said in reply.

“So, where do we start?” Caddy asked.

“Well, that's up to what Siani wants first, isn't it?” his brother replied. At that, the two looked at Siani who, after thinking about it for a moment, decided that she really wanted to cover her lower parts sooner than later. “Pants,” she said with a smile, causing Caddy's blue light to glow even brighter.

“Excellent!” he said. “Now, how are we going to get you to a lizard?”

“You could just fly me again, couldn't you?”

This made Caddy begin to chitter and jump around the branch.

“What's going on?” Siani said, a bit worried that she'd met someone who was very, very crazy.

“He gets like this sometimes,” Rhys said with a smile. “I think he's got an idea.”

“Weird way to show it.”

“Yeah, he's a weird one.”

After a few seconds of freaking out, Caddy came back down to the branch, though he still hovered slightly. “Okay, here's the plan. Rhys and I will carry you around until we find a lizard, and then we'll drop you right on top of it and then BAM you got you some shorts!”

“Problem is, Caddy, carrying her's tiring, and we don't want to all die, do we?” Rhys said in reply.

At this, Caddy landed, his hand on his chin, his light dimming some. After a moment he started glowing brightly again and shouted, “I've got it!” Siani was a bit afraid that he'd start flying around again, but he seemed to have gotten that out of his system. “I'll do some recon, look around for some nearby lizards, maybe find one that's eating and totally off guard, and then we'll come back and get you and then EAT THIS SUCKER!”

This seemed fine to Siani, though she had to ask, “Why don't you just kill it yourself?”

“And waste a perfectly good plan that I may not have another chance to go through with?” Caddy replied with a huge smile on his face. It almost looked like the orange spots in the center of his head would start glowing along with the rest of his skin. Siani had to admit, the plan sounded fun.

“Alright, let's do it,” she said.

“Awesome! I'll be right back!” Caddy said before taking off, his blue light trailing him.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

Darkness and Gold: Your ideas on demons and angels are unique, and this piece was well-written, with a good air of mystery and terror. There are - however - a few typos.

Post #8 was immensely unnerving, and done well.

Post #10 was fun and well-written, and it's certainly interesting to see such servants have developed voices. There should be more stories about what it's like to live in a certain role that we usually over-look.

The same goes for post #14.

Went and read some of the older ones. I dunno what to say about them really other than that they make me want to read more. You've got a gift for this stuff, Lucky. Seriously. It's pretty amazing.

I'd like to apologize to Lucky that the first reply to this not by... her? started with "What were you thinking?"

Grr. Argh.

I would like to enjoy these more, but you have a habit of telling rather than showing. Examples:

Notably, you use some variation of the phrase "_____ began to _____" extremely often, which causes me to feel distanced from the characters extremely often. Make sure to edit those out, and pay attention to any other instances like them in future pieces.

@Kraken and Zudak: Thank you much.

@King Tyrant Lizard: haha It's fine. Also, thank you quite a bit. Also, I'm a guy. I know, you can never tell around here.

@Slan: I know this isn't really a good excuse, but there are a lot of instances that I just don't know how to write, so I end up telling instead of showing. It is something I've worried quite a bit about, and now that I know it's not only noticeable but very noticeable, I'll try to fix such problems in the future. Or maybe even just avoid them all together.

As for the "began to", that's a problem of mine that's annoyed me quite a bit, but another one I'm not entirely sure how to fix. If you have any suggestions, please help me out.

Also, apologies for not putting anything new up in a while. Been busy with school, what with finals coming up.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

How to Show and Not Tell:

Step 1: The Original

First off, take out "the next morning", "naturally", and "later". You are now left with something which may be intimidatingly bare, but that's what padding is for.

Step Two: Padding

Take a look at the verbs. Vomiting, called, showered. That is supposed to be what you want the reader to think for themselves.

The problem with just laying it out on the table is the fact that the readers need to think more when envisioning, since it's so sparse. Sometimes, this is pretty useful. But here you're just describing someone calling in sick at work, and readers don't enjoy thinking a lot about such a commonplace event.

In short: This reads more like an outline of the story instead of the actual prose. The more work you do in describing things, the less readers have to, which in this case is what you want. Replace the verbs with more interesting phrases that describe details of the act, rather than the act itself.

