Since I haven't made it to a single meeting so far, and I won't until next week, I thought I'd wheedle everyone into sharing bits and pieces of your NaNo that you had fun writing. ^__^ (One of my favorite part of the meetings is making people read me their work, so I guess I'll just have to settle for c&p.)
Here's one from me:
The mystery customer stopped rattling and started knocking. She was just about to go up front and tell them to knock it off when they finally got the idea.
Blessed quiet settled over the work room once more. She sucked the bead of blood from her fingertip and went back to wrestling with the ugliest wig she'd ever made, the silence broken only by her curses. For some unknown reason, the noblewoman who'd commissioned it had paid someone to bring her light-colored hair from far away. It was going to make her look old, Ketra thought, or like her hair had died and only a ghost of it still remained. To make things worse, long pale hair hadn't been available, and with all of it cropped to finger-length, the finished product looked a bit like an ox scrotum.
A sudden gust of magic blew through the shop. Like air, it ruffled what wasn't tied down, but unlike air, it also passed through the objects. She felt its cold flutter in her gut.
The person who'd rattled the door had broken the lock.
----------
"He has no enemies, but he is intensely disliked by his friends." - Oscar Wilde
17,437 / 50,000
Nov 5, 2009 - 08 16
I really want to keep reading this!
----------25,429 / 50,000
Nov 5, 2009 - 11 47
Awesomeness! I would buy that book!
Here's my contribution:
His golden eyes searched for his prey... There, at the edge of the trees, a fat, lop-eared rabbit! Lomere shrieked from high in the sky and then he was plunging towards the earth, his razor sharp claws extended to snatch the rabbit from beneath that mighty oak. He was young and virile, the last living son of his father’s line. He would prove to them that he was more than worthy of leading his pride when his father became too old to rule. He was only two seasons in age, nearly old enough for the Trials of Pantae, but more than ready to prove himself capable of surpassing this challenge.
He plunged headlong into something not quite solid. Whatever it was, it had spring to it. That was, until it came free from its moorings to fall over him, trapping him beneath it. Lomere screamed his rage to the skies. He was trapped by some beast he could not see! His claws ripped at the grassy patch below the tree. The rabbit had bounded away, the dropping beast having released its tether. He paused in his struggles and took the time to find the heart of this unknown beast. Where was the head and heart of this animal? No! He could not believe it, this was worse than he had first thought! This was no beast, but a trap! He had been trapped by a simple piece of bait! His father would never forgive this lack of intuition.
Lomere continued in his struggle to free himself, the net now biting into the tender skin beneath his wing feathers as he fought his inanimate captor. The net had such strength that the knife-like edge of his beak could not even cut through it. With a great surge of power, he launched himself from the now mutilated ground, wings outstretched to free himself from his bonds when he heard and felt a tremendous SNAP! The griffin shrieked in agony as he felt the strong, but hollow bones in his left wing shatter.
He fell to the side and roared out to his family, though he was far from the boundaries of his pride lands. He was alone here, with no one to come to his aid.
The golden sun sank towards the mountains and changed to a crimson glow. Lomere watched in despair as the sky faded from brilliant azure to cold, blackened blue. He screamed out again, warning his captors that even when caught, he was Griffon! He would not go quietly; He had no intention of dying... But he would throw each one of them into the dark pits of death. There was no better way for a coward who laid traps!
Lomere shivered beneath the strong netting of his trap. From time to time, he would release a shrieking roar to ward off the predators he could not defeat. The prince dared not sleep for fear of succumbing not only to the beasts which hunted in the night, but also to the cold that seeped into his sorely beaten body. To sleep now would surely be the death of him.
When the thin crescent of the moon was high over his head, Lomere heard a twig snap. He growled low in his throat. The sound was throaty and was ended with a short whistle. Another breaking twig brought movement within the circle of his sight. Something was out there. The prince raised himself as well as he could and let his feathers ruffle, expanding his size to make himself more intimidating. The mighty griffon’s legs trembled beneath him. Lomere was weak from pain and hunger. This would be a difficult fight.
