Jeph Jacques's comics discussion forums

  • 27 Nov 2021, 12:44
  • Welcome, Guest
Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
Advanced search  
Pages: [1] 2   Go Down

Author Topic: Attention! Fiction!  (Read 8643 times)

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Attention! Fiction!
« on: 02 Mar 2008, 20:53 »

It has come to my attention that I don't offer enough to this forum. I mean, you look at some of the people and they are knitting each other little hats, and drawing fancy pictures, and making music and such. I knew in my heart that these people were setting the example and I wasn't following it well enough. And it set me to thinking, well, even if I wanted to make my humble offering to the people of the forum, how would I go about such a thing? After all, I don't know how to make things or sing things or play things. My sewing skills are rudimentary. I draw like a drunken spider after an escapade in an inkpot. So where to find some small way of paying my due? I suddenly realised that I can write somewhat okay, and hence: the Fiction Thread - I will write a short, personalised paragraph in any genre of your choosing, incorporating one or two themes of your choice, and you can take them away and read them. I can't promise you'll enjoy them! But I will try my best to research the necessary genre and keep the style consistent. I will keep writing these for the next ten hours or so, after which I will probably need to sleep a little - anyone wanting to have a pop at writing can by all means take the reins at that point.

in short, specify:
- genre
- 1 or 2 themes
and I will write a little for you.

like a present! only on your computer. and not one of those shitty e-cards either. those things suck and blow.
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

Edith

  • Cthulhu f'tagn
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 529
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #1 on: 02 Mar 2008, 20:55 »

I want a spaghetti western!
Old West, bad guys, saloons!
Logged
Ho, ho, ho!

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #2 on: 02 Mar 2008, 20:56 »

A Dollar Whistle

The pale moon shone over Cancus Ridge and lit up the little frontier town below. To the south a buzzard circled – some steer, probably ‘scaped from Jack Hannaman’s ranch. It was known amongst most of the folk in town that Hannaman was more of a scholar than a rancher, and it was evident in the man’s disgust at having to inherit his father’s land and work. Tonight Hannaman sat over lists of sums and dabbed his pencil in a crucible of water often, in order to keep the evening dust from off his additions. Outside, all was not well. The sound of piano music leaked out from the Irishman’s saloon. O’Riley, the saloon’s rotund and jocular landlord, to whom the dusky little drinkin’ house owed its name, had just thrown out three angry young men from the city, on account of their violent modern ways. The young men in question could now be found sneaking back towards the bar, armed with six-shooters, a can of gasoline for the burnin’, and a heavy cloud of liquor in their licentious minds. The slip-door of the saloon opened with a bang, and the music died amidst a high, keening note. O’Riley looked heavy frighted, sack o’ custard as he was, and would have been praying for his life; were it not that the dangerous young men’s attentions were fixed elsewhere. You see, the music had not entirely stopped, as such. From a cold corner of the darkening saloon, a single dollar whistle, such as sold to children for their birthday celebrations, was being played, and played good. The notes slid away into the night, and the three young men, brothers all, demanded to know who dared play. A tall, unshaven shadow unfolded from his corner, and stood in front of those untutored, uncivilised city brothers – the stranger’s jaw set and his mind firm. A military-style pistol sat in a holster strapped to his hip, gleaming, proud, and arrogant. The patrons of the bar dared not breath, for fear of striking a match to this tense and flammable situation.
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

KvP

  • WoW gold miner on break
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 6,720
  • COME DOWN NOW
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #3 on: 02 Mar 2008, 21:01 »

POST-APOCALYPTIC SCI-FI PLEASE

featuring mutants, and possibly some sort of cube.
Logged
I review, sometimes.
Quote from: Andy
I love this vagina store!
Quote from: Andy
SNEAKY
I sneak that shit
And liek
OMG DICK JERK

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #4 on: 02 Mar 2008, 21:04 »

The Fifth Argyle Mythologies

The upper echelons of the ancient and withered Chronos tower whispered with a dead air – after the third Electron War, fought in the outer skies, the atmosphere had withdrawn to a safe point near the earth’s surface – and Adrian found himself coughing and wheezing, even inside the safety of his biologically cleansing exoskeleton. The suit only cleaned the air, it couldn’t make more of it than there was. At the tower’s storm-blasted apex Adrian could see the fifth Argyle Cube glimmering in its protective chamber. Finally, the Society of Survivors would know where the last waters were; finally his sister would be free! This thought pushed his aching limbs forward, where his own will had long since failed. To his left, in the empty air to the east, hideously mutated carrion crows swooped from their perches, knowing a feed was not far off.

Adrian persisted, freeing the Tazon Distance Catheter from its shoulder holster. If there was to be any unwanted attention, it would have to be dealt with quickly. After all, there was not much time left. In less than an hour the last of the Argyle Cube’s power would deplete – after that, there was no hope for the last of the humans. With thoughts of extinction weighing heavy on his mind, it was hardly surprising that the carrion crow managed to sneak just outside of his range of vision. It was only when he felt the first of many tentacles squeeze the cables on the spine of his exoskeleton did he think to turn around, his first shots burning a hole through the wing-spines of the terrifying avian monstrosity.
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

thegreatbuddha

  • Pneumatic ratchet pants
  • ***
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 348
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #5 on: 02 Mar 2008, 21:16 »

Film noir, pirates, ice cream
Logged
I want to be able to tell my kids about the days when the internet was an uncontrolled haven for outlaws such as myself.
Kind of like the old west but with keyboards and nobody is having sex.

