THAT'S WHAT I SAID DAMMIT
edit: Derp I was in the middle of editing my post when you posted. WAYTOGO.
Short Story Time
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lyra/dicks
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And she lay there. He was hours late, her wounds were already bled dry, and the snow around her frozen corpse had already been soaked in the red ichors that a living being would require. Her eyes were open and her mouth was caught mid gasp. The death hadn’t been instantaneous, obviously. A massive gash had been entrenched into her mid-section. Her assailant had left her to die in the harsh winter, knowing full well that she had no hope. Too imagine her dying, struggling for life, brought an unimaginable pain to him. To imagine that it wouldn’t happen if he had been quicker.
He let her die.
He cried out to what malevolent god had abandoned her in her hour of need, it was his fault. That god had a chance to save her, to save someone so innocent. No god would ever let her die. No true god worthy of devotion and prayer. This had all been engineered by a demon; a foul conspirator who sought the anguish of men.
Godless.
And who could he have to help her? Who did she have to help her? Why did no one help her? Why did no one escort her to what stupid trivial task that she had to perform?! To what end did she think it was a good idea to waltz out under such a remote bridge in such extreme weather conditions!? This isn’t possible; this isn’t the girl he knew. She would never be so dumb.
Helpless.
If this is a world where the innocent die and the depraved roam free, then there is no justice for men and as such there is no man. For without justice barbarity is presented. Animals, everywhere: corrupt, insane, uncontrollable, savage, bloodthirsty hellhounds.
Revenge
Yes.
Yes, that’s it.
This is insanity.
Such blood spilled, and for what reason, exactly?
None. There is no justification for the murder of a child.
He was going to find the bastard, the monster that sought her out and killed her, and he was going to tear him to pieces. He was going to shoot him until that monster turned into nothing but a fine jelly. To eviscerate him, annihilate him entirely and then obliterate him from existence in absolution.
His blood boiled, fuelled by the atrocity at which he had seen, at which he was helpless to prevent. Some would say that murder would have run through his mind, but it wasn’t murder to him. It was nothing more rudimentary than when a police man arrests a criminal. He would invoke justice upon a society that was absolutely foreign to the word.
twenty minutes also batman
He let her die.
He cried out to what malevolent god had abandoned her in her hour of need, it was his fault. That god had a chance to save her, to save someone so innocent. No god would ever let her die. No true god worthy of devotion and prayer. This had all been engineered by a demon; a foul conspirator who sought the anguish of men.
Godless.
And who could he have to help her? Who did she have to help her? Why did no one help her? Why did no one escort her to what stupid trivial task that she had to perform?! To what end did she think it was a good idea to waltz out under such a remote bridge in such extreme weather conditions!? This isn’t possible; this isn’t the girl he knew. She would never be so dumb.
Helpless.
If this is a world where the innocent die and the depraved roam free, then there is no justice for men and as such there is no man. For without justice barbarity is presented. Animals, everywhere: corrupt, insane, uncontrollable, savage, bloodthirsty hellhounds.
Revenge
Yes.
Yes, that’s it.
This is insanity.
Such blood spilled, and for what reason, exactly?
None. There is no justification for the murder of a child.
He was going to find the bastard, the monster that sought her out and killed her, and he was going to tear him to pieces. He was going to shoot him until that monster turned into nothing but a fine jelly. To eviscerate him, annihilate him entirely and then obliterate him from existence in absolution.
His blood boiled, fuelled by the atrocity at which he had seen, at which he was helpless to prevent. Some would say that murder would have run through his mind, but it wasn’t murder to him. It was nothing more rudimentary than when a police man arrests a criminal. He would invoke justice upon a society that was absolutely foreign to the word.
twenty minutes also batman
I decided to build a boat in dwarf fortress. A big, towering ocean liner, something to drive fear into the hearts of goblins everywhere. Something to tackle mighty waves in an instant, and stand ready, declaring "We are dwarves, and we will master the very ocean itself." Bold? Perhaps. Rash? More than likely. Glorious beyond belief? Sign me up.
Obviously I couldn't jump straight into the construction. No no, there was a lengthy preface my friend. I needed to set up base first. A head quarters, in which to plan - to concieve. The base was indeed set up. A few workshops, a small barracks, a servicable dining hall... it was quaint, but it did the job.
The poor choice in my geographical selection soon dawned on me. Most of the immediate area was ocean. So, aside from the tiny farms we managed to set up, and the few piles of fish that were available, there wasn't much food around. Things were looking a little grim already, and construction of my mighty ocean liner had yet to begin, let alone the planning thereof.
The ground was barely fertile, and there were not many herbs to be gathered to tide us over until the trade caravan approached. I was left with no recourse, my choice was clear. Hunting would be necessary. I don't like sending my dwarfs hunting. It's... dangerous work. Too risky. No dwarf should have to face death, let alone while scavenging for food rather than protecting their homes and loved ones. Regardless, there was no other path for us to take. It was hunt, or starve.
I wasn't quite sure what my next step was to be. How do you chose which dwarf are to risk death, and which aren't? How do you assign importance values? After some turmoil, I decided to entrust the task to the settlement's mayor, Nomal. The wellbeing of the dwarfs was her responsibility, and it was her duty to keep them fed. No matter the cost.
