Lucky's Tale Spinning

nargleblargehatelaylie

Thanks.

edited 22nd Jan '11 11:33:55 AM by LuckyRevenant

So, I know I said I would try to write something every week, but I've been pretty busy with school stuff lately, making it hard to really do so. I will try to write something tomorrow, though. Just in case I can't, here's a link to the story I wrote for the last TV Tropes writing contest. Got fourth out of eight, I think, so it can't be too bad.

Bedecked in full regalia, Hunan walked up the dark stairwells of the prison tower. He had long ago left the lower floors and now the screams of innocence that were so common there had become little more than a faint echo. Hunan noticed that if he tried, he could even turn it into a bit of a song.

Eventually, Hunan came to a point where the stairs stopped. The topmost floor. He walked through the archway then, and was facing the metal door to the single room on this floor.

“I would speak to him,” he spoke to one of the two guards. The door was opened, he stepped through, and the door was closed behind him. The room beyond the door was not very large, he knew, though the fact that he couldn't see the walls made it seem like it stretched on forever into the darkness. His lantern did little to brighten the room either. In fact, it almost seemed as though the darkness was trying to reach out and extinguish his light, but Hunan knew that thought was one born of fear of the man who sat opposite him, chained to the wall by his foot.

“Are you awake,” Hunan asked into the darkness.

“Of course,” came a voice back. “Is it time again?”

Silence.

“You come here, and you ask me those damn questions, and I give you answers, and then you leave.” The chain made a sound, as if the man were moving. “I guess it is time. Go ahead. I'm ready.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Yes, yes! That damn question!” There was a snort in the darkness. “And, as always, the answer is because I had to. But that won't be enough for you. No, you want to ask me what that means, but you never do.”

A wad of spit came out of the darkness and landed directly on Hunan's breastplate, which he tried his hardest to ignore, as though he didn't even see it. He didn't want to give this man any rewards for his actions. Instead, he took a breath, and asked his next question.

“What happened on the expedition?”

There was a cackle. “Old boy, you've changed the question a bit! Instead of 'to' it's 'on'!” Another cackle, then a sigh. “Pity you're still not going to get the answer you want.”

“What happened on the expedition?”

Another sigh. “We died. And those who didn't came out changed men and women.”

Hunan started to rub his forehead when Ghol began to answer. “Yes, but how?” he said with an annoyed tone.

“How? You sent us into the desert with barely enough supplies and you wanted us to reach the mountains south of them! You damn well know how!”

There was a silence, then a sigh from the darkness. “Fine. You want to know how we changed? Somewhere, I don't know where, we saw the Forges—”

“That's impossible!” Hunan said.

There was a laugh, and then, “Impossible? No. No, Hunan, we found the Forges. And you know what else? They were still lit!”

At that, Hunan stepped into the darkness and grabbed the man by the neck, lifting him up. “How dare you blaspheme!”

Ghol's response was a punch to Hunan's gut, a blow so powerful he could feel even through his armour, making him drop Ghol and stagger backwards.

“What a sad day when the truth is blasphemy,” came the voice in the dark.

“How...did you do that?” Hunan asked between gasps for air.

A grunt. “Seeking a way to end our pain, we stepped into the fires of Creation.” A sigh. “Didn't go how we expected, though.”

Finally, Hunan was able to stand himself upright again, and said, “I think that's all today.”

A laugh, then, “But you must be full of questions now!”

Hunan knocked four times on the door.

“Like, can this cell hold Ghol? Can those guards stop him if he wants out? What will he do if he gets out?”

The viewer in the door slid open, and Hunan's eyes met the guard's.

“Let me tell you something, Hunan.”

The door slowly creaked open, rays of light coming into the windowless room.

“You don't have to worry about me getting out.”

Hunan took a step through the doorway.

“Because when he comes back, I will be the safest man in Ceme!”

The guard closed and locked the door behind Hunan.

In a whisper, Hunan said, “Lessen the amount of food and water he gets.”

“Yes, sir!” The guard said in reply, but Hunan was already scrambling down the stairs.

“Comin to check in on us little people, eh big man?” Tommy Garerra said as he opened the door, an old friend standing outside it. “Come in! Come in!”

“Well, Tommy, you know, sometimes you have to get away from all the cheap lights and big women,” his guest said as he took off his hat and coat, throwing them on the nearest piece of furniture. That was one thing he had always liked about Tommy: no stupid clothing racks next to the front door. You took off your hat and coat—by yourself, mind you, and only if you wanted to—and you threw them on the nearest piece of furniture, as if to say that for the time that I will be here, this spot shall be mine.

“So, big guy, what can I do ya for?” his most gracious host asked. “Been a while since you come 'round.”

“Yeah, Tommy, I know,” the guest said, taking a seat on the couch where he had thrown his coat as he did so. “And, I told you earlier, I had to get away from all the glitz and glamour back there. Hoped I could see some old friends and forget about it all.”

