Fan Fics, Original Fiction, and Fantasy

Hey guys. It's your neighborhood friendly Co-mod. What do I want? I wanna see some original fan fiction from all you people, or just silly scifi stories. They don't have to make sense, they don't need good grammer, and they can be as long, or as short as you like them to be. (Note: If something is posted and its 10 pages long, I will delete it. Link it to your site, or ask me to post it on mine)

What kind of fan fics do I wanna see? Farscape, SG1, Final Fantasy, etc. Anything goes. Write a short scifi story... Ask other people to comment on it! BE CREATIVE!

 

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I think I'll post Ship's Log, I'm not much of a fan of fan fiction, so, this is what I've got. I don't think I posted it on sciforums. It's fifteen pages long, so I hope you don't mind the slight break in length limit, counsler.


14:25
5-16-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
I just cannot get enough of this zero g. It’s going to be a few more hours before the rest of the crew get the artificial stuff working, and since I have no technical knowledge of this spacecraft I have delegated my time to studying the acrobatics one can perform while not anchored to the ground. I left the NASA Wheel about a day ago with my two crew companions; I had spent about a week there after lifting off from Cape Canaveral on a beautiful Friday morning. I managed to get a vid of it from the ground. It was incredible. Watching a transport’s blue tail pass through a thin veil of sun-scarred clouds has made me feel like a bit of a poet rather than “the scientist” as I’m sure my fellows refer to me as. The Wheel itself was fairly boring, the people there seemed depressed beyond what I could have expected. I mean, I had heard rumors, but, still. It almost seemed as if each one was on the verge of tears, because they had been confined there for several months and had to watch as astronauts and scientists like myself departed for various locations around the solar system. At one point I tried to watch an old, roman-epic movie but found that the base’s library contained only pornographic films. Five hundred terabytes of storage and not a pixel devoted to reality. What a shame.

I’m enjoying the time spent away from my wife. Who I hate. If my avid reader cares.

So, anyway, our mission is a simple survey of the sun’s surface, one that should take only a few months. I don’t intend to use this log much; I have a great deal of work to get to from the sensor readouts. If I have time, however, I will be sure to inform my nonexistent avid reader of the various excitements of my voyage to the sun.
[END ENTRY]

04:39
5/19/23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
She sent me a vid just under an hour ago. With nothing better to do, I watched it, and still have not finished. Strangely enough, she seems to genuinely miss me, which I find curious, because we hardly spoke the day that I left, or the week before it. I still can’t stop hating her, I won’t allow myself to crave her presence for as long as either of us lives, and even after that. I don’t even know why I married the woman, I met her during college, it seemed like love for many months, we married, went on a honeymoon to the South Pacific and then settled into this routine of steady bickering, one that has not ceased even for a moment in ten years of marriage. I don’t know why I don’t divorce her, I feel almost a pity, she can hardly take care of herself, even if she does spend her days hollering at me. She used to apologize for it, but seems to have just given in to her desire to be the stronger one in our relationship. Maybe I will divorce her…

I have to get my mind off of her. The ship. Let me tell you about the ship.

The ship itself, which lacks a name (all the good ones have long since been taken), has the serial number “GB-3628,” I’ve taken to calling it “Geebee.” It actually isn’t so bad up here, my quarters are fairly small, but the bed is nice, the computer will, for the next week or so, have a connection to the medias of Earth and Mars. There are a pair of hallways that run sideways and into each other, each connecting to the various science rooms, the four living quarters (one is empty), the living room, and the control center. I first saw the ship docked to the Wheel and thought that it resembled a long cylinder with a large rectangle on the rear. There really isn’t much more to say about it, so I think I’ll take a break and have another look at the readouts.
[END ENTRY]

18:43
5-24-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
I can still see the Earth, maybe make out a continent every now and then. I wish this thing had a telescope; the views of the stars out here are incredible. Boredom, however, is a tough thing to live with. Nelson and Tyler, two middle-aged, underpaid astronauts, have, for the most part kept to themselves, none of us have really spoken to one another, we’re all strangers here. The boredom is steadily getting worse, I can imagine that in a couple of weeks, when we lose radio contact with Earth it’s going to be crazy. I’m downloading as many books as I can, but the connection isn’t too good.
[END ENTRY]

10:15
5-30-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
Earth looked absolutely ravishing the day I left, as it steadily shrunk into just a ball of light over the course of our journey I found myself wishing that I had some champagne to pop open, after all, my wife is back there, on that little white speck, surely bored now with no one to scream at. We have to keep the windows facing the sun shut and wouldn’t be able to look out of them anyway (the sun tends to blind humans mercilessly), so I’m left with nothing but a chasm of faint stars to look at. Sometimes I feel like downloading the latest movie or television shows but lately I’ve just been sleeping or going through the sensor reports, which, for some reason, I find amazingly enthralling even though they tend to consist of little more than numbers and dashes. Nothing the ship has picked up has been unusual. However, I’ve been feeling a sense of secrecy permeating the close air of this place, my questions regarding the sun itself are tensely answered and then tend to degenerate into a “how’s the wife” conversation. Those never get too far, what with my hating my spouse. And, in addition to it all, this mission must have been enormously expensive for the UN, I have no idea why they would want to send us on this kind of task, one that could be handled (from a safe distance) just as easily by one of hundreds of satellites they have scattered throughout the solar system. Most of the data I get now comes from them, and will continue to do so until June 2.

Nelson and Tyler are polite, but they just don’t seem to enjoy my company. Whenever I arrive in the “living room” and find them both conversing they immediately stop and shift the subject. I guess I never believed those stories about animosity from astronauts toward scientists, almost like the prevalent racism of mid twentieth century America. I’m sure they must have some slur they refer to me as behind my back, but I don’t really want to get to the bottom of it.

