Timewaster's Guide Archive

Local Authors => Writing Group => Topic started by: Fellfrosch on August 12, 2008, 06:55:48 PM

Title: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Fellfrosch on August 12, 2008, 06:55:48 PM
This is the official thread (for now) for posting your work for the Writing Excuses writing prompts. Please include the prompt itself at the beginning of each post, and try to limit your writing excerpts to reasonable size.

By the way, while here in Time-Waster's Guide land, Brandon is called EUOL, Jordo the techmonkey is called Spriggan, and Dan is called Fellfrosch. Howard is also called but not, apparently, chosen.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: stanmanx on August 13, 2008, 01:51:27 PM
Hey, thanks for the sweet forum space. I've never actually posted on the Writing Excuses site before, so also, hello! Thanks for my favorite podcast.

Writing Prompt: Develop a religion where people worship something that no one would ever worship in our world. And it can’t be silly.

Note: Despite my best efforts, this is still borderline silly... just try to take off our world's glasses when you look.

Practitioners of this religion worship the coffee bean. This came about because, at some point, warriors from this particular culture discovered that consuming coffee beans allowed them to stave off the magic of the sleep god and remain on the battlefield longer than their enemies. This enabled them to conquer their neighbors and establish an empire.

Originally, only the warrior class was allowed to consume the coffee bean, as they were considered the true strength of the tribe However, as the centuries passed and the empire was solidified, art and philosophy began to flourish, and the power of the coffee god was slowly made available to everyone at evening rituals. Eventually these rituals became available at several times during the day. The people found that if they stopped attending regularly, they were assaulted by malignant servants of their enemy, the sleep god, who gave them terrible head pains and forced them to sleep long hours.

Title: Re: the worship of coffee as a religion
Post by: mbarker on August 14, 2008, 05:18:57 AM
I know it's been a while since I took an anthropology or social sciences course, but I think we have quite a few undeclared religions around. I seem to remember that you needed to have a group, a common set of beliefs, some kind of practices, and the notion of some kind of sacred objects. It certainly seems to me that the lines of early morning devotees at Starbucks come pretty close to qualifying as a religion. Try getting between them and their coffee and you'll learn about heresy and excommunication.

I'm not quite sure why a religion including coffee as a sacred object is borderline silly? After all, tea was a gift to the Buddhists to help them stay awake. I think the story I've heard about that is that the first tea bushes sprang up where a devotee cut off his eyelids and threw them in the dirt. So coffee in support of another religion doesn't seem too surprising.

Although you might want to consider making it a cult of ecstasy? Several religions have had various kinds of intoxicants and stimulants as part of their religious celebrations.

Perhaps the real question is what coffee symbolizes in your religion. It sounds as if the world is threatened by the gods of sleep, and coffee (not unlike fire) was brought to man to help him fight back? So the world constantly is on the verge of falling asleep forever, but waking your neighbor and giving them coffee is a sacrament? Interesting, really.

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: stanmanx on August 14, 2008, 10:38:32 AM
Well, it's borderline silly because I imagined pointing out the Starbucks connection and combining it with a "lol" or a "rofl", rather than actual insight (keep in mind I'm new to this forum, so I have no idea what to expect from people).

Those were really good questions/suggestions. Now I'm actually putting more thought into it. I might actually do something with it beyond this writing prompt...
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: CabbyHat on August 14, 2008, 09:06:53 PM
OK, I never would have thought of coffee. That's pretty creative. Um... OK, here's the religion I came up with, it's kind of the only thing I could think of that wasn't actually silly.

This religion focuses on the worship of pain. Early on in this culture's development it was noticed that the sensation of pain always accompanied important, formative events, such as danger or significant injury; sometimes it even warned of worse injury, as in when someone had their hand in a fire without noticing - the pain would warn him to pull it out before badly burning it. Pain thus began to be regarded as a gift from the gods; an important part of human experience, to be cherished rather than avoided and sought after as much as any other feeling.

