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NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge 108 - "..."
- Thread starter Ashes
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But that's a gif dude.
crowphoenix
Banned
Glorious!
Like the hat?
Banned
Don't know if I'm going to do this right but I'm going to try anyway.
So good, you might think I might just be making this up as I go along! Neh brother. Look to the gaf logo and what do you read beneath it?
Believe.
Hey crow; hey rontio.
No silly. It has a thous-
Wait. I'm not falling for that. Just how stupid do you think I am to fall for something like that.
crow! We did you proud in the last thread, had a nice starts-in-a-tavern fantasy tale.
You gonna join us?
I heard he made his first million and now won't speak for less than a hundred dollars. Or the cat's got his tongue. either way.
On topic:
Normally, I can post normal like:
NeoGAF's Poetry Corner - #57: "Longing"
Go there. Don't go there. Whatever.
On topic:
Normally, I can post normal like:
NeoGAF's Poetry Corner - #57: "Longing"
Go there. Don't go there. Whatever.
subscribe and read what's on offer at the very least. 
Now you've done it. Watch this thread wither and die away cyan.
Speaking of withering and dying away, I'm off to see an amateur therapist for being in zane. Before I go, cyan, when's the November thing a ma jig thread starting up?
NaNo thread should go up this weekend.
I have an awesome idea that involves me having to write 50,000 words.
crowphoenix
Banned
I'm elbow deep in a 1600+ page report at work that's due next week. Functioning brain permitting, I will be joining in.crow! We did you proud in the last thread, had a nice starts-in-a-tavern fantasy tale.
You gonna join us?
Edit: I also read a story that started in a tavern. Gave me a damn fine laugh.
You? Never!So good, you might think I might just be making this up as I go along! Neh brother. Look to the gaf logo and what do you read beneath it?
Believe.
Hey crow; hey rontio.
British Monsoon
Member
I maintain that all the best fantasy stories start in taverns, or at least end up in them at some point
what's that you ask? what inspired me to come up with this theme?
Apart from my ineptness and laziness, it has something a little bit to do with this:
Is imagination more important than knowledge? Einstein
8 November 2002
Kathleen Taylor
@Cyan, I don't actually know what to write for nanowrimo, but where I tried and failed gloriously in attempting to explore the various ways of the written word last year, now I will try and fail miserably, to explore the human imagination. That is of course if we are human, and not on a server somewhere.
Apart from my ineptness and laziness, it has something a little bit to do with this:
Is imagination more important than knowledge? Einstein
8 November 2002
Kathleen Taylor
@Cyan, I don't actually know what to write for nanowrimo, but where I tried and failed gloriously in attempting to explore the various ways of the written word last year, now I will try and fail miserably, to explore the human imagination. That is of course if we are human, and not on a server somewhere.
SquiddyCracker
Banned
...
I don't exactly yet either, but there's still time! And don't worry, even if we're on a server somewhere we're still totes human.
I maintain that all the best fantasy stories start in taverns, or at least end up in them at some point
Lord of the Rings definitely has one or two. QED.
Like the hat?
Banned
I assume we can post whenever? Is there a specific format that people prefer, or can I just put the text in a post?
edit: durr, I should probably read that FAQ. Thanks, Cyan.
edit: durr, I should probably read that FAQ. Thanks, Cyan.
Post when you like, and as you like. Many of us post password-protected PDFs in order to keep publishability/ward off Evilore, but it's not a requirement or anything.
From the FAQ:
Like the hat?
Banned
Elfforkusu
Member
I like the way you think.
*nods*
Trying to weave in and out of three different threads. I'm gonna put off planning for nanowrimo for a bit. Can't think straight. Though I suppose I can use that to my advantage and think sideways...
..nah. Maybe not.
dragonlife
Member
Someone do an FFVIII fanfic.
Squall aimed his sword that was also somehow a gun at the batlike creature floating in front of him. He squeezed the trigger.
Quistis smacked him. "Hey. Dumbass. We're trying not to gain levels, remember? Card him."
Shaweet! Scored a spot at the Writing Excuses workshop/retreat happening next year (damn, that thing sold out quick). Should be a good time.
