> > Howdy ya'll. So I saw this, and thought "hey, > this might be a chance to get a couple of opinions > on my short story..." So here it is... It's a bit > long, but I hope ya'll like it. > > > Really good story. If you want to be really picky > there's 2 or 3 very little things you can change but > besides that it's good. Been a couple of days since I > read it so I can't remember what they were but it's > nothing serious.
Yeah, this is the raw unedited version. Actually, I turned it in for an English grade, and got full credit on it, but I edited it afterward and am in the process of revising it. Thanks for the input though, mate. It is much appreciated. A.A.
-- "Don't ever back down... Don't ever turn around... My end has come, so now I come for you."
This is a poem I wrote in math class PLEASE tell me what u think
All you have is now Life is a process of individual moments And all we can do is learn to perfect the art of now Seeing the infinity of every waking moment Seeing the divinity of each moment The power of life and existense Lose your own perceptions and see the true bliss of the universe and nature All is as it should be And life is a perfect and beautiful thing
> Howdy ya'll. So I saw this, and thought "hey, this might be a chance to get a couple of opinions on my short story..." So here it is... It's a bit long, but I hope ya'll like it. >
Really good story. If you want to be really picky there's 2 or 3 very little things you can change but besides that it's good. Been a couple of days since I read it so I can't remember what they were but it's nothing serious.
-- I Didn't Do It !
The coolest lil kid on this site. Not just a lil kid no more Now I'm just a lil bit immature. Not a brat pack member, I'm the original BRAT ! Man,I get blamed for evrything around here!
Hey, I haven't posted much, but here is a poem a wrote for English literature last year.
Some pity the dead, others those that are handicapped, But I don't, I pity everyone else, Maybe it's because I know how hard life can be, Or maybe it's because I know the true meaning of pain, Or just maybe it's because I realize that everyone struggles like I do, And only the dead, and those of us who have a handicap above all normal difficult can truly be at peace, Because only through true pain can anyone find true happiness.
-- Russ Loves music, always playing the the 'bone or tuba Loves football, starting outside LB Incontinent since July, DON'T try cliff diving if you don't know what your doing
Here is where most people begin to think I went insane that night. As soon as I registered what the words said, I made a break for the door, only to realize that it was not there. I don’t mean to say that I simply forgot where it was, but that it was completely and utterly gone. “You can’t get out,” said a small, innocent-sounding voice behind me. Even this voice scared me. I jumped and turned around at the same time, expecting to see the cat talking to me, but when I looked, there was no one there. “Over here,” said the voice, this time to my right. I turned and looked only to see a little girl in a flower dress with, what can only be said to be “poufy” sleeves. “What do you mean I can’t get out?” I asked her. “There has to be a way out.” “Not if he doesn’t want you to leave,” she said. “You will stay here forever if he wants it; just like me.” My legs started to give way at this point. “So I’m stuck here,” I said, stumbling over to the stairs. “Who is this man, anyway? The one that’s keeping us here?” I asked politely. “Nobody here knows his name. He doesn’t talk, but just points to where he wants us,” she said. “Wait, there are more of you here?” I asked. “Are you all children?” “No,” she replied. “Some of us are adults, and some used to be adults.” “What happened to the ones who used to be adults?” I asked. “They ended up like her,” she said, pointing to the cat. “But I don’t know what he wants with you. There has never been another man that he has kept in the house. He has always let them go,” said the little girl. I put my head in my hands. Go figure… I thought to myself… I’ve got to be the one that stands out in the group. I’ve got to be the one who gets to stay… “What’s your name, little girl?” I asked. “My name is…” she stopped in mid sentence, as if to listen to something. Suddenly, my candle was blown out, and I heard a sharp intake of breath from the little girl. “He’s coming!” she said. “He’s coming for you! Come with me, and I can keep you safe!” she said, grabbing my hand. She led me up the stairs, and into a room that looked as if a tornado had blown through it. She then opened the closet and began to walk in to it, but she stopped abruptly and began to back up. I immediately