----------"Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead."
-Gene Fowler
34,060 / 50,000
Nov 5, 2009 - 11 53
Aww! Poor griffon. I like how I'm not sure if it's someone who is going to save him, or someone who set the trap, or maybe both. :D
----------"He has no enemies, but he is intensely disliked by his friends." - Oscar Wilde
17,437 / 50,000
Nov 6, 2009 - 12 06
OK, I finally wrote something I feel like sharing.
“You lead the way.” The sheriff fell in just a shoulder’s distance behind Sheila and kept her pace while they walked down the icy street toward the copse of trees. “You know what Sadlermiut means?”
Sheila shook her head “No.” Sheila thought back to the sign in front of the lodge where she was staying for the season. The spelling of the name of the lodge looked more German than Inuit.
“Sadlermiut were the last of the Dorset people, the taliits. More ancient than the Inuit who have lived here since. The Sadlermiut had their own religion, their own language and culture totally separate from the Inuit. They had been here longer, if you can believe that. They were an ancient people poised on the brink of disappearing forever when the Inuit got here over 500 years ago. The last tribe died out completely from white man’s diseases in 1903.” The sheriff paused and Sheila felt the gravity in his story acutely as a white outsider herself. “Legend has it that the Sadlermiut were giant people, stronger than any other race. They battled monsters and repelled countless invasions from Vikings and American Indians.” The sheriff smiled at Sheila. “So there’s your history lesson for today.”
“Thanks! Sometimes I get so focused on the science that I don’t get to hear as much of the history. By the way, you said the land that the hole was dug on was protected land. What do you mean?” Sheila asked.
“It’s no secret that the climate here is changing. We are trying to do everything we can to understand and adapt but in some ways it is too fast for us. There is a local moratorium on construction until we determine the best course to take with repairing our infrastructure.”
“You mean you’re saving the city’s money to build new train tracks.”
“Possibly. If that turns out to be the best course of action.” As Sheila and the sheriff approached the woods they sun reflected off something. About 4 meters inside the woods there were some metal instruments on the ground.
“That’s my stuff, right where I dropped it. I wonder how we got here before the others.”
40,383 / 50,000
Nov 6, 2009 - 18 24
I want to read all these stories!!! Nice thread idea!
Mine:
The letter said:
Maria Elizabeth Sanders. Tuesday, 11:24am. Grey suit, red blouse, white scarf, black hair, black handbag. Catches a heel in the grate at LATITUDE, LONGITUDE, breaks her knee. Make sure it doesn't happen.
Eight hundred dollars were clipped to the note, enough to cover rent for the month. He had turned it over to make sure there weren't other instructions. There weren't, as usual. The pen must have been new though, because it had bled through the notepaper in spots.
So he was waiting at the grate, at 11:22am, reading a newspaper, leaning against a streetlight post. He watched for Maria, read paragraphs in the paper. Watched other people. Watched the grate. It was metal, and surrounded a tree for easy watering. Surrounded an oasis of life in the concrete. He saw her come around the corner, talking on her cell phone, focused on the conversation. Grey suit, check. Red blouse, white scarf, check. He sighed and lowered the paper enough that he could see her over the top edge. He knew it was her- the details in the notes were always extraneous and unnecessary. All he needed was a location, a name, and the event to prevent or make happen.
When she was close, he folded the paper and stepped onto the grate, looking at his watch to give himself an excuse for standing there. Maria looked through him, apparently not seeing him, but navigated around him, keeping her heels firmly on the sidewalk.
“... told you he'd come over to our side, Matthew,” she said to her phone. Then she was past him, her heels making a barely audible click against the sidewalk, quickly lost in the footfalls of the other pedestrians.
He smiled faintly. Such a neat cut to her life, almost surgical, and so many paths disappeared. Like every time, he imagined he could feel a life clicking together, like puzzle pieces, falling toward the inevitable. He was pretty sure it was just his imagination though.
