YCM Official Creative Writing Club

[Thar]

I guess I'll take this time to officially say I'm pulling out of this prompt cause it is just too vague for me. There are just too many songs that sprout too many story ideas. I'll try to read through others' stories and give my two cents, but until a narrower prompt is given, I won't be writing anything cause I work a lot better with those.

[LordCowCowCowCowCowCowCowCow]

Yo, Cow. I'm not attacking you, I'm not even saying you were wrong to post that here, if fact I was glad you did. What I was saying is that, when you write a story, it's the story we should be interested in. The world is a function of that, you typed out names, and facts, and vague ideas for the world. But I was trying to force out of you, that I wanted to know about what you were trying to communicate rather than what you built in your head for the sake of itself. I was really not trying to be an ass, I'm harsh because I am but I never intended to insult or offend you. The kind of story you want to write is something you should be inspired on, it's never  a task, so I was trying to draw from you the story YOU wanted to draw from it rather than trying to force you to write one not of your own inspiration. I'm truly sorry if it came off that bad, it was never my intent.

It's okay I overreacted. Which is why I left till now. And the reason I put the worlds down there was to give what little info of the past stuff done, and try and get a place to start.

I'm not sure what the story I want to create is. I mostly want to write interesting characters, dialogue, and fights. And I need a story and setting to do that successfully. Just I'm unsure what kind of story, what kind of setting.

When i write I just do. So it's hard for me to decide on a starting point.

[Mugendramon]

I guess I'll take this time to officially say I'm pulling out of this prompt cause it is just too vague for me. There are just too many songs that sprout too many story ideas. I'll try to read through others' stories and give my two cents, but until a narrower prompt is given, I won't be writing anything cause I work a lot better with those.

 

How bout we pick your song for you, if you just can't decide which one of your stories to follow?

[mitchermitcher]

I guess I'll take this time to officially say I'm pulling out of this prompt cause it is just too vague for me. There are just too many songs that sprout too many story ideas. I'll try to read through others' stories and give my two cents, but until a narrower prompt is given, I won't be writing anything cause I work a lot better with those.

This was my problem until the last two days of the due date as well, then I decided to screw it and stick with a song and not think too much and write whatever images come to my head. When I started thinking about what story ideas to go with which songs I couldn't get anywhere. Honestly I agree it's too open of a prompt but it's not impossible. Pick a song, write something, if you're bored with the song or with what you're writing, pick a new song and start writing a new story. You'll get there eventually. I went through five songs and five unfinished pieces until I got to the current one.

Since my friend passed away close to two weeks ago, I've been depressed and avoiding spending time forcing myself into labor I didn't have to. I've been feeling better, I'll see if I can get some reviews done.

Was bored cuz of the lack of new prompts to do rather than reviews, I forgot about that sorry.

 

Alright I was debating if to post this and how to phrase it and where. Decided to post, wing it, and here.

 

Okay so basically I'm trying to decide what I want to write. I'm trying to start fresh with a story, and try to take my time to make sure it's good, while still doing my usual writing style of not over-planning and seeing where the story takes me.

But I don't know what to do.

It would be fantasy, of some kind. I can't do technobabble to save my life and anything else doesn't feel right. It might be serious, it might not.

I need to figure out where to set it.

 

As of now I have several worlds. There's one that includes my main countries, Celta and Tevinus.

Celta is a land ruled by a line of Emperors who have total power, many lords, and is really bad at keeping his people safe but really good at keeping the country running just well enough for him to live well.

Tevinus is a land where magic is king, the Council governs over them and your status is determined by your magical ability.

 

Then there's IFNH, which some of you know of. A land of craziness and randomness filled with hundreds of races, and the main city, Centra City, is practically a country of its own.

 

And my most recent one, Plessia , which is a darker fantasy realm tied to a world similar to Earth. They don't know of each other but are connected. I don't have a ton of info about it but some can be found in my "Make a Character" thread in Misc.

 

And I could do a totally different setting, idk.

 

I have a story for Tevinus which the first novel is complete of. I have a massive amount of story/history/characters for Celta, where I don't even know where to start.

For IFNH I got a story on-going which is at about 50,000 words

For Plessia I have a first person experiment ongoing where atm I'm drawing a blank.

 

I could continue these stories but it doesn't feel right at this moment.

So basically I'm trying to figure out what I want to do now. All I know is I want a story to focus on...And I guess I'm posting here to get this said and see if anyone here has anything to help point me in a direction.

when in doubt roll a d6 die

 

Well you can always write a typical story of a person from our world transported/reincarnated into one of your fantasy worlds and explore things from that direction. Alternatively, transplant one of your characters from one of your worlds into another world for a similar but potentially more interesting result for you as an author. That's all I have.