I’m starting to think that the only good thing about this mission is that I’m as far away as I can possibly be from my wife. God, how I loathe her…
[END ENTRY]

09:38
6-02-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
We’ve passed through an outer-atmosphere of radiation, rendering our communication with Earth impossible. I am both ecstatic and depressed. I don’t have to send any more letters to my wife, nor do I have to read the ones she sends to me. However I now only have the few books I downloaded, the few movies, and the sensor readouts from the ship for entertainment. Two hours ago the radar picked up an object just a few miles away, extremely close space-wise, it was an asteroid or comet that NORAD hadn’t mapped out during the stellar cartography missions of the fifties. The computers in the control room were going nuts, the lights dimmed to red and everything, as if we were living through the last few seconds of an old Sci Fi movie. It seems to have disintegrated, it must have been made of ice, but we’re all still on edge. I try not to speak to my crewmates. I’m starting to develop a relationship with them similar to the one I wish I’d have with my wife: One with no verbal communication.
[END ENTRY]


11:50
6-02-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
Christ almighty, something just hit us. Nelson and Tyler are freaking out. The ship is spinning like a merry-go-round. We can’t close any of the windows for some reason so the sun blasts us every other twenty seconds. According to the instruments we’re losing oxygen fast—we already don’t have enough to get back to Earth. They’re looking for the hole right now, but because of the heat outside they can’t do an EVA, so it isn’t likely that they’ll be able to patch it up. I can’t stop sweating or shaking, it’s getting to be somewhat of a challenge to type these letters. Maybe I should switch to verbal, but then I’d just stutter. I really don’t know about this. It could be it. For me. What the hell are we going to do? We don’t have enough oxygen…we’re out of contact with Earth…and every twenty seconds we can’t see a damn thing with our own eyes…Christ almighty…what am I going to do?
[END ENTRY]

17:10
6-03-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
Tyler managed to find the hole and cover it up with some metal from the pantry that he welded on. We have four more days of oxygen. I’ve spent as much time away from the crew as possible, luckily the sensors are still doing fine, even though we haven’t stopped spinning. The readings haven’t changed a great deal, but, oddly enough, the fact that they have changed is cause for some concern on my part. Nelson managed to at least keep the ship from spinning any faster, which is good, because if it were to increase in speed we might all be permanently blinded. The sun would be on every side of the ship at once, in our eyes, splitting open our heads.
[END ENTRY]

18:20
6-03-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
The explosion must have screwed up the ship’s main computer; I had a look at the objectives and noticed immediately that they had changed significantly. This isn’t a scientific mission, there’s a fusion warhead on the nose of Geebee that is incomprehensibly powerful, if it exploded here Saturn might lose its rings from the shockwave. Apparently we were supposed to fire it into the sun, but I’ve looked at the damage reports, and the mechanism for launching the rocket itself has been completely severed. I think they were planning on telling me, but I’m not really sure. The wieners back on Earth had no clue as to what was and is happening inside the sun, but they think that its heart may need a kind of jumpstart, like shocking a heart attack victim when their pulse flatlines. I’m just not sure about this, really, really not sure…I wish I had someone to talk to, I’m beginning to talk to myself more and more now…
[END ENTRY]


19:15
6-03-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
I’ve done some calculations. One of us would be able to make it back if…if the other two weren’t around. Even with the sensor readouts, which have been going insane, I still can’t stop thinking about the deadline four days from now, when we’ll all suffocate to death. I can see it clearly, my mouth will open and I’ll cough, my eyes will widen, I’ll fall to the metal floor, claw at the air with my hands, and then cease to move. Weeks from now a ship may come and get us, but, who knows, with the sun having a heart attack there may not be a human alive in the solar system to pack us up.
[END ENTRY]

23:27
6-03-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
I walked into the living room to get some food and noticed that Tyler and Nelson were viciously staring at each other. There was total contempt for one another in their eyes. Their muscles were tense. Sweat beads ran down their foreheads. Their gray hair shone each time the sun blasted us. Something’s going to give. I managed to sneak one of the knives back to my cabin; I may bolt the door or lock it somehow, if I can.
[END ENTRY]

02:13
6-04-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
They’re screaming and banging on my door right now, shouting profanities, using those slurs that I mentioned a few days ago. I had just locked the door and braced it with my computer hard drive when they started bashing on it and demanding that I come out. There’s no way that I’m leaving here. No way. I haven’t answered them once, I’ve tried not to make any noise…wait a second…they stopped, they’re listening…I shouldn’t be typing, but—but it helps, somehow, makes me feel like I’m not alone nine AU’s from the Earth with no radio contact. I have to stop, now, I have to, I know they can hear me.
[END ENTRY]

02:45
6-04-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
I just heard a scream, I think it was Nelson. My god…he’s outside…Jesus…he’s out there right now. Nelson’s body, I can see it every few seconds. It’s disintegrating. His skin is clinging to his bones. I can see the skull beneath his face. I can’t turn away. It looks like he has a stab wound to the chest, but I can’t tell, I only get to see him for a second. Then the sun flashes, then I see him again, almost like the frames of an old movie. At least, this way, we have a week of oxygen left. That’ll put us within visible range of Earth. At least, if I die, I’ll get a last look at my homeworld.
[END ENTRY]

05:03
6-05-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
I have to get food. I’m going to confront Tyler. I’m not leaving without the knife.
[END ENTRY]

07:15
6-05-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
As soon as I left my cabin he came at me and tore open my left shoulder, Christ, it hurts. The man was easily twice my size, so I ran from him, shut all the doors behind me and turned off the gravity. I came back at him, with my mastery of zero g from screwing around all those days before. I slit his throat, blood gushed everywhere. It’s on my hands right now, but I can’t tell if it’s mine or his. He choked, gasped and coughed, his eyes widened and then faded as life left them. I jettisoned him just a second ago, and am now enjoying a roast beef sandwich. It’s pretty good.
[END ENTRY]

