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Writers Club/Guild
Link | by Doomlight on 2009-02-21 21:10:51 (edited 2011-11-29 00:14:50)
I was kinda sad to see that there was none so :D i'm deciding to make one for the writers club. You can request to join and request to make a short story for you.

Please keep spam to a minimum and also it would help if you guys would put like a story so that people would read it :D

EDIT: Not Everybody Writes Short Stories And I Understand that so im extending it from Short Stories to Any Type Of Literature. From Poems to some other stuff too...*blank*...to whatever your hearts desire. Please Note That There Is An RP Section on Gendou...We Do Not Do RP's Here :D.

Edit Again: I've just noticed that theres a poem thread >_> and as miko stated " This thread should be like focus mainly on Stories only, you guys are killing the Poem Thread if you just keep posting your poem here instead of your
stories ", Were not trying to kill the poem thread so if i can ask people kindly that they post there poems there as well or mostly there(unless you really want to kill it lol) ^^ and we'll see how that works out.

Members So Far:
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Note: I rarely post on the fourms xp. But lets hope this makes me post more actively

For Readers Who Read The Writers Club Stories

<img src="http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a397/Blackbid/GWCR.png">

For Actual Club Members

<img src="http://i290.photobucket.com/albums/ll258/Furukatos10/LittleBusters_PVB_041-1.jpg">

<img src="http://i40.tinypic.com/208edlz.png">


<img src="http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll110/Peach_Twilight/Sigs%20and%20Avies/WritersGuild.png">



<img src="http://i711.photobucket.com/albums/ww114/CursedKitsuneLove/Avatars/vlcsnap-318634.png">
Made by tifa.








STORY:


"This Is Adrian 2-1. Flying over practice area 1 on grid 023682" radioed the co-pilot,

"Roger that" replied the operator.

As the blackhawk hovered over the forest at 200ft, Michael started looking around at the forest below with his co-pilot using the camera to view far places. As they continued moving further away from Mahora Academy, they saw smoke within a plain area with a person in the distance,

" This is Adrian 2-1, theres smoke rising from a plain within our current area, going in to investigate" radioed Michael,

"Roger That Adrian 2-1, Keep your eyes open" replied the operator.

They continued to the smoke site when they saw a person holding something towards them. As the co-pilot tried to focus in on them, Michael saw some people on the ground within the forest. As Michael started looking at them, the co-pilot saw a flash coming from the person.

"MISSLE, 12 O'CLOCK EVASIVE ACTION" yelled the co-pilot,

Michael pulled the stick and started moving up. The two flashes of light started getting closer so Michael turened the Blackhawk to the left.

"Eat Flares" Said Michael grinding at his teeth.

Michael fired the chaffs and they were fired out in all directions. The heat sources ignored the flares and continued on to the blackhawk. The missle came up to the tail rotar and exploded, taking it out.

" This is Adrian 2-1, we are hit, I say again we are hit" radioed Michael,

" We Lost the Tail Rotar " yelled the co-pilot,

" $%!#, were Going down, This is Adrian 2-1 we are going down, we are 20 miles away from Mahora, Were landing in the plains. Damm it its hot, BRACE FOR IMPACT",

The Blackhawk started twirling around and around and around till suddenly they hit the ground but missed the target by a bit and started flying to the trees. Michael forced the blackhawk down into the ground making it slide. The Propeller broke off and smashed thru the cockpit window piercing the co-pilot in the stomach as the helicopter continued to slow down.

I know it has typos around there...and this is part of my rough draft xp...not yet finished the story and i know ichi posted the edited version somewhere and ill find it eventually but till then yeah ^^.


~Doomlight

Last Updated: 04/04/2011 (2107hrs (GMT-5))

http://i34.tinypic.com/33pad0k.jpg

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by fhfyeodb on 2009-02-21 21:18:04 (edited 2009-02-25 18:53:41)
+___+ WRITING!
^____^ I want to join, I love writing short stories.

I like your story, especially the dialogue and how you just kind of throw us into the middle of all the action.

:3 I hope this club is successful~

Edit: Uh, well I guess I'll post part of my story that I wrote awhile ago.
Just a little back info, it's very, very loosely based off a true event cause I had a neighbor who is now a famous band member and...yeah. Other than that, it's all fiction.
Oh, and there's some drug use in it so if that bothers you, you don't have to read it. ._.


Since I was four years old, I’d been wishing for a nearly impossible dream. I want to marry a rock star. Not just any rock star. The vocalist of one of the most popular bands right now. Jimmy Lee Anderson.

If I had told anyone about this dream of mine, they would automatically write it off as a whimsical lustful desire of any teenage girl. After all, Jimmy Lee has a huge fanbase of crazy teenage girls who would be dying to throw their panties at him. Not me though. I’ve loved Jimmy Lee for most of my life even before he had his rise to fame.

Jimmy Lee used to live down my street when I was four years old. My family moved into our house after my fourth birthday and he was already living on my street when we moved in. He’s eighteen years older than me so he was twenty-two years old when I had my first personal encounter with him.

When I first met him, I have to admit, he was sort of menacing. Most things are when you’re only four years old though. Jimmy Lee used to speed up the street a lot and I would always seeing him driving away with a sort of angry expression. The old woman who lived across the street from my house would constantly scold him and tell him not speed so fast because there were young children living on the street. You’d think they maintain a poor relationship, an old fussy lady and a cool band member, but no. They actually became good friends. And that’s what I loved about Jimmy Lee. Even though he had an angry expression on his face, it wasn’t because he was mad. It was just the way his face was (unfortunately). Inside, he was a caring and socially aware person.