Any time one of this religion's followers gets a painful injury, he or she will try to hold onto it as long as possible; the wound will be cleaned to prevent infection, but left unbound and displayed as a badge of honor. Those who have earned the privelege will have their wounds perpetually reopened in a ceremony by the priests. These priests are those who have been honored with extreme pain - whether they were burned all over as children, mauled by wild animals, or have some sort of chronic illness that causes them to suffer, their frequent pain is believed to bring them closer to the mind of god. Women are more revered than men in this society because the pain of childbirth belongs to women. Lepers and those who suffer paralysis are seen as cursed and shunned, because they can't feel pain.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Reaves on August 14, 2008, 10:30:31 PM
there was a series of Star Wars books in which the galaxy was being invaded by a race of aliens who revered pain...They were ok but unless you are a fan of Star Wars i wouldn't read them.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: CabbyHat on August 15, 2008, 01:39:00 AM
Eh, there really is nothing new under the sun! And no, I am not so much a fan of Star Wars. Trek, yes, but not Wars.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Puck on August 15, 2008, 01:56:22 AM
are you kidding?! that's great! that opens up the way for other religions within the same system (making the one religion and the world more believable).
for example:
a protestant/heritic group could be one that still revered Pain as a god, but looked for ways to satiate her without experiencing it themselves. [enter human sacrifice-type degeneration.]
man, there are tons of possibilities! good stuff
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: jjb on August 15, 2008, 03:48:08 AM
How about a religion that worships color? The people believe that there is a specific spirit within each type of color. If there is a blue cup and a blue flower, both would be inhabited by the same spirit, but if there was a blue shirt that was even slightly different in shade of blue, there would be a different spirit. The strength of the spirits is based upon how pure the color is.

The pure colors (red, blue, and yellow) are the most powerful of spirits while green, purple, and orange are next in power. As colors become more of a mix, the spirits inside of them get less and less powerful.
There are numerous factions within this religion that are at constant war with each other. The three main factions are obviously for the spirits of red, blue and yellow. The worshipers believe that the spirits have called on them to get rid of all opposing color.

So, the worshipers of the red spirit will wear all red and their temple is completely red... you get the idea. Part of ridding the world of opposing colors involves assassinating priests of opposing factions. If the red priests catch anyone, they will open all the veins, making a lot of blood come out, and then they will spread that blood all over the captured persons (naked) body.

The blue priests wear all blue, etc. They kill their captives by drowning them in ice cold water...

Right now I'm not quite sure how the yellow priests kill. One idea is that they put captives in a cage out in the desert, letting the (yellow) sun kill them. That doesn't follow the pattern of turning the body yellow, though. They could paint the bodies yellow, but that would be too easy.


This was a really weird religion idea, but it seemed to me that if people can find spirits in rocks and such, why not take it one step further and find spirits in the colors, themselves?

And I apologize for my poor writing style.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Necroben on August 15, 2008, 04:08:32 AM
Writing prompt on religion.

My idea is set in more of a future time.  If the world as we know it were to end, we’d leave all kinds of artifacts just lyin’ around.  If one had never seen such things before and had no experiance with them they could be misconstrude as being Divine.


“O’ lord who stands before us.  Humbly do we ask you to forgive our trespass.  We will always come in peace and there shall be 'no' loitering.  All who violate the handicap shall be fined $200.  With these, 'your' commandments Lord, do we honor you.  Let us enter 'your' hallowed walls to shelter from the night, we beg of you.  Protect 'your' children from the darkness that dwells without, so that we may serve 'you' within O’ lord.  Amen”

Turning upon his heel the Shaman led the group of despondent refugees into the crumbling remains of a stone and steel building.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: SturmKrähe on August 15, 2008, 07:38:38 AM
I came up with something similar to Necroben's
I submitted it on 365 tales, but its not up yet so here it is instead of a link.
I hope its not too long a post.


The days of my youth are full of fond memory.
Jumping over stones pretending they housed capture spirits screaming MINE! MINE!
Or running through the tall grass playing at ambushing eastern heretics with my cousins.
But my strongest memory is one of pride, my Naming Day.
This I remember.
"We remember with you."

With excitement filling us we sat around the Smokey fire,Thinking of the three who would not join us in adulthood.
A shadowy figure walked towards the fire light, stooped with age, his face wrinkled, hard and sun browned like old leather, 
his eyes glittering like blue gems as he walked around us chanting in the old tongue.