08:15
6-06-23
[BEGIN ENTRY]
I can’t get the gravity back. I don’t care. I have no idea how to control this thing. There must be a thousand acronyms, one for each button in the cockpit. The ship doesn’t come with a manual. I’ve got to hope that Tyler left it on autopilot. I’ve showered four times and can’t get any of the blood off of my body, but my shoulder seems to have stopped bleeding. The sensors have gone totally berserk. There may be merely a solar storm brewing down there, or it might be getting ready to go nova prematurely. I don’t know. I need more time. Blood is everywhere. I’ve tried to wash it away, but the ship won’t stay clean. The sun is giving me a constant headache; I think I may be losing my sight as well. I can’t sleep; it’s so goddamn bright in here. Even though I’ve showered four times I still appear as if I just walked out of a Chewbacca-look-alike contest.
[END ENTRY]

11:49
6-10-23
[BEGIN VERBAL ENTRY]
I can’t see anymore. It’s been nearly impossible to get things back up and running I’ve managed. The ship reads the data aloud to me, now. I think I’ve got a general idea as to what’s happening in the core. For whatever reason, the fusion cycle has been slowing down and speeding up, and the process has been accelerating exponentially. If my eyes worked, I bet I’d be able to see the sun flashing. I also bet the kind folks back on Earth and the solar system abroad can see it as well. Sooner or later something is going to explode, there’s going to be a huge burst of heat. It may be enough to incinerate the planets; or it may only be enough to raise the temperature by a few degrees for a few hours. I just don’t know, and I’m not sure that I can know until it happens.

The computer says that I’m on my way back to Earth. I don’t know how I’m going to explain the deaths of two fellow crewmembers to NASA. I may have to edit or delete this log. I could just say that they fought each other and both threw themselves out into space. But they won’t believe that. I’m just a scientist, not an astronaut, not a politician, not a businessman. Not a liar. I can’t lie. They’d see it in a second. I’d break down…plus, they’d never believe me, with this blood everywhere.
I hate my wife. I wish she were here right now. Her voice has been running through my head like there’s no tomorrow. Even though I can’t see. I’d enjoy hearing her scream. I’d enjoy feeling my hands tear open her throat, that’d stop her nagging. The stupid bitch can go to hell; it might be more comfortable than where I am right now.
[END ENTRY]

--date malfunction—
[BEGIN VERBAL ENTRY]
She’s here. I don’t know how. She won’t leave me alone. Blood is seeping from the walls. I can feel it. I can smell it. Shut up! Shut your mouth you whore! Leave me alone! God, someone help me, anyone, help me, please…Oh just leave me alone, get away! Stay the hell away from me! Only a few more hours until radio contact with Earth. Only a few more hours…but do I want to do it? They might find out, they might find me guilty before I even get back, then they’d shoot me down with a missile. But there might not even be an Earth left to get back to…no I don’t care what you say about my shirt color! God…be quiet…
[END ENTRY]

--date malfunction—
[BEGIN VERBAL ENTRY]
The ship started shaking a few seconds ago. It’s really shaking now. I think I can hear it falling apart. The blood, the blood is everywhere—I think I can see again! It is terrible, My God, the ship, it’s like a nightmare, the blood, the knives! Tyler, Nelson, and my wife are screaming at me and threatening me, I don’t know how. It’s shaking more now. The portholes look like they’re surrounded by some kind of inferno. I’m going to have a look.

I don’t know how I’m alive, or how the ship is in one piece. There’s a firestorm around the hull that looks like comet tails and solar flares, just steaming by. It’s stopped shaking. I can see Earth now. I haven’t contacted them. They haven’t contacted me. I can see through the inferno. My god, it’s—it’s frying the surface, the planet is turning black, it’s falling apart, disintegrating, no more than a cloud of dust, oh, my, my, my…
[END ENTRY]

--date malfunction—
[BEGIN VERBAL ENTRY]
I have been unable to make contact with anyone. I had hoped that somewhere in the solar system someone else was still alive. I can’t find any of the planets. There seems to be some kind of a red glow in every direction outside, like the color of blood. I can’t move my arms anymore, I don’t know why, I can hardly move at all, it might be all the radiation, getting to my brain, it’s becoming harder to speak…I don’t even have the luxury to commit suicide. Nelson, stay back—
[END ENTRY]

 

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Cheers!

See, I really would post something, but I honestly don't think I can bloody compete with that, what with my whole geoggers situation and noticable lack of sense of humour... bloody sorry.
Besides, once you get me started on something like that, I can't stop. And depending on what kind of mood I'm in, I could start inventing my own bloody language, or twist it into some Titanic-gone-bad thing, especially what with my noticeably excessive exposure to caffiene of late.
And besides, you know that there'd be the Elves... so yes. Bloody sorry.
Not QUITE ready to get on Tolkien Enterprises' bad side quite yet. Sorry.
But great idea for a thread. I'd like to read more- ahem, cue-to-everyone-else-who-isn't-as-lazy-as-me- so keep at it.
Cheers to that!

Niudo,
Ghost of Mirkwood

 

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Some original fiction:

For many years, they had been at the mercy of the doctor, who experimented and probed and tested them without mercy, searching for something they could not give. Now it was over. The same lord who had granted the doctor permision to do this was detroying the lab. The massive gates collapsed under the massive weight of a Behemoth battle tank. Soldiers in battlesuits stormed the compound while fighters shattered the sky with their sonic booms.

The legionares pulled back out of the building as tehy contacted the brainwashed supersoldiers, one of the doctor's successful experiments. Tom looked back into his room. When the power went out, most rooms had come unlocked, or became easy to escape. The little ones had come to him for protection. The fourth floor room was full of them. They couldn't get the inhibitor collars off, though, and they were one of the few things to survive the EMP that had accompanied the bombs that cut the power.

