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Snitch

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[spoiler=My Chapter]

 

"What is it Richard?, Whats wrong?" Asked Maria with a very concerned look, Richard did not reply, after what he had seen, he could not find words that could discribe it. Maria came closer but Richard backed away, Maria then looked even more worried, she then asked again, "what is it?!" She said with a blast of energy, but Richard replyed with even more blast, "I JUST SAW SOMEONE GET MURDERED!!!" He then quickly realised that he had just said something that he was about to regret.

 

There was a pause of silence, then Maria quickly jolted to the phone, "then we better call the police.." Maria said with a look on her face that was so worried, that she could be named the most worried person at the time. But Richard grabbed the phone and thrown it at the wall, smashing it into peices, Maria looked straight at Richard, "what the hell have you done!!" Richard backed away to the door, but Maria stood infront of it so he couldn't escape, Richard sighed with grief and spoke, "ok, i'll explain........"

 

Richard and Maria walked into the kitchen and sat down, "go on Richard......" "Well, it all started last night when i went out, i was with some mates, well, atleast i thought they were my mates.." He took a deep breath, and continued. "You see, this old lady walked past us, we were pissed on alchol at the time, so anyway, she asked us were the clinic was, we answered back "whats it to you?!" in a stupid ass fashion, she recoiled in discust and walked off with a stress, but suddenly one of us grabbed her and stabbed her, right there and then with a kitchen knife, the poor woman......" Richard then broke out in tears.

 

 

 

 

I know it might be cheesy and i don't know if its traditional, but this was off the top of my head.

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I guess I'll hand in my work so far. I was hoping to extend it but eh.

 

 

I.

 

The ghost in the cowboy boots swayed like a drunkard in the pouring rain, the heels of his boots leaning back and forth on the sidewalk. Raindrops streaked his dust-covered gaunt face, leaving trails of moisture across his cheeks, forehead, nose, and neck. His canvas-studded pants and tunic whipped angrily in the deafening wind, with one unclad hand reaching up and pulling this mysterious man’s pioneer hat tightly down on his head. The eyes, jet black and as malicious-looking as eyes could be, glared sharply down at my figure only a few yards away from him through half-slitted eyelids. I was now shivering in the frigid dampness of the empty avenue, with a plastic bag in one hand, containing a gallon of milk and a carton of eggs.

 

I had first mistaken the ghost for a hobo or wino from his haggard appearance, ragged clothes, and the brutally simple fact that he was standing motionless in the middle of the street at 1 A.M., letting the rain flow over him. However, as I moved closer to him, not because of curiosity but because he was in my path, I saw the cowboy hat, the riding boots, the fur-seamed vest he wore, the ammunition that lined the leather belt hanging slanted across his slim waist, but most of all, I saw the two long and oversized revolvers that the ghost donned on both hips, suspended by the buckles on his belt. My casual saunter from the supermarket to my cozy apartment had turned into a cautious tread and by the time his eyes met mine, I had stopped to a halt completely, powerless to do anything but stare at those terrible eyes burning with emotionlessness. I tried helplessly to pull my eyes away, but only succeeded in staring at those god-almighty big revolvers. Without a moment’s notice, the ghost spoke towards me, his voice holding a hoarse and croaking quality with the accent of a drawling Westerner.

 

“I shuggest you drop dat pistol you got in your left hand or I may feel obliged to put two holes in your guts, pardner.” The ghost’s lips moved lazily as these words came out of his mouth as if he was talking to a close acquaintance about how the weather would be like on Thursday. I suddenly felt light-headed, wanting to faint. The logic of this situation I was in was staggering and I couldn’t for the love of my life figure out how I was to answer a question like that. No, it wasn’t a question. It was a demand. And what did he exactly demand of me? Did he just tell me to drop my pistol-

 

“Time ain’t moving slower, sweetcheeks. Drop the gun and you better believe that’s an order.” In a flash, the hand clutching the cowboy hat flew to the left revolver and the other hand flew to the right. I only had time to glance at the flapping hat gliding in the wind before I had two extremely large barrels staring down at me. Oh boy, what a mess I gotten myself into. Crazy man thinks he’s a cowboy and now he’s holding me at gunpoint, telling me to drop a gun that doesn’t exist. I attempted to open my slack jaw to yell out for help, but it wouldn’t budge. For the first time in my fairly short life, I was speechless and unable to help myself from doing the thing that was most likely going to kill me: Scream bloody mary until my lungs burst out. So there I stood for several seconds, which felt like hours, doing nothing but standing there with groceries in one hand and a pencil in the other.

