%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Campfire Creative >> Other >> Teen >> ID #1789746 |   |
| |||||||||||||
| [Introduction]
Welcome to this wonderful Campfire! The only rule is: no passing. We all want to hear what you have to write! Write about anything! This is mainly to get a feel for everyone's style and preference. So have fun and enjoy yourself! |
 Rose Montgomery  A tall brunette girl sits at the head of the fire. As she watches her group of teenagers talk and laugh, she smiles. Raising one hand, the group quickly quiets down.Welcome, all, on this wonderful summer night, she says. My name is Rose. I am excited to hear what stories you will all tell tonight. Rose stands and pulls a well-worn slip of paper from her pocket. Tonight I shall be reading from one of my favorite poems. It is written by me, and is quite gothic, as that is my current writing style. She takes a deep breath and begins. Fallen Angel Wings black as the night sky through which they fly Fallen Angel Eternally hungry, devouring hungry souls Fallen Angels Darkness controls every thought Fallen Angel Edged in black with darkened hearts Fallen Angel Call to me, from the stormy ground below Fallen Angel Set me free, to taste your newfound freedom Fallen Angel Give to me, a night that lasts forever Bookiemonster Rachel, who has long dark blonde-ish-almost-brown hair stands up and walks over to her place in front of the fire, holding scrap piece of paper that has a hastily scrawled poem on it, in smudgy, inky lines.Turning to Rose she says "Cool poem! Can't wait to hear More." She clears her throat, her palms all sweaty, a stray lock of hair falling into her face in that annoying tendancy it has. She is not used to reading her poems out loud, and is worried her voice will waver and crack pitifully. Clearing her throat, she begins. I Remember As the rian slides down my skin, I remember. Remember waht it was like to laugh, To play, to enjoy the light of day. Nothing is right, Something is missing, Why can't I stop all this wishing? Misery it seems, Is all I'll ever feel, Will I ever be able to tell, What is actually real, Or just my thoughts? I'm on fire, I'm cold, Sadness written in bold, Good times, just faint lines. I'm falling. Will I ever be found Before I hit the ground? The Torch! The little elves hidden in the woods listen intently. They peek in through the branches and await the next ripples of a poem or bubbling story. The fire crackles. Lady Rain, whose dream job would be to make wings for pixies, attempts to focus. "I'll... I'll try to start a story?" She looks around for some encouragement. "The shellmaids of Shellma Shore were hardly a kind bunch. They kidnapped merpeople and hid them in the river where they were forced to look for gold. Arevira worked for the shellmaids." "Selling seashells on the seashore!" the elves giggle. "She guarded the mouth of the river where the merpeople tried to escape. They held sugar-coated branches across the water that drained the mermaids and men of salnergy that kept them alive." LLC- PDG Newbie! A dirty-blonde, medium height girl clears her throat nervously. "Well- most here call me Nicole." She is nervous but surely clear-voiced. "I'm not particulary good with fantasy stories, so instead of continueing Ms. jannie's lovely story, I will share an original poem instead."Sick from this pain, and dead from this loss. You asked and I answered, it was no secret I would say yes. But now you're gone and I am sick. Sick from this pain, and dead from this loss, was it so much to ask that you stayed? Was it so much to ask that at least I go with you? But now I'm stuck in a world, a world without colors, a world without emotion, a world without the only one who ever understood. I stand here crying, inside dying, lying when I say that I am happy. Lying when I say, I'll be fine tomorrow. -Dead, by me Ryan - Officially Published Ryan, the only boy to speak so far, glanced nervously around at his companions. Brushing a strand of blonde hair from his eyes, he took his place by the light of the fire and cleared his throat. Bracing himself against their expectant stares, Ryan spoke."Hey guys." He said, his false confidence sounding shaky even to him. "I'm not much good with poems, to be honest. I suppose I should try a story, or at least part of one." Gazing down at the piece of paper, he shuddered. This single scrap of paper held the weight of all their opinions. Suddenly it felt far too heavy. The weight of centuries seemed to press upon Jason, adding their mass to the heavy burdens he already felt. Magic was not something one took lightly, but he had never expected so much expectation. The entire room looked towards him, clearly expecting some glorious, thrilling speech. Suddenly, Jason's own speech seemed rather insignificant. He knew, as Auron of Magi, it was his duty to address his fellow Mages. He had prepared for that eventuality. What he had not prepared for was the vast crowd of onlookers who would also be listening. His throat felt dry and coarse, and Jason worried about how his voice would sound. Would it carry far enough? he wondered. Would anyone hear it over the din of the spectators? The time to answer these questions had come. He stepped up to the podium and, willing his voice to carry, began his speech. "Make of this small insight what you will. I can only give what I have." Ryan's relief at having finished was clear as he returned to his seat. Emily~Cowboys+Pirates=1791808 Hmm. Poems are what this group favors... Emily didn't consider herself much of a poet but