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #6 on: 02 Mar 2008, 21:29 »

The Devil and the Deep

The name’s Crevice, Larson Crevice. You want to know what I do? I find people. That’s my job. Of course, finding people involves a lot of waiting. That’s how I found myself sitting in my freezing cold Chevy at the harbour, eating melted ice-cream from the tub. The wind from the docks blew heavy and salty through the smoke of the city, and I shivered, and drew my coat around me against the cold. Hell of a night. You might be asking why I do this – this job that involves a lotta sitting around in Chevies eating ice cream outta tubs. Well I’ll tell you – it’s knowing that the creep I find who’s behind the whole deal is somewhere far away from my city, hopefully rotting in some cell. Speaking of which, someone just turned the corner. He’s wearing an expensive suit like he thinks he’s money, but the fake diamond tie-pin he’s sportin’ ain’t come from Tiffany’s. This guy, he’s been shipping the little computer music players from Taiwan – like those kids in California ain’t got enough problems, Christ…

The perp turns his head. The guy's handsome, got a sharp jawline you could cut cocaine with, but he’s got dirty eyes. You know that this slice of shit is just screamin’ to rat out his buddy boys left, right and centre. All he needs is the right pressure. That’s when I exit the beat-up Chevy and pull the hammer back on my .45.

There’s more than one kind of pressure, that’s for damn sure.
« Last Edit: 02 Mar 2008, 22:04 by ZJGent »
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

StMonkey

  • Bizarre cantaloupe phobia
  • **
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 203
  • *Comment of negligible importance*
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #7 on: 02 Mar 2008, 21:30 »

Satire; Comics, or more specifically, webcomics
Logged
Carpe Gluteum
Quote
The bottom line is, if anyone is going to start playing pranks by stuffing large quantities of food in their mouths, be wary.

thegreatbuddha

  • Pneumatic ratchet pants
  • ***
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 348
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #8 on: 02 Mar 2008, 21:34 »

The Devil and the Deep

A+ Would read again
Logged
I want to be able to tell my kids about the days when the internet was an uncontrolled haven for outlaws such as myself.
Kind of like the old west but with keyboards and nobody is having sex.

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #9 on: 02 Mar 2008, 21:37 »

Satire; Comics, or more specifically, webcomics

Really? For real? I mean, I will write something if you really want something on this - but it feels like you just said it because you thought it'd be funny given the nature of the forum this is on.
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

StMonkey

  • Bizarre cantaloupe phobia
  • **
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 203
  • *Comment of negligible importance*
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #10 on: 02 Mar 2008, 21:40 »

well, i was thinking along the lines of like dinosaur comics or something. Although I occasionally do forget that this is the QC forums. But if not, change comics to fast food.
Logged
Carpe Gluteum
Quote
The bottom line is, if anyone is going to start playing pranks by stuffing large quantities of food in their mouths, be wary.

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #11 on: 02 Mar 2008, 21:56 »

Ketchup

"WE'RE HAPPY YOU'RE HAPPY EATING OUR HAPPY FUN FOOD! COME TO HAPPYBURGER! COME TO -"

"Cut! I said cut! Where the fuck is the big monster guy on the left, come on people, someone find him!"

The advertisement director, Harry Weiss, sighed into his goatee and collapsed into his folding chair as though it were the last hiding place anyone would look. Christ, all those young dreams. From his first thoughtful indie films, to this. At precisely which level of self-loathing did one qualify as a dirty fucking sell-out, he wondered to himself. The acne-ridden scriptwriter who'd thought up this gaudy monstrosity for HappyBurger sat two chairs away, grinning mindlessly. Harry reminded himself that at least on the inside he still cared what people thought of his work. The spotty, sweaty greaseball writing this piece of shit was evidently only in it for the money. Two rooms away, cowering behind a star-embellished door made of balsa wood, sat Bradley. Bradley shivered in the dark, ensconced in his own furry, purple hell, the razor blade only inches from his wrists. One more time. One more time he had to hug that clown, and he swore he'd finish himself. He'd been working the costume for nineteen years now, and it just wasn't worth it any more.
Suddenly a ditzy female coffee-runner cannonballed through the door. "Bradley, I - I - They need you in - um - um - Set Three? For um, for the advert?"
Her sentences ended in that ridiculous upwards affectation that ditzy coffee-runners can manage to produce vocally without being at all aware of its irritation to others.
Bradley groaned inwardly, and trudged toward the set. One more fucking clown hug. Why him, anyway? Why'd he have to do it? Why the purple furry thing? Why not the little green dinosaur guy from Mexico? Bradley didn't even like clowns!

---


(edit: is this in the right style? I know you said satire, but I didn't know which kind of satire you meant. I did say to suggest themes, instead of subject matter. Themes give a touch more room for interpretation.)
« Last Edit: 02 Mar 2008, 22:02 by ZJGent »
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

StMonkey

  • Bizarre cantaloupe phobia
  • **
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 203
  • *Comment of negligible importance*
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #12 on: 02 Mar 2008, 22:10 »

To put as succinctly as I can, and to copy thegreatbuddha,

Ketchup

A+ Would read again, repeatedly. As for your OP, I would say this is a pretty awesome way to give to the forum.
Logged
Carpe Gluteum
Quote
The bottom line is, if anyone is going to start playing pranks by stuffing large quantities of food in their mouths, be wary.

Melodic

  • Only pretending to work
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 2,184
  • archive chin panties
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #13 on: 02 Mar 2008, 22:45 »

Space; pi, and the inability to comprehend the infinite size of our universe.

