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Thread: Writers Corner

  1. #1
    Icarus's Avatar
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    Default Writers Corner

    This is pretty much a ripoff of Echoes' Artists Corner (Sorry man [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/wink.gif[/img] ) I would like to be a writer for a living, so, naturally, I write a lot of stuff. This is a place for people to post songs, poems, or stories if they want. I personally don't write many poems, but I write some stories. Here is a VERY short one that I wrote for my Creative Writing class last year. I don't have a name for it, but here it is. This was part of an assignment of 7 Vignettes; maybe I'll post the rest of them later. I'm not saying they're good (I've developed my style A LOT in the last year), but they have their moments [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img] Anyways, here's the first one:


    Vignette I:

    He limped after him, dragging his axe behind him on the metal floor of the factories second level. The man he was chasing turned his head around to look and slipped in a pool of blood. He fell forward and slammed his head on the cool metal, spurting blood into the lifeless eyes of his sons severed head. Everything was spinning and he could hear the rasping of the madman’s heavy breathing behind him, along with the horrible grating noise of the axe head on the floor. He tried to stand up, but he was still too disoriented.
    It was so hot on that level of the factory. His now crimson shirt clung to his body, and his sweat soaked hair laid flat in his face. His heart was pounding loud enough to deafen the sound of the machinery around him; the hiss of steam, the rattle of chains, and the constant clang clang of license plates being stamped. All of these sounds spiraled around him, making him want to throw up, but not for the first time that day.
    He steadied himself on his hands and knees and started to get up again, but collapsed due to the axe-head that was now firmly imbedded in his right shoulder. He screamed and rolled over. The madman yanked the axe out and looked at him. He slowly raised the axe over his head, then brought it down. Hard.
    He limped away, dragging his trusty axe behind him.



    And that's that. If anyone wants to comment or post their own writings, feel free.

  2. #2

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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    This is a funny humour song that I wrote with my friend. I want to remind you, that I don't have anything against homosexual people, this is just an innocent little joke. [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img]

    My girl is a monster in bed,
    She gives me the best pleasure I can get,
    But I think i have fell in love with a man who i met,
    Now I think my mind is set,
    And I am ready to bed!

    When I see his hip I get stiff,
    My love for him is as strong as a cliff,
    I think that he has something big,
    And I'm pretty sure that's his dick,
    Then I blow a kiss!

    This is boy love,
    And it feel's right!

    This is boy love
    And it feel's THIGHT!

    [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif[/img]

    I'm not sure what the line "Then I blow a kiss!" means, my friend came up with it...

  3. #3
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    ^^^Oh man, that is awesome! "And it feels TIGHT!" *shudder*

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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Thanks, now we might make it into a real song! [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/grin.gif[/img]

  5. #5
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Awesome. I've been working on an "epic" story if you want to use that word; I prefer the word "long" [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img] I've only got I think six or seven pages written in a notebook, but I'm really liking it so far; better than my short story (though longer than everyone else's) I wrote for Creative Writing. It's (the "epic") so far got vampires, werewolves, ghosts, regular men, and ghosts. I'm going to incorperate gypsies, zombies, gnomes, and maybe a mermaid or two, I haven't really decided yet. All in all, it's going to be big and I hope I can pull it off [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img]

  6. #6
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    a poem from last year (7th grade) that i found on my computer

    I am from rhythms
    From old and new
    I am from sounds of the city
    The noises
    Which could keep me up I remember as if they are not just sounds, but part of me

    I’m from Rock and Coke
    From sleep and eat
    I’m from the constant talk and the wrong way
    From “Are we there yet!” And “Why Must I!”
    I’m from shattering glass
    With trouble
    And guilt

    I’m from laughs and water
    Starbucks and pizza
    From the words of my own
    The walk of my feet

    Under my bed was a comic
    Showing anvils falling
    Pranks from all over
    I am from those characters

  7. #7
    Prezuiwf's Avatar
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    I do some writing but I get easily frustrated with myself-- I was about 40 pages into a movie script several months ago before I looked at it, realized it wasn't going in the direction I originally planned and I deleted the whole thing.

    I also write songs but that's worthless since I can't read or write music. I might put some lyrics up here later though.

  8. #8
    Psycho Man's Avatar
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Remember in Bill's 9th diary when he sternly said a song title and said it was copyrighted, that made me laugh, so be careful Prez
    "I want to tell you, yeah
    How Good It Feels
    Sleeping here with you tonight
    And that’s for real"
    -Sometimes I'm Happy 8/5/75

  9. #9
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    [ QUOTE ]
    This is pretty much a ripoff of Echoes' Artists Corner (Sorry man )

    [/ QUOTE ]

    I'm not upset about the ripoff. What's bugging me is your thread's off to a better start! Everybody wants to be a writer. But mention drawing? Ooo, suddenly everyone's averse to it.

  10. #10
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    But seriously, I'm a part-time poet myself. When I write a worthy poem (or find one from my archive), I'll post one.

  11. #11
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Sorry, what can I say? I was very interested in drawing back in middle school, but both of my friends were into it (and better) so I tried to find something else, which turned out to be writing. Now that I think about it, that right about the time I got into Black Sabbath. Coincidence...?