being part of a group meant trying out new things... right?"Well, here goes, my first attempt at poetry that isn't for school, *takes deep breath*, Ohh, you know what? I can't do this." *The other teens around the fire yell encouragements* "All right, all right! I try again... *another deep breah*... You all know this is freestyled right, like I haven't written anything down or anything?" *More encouragement* "Okay, one last try... you might want to close your ears." Haikus are sucky I can never complete one Oh crud, I just did There was an uneasy silence after I was finished and then someone I couldn't see shouted out, "Encore!!" The cry was repeated by another groupie and soon a chant of, "Encore, encore, encore, etc..." was pulsating around the fire pit. "Wow, well that wasn't what I was expecting. Come on guys, that wasn't even good! But if you insist..." Teen Ink is awesome Encouragement always high Groupies chant, "Encore!" Rose Montgomery Rose stands up again. She looks around at her group and smiles.You all did very well, I'm quite impressed with your abilities, she says. Instead of a poem, I think I'll give you an excerpt from one of the books I am currently writing. The book is called Lifeless, and is written by myself and one of my friends. We've been working on it for quite a long time, and perhaps you'll even figure out why I named myself Rose. She grins before becoming serious. Taking another slip of paper out of her pocket and another deep breath, she begins. “What’s wrong Rose?” James mocked. “Are you too scared to fight me?” I clenched my fists and tried to ignore his taunts. I wasn’t scared to fight him; I was scared of the humiliation that would come if I fought him and lost. “I guess you’re too scared, like you always are. You never fight, do you? All you can do is run. Sometimes I wonder how you even got into this school.” That did it. I wasn’t going to sit there and take his attitude. I didn’t have to. I was going to show him, once and for all, what it meant to be a Montgomery. “You want to fight? We’ll fight,” I said fiercely. I think, for the first time, I actually surprised him. His mouth dropped open and his eyes went big. After a moment though, he recovered his usual lazy, sarcastic grin. “Took you long enough,” he muttered. “Go ahead and start,” he called. I ignored his mocking and turned my attention to strategy. I knew he was powerful in fire, lightning, and earth, and that I had no way to block all three in case of an elemental attack. Then it hit me. My sword! Impregnated with Angel Poison, it was the only thing strong enough to combat against his. I reached behind my back and clasped the hilt. At the same time, while he was concentrating on my sword, I reached into the compartment hidden in my belt and pulled out a throwing dagger. Flicking my wrist in the smallest movement possible, and sent it hurtling towards him. He dodged it easily. That small opening he created gave me the advantage. I brought my sword down, and although he tried to dodge it, it wasn’t far enough. My sword left a big slit from shoulder to hand. He ignored it, thinking that he would heal himself in a moment. Bringing out his sword, he tried to land a blow on my head. No doubt he hoped to behead me. I blocked it though, and we began a dance of swordsmanship, thrusting and blocking and anticipating each other’s moves. We were too evenly matched and knew each other’s moves too well. I needed something, and opening, or else he would most likely win. “James!” He turned as a reflex, giving me the perfect opportunity. I slashed out at his unprotected stomach and managed to slice him nearly in half. I looked at me with unconcealed shock as he frantically tried to heal himself. “It won’t work,” I said. “My sword has...something extra...and it prevents you from healing.” “You haven’t won yet,” he snarled, enraged. “You’re right!” I give a small laugh, since it was kind of funny. “I’ll win after knocking you out.” I took my finger and hit him on his pressure point, incapacitating him. He glared at me with unconcealed hatred. “Nighty night,” I muttered as I open a potion flask. Inside was a sleeping draft, one of my specialties. I poured the whole thing down his throat. He went limp and slumped forward on the grass. Rose finishes her story and looks around at everyone else. What did you guys think? she asks. Bookiemonster Rachel claps. "Nice one Rose! Very exciting, and I loved the sword fighting."Standing up, Rachel takes her place in front of the room. Looking undecided as to whether or not she should read poetry or part of her short story. But, after a few seconds, she decides to follow Rose's example and read a bit of her short story. She shifts from foot to foot, knowing that her story probably has a ton of grammatical errors. Clearing her throat, she begins. My lungs were on fire. All I could hear was the sound of my heart and ragged breathing. Nothing mattered except getting away. "Stop!" Shouted my pursuer, firing his gun. A bullet whizzed by my ear. That's a terribly funny thing to tell someone who is running for their life, I thought. And yes, I am able to have completely unhelpful thoughts while in mortal danger. If I could only make it back, I'd be safe. I kept running faster, faster, and just when I was about to lose hope. There it was. Home. "Stop moving dammit! I'm gonna kill you whether you keep running or not! " He shouted again, firing madly in my direction. "I don't think so pal." Ben! I'm safe! I made it! Ben stepped in front of my pursuer and former best friend, Alex. I couldn't