 

A pencil. In a flash of mad inspiration, I raised the writing utensil up to my eyes, fully aware that this ghost was following it with his own black eyes as well. I suddenly remembered my age-old habit of twirling a pencil around in one hand in times of boredom. It must have been somewhere on the walk home that I found myself unable to stop this habit from occurring. Quite the gun I’m holding in my hand. Without hesitation, I cocked back my arm and threw the pencil across the street. It clattered to the asphalt. I moved my eyes back to the ghost and was nerve-shaken to see that the ghost had not lowered his weapons down. In fact, it seemed as if he looked even more grave if that was possible. What do I do now-

 

I had a brief glimpse of two slugs rushing through the chilling air, moonlight twinkling off of the smooth, steel surfaces, before I felt them driving immediately into my stomach. I grunted an oof and felt the sensation of those metal bullets twisting and turning, relentlessly working to turn my innards into bloody pulp. My hand flew to my chest, now spouting red liquid out into the rain. The slugs then rushed out of my lower back the same way they entered. Pain instantly flared up and into my brain, dimming every one of my thoughts in a red haze of disorientation. Everything went in slow motion from that point on. My eyes slowly fell upon the cowboy and his lips were pulled back tautly, forming a shark’s grin. Thunder roared from the revolvers as he pumped slug after slug into my body. In a last moment of consciousness, I shut my eyes and fell backwards as I slipped on my own blood on the concrete sidewalk. I fell.

 

Fell into my bed. My hands ran to my chest, groping around for those wounds that the ghost in the cowboy boots inflicted upon me. My beating hands found only phantom wounds that were already fading away into that midnight where all dreams vanish to after waking up. I unfolded my eyes and saw my deepest fear in front of me. My bedroom ceiling. My heart pounded a tantrum in my chest, convulsing my body in a seizure beyond belief. My legs and arms flailed underneath my plain white sheets while my head twisted and turned, struggling to keep up with the accelerating organ in my chest. My lips opened...and shut right away. Opened and shut. (LIKE A FISH ABOVE WATER A FISH ABOVE WATER THAT’S IT THAT’S IT) My hands danced on the mattress, crying out in their own way. As my lips opened again in the next cycle, I finally gasped in a breath of air and screamed out words that had been bottled up in my lungs ever since my forced awakening.

 

“COWBOY! BOOTS! GHOST! I WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE.”

 

II.

Time was funny during that night. I knew that I had woken up somewhere around the witching hours of 2 A.M. and 4 A.M yet time had stopped, rewound itself like a giant, dangling pocket watch hanging somewhere in the cosmos, and fast forwarded spastically. My mind was jerked from its quivering body at times and I screamed out for my mother to come and help. If I wasn’t paralyzed with fear in the darkness, I would have jumped out of my sweaty mattress and run through the empty apartment building. Screaming incoherently. And continue running until the sun came up and then I would have crawled into a dark corner of a room and suck my thumb until I lost my mind. But that didn’t happen. I shrieked and writhed in my bed until I eventually tired out and fell back to a dreamless sleep in an half-conscious state of mind.

 

The nightmares has been continuing this way for eight weeks and counting now. My name is Richard Delain. I am pleased to meet your acquaintance and I hope that you will not mind the insanity that embodies me.

 

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Nothing Special, just a little part of a short story I have been writing lately.

 

[spoiler= My Traditional Piece]