Someone gasped and he looked back out the window. The sickly green fog that was under teh distant trees crept foward to flow through the gate and hide the soldier's legs. With it came more legionares, dressed in archiac armor, looking puny and weak beside the powerful powered armor. A supersoldier rushed one, only to die. The smell of old dead came through the window, a slighty musty, rancid smell that they only knew by intuition. Tom soon realized that whatever these new soldiers were, the supersoldiers couldn't begin to compete. They walked through bullets and explosions without flinching. The regular legionares soon fell back to let them take the lead.

It was hours later when they heard someone come up the stairs. The Legions had focused on resistance, trusting the "patients" at the "hospital" to keep to thier rooms and stay still. They had cleared the bunkers and labs underground, and Tom had seen the doctor led away in chains. This was confusing to someone who had had it drilled into his head that by undergoing these experiments, he served the Lord of Chaos, whose same troops now destroyed the compound. Indeed, the walls were being blasted into rubble by demolition teams, and many of the underground chambers, labs, and bunkers were mere holes in the ground now. One of those blasts had shattered the window, letting him hear the shouts of the men. Now that most of the resistance was cleaned up, most of the battlesuits had left, leaving men equipped with nonpowered armor and technical equipment they used to hack into computers and other such things. Footsteps stopped in front of the door. Two massive blows knocked it in, waking the smaller children, scaring them all. Tom looked at one of the soldiers that had slaughtere the doctors supersoldiers. Now he could see why.

The man wore ancient armor, leather and steel, black with blood-red lighlights went with a sword whose blade was stained with blood. A long rend in the armor showed the blow that had cut him in two, and took his life long ago. The green mist seemed to cling in crevices in his armor. They supersoldiers hadn't been made to fight the dead!

Running was heard, and a tech wearing more modern armor designed against bullets and shrapnel ran up, looked into the room, and said something into his radio. The undead legionare continued down the hall, knocking dow ntwo more doors, to reveal the others. The tech folowed him, completely ignoring the children. At twelve, Tom was one of the oldest. HIs body wracked by cerebral palsy, the doctor had been interested i nhis mind, forcefully unlocking the telekinetic powers within and trying to find out how to unlock them in others. He had been placed here to look over the children, mostly failed experiments, thier bodies and minds twisted by the doctor, and cast aside when he couldn't use them. Tom had pleased him, obeying his commands, even if confused by an apparent double standard.

Now a man stood in the doorway, holding a lantern against the fading twilight, his armor more decorative than even the undead's, blood-red, black, and silver used in the coloring except for the white fist in the middle of his chest, but the stiking thing was the way that it fit him like a second skin, moving effortlessly with him, conjuring a premordial fear in the little ones. He set the lantern on the desk by the door, and moved aside. A second man wearing a nanosuit entered the room, His armor bearing no symbol, just the fractal pattern of Chaos. He had rounded his armor, the soft edges and smooth outline magnitudes less frightening than the other. A sword hung at his side, somehow not an anacronism. He bent down, taking off his helmet, and looked at the children, tears in his eyes. Not all of them had inhibitors, just those who could do things with thier minds. Those he took off of those who could control thier talents, working his way to Tom. The nanosuit extruded a monofilament scissors, which he held around his collar, pausing to say,"Do you hate me for what has been claimed to have been done in my name?" He drew the sword, crimson lightning crackled along a blood-red blade, reachign out and bruching nearby object, stroking him with fire, promising him unpleasant things if struck with that blade. His face was reflected in red by the blade, as the lord continued,"Many will. The doctor burns in here now, not even you could devise a more perfect fate for the man." The sword was sheathed, and the scissors closed through the collar, releasing his power. The Lord of Chaos stood and turned to go. "We have food, water and such for the children. bring them downstairs, and let me know your decision. There are others who have abused my generosity like the doctor did, and thier victims will need help, too." And he was gone. Tom sat in a wheelchair he did't need, staring after him. Ironically, it was the smell of a soiled diaper that roused him to lead the little ones downstairs, floating throught halls being wired with exposives.

 

The death of the fighter

He stumbled outside of his tent, slowly, he walked over to the pond glistening in the sun. The water within the pond like thousand diamonds floating in the sands of time forever, in their own content of existence. He slowly walked over, bleeding, tired, and in pain that could only described as unimaginable as it was brutal on his weakening heart. His face, carved by the brutal hands of war, constantly being slapped by the harsh winds of the desert terrain. Finally he reached the pond, the water was so beautiful in his eyes that tears streamed down his face from the pain of the wait he had to endure to take in the cool, gentle, warmth of that water, even if that wait was only a few mere seconds. As soon as his hand reached down to swin through the gentle water he died. His hand collapsed down on the hot sand of the alien habitat without ever knowing what that sweet drink of water was like. Sure he had drank plently before but now this drink would encompass them all because it was his last. As soon as his life ended his partner came over and robbed him of his money and took his clothes and left him to die butt-nakid.

The end.

 

Wha'da'ya think, Pollux?

 

It's afternoon, I've been awake for several hours and all I've done is either write or post on forums. I have to take a shower. I'll take a look at everything here--comment on it--and post some of my own stuff as soon as I can. At the latest, it'll be the end of the day tomorrow.

 

damn good stuff

you guys write really well. Is there more?

very funny, sargentlard. lol.

 

I'll have more of that one later, and another should be done as soon as I get the research done. I'm actually considering not posting it, as it may...what's a good word...unerve some people.

 

Gifted,

I found some of the story a bit confusing, and as it progressed there seemed to be more and more typos. I just wasn't quite sure what was going on...

Marigny,

Cool. It was definitely cool. Like Gifted's, I didn't really understand it, but that makes total sense--because it's part of a bigger story. Some of the words seemed a little unnecessary, at times it seemed like too much.

sargent,

Even though it was a joke, I found the concept to be...intriguing. A bit too many words used though. Kind of like Narcissus....