MEM SLASH SEE he spoke.
Return we solemnly replied.

UNLOCK SEE COLON he said.
Return.

Standing before each of us in turn, he looking into our eyes,
he painted arcane symbols of the past on our faces.
I felt envy when he painted the marks of the Great Silver Bird on shadow-eye’s face,
but then he stood before me.

I speak to the window of your soul he whispered.
I await the prompt. I eagerly replied.
Sis runs-free colon slash See colon.
"return" I said, and a great dizziness overcame me.
visions of the days searching "Greatsidy" for my adult name flashed before me.

walking with caution and reverence across the strange black rock of Greatsidy, I whispered
a prayer to honor the ancestors in there rows of metal Toombs, and asked Greatsidy
for guidance.
Cracking thunder sounded in the distance echoing doom, a capture spirit claiming one of my fellow searchers.
My heart filled with fear, but I did not show it.
I held my place until night fall, Greatsidy had shown me a sign.

My heart leapt with joy when the craggy faced Puter shaman painted my face in colors
of bravery,loyaty, and wisdom. Red, green and gold.
Rename See Colon Slash "runs-free"  Yields-to-God RETURN!

That night I took up the shamans robes as well as my name.
I Yields-to-god Remember.
"We remember with you"
ENDFILE!
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: MrPaperCamel on August 15, 2008, 08:29:28 AM
I have run into a technical problem I think. I want to comment on responses posted before me, and I also want to post my own response. I know there is a no double posting rule but I am curious if this is random exception. I like to try and keep my thoughts very organized and together when I put them to paper so putting everything into one post seems counter to that. I can forgo that here if people feel I need to, but wanted to bring it up in case I can still adhere to that in some way I might not be seeing right now.

@jjb

Your idea of color worshipers intrigues me. I am very curious how this idea started in your world. Where did it start and how did it grow. Who started the assassinations  and the genocides?Might not be important topics, but those are the kinds of things I usually ask.

For the deaths from your Yellow worshipers, my first though went to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaundice. I am not sure how you would explain inflicting such a thing on a person, but not exactly my thing to research =p. If nothing else, hope that give you a place to start.



Writing Prompt:
Develop a religion where people worship something that no one would ever worship in our world. And it can’t be silly.

I envision an entire town that has been transported a few hundred years into the future. The town would be very small settlement of people in a pre-industrial society who are shifted to a time where electronic systems have been widely implemented and become more standardized. A highly technological society with patternized and highly recognizable systems.

The people from the time shifted town would begin to see entry systems as tools from the gods of access. Keypads and card readers would become holy objects to them. These objects would be how the gods spoke to them. Being able to pass into an area would be a sign of acceptance and great rejoice. Anytime you were able to enter would be a holy-ing experience. Anytime you were unable to access an area would be a sign that you have committed some sin. You would need to remove yourself from the group and cleanse yourself. You must purge yourself of whatever sin you have committed against the gods of access.

There also would be inhabitants from the current time period that begin to join this religion. All followers would be at first accepted, but soon a division of people from the original village and current time followers would emerge. The time shifted citizens would feel that they are the true chosen ones, and anyone from the current time period can never be as holy. Anytime a new time follower could not access an area, they would not be allowed the same leniency for cleansing. Since they were not of the chosen group, the could never be fully cleansed and would thereby be excommunicated.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: CabbyHat on August 15, 2008, 04:40:06 PM
Thanks for the idea, Puck! I also thought of a faction that deliberately inflicts pain on themselves, rather than waiting for it to occur naturally and blessedly, and were excommunicated for it but were too addicted to pain to stop.

Jjb, you have a fantastic idea there; I love it. And I can't remember what they are right now, but there are certain poisons that cause the skin to take on a yellowish hue after death.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Spriggan on August 15, 2008, 07:01:00 PM
Our double posting rule is mostly to keep people from spamming to get levels.  If you think enough time has passed that people may not see an edit because they've already read the post then feel free to double post--especially in threads like this which are idea sharing based, we tend to be less strict on some forum rules on threads like these.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: mbarker on August 16, 2008, 03:54:08 AM
Our double posting rule is mostly to keep people from spamming to get levels.  If you think enough time has passed that people may not see an edit because they've already read the post then feel free to double post--especially in threads like this which are idea sharing based, we tend to be less strict on some forum rules on threads like these.