The night was hot; the moonlight spilled through the tall trees leaving pools of shadow all over the leaf-covered forest floor. A warm breeze wafted among the undergrowth. The wood was at rest; nothing stirred. It seemed as though it would stay that way forever, but morning had to come, as it always does. Dawn arrived; golden fingers of sunshine reaching out and trying to take as much of the sky as they could. Then the sun itself appeared, a golden ball of shimmering heat, illuminating the dew that rested delicately on the bushes and flowers. A foot from the ground, nestled neatly in the crook of a large leaf, was a single white egg; a tiny egg. As the sun rose to a height, a slanting sunbeam caught the white surface, making the dew on its surface shine. The egg began to crack slowly, and soon it was broken completely; a few moments later a small yellow, black and white caterpillar emerged out of his destroyed house. The broken egg fell, discarded, to the ground. The small creature looked around him; he could smell food. As his eyes became accustomed to the sunlight, the caterpillar was able to examine the leaf he had hatched on. This was where the smell was coming from, he was sure of it. The larvae took a small bite, then another, then another. It enjoyed the taste of the leaf. On and on he chewed, until he had chomped through the whole leaf. During that day, the caterpillar ate through three leaves, and when the sun finally slipped below the horizon again, he curled up on a leaf that was half under another leaf. Sheltered in this way, he went to a deep sleep.

 

 

The morning after, the small larvae was glad he had thought to shelter under a leaf; when he woke up, large raindrops were bombarding his plant and the ground all around him. It was warm, spring rain however, and by noon, only glassy, reflective pools were left, sitting in the bowl shapes of the crisp leaves lying all over the ground. A blackbird flew over, landed on a twig nearby, and began to sing. The caterpillar crawled forward and looked around to see what was making the beautiful sound. The bird’s song echoed through the trees, and the larvae hung happily on a leaf and listened. Suddenly, the blackbird’s head twitched in the caterpillar’s direction. His eyes narrowed. The caterpillar saw in horror that first, the bird was about to attack, and second, that he had to drop if he was to survive. He loosened his grip just as the bird exploded towards him, it’s beak hanging greedily open. The small caterpillar fell downwards and had a bouncy landing on a green leaf just below as the blackbird shot past the place he had been just milliseconds before, it’s beak snapping shut, empty. The larvae cowered under his leaf, terrified. The blackbird flew off, wing beats fading into the trees. It had been a close escape.

 

 

That evening, the caterpillar made sure he was totally under a leaf, so as not to be spotted. The forest was steamy; all the water from the previous downpour was evaporating. The larvae fell asleep. When he awoke, the small creature munched on a juicy leaf for a while, then peeked out from under his shelter. The sound of bees could be heard, busily collecting pollen from the pretty flowers amongst the bushes. Squirrels jumped from tree to tree, playing. The woods were beautiful today. But as the caterpillar remembered the events of the day before, he knew that they were also very dangerous.

 

 

Several days later, the larvae, by instinct, began to spin a smooth shell around itself. He anchored it to a strong leaf on his plant. For days, that was how it stayed. The sun rose, then the sun set. Still the cocoon stayed where it was, unmoving. Then one day, when the dew was still on the ground, and the sun was just starting to heat the forest, the hanging house began to stir. One glossy end split open, and as the sun went higher, a bedraggled butterfly struggled out. It had been a huge effort to break out from his hard cocoon. The woods glowed gold with sunlight which warmed the new creature lying on the leaf. The butterfly’s wings stretched out as blood flowed into them and as they did, the bright colors could be seen; orange and black with white spots, vividly painted onto wafer-thin wings. The butterfly that was once a caterpillar rose effortlessly into the air, leaving behind his old life. It was a completely new creature. He looked at himself. What an amazing change from what he was before! The butterfly was sure now that he didn’t need to be afraid of the blackbird, or any thing else. He knew that his wings would keep him safe. And as he rose, the air was suddenly full of butterflies; hundreds, thousands. The sun shone on their wings and made them glow.

 

 

The butterflies knew that they would face many dangers and snares. They knew life wouldn’t be easy. But they would learn to trust their wings; they would make it. Then, with a warm breeze to help them, the cloud of colorful insects fluttered upwards, together.

 

 

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Guest Supreme Gamesmaster

I'm in. :twisted:

I could copy/paste my evil laugh, but I don't wanna waste bandwidth.

 

For the first round, should I use my Exovarcéôs prologue or my Redemption Heart prologue? I refuse to decide for myself.

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Hope this isn't too late

 

[spoiler=Bad Luckia Days Prologue]

Bad Luckia Days: Prologue

 

Welcome new face, to the town of Bad Luckia. A place where many would say ‘wow, it sucks to be ya’. It’s a place where superstitions do rule, making each person look like the fool. People walk under ladders and they pass by black cats. They break every mirror and drop salt for the rats. This place is grim and untrimmed, with no hope at all. That is until, seven bright sparks in fall. These seven did claim ‘Bad Luck no more’, and will discover the reason of bad luck for sure.