So there are my comments, hopefully thought of by the writers of the stories as being constructive criticism. Keep in mind that I am only an aspiring writer, and I have had nothing published yet. Just take it with a grain of salt, I guess. I'm actually just back from the P.O, I sent this story to six magazines. Who knows...



And now, to post something of my own, which will hopefully garner criticism. Here follows the beginning of a chapter from my WW1-era fantasy, entitled Intertwine.

II

Drazir pressed her finger against the cold metal trigger of her rifle, felt the weapon buck, saw a flash, felt her ears thrum in pain with the loud roar that ushered forth from its nozzle. Its body was suddenly warm, and she could hear a light hiss emanate from the end, where a small funnel of steam was rising. At the other end of No-Man’s-Land, a muddy, corpse-strewn wasteland of soggy mutilation, she saw her target, a tall thin man, running toward her with his rifle at hand. An instant after she had pressed the trigger his shoulder burst into red plasma, and he fell into the soil of the battlefield. Her first kill.

Drazir fell back behind the trench she had dug herself into, it was more like a hole, far from the protected ranks of her countrymen behind her, she was quite alone, and quite likely to perish from the perpetual hail of gunfire streaming from the rebel insurgents in front of her. She felt a pang of sadness, a strange feeling envelop her, almost euphoria, but not quite. Her first kill. Someone who would have lived at least a little longer, had she not fired, was now just another mangled, lifeless body. The man had parents who would never see him again, probably a love of his life who feared for his safety every waking moment, who cried at his departure for the battlefield, her eyes more radiant than usual, maybe children, who were the joy of his life, who tinkered with his very perception of what reality was, who made him question philosophies he had taken for granted, many friends who smiled at him and shook their heads whenever he made a stupid joke. An entire existence had just ended, and an entire slew of people, when they learned of his death, would mourn for him perhaps for their entire lives. If he were alive…if he were alive.

Combat.

She saw another target making for her foxhole. Instinctively, she lifted her gun and fired again, missed. She saw the whites of the man’s eyes as he dove for cover twenty or thirty feet away. She heard the pitch of the distant, almost otherworldy machine guns change, and she ducked down and covered her ears as plumes of wet dirt and blood ruptured around her, the bullets whizzing by centimeters above the thin metal of her helmet, the ground tremoring wildly as screeching shells burst in the mud. Her wet face grimaced, her eyes shut tightly. Even with her ears covered the noise was deafening, and as the time ached on she felt desperation climbing in her lungs, up her dirt-clogged throat. The noise grew to a cataclysm, and she screamed as the snapping and the whizzing and the roars of the distant cannons grew to such a chorus around her that absolutely nothing else could be heard. The hail of gunfire ended as slowly as it began, gradually tapering off as the gunners found new targets. Her miserable shrieking did not end until the rumbling earth was still. And even then it was all her mind’s voice could do, for in trench combat logical thought is silenced, and while she was closer to death than she ever had been before, she never felt more alive.

Combat.

 

Do you think posting the rest of this would be too much for some people?

The street was rubble. Kal'joonack looked at the shattered buildings, the rubble in the street, and watched another tank rumble down it. He started walking, the 22mm rifle held ready. The demons were larger than the humans working in other areas of the universe, and the Black hand of Chaos handled it easily. A nice weapon, a load of flechette would shred a man like the beef in one of his Lord's barbeque sandwiches. Screams eminated from a store he past, one of the humans would learn what it was like to live that way for weeks. The pain and fear seeped through his twisted empathic sense, lifting him up much like the intoxicants used by some humans.

One of the creatures that resided here chose the wrong moment to dart across the street, his rifle butt smashing it in the chest, knocking it twenty feet away to land in a pile of trash. The burst of pain made him gasp, usually he wore the amulet his Lord had given him, to keep the pain out. The lack of tolerence made him sensitive. He chose not to do anything to the eyes and hints of green fur peering out the the trash can, stopping only to put his foot down on the blue creatures throat, ending the gurgling, sucking gasps of its shattered lungs. They were no better than the children that his Lord had ordered them not to touch, not that it mattered, his horde moved slowly enough that the humans would evacuate an area and entrench.

Closer to the end of the street, a bonfire burned. What looked like a large bird's nest was augmented by beams from a nearby building. The mutilated carcass of an elephant-like creature with rust-red fur was nearby, pieces of it roasting with the body of a large bird, yellow feathers scorching the air with their acrid smell. He tore off a drumstick, flattening a warrior who protested.

At the end of the street, a building was somewhat intact. The windows had been broken by bomb blasts, the only other damage worth mentioning was the bullet shatter stone door posts, and the stump of the brick mailbox, blasted by a HE round from one of his warriors' guns. The body of the creature that had been hiding behind it was still there, ravens pecking at its eyes. The red fur made it difficult to see where the wounds were.

One round blew the door into a million pieces. The pink walls and childish decor confirmed that this was the creature's house. He sat down on a chair, crushing it under him, felling the sweet pain of splinters in his butt, and ate the drumstick, washing it down with water in a fishbowl that had miraculously survived the carnage. He didn't notice the goldfish added to his meal.

Back outside, he walked down a side street, pausing by the sign. Crushed by a tank, the words Sesame St. were barely legible. Hefting his gun, he walked on.

The side road led to the suburbs. Towards the egde of the city he passed a schoolyard, standing out only because of the symbology of a stuffed animal, the dinosuar's stuffing peeking out of the rips and tears. It was stained with the blood of a human soldier who had died with his comrades under the tracks of a tank.

 

A scene cut from the first ever Star wars. It was cut out due to being a little eccentric at that time of the gentle seventies

Han Solo *looks at Princess Leia standing near a waterfall* Hello Princess Leia...how..um..how are you.