  12. #12
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    I submitted this to the school newspaper and got it published. I guess this would be considered my first published work [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img] Too bad I didn't get paid for it [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/frown.gif[/img]



    The damp grass brushes against my jeans. My brown boots are already wet, and the water is starting to seep into my socks. It is just after a light shower, and the sun is trying to peek through the gray sky above, but dusk is quickly approaching, and it doesn’t look like the sun will shine on my face today.
    That’s alright though; I just like to walk in the woods. The neon green of the trees and the blinding yellow of the wildflowers enter my vision and I finally see the forest as a whole, not just trees, flowers, and grass.
    I see a habitat; a home for natures beasts. I see a recreational house; a pool to swim in and walls to climb. But most of all, I see the nexus of a perfect existence; a place to go when I am sad, happy, bored, excited, but I always go there alone. I go to think, to be given joy, to be inspired, to relax. And really, isn’t that perfection? To be given a place to go and feel whatever you want, without the influences or distractions of the outside world?
    I take all of this in, and walk a little deeper into perfection. I step up to a small pond. A duck flies in and lands in the water. I am sure it doesn’t see me. A toad hops and plops in the murky green pond. A bird flies overhead, and I can hear the repetitive whisper of its wings approach, then slowly fade away. The air is clean; freshly washed by the rain. The clean air brings hundreds of smells of my nose. I inhale deeply.
    I smell the wildflowers; a sweet mixture that overpowers everything else. Under that, there is the pond; a public toilet for the beasts of the wood. Beyond that, the bitter smell of rotting wood fills my head.
    All of these things and more make up the smell of the woods. I turn around to leave this Nexus of Perfection, when I feel heat on the back of my neck. I turn around, and look into the blinding light of the white sun.

  13. #13
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Very well. Might as well make some sort of contribution. This is the most recent thing I wrote. Things to remember:
    1) I have a standard structure of 8 syllables/line, 4 lines/stanza.
    2) I write a long of "seize the day" type poems.

    This one is called "Living Life's Worth"

    Time won’t freeze or remain idle,
    An hourglass keeps flowing quite fast.
    You blink for one second and find
    Half the sand has already passed.

    Don’t wait for things to walk to you,
    You may only grasp once you reach.
    With all effort and will power
    All your barriers will be breached.

    You’ve got the whole world for yourself
    And many stars to shoot for.
    Never give up your faith or hope,
    ’Cause moments don’t last forever.

    Live your life like it’s worth thousands.
    And not slip into history.
    Make your dreams a reality
    Before they’re a distant memory.

  14. #14
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    [ QUOTE ]
    But mention drawing? Ooo, suddenly everyone's averse to it.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Well actually, drawing has become very popular amonge the (alternative...) youth in my country.

  15. #15

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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    I want to become an author and I write novells/short stories all the time. I right criminal stories, fantasy, romantic stories, stories about what happens after death and a lot of other stuff. I also write poems and song lyrics. Most of the stories are in Swedish, but I have written some songs and poems in English.

    Here's one I wrote after reading The Lord of the Rings, plus The Silmarillion:

    "We walk though the centurys
    We see the times of man come and go.
    We are on an endless path
    Wondering through the mists of woods and mountains.
    We don't care about the borders of kings and tyrants.
    We know all.
    We know none.
    From the cold morning to the dark night - we are on a road to nowhere.
    We are white.
    We are grey.
    We are brown and blue.
    We are the Istari"

    I wrote this poem a few years ago, but it sounds better in swedish.

    Another poem I wrote:

    "I am the truth.
    I have been around since the dawn of time.
    I will be here untill the end of days.
    I have lived a thousand lives.
    People have belived in me,
    some have made fun of me,
    others have not wanted to face me.
    I exist inside you
    I exist around you.
    I travell through the universe
    I am standing still on Earth
    I shout, I whisper
    I've been hidden, I have been yelled out.
    I am the thuth.
    Trust me."

    This poem also sounds better in Swedish, but I feel that it reflects my thoughts about everything. No matter which religion, ore political belief you have, you have to face the truth. Belive in the truth, cuz the thruth is the thruth.

    I wrote another song/poem a few months ago, about a crusader who started to see that what he did was wrong. I was a little inspired by Dio's The Man Who Would Be King, but this song/poem is not a metaphore for George Bush, like Dio's song was.
    Here we go (you'll have to exuse my bad spelling sometimes):

    "We sailed across seas, stormy by God.
    We travelled over land, red from blood.
    We batteled the heathens*, so that The Words could be spoken,
    but in the end they all were broken.
    We travelled for years, months and days
    We went across the world, in different ways.
    My path was hard, and the road was long
    I thought everything I did was right
    But what in the name of Christ, could I do wrong?

    But in the hour of darkness, when there was no light.
    I turned Him my back and walked into the night.
    The blood on my hands would not go away.
    Could there be a tomorrow ore another day?"

    I added another part later, but I don't know if I'm gonna includ it in the "final" version. It goes like this:

    "Friends are now enemies
    Family are foe
    King and country haunts me
    I Have no place to go."



    *I don't know how to spell this word, and if you don't see what I mean, it's another word for "sinners", sort of.