Step Three: Nitpicking and Rearranging

It looks better at this point, but ultimately still reads like a list. This is where varying the sentence structure and condensing or separating come in, and is a highly personal step. The following is an example of how it would look with my own style of writing. Also notice I've put some of the formerly cut things back in.

Step Four: Celebrating A Reasonable Improvement

Yay, you've made a reasonable improvement! This calls for cake!

edited 30th Nov '10 11:05:32 AM by Slan

Wow, that was incredibly helpful. Thanks a lot, man.

Of course, that was all you. I don't deserve cake, yet. Maybe, when I have the time later this week, or hell when I'm not studying next week, I can go back through what I've already posted and try to make some improvements, starting with the lines you've already pointed out and working from there.

And then I shall feast on cake and ice cream.

There are also a couple of things I've already posted that I've since added to, and might edit those additions in.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

So, it's been entirely too long since I've posted in this thread. I just haven't been writing. It's not that I haven't tried to write. I have. It's just that every time I do, I get frozen with fear that I'm telling too much, or something. No kidding, a couple of times I wrote like a single sentence, and got too frustrated with figuring it out, and quit.

However, that's not a great excuse. Particularly since the stuff I post in this thread was never meant to be gold, and I could always revise things to make them better.

I've made a New Year's resolution to continue writing, and while I know that doesn't sound like a big deal, I rarely make resolutions, and when I do, I tend to stick with them for at least a few months.

I think I need to schedule myself for it. I'm considering every Saturday, when I wake up, get on my computer, first thing, and write. I'll potentially write more, depending on how classes go. It currently looks like I have a looot of reading to do every night, though, so I dunno. We'll see.

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

Good luck. I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with.

At the small tub that jut out from one of the stone walls of his small home, Norlen wrung an old cloth, then dampened it again, then wrung it again. He repeated this simple ritual over and over, and once he was finally satisfied, he walked over to the bed that rested in the centre of his hut and carefully laid the cloth on the forehead of the man who lay upon it. At this, the man stirred awake, something that Norlen only knew from the dim light his golden brown skin began to give off.

“Good morning, Norlen,” the man said, to which Norlen responded with a nod, a motion that he knew the empty eyes of the man would not be able to see. And yet, the man still responded. “Still unwilling to speak to me? I had hoped that after all this time you would've learned.”

“I am unworthy,” Norlen barely whispered. At this, the man gave a pathetic, wheezy laugh and said, “Child, I do not care about what you did prior to finding me. These years have proven that you are quite worthy to speak with me.” His face took a grim twist to its features, and he said, “Perhaps more worthy than any other.”

Norlen snorted in reply. He was no priest. He hardly knew the proper rituals for a dying man, let alone that which lay in his bed. He didn't know if there even were rituals for whom he tended to, and thus the actions he did more than once a day—wetting the cloth and laying it on his head, readjusting the man's blanket, feeding him, taking out the man's bedpan, lighting the candles and putting them back out hours later—took on a ritual quality to them. He even built an altar in his home, though he doubted that it had much true spiritual worth.

At the sound of one of the man's coughing fits, Norlen was taken out of his thoughts. Anticipating the worst, he picked the bucket by the man's head up, bringing it closer to his mouth. After a moment, the coughing ceased, and the man looked at Norlen with a smile. “Not today, my friend.” Norlen set the bucket back down, and then readjust the blanket, chanting a short prayer as he did so. As he did so, the man said, “Today.” Norlen nodded grimly, knowing precisely what the word meant. Norlen wondered how much longer it would be, and as if in response, the man said, much more quietly than the last word, “Soon.”

Though the hut did not need the extra light, this caused Norlen to go around and light the candles on the walls, feeling that doing so provided a better setting for a dying man. Before long, the man's breaths turned to wheezes, and with every one a golden mist was expelled from his mouth. Though the mist always disappeared, it left the room feeling very heavy, to the point where Norlen found it hard to breathe, and was forced to his knees. Before long, the candles started going out, and no light seemed to be able to reach the hut from outside, leaving the dim glow from the man's skin as the only light in the room, and with every exhale that light grew dimmer.

The wheezes turned to another coughing fit, but only briefly, and then the only light source in the room was extinguished.

________________________

Sorry that it just kinda ends there. If anyone wants I can try to add more, but I kinda liked it there.

edited 22nd Jan '11 11:34:25 AM by LuckyRevenant

"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."

Aside from those minor grammatical errors, there's nothing wrong with it, as far as I'm concerned.