 

‘Man, I can’t believe the Doom Day Concert was cancelled because of the drummer getting a broken leg. Man, this blows, I had everything set out with my date with Sal. What rotten luck’ a man complained. ‘Chill Tomix, you know you’re not supposed to complain about luck, Cat’s goons will be over you in a snap’ his partner scolded. Tomix sighed and looked at the ground. It was marked by many falls and cracks, where a medley of objects had crashed. ‘Hmph, it’s not as if you can complain Hela, you and Meera Onawall have barely started talking to each other, let alone even tried to romantically kiss. You were doomed from the start’ Tomix said. Nearby, a man walked under a ladder and then Tomix tripped over a poorly placed crack and crashed straight into Sal. ‘Tomix Desra, what are you doing?’ she asked coyly and pushed him off. ‘Sorry Sal, I was too busy talking to Hela, and I tripped on the poorly placed crack over there. ‘Oh, well, that’s okay then’ she said, sounding disappointed. ‘Yeah, I was actually coming round to tell you, the Doom Day Concert was cancelled because the drummer broke his leg after walking through a busy street and passing a black cat’ he explained. ‘Oh, I heard about, seriously, what rotten luck, I was hoping we could’ve spent the evening together’ Sal said. ‘Eh, I guess we can rent out a couple of movies and eat pop corn, as usual’ Hela suggested. They all groaned, unawares of shadows stirring in the nearby alley.

 

‘So, more people are complaining about our town’s bad luck? That is disappointing; after all, I pay you men well, and this is all you can do, report these things to me?’ a woman said coldly to a pair of kneeling guards. She was wearing a midnight black dress that didn’t billow out, but remained close to her body. Her hair was long, with two small hair coils on the top of her head that looked like cat ears. A long black and gold staff was held loosely in her left hand. ‘Forgive us mademoiselle Cat, but, there are thousand of citizens in Bad Luckia, we don’t have the man power to support us’ one of the two generic guards said. Cat eyed them both coldly. ‘Then get more men, you expect I, Cat Black to do all your work for you? Pitiful, get out and don’t come back without the peace of this city, understood?’ she hissed coldly and banged her staff. Both men departed rapidly, they ran once they got out the door. Cat Black sighed at the sprawling city visible through her window. ‘I hate hearing about bad luck, there’s nothing I can do about it, and I am only 19 after all. Curse you dad, why did you have to die in that war against Supercious Sticious’s forces’ she said sadly. Cat got off her thrown and walked out onto the balcony, unnoticing of the odd shadows creeping about.

 

Tomix had avoided severe injury again after getting home and continued to fume over the concert. ‘Stupid rotten luck, this isn’t right. Why should we have to suffer, it’s as if our town is the nexus for karma. And we’ve done nothing wrong, well, it stops now, I’m going to get the gang and we’re going to find and dispel our bad luck once and for all, with an e-mail of course’ Tomix decreed. He ran over to his computer and began to type the message down.

 

‘Meet me at home base at 8pm tomorrow; I think it’s about time we discovered why our town is plagued with bad luck, and so we can then find a way to stop it, once, and for all. I want absolute secrecy on this guys, no one is to be involved in this besides us. I don’t want the other citizens to be foiled by bad luck. Come alone, for the best, I think we six can solve this together.’

~Tomix

 

Satisfied, he sent off the e-mail to each friend, in hopes to uncover the reason of Bad Luckia.

 

Hela just got on to checking his e-mails when Tomix’s came in. He read it quickly and smirked. ‘He won’t let that damn concert go, oh well, this’ll be another one of his useless escapades, it’ll fizzle out after a day or too’ he said and wrote down the specifics. Sal herself coincidently checked her e-mails and got the message too. ‘So, it’s time for another group outing eh? It has been so long since one, I think we were in grade 7 the last time, I wonder if Tomix is being honest with this one?’

 

Cat had hacked into the network for the entire town, and had captured an e-mail that seemed interesting. She scanned over it and smirked. ‘Someone is going to try and solve the reason for bad luck. Well, maybe I can help them, after all, I’m not some stupid spoiled princess, but, I’ll need a cunning disguise, and name change of course. And I think I got it’ she said, looking into the mirror. She chuckled wickedly as she deleted the e-mail. ‘And, I know the rendezvous point already. That Tomix used to think I was just some snob, well, I remember your hang-out, and, I’m going, whether you like it or not’.