Okay . . . um, where would one find these rules? I did a little poking around and didn't see a FAQ (well, I found one link to one that deadended in a broken link). Willing to read the rules, but I'm not sure where to find them? [Levels? We've got levels? Do we have ladders and snakes, too?]

And after another round of searching, by way of Brandon's intro, I found this http://www.timewastersguide.com/forum/index.php?topic=11.0

Still no ladders and snakes, though.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Necroben on August 16, 2008, 05:35:27 AM
SturmKrähe:

I like it!  Though I must say that I'm not as up-to-date on my computer jargon as I should be.  As such I probly missed some of what you were trying to get across.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Miyabi on August 16, 2008, 06:00:16 AM
The thing here being.  In the entire existence of the human race everything we come up with has probably been done at one point.  Even if it was just by a small group of people.

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Necroben on August 16, 2008, 06:19:05 AM
The thing here being.  In the entire existence of the human race everything we come up with has probably been done at one point.  Even if it was just by a small group of people.



That might be true, but the point I beleive is to make us think in a certain way.  See things in a different light maybe?  Many authors mistreat religion/spirtuality by not understanding where it is it comes from, and how to represent it correctly.  Although... I could be totaly wrong of course.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Miyabi on August 16, 2008, 06:55:17 AM
Alright.  I'll give it a go I guess.

A hundred years from now a large mass of people begin to see humans as being deranged and not of nature.  They feel that we need to become more like the animals that roam freely and in harmony with nature rather than destroy it to make their life easier.

After a generation or so some of the more extremists within the sect start to modify their bodies through rugged surgical methods using chipped obsidian and things of the sort.  These body-mods make them look more like animals.  Ex:  Splitting tongue, placing smoothed stones (or even bone) under skin to emulate horns or spines,  cutting cheeks and lip to make them look like that of wild cats, etc., etc.

At first these people are seen as odd and are somewhat outcasted.  Then, after another couple generations the main body of the group moves into this phase.  Over time the mods become more extreme.  The people worshiping the malformation of the body, feeling they are more empowered the further they get from being human. 

Soon it becomes custom to start manipulations shortly after birth, tying flat leaves tightly around the body and using sticks and other various tools to control where and how the body grows, similar to bonzai growing. 

The people begin to choose their leader by the degree to which they appear to not be human and worship this person as they idol they want to become.

Ok. . . so I'm a bit weird. . . but I think it's very plausible.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Fellfrosch on August 16, 2008, 07:28:54 AM
So here's an awesome fact I learned yesterday about the Garifuna culture in Central America. When teh Europeans first started settling Central America en masse they wanted to remove the Garifuna Indians as a military threat, so they started targeting all of the men and killing them. The men quickly learned that if they dressed up in women's clothing, the stupid gringos couldn't tell the difference, so they were able to escape death and, in some cases, mount successful counterattacks. To this day, the ceremonial war uniform of many Garifuna tribes is a brightly-colored dress.

That's not really a religious thing, but I thought it was a cool example of something that starts out kind of silly and, through cultural forces, becomes very important and serious over time. Taking weird situations like the ones we're talking about in this thread can be a great starting point when building any aspect of a culture, religious or otherwise.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Miyabi on August 16, 2008, 08:59:40 AM
Drag queens FTW! (And I mean that in a good way. ha ha.)
Title: Re: Worshipping Pain
Post by: mbarker on August 17, 2008, 02:09:01 PM

This religion focuses on the worship of pain. Early on in this culture's development it was noticed that the sensation of pain always accompanied important, formative events, such as danger or significant injury; sometimes it even warned of worse injury, as in when someone had their hand in a fire without noticing - the pain would warn him to pull it out before badly burning it. Pain thus began to be regarded as a gift from the gods; an important part of human experience, to be cherished rather than avoided and sought after as much as any other feeling.

