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Forum Index > Other Fiction > Writing til I Run Out of Brain Juice
Page 1  
Author Thread Post
Wastedpoodle
Level 71
The Kind-Hearted
Joined: 5/17/2018
Threads: 38
Posts: 1,514
Posted: 9/11/2022 at 12:13 AM Post #1
Like the subject says, I just write what I can until I cant think of anything else to put down. Ive been out of the game too long, so I figured this might be a fun way to get back into it

Rules (for myself and accountability):
1) No editing posted posts. If theres an excerpt I wrote that I think I can improve/add on to, I can copy/paste or quote, but no just editing a post (may be subject to some flexibility if edit regards grammar/spelling rather than altering style/story beats/an entire paragraph or so)
2) Must have a plot in mind before writing. No stream-of-consciousness go with the flow stuff, think before you ink
3) No characters belonging to other properties. All original. May be characters from other stories in this thread
4) One story at least once a week
(rules subject to change)

That being said

Story One
Primary focus: Show, dont tell

Oriana stared up at the cold stars. Beneath her, the snow bit through the plush fabrics of her cloak, dress, and undershirts. Several paces away, she heard Raiden and Karolek laugh and throw pinecones into the fire. She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, fighting the sting that crept into them. How could they be so jovial now, when they were forced to go a second night with almost nothing to eat? She rested a hand on her stomach in a weak attempt to quiet its complaints as the tears fell away down her cheeks. The ones that didnt escape her face froze in their tracks. Shed have to peel them off before-

Hey Ria, whatcha up to? Karolek plopped next to her with a crunch, sitting upright. She bolted up next to him, peeling the salty crystals away. She tried to turn to hide her actions, but Raiden sat on the other side of her. She tried to look nonchalant instead, staring forward and forcing as neutral an expression as she could.. Karolek frowned. Do dyou have allergies, too? Oriana looked up at Karoleks red, watery eyes, a result of the furs he and Raiden had to wear to keep warm. They didnt have the layers of coats and undershirts that she had, and had to resort to thick hides to fight the cold. If you do, we can go back over to the firetil ya feel better.

Raiden had leaned forward, creeping into the edge of Orianas vision. Whereas Karolek sat one knee pointed skyward and the other leg flattened, hands splayed behind and buried in the snow in a sort of lounging fashion, and Oriana sat with her legs crossed beneath her dress skirt, he sat with his legs tight to his chest, arms resting on top of his knees. Aro, I dont think thats a kind of allergy cry, he said softly.

Karolek tilted his head, then his eyes widened and he sat up straighter. Oh oh, Ria.

Its nothing, Oriana muttered through her teeth. Im fine.

(I got tired here and abruptly went to bed. Will likely try to continue this)
Wastedpoodle
Level 71
The Kind-Hearted
Joined: 5/17/2018
Threads: 38
Posts: 1,514
Posted: 9/20/2022 at 11:47 PM Post #2
(ignore that i goofed last week lol)

Okay back into it

Story 2
Primary focus: just write


I sit in the cold room, the windows dark outside. A blanket of night has fallen over the world, but it is not quiet or still. Insects cry out for companionship, and the wind whips together whatever it can in a percussive and foreboding chorus. The house I sit in is not calm or quiet either; between the snoring of dogs and humans, the slow march of the minute hands about the clock faces, and the low hum of appliances hard at work, the vents rattle in their fight to churn out a bitter chill, combated only by a shield of cotton, polyester, and a lack of consciousness.

But still, I am conscious. Very much aware, yet at the same time, lost in a haze of miserable drowsiness. Even this would be tolerable if my skin weren't crawling. If the vents would stop piercing me with needles of frost. If my arms wouldn't stretch outward ever longer and the keyboard cease to grow exponentially larger in size. If I could sort out just who I was and where I am in reality at this very moment. If I could calm the compulsion to move about and busy myself as if on the run, if I could go without freezing to listen at every little change in the noise around me.