    Here is the first draft to a song. It's about Hell:

    "In the dungeons of darkness
    is the pit of the snake.
    In the halls of madness
    lies the seas of hate.

    In the valley of fire
    lies the castle of doom.
    Upon the the flames of the pyre
    shines the evil-eyed moon.

    Here comes the sinners
    who spat on God.
    They were the winners
    but the gold turned to mud."

  16. #16

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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    I have a story I've been working for the past 10 months and I'll post it if anyone wants to read it. Currently, it is almost 23 pages long on microsoft word using 12 font. Its a dark/fantasy like story with some twisted stuff here and there so if anyone would like to read it, just let me know. I'll have to do a little bit more editing first though so if anyone would like to read it, it wouldn't be posted on this sight until Thursday or Friday of this week. School work and track really makes me busy.


    On a side note, I just noticed this is my first post in over 2 months.

  17. #17
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Welcome back man! And yes, please post it; that seems to be tight up my alley [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img]

  18. #18

    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Once upon a time, a prince and a princess lived happily forever and ever.

    Nah, just kidding. I've been wanting to write something, but had nobody to show it to. I will share something here [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img]
    The dog's name is Pete. If he tries to mount you in the middle of the night, say "no" sternly. But don't look him in the eye.

  19. #19
    ledsabbath's Avatar
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    dude, you should definately publish the story you just posted, its original [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/cool.gif[/img]

  20. #20

    Default Re: Writers Corner

    lol
    The dog's name is Pete. If he tries to mount you in the middle of the night, say "no" sternly. But don't look him in the eye.

  21. #21

    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Tom woke up on his sofa to the sound of a bottle of Tequila breaking on the floor. He didn't know what was worse - the smell of 4 days without showering, the horrible feeling of an extreme hangover, or the fact that he had been unemployed for the last four months. He didn't have something to live for. The only people that gave a shit about him, his parents, had died in a car crash 3 weeks ago. He didn't have kids or a wife, and he was 55 years old. He had lost the hope of having a family years ago. He had no major interests in life, other than surviving with the few money he made at school. He was a teacher. With a big effort he managed to get up and walk all the way to the bathroom, where he puked. Tom pulled a towel, covered himself with it and fell asleep again.
    The dog's name is Pete. If he tries to mount you in the middle of the night, say "no" sternly. But don't look him in the eye.

  22. #22
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Another poem. I think I came up with this one about driving peacefully in the night while listening to Hotel California.

    At home I can’t seem to remain idle
    Knowing that life can leave a heavy load.
    I can only find my true inner peace
    When I’m driving along the open road.

    So I start up the engine late one night
    Ready to travel alone until day.
    It might help me to clear my mind, so
    I’d let the streets guide me along the way.

    Reaching the boulevard at a high speed
    And passing fast cars with blurred faces.
    Then with a cool breeze blowing in my hair
    I make a left turn to the next highway.

    This road will take me out of my hometown,
    Driving over dark pavement that’s empty.
    To fit the mood, I turn on the radio,
    And I crank up “Hotel California”.

    After driving all night along the roads
    Upon a mountain where I park my car.
    Exhausted by the drive, needing some rest,
    I choose to lay down underneath the stars.

    Feeling calm and well rested from my nap
    I decide to return home and restore.
    The sun is rising over the night sky
    As I travel down the highway once more.

  23. #23
    Icarus's Avatar
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    I think this needs a bump; it's on page four for crying out loud! I've come up with a very disturbing idea for a story, but I won't post anything about it until I at least have a first draft. All I'll say is that it's about a woman who gets an abortion and it's called "Mama".

  24. #24
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    I wrote this in my AP Lit class when I was supposed to be taking a test:

    My head hurts
    I feel like shit
    But that's how it goes
    In AP Lit

  25. #25

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    Default Re: Writers Corner


    The writing here is really stuff of quality, well done Guys
    keep it up!!!

  26. #26
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    We read A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift in Ap Lit, and were assigned to write our own. Here's mine, hope you like it:



