We write what we want
Posted 02 December 2009 - 05:23 AM
I'll start with the beginning of a new short(ish) story;
I first encountered The Dreamhouse 30 years ago. It was a foul place even in those times, tucked away in a corner of London where it would be well hidden. Back then the market for experimental treatment of psychological condition was booming, any crackpot with a degree and a briefcase could secure funding. One of these crackpots was Dr. Hamlett, an ageing and frail old man. What he lacked in physical strength though he made up for with a fiendish and unchecked desire for chaos. I was an eager student, very much a subscriber to the ideas of alternative treatment and Dr. Hamlett's work at the time caught my attention, one paper in particular entitled 'LSD, the key to the mind', convinced me to seek the good Doctor out. Looking back I believe it was a combination of over self importance and youthful recklessness that landed me at Hamlett's side and all to willing to buy into his methods. Our experimentations began as a follow up to the aforementioned paper. Patients with various psychological disturbances were administered up to 100 micrograms of LSD an hour before each 'session'. We would engage the patients in a number of subjects and ask a variety of questions. There was nothing conventional about our treatment methods and our successes were sporadic. Deep down I knew that there was a dark side to our work and an even darker side to the good Doctor.
Patient 412, interview transcript
“Session 1 with patient 412. Patient suffers from serious depression and was recommended for the program following a failed suicide attempt. Present are the patient and Doctor Hamlett.”
“What Is it you see?”
“The infinite. I mean, ya know, I can't really see it but it's there. It's very clear.”
“Where does it end?”
“It doesn't, like all things it goes full circle. Like a dog chasing it's own tail but when it catches it it envelops itself...Am I mad Doctor?”
“Not at all. Close your eyes. What do you see?”
“It's dark. Cold. The lights are fading.”
“Are you scared?”
“I'm happy. There's a door, an escape.”
“Open your eyes again.”
“Where are we?”
“Look around you, what do you see?”
“I see the table. Wood. It has the look of death. That tree was once alive, it had a soul. Not like you or I but it was alive. Imbued with a life force. Now it's here. Cold. Lifeless. It has no beauty here, it serves an incidental purpose. We could live without such things. We could build them from stone but we don't. We take our axes and we set about undoing the very world that holds us. We assign no value to this planet.”
“Does that upset you?
“I'm powerless against it. I can't do anything other than stand by and watch. It isn't right.”
“What would you do about it if you could?”
“I don't know. I don't think anything can be done.”
“Then why does your not being able to change it upset you so?”
“Are you really? You said yourself nothing can be done.”
“I...I just wish....things were different.”
“In what way?”
“There should be a greater connection, a higher form of communication between us all. Words and actions are slow, we need understanding and telepathy. We should just know what is right.”
“Because how else are we to fulfil out purpose? We're in the midst of some terrible game, that's what this life is. It's like Shakespeare said, about the world being a stage. We're just going through the motions, all of them, no matter how small or insignificant, connected leading to some divine finale.”
“What do you think that may be?”
“It will be the end. Nothing less. Nothing more.”
Posted 02 December 2009 - 07:47 AM
Posted 02 December 2009 - 04:08 PM
Posted 02 December 2009 - 06:02 PM
I turn past the corner store, and run into my boss. Sorry fuckstick, can’t chat. After not picking up all the shit he’s dropped, I cross the road and run along the street towards the train station. The only person in the world who I could talk to about this lives there. About a kilometer away, now. Gotta keep running. Gotta keep my fat ass on the move. I’m sweating like fuck and I can smell piss and shit. I haven’t showered in about 8 days. The front of my boxer shorts is getting caught under my sticky foreskin. While attempting to fix this, I trip over my own feet and slam my head into a street sign. I hit the ground with an almighty slam and feel blood trickling down my face.
My father was a good man. I was born when he was 17, my mother died giving birth to me. He brought me up on his own, working two shitty jobs so I wouldn’t die of starvation. Then he won the lottery. Our problems were solved. No longer did I suffer 3 days without a decent meal. I got fat, but it was better than being dead.
