Hopefully this is in the right place...
What is your favorite scene you have written so far? I rather like one I wrote last night.
Turwaithel rolled her eyes and threw the knife again. Once again, it hit exactly where she aimed it.
“Good throw. I hope no one makes you mad, because they’d be dead in an instant.”
She retrieved the knife again, walked back to where she had been standing before, and turned to face Erynion.
“Funny you should mention that.”
“Mention what?”
“Someone making me angry.” And with that, she sent the knife flying, barely missing his left ear. It landed in the tree directly behind him, harming no one.
“It’s a good thing I missed that time.” She turned and walked away. Aranel looked amused as she saw the smug grin on her sister’s face, and saw the look on Erynion’s face. He actually looked a bit frightened, though he was trying hide it.
“You should have known to stop messing with her.”
“Did she really just try to kill me?”
“What do you think?”
----------
I'm a Christian, and I'll stand up for my beliefs.
33,410 / 50,000
Nov 7, 2009 - 08 12
Ahhh- if only there were game-type shops IRL:
“No, I think I can use some parts from it to upgrade BOBB,” Jeff replied. “Sure you don’t want the bullet casings, comm. equipment, and aquarium with toads?”
“Can’t get rid of the ones you got me last time, yet,” Mark explained. “You might want to try Al’s Potion Emporium on Sixty-Six, but he’s a bit too shady for me to deal with, and THAT’S saying something. Cash or store credit?”
“Got any elemental weapons or armor in stock?” Jim asked.
“What? You think this is Sue’s Magical Blacksmithy?” Mark jibed. “Here at Uncle Psycho’s, we only carry the finest new and used weapons for all your mass destruction needs! Earth, air, lightning, water, ice, fire, poison- you name it, we probably got a tool aligned to it.”
“I’ll take a crate of each alignment in 44 magnums,” Janet ordered.
Mark laughed, “Regular or hollow tipped?”
“How much for the Merlin’s Kevlar vests?” Rob inquired.
Taya stared on in astonishment. “He buys all that useless junk for an exaggerated price, and has just about anything you could possibly imagine to buy? I may still be kind-of out of it, but that’s just plain insanity!”
“Here at Uncle Psycho’s, we specialize in serving the criminally insane,” Mark pitched, hoping to pick up another customer.
“Well, he doesn’t have any potions, scrolls, or archaic tomes,” Harry offered to calm Taya’s mind.
“POTIONS ARE FOR DIRTY HIPPIES TO MAKE!” Mark shouted, trying to slander his competition. “Here at Uncle Psycho’s, we do have a modest collection of alchemical wares, however.”
“OK, you can get the fifty-cal mod for your Uzi, Bob,” Jim permitted. “But don’t come crying to me when it flings you back twenty feet.”
“Ouch, cracka! Good thing I know how ta heal a broken hand, fool!” Chester shrieked.
“Wow, I didn’t feel a thing through this stupid-looking shirt,” Mel noted.
“See, just like we told you- doesn’t matter how silly you look, as long as the armor functions,” Maura tutored.
Taya rubbed the tension migraine out from her temples. “Alright, I give up trying to figure this one out… Going with the flow…”
“…And two kegs of that Irish ale over there, Mark.” Jim concluded. “What’s the damages?”
“Deducting credit from this and last visit, total’s three-fifty-K,” Mark charged.
Jim reached into his vest pocket. “Here’s three-nineteen in cash, put the thirty-one on my company debit.”
“Thanks for your patronage,” Mark acknowledged. “And if you find any tentacles, especially space tentacles, or some mutant plant carcasses, I’ll make it worth your time to bring ‘em back. Know a farmer who really wants some decent fertilizer.”
Check out my blog for my current novel updates, past works, and more!!!
51,426 / 50,000
Nov 7, 2009 - 10 02
I love this bit of dialogue where the Grigori mom of my Nephillim character is asking one of her relatives for advice on teaching her son about their kind and how to develop his latent abilities:
“If you hadn’t let that thought cross your mind that you wanted to carry the old man’s offspring and if you’d made sure he was wearing a condom, we wouldn’t have to have this conversation,” Kashday said. “Or at the very least, could you have done what you did with the child you got upon Hatsumomo no Ikari?”