We didn't even have any armour. No protection at all. Nor did we have any weapons. Nomal went to the stockpile and picked up the only thing that came close; a goddamn mining pick. She was prepared to hunt and kill feral beasts with nothing but the clothes on her back and a mining pick, just so the other dwarves didn't go hungry.
Ingris stopped her at the door. Her husband. He went into the stockpile, silently retrieved the only other pick, and came back to her. They embarked into the wilderness, fully prepared for whatever awaited them. Together.
They turned out to be quite adept at it. Nomal was quieter and more careful, more patient, but Ingris was quicker and stronger. They worked together quite well indeed. Foxes, mostly. A few deer. An aligator every once in a while. Each of them always looked the other in the eyes with that same, worried face before they left. The face that said "this might be it." They kept at it though. They had too.
The caravan made it's way to our little corner of the world eventually. The other dwarves had been crafting away, and we had more than enough to trade for the seeds and meat we so desperately needed. Nomal and Ingris were away from the camp when the caravan came, and the dwarves weren't sure when it would be around again, let alone how long it would linger now. Datan had to do the trading instead of Nomal. It was peculiar that the fortress' trader wasn't available, but the caravan made no objection. Datan seemed rather skilled at it.
Ingris and Nomal had no idea the caravan had arrived. They had been gone for quite some time. Last they heard, the food stockpiles were completely empty, and if they didn't return with something, anything, well... it wasn't an appealing thought to say the least.
Unfortunately, the land was barren. They had over hunted in their quest for survival. No beasts were to be found. Ingris knew what had to be done. His heart was heavy with the thought, but he was resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. Taking Nomal by the hand, Ingris led her to the edge of the mountains, directly over looking the vast ocean. It was here that the small volcano lay.
It was dangerous. It had always been dangerous, but not like this. Then again, they had no choice. To their understanding, it was this, or starve. Ingris insisted that he take point, and Nomal wait by the side until he managed to draw out a single creature for them to attack. It was raining heavily. Nomal would never forget the rain, not after today. Ingris climbed down into the depths of the volcano, and spotted a lone magmaman. Neither of them had ever seen one before, but everybody had heard the tales.
Ingris whistled at it, then jolted up toward the surface as he saw the beast give chase. It was flying after him as though it was made of some kind of magical force that ignored anything which might hamper it's progress. He barely made it out again before it was on him, the searing claws rending and burning his flesh within seconds. Nomal struck the creature again and again with her pick, but it took the furious beating as if she was a child smacking her fists on her father's back. She kept swinging until she was sure the pick would break, and the horrible thing eventually collapsed on the ground. Nomal wasn't certain how long she had been attacking it for, but evidently it had been long enough that Ingris had been reduced to a pile of ash. All that was left of the man she loved was a single sock.
She wept.
She wept and wept and wept and wept for hours in the pouring rain, crouched over a dirty old ruined sock.
Eventually, she managed to compose herself. The magmaman's corpse was still there. The fortress still needed food. She pocketed the sock, and then hefted the beast's remains onto her back. It was hot still, but the rain had cooled it enough that she wasn't being seriously burned. Ingris carried the thing to the fortress in the torrential rains. It took quite some time, but on her return she saw the caravan leaving in the distance. She dropped the magmaman on the ground, and saw the stockpile heaving with fresh foods, and enough seeds to keep the farms autonomous for years to come.
Nomal had no words. She went to her office, and sat at her desk, staring at the wall. Eventually she remembered the sock. She pulled it out, and put it on the table. It was just a muddy, ruined piece of cloth now. It had been perhaps a half day now since her tangle with the beast. Since she last saw Ingris' beatiful eyes staring at her. Since she'd felt his warm, safe embrace. She collapsed on the desk, crying and shrieking for the longest time.
Suddenly Nomal went silent. This was not right. Ingris wouldn't want her to behave like this. She got up, took the sock, and put it away in her chest. It took all the willpower she had, but she put on a brave face, and left her office. It was time to check on her people.
The dining room went silent as soon as she entered. It occured to her that she had not changed her clothes, or even washed herself since the incident. Her clothes were burned, tattered and soaking wet. Her face was covered in ash, blood and tears. Nomal didn't care one bit. She asked what the situation was. Datan snorted, and said that the settlement was doing quite fine under his guidance; food was abundant, and they had even made a slight profit in the trade. It seemed that he was quite good at it.
That was too much. Nomal couldn't take it. To know that after all that, the fortress didn't even need her... no. That was not something she could brave. Not without Ingris. She fled the dining room, and ran straight to the stockpile. Without hesitation, she opened up an entire barrel of wine and just started drinking. It tasted disgusting with the knowledge that it was Datan who had aquired it, but she needed the release.
Days went past, and soon weeks. All Nomal did now was sit in her office, drink wine, and enter fits of depression where she wept for what seemed an eternity. The fortress was doing well. She was in no state to go about her mayoral duties, but Datan had stepped up to the position. The people adored him. Months flew by, and eventually Datan was elected mayor, to replace Nomal. She had been demoted to his old position, the settlement's trader. He was too busy now to take care of it. Of course, Datan needed a new office now. He took hers, without even letting her remove her few belongings. The only other office was a much smaller, dank little room one level below the mayor's office. Nomal didn't care. It was cramped, dark, cold and it reeked of death, but she was long past caring about something as trivial as that.