saw what made her recoil. A tall figure with a tuxedo walked out of the closet. He had to be in his mid to late 80’s with pale skin and a large tattoo of a tiger paw on the side of his face. He began to point furiously from the little girl to the hallway outside. She instantly complied and, tripping in her haste, went back into the hallway. I backed up, away from the man and into the hallway, only to find that he was gone. I turned around, with hopes of finding the little girl again, but I only found the worst thing that I could possibly have imagined. The man was there, looking down at me, glaring really. He pulled out a large knife which I recognized at once as the knife used to kill the cat earlier that night. Very quickly I turned away from him and ran in the direction I thought the stairs were in. I was wrong. Soon after beginning my escape, I found myself face-to-face with a wall. Knowing that I couldn’t turn back, I tried to open one of the doors on either side of me. Only one would budge, and I soon found myself in a small room with a small bed, on which sat a maid. “Oh, dear,” she said. “You shouldn’t have come to this house. There is no way out until dawn. Nobody ever survives that long here,” she finished. “Unless you get some help, you will end up just like the rest of us.” “What do you mean just like the rest of you?” I asked. “Well,” she started, “we’re all dead.” My heart sank at the thought. “So I’m going to die here?” I asked. “Not if I can help it,” she replied. “Come with me.” She stood up and grabbed me by the wrist, leading me out of the room. She quickly shoved me in a recess behind a large vase and motioned for me to be silent; so silent I was, though it was extremely hard. The man came down the hallway at a deliberate pace, using even steps, even though you could tell he was agitated. It was at this point the maid intervened. “He went that way, Master,” she said. “Right into my quarters.” He nodded and pushed by her, hurrying his pace a little, and she came over to me. “Get into the little girl’s closet. That is the only place you will be safe until dawn,” she said. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you so much…” she waved me on and turned around to watch for the man. I came out of the recess, knocking into the vase and causing it to fall and break. The noise it made was enough to shatter teeth. I knew that I had no time, so I turned and began to run as fast as I could toward the little girl’s room. But as suddenly as I reached the door to her room, I heard a thud, followed by a ripping noise. The old man had thrown the hunting knife, and caught me by my pant leg. Unfortunately, I lost my balance as I was turning into the room, the door of which was very close to the stairs, and fell. I hit the floor and rolled onto the stairs. From there, everything is a blur. I remember seeing the little girl’s face, the maid’s, the cat on the banister, alive, and even the old man’s face as I fell down the stairs, head over heels. I remember that I landed on my back, and looked up at the ceiling thinking: Is this how death is going to come to me? Because of a stupid dare? If so, let my friends suffer too; because they’re the ones that talked me into it. And then, as suddenly as the thought came to me, I was plunged into darkness.
Ende
-- "Don't ever back down... Don't ever turn around... My end has come, so now I come for you."
“Well, well, well. You didn’t chicken out after all. I figured you’d be at home hiding in the closet, man,” said Roger, the one who had originally dared me to do it. “Aw, be quiet ya' jer...” I was interrupted by a loud “HEY! NO! DON’T START THAT!” coming from my other friend Frank. “So, you ready chicken?” asked Roger with resentment in his voice. “I was born ready,” I replied. “Good,” said Roger. “That means you get to go inside. Now once you’re in, we’ll shut the door, and won’t come back until tomorrow. Got it?” “Yeah, I got it,” I replied. So there we were, three juniors in high school, ascending the front pathway and stairs to this house which was, no doubt, the most pitiful sight I had ever seen. It was once inside, that I realized that, pitiful as it might have looked, this house was more… unique… than any other house I had been in. As if to keep their word, as soon as I was in the house my friends shut the door on me, and left me in nearly complete darkness until morning. I realized, now that I was inside, that the widows were boarded up, and barely any light could enter through them. The light that did, however, enter the house, allowed me to see quite clearly once my eyes had adjusted. In the middle of the first chamber – the veranda, as it is sometimes called – there was a large pillar rising