run anymore, after I got about ten feet behind Ben, I collapsed, exhausted. "Ben, get out of my way. I have orders to exterminate her," said Alex with an icy look in his eyes. Tears were streaming down my face. What is this world coming too? My two best friends ready to kill each other, one ready to kill me. "I don't want to have to hurt you, Alex, but don't make the mistake of thinking that I won't." Ben sounded colder than I've ever heard before. Alex looked a little worried. Ben is one of the best fighters in the resistance. But then it passed, replaced by a hatred so cold that he looked calm. "I would love to fight you, but sadly, I have a gun, and you do not. Do you see where I'm going with this Ben?" Alex looked positively evil, taking aim, pointing the gun at Ben's head. My eye caught something moving behind Ben. "Ben!" I screamed. "Hit the ground!" Ben dropped like a rock, hitting the dirt just as a metal pipe flew over his head and slammed into Alex's chest, knocking him off his feet. I heard a sickening crack as one of Alex's ribs broke. He looked shocked for a moment, then a trans-portal opened up and he disappeared. I looked behind me and saw who threw the pipe. Rick? I was stunned. Rick was captured last month. We all thought he was never coming back. Rick dropped to his knees, he looked like crap. Like someone let their dog use him as a chew toy. I ran over to him. "Rick! You're alive! We all thought--" He raised his hand. "Not now Mia. I'll tell you all about it later, right now we need to get somewhere safe." Ben jogged over and helped Rick to his feet, looking just as surprised as me. "You look terrible." Rick chuckled. "Thanks Ben." We all hobbled over to our house, an old rundown building at the edge of sub-level one, the underground level closest to the surface. You see, the above ground level of the earth is reserved for those with power, money, or both. All the regular people were moved underground so that the rich and powerful could have their own 'Eden', as they like to call it. There are four sub-levels. each level going deeper into the earth's crust. All the levels are connected by a main-shaft elevator, but it's really only to send food down to the lower levels. Most of the people live in sub-level one. Only the miners really live in the lower levels, mining coal and other important materials. But before this all happened, I remember reading books about cities underground, and how everyone thought that it would be 'cool' to live in one, well let me tell you, it's no picnic. It's always cold and damp, and your not allowed to make a fire because the smoke would be unbearable. So basically, everything is mechanical, run by either steam, or batteries. Since electricity is hard to generate underground. Unless of course you count the main generator, run by a river that flows through the city. But that is strictly used to power the lights and charge batteries. How do we grow food you may ask? Well, we have a central greenhouse in which all the vegetables are grown. It's the biggest building in all of the sub-levels, and we all owe this horrible way of living to a power hungry scumbag named Malcolm White, the ' Super Genius of Tomorrow '. It makes me gag. He is the cause of all this misery. Because people believe in his whole ' Save the planet by dramatically reducing the population and moving the rest underground ' plan. Crazy right? Right. Inside the house, we layed Rick down on the couch. "I'll get some soup" I said. "I'll get some bandages." Said Ben. I was busily putting a pot on the stove, trying to scrounge up some soup for Rick, when Lila walked in. "What's all the commotion about? I thought I heard voices." I sighed, Lila is absolutely clueless sometimes. "I ran into Alex today." I said quietly. She went very still. "And?" she whispered. "He tried to kill me." She took in a sharp breath. I could see her eyes welling up. Alex is Lila's brother, and when he joined Malcolm, it crushed Lila. Malcolm was the reason Alex and Lila's parents were dead. And when he joined.... "Rick is in the living room." I said, knowing that she would freak. "What?!! Gosh Mia why didn't you tell me sooner!" She rushed into the living room, nearly knocking me over in the tight kitchen. I could hear her cooing over Rick like a lovestruck puppy. The two were inseparable. They would probably be married right now if they weren't fugitives running from a crazed scientist and his army of clockwork creatures. Ben walked into the kitchen and sat down at the tiny kitchen table. "I couldn't take all the cooing and junk." he said. I nodded. It was hard to watch. With the soup simmering away on the stove, I sat down next to him. "I thought you were getting bandages?" I asked. "I gave them to Lila. Rick is probably better off with her bandaging him than he would with me." He said, grinning at me. I grinned back. Rick and Lila crammed into the kitchen as well. "Something smells good." Said Rick. "I'm making--" I didn't get to finish my sentence because at that moment, I heard the front window shatter and the door crash open. Rachel looks up, grinning, knowing that she stopped at a cliffhanger. I hope you guys liked it. She says, looking a little nervous. The Torch! Lady Rain thought the last story was brilliant. She sits quietly for a very long time until..."It will rain that day," she says. "It will be the evening. I'm somewhere near a bus shelter, or a window. I can never tell. There's something made of glass separating me. The glass is cloudy but I can still see the people. I hoped they would remember