Sometimes I would take a walk down the street with my mother and pass by Jimmy Lee’s house and I would be able to hear him and the other two band members rehearsing. He would be singing, drums beating, guitars strumming until one of them would mess up and Jimmy would yell something like, "Ah, f*ck. All right, from the top." It might seem odd but I loved that about him. Even though he was such a great artist he still retained the ability to make mistakes and remain human.

When I met Jimmy the band was already signed onto a major record label. Oh god, how so many people hated them for doing that. You’d think that fans would be happy to see so much success coming towards the band, but not these fans. Jimmy Lee’s band would often play at a very well known alternative music club. One of their rules was that if you were signed with a major record label you weren’t allowed to play at the club. So, Jimmy and his band were barred from the club from there on out. Everyone called them sell outs. Music fans can be like that. If you don’t follow a certain social pattern you get shunned from them. Then it seems as if your music is the last thing on their minds and their highest priority is their integrity filled social values. And apparently selling your credibility for money was looked down upon by this club. People still hate them to this day for doing that. Just the other day I was talking to one of my classmates and the subject of Jimmy Lee’s band came up and she ranted on about how she and her music friends think his band sucks because they aren’t "part of the community" any more. But it doesn’t bother me so much. Jimmy Lee had dropped out of high school to pursue his career in music. He deserved bigger and better things and I at least still respect him. I know that in order to reach a larger audience there are just certain things you have to do and put behind you.

How I actually got to know Jimmy on a personal level came out of something quite unpleasant. There was another family up the street in the opposite direction in which Jimmy Lee lived in. There was a boy who was two years older than me and a girl who was my age. Simply saying they were mean to me would be an understatement. They were bullies. It’s bad enough that there were two of them, but they worked together against me. At first it’d be little things like "let’s go make fun of the new girl’s ugly old house or her clothes." But then they started to get physical. They’d start taking things like my toys and push me down.

No one ever bothered to help me. My older brother was too much of a wimp and stayed inside to be Mommy’s little helper. I didn’t want to ask my mom or else she’d force me to stay in as well. She was like that, always over protective. So instead I played outside by myself and just tried to hide when I saw them coming in my direction. About half of the time I was able to get away from the bullies but half the time isn’t enough for a kid. Every time they got me seemed to hurt more.

On one day that was particularly brutal they took one of my favorite dolls and smashed its head it. Soon after it seemed that they did the same thing to me. I was dazed and when I looked up I saw them running away with another one of my dolls and my favorite jump rope.

I thought my mother might be coming outside so I ran down the street so she wouldn’t have to see me crying. Even as a kid you know there is nothing worse then having your mother save your ass. So I walked down the street. I kept walking until a car sped past me and stopped in front of a house with a warm but dilapidated looking porch. A young man stepped out of the beat up car and looked over at me. I stared up at him and then hid my face and walked a little faster because I didn’t want him to see me crying.

"Hey, wait," he called out to me.
I turned around and paused for a bit. He strode over to me and when he reached me he knelt down and looked me in the eye with a concerned expression.

"Are you okay? Do you-do you want your mom?"

I shook my head furiously. That was the last thing I wanted.

He gave a slight smile. "You can tell me what’s wrong. I want to help
you."

"Andy and Layla…hit me."

"Who?"

"Those kids up there," I said while pointing up to them. You could still see them from Jimmy’s house. Layla was playing with my jump rope and my doll was laying next to her on the ground. Andy was pacing back and forth around the front yard, almost like a dog guarding its territory. "The jump rope and dolly. They’re mine," I faltered and started to turn away.

"Oh. All right, just a sec. You sit here on the porch and I’ll be
right back," he said glancing over to them before darting up the street.

I sat down on the porch and closed my eyes. I was sure he was going to go get my mom, I just knew it. Then she would scold me for not running to her. I curled up on the porch and pretended I was far away. Far away from Andy and Layla and far away from this strange man who was going to tell on me. While wiping my eyes I felt something prod me in the arm. I sat up and saw him sitting next to me with my things.

"Here," he said while gesturing for me to take them.

"T-Thanks," I said through sniffles.

"No problem. Just ask me again if you have any more trouble," he said warmly.

I nodded my head and started to walk home, doll in one arm jump rope in another. I looked over my shoulder and glanced over to see him still standing there.

"What’s your name?" I asked curiously.

"Jimmy Lee. Or just Jimmy. What’s yours?"

"Kitty."

"Oh. Well, ‘bye Kitty. See you around later," he said unlocking his door and stepping in.


As a person, Jimmy Lee was amazingly nice. He would always smile at me and my brother when we played in the front yard as he walked up the street. Every so often in his spare time he would sit on the front porch and softly plunk away on his guitar. This in particular attracted me to him. I loved how he dedicated his whole life to his music. He’d ask me to come onto the porch and join him and he’d explain to me how the guitar worked, going up and down on the frets. I’d do this often with him, just sitting on the front porch listening to him play. He’d tell me stories about some of his memorable performances. Of course he’d have to leave out all of the dirty and inappropriate instances to make it safe for a child. But then he’d discover that if he took all those things out there basically was no story at all and was stuck with nothing to tell me. Jimmy would then have to make up some wild story that was child appropriate and for some reason it usually had something to do with unicorns. I don’t know why he chose that subject. I guess he thought it’d entertain me cause I was a little girl. Even at that age I found Jimmy Lee’s stories ridiculous but I didn’t care. I liked being around him and I wished that our rare meeting together wouldn’t end.