More and more waves of immigrants swept through, until there were hundreds of dwarfs where once there had been but seven. A Baron had even arrived to live in the mighty fortress, which inevitably gave Datan an inflated sense of self importance. It was his fortress, after all, and it was good enough for a Duke.
Nomal had been trying to take her mind away from the dark places it so easily fell to now. She tried her hand and stonecrafting, carpentry, architecture... but none of it held her attention for very long. One of the taskmasters took pity on her, and gave her something to do to keep her from the wine.
Datan's office needed new furniture, and she had been told to move the old pieces out to be replaced with some garish, flaunty items. As soon as she opened the door, all the memories came flooding back. Looking around at her old room, and her old things made what happened to Ingris all those years ago seem but yesterday. She was shaking violently, but she was keeping it together. Barely.
Then her heart stopped. Her eyes fell on the chest lying at the other end of the room. She knew what was in there. Datan had huge personal quarters, he would never even think of storing something in his office. No, Nomal knew that it was still in there. It seemed to be a huge distance away, and each step sapped her strength, her bravery, until she was right at the chest
She stood there staring at it for the longest time. After an eternity of indecision, she tried to open it. It was a sturdy chest, and she was shaking so much it took some effort indeed. The lid fell back, and the filthy, ruined old sock was staring right back at her.
Nomal stopped shaking immediately. Calmly and quietly, she closed the chest and moved over to the door. She shut it and locked it. Then she walked toward the center of the room, readied her pick that she still carried at all times, and took her own life. Nomal lay there, her blood running freely, thinking about that one sock, and the wonderful man it had belonged to.
My dwarven ocean liner seemed a little inconsequential after that.
Obviously I couldn't jump straight into the construction. No no, there was a lengthy preface my friend. I needed to set up base first. A head quarters, in which to plan - to concieve. The base was indeed set up. A few workshops, a small barracks, a servicable dining hall... it was quaint, but it did the job.
The poor choice in my geographical selection soon dawned on me. Most of the immediate area was ocean. So, aside from the tiny farms we managed to set up, and the few piles of fish that were available, there wasn't much food around. Things were looking a little grim already, and construction of my mighty ocean liner had yet to begin, let alone the planning thereof.
The ground was barely fertile, and there were not many herbs to be gathered to tide us over until the trade caravan approached. I was left with no recourse, my choice was clear. Hunting would be necessary. I don't like sending my dwarfs hunting. It's... dangerous work. Too risky. No dwarf should have to face death, let alone while scavenging for food rather than protecting their homes and loved ones. Regardless, there was no other path for us to take. It was hunt, or starve.
I wasn't quite sure what my next step was to be. How do you chose which dwarf are to risk death, and which aren't? How do you assign importance values? After some turmoil, I decided to entrust the task to the settlement's mayor, Nomal. The wellbeing of the dwarfs was her responsibility, and it was her duty to keep them fed. No matter the cost.
We didn't even have any armour. No protection at all. Nor did we have any weapons. Nomal went to the stockpile and picked up the only thing that came close; a goddamn mining pick. She was prepared to hunt and kill feral beasts with nothing but the clothes on her back and a mining pick, just so the other dwarves didn't go hungry.
Ingris stopped her at the door. Her husband. He went into the stockpile, silently retrieved the only other pick, and came back to her. They embarked into the wilderness, fully prepared for whatever awaited them. Together.
They turned out to be quite adept at it. Nomal was quieter and more careful, more patient, but Ingris was quicker and stronger. They worked together quite well indeed. Foxes, mostly. A few deer. An aligator every once in a while. Each of them always looked the other in the eyes with that same, worried face before they left. The face that said "this might be it." They kept at it though. They had too.
The caravan made it's way to our little corner of the world eventually. The other dwarves had been crafting away, and we had more than enough to trade for the seeds and meat we so desperately needed. Nomal and Ingris were away from the camp when the caravan came, and the dwarves weren't sure when it would be around again, let alone how long it would linger now. Datan had to do the trading instead of Nomal. It was peculiar that the fortress' trader wasn't available, but the caravan made no objection. Datan seemed rather skilled at it.
Ingris and Nomal had no idea the caravan had arrived. They had been gone for quite some time. Last they heard, the food stockpiles were completely empty, and if they didn't return with something, anything, well... it wasn't an appealing thought to say the least.
Unfortunately, the land was barren. They had over hunted in their quest for survival. No beasts were to be found. Ingris knew what had to be done. His heart was heavy with the thought, but he was resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. Taking Nomal by the hand, Ingris led her to the edge of the mountains, directly over looking the vast ocean. It was here that the small volcano lay.
It was dangerous. It had always been dangerous, but not like this. Then again, they had no choice. To their understanding, it was this, or starve. Ingris insisted that he take point, and Nomal wait by the side until he managed to draw out a single creature for them to attack. It was raining heavily. Nomal would never forget the rain, not after today. Ingris climbed down into the depths of the volcano, and spotted a lone magmaman. Neither of them had ever seen one before, but everybody had heard the tales.