Also this is a fucking awesome idea.
Logged
And if you played too hard it'd flop out and dangle around by the wire and that is just super ugly

Tom

  • Older than Moses
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 4,090
  • 8==D(_(_(
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #14 on: 02 Mar 2008, 23:02 »

cthulu, chick lit and menstruation
Logged

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #15 on: 02 Mar 2008, 23:10 »

A Pocket Calculator in a Distant Hand

First, please think of a sandwich. A sandwich has fairly basic elements – two sides of bread, one filling, crusts/no crusts, mouth, eat, done. Marvellous – now if you can imagine the universe as being a sandwich. Except, in this circumstance, the sandwich is infinitely large, with an infinite number of fillings, infinite slices of bread, extending beyond the depth of human perception into the corners of reality usually occupied by the dangerously insane, brilliant geniuses, and the eighteenth century English poet Clancy Forthright, who whilst dawdling one lazy afternoon in Hyde Park, took a wrong turning in his own imagination and got lost there.
More of him later.

For now, let’s keep thinking of our infinite sandwich with its endless and eternal flavour.

‘Aha,’ you are thinking, ‘I have put a variety of different fillings in a sandwich before, and with my regular normal sandwich-sized sandwich, the more fillings I add, the less agreeable the taste on my palette.’
Now comes the hard part. With our sandwich universe – and yes, this does push the boundaries of human belief just a touch (and we are talking about the same humans who, in large quantities, believe that God is a man) – we must understand that each flavour of which there are infinite varieties, each flavour will taste completely separate from every other flavour. So were you to bite into the universe, you would effectively be tasting every single flavour, at once, separately, for ever, in one moment.
The main proponent of Sandwich Theory, as you might have guessed, went mildly kooky after incorrectly dropping a decimal place, and is now incapable of eating sandwiches whatsoever. In a recent interview, he spoke of improving on basic mathematics in the field of circles using only steak and kidney Pi.

Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

Johnny C

  • Awakened
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 10,039
  • i wanna be yr slide dog
    • I AM A WHORE FOR MY OWN MUSIC
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #16 on: 02 Mar 2008, 23:12 »

The perp turns his head. The guy's handsome, got a sharp jawline you could cut cocaine with, but he’s got dirty eyes. You know that this slice of shit is just screamin’ to rat out his buddy boys left, right and centre. All he needs is the right pressure. That’s when I exit the beat-up Chevy and pull the hammer back on my .45.

There’s more than one kind of pressure, that’s for damn sure.

Remarkable. Not to mention that last one.

Please write me a piece in the style of Mexican Magic Realism, based on the theme of being unable to change our pasts but being able to affect our present and embrace our future.
Logged
[02:12] yuniorpocalypse: let's talk about girls
[02:12] Thug In Kitchen: nooo

Tom

  • Older than Moses
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 4,090
  • 8==D(_(_(
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #17 on: 02 Mar 2008, 23:13 »

A Pocket Calculator in a Distant Hand

You sir, are amazing.
Logged

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #18 on: 02 Mar 2008, 23:46 »

Shopaholic at Miskatonic

Caroline sat in the whirlpool spa at the Miskatonic Uni gym and sighed as she thought of Hugo Love and the masculine voice that haunted her dreams. He had lectured on the Necronomnicon only that morning, and his strong, imposing voice had curled round the name of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred in ways that made her want to jump on him and rustle that tousled, curly brown hair. It was her first year at the university in Arkham, and she had already fallen madly in love. If only there was some way to make him notice her. Unfortunately, her own hair was a mousy blonde concoction and she hardly had the body of Aphrodite. She was sure if only she could show him how passionately she felt about the study of the human body and its extrasensory limitations, that he could at least fall in love with her brilliant mind.
Later that evening, she hit upon the perfect idea - perhaps if she were to coax him into the laboratory where she was preparing the dissection of that strange fish-creature that the Norwegian sailors had let her keep on her gap year visit, then he would realise their common interests. She immediately took a taxi cab to the lab and examined her other 'catch'. The creature was hideous, a monstrous satire on the human form - tentacles extruded from the back of the spinal apex. The monster was indescribably horrific - it was then that she noticed the strange stone statuette ensconced in the creature's stomach cavity. Donning a pair of thick rubber surgical gloves, she carefully withdrew the article. At its peak was a creature similar to the one in front of her, its head a mass of cephalopodean tentacles, with scaled wings, and short, muscled arms. The base was covered in strange markings that appeared to align at strange angles not in line with this earth's geometry. Placing the statuette carefully on the metal tray, she saw then the blood on the ground beneath her.

"Oh emm gee, I totally forgot to change my tampon!"
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

Tom

  • Older than Moses
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 4,090
  • 8==D(_(_(
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #19 on: 02 Mar 2008, 23:54 »

Thankyou, it was much funnier than I'd hoped.
Logged

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #20 on: 03 Mar 2008, 00:34 »