me in all their happiness. But I don't think they ever could have looked back. "It's always been some sort of destiny in my mind - I'd arrive at the airport in winter, welcomed only by the gloom but I'd be happy because I would think that my life would be waiting for me. I'm keen to positive, but everything that happens when I step out of the terminal shows that things are bound to go wrong and yet I'm still enticed by the dream. "It's not even a real dream, I know. It's a hope that I can live happily ever after. The problem I know I'd face is memory. Even strawberry jam reminds me of people I'd leave behind, as well as characters in my favourite books." She looks around. "I suppose that was more of a reflection on future expectation and a rant rather than a story." LLC- PDG Newbie! Nicole claps vigorously. "Great job to all of you! Now you aren't the only one who posted a story, Ryan. Haha. I wonder what I should post....." she trails off in nervousness. Maybe one of her proses on emotion? Everyone seems to love that.... "Ok, I am going to read one of what I call me 'Chaos Proses,' because they each focus on one emotion and I post them on my wesite on a page called Chaos. This is one of my favorites, and actually shares an emotion I have felt before:"Distance Staring… waiting… wondering. I watch, as others fall, breaking down, crying. Where is the flood of emotions? I only feel empty; am I watching from a distance, because I feel nothing. That is myself, I think, moving through motions. There- that’s me, I’m sure, consoling the crying. Me, again, standing stiffly among the crowd, waiting for someone else to need a shoulder, a support. Racked by guilt, consumed by loneliness, lost in a sea of harsh movements- all descriptions of the emotions felt at a time like this. By who, I wonder, not me. I am still at a distance, though no one seems to notice. Why would they? I am just me, the one who picks you up, the one who never breaks down, the one who is everywhere- but no where. "That's it. If you guys want to see the rest, you can see them on website, http://alwayschaoticsoul.wordpress.com/chaos/ " Ryan - Officially Published Looking around at his companions, Ryan found himself impressed."Well done everyone. I thoroughly enjoyed reading everything. Since excerpts seem to be the order of the day, I'll share the first post of my Serial Novel." Reaching into the small pack at his side, Ryan drew out a large notepad, and flicked quickly through the pages. He stopped after several seconds, and cleared his throat. "Well then, here goes." He looked into the pages, and began to speak. Never listen to a Headmaster, especially when he's talking about his school. Karon learned this lesson the hard way. Headmaster Gyton had told him that joining the Academy would be the most exciting time in his life. Of all the words Karon could use to describe the place, 'exciting' wasn't one of them. The buildings, few though they were, had little to distinguish them. There was no dramatic architecture or bright colours; everything was flat and plain. Karon supposed there was some logic to that. If the buildings were particularly interesting, the students would be less focussed on their work. At least, that was the only logical explanation Karon could come up with. It was either that, or the designers of the Academy had deliberately made it the most boring piece of architecture in Carda. Glancing around, Karon found his eyes drawn to the water feature near the centre of the gardens. As it was the only place in the entire Academy that didn't cause intense boredom in those around it, it had become the most popular meeting place for the students. Not for Karon had decided early on that people were not, in general, compatible with his way of thinking. Karon liked to be by himself. It gave him space to think. The subject of his thoughts changed daily, but mostly it was about their studies. He had been at the Academy for almost three years now, had been achieving grades considerably higher than his peers, but his teaching was still limited to the four Basic Schools. It seemed unfair. Karon allowed his mind to drift over that afternoon's lessons. They had done little work on Focus, working on controlling an open flame. Karon never found this particular task difficult. Energy studies were another matter entirely. It took much of Karon's concentration to shift the mounds of dirt and mud built up by the instructor. As with all things, however, Karon's determination paid off, and the mounds reached their designated spot with time to spare. Karon's attention was brought back to the present with a familiar buzz in the air. The Headmaster was going to make an announcement. Karon wondered about the subject, then found he didn't care as much as he should. His attention shifted again as he heard his name. "...Karon report to my office. I repeat, could Karon report to my office." The Headmaster's voice was as deep as ever, and annoyingly loud. This particular message came with an image of him, stamped into the mind of every student, so they knew who was called. For some reason, the Headmaster wanted to speak with him. Karon was too bored to speculate. He stood from his bench, and made his way across the grass For those of you who want to read the rest, I will be posting more here: www.academyserial.blogspot.com Ryan returned the notepad to its home in the pack, and awaited the response of his fellow writers. Emily~Cowboys+Pirates=1791808 *clap, clap, clap* Great job everyone! All these things that you have posted are absolutely stunning!Rose: I love this fight scene! It had me at the edge of my seat! Bookie: Hey, this looks familiar... Didn't I review this? I see you've made some changes. Looks better! Jannie: Very interesting rant! lol! By the way, I love the colors you use, they are so cheerful! Nicole: Very moving piece! I will definitely take a look at the website when I have the chance. Ryan: Very interesting and it makes me want to read more! I'll be sure to check out the link. Alright, what I have to share is the first part I ever wrote of my unfinished novel, Agent 38. It is the fourth chapter, not the first chapter and since I wrote it a year ago, it has had many revisions. It is still being revised and any feedback you guys can give me would be much appreciated! I just joined a very helpful group that is helping me with my passive voice and my adverb use (both of which I use too much of). This chapter has not yet received the harsh scrub down looking for these mistakes, so it is not the best it could be. Still, enjoy and check my portfolio soon to see a more revised version coming soon! I held Ty’s hand as we shoved our way through the eager DC crowd. We found a relatively clear area and Ty’s green eyes pan over the heads of the gathered people. I realized he was mocking me and when I gave him a disappointed look, he laughed. “How do the folks around here check out, Detective Elizabeth Colson?” In celebration of my promotion, Ty had planned a special trip to Washington DC to hear the president give a speech on something political. I wasn't really into politics but I also didn't live under a rock. I knew that today, being November 8th, was the one year anniversary of the President's election. Although I knew Ty was trying to be sweet, this whole thing was made worse by the fact that the plane ride had been a nightmare. I had gotten no sleep and I was exhausted. I had sat in the middle seat with a heavy-set man on my left and Ty on my right. The man on my left seemed to instantly fall to sleep the moment the plane took off. He rested his head on the window and snored loudly with his mouth hanging slightly open, a trickle of saliva dripping silently from his lip. He grunted and squirmed in his seat constantly. Ty presently fell asleep as well. His cheek rested on my shoulder but, thankfully, he didn't drool. He slept like a baby for the rest of the flight leaving me to sit quietly, without moving, for fear of waking him up. Anyway, back to my promotion. Since I graduated from high school, I went to college and got a major in Psychology and a minor in Criminal Justice. I studied for 4 years then trained an extra 1 year as a recruit. I learned all the things I would ever need to know and, finally, I became a full-fledged officer. I spent the required 1 year minimum doing that, giving DUI tickets and such, but never saw much action. I longed for more work to do, so, just five days ago, I took and passed the lengthy exam to become a detective. This trip was Ty's gift to me and I realized, with a start, he was watching me expectantly waiting for me to say something. I put on a tough-looking face and, for his amusement, I let my eyes scan the crowd around us and then give the all clear. "They all pass inspection, except for that one guy." With my eyes, I point to a man who is standing off to our left dabbing frantically at his shirt front with a wad of tissues. "He just spilled his coke all over his front." "Oh! Just what I've been craving! Do you want one too?" He was talking about soda of-course, not the man. I nod and he disappears into the throng of people. I felt suddenly alone. Not alone, alone for there were people left and right, forward and back all waiting for President Stover. The crowd was a writhing mass of bodies jostling for the perfect position to view the president when he finally arrived on stage. Ty and I had positioned ourselves on the far right side of the crowd hoping to keep clear of the unnecessary pushing and shoving. Unfortunately, that plan failed miserably, and I was repeatedly bumped into. A few minutes after Ty had left, the collective mind of the crowd began to realize that the president's appearance was eminent. All around me, people were digging in their bags to retrieve their cameras and binoculars. But one man wasn't doing either of those things. Maybe he caught my eye because of his dark hoody pulled close around his face or the way his eyes darted back and forth, scanning the crowd. Or perhaps it was the suspiciously gun like bulge in the front of his zipped jacket that alerted my detective instinct that this was no ordinary sight seer. He was left and a little forward from where I was standing, about 30 feet away. As I was watching him, his eyes stopped moving and were now fixed on the lefthand side of the stage where the red curtains rippled, and then, there he was, the president, welcomed onto the stage with a roar of applause. President Stover was flanked by two guards and there were two more on either side of the stage. Stover nonchalantly waved to the crowd as he strolled toward the podium that was waiting for him at center stage, not knowing the danger he was in. The bulge in the man's sweater was now leveled at the waiting podium and I knew that I had to get to the hooded man before the president entered his line of fire. The crowd, and the Secret Service men for that matter, were all blissfully unaware of the gravity of this situation. If I didn't hurry, the scene would very soon go from blissful to full blown horror. As quickly as I could, without drawing the lunatic with the weapon's