Princess Leia *becomes uncomfortable and responds hesistently* I..i am fine...how are you...you we..were a little...a little angry last night.

HS *rubs his face in distraught* Oh thank you, i just confronted a dark part of my past and it just got the best of me..i am sorry if i worried you.

PL*grabs Han's arm in worry* No No it is ok..i was just concerned for your safety......*looks down and backs away*...do you think we should talk about what happened...um..las..last night....

HS *walks away in a hurry mumbling about fixing his ship* Um..last..last night ..what about last night..nothing happened.

PL *catches up with him and gets in front of him*Look something happened last night Han...something between us....we need to talk about it.
It's ok...it happens to every man once in a while..it is nothing to be ashamed of.

HS *Runs his hand through his hair and rushes over to Princess Leia* Please..don't say that so loud..please..it hurts ok... i promise princess i am a stromtrooper in ..well..you know...when it comes to that sort of stuff.

PL *grabs his hand and assures him*..oh i completely understand...it's ok..it's allright....it happens to the best of us...even i didn't get my first boyfriends...you know...up...the first time...

HS*surprised and excited* Really?

PL*with a smiling face* no...i was always great unlike you....*realizes what she said...*...i mean...you are great too i am sure...

HS*starts to cry* OH BY THE BEARDS OF OBI WAN KANOBE I AM A MAN NO MORE.

***Chwebaca walks in with Luke****

**Han wipes his tears off and prenends to laugh and talks about killing Darth Wader****

Luke Skywalker *happy and excited* Boy what a great night last night..i was on fire..found this tall little girlie in the bar and man a good time was had if you know what i mean....*taps Han's arm while winking*....

Chwebaca*also excited tells of his great night with a girl from the same bar who was short and skinny*

***They both laugh and feel proud of themselves untill they realize the obvious****

***uncomfortable silence...Han Looks at Leia and Luke looks at Chewbacca while crying***

HSUmm..i'll go start the ship....

 

you guys have great imaginations.

Pollux, interesting. We get to see a clear perspective of what she's going through. In the middle of all the destruction she felt alive. I can feel the adrenaline pumping. thanks for the review, it's nice that you found it cool.

Gifted, nice imagery of dinosaur/elephant monsters running around or not. scary. and i don't think it's too gory. in fact i like it violent.

sargentlard, what can i say. lol.

ok, I've got another fiction-fantasy type original from the same story but in a later chapter. and yes, I do get into imagery alot. I love words.

Enjoy, people.

The handles of the gateway were ice cold, but I guided my fingers boldly over it and unfastened the adjoining entrance door. Staunchly ignoring my heartbeat as the access hinges noisily shrieked, took a step into the opening. It was resilient to see through the misty shadows, the radiance from the blue flame reflecting indistinctly from the sophisticated sight. Several minutes passed and the vapor of smoke cleared, it was then that I saw, a chorus of metal and silver intertwined in blissful unison. A vision that made even my breath catch. A moment too soon or not soon enough, feeling barren in a universe of uncertainty I unexpectedly felt alone.

Oh, come on now.
There had to be a living soul here. Wasn't there?

"Hello." My voice sounded childish and that same awful feeling came over me. The sound of it echoing off the empty vastness of the great open space, resonating against the steely glow of the metallic sheets lay up against polished clouds of gray starry lights. The quiet was so intense that I felt as if I were disturbing a place of consecrated ground or worse. My own boots, black and sooty now seemed grayish and discolored, as if the entirety of my clothing became part of this place. I scarcely made whisper-scratches alongside the granite of the obscure floorings.

Someplace within, the uneasy laughter altered and became nearly an utterance. "Hello?" I repeated again but that wasn't it-- the force touching my torso was making me dizzy, almost as if I were supposed to be communicating something. I stifled a totally unsuitable chortle. Hovering on the edge of the universe, could it be that the language I speak is unknown?

"I’ve come to bring the offering," I heard myself presenting. "I was told that there would be someone here to instruct me of what it is I must do."

Stillness ricocheted once more.

Subtly moving towards the objects so beautifully designed, I tried to emit light from my cold hands around them to further inspect the silver entities. They were sitting peculiarly, though, and the brightness denied them any obscurity and it seemed resolutely not to acquiesce to the cold blue flame from my fingers.

The silence broke.

Brief, short-winged euphoria vibrated on my pulse and the pain of the memory was as powerful and sharp, instilling a broken scream from the depths of my soul.

There was great power here; I sense it and it swallowed me wholly. Two rivals complemented each other. A female, strong and prudent; and the other, a male, dangerous and malevolent. Together, they bonded dangerously close, a vibrant force that she was no part of. And now they lived and died, twin wounds marring the visionary sky above, displacing time and space. My eyes were closed beneath my fists, gritting teeth and rather desperately, wondering through the piercing pain if she was still here.

She is here.

As I turned to the quiet noise from behind, over the gateway firmament, there was electric radiance rhizomes mounted in the ceiling that sky, for they all wavered on instantaneous. I started, but by the unnatural pale glow they shed I could at last see—her.

"What are you doing here?" It sounded like defiance.
I found my voice. “I know who you are-“I paused, noting the enclosure of her being.

Stunning. I blinked, but it was not a counterfeit notion. Skin so pastel it was lucent and dark almost black eyes. A long sweep of hair so black it seemed to absorb whatever luminescence the lights burnished. She stood, long-limbed and proud, by those radiant lights.

"I forget that there are those like you still searching for the existence." she simply said, as if that enlightened entirely. I could not prevent staring. It was not the skin, or the eyes, or the tresses, though they were by far and large, the most superb I'd ever seen. Ah, but her wings. My wits did foolish somersaults, dizzied and anxious. Monochrome, huge, translucent against the backdrop of her sky. Lifting calmly from her shoulders, feathered and damp-- but with such facet I felt I could slice a finger on the razor periphery of them.