A Man with Beautiful Rotting Teeth

Having only been to the dentist that morning, Steven now sat upon a single lens reflex camera of recent times with Dr Kleider. They wandered towards the winding mechanism and talked idly.
"Doctor, would I have needed the two metal fillings had I cleaned my teeth a month ago?"
"It's impossible to say, my dear boy, as you did not. Hence the two fillings. I trust they no longer hurt as much as this morning?"
"They are alright... but surely... surely I can go back and brush my teeth. Surely then I won't need fillings? If I only tell myself to be more careful."
"How were you planning to do that, Steven?"
Steven merely pointed at the escalator that was now affixed to one section of the camera. The two men, doctor and patient, shook hands before Steven walked toward the escalator and stepped aboard, waving a polite goodbye to the dentist who had now perched atop the camera's flash. "Be careful" warned the doctor "it is more difficult than you'd think."
Such was true - the dentist had barely disappeared into the mirrors surrounding the escalator when Steven noticed the motorized steps slowing down under his patent leathers. Before long the escalation had reversed entirely; the steps now descended back the way that Steven had come. Scowling and muttering at the obstinate transitionary aide, he started to climb against an ever-strengthening current. Eventually, despairingly, he realised that he could no longer run upwards faster than the escalator escalated downwards. After a few frantic minutes in stationary movement, Steven realised that he could only travel in one direction. The realisation came less hard than imagined - almost a relief - and on reaching the base of the moving stairs, he recognised a rocky plateau from his childhood in middle America. His father was there, talking to Doctor Kleider, and a boy who could have been his son, if Steven had had a son.
Kleider smiled at Steven and left the scene, as did his father. The boy, however, said only that perhaps Steven had finally got off on the right floor, and good luck. Lightning split the sky, and Steven finally awoke, a gentle sweat creeping across his scalp.
« Last Edit: 03 Mar 2008, 00:46 by ZJGent »
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

öde

  • Vulcan 3-D Chess Master
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 3,767
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #21 on: 03 Mar 2008, 00:53 »

A simple man comes to terms with the concept of private property in a war novel.

This thread has reminded me that I need to do more writing and that I need to do more stuff of value (for the forum).
Logged

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #22 on: 03 Mar 2008, 01:56 »

Sorry dan, you'll have to wait a little -
I am taking a half-hour break to eat, drink, smoke, and research war fiction!
Feel free to add more requests for when I get back.

--

The Third Watch

It was two weeks after the first pocketwatch had been stolen from Harry, and three weeks after the attack on B Company. Harry thought back to the night, and the angry sky, and seeing Glenison’s body folded and broken at the bottom of that hole torn out of the earth. He had held the broken form as the last shaky breaths had faded, and when Glenison finally died, he had carried the body back through the metal hail and the streaks of hot, dangerous silver raining from the German encampment. He had not stopped walking until he had reached Captain McAllister’s cabin. The captain had stared in shock at Harry’s bloodied, beaten face as he had lain what was left of Glenison at McAllister’s feet, then collapsed.
It was a week later that the pocketwatch had disappeared. Glenison’s pocketwatch, with the pictures of his wife and two sons cut carefully to fit in the case. Harry didn’t understand – didn’t they want the family to have something, anything, to tell them that there had been a man on that battlefield, a man who loved them dearly and died thinking of them? It was two days later that Garkin caught him thinking and laughed a short, bitter laugh. Garkin’s watery, vapid eyes cleared, if only for a second, as he told Harry,
“After we’re gone, we’re gone. Little trinkets and such isn’t going to fix things. It’s never going to be fixed.”
Garkin had hummed and muttered back into his customary silence, leaving Harry angry and afraid. Two days after that, Garkin himself had died, shot by a sniper through a sagging gap in the sandbags above a dugout. His eyes had cleared one last time, and then Garkin was gone as well. It had been a little over a week since McAllister had had the crumpled husk that used to be Private C. Garkin buried. Harry was hunched over the maps that the captain had given him to decipher – scribbling notes at certain points with a stub pencil. His thoughts were hollow, gripped by that empty feeling we are endowed with when our mind is damaged by so much at once. Stupidly, the circles that ran through his mind kept coming back to Glenison’s pocketwatch. He thought about his own pocketwatch, given to him by a dying father. His thumb ran over the cold metal of the watch-ring, skipping about the dial at the side. He was glad that his watch didn’t contain pictures… somehow, his inheritance was worth less than Glenison’s simple, cheap brass affair – and Harry didn’t want to think about why.
« Last Edit: 03 Mar 2008, 03:10 by ZJGent »
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

Calaveth

  • Larger than most fish
  • **
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 120
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #23 on: 03 Mar 2008, 02:56 »

I'd like something with ninjas, crocodiles and stock brokers. Pretty please.
Logged

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #24 on: 03 Mar 2008, 03:45 »

Blue Foxglove

Kiyohime smiled and her smile was a serpent - thin and dangerous and evil in an old-fashioned way that is hard to reproduce. As she sat counting The Priest's cocaine-rich US dollars, she heard the man himself dying horrifically in the enormous water-tank behind her. The Priest's crocodile collection was the stuff of legend, and now said crocodiles were making him history. Kiyo giggled inwardly at her own joke, and continued counting the money. It had been a hard year, earning The Priest's respect and squirming her way into his outfit, officially billed as 'company stockbroker'. The reality had been a few sweaty, uncomfortable encounters in early May, before The Priest (or Joe Anchin, as his fake U.S. passport stated) had started feeling guilty for cheating on his wife. The rest had been almost easy. Slaughtering several of the Priest's generals, blaming the few living remainders. By late september the entire army upper echelon were on Kiyo's bankroll and riding high. She fed them cash and cocaine and they loved her for it. And now there was this. Again Kiyo giggled; out loud this time - after all, there was no-one to hear her. Or...
The Stockbroker went as sharp as a knife in an instant. There had been a sound to her left, away from the crocodile tank. Kiyo's two sai jumped from her belt just as a katana swept from the shadows towards her neck. The metallic tang of blade on blade filled the air; you could taste it. Whomever hid beneath that all-black garb had evidently calculated the truth from circumstance... almost as quick as Kiyo herself.
"You can't win, you realise. Any of my generals are a telephone call away... not that I'll need to make that call."
The figure in black stayed silent, parrying and lunging with a concentrated excellence. Kiyo was impressed. The black-clad shape again parried Kiyo's short, stabbing lunges, vaulting from column to column in the close, tense room with practised ease. It was only then that Kiyo noticed the ruffling around the chestplate of her attacker's armour that appeared with every leap and bend.
"So you're female? That makes things more... interesting."
Kiyohime treated her opponent to that same dragon smile she had enjoyed alone earlier. What could it hurt? It would be the last smile this little harlot ever saw.
« Last Edit: 03 Mar 2008, 03:48 by ZJGent »
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