attention, I swerved around and literally pushed the ignorant by-standers out of the way. They were all so riveted on the podium and the approaching figure that when I barged in front of them, breaking their concentration, they swore and gave my nasty gestures, but I hardly noticed. Crazily enough, I even managed to bump into the poor man with the wet shirt front knocking his second drink out of his hand. His expression was utterly priceless; mouth a big "O" of surprise and eyebrows almost at his hairline. He gave me the finger, but I was already sprinting away from him. I vaulted over a baby carriage as the frantic mother screamed at me and then there was only a few feet of empty space between the man and I. A quick step forward and a messy football tackle result in the gunman and I rolling across the street. A blur of cloudy sky, startled faces and black pavement cross my vision and then I'm looking down into gray eyes opened wide in surprise, but more prevalent, anger. His brows crease together and he glares at me with as much ferociousness as a mother lion protecting her cub. I feel hard metal pressing against my gut and then two shots are fired. The back of my brain struggled to remember the training I had for just this situation. Then, like a light bulb switching on, I recall the information and jump into action. I was already on top of him, so it was fairly easy to wrench the gun from the mysterious man's hand. I flung it into the crowd where the closest people scrambled to stay out of the flying guns way. I was eager to get his arms secure, so I flipped him over and squatted over him, clamping my hands around his wrists. Vaguely, I heard gasps and murmurs from the circle of spectators around us and when I put my hand to my abdomen, it came away red; slick with my own blood. I look down and see a dark red stain slowly spreading across the front of my light blue tank. All of a sudden, my senses seemed to dull dramatically, so I didn't notice when the uniformed guards arrived. I toppled to the side when they yanked the man from beneath me. I lay on my side waiting for the pain to come, but none did. I was staring to get lightheaded though and my vision was blurring around the edges. My arms and legs didn't seem to want to obey my brain so when I tried to get up, I just flopped back into the dust. I hear myself grunt and wonder if my body is in pain but my brain doesn't recognize it. My eyes droop closed for what could have been a second or an hour, I didn't know. Then I feel the firm grasp of a hand on my shoulder and I squint open my eyes to see Ty's scared face blocking my field of vision. I shift my head and try to get up again but instantly regret it as a wave of nausea comes over me. My eyes come into focus and I see our two discarded sodas spilling out of their containers and mixing with my blood in a sickening brown and red pool before I sink into a sea of blackness. It is a cliffhanger, I know but here are the links to check out the rest of the story: My port: www.writing.com/main/portfolio/view/hawaiifoeva Chapter 1:
Carmela Moonblood The vampire lifted her head and looked around, ignoring all the heartbeats, she stood up. "Well done to you all! Now hear this short story I prepared earlier." To: sasha.webb@scientificresearch.com Subject: AGAIN! I have seen that thing that is in my house again! But this time, it saw me. It slowly came toward me. My eyes were frozen on to it and my scream was stuck in my throat. Are you and your team ever going to come and collect it? I ask because I am worried. As I have said in previous emails, it has blue shaggy hair, long sharp teeth and in the night I can here little noises coming from downstairs. They are mysterious and sound like another language but not one I have ever heard on earth. Help me! I am afraid to go downstairs and this thing is in my kitchen so I cannot get food without fear of being bitten on the leg by its long sharp teeth or hearing strange noises which means it is near me and its coming. Oh my god as I write this in my bedroom, I hear something on the stairs. HELP! THE EVENING STANDARD Local women goes missing from her home in London after sending an email showing distress of something unearthly living in her house! Local women Sarah Ash has been reported missing shortly after sending an email to a scientific research team saying something not from earth has been living in her house. The 24 year old who worked for the local bank called the police on Monday saying she needed police to come to her house to get rid of something monstrous from her home in London. The police simply dismissed this call as a prank or someone delusional. But shortly after this call her neighbour called in and said that she had heard screaming and signs of distress coming from Sarah’s household. Upon arriving the police found the house empty but for one thing: A tiny bit of blue fur on Sarah’s bed. THE EVENING STANDARD Another one! Local women, Sarah Ash, 24 has been missing since Friday and now another woman has been reported missing, with no evidence left. Penny Smith, 68, has disappeared from her house, next door to Sarah’s!!! This street is now being evacuated by police to make sure nobody else is harmed by a unknown thing. Forensic test’s on the fur have come up fruitless and everyone is getting increasingly worried. Is this a trademark of a serial killer or something more sinister? Is this some sort of epidemic? Turn the page for tips on how to keep you and your family safe from this thing! If you want to review it, check it out in my port!