    A Modest Proposal

    Imagine you are a cow. You are standing in a field, eating as much grass as you can, or imagine you are a chicken, picking around on a piece of ground, looking for every last grain of feed you can. Or maybe, just maybe, you are a pig, wallowing around; having fun, trying to increase your piggy plumpness to it’s full potential. All of these fine sources of food know what they are: sources of food. They eat and eat and eat to satisfy our flavorful needs as the dominant omnivores of this planet. However, there are some people who want to turn their backs on out way of living; they think they are better and wiser than us. They view animal slaughter as an abomination; a disgusting sin brought forth by the savages of our ancestors days. These panty-waisted, soy sucking, tofu taking, tree-hugging scums of humanity, also called “vegetarians”, are ruining this beautiful planet.
    Do they really think they’re better than us meat eaters? Do they really think they’re doing the humane thing by not eating these providers of protein? For every cow, chicken, or swine they don’t eat, that is another cow, chicken, or swine that does not get processed for food, and therefore eats and eats and eats until either their stomachs explode and they die a cruel, extremely slow, extremely agonizing death or the farmers who raise them see that they are too fat to be harvested for any good and kill them on the spot and lets their rotting carcasses become dirt, with no sustenance nor profit going to anyone.
    These people are a serious threat to our nations economy and must be dealt with accordingly. Therefore, my plan goes as follows:
    We find one of these “vegetarians” and find out everyone they love. Every family member, living and dead, every friend they have and have ever had, any children they may have, anyone they’ve ever greeted on the street or shaken hands with at a social gathering. Now, there must of course be some limitations on the harvesting of a family members corpse. I believe that no one higher up on the family tree than the grandparents will be dug up, out of good taste.
    To the living acquaintances, the government secretly puts additives into their food, every meal, for ninety days. By this time, they should all be noticeably plumper. At this time, the government will apprehend the acquaintances and the offender, and store them separately. The offender will be placed in a cold room, naked, and refused food for three to four days. They will, however, be allowed water. The acquaintances will be slaughtered in a very precise way: the children (assuming there are any; if there aren’t any, pets or children of friends will be used) will be filleted into steaks because their muscles won’t be as tough or stringy; very tender and juicy, topped with a few toes and tongues. The spouses and friends of similar ages will be beheaded and have their brains boiled for a soup, with eyes and fingernails for that extra kick thrown in. The elderly people will be ground up with any pets or other animals to make a mighty fine hamburger, with ears and kidneys as the toppings. The corpses of the loved ones will be saved for later.
    All these gourmet dishes will be brought in before the offender and be told that that is the only food that he or she will receive. If they refuse, that is where the corpses come in. Surely the scent of burning flesh will kick start their taste buds, will it not?
    If they either refuse again or vomit, they will be put on a very minor sedative, not enough to put them asleep, but enough to make sure that they don’t put up a fight. They will then be restrained and have their stomachs cut open by “trained professionals” and have the contents of the meal poured into their gaping wounds.
    When they die, they themselves will be ground up and fed to cows, chicken, and swine for future generations to enjoy.

  27. #27
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    BTW, I'm not anti-vegetarian, we just had to choose a topic that might be considered a social problem, using extreme circumstances

  28. #28

    Default Re: Writers Corner

    ...and so, Prince Charming told the princess: "Marry me" and the princess said: "NO!".

    And Prince Charming was overjoyed. He went fishing whenever he wanted to, he went for long walks at night, and did whatever he wanted to, without anyone bothering him around.
    The dog's name is Pete. If he tries to mount you in the middle of the night, say "no" sternly. But don't look him in the eye.

  29. #29

    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Fuck man, my english is too bad, so I won't try to translate my writings. But my style is just like Stephen King - God, I love his books. I've a click on Zombies, monsters or just psicologic terror, just like the Stephen's tipe!

    But let me try to write some lines about a thing that just have just pop in my mind.. I'll write in this quick reply window!