I know I have no reason to be scared. I am safe. There is nothing here. But even saying that feels like a lie, no matter how true it is. They scare me. They bring the cold, they bring the light, they bring the incessant and maddening drone. Some humanoid in appearance, some robotic, some presenting themselves as massive insects. The lights about me, they speak to me, warning me of their arrival. I wonder if they take glee in my panic and desperation. I feel the eyes on me now. Cold and dead. Robots tonight. I hear them scraping and tapping at the vents. I want to hide but nowhere is safe. I don't want to move and come upon the place they hide but they'll catch me if I don't. I already feel their claws on my neck.

I want to hide from them in a dream. I want to emerge in the daylight, whole and safe and sane. It feels impossible right now. I want to cry, but my tears would conceal them from my sight. I want to wake up from this nightmare.

They came in the window. I don't want to look.

Help me.

i think this one's done. very much based on my actual experience in the moment. i'm fine tho lol
Wastedpoodle
Level 71
The Kind-Hearted
Joined: 5/17/2018
Threads: 38
Posts: 1,514
Posted: 9/26/2022 at 7:57 PM Post #3
Story Three
Primary focus: Raider, my beloved <3

My little sunshine, your vibrant colors fade and your joy has burnt out. Your energy spent, I watch you dim, all my efforts to feed your spark and keep you burning were in vain. Here you suffer in front of me as I frantically cling to your final rays of warmth. I'm desperate to keep you with me, though I know it is selfish.

I hate to see you in pain, little light. The you I knew is gone and now I must face a goodbye, so soon, so sudden. Do you know love? Do you know why I tried to save you? To love something so much, that cannot love back. To know the sun brings light, but it will never know. Did you know joy while in my care, little star?

Do you know why I sing to you, my little comet? Do you know comfort? I hope you don't, for it can only mean you feel pain and despair in these final moments. Yet, as you lay gasping for relief, I know you must feel something. I hope it is only an instinct, little meteor. I hope you don't know why you struggle.

I lie awake for you, little flame. I lie awake and dream of your rescue from the rains that torment you. I lie awake tortured by the thought of losing you. I lie awake to be there for your last moments. You should not have to suffer alone, little spark. I wish you could know what it meant that I was with you. I wish you knew how much I love you.

It's time to sleep, little ember. I hope you sleep, so you don't have to comprehend the darkness beyond. I hope you awake in a world without this suffering. I hope you can understand how I love you, and why I cry. I feed the last of your glow, but I know you are already gone. Goodbye, my little one.
Wastedpoodle
Level 71
The Kind-Hearted
Joined: 5/17/2018
Threads: 38
Posts: 1,514
Posted: 12/8/2022 at 7:59 PM Post #4
Story Four
Primary focus: literally just write

There are two other people in my head, my other selves. Not literal people or identities, but stories and characters I am always writing, who give me guidance.

The first is a girl I call Ana. She wants to change her name. In high school, she had a boyfriend on the football team and was friends with many of the so-called popular kids. She was almost like a pet to them. She wasn't fulfilled by these relationships, because she never realized who she was. She was too busy trying to survive. Ana's grandparents protected her father and silenced her and her little sibling every time they went to school with bruises. In middle school, she realized how serious her situation was and finally took action. Ana was taken from her father, she and her sibling were put into foster care, she fought to protect both of them through everything despite being so young. That's why I tell her story. Her strength. She is not real, but I imagine she could have been if that villainous father of hers hadn't perished years ago. I found her in the bleachers across the way at a football game, cheering on that boyfriend of hers, smiling, laughing, and dancing to the marching band with her friends. When she looked at me, alone, brooding, unable to buy a snack for my sibling, I could feel her repulsion. Compared to her, I'm weak. I can barely care for myself, let alone my sibling. I am pathetic, and her story, the way her face shot daggers through my heart, reminds me every day.