[bury the year]

s'up

 

Username: Rinne.

What you want to be called: Dealer's choice.

What are your primary interests in writing: Uhhhhh, I'm writing now hashing out characters for a superhero 'verse, but in the past I've dabbled with fantasy, steampunk, sci-fi, slice of life... Lots of sheet, really.

What do you like most about creative writing: Unapologetic craziness.

[Night]

ayy my boy's here

[LordCowCowCowCowCowCowCowCow]

Okay so I was debating, do I want a story with fledgling fighters growing, or one where I can do some interesting and unique fights.

And I think I'll take a middle path, and put a couple weaker characters in with stronger ones, and see how that goes.

Yes I know that's a weird point to start with but gotta start somewhere.

This is what inspired me to write that.

 

Since I haven't contributed much I think I'll try and post the first chapter here once I finish it.

[Night]

y'all bastards need to post more 

[Aix]

Hm, I'm making a web serial once I get caught up on real life stuff that caters to the fantasy light novel crowd, specifically the fans of the portal fantasy and reincarnation fantasy subgenres.

 

I know Mitcher likes the genre and he read the little prologue I wrote months ago. Anyone else interested in reading a fun, grand scale fantasy?

 

My primary inspiration will probably be DnD or Forgotten Realms and what little I've read on MtG Salvation, but it'll be sorta animesque... like my RPs.

[Cosmo.]

Omg i'm such a mess i forgot i was in this. need to drop out, i'm way too forgetful.

[Makο]

I'm just awaiting the next prompt. It's nice to just be able to crank something out.

[Thar]

I'm just awaiting the next prompt. It's nice to just be able to crank something out.

 

I'm pretty hype too, though it'd be nice if I could come up with something for the current one. Mugen's idea of having a song picked for me seems reasonable, though it depends.

[Raine]

The week is over, my test's are concluded, and I was enjoying a well earned rest but Aix has cracked the bull whip and reminded me of that we need a new prompt. 

 

Prompt #2: Cops and Robbers

 

Write a short story or pilot chapter where the main character is either a member of law-enforcement/vigilant/renegade cop who plays by his own rules/etc. or a member of a criminal organization/terrorist/psychopath/misguided dark hero/etc in whatever time or world you want. 

 

Bonus points: Be creative about about where and when your story is, something original would make this prompt twice as fun. 

[Thar]

he week is over, my test's are concluded, and I was enjoying a well earned rest but Aix has cracked the bull whip and reminded me of that we need a new prompt. 

 

Prompt #2: Cops and Robbers

 

Write a short story or pilot chapter where the main character is either a member of law-enforcement/vigilant/renegade cop who plays by his own rules/etc. or a member of a criminal organization/terrorist/psychopath/misguided dark hero/etc in whatever time or world you want. 

 

Bonus points: Be creative about about where and when your story is, something original would make this prompt twice as fun. 

 

 

Wow, what a coincidence. I just finished a pilot chapter for a novel I plan on writing (eventually.) Though, it's pretty vulgar and objectively racist, so I'm hesitant to post it.

[JessicaMuddy]

How convenient. My novel I'm writing is sort of about this. Nobody's read it yet, so feedback would be nice.

[spoiler=The Prologue (651 Words)]

A woman in a bright red suit fizzled in and out of view on the flat screen TV. She paced across a bright white room, her mouth moving as if she were speaking, her hands moving as if she were showing the viewer something. Watching this screen were 20 cloaked figures, each with a pair of headphones over their ears. "… And since the event, our so called saviours haven't done a thing except ramble about how peace will come in due time. So we really must ask; are they really going to help us? Tune in tonight at 7 for our interview with the famous religious figurehead…" One of the cloaked men stood up from his seat, grabbing his headphones and tossing them across the room, only to be caught by a small woman, one of his servants.

"They're still going on about how we're the bad guys? Even after we saved them from certain extermination?! What about that tyrannical pope who swears to bring us down? We SAVED him! As well as all of his damn followers!" The screen faded out from the news reporter, revealing an image of the sun and a large metallic ball circling around it, with the words “same place, same time, new Earth” splashed across the bottom of the screen.

 

 

Location: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Time: 1:00 pm, May 3^rd, 2036

 

A man sat alone in an almost empty room. The dark brown walls retained the same musty stench they had from before the place was abandoned, and his wooden chair creaked just as the floorboards did. A panel of a pinboard on the wall was its only other inhabitant. Staring at the intricate system of strings all over the panel, the man sighed. “Anything new, Silhouette?” He then turned his head to the corner of the room furthest from him, where an exotic feminine voice spoke out.