Posted 07 December 2009 - 06:46 PM
Well, this thing certainly isn't burlap. At least they spare no expense in their head bags. But it feels like they went with the rope Hartlepool used to hang the monkey. I feel your pain little man. Even if they do untie my arms they're going to be to busy scratching each other to be of any use. I sure am interested in what they want from me though, because I don't have a fucking clue what I could tell them, or even what I could know that someone would be so interested in to kidnap me. I'm not a big fan of insider knowledge, I find it makes people dislike me. The thing I'm most excited about though, is how exactly I'm going to get out of this. I mean, I have to. Don't I? I am the hero after all. I always saw myself as a roguish character, the kind of guy nobody likes when they first meet, but grow to love. Although come to think of it, I've only ever got one person to the love stage, then they kinda reset back to the hate stage. Like they say, life goes in cycles. If that's true I better make mental notes so that I can handle this situation better next time it happens.
Edited by Choked, 07 December 2009 - 07:38 PM.
Posted 07 December 2009 - 07:55 PM
Assassins Creed: Teh Cread of the Assassins
One day Altair was sittin in the castle righting on sum paper. He rote all about how he was teh new matser assassain and thought “maybe in the future my ancestor will read dis on a memory computer”. How write he was, because 100 years in the future in 2012 Desmund was walkin around the laboratoratory thinking “its a good day to do what has to be done by me and help lucy to defeat vidic and stop the templers ones and for all!” But how was Dosmond going to exscape? He thought “I will use the anrimuss to find the answers to my questions and phoil my enemys plans” so he went. He sat down on the bed and pressed butons and thought “its action time” he ws plugged into his ancestors dna.
altare was in his office lookin in his filing cabnets “wow al mualim wasnt much for paperwork!” he thought funnily to himself. he saw his fried malick workin at a table nearby so altear went over and said “malik what are you working on” “i have discovered new templar atrifact but it is so powerful that it can travel in time so we must observe with hasty”. Juts then Robert de Sable came crashing through the wall with a million templars OH NO WHERE DID ROBERT COME FROM? “But ur dead!” exscreamed Altar but Robart said “I was but now I’m not and I’m back to make you face your consequences!” and the knights started to destroy the building and the carpets. Altair said “not on my watch” and made the sword and swung it mad and angry at enemies. He counterkilled all of the bosses but robart laughed and said “im dead and have lots of powers now so observe my intensity!” and all the templars turned into zombines. Altair pressed all the buttons on the 360 controller but it did nothing “zombie templers leaf this place!” he said but they said “wooooooooooo” and made ghost moves and shot ectoplasem at his. “ALPEAR” shouted the templar grandmatser and altair said “ok wat” and he turned around juts in time to see robart set off a nuculer bomb. He turned around and said to malik “malick what must we do in a crisis” but he was already blowed to smitheroons. Altair shouted NO and piked up the templer time thing and through it into the nuclear blast.
“giant greats!” shouted desmund as he saw the memory video. All of a sudden the animus explodsion and altair flew out of the machine. “oh my god whats going on” said demonsd and altair looked at him and said “rock on”. Altair grabbed des and did a lep of faithf out of the sunnyshining window into a pile of hey. They jumped on a horse and altear said “where is vidic going” and dsmund sed “i dont no” and altair said “its time to end this ones and for all” and they rode quickly to where vidic was buyt not too quicklyer cos they didnt want to fight guards.
Vidic was walking through his chamber thinking “hahahaha i am evil genius” but lucy said “no ur not” so he shot her in the hed. “NO you backsterd!” shouted Desmond and vidic laughed. “too late mister miles!” he said and he launched the rocket missles. “no those are heading straigfht for Washington!” said altair “we must protect the president!” said desmond cos president was his fathser. “I don’t think so! Your barking up the wrong bush mr miles!” shouted vidic and he picked up a minigun and fired fast at where desmund was standing. “lets dubble team” said altear as he leapt 1000 feet into the sky and assassinated the missles with his hidden blade. Desmond ran along the walls and did a back flip and landed on vidics face. “but u werk for me!” said vidic and desmond said “I quit” and punched vidic in the face and shot him lots in the face too.