Just wondering. Do worshippers follow the stoic path, refusing to react to their pain, or do they feel free to scream and cry? It seems as if the reaction would be a part of the experience, but I'm not sure how that would shape things. I suppose part of the question is whether worshippers are allowed to create their own pain (such as some of the festivals where people run nails through their bodies and such) or whether they are only supposed to accept pain when it comes "naturally." Which of course could result in some doubts as to whether someone had accidentally or deliberately put themselves into danger?

There's an interesting tie-in here to aging, since we tend to have more aches and pains as we get older. Clearly we are approaching the gods, and being blessed with increasing awareness of our own bodies. Oh, that works nicely.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Reaves on August 17, 2008, 04:47:33 PM
on a related note to pain and worship i wanted to draw attention to the flagellants. In the European middle-ages many people believed the more hardship you went through the more you were accepted by God. For most this meant monks were supposed to live a simple life, ie prayer and meditation, fasting, cold stone floors instead of soft rugs. However, the flagellants took this one step further and began lashing themselves with whips to show their devotion. During the arrival of the Black Death they did it to try to avoid the Plague.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Dangerbutton on August 18, 2008, 05:16:03 AM
Okay, depending on your level of maturity, you may find this one either disgusting or silly. Hopefully not silly, because these things aren't supposed to be silly....

They worship the process of ingestion and digestion. Ingestion, eating, is revered because it is a way of sustaining life. The land is close to barren, and food is scarce. Whoever can get food has clearly been blessed by the gods. While the food is being digested, energy and life is given to the body, and they are sustained by the mercies of the gods. At the end, the bowel movements are a sign of purity. All that was good has been used by the body, and the refuse has been discarded. It does not end there. The gods were gracious, and provided a use for the waste. As a fertilizer, it helps more food grow. It is the cycle of life, watched over by the gods.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: jjb on August 18, 2008, 08:41:05 AM
@ Mr. Papers Head

Honestly, I hadn't thought about the history of the religion all that much. This will be cliché, but the start of the religion was when some random guy who loved paintings started "worshiping" the contrast, etc. of colors and he noticed how each color had a different affect on his emotions (red is tension, blue is calming, etc). When he told his friends of his discoveries, they started noticing how the colors affected their emotions as well. From there, it grew.
People called the random guy their prophet and started to believe that there were actual spirits inside of each color, each battling against the others and trying to become the greatest spirit of them all.

As to who started the assasinations/genocides, there was a group of fanatics  of the red spirit who took to believing that the only way their spirit would succeed was if the followers of all other spirits were dead. Eventually, the priests of other spirits defended themselves and started attacking other factions as well. After some time, the assasinations turned into a sort of ritual, not only killing off the other priests but also converting them to the service of your own spirit.

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Eudaimoniac on August 18, 2008, 03:13:34 PM
Writing about religion...

This is not too far away from many things done/researched today, so hope it qualifies.

By the thought that all our actions are the result of 2 major factors each decided into smaller factors the believers are trying in all aspects of their lives to understand those two factors.

1:  Genetics - We are the genetic result of the merging of to sets of genes. These genes determine, amongst other things, temperament, moods and other psychological mechanisms.
2:  Experience - Our past experience shape our reactions and perceptions today.
(3: The belief that these two factors are the sole factors deciding our reaction patterns and psychological patterns excludes free will)

It started out merely as a philosophical debate but the development in areas such as mathematics and psychology gave way to some advanced computational models describing human behavior. The idea that our actions could be quantified and described mathematically combined with increased understanding of the mechanics of genetics led to the belief that all our future could be computed based on our genes and all previous experiences.

If we get maimed by dogs as a child we will be afraid of dogs later in life. If we are raised in a certain way, we will act accordingly later in life. So understanding the previous experiences and the way they are weighed in the development of the human psyche we can determine future reaction patterns. When we can predict future reaction patterns, how can free will exist ? It cannot.

This has lead to two different 'ways' within the religion of determinism.

1: The followers of this 'way' - 'the way of enlightenment' seek to understand themselves fully. To truly comprehend and understand each and every one of their actions in the light of past events. When then experience an emotion, they examine it and tries to determine where it came from and what past experiences has led to the feeling and the reactions in the first place. Only by truly knowing oneself, knowing why one act as one does will we be free. Only by truly knowing our past, and thus truly understanding the road we will travel in the future, will we be free to experience the way there. Absolved from the choices of the future by already knowing the outcomes of them we can partake in the enlightenment the journey will bring us.