Congrats on getting a place at the workshop/retreat thing-a-majig.
wait a second... You do remember what happened last time you went on holiday? didn't we nearly burn the whole house down?
arghhh. run for your lives!
or not.
Shaweet! Scored a spot at the Writing Excuses workshop/retreat happening next year (damn, that thing sold out quick). Should be a good time.
NICE! Let us know how it goes on that Tennessee ranch!
Don't worry, I'll totally leave some fire extinguishers!
Also it's not til next year.
Valerie Cherish
Member
It's been a while, but since I think I can write 50,000 words next month, I thought I'd try to see if I could do 1,000 first...
Hello by Valerie Cherish. 508 words.
Hello by Valerie Cherish. 508 words.
John Dunbar
correct about everything
Aspect of Sky
It would not be the last time Herbert Ramsay would look up at the sky, but it would be the last time the sky would look back. Whether it would be the starlit heaven of a wintry night, the grey overcast castles of autumn, or the bright blue of a summer afternoon, Herbert would see up above what all men saw: the great void of space, a monument to our insignificance.
It was also the second happiest day of his life, the happiest being that glorious day in his early youth when he discovered masturbation. That was when he truly understood what being alone meant, and how to take advantage of it. It was that lesson in loneliness which prepared him for the loss of his sky.
Much like his brother, a former mad man of God who ultimately found his paradise between the legs of a tattooed French gal, Herbert had spent much of life convinced that the greatness of the world lay behind a veil of mystery. Our existence in this world was to glorify that mystery, our actions to wake echoes in eternity. Those thoughts he saw expressed in the sky, the countenance of infinity. But where once was solemnity, was solitude, an independence at the expense of forever. What was mysterious and magical now was natural, pure, free of outside influence. A life was part of a chain reaction set in motion at the dawn of cosmos and would occupy its reserved space for a flicker.
In his liberation, could what he had found replace what he had lost? Was his new-found happiness another illusion, a defence mechanism in an amoral universe? Earthly pleasures were all one could ask to fill the endless days of youth, but when the flesh grows soft and the mind weary, doubts arise that long for that enigma separated from mortal coil.
But now he was alone, and would have to live without his sky. He had drawn aside the veil and found the mystery less tangible than dust mites dancing on a sunbeam. He had awakened from a dream, and it excited him. Excitement, however, often wanes with the coming years, and Herbert dreaded the day when hollow loneliness should be all that shall remain of this frightful freedom, and the sky will never again recognise its own.
It would not be the last time Herbert Ramsay would look up at the sky, but it would be the last time the sky would look back. Whether it would be the starlit heaven of a wintry night, the grey overcast castles of autumn, or the bright blue of a summer afternoon, Herbert would see up above what all men saw: the great void of space, a monument to our insignificance.
It was also the second happiest day of his life, the happiest being that glorious day in his early youth when he discovered masturbation. That was when he truly understood what being alone meant, and how to take advantage of it. It was that lesson in loneliness which prepared him for the loss of his sky.
Much like his brother, a former mad man of God who ultimately found his paradise between the legs of a tattooed French gal, Herbert had spent much of life convinced that the greatness of the world lay behind a veil of mystery. Our existence in this world was to glorify that mystery, our actions to wake echoes in eternity. Those thoughts he saw expressed in the sky, the countenance of infinity. But where once was solemnity, was solitude, an independence at the expense of forever. What was mysterious and magical now was natural, pure, free of outside influence. A life was part of a chain reaction set in motion at the dawn of cosmos and would occupy its reserved space for a flicker.
In his liberation, could what he had found replace what he had lost? Was his new-found happiness another illusion, a defence mechanism in an amoral universe? Earthly pleasures were all one could ask to fill the endless days of youth, but when the flesh grows soft and the mind weary, doubts arise that long for that enigma separated from mortal coil.
But now he was alone, and would have to live without his sky. He had drawn aside the veil and found the mystery less tangible than dust mites dancing on a sunbeam. He had awakened from a dream, and it excited him. Excitement, however, often wanes with the coming years, and Herbert dreaded the day when hollow loneliness should be all that shall remain of this frightful freedom, and the sky will never again recognise its own.
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