Amber Latta A girl with medium length brown hair stands up and confidently walkd to the head of the group. Her stare is a bit cold as if daring someone to notice that she has absolutly no clue what she's going to say once she reaches her destination only a few feet away. When she reaches the spot in front of the fire she quickly kneels and begins franticly searching her backpack for anything to read. Notebooks, pens, folders, and single sheets of paper gather at her feet as she nears the end of her bag when suddenly she stops and pulls out what she's been looking for. She's heard everything that her companions have come up with, can her's hold up to such talent? She clears her throat which sounds about ten times louder then it should due to the silence around the campfire. "I apologize guys but I don't have anything verry short so I guess you'll have to settle for just a small section of a much larger picture that will more then likely only lead to coriousity and confusion, but here goes." Scapegoat. Proluge. "What is this?" I ask Tyler enthusiasticly, I had never tasted anything like what he had given me to eat. "What you've never had pizza before?" he asked in disbelief. "So this is pizza I've never had it before I had no idea it was so delicious. We don't have such things were I'm fro. We also don't wear clothing like this." I look down at my purple t-shirt and jeans. "We wear robes made of fabric that feels like water running over your skin, though some of our more casual robes feel like this." "Where are you from?" he asks corious and I grimace. "A long ways away." "Thats not much of an answer." he replys. "It's a long story and you wouldn't believe me if I told you." "I have plenty of time, try me." Rose Montgomery Looks like it's my turn again! Rose says cheerfully as she stands. Pulling yet another piece of paper from her pocket, she looks around and takes on a somber gaze. This piece is a bit darker, she says, but it's sort of my new poetry style. I hope you all enjoy it! She takes a deep breath, looking nervous and excited at the same time. Sighing, she begins to read:It’s not enough to know me To be my friend and show me That you care Only I know what lies in wait Only I know my fate I hide myself beneath this skin Terrified to let anyone in The truth haunts my every dream Every night you hear me scream No one really knows how I feel No one really knows what’s real I hide, I cry I am broken inside. She looks around nervously, waiting for the reaction of the crowd gathered before her. Hoping they liked it, she takes her seat again and motions for the next person. Bookiemonster Rachel is bent studiously over her homework, unaware that it is her turn, and that her friends are patiently waiting for her to realize this. She looks up, distracted, as she nervously tries to puzzle out the reason everyone is staring at her. Then, as if a light bulb appeared abover head, a look of comprehension dawns on her face. "Oh! Whoops! Sorry about that guys," She lets out a nervous laugh, blushing at her obviously lack of mental capacity at the moment. She assures rose that she loved her poem, and rises to her feet, tripping over the foot of the couch as she makes her way to her spot in front of the group. "This next poem is called Snowflakes," She says, trying to re-gain her composure. She begins...Crystalized angularity, Pinwheels of ice and snow. On the breeze they linger, With its ebb and flow. Spider webs of glass, Coalesce together, As the soul of winter, Intricate as a feather. Thousands dance around me, Melting on my skin, A tingling kiss of frosty bliss, As it melts the ice within. Rachel walks back to her spot on the couch, taking special care not to trip again. Sitting down, she anxiously awaits the commnets of her friends. LLC- PDG Newbie! Nicole drags herself out of her depressed/depressive mood and giggles at Rachel. Seems she is not the only one who has a habit of tripping over things that rarely move. Nicole thinks for a moment. "Well, I was planning on posting my newest Chaos prose "Perfection," but I think I will go for something that has a little more truth in my life right now." Pauses in another moment of undescisiveness. The song "You," "Motion," or the poem "Lost Binary?" She consults her friend Rachel. "Lost Binary it is, my friends." She takes a deep breathe and starts reciting.Lost Binary In the jumble of her mind there is no peace no serenity. Tranquility does not exist, in the chaos. We have disarray assaulting with endless images, we have disorder gripping with infinite touches and befuddled feel, and we have utter chaos striking with overloading din. The clamor reaches for her, disorienting tangling stunning spinning limitless information she can not process much like modern technology her brain, the computer the data, consuming space until there is no more room. Until she must shut down, lock it away. Hidden, inaccessible. Much corrupted, only as she wants to know it. No others can see it sometimes not even her. Lost, missing, intentionally unconsciously misplaced. With all of this, there is nothing left. It has enveloped-ensnared the room, it has invaded-devoured on the soul. "That's it! Hope you enjoyed! Check out any of the writing mentioned above at my website http://www.alwayschaoticsoul.wordpress.com " Ryan - Officially Published Ryan looks at the faces, all waiting patiently to hear him speak. He sighs. "You want me to talk again, don't you?"The group nods enthusiastically, no doubt out of anticipation for his turn to pass, and so return to them. He closes his eyes for a moment. Relax, Ryan. Don't get ahead of yourself. He opens his eyes