“Of course. Why do you always doubt me, Paul?”

“Just making sure.” The man replied. “And that’s Kage to you.” He turned back to the pinboard, emotionless.

“King Charles and Bill Gates have had lunch together two days in a row in a restaurant in Miami. The place’s surveillance cameras haven’t picked up any shady deals, though there’s definitely something going on.” The shadowy figure steeped out of the darkness, revealing the woman, a 30 year old with light grey hair in a silky black outfit. “The agency wants you there by tomorrow morning. Gates is your new target.” A deep masculine chuckle filled the room, and Paul stood up, stretching his arms far above his head before moving. Standing toe to toe with his comrade, he responded:

“So what you’re telling me, is to fly to America, kill one of the most important billionaires in the world, hide his body and remove all evidence of us even having anything to do with him, all by tomorrow night?” Silhouette winced. “Then consider it done.” He finished, before opening a pale cream door next to the woman, and leaving.

 

Leaving the single-room building he called a house, Paul looked upwards and squinted. 7 years prior this would have been due to the sun, but now the bright light was just that – a gigantic light bulb on the inside of the metal ball now encompassing Earth. “Why the hell am I doing this?” Paul asked to himself. The one thing he didn’t expect to get was a reply, but a cold voice gave one anyway.

“Because they took us in. They gave us what we have and we have to pay them back with loyalty.” Silhouette stood behind him, a distant expression painted on her face. Both assassins knew they could leave at any time, but never had, to keep each other safe. That was the excuse they used, anyway. With another heavy sigh, Agent Kage began to walk, not paying any attention to the woman behind him.

[Thar]

Alright, I'm gonna post what I wrote so far. Fair warning, there's a lot of language and racial slurs, so keep an open mind.

 

[spoiler=1520 words]There were two black men, one being a foot taller than the other. The tallest one stood a towering six-foot seven with the proportional build of a fighter at average height. His beard appeared cleanly cut from a distance, but the smaller man could see bristles popping out, cringing at the sight.

“What you lookin’ at, nigglet?” the taller man’s voice was deep and ragged like puberty hit him twice in the throat.

“What am I lookin’ at?! Man, I’m lookin’ at the chin of a scraggly ass mothafucka! ...and what you callin’ ‘nigglet’? jabroni I’m older than your punk ass!”

“You know why they call you Yungkatz, right?”

“That name don’t mean sheet, you know I’m Olkilla, foo!” Olkilla, so named by his own mouth, paced the broken pavement that laid in front of the building whose structure screamed ‘abandoned.’ He kept sighing in impatience, looking at the Rolex watch that he snagged off a stubborn seller in the projects. He remembered it as if it all happened a tick of the clock’s face earlier, except at the time there was blood on it.

“Yeah well don’t forget why they call me Bildyung, cause I’m young and I’m built and I can drop kick you off that damn building after carrying your nigglet ass up with one hand.” Bildyung, also named by Olkilla’s mouth, stood tall with his arms crossed hard enough that if anyone had them wrapped around them, their bones would shatter. He watched Olkilla with rolling eyes.

“Man, I just wonder when the hell this mothafucka’s gonna get here. He said he’d get us some good pieces. sheet, he gon’ give us fuckin’ cop guns, jabroni.”

“Well, if you hadn’t have fuckin’ dropped the one you had, we wouldn’t have to stand here and look suspicious.”

“jabroni, shut the funk up!” Olkilla approached Bildyung as if to intimidate him, but the taller man didn’t budge, let alone flinch, “I’m tired of you gettin’ on my sheet, we might as well call you Shitfly.”

“Then I might as well call you Chihuahua, cause I’d be gettin’ on yo little dogs’ sheet in the backyard!” Bildyung burst into a hearty, wheezy laugh as Olkilla pushed him a couple inches back. Olkilla began to shoot back a comment in retaliation before he turned to see a cop car pulling up on the other side of the street.

“sheet!” he wanted to shout but immediately pulled into a whisper, “...sheet, BD, it’s the cops.”

“Who the hell’s BD?”

“You, jabroni! BD is yo initials, man.”

“Oh okay, so does that make you OK?” another hearty but quiet laugh erupted from BD’s throat, but OK did nothing to respond as his eyes were locked on the officer through the driver’s window.

“Looks like he’s just stoppin’ for a coffee break… who the hell drinks coffee this late in the afternoon?”