I gulped, nodded humbly. I hoped she had the compassion she used to possess, for suddenly I could not bring myself to speak.
“Get out.” Her voice bounced off the heavens, and the silver glint of metallic embers became transformed into beings of bright lights, hovering around the perimeters of her existence.
This was not the time to chicken out, I berated myself. She had to know.

“I’ve an offering for you-“

“I know what you have. Leave it and go.” She interrupted.

“No.” it was a brave attempt but she must hear it from me. I closed my eyes. Begging quietly for a new revelation.

When I opened my eyes, she was there by my side. Her great pale wings so close, they hovered around me like a noiseless roar. "Give me more than an offering, can that, human?" she whispered in my ear, echoes of my manhood trembling just beyond the resonance of her tone. The fine hairs at the nape of my neck stood up. "What concerns you? What... makes you want immortality?"
I swallowed convulsively. "What?" I managed dumbly. The question addressed though nothing out of the ordinary began to form suspicions in my mind. Was there a catch? The offering hidden in my pocket was enough to appease someone like her. Perhaps if I….the thought came after the instant reaction.

Lifting my hand, the blue flames shot up into the silver sky, spinning her into silence. I wanted to show her that I too possess power. Transfixed, I waited for her reaction and prepared. The dark angel arched her supine brow, the faded luminescence of her perfect features unmovable. "You are a magic user then?" she whispered. She touched me, almost lovingly. So cold, so cold; I didn't dare move lest she embraced my soul and solidify my life away. Pay attention, I told myself.

She kissed my lips and the contact burned oddly. "Not even frightened?" she asked. Her hands, gradually warmer now left me. The silence between us seems to pass and she demonstrated another request. "Then for the offering you give me, I shall give you something in return." Her kisses breathed an unspeakable something into human lungs that I felt that I was being devoured from the inside out. Oh god, it was burning me alive.

I liked it.

I think I said, "Please." In a meaningless whisper.
Her hands swiftly taking the offering from my pocket, clutched at the precious piece then left me there in that vast planet, I felt no more than a lethal sweet vacant sort of pain. My eyelids flickered closed, and I was gifted with apparitions of airborne winged angelic beings and damp fibers of hot red blood.

My perspective began to change, increasingly igniting visions in my head, a cosmos unfolding from itself, galaxies like flowing hot milk, and cataclysmic, blistering sweet supernovas.
I went out into the way I came and felt……immortal.

 

That was VERY cool. One of the better ones that I've seen.

actually, I haven't read a thing here that I didn't think was good.
Some a bit wordy, but perhaps that's what it takes to paint a picture effectively.

I congratulate you all on your on your creativity. I wish that I could master words the way that many of you have.

Bravo...

 

Here's all of that last one. What'da'ya think? Give you nightmares yet?



The street was rubble. Kal'joonack looked at the shattered buildings, the rubble in the street, and watched another tank rumble down it. He started walking, the 22mm rifle held ready. The demons were larger than the humans working in other areas of the universe, and the Black hand of Chaos handled easily what took a man a battlesuit to carry. A nice weapon, a load of flechette would shred a man like the beef in one of his Lord's barbeque sandwiches. Screams eminated from a store he past, one of the humans would learn what it was like to live that way for weeks. The pain and fear seeped through his twisted empathic sense, lifting him up much like the intoxicants used by some humans.

One of the creatures that resided here chose the wrong moment to dart across the street, his rifle butt smashing it in the chest, knocking it twenty feet away to land in a pile of trash. The burst of pain made him gasp, usually he wore the amulet his Lord had given him, to keep the pain out. The lack of tolerence made him sensitive. He chose not to do anything to the eyes and hints of green fur peering out the the trash can, stopping only to put his foot down on the blue creature's throat, ending the gurgling, sucking gasps of its shattered lungs. They were no better than the children that his Lord had ordered them not to touch, not that it mattered, his horde moved slowly enough that the humans would evacuate an area and entrench.

Closer to the end of the street, a bonfire burned. What looked like a large bird's nest was augmented by beams from a nearby building. The mutilated carcass of an elephant-like creature with rust-red fur was nearby, pieces of it roasting with the body of a large bird, yellow feathers scorching the air with their acrid smell. He tore off a drumstick, flattening a warrior who protested.

At the end of the street, a building was somewhat intact. The windows had been broken by bomb blasts, the only other damage worth mentioning was the bullet shatter stone door posts, and the stump of the brick mailbox, blasted by a HE round from one of his warriors' guns. The body of the creature that had been hiding behind it was still there, ravens pecking at its eyes. The red fur made it difficult to see where the wounds were.

One round blew the door into a million pieces. The pink walls and childish decor confirmed that this was the creature's house. He sat down on a chair, crushing it under him, feeling the sweet pain of splinters in his butt, and ate the drumstick, washing it down with water in a fishbowl that had miraculously survived the carnage. He didn't notice the goldfish added to his meal.

Back outside, he walked down a side street, pausing by the sign. Crushed by a tank, the words Sesame St. were barely legible. Hefting his gun, he walked on.

*****

They had been charged by a dark power with a good deal to bring terror to these lands. They did so now. The road eventually led to a highway, where he caught a ride on a convoy. The Black Hand of the Lord of Chaos took the convoy to the next large depot, stopping only once, where a walk in the countryside showed how little of the world had been spared. He walked down a slope into a valley, passing a windmill looking like a child's pinwheel. The concrete tower was leaning where a shell had removed the concrete from the rebar. The grass was completely burnt, and the smell of leftover napalm filled the air. The low hill in the center covered a house, the semicircle windows probably once had a bright paint scheme. The inside was trashed from his troops, which by this time had gone from high to what a drug-user might call stoned. They no longer could restrain themselves to capturing and torturing, they had had the air forces napalm the valley, even though there had been no hostile forces, and mowing the five inhabitants down as the ran scearming, burning, in circles. They had ransacked the house, tore apart what appeared on close examination to be a vacuum cleaner, and moved on. He returned to the convoy, the baby face in the sun bawling uncontrollably.