“And not told my son what he really is? Kozou would have my head if I had tried to do that,” Sabia said with a laugh.
“You had to select a man with a sensitive conscience and a desire for the truth to be your mate and the father of your offspring,” Kashday said with a shrug.
“I selected a man I was in love with, and I was in love with him partly for those reasons,” Sabia replied.
“Living as a human woman for two hundred years has molded you into one, for all intents and purposes, Penemue,” Kashday said.
“Aww, you make it sound like a bad thing,” Sabia said, with a mischievous pout. "And don't call me by my real name."
5,000 / 50,000
Nov 7, 2009 - 15 18
The one I used for my excerpt. It's Nova the armcat (screenname Felis Ulna) chatting online with Tom, her human/body.
Felis Ulna has started a chat with you.
Felis Ulna: Where on your arm does it hurt?
Tom Belden: Oh, about around my ebow. :p
Felis Ulna: Ebow?
Tom Belden: Elbow. Actually, right below it.
Felis Ulna: Would you describe it as burning or stinging?
Tom Belden: No, Nova.
Felis Ulna: How severe is it?
Tom Belden: Moderate, I guess. Why?
Felis Ulna: Is it made worse by exposure to allergens, moving, excercise, or playing golf?
Tom Belden: Yeah. Moving and excecise. What are you doing?
Felis Ulna: Is your pain or discomfort made better with rest, ice ,or anti inflammitory medication?
Tom Belden: No. Jim said it'll just get better on its own.
Felis Ulna: Pain or discomfort associated with recent injury or trauma?
Tom Belden: Lol. You could say that.
Felis Ulna: Is the onset sudden or gradual?
Tom Belden: I don't know, Nova.
Felis Ulna: Do you know if you have broken a bone recently?
Tom Belden: I have not.
Felis Ulna: You may have an ulnar nerve injury.
Tom Belden: ... Nova, what did you do?
Felis Ulna: Checked WebMD. You may have an ulnar nerve injury.
Tom Belden: Or maybe I have a cat where my arm should be.
Felis Ulna: Hmm. You may be right.
Felis Ulna has signed off.
55,000 / 50,000
Nov 7, 2009 - 15 45
My favorite is probably this piece here:
"There standing next to the fire was a tall boy who looked to be about sixteen years of age; he was clad completely in black which made him hard to see in the dim firelight. He had long black hair, and unusually pale features. His piercing blue eyes turned toward Demetrius when he entered the cave with the herbs.
Demetrius eyed the boy warily, and slowly moved his hand to his knife at his belt. As he did this he noted that the boy had his hand resting on a sword hilt. Demetrius’ knife was no match for such a large, deadly weapon, so Demetrius let his hand fall back limply to his side.
“Who are you, and what is your business here?” Demetrius asked coldly.
The boy just laughed softly, and looked towards the old man lying on Demetrius’ bed; he had a strange smile on his face, almost as if he were smirking at something.
“It’s funny you don’t know who I am Demetrius. There are only so many thieves and outcasts in this valley, and you and I are of those few.” The boy said, in a strangely quiet voice
Demetrius stared at him and remained silent.
“You probably don’t know my real name, but my nick-name you have probably heard many times. Most know me as The Phantom Thief, but my real name is quite different. My name is Torien Ransom. And the old man you just rescued is my father. Teirian Ransom.”
In truth Demetrius had heard of The Phantom Thief, he had heard that he was one of the most skilled thieves who lived in the valley, and his father, who Demetrius had rescued, was an old Warrior, who, in his time, was very famous, and well known throughout Vladimria.
“If this man here is your father, then tell me…Why were you not the one to rescue him, instead of myself?” Demetrius asked, accusingly. He didn’t know why, but there was something about this new boy, Torien Ransom, that he didn’t like. He had an aura of evil about him, or so Demetrius thought.
“That is a very good question.” Replied Torien Ransom, “Actually, I didn’t know where he had gone. I had been searching for him for a few hours before I came here. My father likes to take nightly walks in the forest. This night was no different than normal, excepting what happened of course. He was probably jumped on by wayfarers and robbed.”