“I can name a few people-”

“jabroni, no one gives a sheet what you think!” another spurt of shouting was immediately muffled with effort, “...just stay calm, look like you just chillin’ on public property, no one owns this piece of sheet anymore.”

“Okay, OK.”

“...I fuckin’ hate those initials, just call me Killa.” he laughed in delight at the idea, “Nah in fact, call me OG Killa! Yeah, I like that.”

“Fine, then I’m OG Bill-D, cause initials sound stupid now.”

“Man, funk you! I bet that cop’s the one sellin’ us his gun just so I can clip yo scraggly-ass mouth!” Killa shook and rolled his shoulders, pausing for a moment to look at the man coming out from the blind curve that was covered by leafless trees of the snowless winter. The man was slouched over, walking with a petite body swinging like it was made of rubber but sturdy enough to not look like a clown. His hood was up and his hands were in his pockets as he looked both ways every ten seconds as if he was crossing the street.

“Man, look at this mothafucka…” Killa pointed at the approaching figure with a pitiful smirk, “This sucka look like he representin’ this shithole, look at ‘im!”

“I’m lookin’ at him, but I ain’t seein’ no colors.” Bill-D squinted as he leaned forward to try and get a better view, “Is he the guy we meetin’?”

“Man, funk no!” Killa backed away as if in retaliation of personal offense, “this midget-ass sucka? What he gonna sell us, BB guns?” he slapped his knee with a few syllables of forced laughter.

“Whoever he is, he look like he comin’ this way.”

“Look tough, D, but not too tough. Remember, there’s a cop right there.” Without pointing or looking in its direction, Bill-D knew what Killa was mentioning as he stood up and crossed his arms again. Killa did the same, but could still only meet Bill-D’s shoulder. They watched at the corners of their eyes both the cop car and the approaching figure, the latter seeming like the biggest threat considering the cop was oblivious to the situation.

“Yo dog, this our terf, keep walkin’!” Killa declared, but the figure, who revealed to be a white boy no older than 25, flipped his hood back and flashed a threatening look of disdain that provoked the two.

“Yo, what the funk’s that look for?!” Bill-D snapped, lunging at the stranger with a side-swipe to the side of his head. The hooded man took the blow and staggered to the side, steering his way away only to fall onto his palms that shot out to save his head from planting into the pavement.

“jabroni, you picked the wrong fuckin’ fight!” Killa approached him, cracking his knuckles as he backed away to see that the cop from the car was already running across the street with his gun drawn.

“Alright, that’s enough! Break it up!”

“sheet, D, let’s move, this was a bust!” Killa began running before seeing Bill-D was already gone within the trees, “Hey yo, D, wait up, man! You know I ain’t a runner!”

“Why y’all runnin’?” A surprisingly calm voice was heard behind Killa as he struggled to look around. At first he thought it was the cop, but why would a cop speak to a guy like him like a friend? He turned, seeing the stranger holding a knife up against the cop’s neck through the top of his cranium. With one hard pull, the knife pulled out with a quick, murky grind as the cop fell to the ground like a gagging ragdoll and painted the ground red around his dying corpse.

“...what the funk…” Killa stood frozen with eyes wide as gold balls as the stranger pulled out a little towel from his drooping sweatshirt pocket to wipe the blade clean.

“You said you needed a new piece, am I right?” he turned to make eye contact with Killa, who couldn’t move. The stranger sheathed the blade into his pants which held a sheath inside it along his right thigh as he pulled out a rubber glove, snapped it on his right hand, and bent over to pull the gun out from the cop’s grip. Using the same towel, he wiped it clean of any blood and held it out to Killa from the barrel, “You specifically asked for a cop’s gun, if I remember correctly. Now you buyin’ or what? Make it quick, I can’t stay out here much longer.”

Killa was shaking, but he tried his best to look collected as he approached him with one hand reaching into his pants pocket, “Yeah man, we straight. I got the money right here.” he pulled out a wad of cash and reached out for the exchange. The stranger strutted forward to snatch it, using his thumb from the same hand to flutter through it.

“This all of it? Cause if it ain’t-”

“jabroni, you dealers are all the same!” Killa snatched the gun with frustration, “Why can’t you trust us buyers for once?”

“First of all, I ain’t just any dealer.” The stranger pocketed the cash, “Second of all, you really expect me to trust the likes of you? Hell, I’d like to see one customer pay for my services with money they earned from a fuckin’ job.”

“Man, shut the funk up, who even are you?!”

“To you, I am Smith, and only Smith. Now don’t you go describing me to your brothas, cause they’ll know who I am, and they’ll know you aren’t a real gangster for snitching on their best source. There’s Bill-D, he’s waiting for you.” Smith pointed past Killa’s shoulder.