“Ah, I'll get us some whiskey then!” At that he walked into the kitchen, came back out with a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shot glasses, which he quickly filled up, setting the whiskey in the middle of the coffee table that sat between Tommy and his guest.

“So, look, I know you came here to forget about your life, but I have to ask: what should I be callin ya? I mean, you went and did that crazy publicity stunt and now everyone's callin ya 'Red'.”

“You can call me Dick, like you always have.”

“And, well, that's another thing, Dick. I mean, that weird symbol looks nice and all, but it's not a name y'know? And, besides, what's wrong with 'Dick'?” Dick smirked at that. “Oh, you know what I mean,” Tommy said with an immature smile.

“It's like this, Tommy. These guys, these record company guys, they owned my name, now. Trademarked it, copyrighted it, whatever. So, now tv shows and books and what have you have to pay just to use my name, and it's ridiculous!” Dick sighed and poored himself another shot of whiskey, then continued. “So, I had this idea, right? I would go and make my own name up. And, so, I done it. I got my own name now. And I'm the only one who owns it.”

“Well, that's nice and all, but Dick, I mean, c'mon. That symbol is not a name!”

“Oh? And why not?”

“Well, first of all, how do you pronounce it? You can't pronounce it any more than you can pronounce a cross!”

“I think you just pronounced cross.”

“Oh, Dick, you know what I mean. I mean, a cross isn't a cross, y'know?”

“Yeah, I think I know what you're sayin. And, I gotta say, I have no idea how to pronounce it either.”

“So, why'd you pick that, instead of, say, a real name?”

“Came to me in a dream.”

“Oh, really now? Well, I guess that's reason enough.”

“Don't be sarcastic with me, Tommy! Anyway, I think that's enough about me,” Dick took another few shots before continuing. “Tell me about you.”

And so the two continued to drink through the night. At first, Tommy spoke of his life. Telling about how his wife Cheryl had left him, not to be with another man, or even another woman, but simply because she couldn't stand him anymore. Talked about how his brother had come to stay with him, and how they both tried to get their feet back on the ground, using each other for support. Robby died shortly in a factory accident a few months later, though.

Tommy had been managing to do well for himself, all things considered. After Cheryl had left him, he quit his job and started hanging around the bars. When Robby started stayin' with him, he decided to start working at his favourite of these bars, and there he still worked. Dick had been lucky that he had come in on Tommy's night off, Tommy began to repeatedly tell him.

After that, the two started sharing stories of their childhood, those memories being all the two truly had in common anymore. They talked about their high school sweethearts, and the terrible men they married. They talked about regrets and things they would've done differently if they could. As the night went on and the bottle emptied, they even talked about secret things they had told no one else, and would not remember hearing or telling in the morning.

It wasn't until noon that Dick woke up, with a blistering hang over. Luckily for him, Tommy had been awake for a while, and had already prepared two cups of his classic hang over remedy: coffee with bacon grease in it. Dick couldn't help but notice that the bacon the grease had to have come from was absent.

In silence, the two drank their coffee, and then Dick spoke. “Tommy, I'm really glad I came here last night.”

“Ah, what're friends for, Dick?” Tommy said with a big smile. “Tell you what, when you finally give up on the whole game, I've got a place for you here.” Dick knew he wasn't being honest, but he still thanked him, and then he grabbed his coat and hat and left.

Dick had been driving around the city for a while before he decided where he was going. He still wasn't ready to return to his real life, so instead he went to one of the flea-bag hotels he frequently stayed in when he was doing things he didn't want the public to know. When he opened the door to his room, he heard a voice from within.
“Hello. I'm the thing whose name you've stolen.”

I can only speak for myself, but I'm still reading this thing, at least, and enjoying it, so don't stop, Lucky.

Hm. Well, you are basically my only reader, so I guess I can try to finish it later. Maybe later today.

They had me sprawled out and shackled to the stone slab. They had placed large candles in the palms of my hands, and had no regard for me as the burning wax oozed onto my bare skin. Chanting resounded through the room, bouncing off the stone walls, amplifying the sound, the power, of every word, which drowned out my screaming as they carved my skin with their knives—knives that did not feel like they were made from metal. The smells of burning flesh, steaming piss, blood, and bad hygiene filled the air.

At that moment, these were the only things I knew, and you'll notice the lack of description of how things looked. I would love to be able to share that with you, but scooping out my eyes was one of the first things they did when they found me. The last thing they did was slit my throat, and rubbed some sort of powder into the wound.

Perhaps you think it's odd that I'm starting the story here. Maybe you think I've simply decided to start the telling from this dramatic moment so I could then go back and show you how I got there, but let me tell you: what happened before this moment, did not matter. Who I was before this moment is irrelevant. If you really must know, I was a guy who worked a nine to five job as a retail store's manager. I didn't stumble into some dark conspiracy or anything, either. One day, I got in a taxi after work, and let's just say that the cabbie brought me far from home.