Demetrius believed that Torien was right in his assumption that his father was robbed. But he had no intention of letting the boy know it. He instead remained silent, and began to clean the old man’s wound, ignoring all else.
“You seem to know something about healing herbs, and poultices,” Torien observed aloud, as he watched Demetrius crush the leaves he had gathered and add a little water, and carefully apply them to his father’s wound, with a gentle touch, so as not to cause the old man any pain.
“My mother taught me, she was a midwife, and she was skilled in the art of healing.” Replied Demetrius quietly.
Even though it was two years since the death of his parents it was still painful for him to talk about them.
“How interesting.”Torien mumbled softly, casually leaning up against the rough-hewn stone wall, as if he were enjoying an ordinary day, rather than standing lazily around as his father suffered in the same room.
“Would you hand me those rags over in the corner? I need some bandages for your father.” Asked Demetrius, who was tending the fire, and applying wet cloths to Teirian’s forehead.
Torien strode slowly over to the far left corner of the cave, and retrieved the requested rags. He handed them to Demetrius with an air of indifference.
Demetrius thanked him, and bandaged up Teirian without another word to his son. When he had finished he knelt by the fire and watched the bright orange flames dancing, casting shadows about the cave. He was deep in thought and hadn’t noticed that Torien had gone until several minutes later when he looked up to offer a meal. But when he looked up he found that he was the only person in the room besides the old man, who now slept peacefully on his bed of furs. "
Best of luck on your novel!
----------~Autumn Harper~
53,847 / 50,000
Nov 7, 2009 - 20 19
My "werewolf" makes it's first appearance:
Caitlin brought the chopper around and came to a stop by the road, reaching behind her to flip open the second secret compartment in her saddlebags, the one that held her father's Winchester 303. Setting her feet on the ground and bracing her elbows against the bike's swept back handlebars, she flipped open the nightvision scope on the rifle and took aim on the gray blur zipping across the field. She pulled the trigger.
The beast stumbled and collided with the ground, crashing end over end and skidding to a halt. Caitlin looked up from scope and smiled. Perfect shot.
“Caitlin, are you listening?” It was Jack on the police band. Naughty boy, hacking official channels. “How close are you?”
She pulled out the scanner and hit the send button.
“10-4 that good buddy, breaker break, over and out.”
“What?”
“I'm like right there.”
“Hey, who's there?” It was Lorraine. She seemed unhappy. “This is police band. Get off of it now.”
“Can you see it, Kate?”
“See it? I shot the motherfucker.”
“Who are you people? Get off this line. Larry do you hear this?”
“No Kate, are you crazy! Don't shoot it, you'll only piss it off.”
Caitlin looked out at plague wolf. It was rising to its feet and shaking its head.
“Hey, I may have a problem here.”
“Head towards the bridge, I'll try to meet you there.”
Caitlin nodded and tossed the scanner down. She didn't have time to think, the creature was charging her at full speed and pouncing. She gunned the engine and roared off down the road as it landed just behind her. She pushed the bike as fast as it could go, reaching sixty then seventy miles.
The monster was as fast as her bike. Faster. Within seconds it had caught up to her and was running along her side. She glanced over at it and wave of panic swept through her. It was no wolf.
If there was anything wolfish in the creature's fearful design, then it was this: Take the most lunatic, paranoid fantasies of those who have nightmares of wolves and distill them down to their essence, and you would have this creature's black blood.
It had no fur, only wrinkled gray skin like oiled leather, pierced randomly by bony black spines. It's heavy, wide jaw was full of needle-sharp yellow teeth that dripped bilious yellow ichor. Its feet were not paws at all, but rather six-fingered hands without thumbs, still distinctly human in the shape of their digits.
Not one of these alien features compared to the things eyes. It was the eyes that made Caitlin's heart seize in her chest; turned hot blood into ice. She couldn't count how many it had. A dozen, two dozen. More. Each a baleful red and glowing with an internal fire. They were all focused on her.
It veered towards her, half galloping and half leaping into the side of her bike. The impact was terrific and sent her careening across the road, desperately fighting for control of the chopper. Too late she realized where she was. The embankments of the bridge rose up without rails, and there was brief gap in which a particularly reckless or feckless driver could steer their car so as to land in the river. The beast had sent her flying through this gap.
