Once the world was formless and infinite and thick. The greater gods swam through the void, content in their life. Until one swam down towards the center of the void, curious about the extent of his world. This greater god was called Reust, and he was the youngest of the greater gods. Reust swam and swam downwards into the void, deeper than anyone before him.
As he swam the void became heavier and his journey became more strenuous. Reust became tired as he swam and decided to rest. Deep within the center of the void he curled up and slept, becoming the land. The other greater gods became curious and sought out Reust in the center of the void and found him curled up in a deep sleep.
The other greater gods crowded around their young companion and saw the happy peace in his sleep, having accomplished his goal of reaching the center. They each offered up small gifts to the young god.
Ange gave the sleeping Reust a blanket to protect him from the cold, creating the sky. Iranu brought the sleeper nourishment, a flask of water to slake his thirst, and created the oceans. Veyph provided the gift of dreams, populating Reust’s sleep with companions. From Reust’s dreams bloomed the first people who populated the land that had been provided for them by the elder gods.
Ad’kal, the eldest of the elder gods, looked at Reust and the gifts around him and found nothing that he could give the young sleeper to comfort him. He thought on this for a long time, debating what he could give Reust that would help him. Eventually he realized that Reust would never be satisfied in peace and gave him the gift of strife.
The gift of nightmares introduced evil into the world, and created death in the world.
The elder gods watched the sleeper, knowing that his sleep would not last forever.
dysfunctional human artistry"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
edited 19th Aug '10 10:43:25 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."Interesting. At first I was reminded of the Young Wizards series. I like it so far. I wanna see more.
dysfunctional human artistryQuestion: do the little mundane actions come off as awkward?
"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."I think they were fine. At the length it is now the mundane actions don't feel mundane. If it was a full length novel or even a good length short story I might feel different.
dysfunctional human artistryAwwww nuts. I had a short story planned out like this, but she was talking to her appliances because her house was haunted by a benevolent if confused and saddened ghost, and it was the easiest method of communication.
Also, I agree with the length making the mundane actions quite tolerable.
edited 19th Aug '10 10:18:40 PM by Leradny
Alright, that makes me feel a bit better. And maybe as I keep writing and get a better feel for the story, I won't have to fall back on those as much.
Also, Leradny, I wouldn't worry. My character has a completely different reason for talking to her appliances, which I plan on making more clear in the next update.
"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."The Puppet Theatre
...The conduct of man, so long as his nature remained as it is now, would be changed into mere mechanism, where, as in a puppet show, everything would gesticulate well but no life would be found in the figures-Immanuel Kant''
The stage, which others call the universe, is our home. It is mostly sparse, but for the lights from above and the strings which connect to the limbs of every man, woman, and child.
The strings move in various ways. When we move as the strings move us to, we feel happy. When we move against them, we feel sad. But the movements of the strings and the shades of our emotions are for the most part, so subtle that it is hard to know the right way. Sometimes it feels right to move against them, and wrong to follow them.
Various theories have arised to explain this arrangement. The first is that the movement of the strings is entirely random. This has been given little credence, for the movements demanded show a kind of purposefulness. The most popular is that a man with no strings moves them. He directs us toward grand ends of his own design, and he will reward us with rest once we have fulfilled his will. We feel proud of our freedom, and pride in our glorious fulfillment of duty when we choose the right way to move.
But there is a secret fear. For if the top of the stage was removed and we could see how the strings were pulled and see his intentions on his face we would never know freedom and glory again. We could not, but move in the ways that he would wish us to move. We would move for fear and selfishness, but never from duty. The mysterious artistry would turn to horrific mockery.
We thus, do not inquire to closely into the workings of the universe. Not for fear that reality will not be as it appears to us, but the fear that it will.
edited 19th Aug '10 10:38:11 PM by Myrmidon
Kill all math nerdsIn a time before humanity, there were great and magnificent beings.
These Gods, or Powers as they called themselves, were androgynous, shapeless beings at the time of our story, sans one. The Powers created many worlds and many universes, but our story takes place before the creation of most of them. Our story is mostly concerned with one universe, and one world: Ceatryn, the home of the Powers.
At Ceatryn, the Powers were getting drunk at a party, not with human beer, of course, but with the unpredictable chaos of the universe, which stewed forth from a cauldron. What few creations had been made by the Powers had complete understanding, and lived in a completely ordinary world because of the consumption of the universe’s chaos by the Powers.
Qvaste was a Power of Intellect. She had noticed that the universe’s chaos was increasing, and that someday it would overflow its cauldron. In an attempt to place a lid on the cauldron of chaos, she ended up falling in herself, and being completely covered in chaos and confusion.
In this befuddled state, Qvaste accidently created a creature sort of like herself: a creature with an intellect that could ask questions and gain knowledge. But because of her puzzled state, the creature ended up being unpredictable, ignorant, and imaginative. The creature was shaped with two hands and two feet, just like the preferred form of many of the Powers.
When Qvaste became sober and orderly, she attempted to destroy her creation, but was stopped by the pleas of another Power, called Helorrah, who was the Power of Love.
“Look at it, it’s so cute.” cried Helorrah. “I’ll take care of it, Qvaste, you’ll see. It won’t freeze to death, I’ll warm it up.” And so the creature gained the quality of love from its new caretaker.
Vom, the Power of Violence, borrowed the creature and gave it a violent quality, which actually saved the creature’s life several times.
Shortly thereafter, all the Powers had taken care of, gifted, and left an individual mark on the creature.
“Gaa goo goo gaa” said the creature, inadvertently giving the Powers the much better name of Gods.
“Maa naa maa na” said the creature, giving itself it’s name: Man.
Never be without a Hat! Hot means heat. I don't care if your usage dates to 1300, it's my word, not yours. My Pm box is open.I wrote this story when I was bored in German last year. It's about a cult which aims to take over the world using these mood necklaces. This is my prologue (unedited)
Later, the three visitors left the room. When they entered, they wore simple clothes. When they left, they had a necklace around their necks: a small diamond attached to a silver chain. No-one exchanged any words, and they silently left the building into the busy streets of the city.
If you mean the necklaces change or otherwise control the mood of the wearer instead of telling the world what they're feeling, you might want to change the name. Also, "hated being unpunctuality" is probably a typo—just remove the "being" and you're set.
As a prologue, even though they usually feature one major and usually cryptic scene, it's far too short. It does, however, raise a few interesting ideas such as how people actually don't look at chairs as much as tables or doors.
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 15th Sep '10 3:51:11 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."It's gonna be more a blend of Cyberpunk, Space Opera, Noir, and maybe some Fantasy.
"I can't imagine what Hell will have in store, but I know when I'm there, I won't wander anymore."Yeah, I am too haha.
It's very loosely planned right now. As in, I only sort of have a plot. I wrote that last night mostly to get teh image out of my head.
edited 8th Sep '10 7:02:11 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."

That made my night.