Ingris whistled at it, then jolted up toward the surface as he saw the beast give chase. It was flying after him as though it was made of some kind of magical force that ignored anything which might hamper it's progress. He barely made it out again before it was on him, the searing claws rending and burning his flesh within seconds. Nomal struck the creature again and again with her pick, but it took the furious beating as if she was a child smacking her fists on her father's back. She kept swinging until she was sure the pick would break, and the horrible thing eventually collapsed on the ground. Nomal wasn't certain how long she had been attacking it for, but evidently it had been long enough that Ingris had been reduced to a pile of ash. All that was left of the man she loved was a single sock.
She wept.
She wept and wept and wept and wept for hours in the pouring rain, crouched over a dirty old ruined sock.
Eventually, she managed to compose herself. The magmaman's corpse was still there. The fortress still needed food. She pocketed the sock, and then hefted the beast's remains onto her back. It was hot still, but the rain had cooled it enough that she wasn't being seriously burned. Ingris carried the thing to the fortress in the torrential rains. It took quite some time, but on her return she saw the caravan leaving in the distance. She dropped the magmaman on the ground, and saw the stockpile heaving with fresh foods, and enough seeds to keep the farms autonomous for years to come.
Nomal had no words. She went to her office, and sat at her desk, staring at the wall. Eventually she remembered the sock. She pulled it out, and put it on the table. It was just a muddy, ruined piece of cloth now. It had been perhaps a half day now since her tangle with the beast. Since she last saw Ingris' beatiful eyes staring at her. Since she'd felt his warm, safe embrace. She collapsed on the desk, crying and shrieking for the longest time.
Suddenly Nomal went silent. This was not right. Ingris wouldn't want her to behave like this. She got up, took the sock, and put it away in her chest. It took all the willpower she had, but she put on a brave face, and left her office. It was time to check on her people.
The dining room went silent as soon as she entered. It occured to her that she had not changed her clothes, or even washed herself since the incident. Her clothes were burned, tattered and soaking wet. Her face was covered in ash, blood and tears. Nomal didn't care one bit. She asked what the situation was. Datan snorted, and said that the settlement was doing quite fine under his guidance; food was abundant, and they had even made a slight profit in the trade. It seemed that he was quite good at it.
That was too much. Nomal couldn't take it. To know that after all that, the fortress didn't even need her... no. That was not something she could brave. Not without Ingris. She fled the dining room, and ran straight to the stockpile. Without hesitation, she opened up an entire barrel of wine and just started drinking. It tasted disgusting with the knowledge that it was Datan who had aquired it, but she needed the release.
Days went past, and soon weeks. All Nomal did now was sit in her office, drink wine, and enter fits of depression where she wept for what seemed an eternity. The fortress was doing well. She was in no state to go about her mayoral duties, but Datan had stepped up to the position. The people adored him. Months flew by, and eventually Datan was elected mayor, to replace Nomal. She had been demoted to his old position, the settlement's trader. He was too busy now to take care of it. Of course, Datan needed a new office now. He took hers, without even letting her remove her few belongings. The only other office was a much smaller, dank little room one level below the mayor's office. Nomal didn't care. It was cramped, dark, cold and it reeked of death, but she was long past caring about something as trivial as that.
More and more waves of immigrants swept through, until there were hundreds of dwarfs where once there had been but seven. A Baron had even arrived to live in the mighty fortress, which inevitably gave Datan an inflated sense of self importance. It was his fortress, after all, and it was good enough for a Duke.
Nomal had been trying to take her mind away from the dark places it so easily fell to now. She tried her hand and stonecrafting, carpentry, architecture... but none of it held her attention for very long. One of the taskmasters took pity on her, and gave her something to do to keep her from the wine.
Datan's office needed new furniture, and she had been told to move the old pieces out to be replaced with some garish, flaunty items. As soon as she opened the door, all the memories came flooding back. Looking around at her old room, and her old things made what happened to Ingris all those years ago seem but yesterday. She was shaking violently, but she was keeping it together. Barely.
Then her heart stopped. Her eyes fell on the chest lying at the other end of the room. She knew what was in there. Datan had huge personal quarters, he would never even think of storing something in his office. No, Nomal knew that it was still in there. It seemed to be a huge distance away, and each step sapped her strength, her bravery, until she was right at the chest
She stood there staring at it for the longest time. After an eternity of indecision, she tried to open it. It was a sturdy chest, and she was shaking so much it took some effort indeed. The lid fell back, and the filthy, ruined old sock was staring right back at her.
Nomal stopped shaking immediately. Calmly and quietly, she closed the chest and moved over to the door. She shut it and locked it. Then she walked toward the center of the room, readied her pick that she still carried at all times, and took her own life. Nomal lay there, her blood running freely, thinking about that one sock, and the wonderful man it had belonged to.
My dwarven ocean liner seemed a little inconsequential after that.
Last edited by Spoony on Sun Jun 27, 2010 10:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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She lay on the barren ground on her side; the stench of a million rotting corpses filling her nostrils, unable to move without unimaginable pain coursing through her body.