Jimmy the Squid

  • Vulcan 3-D Chess Master
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 3,589
  • Feminist Killjoy
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #25 on: 03 Mar 2008, 03:50 »

I would like something with time travel, dinosaurs and a buxom love interest. I suppose sci-fi would be the genre, though if you could make it into the memoir of an 18th century explorer that would be fantastic.
Logged
Once I got drunk and threw up in the vegetable drawer of an old disused fridge while dressed as a cat

öde

  • Vulcan 3-D Chess Master
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 3,767
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #26 on: 03 Mar 2008, 03:59 »

The Third Watch

Good, but a little over the top on the imagery. It also feels a little rushed, too much crammed into a few paragraphs. B+.
Logged

Calaveth

  • Larger than most fish
  • **
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 120
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #27 on: 03 Mar 2008, 04:23 »

Blue Foxglove

Ah, I want to read the next chapter! This reads perfectly as cheap kiosk literature. :)
Logged

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #28 on: 03 Mar 2008, 04:39 »

The Third Crypt of Hartley Campagnan, Adventurer, Gentleman and Rogue, as related by Jennifer Ellick, Librarian and Lady*

Thursday the fifth of January: - We explored the forests to the west of this strange new plateau. Mr Campagnan assures me that we were displaced last night by the ancient crypt not only in space, but also in time. My examination of the local flora and fauna has done nothing to disprove this... each of the creatures we have found seem to be those which turn up only on shores as shadows bevelled into the great sea rocks, extincted completely by the passing of time. Imagine my surprise when this thursday I saw what looked to be a great flying lizard in the skies above us. Unfortunately, by the time I had managed to direct Mr Campagnan's attentions upwards the lovely beast had disappeared into the enormous trees. That night we camped inside a shallow, elevated cave, taking alternate sleeping shifts. I must admit, I perhaps took more than my fair share of sleep, as when I awoke, I could see that Mr Campagnan was lain beside me, fast asleep and snoring gently. I woke him from his slumber, taking great care that he not misassess the situation. His eyes flickered open - large, blue eyes that contrasted sharply with his dark hair. The man was handsome, there was no denying it, but this was a scientific expedition, and it is not the done thing - alas, I go too far in my descriptions.

Friday the sixth of January (noon): Oh, that cad Campagnan! Today we found the humans native to this strange and dizzy plateau - and - well, I shall merely relate what happened. We were approaching a small hillock that rose from the grassy thickets to the north, when I first glimpsed her. An amazon queen, statuesque and buxom, afforded of long, curled blonde hair and wearing naught but leather underclothes! I know it is not fair to judge morals in the historically backward - but for goodness' sakes, the woman was practically naked. And Mr Campagnan was no help at all - making comments such as I shan't relate on the 'beneficial aspects of the view' and suchforth. And when this prehistoric maiden approached, far from avert his eyes, I could tell the man was positively staring at this... this... ugh! I cannot continue, for fear I shall overstep myself!

Saturday the seventh of January: It is simply unfair. Yes, she possesses a somewhat remarkable beauty - but she is unkempt! And the smell! Today we tried to converse with the newcomer, but all we have managed to coax speechwise from her is an indistinct mumble that might be her name... "Day-Sah"? I am frankly ashamed of Mr Campagnan's roguish ways. I tried to broach the subject away from that prehistoric ... scarlet woman! Hartley would have none of it. "Pish and tosh" he exclaimed. I am merely examining the local actions and mores from a close angle. Besides, even you can admit that... well..." At this point he merely motioned toward the blonde girl and tailed off. I watched her taunt a large and unknown species of butterfly between her hands, and thought it best that Hartley had tailed off.
---
We have been accosted by a dragon! A large, painted lizard of untold size came rushing from the woods and attacked the herd of herbivorous reptiles a little way down the valley, before dragging the carcase of one of the unfortunate, fat little creatures through our very camp! I admit, I held Hartley a little closer than necessary - he is so very strong and sturdy, after all. Perhaps I might have embraced him out of relief afterwards - out of relief, I pray you'll understand, at our survival. Day-Sah merely scowled in our direction and slunk back towards the hillock's thicket. What a strange land we are caught in...


*Seventh in the Hartley Campagnan series, in between Hartley Campagnan and the Columbian Caves and Hartley Campagnan: A Mission in Microscopy
« Last Edit: 03 Mar 2008, 04:47 by ZJGent »
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

McTaggart

  • William Gibson's Babydaddy
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 2,463
  • Positive feedback.
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #29 on: 03 Mar 2008, 06:36 »

This is pretty excellent. If you are still doing these I would like to comission a play. Or a part of a play. A tragedy/comedy* of a selfish rich merchant, the merchant's beautiful daughter and those trying to win the favor of either. If you don't want to write a play then that is ok.

*decided by coin toss
Logged
One day ends and another begins and we're never none the wiser.