“Ah man, I thought you was gone, man, I was getting wor- the funk!?” Killa turned around but did not see Bill-D, swiftly turning back around only to see that Smith had vanished.]

[Tinkerer]

Hmm. Well, I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while... In any case, I'm gonna use this post as a placeholder to jot this idea first before writing it down properly.

 

[spoiler Brainstorming]-Yorick Lastname, the last descendant of a family of Necroseers.

-He can see and read "Books of Death"

-Books of Death are tomes that appear where a person is buried. They contain the thoughts and feelings of others towards the deceased person. That said, as people forget/die themselves, the Books of Death grow shorter and shorter until they are gone.

-Yorick uses his ability to read these Books in order to pinpoint those who murdered the deceased person. As such, he became/is a private investigator that has the unusual problem of knowing who committed the murder almost immediately, but needing to find evidence for any charges or arrests to be made.

 

[Thar]

How convenient. My novel I'm writing is sort of about this. Nobody's read it yet, so feedback would be nice.

[spoiler=The Prologue (651 Words)]

A woman in a bright red suit fizzled in and out of view on the flat screen TV. She paced across a bright white room, her mouth moving as if she were speaking, her hands moving as if she were showing the viewer something. Watching this screen were 20 cloaked figures, each with a pair of headphones over their ears. "… And since the event, our so called saviours haven't done a thing except ramble about how peace will come in due time. So we really must ask; are they really going to help us? Tune in tonight at 7 for our interview with the famous religious figurehead…" One of the cloaked men stood up from his seat, grabbing his headphones and tossing them across the room, only to be caught by a small woman, one of his servants.

"They're still going on about how we're the bad guys? Even after we saved them from certain extermination?! What about that tyrannical pope who swears to bring us down? We SAVED him! As well as all of his damn followers!" The screen faded out from the news reporter, revealing an image of the sun and a large metallic ball circling around it, with the words “same place, same time, new Earth” splashed across the bottom of the screen.

 

 

Location: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Time: 1:00 pm, May 3^rd, 2036

 

A man sat alone in an almost empty room. The dark brown walls retained the same musty stench they had from before the place was abandoned, and his wooden chair creaked just as the floorboards did. A panel of a pinboard on the wall was its only other inhabitant. Staring at the intricate system of strings all over the panel, the man sighed. “Anything new, Silhouette?” He then turned his head to the corner of the room furthest from him, where an exotic feminine voice spoke out.

“Of course. Why do you always doubt me, Paul?”

“Just making sure.” The man replied. “And that’s Kage to you.” He turned back to the pinboard, emotionless.

“King Charles and Bill Gates have had lunch together two days in a row in a restaurant in Miami. The place’s surveillance cameras haven’t picked up any shady deals, though there’s definitely something going on.” The shadowy figure steeped out of the darkness, revealing the woman, a 30 year old with light grey hair in a silky black outfit. “The agency wants you there by tomorrow morning. Gates is your new target.” A deep masculine chuckle filled the room, and Paul stood up, stretching his arms far above his head before moving. Standing toe to toe with his comrade, he responded:

“So what you’re telling me, is to fly to America, kill one of the most important billionaires in the world, hide his body and remove all evidence of us even having anything to do with him, all by tomorrow night?” Silhouette winced. “Then consider it done.” He finished, before opening a pale cream door next to the woman, and leaving.

 

Leaving the single-room building he called a house, Paul looked upwards and squinted. 7 years prior this would have been due to the sun, but now the bright light was just that – a gigantic light bulb on the inside of the metal ball now encompassing Earth. “Why the hell am I doing this?” Paul asked to himself. The one thing he didn’t expect to get was a reply, but a cold voice gave one anyway.

“Because they took us in. They gave us what we have and we have to pay them back with loyalty.” Silhouette stood behind him, a distant expression painted on her face. Both assassins knew they could leave at any time, but never had, to keep each other safe. That was the excuse they used, anyway. With another heavy sigh, Agent Kage began to walk, not paying any attention to the woman behind him.

 

While I'm not exactly the best at giving feedback, considering I posted a piece of writing myself, I'll do what I can.

 

From what I read, three things come to mind: short, quick, and confusing. The short and quick vibe this has isn't really an issue, but it's the confusing factor that makes me wish it was more... stretched out. There's hardly any detail here that provides context to the plot, let alone an intro for it. What is this organization that claims to have "saved" whoever they saved from "extermination?" Extermination from what? Who are they saving for what reason? Naturally an intro is supposed to have people asking questions, but if all they're asking is "what the hell is going on?!" then they tend to lose interest rather quickly.