They had to of course though. After Jimmy Lee and his band released their first major record, their popularity shot through the roof. They sold thousands of records and started planning their tour. Almost immediately after they released their record they left on their world tour. Jimmy Lee packed up his things one day and I came by his house. I asked him what was going on and he informed me of his departure. I couldn’t believe it. The person I had become so attached to over the past months was suddenly leaving? How could that be? He was supposed to stay forever and things were supposed to stay the same. I wanted him to stay. I needed him to say. I needed the consistency. So why was he suddenly going to leave me?

On the day he had all his things packed he did a round of the street and said good bye to all the neighbors he was close to. I looked across the street and saw Jimmy Lee shaking hands with the old lady and her husband. He then turned around and started heading to my front gate which I stood in front of. He looked down at me with a melancholy smile, rubbed my head playfully and said "Take care, kid. And remember those unicorns." He turned around, stepped into his car full of his belongings and sped away. And that was the last time I saw him.

Over the years it was weird to see Jimmy Lee on magazine covers and occasionally on TV. To me at least, it was as if he had risen to fame over night. Was this really the same person who would sit on his front porch playing the guitar with me? I started to wonder if he even remembered me. Probably not. A internationally famous musician on world tours has better things to do than reminisce about a child neighbor. But that doesn’t mean that I ever forgot him. Of course not. I missed him and I tried to get as much information about him as possible. I kept hoping, wishing, that he was someday going to come down my street speeding down as usual and return. He never did though.

Slowly traces of him started to disappear from our street. The people who Jimmy Lee rented his house from renovated the whole thing. They tore out the carpeting and painted every wall. That part didn’t bother me so much. The worst part was when they tore up the front porch. Our porch. The place where we sat together and taught me about music and told me ridiculous stories. It was just gone. The warm, worn out wood was replaced with harsh unrecognizable black tiles. Then the old lady died from a stroke. The only other person who knew Jimmy Lee like I did on the street was gone, just like the porch. Now left was Layla and Andy who would slander Jimmy Lee in front of me as often as they could, calling him a sell out, an outsider. If I didn’t remember, probably no one would even know that Jimmy had once lived on my street. I started to tell myself that he wasn’t coming back and I should just forget about him but I couldn’t. I didn’t have any closure when he left and deep down inside of me, I kept believing that he was going to come home.
Without anything to remind me of him, I did slowly start to think less of him.

I didn’t forget him though, or the unicorns. Late at night I’d still think about the brief time we shared together. My yearning had definitely decreased though. It would escalate every time Jimmy Lee’s band released a new album and I’d spend hours just sitting in my room listening to it. I wanted to see them live in concert and at least be that close to him even if he didn’t know I was there. My mother would never let me though. She never really liked Jimmy because he used to smoke a lot of weed. You could smell it on his breath and on his clothes but it wasn’t as if he ever tried to influence me into doing it. After all, what kind of scum bag would make a four year old child smoke weed? Definitely not Jimmy Lee. But regardless, her rules were clear: there would be no concerts of Jimmy Lee’s band for me.

So there I was, stuck at a dead end in my Jimmy situation. One day when I was seventeen years old I had the radio turned up, listening to Jimmy Lee’s band’s newest top single. I mouthed the words silently thinking about the day’s previous events. I hated school. I didn’t fit in. I wasn’t popular but I wasn’t an outcast. I was just kind of there, hanging out with a few people I called friends silently listening to their woes and complaints. They didn’t really care about what I had to say so I just kind of sat there wishing for the day to be over. Today wasn’t so bad in comparison to some other days.
Layla still hated me and would bully me whenever she saw me, making some kind of snide remark on my appearance or clothes. I used to try to fight back but I gave up. She had too many followers while I was always alone. If I ever tried to resist her torment she’d just say something about how I was nothing without Jimmy Lee. Too weak to really stand up for myself. I hated it when she talked about Jimmy because it was always in a negative light so I just started to ignore her.

On this day in particular all I could think about was my friend Sierra ramble on about how her parents wouldn’t buy her the new computer she believed she "deserved." While replaying her rant in my head, I made commentary about how she was such a spoiled kid and what she really deserved was to be subjected to some real problems. (Not that I’m boasting I’ve really had any myself. Yearning for a rock star couldn’t exactly be classified as a "real problem.")
Anyway, there I was. Listening to Jimmy singing and making sarcastic remarks to myself about my so called friends. When the song ended, the DJ made an announcement. "And for all you fans out there of the last song we just played, you’ll be happy to hear what we’ve go to say for you! We’re giving out two free tickets to see Jimmy Lee Anderson and the band at the Calliston Stadium next Saturday! Be caller forty-seven and these tickets will be yours!"

"Great," I thought to myself. "Just another concert I won’t be able to go to. And the Calliston Stadium is so close too."