Sox

  • Scrabble hacker
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 1,425
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #30 on: 03 Mar 2008, 06:39 »

An existential crisis with a dark sense of humour featuring the ghosts of historical famous figures.
Logged

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #31 on: 03 Mar 2008, 07:15 »

This is pretty excellent. If you are still doing these I would like to comission a play. Or a part of a play. A tragedy/comedy* of a selfish rich merchant, the merchant's beautiful daughter and those trying to win the favor of either. If you don't want to write a play then that is ok.

*decided by coin toss

The original post did sort of specify a narrative, with a genre, and theme or two. but what the heck... here's a prologue, at the very least.

Armand and Calliope

Let it be said that vocally his maid
Was slatternly and noisy until paid
Let it be known that facially his wife
Could not win beauty contests for her life
   And Armand himself was but a dull and greying vendor
   Was not a man of strength; but a man of legal tender
   The only thing men asked of him that wasn't in his purse
   Was his other pride and joy, to whom I dedicate this verse:
A blonde and buxom goddess; the trophy of all trophies
Her suitors number so many: her father can't quite cope, eh?
So different from her mother, her visage never ropey
This tale tells of the things befell Armand and Calliope.

So let me set the scene a mite
I want to tell this story right
We start in ancient italy
The stars are shining prettily
And soft!
             Calliope sits atop her father's manse
             Looks at the sky, and rubs her hands
             Her latest suitor's running late
             He was meant to arrive at half past eight.



Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

ZJGent

  • Beyond Thunderdome
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 572
    • Night Talk at Harvey's
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #32 on: 03 Mar 2008, 07:49 »

Okay, kids, I think it's time to hand over - I really do need the sleep. Anyone who wants to be the narrator, please go right ahead and run with the last request, which I think was Sox's.

Thank you for your kind words, all requesters, and thank you all for helping me practice my genre writing. To whoever asked before, no I haven't ever been published outside of a school magazine, but I am writing a novel at the moment: it's a funny happy little yarn about the end of the world as we know it. In a bizzle!
Logged
[02:29] Danosaur: I'd Spektor your Regina.

Lines

  • Awakened
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 10,330
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #33 on: 03 Mar 2008, 09:29 »

Boo. I may write one later, but this is one I want from someone else:

Epic war story parody, narwhals, and written in a journal entry style.
Logged
:grumpypuss: :grumpypuss: :grumpypuss:

onewheelwizzard

  • GET ON THE NIGHT TRAIN
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 2,597
  • Ha! Fool ...
    • http://www.livejournal.com/users/onewheelwizzard
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #34 on: 03 Mar 2008, 12:43 »

First of all let me say that ZJGent is a genius.  Congratulations to him.

Secondly, I don't think I can handle Sox's request, but I can give Linds's a shot, I guess.

Excerpt from the journal of Cheif Warrant Officer Arthur R. Davis, H.M.S. Hampshiretonfordingham, February 17th, 1919

2/17/19: Seaman Conway lost two fingers today to the cold.  The inhuman conditions to which we're subjected on this damned ship are enough to make a man question his fortitude in fulfilling the Crown's mission.  We've been told that the Great War has come to a close.  We on this ship are not so naive as to believe that it could truly be the war to end all wars.  The care that we give to our firearms in this beastly cold are more than enough proof of that.

The sole pleasure remaining to myself and my comrades is to watch the curious horned creatures that are constantly frolicking around in the abyssal depths beneath us.  Lieutenant Walker called them "Narr Whales" and I am forced to wonder who the mysterious Mr. Narr must have been, that they would name such an oddity after him.  The Narr whales have become our constant and seemingly cheerful companions on this otherwise miserable voyage through the Arctic seas.

That my journey through the Great War should come to this, deployed with a mere 29 sailors to the remote Siberian coast, is enough to fill my heart with the utmost pride.  My commanders have repeatedly praised my value in the war effort and my contribution to Her Majesty's fighting force on the high seas.  However, I am constantly needled by Seaman Fitzpatrick's apparent disloyalty, as is shown in his incessant comments offering doubts as to the necessity, even the legitimacy, of our mission.  His talk of "the Bolshevik struggle" in Russia and the rise of some strange thing called "Marxism" hints that perhaps he is serving masters separate from the Crown.  It is with caution that I speak of our purpose to him.
« Last Edit: 04 Mar 2008, 22:00 by onewheelwizzard »
Logged
also at one point mid-sex she asked me "what do you think about commercialism in art?"

Lines

  • Awakened
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 10,330
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #35 on: 03 Mar 2008, 13:33 »

Hehehe, the second paragraph made me chuckle. Well done, sir.
Logged
:grumpypuss: :grumpypuss: :grumpypuss:

Tom

  • Older than Moses
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 4,090
  • 8==D(_(_(
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #36 on: 03 Mar 2008, 13:38 »

Narr should read this, seriously.
Logged

KvP

  • WoW gold miner on break
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 6,720
  • COME DOWN NOW
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #37 on: 03 Mar 2008, 23:13 »

Okay, whomever wants it -

Genre - Political thriller
themes - 1. The high cost of printer ink.
              2. Buddhism.

Consider it a challenge.
Logged
I review, sometimes.
Quote from: Andy
I love this vagina store!
Quote from: Andy
SNEAKY
I sneak that shit
And liek
OMG DICK JERK

Elizzybeth

  • Beyoncé
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 735
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #38 on: 04 Mar 2008, 02:31 »

Election Costs

Robert Larsen had never been so excited in a hotel room, even on his honeymoon.  Rebecca managed to coax him under the burgundy blanket, managed to prop him up against the pillows, but he would not turn off the television.  With 95% of precincts reporting, it was still too close to call.