 

That being said, we'll go back to the short and quick vibe: the writing in this seems rather rushed. I give you props for that, though, cause I've always had the issue of deleting entire pages where I've spent little time on details and dialogue and just got straight to the point. While a writer may just want to get a story done and out of the way, it's the details that make writing its own work of art. With the right use of words and structure of writing, a paragraph can describe a still image better than even the most realistic painting, but when it comes to readers being interested, that's where context comes into play. What is this structure? How did it get here? What's its purpose in the past, present, and future? A setting tells a story of its own. Hell, it may even help you come up with ideas to continue the plot with the right thought process.

 

Hopefully that made sense. If anyone else plans to post their stories, I'll check them out.

[The Warden]

I haven't been saying anything since I haven't been added to the list yet.

[JessicaMuddy]

While I'm not exactly the best at giving feedback, considering I posted a piece of writing myself, I'll do what I can.

 

From what I read, three things come to mind: short, quick, and confusing. The short and quick vibe this has isn't really an issue, but it's the confusing factor that makes me wish it was more... stretched out. There's hardly any detail here that provides context to the plot, let alone an intro for it. What is this organization that claims to have "saved" whoever they saved from "extermination?" Extermination from what? Who are they saving for what reason? Naturally an intro is supposed to have people asking questions, but if all they're asking is "what the hell is going on?!" then they tend to lose interest rather quickly.

 

That being said, we'll go back to the short and quick vibe: the writing in this seems rather rushed. I give you props for that, though, cause I've always had the issue of deleting entire pages where I've spent little time on details and dialogue and just got straight to the point. While a writer may just want to get a story done and out of the way, it's the details that make writing its own work of art. With the right use of words and structure of writing, a paragraph can describe a still image better than even the most realistic painting, but when it comes to readers being interested, that's where context comes into play. What is this structure? How did it get here? What's its purpose in the past, present, and future? A setting tells a story of its own. Hell, it may even help you come up with ideas to continue the plot with the right thought process.

 

Hopefully that made sense. If anyone else plans to post their stories, I'll check them out.

Thanks for the feedback! The whole "confusing" thing shouldn't be too big of an issue, since Chapter 1 will touch on that, and being the start of the story, it should be alright. It may seem rushed, only because:

a) I'm not amazing at describing things, just what's there and what they're like.

b) It's only the length of 1 page, and it's a prologue. Prologues aen't meant to be long, and Chapter 1 will be.

 

Still, thank you for the info, and I may expand on the prologue later if I keep getting the same response.

[JessicaMuddy]

Alright, I'm gonna post what I wrote so far. Fair warning, there's a lot of language and racial slurs, so keep an open mind.

 

[spoiler=1520 words]There were two black men, one being a foot taller than the other. The tallest one stood a towering six-foot seven with the proportional build of a fighter at average height. His beard appeared cleanly cut from a distance, but the smaller man could see bristles popping out, cringing at the sight.

“What you lookin’ at, nigglet?” the taller man’s voice was deep and ragged like puberty hit him twice in the throat.

“What am I lookin’ at?! Man, I’m lookin’ at the chin of a scraggly ass mothafucka! ...and what you callin’ ‘nigglet’? jabroni I’m older than your punk ass!”

“You know why they call you Yungkatz, right?”

“That name don’t mean sheet, you know I’m Olkilla, foo!” Olkilla, so named by his own mouth, paced the broken pavement that laid in front of the building whose structure screamed ‘abandoned.’ He kept sighing in impatience, looking at the Rolex watch that he snagged off a stubborn seller in the projects. He remembered it as if it all happened a tick of the clock’s face earlier, except at the time there was blood on it.

“Yeah well don’t forget why they call me Bildyung, cause I’m young and I’m built and I can drop kick you off that damn building after carrying your nigglet ass up with one hand.” Bildyung, also named by Olkilla’s mouth, stood tall with his arms crossed hard enough that if anyone had them wrapped around them, their bones would shatter. He watched Olkilla with rolling eyes.

“Man, I just wonder when the hell this mothafucka’s gonna get here. He said he’d get us some good pieces. sheet, he gon’ give us fuckin’ cop guns, jabroni.”

“Well, if you hadn’t have fuckin’ dropped the one you had, we wouldn’t have to stand here and look suspicious.”

“jabroni, shut the funk up!” Olkilla approached Bildyung as if to intimidate him, but the taller man didn’t budge, let alone flinch, “I’m tired of you gettin’ on my sheet, we might as well call you Shitfly.”