up and into (and probably past) the ceiling. Off to the right was a large, wide staircase with, what could only be a decorative railing. There was a door leading off to the right, presumably into the living room, but I never got around to going through it. As soon as I got inside, and took in the dank sights that lay before me, I set down my duffle bag and pulled out the candle and matches. I struck a match and lit the candle wick, and immediately began searching for a good place to “set up camp” for the night. I decided on a small recess on just the other side of the stairs, at the end of which was some kind of closet. I put my sleeping bag there, and then proceeded to find the kitchen to cook my dinner. Finding the kitchen took me no time at all. Finding the stove IN the kitchen, however, took me forever. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust, which made seeing anything on the counter impossible. After fifteen minutes of sweeping dust off of the counter, and sneezing until I thought my eyes were going to pop out, I finally found the stove and, with the matches, lit a gas burner. About thirty minutes after I had found the stove, I was sitting down to eat my food. As soon as I had begun to cook the vegetables, I realized that I would have a problem eating. I had no silverware. I finally, though it was against my better judgment, resolved to use the knife as a fork and a knife. So it was with a hunting knife that I ate my dinner. But I did not eat alone, as one might think someone would in an abandoned house. As I was peacefully eating my shrimp in the veranda, I herd a soft “mew” from behind me. Now, in any other circumstance, I would normally try and make myself look better, but I’m not going to lie this time… That cat scared the CRAP out of me. I jumped probably three feet in the air when it mewed, and when I looked around to see what it was that had scared me so bad, I dropped my food all over the floor. “Stupid cat,” I whispered under my breath, walking off to find a broom to clean up the food with, leaving the hunting knife and the pot there. Remember this point, it becomes extremely important in the next few minutes. This took me a while. I thought that the broom might be in the pantry, so I went to look there…. I knew where it was from having seen it earlier when I was cooking. As I approached the door, I noticed that it had been nailed shut with nails much too large to hang pictures with. So I continued my search elsewhere. I moved to the middle of the house, where whole rooms were covered in spider webs. Those same rooms, I have to say, are the ones that I never went back into again. Next I tried the part of the house furthest from the road. There is where I found what I needed. The broom was in, what appeared to be, a maid’s closet and quarters; but don’t quote me on that. As I was walking back to the spot where the cat had given me the fright of my life, I heard this low growling noise, followed by a hiss; then, silence. I thought nothing of it… That was, until I reached the spot where I had left the cat, and the food. I picked up the pot, which I had been eating out of, and set it on the bottom stair, and then looked around for the hunting knife I had been using as a fork. It wasn’t there. I knew I left it there; but it wasn’t there. It was then, that for the second time that night, the cat scared the living crap out of me. But this time, it wasn’t the cat’s fault. Out of nowhere, a giant ball of fur came flying out from behind me, knocking over the pot on the stairs, and jumping up onto the wall. The only problem is, that same giant ball of fur didn’t come down from the wall. Instead, it kind of levitated there. At least, that’s what I thought it was doing at the time. As I looked closer at it, I realized that the hunting knife that I was looking for, the same one that I had left on the floor next to the food and the pot, was stabbed straight through the cat’s midsection, and into the wall. A drip of the cat's red plasma began dripping from the it, and I began to show the first signs of panic. My worries were not short lived, however. As I walked closer to the cat, something seemed to appear on the wall above it. It was then that I realized that I was doomed. In blood red letters (I’m not entirely unconvinced that it wasn’t the cat’s blood) appeared the following words. “You’re Next.”
-- "Don't ever back down... Don't ever turn around... My end has come, so now I come for you."
Howdy ya'll. So I saw this, and thought "hey, this might be a chance to get a couple of opinions on my short story..." So here it is... It's a bit long, but I hope ya'll like it. I'll break it up into three or so pieces so it ain't too long...