I sighed and picked up my blue pipe that was laying next to my bed and stuffed the bowl full of weed. While lighting and inhaling, I thought maybe I could come up with some idea while I was high. Even if I did, it probably wouldn’t make much sense once the weed wore off so I took a couple more hits and put the pipe down. Now that I was bored and slightly high, I played a game I liked to play when I was like this I affectionately called "What would you do if Jimmy Lee was here?"

Mind racing and body heavy, I searched my mind of what I would’ve liked to do. "Write a song? Go for a walk? Play knuckles? Yeah, I think I like that one the best." I lifted my hands above my head and started playing knuckles by myself. After knocking my fists into each other a few times, my phone rang. I jumped from the sudden ring seeing as my phone hardly ever rang. Still lying face up on my bed, I thrust my hand onto my desk and fumbled blindly for the phone.

"Hello?" I said groggily while lifting the receiver to my ear.

"Kitty, oh my god, you won’t believe it." It was Sierra and it sounded as if she was close to hyperventilating.

"What? Did your parents give you that new computer?"

"Actually no, but they compensated me with something else."

"Which would be?" My patience was getting thin.

"You know that Jimmy Lee and the band is coming to play at the Calliston Stadium, right? Well my dad’s company does advertising for them, the stadium that is, and they had a raffle at his office for some free tickets they gave his work and he won them!"

"Whoop dee doo. Have fun with your pa at the concert. Something I’ll never be able to do." I knew I shouldn’t had sounded so grumpy but I didn’t feel like being taunted in the face at the moment.

"No, Kitty. You don’t get it. My dad didn’t want to go so he gave me the
tickets and I’m asking you to come with me."

I sat up on my bed, legs still outstretched, my body now in a ninety degree angle.

"What? Are you f*cking serious?" I asked.

"Yeah, totally!"

"Sweet, when is it? I gotta come up with some alibi to tell my mom so she doesn’t get suspicious." I said.

"Well," Sierra started. "The concert is next Saturday at seven-o-clock so I guess you could stay overnight so you won’t have to lie completely to your mom."
That was something I did not want to do. Not only was I too old for sleepovers but this one included Sierra. Still, she was giving me a free concert so I decided it was best for me to accept with some gratitude even though I didn’t feel completely gratified.

"All right, I guess that’ll work. I’ll tell her that we’re also working on a project in case she thinks I’m too old for sleepovers."

"K. So, my dad will drop us off at the Callison Stadium and said that we should call him when it gets out so he can pick us up and take us back to my house. I guess we’ll pick you up around five-forty five or six-ish?" Sierra proposed.

"Cool, sounds fine with me," I said trying to contain my excitement. "Thanks for inviting me."

"No problem, don’t mention it!" Sierra said with perk in her voice with a hint of pride that implied she did want me to mention it and spread her great deeds of generosity.


T_____T OMG, it's so friggen long! I'm sorry!

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by aiskeriimu on 2009-02-21 21:50:09 (edited 2009-02-21 21:50:21)
OOOH~! A WRITERS CLUB! Can I join? *_* Ahaha, I'll post up an excerpt of a story I'm writing after I find it... -searches thorugh thumbrive (The messy idiot)-

»»Everyone makes mistakes. The trick is to make mistakes when nobody is looking.«« Back. At last. ._.

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by slayer666 on 2009-02-21 22:16:34
I think, Shmee will just read everything. I is not much of a story writer, but I is a reader :3


Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by on 2009-02-22 01:41:55

I'll join. :D

It’s a brand new day for our main character in this fiction of mine. And it’s not only a brand new day, but it is a brand new day of a school year. As the teacher greeted them.

“Good morning class, My name is Mrs. Dayacap and I’ll be your new home teacher for kindergarten class and what a beautiful day to start a new school year. But before that, let me introduce to you a transferee.”

The teacher look at the door and gave a simple nod to it, as she was translating it to the transfer student to come in.

“Why won’t you introduce yourself to the class?”

The girl, which is the transferee student, went inside and nod and look at her feet, as she was obviously nervous and shy at the same time. But gain confident as she accidentally look at this boy, who was looking back to her.

“Ma. .my. .name is Botan Daioh. Nice meeting you all.” She said looking back at her feet.

“That wasn’t so bad.” The teacher said, smiling at her. “Now, you can sit beside our young Shuiichi over there. Mr. Shuiichi, can you please raise your hand so Ms. Botan can see you.”

Shuiichi did raise his hand, and so Botan walk into the chair beside Shuiichi.

The teacher got her attendance notebook, and start calling names and check if they are present or not. As it was continuing the student start chatting, but more of fighting, throwing stuffs and pulling hairs and the whole class got a bit chaos. As all kindergarten do.

Except for Shuiichi and Botan. As their behavior was for first class student.

As Botan sat down, she can’t keep her eyes away to young Shuiichi. Because of his good looks, emerald eyes, red hair and his attire is nice and neat, and he smell like roses. And so, Shuiichi got a little bit annoyed and look at her.

“Hi! My name is Shuiichi, please stop looking at me. It’s getting annoying, no offense.” For a kindergarten, he does know how to talk smart.

“A. . .I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too.” She said looking away at him.

“It’s okay, it’s your first time here and it’s my fault for being rude. I’m sorry for my rudeness.”

Their conversation was stop as the teacher start calling Shuiichi’s initial.

“I’m here.” He said looking at the teacher.

And the teacher continue calling names.

As she call the last name, she set fourteen different color for the whole class.