She screamed and kicked down, tilting the chopper forward. Its weight fought harder against the inertia than her body, and it fell into the river on a more immediate arc. For her part Caitlin sailed easily over the chopper and crashed into the cold dark water well ahead of it.
The river slammed into her with the force of a brick wall, its cold water paralyzing her instantly; she sank. Realizing she was surely dead if she did not swim, she forced her body to react and respond, kicking and thrashing her legs and arms. It was too late; already too dark, she couldn't tell up from down. She lost track of time and space, tumbling in the cold waters of the Flathead.
8,582 / 50,000
Nov 7, 2009 - 21 01
Eh... I haven't written much... but my fav. scene so far is supposed to be really freaky...
'Leeann . . . We know where you are . . . we know . . .' The voices were back.
"NO," she screeched. "NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" the darkness was pressing in. A laugh came from the floor above her and another from behind her. "NO!" she began to sob, and then she stood and whirled around. The black was closing around her and she was alone. She felt the ground beneath her start to shake and her head began to pound. The voices were all around her, taunting her, yelling at her, laughing at her, mocking her.
'Leeann! Hahahahaha! We've got you girlie! Come with us, we'll make the hurt go away, Leeann!!!!! HAHA!' Then, a voice right in her ear.
"We've got you Leeann." She fell to her knees and let the darkness take her.
Yeah, she's supposed to be i a really big house, that echoes...eh...
----------~pshya!!!~
28,201 / 50,000
Nov 8, 2009 - 13 52
I have no idea where this scene came from or where it's going to go - it's not even connection to what's I've written of my contiguous story - but I like the way this snippet has come out:
"Yes, yes," Sarah said, her bosoms filling the sink as she stood on her toes to reach a jar of garlic. "This is really all you need. Our kind don't take to sicknesses and diseases, for goodness' sake, there's no need to fear infection. Take a seat over there, if you please."
"There?" Gregor asked, stepping toward a low table covered in a floral-patterned picnic blanket.
"Yes, there," Sarah replied, testily. "That's where I motioned to, isn't it? Just take a seat - there. Now lay down, and bite on this." She forced a bone between his teeth.
Also:
"We're all mad here," Tallow said, and shot him.
[Really cool banner goes here. So inspiring, so avant-garde, that you feel deeply compelled to click on it and check out the drivel I'm writing. You do, really.]
44,146 / 50,000
Nov 8, 2009 - 17 17
My favorite scene is the one I just finished. An African tribal civil war is about to brake wide open and the five characters fleeing along a mountain path have just fought a sorcerer's duel with the witch who controls the tyrant chieftain.
37,912 / 50,000
Nov 8, 2009 - 17 44
{she works at a library}
“Fine! It’s not like anyone will want to check it out today. Nobody is even here!” she yelled.
“Excuse me? This is a library, therefore there shall be no screaming.” The man said and stomped his cane.
Alison looked back and forth from the man to me, rolled her eyes, and went to the back room.
“I’m sorry, sir. She’s new.” I apologized. He nodded and put his books on the counter. Three Dr. Seuss books.
“I am quite positive you are wondering what an old man would do with such books. My great-granddaughter is teaching me how to read and suggested that I shall go to the library and check out a few of these books.”
“That’s great! How old is she?”
“Second grade, she is. Doesn’t it just warm your heart that a little girl would be willing to teach an old dog a new trick?”
“It does, sir. It does.” I smiled.
I JUST wrote that. It's my favorite. <3
63,051 / 50,000
Nov 8, 2009 - 19 08
The intro scene for female bounty hunter, Taja. She's not my main character, but she gives me quite a joy to write her scenes!
Far to the north of the government quarter of Khazalar, one body forced another to kneel by twisting the rope tied around the second person's wrists. The first raised a fist and pounded on an old wooden door, then looked around in the shadows of the narrow street. No one was watching.
The building's owner was taking too long. A fist pounded on the door again, more impatiently. A soft curse slid away from the captor on the night breeze.
Finally, the door opened, answered by a greasy little man with a long knife in one hand. He glared at his visitor. "Bit late for social calls."