"You know they'll call us when it's time," she said again, touching his shoulder gently.  "You'll feel better with a little bit of sleep."

Polling places had closed at 9, but there were fancy brand-new machines yet again, and, as nice as they looked, they were still buggy and efficiency had decreased so much that the speech planned for midnight had to be postponed indefinitely.  The hotel banquet hall was still filled with people waiting for the results to be announced, but Bob had been mingling since three in the afternoon and his advisers all recommended a couple of hours of sleep.

"I'm enough immersed in the sleep of ignorance," he told Rebecca now, and she sighed.  For Robert, this was more than a pun; if elected, he would be California's first Buddhist governor.  Though an adult convert, he believed vehemently in its tenets and had managed to work the middle way, the four noble truths, and the eightfold path into many of his campaign speeches.

Some people questioned that he could simultaneously desire to govern and be attempting to extinguish cravings, but he explained to anyone who would listen that it was not a craving--he felt called to it.

Politics had attracted him from the beginning.  He'd run for everything in school: student council, hall monitor, library aid.  It wasn't until his senior year, however, running for class president, that he decided that he wanted this as a career.  The potency of the idealism, the thrill of the race, the unequaled satisfaction when he began to experience the implementation of his ideas... it was a rush.  Of course, he knew even then that there were drawbacks to the life.  He spent upwards of $100 on printer ink that year printing fliers at home--someone had once told him that printer ink was more expensive than human blood, and after that election, he believed it.  But it was worth it.  Each flier had a picture of a different student with the caption "I'M VOTING LARSEN '04."  They were simple, personable, effective.  It was a landslide election, in Bob's favor.

Thirty years later, 98% of precincts now reporting at 3 a.m., Larsen was pulling ahead again.  The frosty-haired reporter smiled at him from the TV screen, which was paper thin and touch sensitive.  She brushed a strand of hair out of her eye and explained that the CNNBC network was now calling it for Larsen.

Bob just had time to let out a hoot of excitement and kiss his wife before his cell phone started from ringing across the room--it was sitting on the little breakfast table.  He stood up to go pick it up, ready for the congratulations, ready for this long night to end.

There was a crash of glass and Bob fell to the floor.  Rebecca screamed.  Blood and little bits of brain matter were splattered all over the wall, on the carpet, on the cream-colored pillow shams.

A perfect headshot.

The assassin was caught a few hours later, travelling at 150 miles an hour down I-5.  He was held at $2 million bail--Bob Larsen's blood was more expensive than printer ink.
« Last Edit: 04 Mar 2008, 02:44 by Elizzybeth »
Logged

McTaggart

  • William Gibson's Babydaddy
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 2,463
  • Positive feedback.
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #39 on: 04 Mar 2008, 06:50 »

Armand and Calliope

Haha, thankyou. It gets a little Ogden Nash, but it's still quite neat.
Logged
One day ends and another begins and we're never none the wiser.

KvP

  • WoW gold miner on break
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 6,720
  • COME DOWN NOW
Logged
I review, sometimes.
Quote from: Andy
I love this vagina store!
Quote from: Andy
SNEAKY
I sneak that shit
And liek
OMG DICK JERK

Boro_Bandito

  • William Gibson's Babydaddy
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 2,295
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #41 on: 04 Mar 2008, 13:06 »

I am joining in on this. I'd like to write a little short for someone else, but I'd also like one of the writers to do one for me.

A Comedy about College Bio Class, meiosis, and sexual tension
Logged
Yeah, I mean, "I won't kill and eat you if you won't kill and eat me" is typically a ground rule for social groups.

Tactical Error

  • Plantmonster
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 25
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #42 on: 04 Mar 2008, 13:15 »

I'd like a ghost story involving a programmer, a cowboy hat, and a stuffed tiger.
Logged
Quote from: camelpimp
Funny how recognizing the problem doesn't really help one on the road to solving it.
http://tacticalerror.deviantart.com/

singeivoire

  • Guest
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #43 on: 04 Mar 2008, 14:20 »

Blobology

“I think my brain is beginning to liquefy and drip out on to my notes.” Jarrett Miller leans over to me and whispers this in my ear so I get gooseflesh all down my neck. The delicious chill settles in my nipples as I give his notes a perfunctory look.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just drool, Jerry.”

“Aw, now that’s not nice. Can I help it if I was born with dribble-prone lips?”

“Shhhh – I’m trying to pay attention!” It’s an out and out lie. Dr. Dixon - affectionately known as Dr. Dickwad to anyone who can’t dodge his section of BIO1001 - lost me about 45 minutes ago.

I’m sitting in the upper echelons of The Amphitheatre, or Faculty Hall Room 110, staring down upon endless rows of undergrads – most dozing, some furiously taking notes. Give it up, folks, it’s hopeless. Dr. Dickwad is pointing at a picture of a blob which is projected on the screen at the front of the room. I can’t distinguish it from all the other blobs he’s shown us over the last month and a half. Blobs with tentacles. Blobs with eight-syllable names. Blobs in flowcharts. Blobs beget blobs beget blobs. Biology was no where near this bad in high school.

Jarrett Miller, my roommate’s boyfriend, is a lot more interesting.

“D’ya think if we, like, acted out what he was talking about, it would make more sense?” He’s whispering at me again. I try to focus on the notebook paper in front of me only to find that my handwriting has been drifting free of its moorings on the lined sheet. May as well just give up and flirt.