“Everyone, I set fourteen crayons in this table, and I would like you to get one crayon in each of you and then draw anything you want to draw in your drawing book. Is that okay with all of you? Well then, start getting crayons. . .

She was cut in, by little students rushing to the table with crayons in top of it.

. . .but fall in line.” She sighed as she saw that the table was out of crayon except for one last crayon.

“Here Shuiichi, I got you the red color, cause it’s your favorite color.” The girl said, flirting to Shuiichi, who was sitting. And didn’t bother to stand up to get a crayon.

“Thank you, I guess.”

But poor Botan, has to stand up to get the last crayon in the table.

“Here you go Botan, the last crayon.” The teacher said, handing her the last crayon.

She pouted as she saw that last crayon, was the black crayon. She wanted to cry, for she was unlucky, for having that gothic thing in her hand, and for having no friends, and for transferring into that school and for everything that wasn’t good and fare at her at that day. She was insulted, but she stop her tear. As she doesn’t want to be a failure. Instead, she walk back at her table and start telling to herself that be ‘patient’.

But she doesn’t know that Shuiichi was gazing at her and looking at her every move.

She sat down, get her drawing book from her bag, and as she was about to start drawing, someone took the crayon from her smooth and small hand.

“Hey! Give it back! Please give it back Shuiichi! I’m begging.” She beg for she was annoyed. And as she was about to start crying, cause she can’t take another of it. He suddenly said.

“Here, take my red crayon. Keep it and take care of it or I’ll be getting it back, okay?” he gently said, handing the pretty red crayon to her.

“But. .it’s your favorite crayon.” she said, wiping her tears

“Don’t you like the pretty red color?”

“No, of course I like it.”

“Then it’s yours” He handed the crayon to her.

“Thank you Shuiichi-kun” they're hands touch for a moment, but she pulled it back, blushing.

“Your welcome”

They both sat down to their sits. And they start their drawings.

“Shuiichi.”

"You can call me Kurama, if you want."

"Kurama?"

“Yes?”

“Can I be your bestfriend?” She said, blushing, but didn’t even look at him.

But he look at her, for her question was obviously weird, but instead of refusing the friendly offer. He smiled.

“I would love to be your bestfriend.”

She look at him, as he was looking back at him. They both smiled to each other. And then Botan went back to her drawing, as Shuiichi whispered to himself. The word.

"Bestfriend, Forever."

--

END




Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by on 2009-02-22 04:11:07
Well, i'm no good at writing stories, but um-

I've had this idea....

In TV dramas, it's always about one main character from either the forensics department, the police department or the investigations/ detective department... so i wanted to bring all main characters from each end together e.g.

Detective T----- arrived first, the body had been grossly cut up ( la de dah, la de dah ) he examined it and looked around, there had been a path down to the shore that had been clumsily covered up.....

Detective T----- and his very eager assistant went to his study to look for clues as to who might have had a motive to kill the billionaire, although there was prabably a thousand suspects, all of which would want their grubby mitts on all that cash.

He opened the door and couldn't hold back a whistle. The room was very impressive. A dozen 50 inch plasmas covered a wall on the far side of the room, whilst a huge mahoghany desk planted itself adjacent to the screens. Behind the desk ( with the very nice black leather swivel chair ) was a huge collection of books that lined up each row of the shelf that was ceiling high and loomed over the desk. The windows looked out onto an amazing view of the island, with the sandy beaches and sea looking deliciously tangtalising under the rising sun.

Detective T----- turned to his assistant " Uhh, could you call Inspector chief ----- up here for me ?" The assistant ran off to do just that whilst Detective T----- stared at the floor under the desk.

After a couple of seconds, mammoth footsteps could be heard heading towards the study. Detective T----- did not look up.

The door burst open and the whole force that had been downstairs and dotted around the building earlier had all gathered to this very study.

Detective T------ sighed, he often had this effect on people, a billion people rushing to hear what insignificant thing he had to say even if it was " My coffee's gone cold " Well, that's what you get for being the most notorious detective in --------.

_________________________________________ CHAPTER 2 _________________________________________

Sam headed to the "Study" after everyone else. He sighed as he brushed off the dust left on the body after EVERYONE went at the call of the Detective.

He got up there and saw Detective T----- at the door with his arms folded- " Why is it always you" he said grinning.

" Well, because of the mass destruction left behind that I had to clear up thanks to your fans "

Sam and Detective T----- were best friends. Both were equally intelligent and inportant in the world of POLICE.

"Come through " said Detective T------ turning serious mode again. " Tell me what you think of this" he said.


Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by Doomlight on 2009-02-22 05:56:04
=_= i think i should have used microsoft word instead of pencil and paper...*facepalms* but anywayys

@Jon: Your Story Is Great. >_> Unicorns lol. If i may ask how are you going to end it lol.

@uKissa: Those characters sound so familiar...meh...i'll remember them eventually. Btw When i skipped the first sentence i thought it was like high school lol then i read kindergarden and i'm O_o so i reread it again and it seems like a good story how 2 kids not knowing each other become best friends somehow in a few days.*sigh* i miss those days lol

@Mokona: hmmm thats a great idea. *thinks that your requesting that sorry if im wrong* Ok First off you dont need to be a great writer to write. Nobodys great in writing we all have our weaknesses along the line. Me Im Bad At editing. Just use your imagination and take it to however you feel like it. Remember nothings stopping you from writing since we live in a society that allows us to write whatever we want. So give it a try :D, and me or somebody else will help you along the way if you need it ^^.