The other I call Narcissus. He goes by E, but only when he wants to be perceived as particularly mysterious. He is my unbridled narcissism and egocentrism, the embodiment of rage, manipulation, and a hunger for power. Perhaps he is simply a way to distance myself from what I feel, a desperate attempt to humanize the monster in my reflection. He is the one to press hard on the gas pedal and bring swift justice upon drivers he does not approve of. He is the one to lash out and beat others into the grave with his tongue, to shove their heads under the water and ensure they are beneath him. He is the one to go behind the backs of those above him and burn their world to ash, to watch them crumble before him. Maybe in some ways, he is an escape or an outlet. Moreso, he is a warning. I did not give my dear friend Narcissus the gift of foresight, one that I possess. Day after day, he makes the same impulsive mistakes. Day after day, I see the consequences play out, the money and time and life it costs him. Day after day, I reset his world just to make him go through those same scenarios. He keeps me in check.

I wonder if it's cruel to put them through such suffering. If there's a god, is it possible we are the same sort of fragments of some higher, more complex being, created in its mind to teach it how to be? Does it dream of cruelty to teach itself not to be cruel? Does it dream of death as a means to accept it, or face its own fear of it? Two worlds have I created, and I have given the scattered ideas of caricatures inside a destiny and a purpose. Are writers not gods of the things they create? This godhood is so very tiring. I'd give it up if I didn't need it to keep myself sane.
Wastedpoodle
Level 71
The Kind-Hearted
Joined: 5/17/2018
Threads: 38
Posts: 1,514
Posted: 12/11/2022 at 12:53 AM Post #5
Story Five
Primary focus: procrastinate on schoolwork

it gets kinda weird, just a heads-up

Lord Bainbridge stood before me, his perfectly white teeth glinting in the glow of the streetlamps. The fire inside them made his eyes an orangey-red. He looked like some kind of animal. I felt my heart drop at the metallic scrape of his sword leaving its sheath. Not this, not now.... "Come on, you revolting vermin," he spat. "You think you have what it takes to protect this land? Then prove it." He slashed his sword through the air and pointed it at me.

"My Lord, please, this is not--"

"I am not your Lord," he hissed, creeping toward me with long, smooth strides. "You don't belong here. You should have drowned in that sea you call home. Why some riffraff like you would think you have any right polluting my town, I'll never know. But know this," he said. He was close enough I felt the need to begin pacing backward; I rested my hand on one of my daggers, but I knew I couldn't really use it against him. The last thing I needed was an assassination attempt on my record. "That scar you wear will brand you forever. Your wanted posters are on display from here to the westmost edges of this kingdom. No matter where you run, you'll never hide from what you are."

"Lord Bainbridge, please!" Panic made my voice rise sharply. Spittle might have flown from my mouth were it not dry from the raw fear that threatened to tear my chest open. The lanterns around us painted a fiery halo around his head and glared off of his raised sword. He was an angel of death before me, the living embodiment of rage and hatred, and for the first time his words struck me, deeper than his blade could ever reach. "I... I was born here... I just wanted to come home," I said, pleading.

"Home? You forfeited your place here when you ran off to burn down villages and steal valuables with the other rats you called friends. Did you think mummy and daddy would want to take back some looting vagabond? You're as worthless to them as you are to anyone else in this country." My back hit the wall of a building behind me. The impact was carried to the very ends of my extremities. I felt my legs go numb. My breath hastened as I saw his eyes flash wildly. I couldn't hide my horror. With another step, he held his sword, prepared to strike. Beneath my cloak, I quickly drew my dagger. "Farewell, pirate," he said with a vicious smile. "Give my regards to the devil."

He slashed his sword towards my neck. I flung my dagger into a parry. The blow was enough to knock my weapon from my hand, and likely leave a bruise. I dove after my blade. He had immediately recovered from the knockback, but my maneuver left him with nothing but the ends of my hair to cut through. After a tight tuck and roll to collect the fallen dagger, I leapt to my feet and ran. Bainbridge's heavy boots thudded behind me.

I got the urge to cry out for aid, but who would help a criminal? In that moment more than ever, I wished I still had my parents there. Tears pricked my eyes. The boots grew closer. I dared not look back and reveal my weakness.