    A Hard Road
    By Rodrigo Teixeira aka. Ray Rules

    That was THE night. Nobody on the other side of the road, nobody on the back seat. It was just him and the pair of tits two steps on the right. A dark night, with stars and a full moon on the sky is just what the travellers want when they hit the road. But that night was a diferent night. Sometimes, the hunt become the hunter. Sometimes, the wild appears to strike it back.
    Joe was a son. That's his job. His father own a toxical waste storage center - a ilegal spot - and Joe only worrie, in the last 5 years, one between two things: how to spend his father money, and which local girl he will buy the company for the night.
    During that four wheels travel, Joe was driving, 100 miles on the digital speed display. He was half naked - the pants were sleeping at the floor, and his little fellow was swimming at his company's mouth.
    - What's that??? Fuck!! Oh man! Fuck! Get off, bitch!! - Ten metters away from his car, a cow was standing on the road, blocking the road. Seven metters away from his car, the cow was staring at him, Joe's car was point to the cow's face.
    - My hair!! Oh! It hurt!!
    - I'll hurt you if you don't back off, bitch!! - One metter. Just like a carrousel, the car start to spin across the road. The cow... - Where's that fucking stupid four... Oh! My nose! It's broke! - The car's driving wheel was covered with blood, nose blood. His company was sleeping. her face was covered with meat. Just like a broken vase, the content was spilled out by the impact. Car's hood was painted in the star splanged banner collors. Blue from the factory, red from the blood, and white from the eyeballs and bones. Her seatbealt was inside her mouth. A three inches piece of meat.
    The car was now upside down, and still rolling and rolling. He was watching the scene. Staring that place on the road where the cow was... or wasn't? Joe's vision was a litlle red, but he could see perfectly, but he couldn't locate the cow, or what remain from her. Ok, the place was covered with shadows and the moon was hided behind the clouds, but he couldn't see the fucking cow! Where's that fucking and stupid four... There! There it is!
    The cow appears, when the moon restart the light bath. But the animal, or the beast, acording to Joe, have no head. The blood was green, just like the leafs at the trees, just like the gram where his father leave that toxical waste. The cow was smelling fury and vengence, and she was comming for him. Step by step, she was wining the distance. Setp by step, he was losing blood at his...
    - Fuck! Where's my dick? FUCK! Oh my god! Wake up! Wake up me, God! This is a nightmare! This is just a awful dream!
    - No boy, this is real life. Your father have raped my kind, and now I'll collect your spirit! - Step by step, the cow was comming closer, trowing green blood in the ground, spreading hate on the air.
    - You're a cow! You cant speak! You can't walk! I kiss you with my car! You're suposed to be dead!
    - No, maggot. You're suposed to be dead. I'm dead. I'm pretty dead! Hell, I'm really dead! First your father shooted me! Your mom tryied to stab me... and your sister... Oh, your sister screamed like a little bitch!! She was yelling "Joe! Stop Joe! For God's Sake! Stop!".. - Step by step, the cow was getting bigger in his sigh.
    - I didn't kill them! Who are you?! You don't have a mouth! You can't talk! - Drop by drop, he was losing blood and color in the face.
    - Oh yeah! You kill! I'm your conscience! I'm God! I'm the devil! I'm everything! I'm the sheriff, and I've come to collect the due! - The last step, and the cow reach the car. The beast look down, shoving the neck inside the crash, just over Joe's head, and the green blood start to fall all over his face. A awful smeel start to rise up - just like a rotten meat in the grill. A satanic barbecue was happening there. And the cow was cooking the meat.
    - My eyes! They're burning! Oh god! Please help me! - The smoke was reaching the skys. A Thunder in the distance rumble Joe's ear with that gigantic sound.
    - God won't help you boy. You're faded to damnation. - The hell cow stand up her leg, that smelly leg, and a little shadow cover Joe's face. He was stocked in the seat by the seatbelt, his head was in contact with the roof - Do you have any last word?
    - My dick! Where's my dick?!? - The little sissy started to yel by his little one. The night was now getting lighter. At that point, he could see some maggots's heads at some holes at the cow's lether. Bullet holes.
    - You won't need your dick where you're going, kiddo. Your fucking people time is over. No, the world had roll, and now is your time to be fucked.
    At that moment, another thunder filled the road. The rain started to fall, as the moon was hiding behind the black clouds. As the moon light was disapearing, the devil cow started to fade away.
    Ten metters away, a truck appear after the curve. A horn and two flashlights hited the car. The driver saw a blue car. No animal, no nothing. A second car crash, and Joe's car was introduced to the flames. That evil family have finish their cicle. A violent end for a violent life. They fucked with the nature, so the nature strike them back. Truck driver start to call for help in the cell phone. He was in a wake up coma. In his sight, a american flag. The hood, painted in the star splanged banner.
    Can't you see what I see
    You and I victims of Their word
    As the master of power
    Try to poison our world
    ----- Eternal Idol ~ 1987

  30. #30

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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    [ QUOTE ]
    Very well. Might as well make some sort of contribution. This is the most recent thing I wrote. Things to remember:
    1) I have a standard structure of 8 syllables/line, 4 lines/stanza.
    2) I write a long of "seize the day" type poems.

    This one is called "Living Life's Worth"

    Time won’t freeze or remain idle,
    An hourglass keeps flowing quite fast.
    You blink for one second and find
    Half the sand has already passed.

    Don’t wait for things to walk to you,
    You may only grasp once you reach.
    With all effort and will power
    All your barriers will be breached.

    You’ve got the whole world for yourself
    And many stars to shoot for.
    Never give up your faith or hope,
    ’Cause moments don’t last forever.

    Live your life like it’s worth thousands.
    And not slip into history.
    Make your dreams a reality
    Before they’re a distant memory.

    [/ QUOTE ] It's very good Echoes, very deep i think! It's about our lives and our trust in ourselves! You're really right with your writing.

  31. #31
    Icarus's Avatar
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Here's an excerpt from that story I mentioned earlier with the vampires and witches and werewolves, etc.

    Part One
    Melicia

    It is a frigid January afternoon. There is a horrible blizzard raising Hell on the mountain, and there is only white as far as the eye can see. A lone wolf runs from a patch of woods to the frozen lake to drink from its haunted waters, but the ice is thick and she runs back in to the woods, defeated. The wind picks up even more and the sound is deafening. Suddenly, from the deepest depths of the storm, and faint gray shape appears. As it gets closer, it can be seen that it is a person; a woman, in fact. She gets closer still, and the gray turns to red. She is wearing a red trench coat made of lambs wool with white rabbit fur as it's lining.
    Her name is Katja and she is out in this terrible storm for a reason. Her servants don't know she is gone; they think she is taking a nap. Her husband is in the middle of a four day trip to Rome, and she hopes the snow doesn't keep him from coming home; she misses him, especially when it snows hard like this. Most of the servants don't want to go out in this kind of weather, but she makes them. Oh, yes she does.
    She strolls toward the lake, her hood up and her face covered. Then, over the screetching of the wind, she hears a faint crying. It seems to be coming from the woods on her left. She changes course and heads into the forest, and she is greatful because the trees act as a wind block. She hears the cry again and quickens her pace; it sounds like a child. She keeps going until she comes to a cave. Again, she hears the cry.
    It is a short cave, so she has to croutch low to get in. When she does get in, she wishes she hadn't. On the floor of the cave there is a mother wolf laying down with six or seven cubs around her, facing away from Katja. Most of the cubs are dead; one lies on it's side, hitching it's breath and weezing. Finally, it chokes on it's own saliva and dies. The mother is also dead. It's throat is torn out and there is blood all around it. Katja looks closer and sees that the blood is steaming and still dripping from the wolfs severed trachea. She realizes that whatever did this might still be nearby and she turns to run, but the cry again stops her. It seems to be coming from the other side of the wolf.
    Katja inches a little closer and sees them. Two naked babies are nursing at the dead wolfs teat, one boy, and one girl. Katja, still thinking about the thing that did this, snatches up the two babies. However, she is horrified to see blood leak out of the nipple instead of milk. She runs with the children tucked into her coat, struggling not to vomit. She'll have to come out here another time. She just wants to go home.