The House
Darkness: that was the only thing that I saw that night that felt comforting to me. I had been searching throughout the entire house for most of the night, trying to find something to protect myself with, though I don’t know why. Did I expect to kill whatever was in that house? The better question is, did I expect to make it out alive? The answer to both questions is no. This whole thing started around Halloween, when everyone is convinced that there is “witching” and “haunting” going on. Don’t call me a skeptic, I’m not. I’ve always believed in the paranormal. I guess at this point in my life, my junior year in high school, that I found myself in a state of – for lack of a better phrase – lessened awareness. This, I suppose, is why when my friends offered me 500 dollars to sleep in the local “haunted” house for one night, I jumped on the opportunity. It was to be done the Saturday right before Halloween. My parents would be out of town, and wouldn’t be back until late Sunday evening, so it was the safest time to do it. Besides, I thought to myself, I’m seventeen: practically an adult. I should be able to do whatever I want. And so the date was set for the Saturday directly before Halloween. The agreement between my friends and I was that I would be allowed very few supplies. And it was, with this agreement in mind, that at four o’clock that Saturday afternoon, I packed a duffle bag full of the mutually approved items. The list of items was as follows: a dinner meal, which was a pound of shrimp and some stew vegetables, and a pot to cook it in. I was also allowed matches, a candle, a hunting knife to “protect” myself with, and a sleeping bag. With these items, I should have been able to make it through the night unhindered… Remember that word: should. At five thirty I left the house with my bag full of items, and headed toward the house. It was about a half a mile away, and would take me about fifteen minutes to arrive. Before I go any further, I think I should tell you about the supposed history of this house. My grandmother had once said that “That house, in my glory days, was as beautiful as the Sistine Chapel. But one day, it seemed as if in an instant, the trees died and the grass withered. There was a distinct aura, like a heavy, dark fog that surrounded the house. People would look at it and feel despair, or death. It is evil. Don’t ever go near that house.” But I thought nothing of it. The trees were still there, and they kept growing. What I had always failed to notice, until now, is that they never grew leaves. They were a dank color that reminds me of an overhanging cloud. They were dead. So it was on that day, the day that I spent the night in that house, the day I did not heed my grandmother’s warning, that I realized the things that were so subtle about the house, which proved that it was evil. That is a day that I wish had never come. Now I come to the unbelievable part of my autobiography of this night. The part in which many people laugh, and say that I am simply insane. The “insanity” begins as I approach the house. Walking around the corner on the block the house was on was relatively easy. I wasn’t in the best of shape, but I was still in better-than-average shape, and a quarter-mile walk wasn’t going to hurt me all that bad. As I approached the house, however, my feet started getting heavier, and my breathing shallower. The temperature of the air dropped, and so did my heart rate. But other than that, nothing seemed all that wrong. I simply dismissed it on the weight I was carrying with the pot in my duffle bag, and approached my friends who were already standing at the front gate of the house.
-- "Don't ever back down... Don't ever turn around... My end has come, so now I come for you."
AS SHE LAY THERE IN THE BED AS I WAIT FOR THE DOCTOR SHE SAYS NO TIME FOR WAITING FOR THE FUTURE ITS ABOUT THE PRESENT THAT MAKES LIFE.....AS SHE GASPS FOR HER LAST BREATH SHE PASSES AWAY
Amphibian Prince A homeless Canadian girl was staying alone in a church. A Bible salesman came along and was trying to sell her a Bible with gold trim complete study guide. Seeing that she was alone, he said, "I'll give you this one free in exchange for a kiss." She said, "No." And he started chasing her around the church. As it turned out, she wasn't alone. A handsome toad is sitting on a window ledge and seeing her predicament, leaps onto the Bible saleman's neck and down his shirt, terrifying him, so that he runs away. The toad drops onto the floor, where suddenly he is transformed into a handsome young prince. This often happens to toads, who perform good deeds. The girl is so greatful that she invites him upstairs. She didn't know it, but he had wanted to know her for months. Right away, he said, "Let's no." She said, "No." But he took that to mean yes. Before she knew it they were knowing, until all was known. The handsome young prince was terribly confused. A while ago, he was an amphibian, and now in just a few minutes, he had become human and had the greatest experience of his life. The girl decides to go away with the young prince and marry him and live happily ever after, she guesses.
-- Name: Joey Wets night, occasional day accidents Favorite Bands: AC/DC, Metallica, Jimi Hendrix, Smashing Pumpkins, Green Day, Ozzy Osbourne, Guns N' Roses, Evanescence, Blink 182, 3 Doors Down, The White Stripes, Muse, Disturbed, Rage Against The Machine, Black Sabbath, and Megadeth.
-- Name: Joey Wets night, occasional day accidents Favorite Bands: AC/DC, Metallica, Jimi Hendrix, Smashing Pumpkins, Green Day, Ozzy Osbourne, Guns N' Roses, Evanescence, Blink 182, 3 Doors Down, The White Stripes, Muse, Disturbed, Rage Against The Machine, Black Sabbath, and Megadeth.