He walked down the sidewalk toward the nearby park. The air was crisp and dry here, not quite cold enough to be winter but definitely hinting toward it. In the park, he lay the newspaper on a park bench, and sat on it. His expensively cut suit whispered against the paper, and he unbuttoned the jacket. A squirrel ran toward him, looking hopeful for handouts. It skidded to a halt and froze a few feet away, every hair standing on end. After a moment, he twitched a finger and the squirrel tore away from him, running to the nearest tree and racing up the trunk. He could hear it in the tree, quivering.
17,437 / 50,000
Nov 6, 2009 - 23 20
This is my favorite line. I can really picture the whole thing in my head like a movie. Good job!
----------17,437 / 50,000
Nov 6, 2009 - 23 23
Oh no, Ledian_Evrae. I am so sad after reading that. I really hope you post another excerpt later so I can find out what happened to the Griffon!
----------25,429 / 50,000
Nov 7, 2009 - 15 10
Hmmmmm... If I told you everything, no one would buy my book!!!
LOL.... I might post more later....
Ledian
----------"Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead."
-Gene Fowler
21,755 / 50,000
Nov 7, 2009 - 20 20
Okay, so I kind of want/need to read everyone's books now. Problem.
This was intense for me to write, but also a lot of fun. It's a little squeamish-making, heads up!
Before she could open her own mouth to scream, the beast had lunged from the stairs and knocked McKenna onto her back, bony hands with clawed fingernails scratching at her coat. Screams erupted from McKenna’s throat as the teeth filled her vision, yet all she could hear was the guttural, rattling breath of the creature pinning her to the icy concrete.
The inhuman jaws opened, saliva dripping out onto McKenna’s neck where they were positioned to sink in.
I’m going to die, McKenna thought, terror blurring her eyesight. The poor lighting of the stairwell seemed to flicker and dim – or was that what was supposed to happen before death? She clambered helplessly under the weight of the beast, her right hand searching through her bag for something, anything that might help. Why couldn’t she have been on her cell phone?
Her small white hand closed on the hat she’d been knitting for her father. He would never get it now. All she could see was teeth. All she could do was scream. Scream and watch the jaws get closer and feel the cold Teflon needle in her hand.
As the beast bellowed a hoarse cry for its kill, McKenna drove the knitting needle deep into its mouth, feeling it penetrate the membranous skin at the back of its throat. Its cry was cut short, replaced by broken, choked noises as blood began to drip down McKenna’s hand into her sleeve. The beady black eyes rolled back into its head to reveal filmy whites, and its weight sagged on top of her as it died twitching and jerking like a rabid animal.
40,007 / 50,000
Nov 8, 2009 - 17 09
Ooh, I love what everyone's written so far! Mine is not so imaginative-- a plain old messy divorce tale. Here's how it starts:
She was washing the dishes when he told her. Standing at the sink, her red hands immersed in chemically citrus-scented bubbles. She was half watching The Colbert Report reflected in the kitchen window and half listening to her husband, her eyes going between the two backward reflections. In between “The thing I’m trying to say is” and “I just don’t think this is working anymore” she realized she should have been listening to him a little more closely. She stopped doing everything else and listened, perhaps believing a little that if she really paid attention the outcome would be different. It wasn’t, of course. She watched her inverted husband in the glass, his not-quite-right mouth telling her he wanted a divorce, his not-quite-right eyes not quite looking at her. She decided to let her mind play a trick on her for a moment. It was a game they played sometimes, her mind and herself. She let herself check out of the real world for the time being, and let her mind convince her that things were different than they were. Imagine, her mind whispered seductively, right now you’re looking through this window into an alternate universe. This is not your William. This is some other William, telling some other June that he’s leaving her. When you turn around, you’ll see your own real William, and he won’t be talking about divorce. He’ll be talking about a client, or a case, or saying he’d like to go out for a beer with the guys. June turned around and met William’s wet gaze. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. She sunk to the floor, her back pressed against the kitchen cabinet, her wet hands turning her pink skirt crimson.