Debris and shrapnel filled what once was her home town, dust and radiation hovering in the air heavily. The humidity was always omnipresent in her town, making the whole situation even worse as everything felt even heavier.
Her body was sore and felt like it was on fire; she could see burns on her body, pus oozing out of injuries caused by an unnecessary act by a war-torn world.
She heard footsteps approaching her. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to figure out who would still be alive after the attack.
The footsteps stopped, and she could feel a looming shadow over her. Humming slightly, she lifted her eyes up slightly.
His tanned face looked no different from the last time she saw him, except his eyes looked blanker and with less emotion than what they usually carried.
“This isn’t like you to give up.” He said, a bit of an amused tone in his voice.
“I suppose it’s not like me to be able to see the dead as well.” She retorted back, a cruel sparkle of glee in her eye.
“That…is a good point.” He kneeled down to her level so she wouldn’t have to strain to look up to his level, “Then again you’ll probably be joining me soon.” A small smile made its way to his face.
“Mhm. I suppose you should be smiling at being able to get me back. I am not too fond of meeting end’s fate, however.”
“It’s not so bad.” He muttered, “It definitely takes some getting used to, but once you adapt, it’s not so bad.” He grinned cheekily.
She closed her eyes, humming softly. Her stomach rumbled angrily, and she forced herself up onto her hands and knees to vomit. Nigel’s eyebrows rose as he watched her empty stomach acid onto the ground.
“I wish I could hold back your hair.”
She smiled weakly at him before throwing up once more, stray wisps of light brown hair getting in her blank, gray eyes as she did.
She collapsed on the opposite side of her bile, not wanting any of it to get in her burn wounds, and lay on her back.
“Our anniversary would have been in two weeks, too.” He mused, “Of course, then there was the car crash and if that didn’t happen to kill me I figure this probably would have.” He smiled nervously, attempting to lighten the mood.
She stared at the sun, a dim light in the distance as the dust and clouds covered it. Almost a beacon of hope in the monstrosity that surrounded them.
“I’m going to die soon, aren’t I?”
Nigel did not answer.
“I have so many things I wanted to do, Nige. I wanted to be a mother. I was so close to my Master’s in Physics. We could’ve had a home with a white goddamn picket fence and a dog named Spot and we could’ve had it all but then…” she closed her eyes, “then you got hit. And war was on the horizon anyway. I…I wasn’t meant to have a life like that and I guess I figured it out the hard way.” A stray tear made its way down her pale face.
“Say, Nige-.”
She looked over to her right and saw nobody.
A hallucination…
Her eyes widened as the realization hit her that she was dying. And she was dying alone.
I don’t want to die.
She turned back to face the sun, but what she saw was her beacon blocked by clouds. Her light put out.
She gave a dry laugh and closed her eyes, and joined her town, as well as half or more of the world, in death.
Debris and shrapnel filled what once was her home town, dust and radiation hovering in the air heavily. The humidity was always omnipresent in her town, making the whole situation even worse as everything felt even heavier.
Her body was sore and felt like it was on fire; she could see burns on her body, pus oozing out of injuries caused by an unnecessary act by a war-torn world.
She heard footsteps approaching her. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to figure out who would still be alive after the attack.
The footsteps stopped, and she could feel a looming shadow over her. Humming slightly, she lifted her eyes up slightly.
His tanned face looked no different from the last time she saw him, except his eyes looked blanker and with less emotion than what they usually carried.
“This isn’t like you to give up.” He said, a bit of an amused tone in his voice.
“I suppose it’s not like me to be able to see the dead as well.” She retorted back, a cruel sparkle of glee in her eye.
“That…is a good point.” He kneeled down to her level so she wouldn’t have to strain to look up to his level, “Then again you’ll probably be joining me soon.” A small smile made its way to his face.
“Mhm. I suppose you should be smiling at being able to get me back. I am not too fond of meeting end’s fate, however.”
“It’s not so bad.” He muttered, “It definitely takes some getting used to, but once you adapt, it’s not so bad.” He grinned cheekily.
She closed her eyes, humming softly. Her stomach rumbled angrily, and she forced herself up onto her hands and knees to vomit. Nigel’s eyebrows rose as he watched her empty stomach acid onto the ground.
“I wish I could hold back your hair.”
She smiled weakly at him before throwing up once more, stray wisps of light brown hair getting in her blank, gray eyes as she did.
She collapsed on the opposite side of her bile, not wanting any of it to get in her burn wounds, and lay on her back.
“Our anniversary would have been in two weeks, too.” He mused, “Of course, then there was the car crash and if that didn’t happen to kill me I figure this probably would have.” He smiled nervously, attempting to lighten the mood.
She stared at the sun, a dim light in the distance as the dust and clouds covered it. Almost a beacon of hope in the monstrosity that surrounded them.
“I’m going to die soon, aren’t I?”
Nigel did not answer.
“I have so many things I wanted to do, Nige. I wanted to be a mother. I was so close to my Master’s in Physics. We could’ve had a home with a white goddamn picket fence and a dog named Spot and we could’ve had it all but then…” she closed her eyes, “then you got hit. And war was on the horizon anyway. I…I wasn’t meant to have a life like that and I guess I figured it out the hard way.” A stray tear made its way down her pale face.