“Then I might as well call you Chihuahua, cause I’d be gettin’ on yo little dogs’ sheet in the backyard!” Bildyung burst into a hearty, wheezy laugh as Olkilla pushed him a couple inches back. Olkilla began to shoot back a comment in retaliation before he turned to see a cop car pulling up on the other side of the street.

“sheet!” he wanted to shout but immediately pulled into a whisper, “...sheet, BD, it’s the cops.”

“Who the hell’s BD?”

“You, jabroni! BD is yo initials, man.”

“Oh okay, so does that make you OK?” another hearty but quiet laugh erupted from BD’s throat, but OK did nothing to respond as his eyes were locked on the officer through the driver’s window.

“Looks like he’s just stoppin’ for a coffee break… who the hell drinks coffee this late in the afternoon?”

“I can name a few people-”

“jabroni, no one gives a sheet what you think!” another spurt of shouting was immediately muffled with effort, “...just stay calm, look like you just chillin’ on public property, no one owns this piece of sheet anymore.”

“Okay, OK.”

“...I fuckin’ hate those initials, just call me Killa.” he laughed in delight at the idea, “Nah in fact, call me OG Killa! Yeah, I like that.”

“Fine, then I’m OG Bill-D, cause initials sound stupid now.”

“Man, funk you! I bet that cop’s the one sellin’ us his gun just so I can clip yo scraggly-ass mouth!” Killa shook and rolled his shoulders, pausing for a moment to look at the man coming out from the blind curve that was covered by leafless trees of the snowless winter. The man was slouched over, walking with a petite body swinging like it was made of rubber but sturdy enough to not look like a clown. His hood was up and his hands were in his pockets as he looked both ways every ten seconds as if he was crossing the street.

“Man, look at this mothafucka…” Killa pointed at the approaching figure with a pitiful smirk, “This sucka look like he representin’ this shithole, look at ‘im!”

“I’m lookin’ at him, but I ain’t seein’ no colors.” Bill-D squinted as he leaned forward to try and get a better view, “Is he the guy we meetin’?”

“Man, funk no!” Killa backed away as if in retaliation of personal offense, “this midget-ass sucka? What he gonna sell us, BB guns?” he slapped his knee with a few syllables of forced laughter.

“Whoever he is, he look like he comin’ this way.”

“Look tough, D, but not too tough. Remember, there’s a cop right there.” Without pointing or looking in its direction, Bill-D knew what Killa was mentioning as he stood up and crossed his arms again. Killa did the same, but could still only meet Bill-D’s shoulder. They watched at the corners of their eyes both the cop car and the approaching figure, the latter seeming like the biggest threat considering the cop was oblivious to the situation.

“Yo dog, this our terf, keep walkin’!” Killa declared, but the figure, who revealed to be a white boy no older than 25, flipped his hood back and flashed a threatening look of disdain that provoked the two.

“Yo, what the funk’s that look for?!” Bill-D snapped, lunging at the stranger with a side-swipe to the side of his head. The hooded man took the blow and staggered to the side, steering his way away only to fall onto his palms that shot out to save his head from planting into the pavement.

“jabroni, you picked the wrong fuckin’ fight!” Killa approached him, cracking his knuckles as he backed away to see that the cop from the car was already running across the street with his gun drawn.

“Alright, that’s enough! Break it up!”

“sheet, D, let’s move, this was a bust!” Killa began running before seeing Bill-D was already gone within the trees, “Hey yo, D, wait up, man! You know I ain’t a runner!”

“Why y’all runnin’?” A surprisingly calm voice was heard behind Killa as he struggled to look around. At first he thought it was the cop, but why would a cop speak to a guy like him like a friend? He turned, seeing the stranger holding a knife up against the cop’s neck through the top of his cranium. With one hard pull, the knife pulled out with a quick, murky grind as the cop fell to the ground like a gagging ragdoll and painted the ground red around his dying corpse.

“...what the funk…” Killa stood frozen with eyes wide as gold balls as the stranger pulled out a little towel from his drooping sweatshirt pocket to wipe the blade clean.

“You said you needed a new piece, am I right?” he turned to make eye contact with Killa, who couldn’t move. The stranger sheathed the blade into his pants which held a sheath inside it along his right thigh as he pulled out a rubber glove, snapped it on his right hand, and bent over to pull the gun out from the cop’s grip. Using the same towel, he wiped it clean of any blood and held it out to Killa from the barrel, “You specifically asked for a cop’s gun, if I remember correctly. Now you buyin’ or what? Make it quick, I can’t stay out here much longer.”

