|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Aug 17, 2005 2:04 pm
Step Out Of Your Reality And Walk Into My Fantasy.Hola. Here I'll be posting parts of my story..and parts of my sideproject. I'm not much of a poet, so..you'll rarely see any poems. Just stories. I used to have a portfolio here on my old account.
Old Portfolio
If you take the time to read through..the two parts in there..you'll get an idea of what I'm posting. I will be putting up parts of that story, edited of course. I won't be posting the whole story. I'm just paranoid like that. It took me a long time to come up with this stuff. So yea. I'm gonna be stingy about showing my work.
Story One: Part One-Page One.
Story One: Part Two-Page One.
Story Two: Part One-Page One.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 17, 2005 2:20 pm
Part One
Storms never lasted anymore than a week on the darker side of the planet. This one storm was stretching past two. He could hear it. The thunder was rolling, booming among the sky. Hail clinked and clanked as it hit the roads, mixing with the hissing acid rain that melted the metal of cars and buildings. But it was the screaming of the people that were unfortunate enough to get caught in the middle of it, that made him smile. They were fools to think that they were safe here.
Behind his own walls of imprisonment, he could feel what the people felt. All the despair, all the loss. Even the boredom. How he wished he could see it. Yet they tormented him by putting thick iron strips over his window, letting only in cracks of light. It kept him from seeing the beautiful ugliness of the outside world. The iron blocked him from them and them from him. He was, according to the judge of the Supreme Court, a criminal. An insane criminal. The thought of being labeled as crazy only made his smile widen.
He�d been in the wrong place, at the wrong time and he�d been locked up in the local criminally insane asylum. They thought they could break him, tame him. Even control him against his will. They were wrong of course. All the prissy-assed nurses in white with their long needles and small pills, along with the cops who visited daily to stare at him with their dead eyes. drone on and on in bored voices, and strut around with their ignorant attitudes. At first they�d thought of him as a threat, then an experiment, and now a joke. He knew he could take the pain, the imprisonment. But he couldn�t take the laughter that echoed among the halls.
He turned his head from the cold of the window at the hollow noise behind him. His face was hidden in shadow but for the green of his eyes that watched the visitor enter through the barred door. His smile grew to a grin as the lights suddenly turned on in the enclosed cell, revealing who was now inside. He shifted, leaning back against the brick wall and crossing his arms over his chest, looking relaxed and superior. Another cop to question his sanity. This one was a regular visitor to his cell.
�Mr. Johnson, how wonderful to see you on this lovely day.�
Mikael Johnson was a well aged cop. He�d just hit forty, had a calm voice, but a short temper. Golden eyes, used mostly for boring into his interrogation subjects, watched him, while the white mustache above Mik�s scowling mouth did nothing but amuse him. The one thing he liked about Mik was that he was truthful. He didn�t try to intimidate you with his bulky form, or try to get you trust him with his great capability to lie. He told you how it was, and that was more then he could say about any other mortal.
Mik said nothing as he pulled up a chair and sat in it so the back pressed against his chest. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, took one out, lit it, and then threw the packet across the room to him. �You know the drill Donovan, so don�t try to charm me with that Irish mouth of yours. It won�t get you anywhere.�
Donovan pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He dragged from it deeply and smiled in appreciation for the toxic even though it wasn�t his usual brand. �It�s not like I�ll be going anywhere as it is anyway, now is it? I�m stuck here, in this cell, with all the other loonies that you people entrap here. That way you won�t have to chase after me when a murder happens, and you can threaten me to your liking.� He leaned his head back against the wall, watching Mik lazily. �So in some odd way old boy, you�ve helped keep me out of the list of suspects.�
Mik blew out smoke, not replying to his comments. �Why�d you kill the DiNovi family Donovan?�
He only sighed and turned his head, pressing his cheek against the cool metal. �You�ve got the wrong man Johnson. Maybe, someday, you�ll realize that.� He smiled faintly, his face once again hidden in shadows as the bright lights flickered once, twice, then died inside his cell. The dim light shining through his window didn�t make it any easier to see.
�You�re insane Donovan. Completely and utterly insane.� Mik stood up slowly, pushing the chair away from him. His hand went slowly to his holster, but there was nothing there to grip. Baffled, he looked down, then back up as Donovan stepped forward, the gun barrel pointed at his head.
�I always wanted to shoot a cop right between the eyes. Sort of empowering, wouldn�t you say? It�s only fair, considering what your kind did to me.� Donovan flicked the cigarette away, leaving it burning on the floor as he took another step forward. �You�re not wondering how I took your gun. And you�re not wondering why I decided to kill you. Because I'm sure you already know. Somehow, I think you know all the answers, all the questions. But you are wondering how the hell little insane Brad Donovan found out your secret.� He smiled. �You�ll know. Because I�m sure the devil will tell you when you join him in Hell. Good-bye Mr. Johnson." With no other word, with no other clue, he pulled the trigger. Not even a flicker of emotion crossed his face.
Mikael Johnson fell to the ground without a sound. Not even so much as a gasp of surprise. He lay there with a small little hole in his head, barely big enough for someone to think that something so trivial could kill him. His eyes were glassy, vacant, like you would see when people enter the state of shock. The lifeless form on the floor was his, never moving again as the blood from all his veins drained to flood the halls of Donovan�s prison. Mikael Johnson, cop of fifteen years, had secrets. Many, many secrets. One of them had been found out, and for that small bit of carelessness, he was dead. But which secret was he murdered for?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 17, 2005 3:12 pm
It's nice to see you back again, I must say. And I like this new edited version much better than the old one.
I only have two things to point out- "answers, al all the questions" I've no clue what that is, and whether it's supposed to be and or not be there at all is up to you. xD And the second thing.. After Donovan says Good-bye Mr. Johnson, you have no quotation marks to end his speech.
I can't wait to see more.
Happy Scribing,
:Nesce.:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 17, 2005 3:52 pm
Nesce It's nice to see you back again, I must say. And I like this new edited version much better than the old one.
I only have two things to point out- "answers, al all the questions" I've no clue what that is, and whether it's supposed to be and or not be there at all is up to you. xD And the second thing.. After Donovan says Good-bye Mr. Johnson, you have no quotation marks to end his speech.
I can't wait to see more.
Happy Scribing,
:Nesce.:
I much prefer this version to the other one, though it's still the same story. Yay!
Um. So I edited it. Lol. Thanks for pointing them out.
I'll be posting more soon, when I figure out what part I want to post.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 04, 2005 1:14 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Vicodin Cake rolled 2 4-sided dice:
4, 4
Total: 8 (2-8)
|
Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2005 3:13 pm
I think Imma take a break from that story. Im having a hard time figuring everything out. So. While I take a break from that, I'll entertain you with something else.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2005 3:32 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2005 8:49 pm
I feel so out of it. I haven't posted here in a very, very long time. I havent quite decided on the writing that I'll be sticking to, and how I'm going to write them. I'll try to come on more to critique other peoples, and then add more to my writing. Until then.
.Scars.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Mar 23, 2006 4:30 pm
RAWR.
I come back to the guild, and it's like..dead.
D-E-D, Ded.
Hmm.
On an update of my first story. Im using it as a school project for one of my classes. Currently, it's 40 pages long, though it has to be 50 pages by like..April 10th. I'm updating more of it right now.
Currently, I think I'll try to comment on a few people's stuff so maybe I wont be the only living being here. Then I might post some more of the story here. Or some of another story. We'll see. You know I love surprising you guys.
.Scars.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