----------"Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way." --E.L. Doctorow
37,578 / 50,000
Nov 11, 2009 - 07 20
I also have this as my Novel Info excerpt:
“Hi,” I said. I stood on the opposite side of the table and didn’t sit down.
He glanced up at me, his eyes hollow, dark bags under them, standing out stark and zombie-like from the pale skin of his face. He just stared. I heard his stomach grumble unhappily, still unfed. His face might as well have been made out of wax.
I was torn, then, somewhere between the knowledge that if I wanted to even pretend I was a decent sort of guy, I’d apologize, and the worry that he might start screaming at me. I tried to remind myself… he used to be smart. Then he went crazy. Now he’s…
“Boy’s restroom, first floor,” he said, his voice odd and inflectionless. “I remember you.”
“Um…” I said. I glanced behind me and saw that two of the guys I recognized from the team were in the breakfast line. One of them looked over and called for me.
I tried to look John in the face again, but he was too creepy, so I tried to find something to stare at that wasn’t rude, and wasn’t him, and my eyes landed on the book in front of him.
“Whoa,” I said, taken aback by the notation I couldn’t recognize. “What math is that?”
“Calculus,” he said, his voice still flat. “Yes, I’m failing again. And no, I’m not hearing voices today, and I don’t have a split personality. Does that about cover it?”
“No, I mean…” I was tripping over my feet talking to him, disarmed by his expression, by how absent he was from our conversation, or maybe by the fact that he was there at all -- I had expected more crazy, or hoped for it, even. It’d be easier to take. “I wanted to apologize.”
“Someone’s filled you in on the tragic sob story of John, and now you feel like a s---,” he said. He prodded the eggs, stabbing completely through them so that the plastic of the spork clicked unnervingly on the pastel green tray. “Your pity is noted, but unfortunately, I’ve little to say to you except ‘get in line’.”
“It’s not like that at --”
“No? Then what is it like? You are a perfectly capable, beloved example of the deep dark poison that lurks in the hearts of men. The only thing that checks your love affair with casual cruelty is the sudden knowledge that you’ve been caught at it. Even when I’m lost somewhere in the inane misfiring neurons of my own insanity, I remember what happens, Alexander Freeman.”
I wanted to hit him. In fact, when he yelled at me like that, I was glad that he was crazy. He probably deserved it for being the sort of arrogant prick who thought he knew a guy after meeting him once in a bathroom.
“Hey,” I said. “I just wanted to apologize!”
“Save it,” he said. He slammed the calculus book shut and pulled it off the table in one motion, stuffing it into a beat-up duffel bag that sported the school’s mascot on one end and the school acronym on the other. “And pray that it’s only the school’s most amusing failure who sees what you are under your skin.”
MORALICIDE
Keffy.com
34,060 / 50,000
Nov 12, 2009 - 00 38
"Imaginative" or not, that was AWESOME. Have you given any thought to publishing your work?
----------"He has no enemies, but he is intensely disliked by his friends." - Oscar Wilde
37,523 / 50,000
Nov 12, 2009 - 22 08
Okay, I'll warn you, my writing is no doubt filled with typos and craziness you simply wont get. The fact that it's a dream sequence probably doesn't help. But I thought it was worth sharing.
Then Relkar was talking about this great new gun, "oh suuuure, maybe its not one of those new chicken-killing guns, but hey! Look at this scope, it never scratches, glares, and you can see through it at night and see your target but they are never able to see the light, then it also has unlimited ammo, and the barrel never burns and gets damaged, the firing mechanism never jams or anything. Oh honestly, if you just want one of those stupid chicken-killing guns go to Kas Kitallia or the Squireelies. Just trade in your swords and jewels I'm sure they'll be okay. And I do mean your most precious jewels and valuables and all. Especaily your swords, come'on no one really needs to go after the Shadow Dragons, they're just eating dead chickens. True, I am kinda glad this whole war between the chickens and Squireelies broke out, I mean, it stopped the entire Apocalypse and New World Order and everything! And no one is even going hungry because the chickens are getting killed and all. But come on, enough of that, this gun is cool. Just tooo cool, look at all these lazers and all. Red, green, blue. Everything you ever need. Oh sure you're just going to say I don't need it because everyone is so focused on the chickens and Squireelies! But who cares?! It's the most awesome gun ever! I didn't even get into the size of it and all! Lemme just show you--"
Relkar would have continued, except the chickens had just shown themselves over the horizon and the Suireelies were opening fire. There was also this traveling kid who went around playing the harmonica to get paid, he took all eleven of his pennies and bought himself a yacht off the coast of Venguel.