  32. #32

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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Poor little wolves!!!lol I realise that i like well to read you guys! It's very good! I'm imagining myself to be writing like all of you with my English [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/confused.gif[/img] [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/confused.gif[/img]lol It would be a true joke! [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/doh.gif[/img] GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE GUS... [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/confused.gif[/img] [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/confused.gif[/img] lol I'm laughing like a fool right now...

  33. #33
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    Here is a short story I wrote for my Creative Writing class. My teacher almost gave it back because it was "too violent", but she gave me an A, and she doesn't give out A's [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img] I dunno...I'm not a big fan of it anymore; it has to be fleshed out more. Let's see what you guys think. It's called Don't Be Cruel...

    (BTW, I'm not a racist; this takes place in 1958, so keep that in mind)


    Don't Be Cruel
    --------------

    “Swing, batta-batta, suh-WING batta-batta!”
    I screamed these words at the kid who was up to bat, sweat dripping down my face and bare back. It was a hot day in June; the hottest it had ever been some said, especially for New Hampshire.
    “Shut up Jones,” the kid at bat yelled across the empty lot behind McTroy’s Auto Shop that we used for a baseball field.
    “Why don’t you make me Wilcox?” I shouted from left field. I had been screaming taunts and obscenities at the players all day, and by the eighth inning, my voice was nearly gone.
    “Why don’t you both shut up and play the game?” Ian Samson said. At the sound of his voice, we both fell silent. He stood on the pitching mound, his face glistening in the afternoon sun. I watched as a single bead of sweat rolled down his right temple and fell into the deformed hole on the side of his head.
    Ian lived with his younger sister Sherryl and his father Tony. His mother had died in a car accident when he was four and Sherryl was three. Their father had been driving drunk and swerved into a tree. His mother, who hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt, was sent through the windshield and into the tree, breaking her neck and killing her instantly.
    Since the accident, Ian’s dad had been drinking a lot more, and would beat Ian and Sherryl. One night, when Ian was seven, and after a particularly heavy day of drinking, he got mad at Ian for playing Chuck Berry too loud. He stumbled into the room that Ian and Sherryl shared; cursing about rock n’ roll and that *****, did he think he was better than Tony Samson? Tony Samson fought in the Second World War for Christ’s sake!
    Ian took the needle off the record immediately and tried putting it away, but Tony grabbed him by the ear.
    “Teach you to listen to ***** music,” he screamed, and started yanking with all of his might. Ian screamed as blood started running down his right cheek. Sherryl sat on the bed and started crying. Tony continued to pull his son’s ear until the last strip of flesh gave away and tore away from his head.
    Ian rolled around on the floor, sobbing and holding his bloody head. Tony Samson dropped the ear, took another drink of beer, and then went back to the living room to watch more TV.
    “Okay Ian, sorry,” I said. “Let’s play.”