"Not social. Decidedly antisocial, in fact. Need a place to stow this reeking bucket of crap for a few hours. You got a problem with that?"
The greasy man eyed the kneeling prisoner and lowered his blade. He knew it wouldn't do any good against his visitor now. After a moment, he jerked his head in the affirmative. "Only a few hours, and you pay me outta the reward."
"No one would pay anything for this slob, except hauling him away for fertilizing fields."
"Don't get cute. We both know how good you are. And how crazy."
"I'm not crazy."
"Sure, sure. Put him in the second room on the right. Customer just left."
"I'm not crazy! Say it!" the visitor barked, unmoving.
The greasy man paused, realizing he was in dangerous territory. "You're right; you're not crazy. I'm just grumpy. Can we move this along? You're bad for business."
The visitor grinned, jerking upward on the prisoner's wrists. "It's my business to be bad for business."
38,743 / 50,000
Nov 9, 2009 - 09 16
((All the characters are corpses, victims of a psycho throat-slasher, who have woken up just prior to their own autopsies.))
Melinda scratched the back of her neck as she watched the others bicker. They were all considering escape, but at the same time they knew how idiotic it was. Imagine: twenty corpses walking down the street with great big slits in their throats!
Dakota was all for it. “It would be like sitting up in your own coffin and yelling ‘Surprise!’” he exclaimed. “That would be hilarious!”
“For you, maybe,” Emily said darkly. “I won’t be responsible for giving anyone a heart attack so they can join us in our ‘march of the dead.’”
Mark and Dakota laughed. “Sounds catchy. March of the dead. I kind of like that. Zombies walking the earth, recruiting as we go.”
Melinda rolled her eyes. “You guys are sick.”
“Come on, we’re just trying to have a little humor,” Mark protested. “Or we’ll all just be depressed, dead, morbid stiffs.”
“Aim for a different kind of humor than zombie jokes,” muttered Joseph. “It’s not amusing when you are a zombie.”
Dakota sat down, mimicking Joseph’s posture. “So,” he said, pulling the corners of his mouth down into a deep frown and speaking in a gravelly tone, “let’s think morbid thoughts. What regrets do you have, Mark?”
Mark copied what he was doing. “Oh, I dunno. Everything, because I’m just mopey like that. Why think about happy things? Let’s think about death.”
“Sounds like a great topic!” Dakota pointed at an old lady named Mary Ann. She hadn’t said much the whole time and seemed content to stare at the wall. “Hey, what morbid thoughts are on your mind?”
She looked blankly but cheerfully at him. “I like baked beans,” she informed the group. “Speaking of, where is Joanna?”
“Who’s that?”
Mary Ann seemed confused for a moment. She turned her head back to the wall. “Fireflies look like stars, you know. My sister and I used to catch them and put them in jars. Then they died.”
Dakota raised both eyebrows. “Now there’s a good morbid topic! Dead lightning bugs!”
“Did I tell you, my husband nearly got struck by lightning?” Mary Ann asked. “Three times.” She nodded, a big smile on her wrinkled face. “Just standing there, minding his business. Poor fellow.”
“Did he die?” Mark asked.
The old lady turned to him. “Who died? Not another one. I can’t stand the memorial services here, you know. They drive me nearly mad.” She leaned close, confidential. “They call me crazy, but I think they’re asking for it. It’s all a conspiracy.”
Dakota grinned and jabbed a thumb at Mary Ann. “I like this lady.”
34,355 / 50,000
Nov 11, 2009 - 10 36
“Blue.”
“I’m blue,” my father tells me rather defensively.
“Yellow?”
“That would be me, dear.”
“Green…?” I offer up tentatively.
“I guess it’s red for you, Reagan,” Petra told me, and smashed a little pink woman into the front seat of my red car.
“If you knew that red was the only piece left then why did you even ask?”
“Perhaps she wanted to see if your destiny matched up with your personal desires?” my mother volunteered.
“Maybe she was just being annoying,” I mumbled, and my mother gave me a sharp look.
Nano '08 -- The Worth of a Pineapple :) :) (Winner!!)
Nano '09 -- Pocket Change (It will be a winner... don't you worry your pretty little head about it...) :) :)