“thanks I could help bro” said altair and desmond said “u shud come here earlier next time” and they laughed. The laughed overed quickly though because altair shouted LOOK OUT BRO cos vidic was alive! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH he shouted and piked up the rocket launcher and fired it at desmund. Altair counterkilled the missile but it blewed up in his face and exploded him. “ill get u back vidic!” desmind called and he run away. “Not so fast mr miles” said a strange sound.
TO BE CONTINUED?
Posted 11 December 2009 - 09:12 AM
Posted 11 December 2009 - 04:42 PM
After the massacre, the zombies gathered in the town center. They started growling and murmuring in decrepit wits.
After 2 hours of randomness, a portal appeared from the air, and out of him, jumped 2 men: Clerk "Chelsea" Cross, the black hooded assassin, and Jackson "Lap'lash" Scarru, the white chained Templar.
Chelsea, with his hidden blades, jumped straight on 2 zombie juggernauts, while Lap'lash grabbed a big black metal mace and started pounding zombies into dust. Their power was so enormous, their aura combined and released a big wave of radioactive material into the air, making the zombies to fall and start the "ultra-decay" process, where their skull became... SKULLS FULL OF MAGGOTS.
Then Lap'lash and Chelsea sat, got 2 beers from a bartender, and started chatting about their next mission.
"If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever."
Posted 12 December 2009 - 02:16 AM
I couldn't be possible.
24 and then a teamkill.
Posted 12 December 2009 - 12:53 PM
Super Mario 18+? Fuck yeaaaaaaah.
After I have finished with the story I am planning to embark on something new 'writing wise'. Last night I had an awesome idea to write about Mario and all his friends (Luigi, Toad, Bowser, Peach, Pickles) in a more serious way involving lots of murdering and a general 18+ feel. I don't know if it will go ahead, but it sounds cool to me.
At least my death wish will come true
You taste like Valentine's
Posted 13 December 2009 - 10:09 PM
Tony sat in a cold sweat staring ahead of him
I couldn't be possible.
24 and then a teamkill.
Posted 28 December 2009 - 05:44 AM
THE RONALD SET UP just another 47 assignment history
47 was in a hotel laying low from his last assignment, then he got a new briefing from Diana on his computer,
-hello 47 you next assignment is a very unusual one or client made very specif requests ,but has agreed to pay the triple of you normal fee
-,here are the details you are to kidnap a Internet geek
the home of the target has no know security expect from a few cameras on the front entrance we suggest that you make the move in his house at night wen the movement of people in his neighborhood will minimal to none and the target will probably bi in his computer ,the tickets to the target `s location will be send to you next morning via the mail ,47 this is very important the client has said that you are not to harm the target in anyway until hi is delivered to the location ,
good luck 47 the money has be transferred to you account
on a rainy night at about 3.pm 47 arrives in front of fashion is home he observes the windows of the house next to ah lightpost from his binoculars ,hi sees fashion on the computer laughing about something ,47 quickly climbs ah wall to the back of the home and pick locks the door wen he enters the house he was a very clean view of fashion he sneaks to get closer and grab him form the desk of the computer ,wen he is almost on the side on the chair ,fashion press a button underneath the desk ,47 rushes and grab him ,holding him like a hostage ,47 then hears radio static and several thugs burst in dressed with Ronald MacDonald suits and clown make up armed with silenced m4s a brief gun battle issues and 47 kills all of the thugs ,he then tr-owns fashion on ah wall and asks how set him up ,fashion stays silent 47 the delivers a bullet right in his knee cap ,as his start s crying of pain fashion screams it was ronald McDonald that bastard he paid me to set you up,ahhh
47 makes a very dramatic expression at this point and says ` now its personal clown` . end of part 1
i know this is a bunch of crap :good: and probably the worst history written on this forum
Edited by CODENAME_17, 28 December 2009 - 03:09 PM.