The Squireelies were rampaging after the chickens now and Dagnelmar was playing cards with the Havdins. The Elite Guards were enlisting to help all the poor orphans without harmonicas by picking flowers for them to sell and painting rainbows and ponies for them. Their morale was ever so boosted.
Suddenly a big huge hulking tank with 10,000 guns rolled up and a little eight-year-old blonde girl in a pink dress poked her head up and said she would join the fight and help the Squireelies because "they're just TOO cute!" There was also this random guy who set up a lemonade stand that also sold candy wrappers just because for some reason the Shad wanted to buy them. The Shad really liked buying a certain chocolate bar wrapper, mostly because they loved that chocolate. Meanwhile the chickens took over the entire stockpile of pens and paper and began writing newspapers in order to show how evil the Squireelies were. Of course the Squireelies weren't that bad and all, after all, they were supplying the entire world (with the help of Dagnelmar of course) with food. Everyone ate chicken day in and day out, as well as lollipops and then the little girl in the tank drove over and--
"Venkarr?"
He froze, that was Mazeylia's voice.
When you are stuck, insert a time-traveling airforce to bomb ancient beasties and wonders.
30,046 / 50,000
Nov 12, 2009 - 22 29
Okay, here's a tiny tad from my very rough draft--
"They're dirty old men."
"This from a boy with enough dirt on his face to grow a turnip."
"I work outside, don't I? An' I wash before I eat and before I go to bed--my sister sees to that. They never wash."
"Maybe those old men don't have a sister to make them wash."
"Grown men don't need a sister to make 'em wash," he responded scornfully.
----------2007 Southland (pfft)
2008 Inheritance (still working on it)
34,060 / 50,000
Nov 13, 2009 - 01 01
That's my favorite part ^__^ I don't care if I don't know what's going on, with you there's always a fun part anyway!
I think that might be why they acquire wives, though. I sure can't figure out what the wives would need them for, haha! (That's a cute conversation--I had a great idea of the kind of people both characters are, just from those few sentences.)
----------"He has no enemies, but he is intensely disliked by his friends." - Oscar Wilde
25,429 / 50,000
Nov 13, 2009 - 15 08
Sooo... Here's another excerpt........ Hopefully it will ease the minds of those of you who were worried about the griffon.....
A shriek pierced the night as Te`Lana moved through the trees. Never had she heard a cry such as this from any beast she had ever hunted. Slowly, she moved toward the edge of the trees, wincing with the snap of every breaking twig. She was young and had not yet learned the art of stealth. This was her first hunt alone. Te`Lana was sent away with no weapons save her dagger, two stones of flint rock, and Elvin rope. She was to hunt with these things alone.
She had been sent away from her clan at nine years of age. From the gigantic oaks of her home, she traveled with her mother to the caves of the sorceress, Widmaela. Each future queen for generations had gone to the ancient hag. No one knew her age for her life was timeless. Time had nearly halted for her as the rest of the living eventually passed out of this realm. Widmaela had been around since before the mighty oaks which were Te`Lana’s home. Widmaela had simply gotten older and older. Eventually, time could have no more effect upon her body. She was simply ancient.
Now, ten years had passed. Te`Lana was deemed ready for her first challenge. If the girl could prove she was able to hunt with nearly nothing. Then she could learn the magick that would make her worthy of her title. Silently, as the moon sank below the horizon, when the morning was till dark, Widmaela had sent her off to the valleys to the West. Each night since she had been gone, the hag watched in her silvery pool of water, deep within her cave, the progress of her young charge. She was quite pleased so far with her progress.