Guys remember Fourms Conduct applies here as well ._. so if you know you have like swearing and what not. Take Those Extra Few Seconds to Edit It. It saves me, you and everybody else to go down the post and edit it or delete it >_> . I know this is censorship but i dont want anybody to get in trouble for language now ^^

~Doomlight

http://i34.tinypic.com/33pad0k.jpg

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by aiskeriimu on 2009-02-22 06:55:48 (edited 2009-02-22 06:56:58)
"I'm not afraid."

The small figure of a boy was crouched in a corner of the room. His face was dirt-streaked and gaunt. He hadn't bathed in days. Hugging his rifle close to his body, repeated time and time again, "I'm not afraid."

Thunder roared outside, expressing it's displeasure. The boy tensed, grip tightening on his weapon. Sweat poured out of his pores, onto the floor. The boy squeezed his eyes together, willed himself to breathe in, then breathe out. "I'm not afraid."

The sound of gunfire resounded in the distance. And so it starts again. The young boy curled up. There was no stopping the tears now. He let them flow down his face, dripping freely, washing away the grime, forming white streaks in his blackened face. "I'm not afraid."

His voice was strained, forced. He knew it wasn't true. He was afraid. So, very scared. He could feel his heart thumping madly, like a beast flinging itself at it's cage, trying to break free. He sobbed harder, unable to contain himself. But yet, he still said the same thing, "I'm not afraid."

The rattling of the guns grew closer, ever closer. The boy drew in a quick breath. There was a bang, and the door to his room lay in pieces on the floor. The boy looked up, anything but shock in his eyes. He had expected it. He knew it was going to happen. Defiantly, he stood up and announced, "I'm not afraid."

His death was inevitable. He couldn't stop the bullets from flying at him. He had barely moved, after saying those very words, before bullets had struck him from all directions, throwing him around like a ragdoll. Yet, as he watched those things flying at him, he continued to hold on to his thought. "I'm not afraid..."

"At all."


That took a while to find. I hope you guys like it... I wrote it around a week ago. :D But I could have done better.

@Doomlight-san: Your story is nice~ I especially liked the beginning. Pencil and paper is good! My thoughts flow better when I'm writing like that. ._. Don't know 'bout anyone else though.

@Jon: CONTINUE IT. NAO. *_*

@ukissa-san: So cute... >w< "For a kindergarten, he does know how to talk smart." I laughed. XD

@Mokona: That seems pretty interesting. :D I agree with Doomlight-san, you don't have to be a good writer to write. JUST WRITE, and every thing will be alwriteright!


»»Everyone makes mistakes. The trick is to make mistakes when nobody is looking.«« Back. At last. ._.

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by karuzo on 2009-02-22 07:11:29 (edited 2009-02-22 07:15:26)
hi guys

I wanted to be writer but somehow I am afraid to show it due to lack of courage

this is the only finsihed product of my imagination.... the others are having some technical issues that needed to be resolved




On the city of Melodia there was a girl who was suffering from an incurable disease named Lyka, the doctors told her that she had only five years to live, which given up her hope to be a famous composer/pianist. One day while on the road she noticed an old house, in her curiosity she went inside and found a grand piano, she looked around to make sure that no one was around she played one of her beloved piece "Farewell Solitaire" but her disease struck her she always press the wrong key or halted by it, she continued to play it until her body can not handle further.

The next morning she found herself on a room where all sorts of flowers seen, she remembered that she passed out due to her disease. She heard a nice and beautiful music from a violin, she followed the source of the music until she was brought into the room where the grand piano is, not far from it there was a boy playing a violin she came closer, accidentally the bumped on the table and the books fell at the same time the violinist stopped and stared at the girl.


"I’m sorry, I don't mean to bother you" the girl apologized
"I've been waiting for you" the violinist said "Are you ok now?"
"Yes, but I don’t know how long” the girl replied in a low tone
"I see I liked your piece yesterday"
"Thank you that composition was masterpiece from my three years of patience, it was my one of my memorable piece I created, at that time I was not diagnosed by an incurable disease but now. Everything had changed now"
"But still you are alive you can pursue it, don’t waste you time, I can help you but if you want"

The girl was surprised about it, no one ever encourages her like that, and she realized that she wasted her time in thinking about her disease. She felt her heart pounding very fast.
I am Kizuna"
"I am Lyka"

From that day Lyka was given hope and changed her views in life. Days later Kizuna revealed that they share the same disease which given them to strive more. Although their sickness hindering them, their patience and goal in their life fueled their passion. Their compositions were filled with emotions and they kept it on their compilation book. Four years later had passed they lived happily together. They played their compositions to charities, in schools and in the hospital wards, they bring joy to everyone when they played their beloved masterpieces, even they know they will live short, they live to the fullest with joy and understanding, with care and hope. On their final composition, late afternoon

"The time has come my friend"
"I know, but I am not afraid anymore because..."

They looked each other, embraced and kissed themselves

"I love you Kizuna-san"
"I love you too Lyka- sama"

They looked at the window, as the sunset fades on the horizon the two lovers passed away with their faces full of joy and love. The next day on their burial their final composition was heard for the gratitude to the two youngest famous instrumental masters:


The Winter's Spring




Note: I became busy nowadays so the editing was halted

-->

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by slayer666 on 2009-02-22 09:09:04 (edited 2009-02-22 09:09:51)
@Jon: your story is really nice, keep writing~

@Ukissa: I love your story, Its like really cute.