 

Tomix had been waiting patiently at the rendezvous for 15 minutes before Hela caught up with him. ‘Why couldn’t you have made it your house, the river boroughs are too small for us now.’ ‘Nonsense, I’ve been expanding it for years, plus, I’ve found a real cool cave as well. Don’t worry your pretty little head about this. I’ve already made a fire’ Tomix said. Every few minutes, each of his friends came down into the hideout. Once all six were seated, they began role call. ‘Okay, Tomix Desra, here. Hela Vator, here. Sal Shaker, here. Carrie Ma, here. Meera Onawall, here. Oliver Ladder, here’ Tomix said, ticking each name and sitting down. ‘You forgot one Tomix’ Sal said. ‘Who?’ he asked. ‘Her’ she said, pointing to someone who had entered the cave. She had an uncertain look on her face, she had two long black pigtails that stretched to the small of her back. ‘I’m Blac Cat, I somehow got your e-mail, you were so inspiring. I came straight down to here after learning the location from Sal’ she said. Tomix sighed by this. ‘Whatever, okay now, I brought you guys here because I want to dispel the bad luck of our town. I don’t think it’s natural, so, we’re going to find out the curse behind Bad Luckia’ Tomix stated.

 

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sigh.... I'm in. Not because I'm good. Because I do need improvement.I'll work on my iece right away. Again, no promises on its quality.


I'm sorry mine wasn't about stabbing someone over and over ^^[spoiler=Wedding Crasher: Prologue]

I promised my friend I'd be there for her wedding. I promised.

If anything, I'm loyal to my word.

 

"Quinn," my friend shouted, "I've got something for you."

"Oh, sweet. A... letter?" I guessed. "Open it." My friend was so excited I sware she forgot how to breathe. I tore the envelope open by the top corner, dragging a strip off. As I pulled out the card my finger traced the edge. It had a very nice design, delicate and parchment-like. I read the title slowly. "You're cordially invited..." I knew what was coming. I had overheard gossip about it from a bowling team member. David proposed to Erica after all.

 

Flashback

 

"Oh, hey Quinn. Uhm, can I ask you something?" Willing to help, I replied positively. "Sure. What is it?" David's naturally shy face seemed to have a deeper blush to it than normal. he stared down at me with his bedroom blue eyes and asked, "What do you think Erica would say if-"

"If you were to propose to her?" I cut him off midsentence. His expression changed. He looked less embarassed and more confident about the conversation now. "Yeah. How'd you know?" he asked. I grinned wryly as i reminded him, "I saw you shopping in K Jewlers."

I sat down, thinking David would have more questions. But his blackberry sounded off. Boy, do I hate that Blackberry. He has the most annoying buzzing noise, and he doesn't know how to change it. He can barely use the blackberry at all. I remember he had something that needed to be taken care of at work.

 

Erica seemed upset that I wasn't as shocked as her. The look on her face asked me how I knew. "David," I murmured. She flashed her bold smile and rolled her eyes. I finished my coffee and we were on our way.


and yes, mine is short. I half-assed it, but.. oh well ^^


sorry for all the double posts :D point system = good idea

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here we go. This is my entry.

 

[spoiler=A wandering mind]

Have you ever had a waking dream? Or perhaps a dream so real that reality itself seemed no more real then the antics of a Saturday morning cartoon? If so how does one wake up?

 

As I sit here telling you my thoughts I can't help but wonder if I'm dreaming, or am I awake? Perhaps somewhere in between? These are things I can't answer because I do not know, but should that really stop me? People answer questions without knowing the answer all the time most of the time they are wrong, some times they are right, but the point is they answered.

 

Either Way as I look around i see a world made shades of grey and black, things with illogical forms and minds wander each day between towers with millions of gleaming eyes forever watching as these illogical creatures destroy each other from within and out as they scramble to the top of their pile. But when I close my eyes the world takes on a different tone. The brilliance of the world nearly blinds me, perfection surrounds me like the air itself. Beauty defines every creature in my sight, I can see how their minds work in a perfectly logical way. Have I found paradise I wonder. Than I ease open my eyes.

 

And the world is dark again.

 

 

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