She watched, that was, until tonight. Earlier in the day, the sorceress had been called to the oaks to confer with the Elders on a serious matter. She had faith in Te`Lana, she knew no harm would come to the girl. This was a strong princess, unlike some of the more fragile ones of the past. Te`Lana would fare well without her seeing eyes to watch over her.
Te`Lana’s hair glowed pale in the dark night as she stood behind a tree. She unsheathed her dagger and slowly crept from around the towering maple. There was a huge form beneath the net, and wings! The sheltered princess had never seen nor heard of wings that big except in the legends of Pegasus. Amber eyes glowing beneath the net as she crept closer, the hunter was ready to leap to safety if the thing should lunge at her. She may not be well practiced at stealth as of yet, but speed was never a problem.
Lomere, sensing the hunter’s eyes upon his weakened wing shrieked loudly in warning. He would not go quietly, giving in to death without a fight. He screamed, half-roared and lunged at the hunter, but the net stopped him. White hot pain ripped through his broken wing and he cried out again, this time in pain as he fell to the ripped up earth beneath him. Claws and rear paws ripped at the net, tangling him further and tugging at the already painful wing.
Te`Lana moved closer, speaking calmly to the beast, “Easy now.... I am not here to hurt you. Easy.”
Closer she came before he snapped through the net at her, but not close enough, Lomere’s beak had missed its mark by several feet. She jumped back by a yard with a short squeak. “That was too close.”
Pausing, she thought only a moment before making her decision. Te`Lana raised her arms and whispered a few words, and the griffon shrunk back a bit and a series of rumbling growls, clicks and whistles came from the shadows of the huge oak tree. The dark shimmered around them as she lowered her arms and she heard a deep voice emerge as the visual effects of her spell faded.
“......hunter will eat me for dinner this night. Let me out of this net and see what will come of you. We will see which one of us will eat better tonight, Elvin hunter!” Each word was annunciated by a click or whistle and Te`Lana began to laugh.
“Stop pouting like a child, Griffon! Aren’t you a little old to be acting like such a baby?” She scolded him and the griffon leapt back to the tree. “What are you going to do, eat me while you are under that net with a broken wing?”
The griffon looked at with a tilted head as golden eyes flashed white in the darkness. He was confused as to how he could understand her, and she him. “Go away,” he snapped.
“Perhaps you think I will accommodate you and just jump into your mouth so you can have dinner?” She smirked as she scolded him. “Then, maybe you wouldn’t have to bother trying to free yourself.” She laughed then as a thought came to her mind. “Maybe, with the help of the animals nearby, you could just live under there, although, it doesn’t seem to be very comfortable. I could just have them line up and jump into your mouth one by one. How does that sound?”
Again the Elf woman laughed, and planted both hands on her hips. “Then again, I could help you out. You know, out of the net... That is, if you promise not to make me your next meal.” She watched those flashing eyes, waiting for his response.
“You have no worry of that, Elf. My appetite isn’t for scrawny creatures the likes of you.” He whistled that last word in a drawn out syllable. “Besides, I am saving my appetite for the coward who laid this trap.”
----------"Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead."
-Gene Fowler
26,793 / 50,000
Nov 14, 2009 - 21 38
From my writings. the context is a group of green berets fighting some demonic beast: (gore and language warning)
Stepping past a couple trees, I looked around at an area we couldn’t see before, blocked off by trees. I swept my rifle across my field of vision. Still just blackness. Then I heard it. A rhythmic huffing. The sound of panting when running. My ears were still ringing from the shots, I couldn’t locate it. It got louder, homing in on me. I heard the shuffle of feet dashing across the ground. I spun to my side. In the blackness was a shape on the ground, compact yet having a sense of great mass. It moved towards me. I could see rippling, the movement of large muscles as it came in for the kill. I fired in panic, I wasn’t holding my rifle right, and the shot went off at an angle. The huffing was almost on top of me now, I rolled to the side, evading its dash, I steadied my rifle, but there was nothing now, silence again.