2: These followers are perhaps not as much followers as they are opposition against Determinism. They have devoted their life and belief to randomness. The simple doctrine is that when true randomness is found it will prove that there is free will. If it cannot be predicted, there must be something else determining the outcome, and that is free will. Although they are opposite to Determinism, many of the same mechanics are involved in both. On their search for Random they have to find a way to see if something is Random or not, and in tat process all things not Random will fall into the realm of Determinism. Even though they use the same methods in their search for Random most of the time of these followers is spent on the search for Random in it's most pure form. A base Random.

This is a short description, but both can naturally be elaborated. As a religion this is fairly academic without wars or violence. the battlefield is the labs, the philosophical debates and the computer models.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Necroben on August 22, 2008, 02:34:47 AM
1: The followers of this 'way' - 'the way of enlightenment' seek to understand themselves fully. To truly comprehend and understand each and every one of their actions in the light of past events. When then experience an emotion, they examine it and tries to determine where it came from and what past experiences has led to the feeling and the reactions in the first place. Only by truly knowing oneself, knowing why one act as one does will we be free. Only by truly knowing our past, and thus truly understanding the road we will travel in the future, will we be free to experience the way there. Absolved from the choices of the future by already knowing the outcomes of them we can partake in the enlightenment the journey will bring us.

That one part was rife with possibilities.  I love it: the thought of taking someone at birth and then molding him or her to ' determinist's' ideals, then shaping that person's experiences just to prove that they may predict someone’s possible future actions.
That was the one thing that jumped out at me: Telling the story in first person, kind of a Flowers for Algernon. (sp?)
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Eudaimoniac on August 22, 2008, 12:47:14 PM
Don't know Flower of Algernon, but have worked a bit on this deterministic approach, and might do a short story about it...
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Necroben on August 22, 2008, 08:55:20 PM
Flowers for Algernon was a story about someone who was severely retarded going through an experimental treatment to cure him.  The main point of the reference was that the reader followed along from the patients POV.  (The Dr. had him keep a journal.)  We got to see him as he progressed through the treatments, and get smarter as he went along.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Elmandr on September 13, 2008, 09:02:39 AM
Quote
Develop a religion where people worship something that no one would ever worship in our world. And it can’t be silly.

The people of Anerea, they worship soil, dirt, or eath as they like to call it--sounds less demeaning. At the center of the tribe a large hole is dug into the ground. Large is enough to hold a priest and a handful of believers--this is where people came for forgiveness and prayer. They would pray to the dirt; the giver of plants and consequently food, and the wielder of trees that wall the outer lands of evil from them, it is also vast and stable--unless they upset it. Then it rages. It shakes them whenever displeased, it falls on them its mighty willows, and when it ceases, the villagers set out to look for the crack that has surely opened. It is here where they make their sacrafice--usually they slaughter a lamb or pig; they let the blood spill, and eventually drop it into the bottomless void. If famine occurs, and or the Rumbles do not stop--the sacrafices become more precious. The order of sacrafice goes like so; Lamb/pig, a sinner, a volunteer man, a volunteer women, a priest of the church, and finally a newborn baby. I'm really getting carried away--wow i make no sense.

Jumps into the Void.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: spejoku on September 18, 2008, 03:38:41 AM
We really should be getting to the other writing prompts.  My four different man scene is from the pov of a merchant, a wronged nobleman, a prisoner at the gallows, and a servant of the nobleman.  The scene is the prisoner's execution.

This would definitely be too long to post, but I'll put the first lines of each of the characters.

"Execution days were always good for business."

"Finally that filth would get what he deserved, he thought.  Besmirching my father's good name deserves a fate worse than death."

"He felt the cord settle around his neck and breathed a sigh of relief."

"Dust, dirt, lint, all were his mortal enemies.  Spotlessness was his goal and companion, for uncleanliness was undeserving of a prince's household."
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Elmandr on September 18, 2008, 05:15:35 PM
Flowers for Algernon was a story about someone who was severely retarded going through an experimental treatment to cure him.  The main point of the reference was that the reader followed along from the patients POV.  (The Dr. had him keep a journal.)  We got to see him as he progressed through the treatments, and get smarter as he went along.