“Say, Nige-.”
She looked over to her right and saw nobody.
A hallucination…
Her eyes widened as the realization hit her that she was dying. And she was dying alone.
I don’t want to die.
She turned back to face the sun, but what she saw was her beacon blocked by clouds. Her light put out.
She gave a dry laugh and closed her eyes, and joined her town, as well as half or more of the world, in death.
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Doormaster
- Chinmaster
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- Location: Chins
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"The humidity was always omnipresent in her town, making the whole situation even worse as everything felt even heavier."
I'm not sure if the humidity being "always omnipresent" is technically redundant, but it sort of seems like it might be. I'm also not sure why everything would feel heavier due to humidity.
"injuries caused by an unnecessary act by a war-torn world. "
Even if it's true, calling it an "unnecessary act" seems sort of strange considering the situation. Maybe try stronger language?
"Humming slightly, she lifted her eyes up slightly."
Try changing one of the Slightly's, also why is she humming? Or is it the guy that's humming?
"She retorted back"
Retorted back is redundant
"I am not too fond of meeting end’s fate"
I'm not entirely sure what you mean by end's fate.
I like the way you describe the actions as well as the premise of the story.
I'm not sure if the humidity being "always omnipresent" is technically redundant, but it sort of seems like it might be. I'm also not sure why everything would feel heavier due to humidity.
"injuries caused by an unnecessary act by a war-torn world. "
Even if it's true, calling it an "unnecessary act" seems sort of strange considering the situation. Maybe try stronger language?
"Humming slightly, she lifted her eyes up slightly."
Try changing one of the Slightly's, also why is she humming? Or is it the guy that's humming?
"She retorted back"
Retorted back is redundant
"I am not too fond of meeting end’s fate"
I'm not entirely sure what you mean by end's fate.
I like the way you describe the actions as well as the premise of the story.
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Mr. Mander
- how much is a score
- Posts: 9905
- Joined: Wed Aug 12, 2009 4:12 pm
- Location: Not France
So I tried to write an interesting story in a strange world.
HOW DID I DO?
- - -
A man and a blob of liquid metal moved down the dirty road. They were strange to this area. This area was strange to them. There were few places in the world one could go without seeing something strange. The world was a chaotic place. Scientists coexisted with Savages, Mages lived with Robots. It was a world where abnormality was expected. The man and his liquid companion had seen much of it, and still every step managed to surprise.
He took a step forward.
“Watch it!”
The cobblestones he had just stepped on stood up and glared at him. He was looking at a man made out of rocks, which had been lying in the road.
“Well it’s your fault for lying in the streets,” The man said nonchalantly.
“This isn’t the street, you idiot.”
The rocky man stomped away, and laid his stony body down elsewhere.
“It certainly looks like a street,” The man mumbled to himself.
His silver companion beeped. The computer core at the center of the blob rose out of it. The red eye on the core looked up at the man.
“And what do you want?”
The core beeped again.
“Do I need to remind you that you can talk?”
“I was just trying to be robotic,” The core said humbly.
“You aren’t a robot, you’re a blob of liquid with a brain,” The man poked the silver liquid the core was suspended in.
“Well I have a robot’s brain,” The blob said. It pulled away from the man’s finger. “We’ve met a lot of robots, and I think there’s a status quo to be maintained.”
“I just stepped on a talking rock. If there’s a status quo, I have yet to see it.”
The man straightened his hat and looked at the “road” ahead of him. He couldn’t see anything on the horizon. He could ask the rock thing for directions, but he seemed irritable. You never irritated someone with harder fists than you; that was something he knew very well.
“Anyway, Weston, was there something you needed?”
“Well, yes, actually. I’m running a bit low on Bonesilver now, and-“
“I get it, I get it.”
The man held out his hand. Metallic liquid crept its way out of his skeleton and through his pores. It coated his arm before dripping downwards into Weston’s blob of a body. Weston absorbed it happily.
“Ah, yes, much better. I feel optimal now.”
“Stop using optimal as an adjective,” The man grunted. He absorbed the remaining Bonesilver on his arm back into his skeleton. “It’s too robotic.”
Weston’s core vanished into the blob of his body. He continued conversation from inside the blob.
“I don’t know how you can comment on the strangeness of the world when you leak metal from your bones, Sir.”
“I am not letting you talk to any more robots, Weston. Sir was my father’s name.”
“Well you’re a bit cagey about your own name, so I tend to avoid using it.”
The man kicked Weston. His foot slid into the liquid metal and right back out. He ignored the little blob and moved down what he was assuming was the road.
The horizon still looked much too flat. Normally there were towns on these plains, something to break the monotony of the flat landscape. Here there was nothing. The man began to get suspicious.
“Why would no one build a town here? Is there something wrong with this plain?”
Something dropped onto his head. He stopped dead in his tracks. When something fell on your head, it was a good idea not to touch it.
Whatever was on his head moved. He could feel it shifting through the stiff fabric of his hat. It felt thin and fluid. Maybe it was a snake, or a giant worm. Whatever it was, it moved again.