----------My mind raced, the shape went through my mind, through connections, I was trying to make sense of what I saw. I definitely saw its full body in my subconcious, but I was trying to connect it to something I knew. The ideas clicked in my mind. Dog. The shape matched itself to images of canines, the muscles matched up to pit bulls and rot rilers. But there was still a disconnect, something didn’t fit, like a square peg going into a round hole. This thing that I saw, all I can say is that it is definitely almost a dog. Sweating, I spun around, realizing that I couldn’t see it because it had passed me. Still nothing. I had lost it.
I went back to the site, accidently startling some of my men, causing them to raise their rifles at me. “Chill, men.” They had obviously not obeyed my order to lower their arms. Baker gave a brief chuckle, I may have just almost been killed, but the look on my face must have been priceless.
“Men, there is some sort of wolf out there, it looks big, it may take multiple shot to bring it down. If it attacks, someone will be gravely injured. Keep a sharp eye, this thing wants our blood.”
My men pointed their weapons outward again. We were an offensive perimerter, it couldn’t attack from any direction without facing fire. I checked over my men to make sure they had their nerves. Cowels looked back at me. “Sir, I think its gone.” I hurredly tried to shoosh him, tried to motion him to get back in position. Then a mass crashed through the trees and knocked him down. The creature leaped on top of him.
This thing, I could now see it clearly. My mind barely held together on viewing its shape. It was a dog alright, standing over Cowled like a new kill, growling. But at the same time it wasn’t a dog. It was an inverted dog. That is the only way to describe it, an inside fucking out dog. Its red, wet muscle tissue was exposed, held together by an external frame of bone. Its rib cage covered its back. Its head, oh, its head was the most horrible part. A large skull was exposed, and through the eye sockets were blood shot eyes, human eyes, embedded in pulpy flesh, sinus flesh clung to the inside of the nasal cavity. The mouth, oh, the mouth, sharp teeth embedded in flesh growing behind the first set of teeth on its skull. This skeleton of a dog, with the warped skinless part inside of it. It was massive, at shoulder height it was four fucking feet tall. I couldn’t imagine how bullets could penatrate it. This mass of muslce could tear us all apart.
It thrust its head down and bit Cowel’s arm. He screamed. The skull jar clamped down on his arm, and I could hear the second set of teeth biting repeatedly, working on the prey it had trapped. A couple shot hit the beast, bone shattered, muslces rippled as holes formed, but the beast kept chewing. A shot hit it in its forehead, ricochering off above. “Hold your fire.” I said. They looked around confused. I didn’t want them to hit coweles. Blood poured from the side of the creatures jaw where it was biting Cowels. Olsen got out his knife and drove it into the creature. With a shrug of its shoulders it knocked him back, scraping its claws across his stomach. The knife remained in its flesh, twisting and breaking as the muscle moved around it.
I steadied my rifle and aimed at its neck. I fired, the shot just scraped the back of its spinal support. The beast let go of Cowels and reared its head at me. It roared, a continuous growl that filled my sould. The volume of the noise shook my bones. I felt all my strnght drain from my body. My insides felt as if they had melted. Its open skull jaw showed a gnarled, blood covered inner muscular jar. I was horrified at this brief glimpse, the thing inside its skull was a horrible, shapeless mass of muscle. A long tongue licked gore off its flesh. It leaped off Cowels, jumping through the air above me. The mass crashed down on me, crushing me beneath the weight of its paws, its great leg muscles twisting around the bones on the way up to its shapeless torso. It held its giant head over my face, its breath like a blast from a furnace, bringing with it the smell of corpses. Red saliva dripped down from its tongue onto me. Its held me down, the impact opened up the wound on my chest. Its humanoid eyes looked through the sockets down at me, the infected, yellow eyes scanning my face, deciding where to bite into. Bone chips flew off its skull as shots rang out, none penetrating. Blood splattered from its back, gobs of flesh flying through the air above its head. It opened its jaw to attack.