Posted 06 January 2010 - 01:27 PM
-Diana this is 47 the mission was a set up again...
i was ambushed by several thugs dressed in clown suits ,fashion here tells me how arranged the set up was Ronald MacDonald's himself ......
-47 its not ....possible Ronald was one of the founding figures of the agency he has by part of or directors board for several years now 'and has overseer several missions of yours please 47 be 100% sure before you take any action ....
-understood Diana I'm gonna finding what is going on and then proceeded to the pick up point as usual ..
one last thing Diana .
has the money be transferred to my account?
seeing the glowing neon of the MacDonald's sing form afar 47 parks the car on the back parking lot , checking his weapons 2 silverballers with silencers
he checks on fashion seeing him past out from the loss of blood but he is still alive 47 walks in on MacDonald's only 6 people are on the place at that time but 47 knows Ronald is on the back, room waiting for fashion to bring the news of the death of the legendary 47 ,..........................
47 calmy walks to the balcony and asks for a happy meal and a large diet soda ,-that wold be 17.49$ sir speaks the clerk 47 pays and sits on a table waiting for the people to go away ...several minutes pass , 47 sees one of the employers walking with a garbage bag ..47 walks out of the place to the back and strangulate the employer has he was about to throw the garbage bag on a dumpster after a few seconds of struggle the cold dead body of the employer falls to the ground 47 mutes to himself ,no mercy for the followers of the clown .... ..he thinks ah fuck this!!! ,47 rushes to the entrance pulls out the silverballers and in a few seconds the whole place is covered in blood and dead bodies he turn off the lights and walks to the backroom then..he enters the door directly to the officer of Ronald a clapping figure comes out of the shadows ,saying ah 47 i was expecting you... but before Ronald can say another word 47 puts a bullet in his head .he pick ups the body and throws it on a meat grinder ,finally before leaving the place he plants a ru-AP mine on the cooking oil tanks ,starting the car 47 waits a few seconds and detonates the mine , boom!
Posted 22 February 2010 - 03:21 AM
For a black male in his early 30s he wasn't really that concerned with daily exercise, the jog up the campus steps would be a challenge even for Rocky Balboa. At the top he saw some younger men playing with a glow in the dark Frisbee, they were obviously high judging by how none of them could catch and they kept giggling because of it. Ignoring them he broke into a full run, the library straight ahead, he had much more important things to stop. Sure enough Hector Angelo was outside of the now closed library arguing with a blond female in her early 20s. The description he got from his contact, Hector shoved the girl away and cursed something in Spanish. The shove represented something much more serious than a lovers scrabble. Clark was certain these were the suspects.
"Hector!?" He brought up his sub compact forty caliber handgun and assumed the weaver stance.
Hector Angelo was a large man, a mass of what looked to be a combination of fat and muscle but not in an obese fashion. His neck was large and his hands were just as big. Rumor had it that he was a boxer back in Mexico, made sense considering his build. His hands looked big enough to easily strangle anyone within a couple of minutes, if not sooner. As for his other unnamed suspect she had the look of cornered animal. Clark figured she was involved, he could tell by her dark clothing and slightly spiked hair that she may have had problems. Hector put up his as he got closer to the couple, on nearer inspection he noticed marks on her arms. Hector was in his mid 20s but a hard early like made him look twice his age. He was, to put it simply, a very intimidating looking man. All of Clark's focus was on him as he looked to be bigger threat, however this turned out not to be the case. The woman pulled a small revolver from inside her jacket and shot Hector three times in the back, at near point blank range, before turning the gun at the closed library and firing three more times to shatter one of the front windows. As the glass shattered she leaped over the wall into the building. Hector dropped straight to the ground landing hard on his front.