again, seeing the faces still gazing at him with expectation. He puts on his best fake smile, one he had perfected over years of practice. "Alright, then." He stands, moving closer to the fire. It flares at his approach; a reaction to a gust of wind. "If I'm going to talk, I might as well tell you a story." He puts a hand into his pocket and--pulling out a handful of fine powder--flicks his wrist toward the flames. The powder catches in the fire, causing a plume of green flames to erupt skyward. He grins. The world knew the power of fire long before they knew of its importance. It provided heat, light, comfort. A fire on the horizon meant safety, for the most part. Then the speakers came. They knew of fire's true nature, it's true purpose. How they came upon this knowledge remains a mystery, but with it, they mastered that most unpredictable of elements. One speaker, Farain, had skills far beyond those of his brethren. For his skills, he was cast from their midst, branded a freak; an anomaly. They shunned him for his gifts, and left him in the dark and the cold. Perhaps this is what changed him. He disappeared into the Deep Mountains to the North, hiding away from humanity. He hated them, as he believed they hated him. Over the years, he grew bitter. He resented the world, and all those within. The Speakers became no more than a focus, rather than a goal. They would fall, but the rest of humanity would go with them. In his solitude, he honed his skills. He spoke often with the fire, learning more of its secrets. It soon became his lone companion, the one thing that stopped him drifting off into unending silence. The fire sustained him, changed him. He changed. At once, he became both more and less than human. His skills advanced, but took his humanity in exchange. Over time, what little compassion remained to him was lost to the fires of eternity, drawn away by the merciless creature he had become. In this moment, he decided. It was time to go home. When he first left the mountain, the open air was too much. He kept to the edges of the mountains, moving Eastward, toward the shore. On his travels, he met many humans. If any faith remained buried within him, those encounters stripped it away. They reacted not in kindness, nor sympathy; all they showed was fear and hatred. Fear was lost to him, but hatred, he had in multitude. He struck down all in his path; man, woman or child. In their faces, he saw himself the day he was cast out. They died for their fear. He grew more accustomed to the openness of the world beyond the mountains, venturing further from their safe confines in search of victims. To the South, news of the attacks reached the Speakers, and they realised their mistake. The set out to find him, to stop him, to kill him. He met them on an open field; a grassy plain far from the residencies of others. They stared at each other across the landscape; the Speakers seeing the monster they had created, Farain seeing those who created him. In seconds, the air between them became alight with bolts of flame as the Speakers sought to end Farain's life. Such an attempt did nought. As the air cleared, Farain stood, strong as ever, his skin glowing from the heat of the fire. He smiled at them across the plains, now charred from the searing heat. With a wave of his hand, the cloth about the Speakers caught light, captured in a flame beyond comprehension. It scorched them, turning their skin to a hardened shell. As they burned, Farain watched, satisfied in his victory. His hatred melted with them, fading within him. Then, as they drew their last breathes, he fell to ash, his task complete. Ryan returned to his seat. "I know it isn't great." He looked around them, his mood darker than before. "If you want literary gold, go read a novel. You get what you get." Seeing the shocked looks on their faces, he smiled a little inside. He looked to Emily. "Well, go on. it's your turn. Emily~Cowboys+Pirates=1791808 "Ooh! Goodie! My turn! I've been waiting for this!" Emily squealed as she leapt from her seat. "I've got a real treat for you guys today. My first real poetry! Yippie! It's kind of rough, but I'm challenging myself so here goes nothing..."Swallow's Love Gather close ye scabbards dogs. Plunk your rumps down on the logs. I'll sing like a whale, and tell a fine tale of love to you filthy hogs! It began with a widow, dignified as a swallow, who lived by the sea, so lovely was she, but all in her life was hollow. All day she'd gaze at the shore. Something that never could bore. 'til one day he stood, all shrouded in good, her lover, a ghost of war. Her iron-chested savior, surely came home to claim her. Undeniably. So effortlessly. But now his form was a blur. Gone just as fast as he came, back down to the Hellish flame. He is gone, alas, little bonnie lass. He doesn't belong, sweet dame. Not a sailor is immune, to being lonely as the moon. And that, lads is why, our stupid hearts cry, when we leave our wives so soon. Emily beamed and slowly made her way back to her seat next to the vampire. Although she tried to slow her heartbeats as much as she could, she could tell the vampire was resisting the urge to leap on her. Emily carefully found her place and then nudged the cold body next to her, "Psst. Your turn." © Copyright 2011 Rose Montgomery, Bookiemonster, The Torch!, LLC- PDG Newbie!, Ryan - Officially Published, Emily~Cowboys+Pirates=1791808, Carmela Moonblood, Amber Latta, (known as GROUP). All rights reserved. GROUP has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
 Log In To Leave Feedback |
Static Items
Books
Forums
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