    After the game, Ian and I went to our little clearing in the woods. We both rode on my bike, because Ian’s had a flat rear tire. We stood in the clearing around the fire we had made, and waited for the other guys to show up.
    Skip Masters, the only Negro in our group, came through the trees, closely followed by Dean Orwitz.
    “Hey Cheeky, got any cigs?” Dean asked me immediately.
    “Not today Dean-o,” I said hoarsely.
    “You, Ian?”
    “Nope. You know if I got caught hocken’ ‘em off my old man, I’d get the snot kicked outta me.”
    Man, Skip don’t got none either, do ya Skip?”
    “You know I can’t stand those things,” Skip said.
    A couple minutes later, Chad and Tad Windows made their way into the clearing singing “Don’t Be Cruel” by Elvis. Chad, the older of the two and a big boy, was singing the “Don’t be cruel to a heart that’s true” part while Tad sang the backup “Ah-AH-ah” part.
    “Shut up you guys,” Dean said. “I’m so sick of that song, I could puke.” Tad stopped right away, but Chad kept going.
    “Chad, I said shut up!”
    “Okay, no need to get upset. Say Ian, did you guys win the game? Me and Tad had to go home for lunch, so we missed the end.”
    “Ah, it was horrible,” Ian said with a look of despair on his face. “In the eighth inning, Mike Wilcox knocked the ball outta the park.”
    Chad grinned. “Lemme guess, he danced around the bases like the fairy he is, right?”
    “He sure did,” I said with a laugh, then pranced around the fire pit singing “la-la-la-la-la-la”. The guys all fell down, roaring with laughter. I fell down too, laughing until tears streamed down my cheeks. We all remained that way until a shrill rose from the edge of the clearing.
    “What are you guys doing? You better not have told a dirty joke, Cheeky Jones, or I’ll tell your mother,” Jenna Forren said, hands on her hips and a frown on her face.
    “Hey Jenna, how are you?” Ian asked, grinning.
    “I’m doing fine Ian, thank you,” she said, sweeping her ruby hair over her shoulder. “Well Cheeky, what do you have to say for yourself?”
    I looked at the other guys, who were still trying to stifle laughs, then looked back at her. I slowly stood up, strolled over to her, and opened my mouth. I stayed that way for I don’t know how long, then, in my smoothest voice, sang “Baby, don’t be cruel to a heart that’s true.”
    She shoved me and even as my butt hit a rock, I was laughing. The other guys had erupted into another chorus of laughter, rolling around in the prickly grass.
    “You’re disgusting William Jones.”
    “It’s Cheeky babe, get it right,” I said, still smiling. She rolled her eyes and turned to Ian.
    “Why do you let him hang out with you?” she asked him.
    “Hey toots, I let him hang out with me, same with all of these other losers here,” I said grinning.
    “Go to Hell Jones,” Dean said, and threw a stick at me.
    I dodged it and said, “Hey, don’t make me kick you out of the group Dean-o!” At these words, Chad, Tad, and Skip tackled me. With all of them on me, Dean licked his finger and stuck it in my ear.
    “Wet willy!” he shrieked wildly.
    “Wet Cheeky!” Skip yelled, and they all laughed. As they laughed, I kneed Chad in the stomach.
    “Oof!” he wheezed and rolled over. As the five of us wrestled around, we heard a scream from deep in the woods. We stood up, brushing the dirt and leaves off of our shirts.
    “What was that?” Jenna said
    “I don’t know,” I said. “But it sounded like a girl, didn’t it?”
    “Damsel in distress!” Dean announced, and ran into the woods.
    “Dean, get back here! You’re crazy man!” Chad yelled after him.
    “Of course he is. Don’t you remember the farmer?” I asked him, frowning.
    “Yeah, how could I forget?”
    Earlier that year in January, when the rest of us were busy doing chores, Dean had been walking by the farms on the north side of town. While passing one, he saw a farmer chopping wood. After each whack! of the axe, the farmer would fall to his knees. Dean, who was at that time just a normal kid, walked up the long driveway to see what was wrong.
    Three days later, Dean escaped from the farmhouse, shoeless and pant less. After the farmer, whose name was Frank Carlitto, was arrested, he admitted that when Dean came up to see what was wrong, he hit him with the blunt side of the axe. For three days straight, he sexually molested Dean, until he escaped. Dean never talked about it, but he was obviously changed.
    “Well,” Ian said. “Let’s go after him.”