It dropped over the brim of his hat. It was some kind of elastic rope. He grabbed it and tugged on it. It felt like rubber.
“Now why would a rubber rope be hanging from the sky?”
A face appeared from the sky. The man took a startled step back. Some metal came out of his bones in a defensive reaction. He held his metal coated arms above his face.
“Are you stupid?”
The face that had appeared was hanging from the rubber rope. It was a woman’s face, round and dark skinned. She was hanging upside down, hanging onto the rope with her feet.
“No I am not stupid, I am actually very smart.”
The man soaked the metal back into his bones. He crossed his arms in defiance of the woman who had appeared from the sky.
“I can vouch for that,” Weston said from his blob. “He built me, in fact, and I work fabulously, despite the occasional loss of metal from my blob.”
The woman gave them an inverted frown. She pointed at the dirt path they were standing on.
“If you’re so smart, then do you know what made that path?”
The man looked down at the dirt beneath his feet. His blue eyes examined it for any clues.
“No.”
“Well neither do we,” The woman grunted. “But we know it eats things, and so we stay away from it.”
The man stepped to the left of the path nervously. He looked over his shoulder for the thing that ate things. The woman grabbed him by the shoulders.
“I’ll take you up here where it’s safe.”
“Where is up here?”
The elastic rope contracted violently. If the man hadn’t had metal for bones his arms would have been ripped off. The woman stared blankly ahead as the sky roared past them. Weston was clinging desperately to the man’s leg.
Eventually the roaring stopped, and so did the rope. The man leaned against whatever he put his hand on first and caught his breath. Weston melted into a puddle, as he often did when under stress.
The man gave one last heavy breath and looked up at where he was. He had his hand on a very large insect. He pulled his palm away very quickly. It was covered in metal again.
The insect clicked its jaws calmly. It didn’t appear to have any legs. Instead it had strange tendrils dangling from its carapace. Familiar tendrils.
“I just rode a bug tentacle into the sky,” The man gasped. He looked around for the woman, hoping to gain some context on the situation. She was gone. Dozens of men and women who looked like her, though, had gathered. They were looking curiously at the metal on his hand, which he quickly retracted.
The man looked down at what he was standing on. It was a rock. He must have missed this down on the plains. He was not perturbed. He’d been on flying rocks before.
The people of the rock tilted their heads at him and Weston. He tilted his head right back. His hat fell off. A gentle breeze came by and blew the hat away, past the bug and over the edge of the rock.
“Oh, and I liked that hat.”
A rock-dweller ran past in a blur. He grabbed one of the bug’s tentacles and jumped right off the edge of the rock. He grabbed the hat out of the air, and was snapped right back to the rock by the tentacle. The rock-dweller handed the man his hat with a polite nod.
“Thank you.”
The rock dweller who had saved his hat rejoined his people. The crowd seemed to have lost interest in him anyway.
“I think we might stay a while, Weston.”
HOW DID I DO?
- - -
A man and a blob of liquid metal moved down the dirty road. They were strange to this area. This area was strange to them. There were few places in the world one could go without seeing something strange. The world was a chaotic place. Scientists coexisted with Savages, Mages lived with Robots. It was a world where abnormality was expected. The man and his liquid companion had seen much of it, and still every step managed to surprise.
He took a step forward.
“Watch it!”
The cobblestones he had just stepped on stood up and glared at him. He was looking at a man made out of rocks, which had been lying in the road.
“Well it’s your fault for lying in the streets,” The man said nonchalantly.
“This isn’t the street, you idiot.”
The rocky man stomped away, and laid his stony body down elsewhere.
“It certainly looks like a street,” The man mumbled to himself.
His silver companion beeped. The computer core at the center of the blob rose out of it. The red eye on the core looked up at the man.
“And what do you want?”
The core beeped again.
“Do I need to remind you that you can talk?”
“I was just trying to be robotic,” The core said humbly.
“You aren’t a robot, you’re a blob of liquid with a brain,” The man poked the silver liquid the core was suspended in.
“Well I have a robot’s brain,” The blob said. It pulled away from the man’s finger. “We’ve met a lot of robots, and I think there’s a status quo to be maintained.”
“I just stepped on a talking rock. If there’s a status quo, I have yet to see it.”
The man straightened his hat and looked at the “road” ahead of him. He couldn’t see anything on the horizon. He could ask the rock thing for directions, but he seemed irritable. You never irritated someone with harder fists than you; that was something he knew very well.
“Anyway, Weston, was there something you needed?”
“Well, yes, actually. I’m running a bit low on Bonesilver now, and-“
“I get it, I get it.”
The man held out his hand. Metallic liquid crept its way out of his skeleton and through his pores. It coated his arm before dripping downwards into Weston’s blob of a body. Weston absorbed it happily.
“Ah, yes, much better. I feel optimal now.”
“Stop using optimal as an adjective,” The man grunted. He absorbed the remaining Bonesilver on his arm back into his skeleton. “It’s too robotic.”
Weston’s core vanished into the blob of his body. He continued conversation from inside the blob.