@Mokona: You should figure out names since its kinda harder to read like that.

@Shiro: keeeeep writinggg you cant just stoppp

@Km.Revolution: try to keep your story on track while youre wrting it, its kinda jumping around.


Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by Doomlight on 2009-02-22 09:20:56
Top Post Edited To Allow People To Post Stuff That Is Not Short Stories :D ie. Poems, Umm other stuff, Fanfics and what not. But its best to read it anyways...where it says edit...its in bold if you cant tell.

~Doomlight

http://i34.tinypic.com/33pad0k.jpg

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by on 2009-02-22 09:21:10
Long Distance Relationships by Ichi

Sweaty palms,
First kisses,
Cupid's arrow that never misses.
Feeling up,
Feeling down,
This day goes without a frown.
Instant Messaging,
Late-night calls,
Photographs up on the wall.
At the park,
By the sea,
Imaginings of you and me.
Pen-pal letters,
Sharing sweets,
Maybe one day we'll finally meet.
Oh, time's up, I've G2G,
BRB, and baby, Adieu!
Don't forget that I love you.
-----cinnamonroll_437 has signed off.


END :D

I hope you guys like poetry. This is not perfect, but, oh well xD

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by slayer666 on 2009-02-22 09:26:09
@Ichi: thats really sweet! long distance-ness is hard but the way you put it makes it so pretty


Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by hikarinohikky on 2009-02-22 09:28:30
Doom linked me to this.

So here's a super short story I am writing right now for the lulz.

________________________________

Darling darling Rosetta, of what reason have your tears gone heavier than the rain at dusk?

Dear dear mother, my tears will be the last, for there will be no shrieks nor laughs echoed in this house tomorrow. And for the days that comes after. I am scared, dear mother. Can you hear the cackling razors and the weeping metals? Can you see right in front? For there is no good end for me, both my path of destiny leads to grief and only grief.

Are you afraid to face your destiny, my child? I have told you so, we are born to live, and we live to be dead at last. I have told you so, that you must not have tears over little scars on your legs. You must not have tears over grief in your coming days, for this life is too precious. And now you must stop crying, even if the end of time for you is reaching fast.

If my life is to be destined to be dead at last then why was I born, dear mother? Was it for feeling fears to my upcoming end? Was it to cry and feel powerless over the strength of destiny? Far far from joy have I felt all this life, dear mother, for I lived near to my death. For I know the end to all of those who lived.

Dear dear Rosetta, my precious; that is why you shall not cry for the grimmest fate. Life is too short, my darling; for the times should be filled with joy and memories, not fear and whines. Your fate on this path of destiny is now clear to you. But what about the other road? Scary and deceiving as it could be, there is still hope. And there will always be hope; as long as you lived.

My mother, the wisest whom taught me the values of living, I thank you so for your wisdom. There are truths in your words, I do not want to die, for the other deceiving and dangerous road lies just right in front of me, there is still hope; and I hope to live on to find more hopes to live. Dear dear mother, farewell to you as now I'll take all my courage to cross this dangerous road. I might die from the weight of annoyance or the ignorance of those others. But I do believe in hope, as for that and only that I could continued on to live.

The chosen path of yours, I cannot stop that. So long, Rosetta, may hope guide you for strength; and let it cast the grim fate away and away.

Little Rosetta trusted hope and with closed eyes, she crossed the busy busy road. Her mother was right behind, head down, for she knows that, even if there is hope, destiny is too powerful to be overpowered. Little Rosetta left her mother away and away from the Slaughter House, and with her little feet she crossed the might road, her yellow furs brushed by the cold angry wind from the cars. Rosetta was close to the other end. Too near. She saw a light, could be a light of hope, she was in joy after years of mournful days. Shea nearly------

SCREEEECCCCH

"Honey what's wrong?"
"I don't know. I thought I saw a chick so I turned on the headlight. Weird, there is nothing right in front."
"Baby chicken isn't it?"
"Oh, do you expect me to hit a babe instead?"
"Oh please, honey!"
"I'll reverse the car a bit, see if you could spot any stain."
"Yes dea---Oh Lord! Pity pity little chicken! Oh dear. . . "
"Oh geez, just like a splat of . . . meat smoothies?"

While at the other side of the road, a hen was placed on a wooden box, with its head outside. Mr Chicken Slaughterer raised his axe up high, he swung it down, fast and strong.

Is there still any hope?

Chomp.


_________________________________________________

Lol. What was I thinking? Chickens? I must've been really hungry! Nomnomnom, meat pie! 8D


Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by on 2009-02-22 09:31:51
Oh my gossssh. This thread is becoming very popular! :OOO

And D'aaaaaaawwww Hikky <3

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by Dark on 2009-02-22 09:32:19
Wow I want to join this : )
I'll just post my short story tomorrow since I was about to go to sleep :/
I'll talk about stuff tomorrow < D Sorry


Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by slayer666 on 2009-02-22 09:34:59
@Hikky: lol, Chickens? I didnt see that coming but sure, it was a nice story :3


Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by on 2009-02-22 10:01:49 (edited 2009-02-22 10:18:26)
I have a suggestion. Maybe we could list our club as a "guild". So like, "Writer's Guild"

It sounds professional and Renaissance/Medieval-ish, and that's where Shakespeare comes from, who is one of the greatest authors of all time :'D

ANnnnnnd, I made us these:





There we go :D

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by sharpenter27 on 2009-02-22 11:12:57
Hey, can I join? I'm one of those aspiring writers who have a bad case of writer's block. I s'pose joining this guild would help me with my writer's block.