Unflinching Clark ignored the sudden death of who he thought was suspect number one. He raced to the newly shattered window reaching into his pocket instinctively for his small LED light. Another shot rang out from inside the building down below. He pinpointed the muzzle flash and fired three shots back ducking behind the low wall. He heard panting coming from inside the quiet, dark, lobby of the post modern designed building. She was making a run for it, without a second thought to his safety he leaped the wall and made his way down the stairs to the main reading area. He crossed his writs, LED in his left hand, pistol in his right. He rushed down the center aisle of books toward the back hoping to catch. He did.... with a knife to his lower right side as he came to a break in the columns. She pulled out, what he assumed, was the weapon used in some of the murders. She pulled out and stabbed him again this time harder and higher in his lower rib section. Blood gushed as he fell to the floor, thinking the knife was now unnecessary she dropped it to the floor next to him. Standing over him she aimed her Smith and Wesson revolver, pulled the trigger, but unsurprisingly the seven shot revolver was empty. She tossed it aside and reached down to try and grab Clark's weapon. He raised and fired, the round missing passing under her right arm.
She grabbed onto the gun with both hands, Clark was not letting go. Sensing her inexperience with firearms he dropped the magazine out during the struggle. Unfortunately she must have seen enough modern movies to know there was always one more in the chamber. He was loosing strength as she started slowly pushing the gun toward his head. "FUCK YOU!!..." He shouted desperately trying to pull the strength together, consciousness fading. She reached for light wood handled hunting, she figured she would make him her last victim in her ritual fashion. As she reached within arms length to get her preferred weapon, her one hand struggle gave him just the opportunity he needed for getting the upper hand. He quickly turned the gun back on her and fired, the bullet passed from the left side of her face out through her right side cheek. Shocked, she grabbed her revolver and gripped her knife tightly as she ran toward the back of the library again. He lay back and took a sigh of relief smiling. He struggled to reload the magazine back into the Springfield, he had five shots left. He slammed the gun into the floor to load the mag and released the slide lock in one swift motion. He stumbled to his feet and walked as fast as he could muster.
Outside the woman occasionally stopped to spit out blood, she shouted in pain, mainly angry that she let herself get shot. She made her way into the courtyard as Clark made his through the outdoor cafe that was at the back of the building. "Hold it!" Was that needed to be said to make the woman turn 180 degrees and fire from 30 feet away. Clark flipped one of the near by round metal tables. He half blind fired a shot back before she fired twice more, the .38 rounds whizzing close by. He took aim and fired one of his own hitting her in the left lung from behind when she tried to run again. Clutching his side he rushed over to her, sirens were heard up the street a police chopper was over head. She collapsed, breathing heavily with long wispy gasps, into an Indian style seating on the cool June grass. She stared at her lap watching the blood from her face trickle down her shirt. When he got close Clark dropped to his knees, then to all fours, weak from his wounds. He soon aimed the gun up at the suspect, the thought of all of the crime scene pictures he had to look at, the image of the girls on one metal morgue slab after the other, the families of the victims he had to talk to, all of the lives that were ruined for unknown reasons by this one girl.
"Why?" Was the only thing he could think to say, atear rolling down his cheek slowly getting into the mood to kill her.
“All my life I’ve had to deal with cunts and assholes… whynot? What good would they have done if I hadn’t?” She replied without a senseof remorse in her tone. “My name is Jackie bythe way.”
“I really don’t care.”
“That’s the problem.”
She aimed her gun up at Clark. Before she could lift the tip of the barrel he fired his last three shots rapidly into her upper chest, red mist puffed from the back as she collapsed into herself like a lifeless rag doll. He dropped the now empty gun and fell to his back again. The sirens got closer and stopped, they were nearby on Charles Street just a hundred feet away.
"HERE!" He cried out half laughing, half crying that the case was finally closed. "It's cold this time of year." He said to himself as he slowly closed his eyes and rested his head on the fresh olive green grass.