I yelped in pain as his blade tore through my shoulder and back. I stumbled and he caught my arm, pulling me back against him, sword at my throat. "Done running, rat?" he huffed into my ear.

"S-stop," I stuttered. I knew I had no choice. I had only one more trick up my now torn and blood-soaked sleeve. "I... I-I'm getting... e-excited."

His silence weighed heavy in the cool night air.

i wasn't proud, but I choked out each word like my life depended on it. "You know... I-I'm s-s-sorry, it's... it's just--"

The sword disappeared and I was thrown forward. "Shut up," he muttered. I scrambled up to crouch, being sure to hide my ruse behind a thigh and an arm. The pain from the gash radiated to my elbow, neck, and lower back. At the rate I was bleeding, it was possible I would faint in minutes if I exerted myself. I couldn't fight him like this, and I certainly couldn't scare him out of touching me forever.

I squinted pointedly as he prepared to strike again. "Heh, looks like... you l-liked it, too?" I smiled at him sheepishly. I wanted to vomit.

His face contorted in anger, confusion, and repulsion all at once and he checked himself before unleashing a flurry of insults that whizzed past my head. I had gained another few seconds' relief. Now what... now what...? This can't be it. I watched his reddened face, spit flying from his mouth as he readied the final blow. Were those really going to be my last words, my legacy? I closed my eyes, my mind racing.

An explosion shook us both. We stared in the direction of the disturbance and watched a ball of fire and ash rise above the rooves of the town's houses. We looked back to each other. "Th-they're here," he whispered. I nodded. He stood as if frozen in place, mouth agape, looking from me to the plumes of smoke billowing upward, sword grasped firmly in both hands.

Seizing the opportunity, I called him back from his stupor. "Enemy of my enemy?"

He looked me in the eye for several moments, weighing his desires and the dire circumstances surrounding him. With a final scowl, he nodded, grunted, and took a step back. I sprang up, then fell back to a knee as a wave of dizziness struck me. Shaking it off as best I could, I got back to my feet and led the way to the area of concern. I stumbled again as my vision darkened, but Bainbridge grabbed the collar of my cape and half dragged me onward.

We turned the corner and came face to face with half a dozen soot-covered faces howling with laughter, a family sobbing in a huddle at their feet and fearful neighbors peering from locked windows. I suddenly realized how stupid of an idea this was. Bainbridge would have to take on this gaggle of Harbingers on his own.
Wastedpoodle
Level 71
The Kind-Hearted
Joined: 5/17/2018
Threads: 38
Posts: 1,514
Posted: 12/14/2022 at 9:03 PM Post #6
Story Six

Primary focus: mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

A lock on the door would make all the difference, some assurance I had a space of my own. A place to hide and slip into a world where I felt safe and loved. A lock on the door would seal that world away and I'd finally allow myself rest from the anxiety that creeps up my spine at every footstep I feel in the floor.

My mouth has a very special lock. It seals away my every thought in a way this room never could. I hide all I can't say inside, where it's safe. Like an electric fence, it hurts all who come near. It's a pity, watching her touch the fence and flinch at the sting, but I feel no guilt. She's the reason my head is the only place I have left to protect, my last line of defense against the world.

She digs at my head. Every day, she tries to get deeper. She grows angrier at every little sting. She wants me to let her in. I know she'll hurt me if I let her inside. I know I'll hurt me if I let her inside. I wish she'd put her claws away and leave me in the one place I have any solitude.

She claims I let others in with friendly conversation. The same small talk I make to her, but she takes such offense. How dare I let others into my secret world? Yet I allow none in. She wants me to feel bad. She wants in. I cannot allow that.

How I wish there was a lock on this door so I could hide. I could cry freely without fear. I could engage in hobbies without interruption. Drift gently through my thoughts without rushing to toss them back behind the lock at a moment's notice.

How freeing to be locked inside. How ironic that sounds!
 
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