*****

From the top of a hill they watched as their gigantic brethren, easily ten stories tall, duked it out with machines of similar size built ot resemble prehistoric animals. A giant lizard from the other coast provided the meat for the picnic as the machines changed, merging togather into a giant humaniod robot with a sword only to be overwhelmed as a dozen more of his brethren came out of the maze of the city and pulled it down. The machines were torn apart, peices scattered wily nilly, while they pulled out the five pilots and swallowed them screaming, to be slowly digested, very painfully.

*****

The Lord of Chaos met with his Black Hand, Kal'joonack, several miles south of the ruins of the city where the machineshad been destroyed. The name of the burned farm's owner, Piggle-Wiggle, was barely legible on the sign. He smashed his fist against his chest in the salute of his people, and bowed. "My Lord."

Benjamin Laconis, Lord of Chaos, returned the salute in kind. His nanosuit had formed itself for maximum psychological impact. Every spike and angle had been carefully computed by the quantum computers inside to inspire fear and revulsion in humans and several other species. Anger burned in his eyes as he spoke. "Soon our employer," he spoke the name in disgust, for who but an unreformed demon relish such horror as he had been forced to unleash in return for the souls of him and his people, both demon and human,"will come to gloat with us. When he comes, we will be free, one way or another." As he said this, he clenched his fist on the hilt of his sword. Kal'joonack knew full well the power of that sword, had seen it take souls of those previously thought invulnerable to its magic. The wait will soon be over, he told himself. Then they will be on their way, the poor inhabitants of this world to curse and try to regain what was lost.

 

I'm sure that would have inspired a response by now. Is it that bad?

 

wellllllllllll

it could make a good action film/story,
but since it's in story format, it's a little hard to follow but it's good in a gory, sick way. yeah.

where is Pollux V? he's good at making a judgement.

ok, this part cracked me up:

"One round blew the door into a million pieces. The pink walls and childish decor confirmed that this was the creature's house. He sat down on a chair, crushing it under him, feeling the sweet pain of splinters in his butt, and ate the drumstick, washing it down with water in a fishbowl that had miraculously survived the carnage. He didn't notice the goldfish added to his meal. "

what a demented barbaric mind you have! lol

 

Gifted

Sorry man, not my thing.

 

My indulgment in psychopathy. Tell me, were yo uable to figure out the places? I was lookign for more, I suppose if I went international I could write a novel. I agree, for that story, it's hard to write visuals. Be better on The Twilight Zone or something.

 

Intertwine

I'll post more of the following if someone asks me to.

To not be is perfection.

Morning in Nelence was a sight to behold, and a sight beheld by many. Pillars of gleaming steel and forged material climbed from foundations of marble and stone into a sky filled with thick, golden clouds, the sun illuminating them with heavenly glory. Below, the streets were bustling with motorcars and dark-suited pedestrians, and the sidewalks seemed overrun with the bobbing heads and shoulders of bowler-hat toting businessmen. Lights from the insides of buildings began to flicker to life as the streetlamps along the crowded corridors below simultaneously deactivated. It was a symphony of activity, and all of it orchestrated to perfection unknowingly by the denizens of it. The patterns and joys of Nelence, oddly enough, only seemed to be noticed by outsiders, and those that had not spent an extended amount of time within the canyons of its glimmering metal.

The sky was packed with zeppelins and other flying vehicles, many of them large enough to blot the sun out for whole city streets. Inside the warm, opulent cabin of one of the bigger blimps, a transport being readied to travel to the distant isle of Vadaina, sat a lone governor from a distant, quieter region, where the only noises came from frogs and from dragonflies.

This had been his first trip in years to Nelence, for he hated the capital with a passion and avoided it whenever he could. He had been summoned by an official at the Congress Building and ordered to meet up with his friend on the Island of Vadaina before returning to convene in a conference of aristocrats. The meeting was apparently of some special importance. So he had left the gloom of Bethnen, the province he was sovereign over, against his will, as many things were these days, traveling by train, by car, and by blimp over the course of several weeks, through the various assorted territories of the nation of Isardis, meeting new people and attempting to avoid them at the same time.

He was an irritably shy young man who had assumed the helm of his lordship only months ago, alienating his now deceased father’s officers and diplomats and officials, who had been used to a jollier leader, his predecessor, his parent, who could wring a smile out of anyone by merely looking at them. His father was a great man, and Élan D’Bethne lived far within the confines of his shadow, even in death.

Élan was tall and very thin, his dark hair clung precariously to his high forehead, and his eyes seemed to suggest only laziness, only calm and peace, while the reality behind them, within the folded layers of flesh he called his brain, was greatly different. He blushed often, and realized it. His lips were thin and wide, and the overall feeling one could garner from the young man was that he was indeed of noble birth, he was of high standing and intelligence, but lacked perseverance, lacked inspiration to make anything out of himself. He was just another face in the crowd.
He had left most of the work up to the officials, preferring to instead stay within his quarters and stare at his desk, or the latest dispatches, tax reports, various municipal problems. It bored him to the brink of insanity, and yet there was no alternative. No escape. Somehow, his father, whom Élan had felt his entire life was a rather clumsy and stupid fellow, had managed to command a plethora of these ostentatiously complicated tasks, all the while with a gleam in his eye and a wide, pleasant smile on his handsome face. Élan had never loved his father, had instead felt a kind of attachment to him, a responsibility. The Old Lord had succumbed quite unexpectedly to the Halberd Fever, an incurable disease, and died less than a week later. Élan had searched frantically for another heir, perhaps a distant relation, but there was none willing to take the Bethnen Throne.