    We ran through the woods calling Dean’s name. Ian was in the lead, followed by Chad, me, Tad, Skip, and Jenna, long ruby hair flowing out behind her.
    Ian stopped so suddenly that Chad almost slammed in to him.
    “Dean…what’s wrong?” he said. I stepped out from behind Chad and saw Dean standing next to the Little Moor River.
    “Oh my God! What is that?” Jenna screamed from behind me. I turned around and saw that she was pointing at Dean’s feet. There was a massive clump of blond hair attached to a head. Parts of it were red.
    I stepped up next to Dean and saw that it was a girl. Dean was looking out at the water, crying.
    “Anyone know who she is?” I said, which was stupid, because she was face down on the ground. They all shook their heads no.
    “Dean,” Ian said. “What happened?”
    Dean slowly turned his head to look at him. “I….don’t know. Sh-she wu-wu-was like this when I g-g-got here.”
    “It’s okay,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.
    Jenna stood up. “Are you sure she’s dead? I mean, maybe she’s just hurt or something.”
    “No, she’s not breathing,” Tad said. “And there’s an awful lot of blood….”
    “Then we have to call the police,” Jenna declared, and turned around to walk away.
    “Wait!” Ian said. “Think about it: Dean was found with the body, and we can’t account for what he did before we caught up with him.”
    “And everyone knows how unstable Dean is,” I put in.
    “You know, I can here you,” Dean whispered softly.
    Well we can’t just leave her here!” Jenna yelled, ignoring Dean. “Do you expect me to leave her here to rot?”
    “Jenna, shut up! If we go to the police and tell them we found a dead body at Dean Orwitz’s feet, they’ll lock him up in a second,” Ian told her.
    “Yeah, let’s just think about this.” Chad said.
    I walked over to the dead body and rolled her over. “Oh man,” I said. Her green eyes were still open. Well, one was open; the other one was dangling out of her socket, and when I rolled her over, that jiggling orb greeted me. She would have been pretty if the left side of her face hadn’t been crushed. Her cheek had been ripped open, revealing freshly broken teeth.
    “Jesus Christ,” I said. “What kind of animal would do this?”
    “More importantly, is he still here?” Skip said, looking around. We all scanned the forest, looking for the color of flesh, but to no avail.
    “I don’t care,” Jenna said. “I’m leaving and telling the cops to come down here.”
    “Go ahead. I’ll just say that we found you here instead of Dean,” I told her.
    “That’s against the law, you can’t do that,” she said, her eyes full of fear. “And these guys won’t tell them that, will you?”
    We stood there, staring at her. She began to realize what was happening and started to cry.
    “Why?” she sobbed. “Why would you do that?’
    “We just need more time to figure out what we’re gonna do,” Ian said.
    “Oh, and just what might that be?” she asked through the tears. There was a long silence before I finally spoke up.
    “Maybe we should send her downstream,” I said.
    “What?” Jenna screamed. “What’s wrong with you? You can’t just send her downstream!”
    She looked at us one by one, pleading with her eyes. When she wasn’t looking at me or Chad, we both jumped on her.
    “Yeehaw! Git ‘er boys!” Dean screamed.
    “What are you guys doing?” she said. I could see the terror in her eyes, and I loved it.
    “What does it look like girl? We can’t let little Alyssa float downstream all by herself, can we boys?” I said laughing.
    “No way Cheeky,” Ian said. “No way.”
    “Ian, help me please! Please!” she screamed, but he just stood there, grinning that creepy grin that he’s perfected over the years.
    Chad grabbed all of the fingers on Jenna’s left hand, and with a grunt and a sickening crunch, broke them all back. She tried to scream, but I had my hand over her mouth.
    “See,” I said when she had calmed down a little bit. “Alyssa here has been dead since yesterday morning. That scream you heard was just a bird or something. Remember, I’m the one who suggested that it sounded like a girl. We lured you out here-”
    “Yeah, so now we can kill you too!” Dean cackled wildly. “How are we gonna do her? A rock like the other one?”
    “How ‘bout cutting her throat?” Skip said. “I saw it in one of those crime books.”
    “Yeah, that sounds good,” Tad said, licking his lips. “What do you think Ian?”
    “Sounds fine. Anyone got a knife?’
    We all looked at each other. No one had a knife.
    “Oh well, we could beat her to death. That might be fun,” I said casually.
    “How can you do this? Why?” Jenna sobbed. “Please, just let me got. I won’t tell a soul, I swear!”
    “I’ve got it!” Ian said, that grin still plastered to his face. “Hang on, I’ll be back.” With that, ran into the woods, back to the clearing.
    “Why!?” screamed Jenna, her face all twisted from crying.
    “Why!?” mocked Skip, laughing. “The question is ‘why not’ really,” he said. “I mean, if it’s fun, why not do it?”
    Ian came back out of the woods. One hand he kept behind his back, in the other, he held a rope.
    “Tie her to the tree,” he said, nodding to the nearby tree and thrusting the rope into my hands. Skip took my place, helping Chad hold her down while I fastened the rope to the tree. We all helped lift her up and push her against it. She tried to struggle, but a kick to the stomach took care of that.
    After she had been tied to the tree, tears streaming down her face, out of breath, and a sore stomach, Ian took it out. His baseball bat from earlier that day.
    When Dean saw it, he squealed with joy. I laughed, just thinking about how much it was going to hurt her.
    “Ian, you are a genius!” Tad said. Ian stepped up to bat, feet spread, and facing Jenna.
    “Please,” she managed to whisper before I cut her off.
    “Swing, batta-batta, suh-WING batta-batta!”
    Ian brought the bat back and swung it forward with all of his might. I will never forget the beautiful sound that the bat made as it bounced off of Jenna’s skull over and over again until her brains were oozing over the forest floor.
    I picked a piece up and popped it into my mouth. Looking at my friends, I said with a shrug, “Brain food.” They howled with laughter.
    “Cheeky, you’re such a dork,” Dean said.
    “Your mother doesn’t seem to think so,” I said smiling. “Let’s get something to eat, I’m starving.”
    “Me too,” said Skip.
    Those were the best friends I ever had, and I wouldn’t trade my time with them for anything else in the world.

    THE END

  34. #34
    ThW's Avatar
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/shocked.gif[/img] (this will probably last for several hours)
    I'm just a man and I am what I am,
    Nobody will ever change my ways.

  35. #35
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Is that a good [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/shocked.gif[/img] or a bad [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/shocked.gif[/img] ?

  36. #36
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    There was a man from China,
    who wasn't a very good climber.
    When he slipped on a rock,
    he split open his cock,
    and now he's got a vagina!

  37. #37

    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Oh shit!
    The dog's name is Pete. If he tries to mount you in the middle of the night, say "no" sternly. But don't look him in the eye.

  38. #38

    Default Re: Writers Corner

    I read this one a few years ago somewhere over the internet. I don't take credit for it:

    "In days of old, when knights were bold and rubbers weren't invented, they tied socks 'round their dicks and babies were prevented"
    The dog's name is Pete. If he tries to mount you in the middle of the night, say "no" sternly. But don't look him in the eye.

  39. #39
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    [ QUOTE ]
    Is that a good [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/shocked.gif[/img] or a bad [img]/ubbthreads/images/graemlins/shocked.gif[/img] ?

    [/ QUOTE ]

    I'm not sure...
    I'm just a man and I am what I am,
    Nobody will ever change my ways.

  40. #40
    Icarus's Avatar
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    Default Re: Writers Corner

    Well was it "Oh my God, that's disgusting!" or "Oh my God, that was great!"? Feedback, people, I need feedback!

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