“I don’t know how you can comment on the strangeness of the world when you leak metal from your bones, Sir.”
“I am not letting you talk to any more robots, Weston. Sir was my father’s name.”
“Well you’re a bit cagey about your own name, so I tend to avoid using it.”
The man kicked Weston. His foot slid into the liquid metal and right back out. He ignored the little blob and moved down what he was assuming was the road.
The horizon still looked much too flat. Normally there were towns on these plains, something to break the monotony of the flat landscape. Here there was nothing. The man began to get suspicious.
“Why would no one build a town here? Is there something wrong with this plain?”
Something dropped onto his head. He stopped dead in his tracks. When something fell on your head, it was a good idea not to touch it.
Whatever was on his head moved. He could feel it shifting through the stiff fabric of his hat. It felt thin and fluid. Maybe it was a snake, or a giant worm. Whatever it was, it moved again.
It dropped over the brim of his hat. It was some kind of elastic rope. He grabbed it and tugged on it. It felt like rubber.
“Now why would a rubber rope be hanging from the sky?”
A face appeared from the sky. The man took a startled step back. Some metal came out of his bones in a defensive reaction. He held his metal coated arms above his face.
“Are you stupid?”
The face that had appeared was hanging from the rubber rope. It was a woman’s face, round and dark skinned. She was hanging upside down, hanging onto the rope with her feet.
“No I am not stupid, I am actually very smart.”
The man soaked the metal back into his bones. He crossed his arms in defiance of the woman who had appeared from the sky.
“I can vouch for that,” Weston said from his blob. “He built me, in fact, and I work fabulously, despite the occasional loss of metal from my blob.”
The woman gave them an inverted frown. She pointed at the dirt path they were standing on.
“If you’re so smart, then do you know what made that path?”
The man looked down at the dirt beneath his feet. His blue eyes examined it for any clues.
“No.”
“Well neither do we,” The woman grunted. “But we know it eats things, and so we stay away from it.”
The man stepped to the left of the path nervously. He looked over his shoulder for the thing that ate things. The woman grabbed him by the shoulders.
“I’ll take you up here where it’s safe.”
“Where is up here?”
The elastic rope contracted violently. If the man hadn’t had metal for bones his arms would have been ripped off. The woman stared blankly ahead as the sky roared past them. Weston was clinging desperately to the man’s leg.
Eventually the roaring stopped, and so did the rope. The man leaned against whatever he put his hand on first and caught his breath. Weston melted into a puddle, as he often did when under stress.
The man gave one last heavy breath and looked up at where he was. He had his hand on a very large insect. He pulled his palm away very quickly. It was covered in metal again.
The insect clicked its jaws calmly. It didn’t appear to have any legs. Instead it had strange tendrils dangling from its carapace. Familiar tendrils.
“I just rode a bug tentacle into the sky,” The man gasped. He looked around for the woman, hoping to gain some context on the situation. She was gone. Dozens of men and women who looked like her, though, had gathered. They were looking curiously at the metal on his hand, which he quickly retracted.
The man looked down at what he was standing on. It was a rock. He must have missed this down on the plains. He was not perturbed. He’d been on flying rocks before.
The people of the rock tilted their heads at him and Weston. He tilted his head right back. His hat fell off. A gentle breeze came by and blew the hat away, past the bug and over the edge of the rock.
“Oh, and I liked that hat.”
A rock-dweller ran past in a blur. He grabbed one of the bug’s tentacles and jumped right off the edge of the rock. He grabbed the hat out of the air, and was snapped right back to the rock by the tentacle. The rock-dweller handed the man his hat with a polite nod.
“Thank you.”
The rock dweller who had saved his hat rejoined his people. The crowd seemed to have lost interest in him anyway.
“I think we might stay a while, Weston.”
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Doormaster
- Chinmaster
- Posts: 4350
- Joined: Tue Aug 04, 2009 3:54 pm
- Location: Chins
- Contact:
It seems interesting. I'd read more of it. I just have a few things I'd like to point out.
The part about Weston acting "more like a robot." If this world is as weird and fantastic as you make it out to be in the beginning, would robots really have a stereotypical way of behaving?
“Stop using optimal as an adjective,”
What else would you use it as?
The word "metal" gets repeated a lot. Not saying you should use it as little as possible, but throwing a few other words in there instead might not be a bad idea.
" If the man hadn’t had metal for bones his arms would have been ripped off."
Sort of awkward; maybe change it to "metal bones" or even just "if the man hadn't been made of stronger stuff" That's all just opinion though.
The part about Weston acting "more like a robot." If this world is as weird and fantastic as you make it out to be in the beginning, would robots really have a stereotypical way of behaving?
“Stop using optimal as an adjective,”
What else would you use it as?
The word "metal" gets repeated a lot. Not saying you should use it as little as possible, but throwing a few other words in there instead might not be a bad idea.
" If the man hadn’t had metal for bones his arms would have been ripped off."
Sort of awkward; maybe change it to "metal bones" or even just "if the man hadn't been made of stronger stuff" That's all just opinion though.
-
Mr. Mander
- how much is a score
- Posts: 9905
- Joined: Wed Aug 12, 2009 4:12 pm
- Location: Not France