Killa was shaking, but he tried his best to look collected as he approached him with one hand reaching into his pants pocket, “Yeah man, we straight. I got the money right here.” he pulled out a wad of cash and reached out for the exchange. The stranger strutted forward to snatch it, using his thumb from the same hand to flutter through it.

“This all of it? Cause if it ain’t-”

“jabroni, you dealers are all the same!” Killa snatched the gun with frustration, “Why can’t you trust us buyers for once?”

“First of all, I ain’t just any dealer.” The stranger pocketed the cash, “Second of all, you really expect me to trust the likes of you? Hell, I’d like to see one customer pay for my services with money they earned from a fuckin’ job.”

“Man, shut the funk up, who even are you?!”

“To you, I am Smith, and only Smith. Now don’t you go describing me to your brothas, cause they’ll know who I am, and they’ll know you aren’t a real gangster for snitching on their best source. There’s Bill-D, he’s waiting for you.” Smith pointed past Killa’s shoulder.

“Ah man, I thought you was gone, man, I was getting wor- the funk!?” Killa turned around but did not see Bill-D, swiftly turning back around only to see that Smith had vanished.]

This was certainly an interesting read, and not one I'd except myself to pick up. The one gripe I have with it is the name-calling. Not only do none of the characters have actual names, but the two main characters have about 3 each. People could easily get confused very quickly since the chancing is so sudden, though I don't think it's that bad. Also, is Smith a ninja? 'Cause running away that fast is certainly mysterious in a realistic setting.

 

That being said, I'm not sure I actually found this entertaining. That may be because of the genre, but there wasn't much that made me want to go "Wow, I want to see what shenanigans this stereotypical big guy/small guy duo get up to!". There needs to be a factor in the story at some point that makes the read really get into it, and the earlier, the better.

[Thar]

This was certainly an interesting read, and not one I'd except myself to pick up. The one gripe I have with it is the name-calling. Not only do none of the characters have actual names, but the two main characters have about 3 each. People could easily get confused very quickly since the chancing is so sudden, though I don't think it's that bad. Also, is Smith a ninja? 'Cause running away that fast is certainly mysterious in a realistic setting.

 

That being said, I'm not sure I actually found this entertaining. That may be because of the genre, but there wasn't much that made me want to go "Wow, I want to see what shenanigans this stereotypical big guy/small guy duo get up to!". There needs to be a factor in the story at some point that makes the read really get into it, and the earlier, the better.

 

I can understand why it wasn't the most entertaining read cause, let's face it, I'm not exactly the long-term type when it comes to writing. Whenever I start stuff that's supposed to be an entire novel, it's always difficult to get people interested without revealing everything.

 

But I will say that, while people often say you need to be hooked into the story at the very beginning to want to read more, for me it's less about getting hooked and more about just seeing how characters react and how the world around them is influenced. Granted I'm not the most motivated reader, plot has never been my kind of leeway into a story as much as the characters and the world are, which is why dialogue is one of my favorite things to write. As far as the whole "lots of names" thing, that was just me imagining two brothers-from-other-mothers messing with each other, and I tend to get lost in it without thinking about how confusing it might be to someone who doesn't know anything about them.

 

Also, Smith is not a ninja, admittedly. The way I see it, he just ran behind the abandoned building and chuckled, which would've been a lot better to mention.

[Enguin Enguin Enguin Enguin]

Despite leaving it almost a month I've decided I may as well join this, don't know if I'll ever post in here again but I probably will. If I don't then ye can always look back on this post with fondness and wonder "where is he now?".

 

Username: Enguin

What you want to be called: niugnE

What are your primary interests in writing: Bringing banter to all, and to all a goodnight.

Why do you like most about creative writing: The ability to write absolutely whatever the fuck I want and it doesn't have to make the slightest bit of sense because I can just say it's art and its meaning is lost on you, turning the whole thing completely on its head and making you look like the idiot.

results may vary chances of this method working are actually near 0% terms and conditions apply always read the label

[Fusion X. Denver]

I should join this.

 

Username: Synchro Y. Colorado
What you want to be called: Whatever works
What are your primary interests in writing: Entertaining people. I want to write stories that will make people glad they read them.
What do you like most about creative writing: The stories! Storytelling is one of my favorite things in general; it's always interesting to see what other people can think of. 

[Makο]

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1wAQK2M8pR8Cs6GB0zNxnm0yeMVNs4A5THVno11QqYPE/edit?usp=sharing

 

901 words

 

what the heck is this

 

gonna help cnc some others later when I'm not dead tired