“Heh, it’s worth a try – except I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Okay, well I’ll be the blob on the right…” He then proceeds to make a show of fixing his attention on Dickwad. He forms a pulsating spheroid with his enterlacing fingers and even provides blurping sound effects with those gorgeous “dribble-lips” of his.

I watch him listening to Dickwad’s drone with half an ear. “Meiosis, not to be confused with Miosis or Mitosis, is the process by which one diploid eukaryotic cell divides…”

(Bloop-blurrp-blup, Jarrett’s fingers wiggle apart)

“ …twice to generate four haploid cells….”

(‘Shit, we need four – you have to do it too…’ he gestures to my fingers. I obediently blurp as well.)

“…The result is the formation of gametes….”

(We both hold up our hands triumphantly.)

“… in turn, two gametes from different sources may join to form a new diploid germ cell…”

(We fumble around for one another’s hands, forming a new blurping blob. The giggles are getting pretty furious at this point.)

“… this is the essential process by which all eukaryotic sexual reproduction takes place.”

I gaze, horror-stricken, for a moment at the blob of hands between us, certain that I must be turning purple. Jarrett is looking at the hands too. I think we’re both too shocked to pull away just then.

God, he’s leaning in to whisper in my ear again. He’s getting closer – closer…

“Sweetie – it’s a girl!”

****************

That may be the silliest thing I've ever written.
« Last Edit: 04 Mar 2008, 14:48 by singeivoire »
Logged

öde

  • Vulcan 3-D Chess Master
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 3,767
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #44 on: 04 Mar 2008, 14:41 »

Logged

singeivoire

  • Guest
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #45 on: 04 Mar 2008, 14:44 »

*bows
Logged

onewheelwizzard

  • GET ON THE NIGHT TRAIN
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 2,597
  • Ha! Fool ...
    • http://www.livejournal.com/users/onewheelwizzard
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #46 on: 05 Mar 2008, 00:04 »

An Unhealthy Piece of Real Estate

Keith and Glenn Stapleton surveyed the new apartment.  "I figure we can fit half the servers in this closet, if we open up a ventilation duct to cool them down," remarked Keith as he surveyed the room that would've been a bedroom if they had any intention of sleeping in their new place.  The two brothers were set to make a fortune with their new internet poker franchise, but they needed a space to keep the equipment they'd recently ordered to make it a reality.  The arrangements were all set ... once they had the site up and running, their advertising contracts would start paying off, the cash they skimmed from the virtual tables would start flowing in, and they'd earn six figures each within a few months.  The two skinny coders had figured out a foolproof scheme and they were going to be rich.  They'd even started wearing 10-gallon hats and western-style embroidered shirts to fit the poker-kingpin image they were trying to cultivate.

The last room to explore was the bathroom, and neither of the Stapletons cared much for its contents ... they would've been satisfied with just a pot to piss in.  But something caught Glenn's eye in the medicine cabinet, half-hidden by the sliding mirror door.  It was bright orange and black, and a second glance confirmed it to be a small stuffed tiger, the sort that could be bought from any zoo gift shop for 12.95.

"Hey Keith, check this out.  They left a stuffed animal in the bathroom.  What's it doing here anyway?  Shouldn't it be in the bedroom or something?"

Glenn reached for the tiger.  Something flickered in the mirror, and he hesitated for a second.  A chill went up his spine and he wiped his hand on his thigh as it suddenly began to itch.  He turned on the faucet to wash it, and the faucet coughed twice and started trickling slowly into his hand.  Glenn relaxed.  "Keith, the plumbing in this place sucks."  "Who cares?" replied Keith from the nearby kitchen.  Glenn muttered something about that being a good point and finished washing his hands, then glanced back at the tiger.  He gasped at the empty space where it had been only moments before.  "Fuck!  Keith, there is something seriously weird about this place."

There was a pause, and Glenn frowned.  "Keith?  You hear me?" he asked, turning towards the door of the bathroom.  "I said this place has me seriously creeped out right now."  The shower curtain rustled and he jumped.  A faint gurgle sounded from the direction of the kitchen.  Glenn rushed into the kitchen to find nothing but his brother's massive cowboy hat sitting on the table.  "What the fuck, Keith?  Where are you?" he shouted.  In a panic, he dropped to all fours and looked under the table.  Nothing.  He frantically started opening cabinets, knowing that there was no way his brother could be in any of them.  Then it hit him - the fridge.  His brother had hidden in the fridge just to fuck with him!  He yanked the door of the fridge open and jumped back in horror.

His brother's body toppled out, a stuffed tiger's head protruding from his mouth as his eyes stared into nothing.
Logged
also at one point mid-sex she asked me "what do you think about commercialism in art?"

CamusCanDo

  • Curry sauce
  • ***
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 276
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #47 on: 05 Mar 2008, 00:12 »

Just because I can:

Genre - Pirate fic.

Theme - Molemen

- Jealousy
Logged

ledhendrix

  • Vagina Manifesto
  • ****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 689
  • *poke*
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #48 on: 05 Mar 2008, 00:35 »

This thread is fucking excellent, all those stories are great.

I would like one involving Santa, a Scottish Physicist with a barely intelligible and a mole thrown in for good measure.
Logged
Get off my land

Jimmy the Squid

  • Vulcan 3-D Chess Master
  • *****
  • Offline Offline
  • Posts: 3,589
  • Feminist Killjoy
Re: Attention! Fiction!
« Reply #49 on: 05 Mar 2008, 00:39 »

What's a barely intelligible?
Logged
Once I got drunk and threw up in the vegetable drawer of an old disused fridge while dressed as a cat
Pages: [1] 2   Go Up