I realized that I had a free arm, I groped for my rifle and swung it at its face, the metal clanging ineffectively against its bone. It reared back to bring itself down on me with full force. I thrust my rifle up into its jaw, The inner jaw clamped down, the tongue wrapped around the barrel. I slipped my hand down and pulled the trigger.
08-The Wire Men
09-Prophet of Lost Children
28,818 / 50,000
Nov 15, 2009 - 00 24
i for one am totally on the edge of my seat here.
What next?
26,793 / 50,000
Nov 15, 2009 - 19 14
I decided to cut off before the long paragraph describing the beast's head exploding. Coweles will unfortunately lose that arm and he barely survives, for the time being. After this run in with the Hell hound the men witness the court sacrificing to their dark god. I'm going to write the first huge cult/green berets battle now.
----------08-The Wire Men
09-Prophet of Lost Children
34,060 / 50,000
Nov 19, 2009 - 12 37
Ledian, I'm glad to hear the gryphon knows who he should eat, and that it's not the poor elf. ^_^ It looks to me like she's going to help him out.
And Architeuthis, you have a great description of that monster. It's totally creepy and awesome.
My contribution is kind of a long one this time, but it matches the others! ;) And beware the PG13 violence. So: The god Thoth has been trapped in his ibis form, and he's been captured and placed in a private garden with a handful of other ibises. And now this guy shows up...
But under the silks and embroidery and jewels and expensive perfumes, there was something dark and hungry and smug. His eyes were made of shadow, as if they were nothing but pupils, glossy black holes that led into the depths of his skull. The man—Palus, his captor had called him—strode over to the pond and without preamble, stepped right into it and sat down, cross-legged. Scummy water settled onto his ruined clothes, but he paid them no attention. Thoth shrank away with the other ibises, but after a few minutes they relaxed and spread out again, some of them edging closer to Palus.
He studied Thoth with interest, and even though Thoth was in the midst of the other ibises, he had no doubt about where those dark eyes were trained.
“You're not like the others,” Palus said. “You're slightly bigger.”
Thoth took great care to look away and peck at the reeds, hoping he looked as stupid as the real ibises.
“I didn't realize I'd be able to see it,” Palus said, leaning in close. “You're remarkably...dense. Your ka packs that bird-shape, fairly glows with it. I know it's you. And yet, you're not much good to me if you scratch around in the dirt pretending to be an ibis. I need Words of Power from you.”
If there was any way to convince this madman that he wasn't really a god, Thoth couldn't think of it, and he was the god of ideas. The best he could do was hold out and refuse to make up any spells.
Palus laughed. “You know, you back someone into a corner and even if you can't read their mind the way gods can, it's damn close. Let's try it this way, Thoth.”
The monster's hand darted out, lightning quick, and snatched an ibis from the pond. It squawked, its body dangling and flapping from his iron grip on its delicate neck. Palus grabbed a fistful of feathers and drew the bird up to his mouth. His teeth were only human, bedecked in jewels, but their flat edges were enough to tear a mouthful of feathers and flesh off of the living bird.
Its screams scared the others, which flapped away to the far wall. Palus spat the red-soaked scrap of meat at Thoth and broke one of the bird's legs with his hands. The sound was not like a crocodile's teeth breaking the same bird—it was a drumbeat in a song of sadism, the first of many to come.
“Just think how much fun we'll have when I run out of birds,” Palus said. He grinned, every jewel on his teeth and beard tinted with blood.
Thoth trembled. Rage, fear, hate—his bird body was ill-equipped to deal with any of them. But he asked, What do you want?
"He has no enemies, but he is intensely disliked by his friends." - Oscar Wilde
26,793 / 50,000
Nov 19, 2009 - 22 06
Thanks. It certainly grossed out my sister. A friend on Facebook rather liked the phrase "inside fucking out"
----------08-The Wire Men
09-Prophet of Lost Children