Posted 11 April 2010 - 07:03 PM
I used to be called Dante. But that was a long time ago. A time when my name was important to me – something that had value. It’s been sold, along with the memories of my wife and daughter. I suspect that they have forgotten it too – perhaps even changed it out of shame. Now I am simply found when I am needed. I was told that I could be needed tonight, and I begged that I would be. It had been thirty-eight hours and forty-three minutes since I saw the love of my life last, and every second I’m away from her brings me closer to insanity.
The truth is I am a compulsive cheat. I shamelessly cheated on my wife; I stole money from work to spend more time with my Mistress, and neglected my daughter, impoverished of a father figure. Insignificant – all of it. Trash. My Love keeps me going, she’s right there with me when I need to work. I need all the support I can get when I’m at work.
I heard Virgil approach some time after eleven at night, with his hand firmly wrapped around my Mistress. I didn’t mind – he wasn’t interested in her anyway. I heard her call my name sweetly, “Dante! It’s been too long”.
“It has!” I thought to myself, “too long indeed”. Virgil saw me rush up to them. He immediately ushered me away from the harsh lights of the park. Somewhere more secluded for us both to greet each other properly.
He looked at me sternly, “You know the deal Dante. I bring you this as payment, and in exchange you do what we tell you. No alterations – just stick to the plan”.
I was at his mercy, agreeing to everything. I wanted her. For too long had I been yo-yoed between reality and my dreams. I needed to escape. I did not belong in the real world – too many responsibilities, too many disappointments. I outstretched my trembling hand for her; I could feel her warm aura already, soothing my jagged nerves and paranoia “Please. Hand her over” I whined.
Virgil gave me a bemused expression, “Jesus, Dante. Her? You’re more fucked up than I thought. Here, take it. Just remember our agreement”.
He handed me what I longed for. And a syringe. I searched the contents of the ruffled paper bag and looked at her. She stared straight into my eyes. My vial beauty. With trembling hands I plunged the cylinder into the miniscule glass ampule and retracted slowly, making sure no air followed her. I didn’t even know her name. A mystery drug that I was introduced to by Virgil’s boss all those years ago. My veins widened in anticipation. Knowing what would follow soon. Puss filled puncture marks all down my arms were the only evidence that she loved me. I liked to think of them as miniature kisses. A sudden realisation of what was missing hit me, “Where’s my elastic!” I violently exploded at Virgil.
He looked at me in disgust, “Just use it without elastic this time! We have a schedule”.
I looked at the syringe again. My anger melted away. The tip looked filthy – Used before, it seemed. I couldn’t be sure whether it was rust or dried blood. Insignificant – all of it. I gently pressed her lips against my skin, she bit me playfully. I slowly released.
Sudden and all consuming Euphoria.
All my problems slipped away from me. All impossibilities unfurled – just like my marriage. Faster than my marriage. With just a taste of her I felt in control, loved, needed. I was ready for work once again. My mistress did always give me the courage to pick up a gun.
Behold, I send you out as sheep amidst the wolves.
Posted 11 April 2010 - 07:15 PM
Posted 11 April 2010 - 07:38 PM
Posted 11 April 2010 - 09:11 PM
Research plays a big part in my writing, so I hated writing about "the twist" without experiencing anything like it personally. So the twist is actually a metaphor for one of my previous relationships haha.
I'm also writing a short story called The Carousel for my major work in Extention English in year 12. If you guys actually like my writing then I'd be happy to put it up for you to read . It's a story from the perspective of a child soldier in The Congo.
Edited by Devil's Advocate, 11 April 2010 - 09:12 PM.
Behold, I send you out as sheep amidst the wolves.
Posted 14 April 2010 - 09:21 PM
now i feel ashamed for writing that piece of shit story mine at the time it sound like a good idea ,i whis i could edited it out ,anyhow my hat is off for you sir good story
I liked it too, but I didn't see the twist early, either.