Re: Writers Club/Guild
Link | by Doomlight on 2009-02-22 17:26:03
A random part in my story...the first post was the beginning of the story.

.....

"Convoy is moving out" yelled McKnight,

*Black hawks are lifting off* radioed the pilot,

As they lifted off over the convoy, Michael looked down to see the convoy moving towards the academy. During the 5 mins of travel, it was pure silence from all the club members. As Michael looked down again he saw the tanks and APCs ready to fire at the front buildings and roadblocks. Within a split second the tanks fired destroying the buildings and roadblocks.

* This Is McKnight, Convoy is splitting off into the 3 operations *,

* This is Super 2-1, were over the target area, dropping down chalk *,

* This is Adrian 5-1, were over the target area, Ropes *

As the ropes dropped down towards the grass, Michael looked up at the midnight sky to see it so beautifully close that it reminded him of what he was doing. As Nao and Samantha went down first, Kari and Michael prepared to drop down after they hit the ground. As they reached the ground they went into covering positions for them to drop, Kari went down first, but as Michael watched Kari drop down, Michael became scared to rope down. Everybody in the military club remembered that Michael fell on a practice run under fire. Michael received a broken arm and leg from landing in the tree but it could have been much worst for Michael. As Michael prepared to rope down, a person came out of the tree line with a rocket type weapon.

"RPG, Right Side" yelled the crewchief,

" Hold On " Yelled the pilot.

As they moved the blackhawk to the left, Michael let go of the rope, taking him off the blackhawk. As Michael freefalled staring up at the Blackhawk dodging the shell, Kari was still roping down. As Kari saw Michael freefalling, she attempted to reach out to Michael but was out of reach. Nao and Samantha looked up and started casting spells. Michael got closer and closer to the ground but he slowed down considerably. As Michael stopped a foot off the ground, Michael tried to recover from the fall.

* This is Adrian 5-1 we are clear, Michael hope your alright, Crewchiefs, Return Fire *,

" Contact 3 O'Clock " yelled the crewchief,

* Moving Out, Good Luck, Out *

As the blackhawk left, the group started moving towards the catholic shrine that was outside the church. Surrounded by trees they continued to walk. As they moved closer and closer they came under fire from all directions. The group hit the ground and returned fire with paint ball shells.

" Return FIRE " yelled Nao,

" We gotta move " replied Michael while returning fire,

" Call Air support, they knew we were coming ",

" This is Adrian 2-1, Requesting close air support on our position " yelled Michael into the radio,

* This is Frontier 4-1, Roger that, we owe you guys one * replied Frontier 4-1,

As the AH-64 started firing at the treeline, the group started started running towards the shrine whenever possible.

" Kari, Samantha, with me, Michael Cover us " yelled Nao over the fire,

* This is Frontier 4-1 were RTB to rearm and refuel * radioed Frontier 4-1,

" Roger That Frontier 4-1 " replied Nao into the radio.

As Samantha, Kari and Nao started looking for the entrance, Michael waited, looking around in the silent battlefield, trees broken down and the wounded trying to tend to there injuries. As the smoke raised from the shell holes, Michael saw a figure approaching, from Michael's point of view it looked like a women with long hair and a katana. Michael realized who this was.

" Guys, you might wanna hurry up " yelled Michael behind him,

" Why " asked Kari,

" I don't feel like being killed again ",

As they started rushing to open the secret door with magic, Michael got his radio and changed the channel,

" Requesting Close Air Support, Danger Close, Target is advancing towards us " yelled Michael into the radio,

* This is Frontier 4-2 we are supporting other operations at this time *,

* This is Deadly 3-1, AC-130 gunship on station, firing all salvos at target *.

As the AC-130 fired into the clouds, the shells went as fast speeds hitting the ground at a high rate of speed. As they hit the ground a huge explosion occured taking away the ground and causing a huge ball of smoke to rise. But as the smoke dissipated there was nothing there.

* Adrian 2-1, Look Up! *

Michael looked up to see the person up in the air heading towards them. Michael opened fire hitting the person every time with the paintball shells. They broke a part because of the sword but the paint stayed on the sword. As Michael jumped out of the way landing on his side. The person (also known as toko-sensei (shhhhhh i know its from negima)) landed on her feet facing towards the three opening the entrance. Michael fired again hitting Toko-sensei in the head with a red paintball shell. She turned around and what to seemed to be a relaxed face was actually a firey anger towards Michael,

" Guys, Hurry up, I won't live much longer now " yelled Michael while trying to stand up.

As Michael stood up, Toko-sensei disappeared into thin air and appeared in front of Michael. Michael tried to turn and run but as Toko-Sensei disappeared again, Michael found himself with a sword at his neck while his hand was on the radio. ...

Remember guys this a rough draft, and i did editing on the go while i typed this.

~Doomlight

http://i34.tinypic.com/33pad0k.jpg

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