Now, though, I'm so much more. Not that those silly cultists could have guessed that. They probably thought their silly idol devoured my soul. You questioned why I started this story with my death? Well, you should know that now.

So, what was next? Well, you know that feeling when you wake up from a bad dream? It was something like that. They cut my throat, put that powder in the wound that made it bleed faster, and I felt myself slip away, as if I were dozing into sleep. Immediately afterward, I opened my eyes and was in a very, very dark place. That's not to say there was no light, but what light there was was nothing that one could see by, and seemed very far off. Because of this I could hardly see the many bodies around me, but I could hear their shambling, their crying, their screaming, and while they were not close to me at all, it sounded as if they were right beside me, or even on top of me.

That was a realm of movement. Even the ground seemed to crawl, and all of it went to one place. Earlier I said that the light seemed to be far away, and that was partially true, though I can't really explain that. What I can say, however, is that this place was so dark and hazy because of the thing at the centre of the realm: the dark god I was sacrificed to. To be honest, the thing wasn't really evil, it simply needed souls for nourishment, and human souls are the most nutritious, but try telling that to someone.

I, Hoenath the Boar, do write this Last Will with sound mind and reason, and with the hope that this will indeed be my Last Will. Unlike that one, this one shall be much shorter, for after much consideration and discussion, I have elected to leave all my property, from the Starfall Hills to Jewel-In-God's-Eye Mountain, as well as the allegiance of all my vassals, to my only son, Fjaellel the Black.

May he rot in the Deadlands.

edited 15th Jul '11 4:25:39 PM by LuckyRevenant

I didn't know you had a thread here! Once I'm done with my daily does of Buffy, I'll have to force myself to read this, cause I'm a wicked bad procrastinator.

Oh lord now I'm scared.

Don't be. You have another reader! Well, a potential reader. I haven't actually read anything yet.

edited 15th Jul '11 4:29:36 PM by MrAHR

I don't think you'll be disappointed, AHR...

Thanks, Zudak.

Also, AHR, you'll find this thread is full of unfinished stories. I hope that doesn't bother you too much. I might go back to some of them in the future, though. Or not!

This is edge of your seat stuff.

First story:

This one seemed nice in the atmosphere, but I found I had trouble reading it. Even music in the background was distracting enough for me. I don't know why, it just was hard to get through.

Second story:

Deja vu. Did you link this to me before?

I definitely read this before.

...

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT? D:

Third:

The sudden use of the first person is jarring, especially since it doesn't really show up afterwards, sticking to 2nd person.

This seems part creepy pasta part...short story I read before about a guy who meets up with an old friend, who really isn't his old friend.

It makes me feel all dazey like. Like...I dunno, detached, but...almost as if that was the point. Like, a bad thing happened, but it's over now, and I have nothing to worry about, for some strange reason.

Fourth:

This is the first entry that actually seems like a story to me. Like, I didn't glaze or anything, I was set in, and I had to tear myself away so I could type this thought up.

This is a rather lacking sentence. Are you gonna tell us how?

The conversation seems to be a bit rushed. I would have liked to see the pacing drawn out a bit more, a bit more time spent at the place, a bit more time spent on Dave reacting to the guy being there, stuff like that.

TO BE CONTINUED.

I do agree that the first one is hard to read; that was actually part of the point. It didn't work out quite like I wanted it to, though. And thanks for the atmosphere comment, since that was one of the most important things about the story.

I think I might've linked you to the second before, but I don't remember for sure. It was one that I was quite proud of, though. As for what happened next, I never really decided.

I'm glad I was able to evoke precisely what I wanted to evoke with the third story. I apologise for the person change. I can't say I remember why I did that. If I ever get around to rewriting it, as I genuinely wish to do since I wrote it years ago and glancing over it I see a million mistakes, I'll fix it.

If the fourth story feels rushed, that's because it was. I wrote it during class, and only had about thirty minutes to write it. I was trying to get as much out of my head as I could in that time. I'm probably never going to really rewrite it, since both characters have changed a lot in my head, but I may write a similar scene some time.

As for the sentence you quoted, I should've said this in story, but since I didn't: Evan was dressed more like a high school teacher, with a button down shirt, sweater vest, etc, whereas everyone else was dressed either like a stereotypical magician or a Criss Angel-styled magician.

Another thing that might be good for you to know is that these stories aren't really presented in order of writing, particularly at the beginning. For instance, out of the four you read, the second one is the most recent, as I wrote it Fall Semester 2010. The third and fourth stories were both written during my junior year of high school, and the first story was during senior year. I think the earliest story I have posted is number six, which I do believe I wrote during my sophomore year of high school.

I guess if the quality of the work seems to jump around a lot, that could be a reason. (Could also be that I'm just not very good, which I accept.)

Also, most importantly, I'm glad that you seem to be enjoying these so far! I hope to continue to do so!

edited 16th Jul '11 12:23:31 AM by LuckyRevenant

Yo yo yo. I'm back.

Fifth:

At first I was all lol

Then I was all creepy lady

Then I was all wha...?

Then I was all wut.

Sixth:

This is long windedy. This one is also a bit hard to get through.

Interesting POV though. You definitely get the idea of...not a deity...but certainly some smart sort of thing is the one speaking, you know?

Also, I was a bit nervous as I read it. My mind...being er...my mind, kept expecting some sort of rape to pop out around the corner, especially once the couple showed up.

Also, I am pretty sure you linked this to me as well, once before, because I remember reading the ending.

Seventh:

The first emotion I get is cold. Like, neither person likes the one sitting across from them.

The food is rather telly, not showy. I mean, food porn is annoying, but a little elaboration would have been nice.

Or maybe I'm just hungry.

Dunno why, but that adverb totally killed the mood for me.

Is that dude the brother?

...

And now I want to stop reading.

Not because it's bad, but because I am very bad with horror.

...and I'm scared to read what happens next.

Well, if you want you can skip it, though I do like that story quite a bit. Obviously it needs work, but still.

And, don't worry, one of the stories coming up is quite light-hearted. There might be some pronoun confusion, though.

Well, I'll only skip it if you think it ends reasonably scarily.

I'm up to the part with the black pimples and the shower, which is when I started getting body horror vibes.

...I am fine with transformations, it's just that when they're done too horror-like...yeah.

I guess it's fairly horror-y. By my standards it's pretty tame, but you probably have lower standards than I do of what's scary. IIRC, it's more atmospheric than anything.

Okey.

I skimmed it, and yeah, you're right, more atmospheric than scary. :)

Eight:

Total Sophisticated as Hell vibes.

Sounds like a monster detective sort of dude.

I was going to stop at 8 with the first post, but I got distracted by the worry of nightmares.

The guy's actually a hitman, but I understand how you'd have gotten that idea.

Also, posts 10 and 14 are the same story. I think the only time I've continued a story in this thread. It's also somewhat lengthy, so if you wanted to take a break, I'd understand.

I would eagerly await your return, though. Mostly because I had a whole lot of fun writing the next story and can't wait to see what you have to say about it.

Trying to do 4 a day.

Clearly, I keep forgetting.

haha It's fine. Just read them as you can.

I'll also try to update soon. I've been thinking of a few stories, but thus far I've not really had the time to write. I'll try to do something tonight when I get home, though. And if I don't tonight, you can probably expect the next update on Thursday.

It'll probably be actiony. I need more practice with writing action, so yeah.

I feel like I'm looking at something from Fern Gully. Or Avatar.◊

Nine:

MARVELOUS job on the technobabble.

Or should I say fantasybabble?

Point is, I can understand what is going on, so props to you!

ಠ_ಠ

So...how does it understand english, or whatever language it's speaking?

I liked it.

I like this a lot.

I want you to make a cartoon out of this, because I think it would be a gorgeous place to look at and watch.

Yes.

However, I think the descriptions were a bit lacking. I'd have liked to get a better feel for Caddy, Rhys and Mam, at the very least, once it got the heart all stuffed in.

Ten:

Blimey, Rev. All you need to do is add elemental powers into the world and you'd have me dead set on wanting to go here. God the little kid in me was brimming with excitement once you started to elaborate on clothes. Lizard clothing. Frikking awesome.

Tinkerbell, GTFO. These guys are WAY cooler.

Eleven:

...

DAMMIT MAN.

GO BACK TO THE FUCKING FAIRIES.

;_;

This story seemed...tired/tiring. Kinda like his situation. Like it's supposed to be that way.

Twelve:

Second page hells yeah.

First impression I'm getting: Dark Purpley grimdark.

Hunan: A simple yet impressive name. Nice.

The action is kinda meh though.

This seems just kind of...in passing, and not as brutal as I think it was supposed to be.

Also, kinda odd how it goes from paragraphs to line line line line.

She may not know how to talk, but she knows how to listen. Not just hear, but listen.

It's a rather odd trait for fairies.

And hey, I like Siani...

Anyway, I do want to continue this story some time. In fact, I even know what happens next, and it introduces a new character and everything. However, I just hadn't been feeling like continuing at the time so I moved on to something new.

Also, IIRC, there are some people with elemental powers.

In regards to the rest: oh nooo that wasn't supposed to be grimdarky. Just kinda darky. Like, shade at night time. Ah well.

Also, I know I said I'd try to get something new up today, but I really am waay too tired. Like, I slept four hours today, and they were in the middle of the day. Soooo yeah.