Doesn't he fall in love with the girl doctor? then they see that the mouse, who was treated just before him, was receding. He knew, being smart then, that the same would happen to him, and watched himself grow less capable--mentally. He fell out of love with her eventually--i don't know that the gifted aren't capable of falling in love...
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Necroben on September 20, 2008, 02:48:20 AM
Flowers for Algernon was a story about someone who was severely retarded going through an experimental treatment to cure him.  The main point of the reference was that the reader followed along from the patients POV.  (The Dr. had him keep a journal.)  We got to see him as he progressed through the treatments, and get smarter as he went along.

Doesn't he fall in love with the girl doctor? then they see that the mouse, who was treated just before him, was receding. He knew, being smart then, that the same would happen to him, and watched himself grow less capable--mentally. He fell out of love with her eventually--i don't know that the gifted aren't capable of falling in love...

True.  Though the POV was what I had been referencing.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Necroben on October 22, 2008, 03:36:33 AM
We really should be getting to the other writing prompts.  My four different man scene is from the pov of a merchant, a wronged nobleman, a prisoner at the gallows, and a servant of the nobleman.  The scene is the prisoner's execution.

Mcht:  "She was just a girl.  Why?  Why would you do that to her?  Why my daughter?"

Wrng Noblm:  "I command you to take him down, now!  This cannot, will not be!  There must be some mistake! 
This does not have to happen!  Please!  Take my son down from there!"

Pris on G:  "I didn't do it!  I swear, it wasn't me!  Father, forgive meeee----grrahraalp"

ServofNobl:  Archibald laughs softly to himself.  "So begins my revenge."
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Reaves on October 22, 2008, 09:23:50 PM
lol nice.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Necroben on October 23, 2008, 02:36:04 AM
lol nice.

Ha-ha!  I got a reaction.  I think I'm getting better.  Maybe.  Kinda sorta.  Well anyway...

Edit:  10/23/08

Alright, how about this as a writing prompt:  First line/Paragraph Hook.  Anything at all, but not to long a paragraph.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Wolfstar on October 24, 2008, 03:08:55 AM
In response to the prompt offered above:

The bloodstain looked like the gaping maw of a dragon, when he looked at it long enough.  They always looked like something, just like the clouds in the sky always became an image.  Sorvwyn took a step to the right to examine the blot once more, this time reading a jester's hat, tilted to the side.  He snorted a laugh, instantly wondering why he could never take murder scenes seriously.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Necroben on October 24, 2008, 11:59:42 PM
Very nice. :)

This popped into my head.

911:  911 emergency.  Hold please.
Caller:  What!
911:  Hold please.
Caller:  Someonejusttriedtokillmewithanaxe--
911:  Hold please.
Caller:  --andIstabbedthemwithascrewdriver--
911:  Hold please.
Caller:  --andIthinkIkilledthem...eh...alright...sure.
911:  Thank you.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Renoard on March 26, 2009, 05:38:47 PM
Isn't this called Warbreaker.... ;D

How about a religion that worships color? The people believe that there is a specific spirit within each type of color. If there is a blue cup and a blue flower, both would be inhabited by the same spirit, but if there was a blue shirt that was even slightly different in shade of blue, there would be a different spirit. The strength of the spirits is based upon how pure the color is.

The pure colors (red, blue, and yellow) are the most powerful of spirits while green, purple, and orange are next in power. As colors become more of a mix, the spirits inside of them get less and less powerful.
There are numerous factions within this religion that are at constant war with each other. The three main factions are obviously for the spirits of red, blue and yellow. The worshipers believe that the spirits have called on them to get rid of all opposing color.

So, the worshipers of the red spirit will wear all red and their temple is completely red... you get the idea. Part of ridding the world of opposing colors involves assassinating priests of opposing factions. If the red priests catch anyone, they will open all the veins, making a lot of blood come out, and then they will spread that blood all over the captured persons (naked) body.

The blue priests wear all blue, etc. They kill their captives by drowning them in ice cold water...

Right now I'm not quite sure how the yellow priests kill. One idea is that they put captives in a cage out in the desert, letting the (yellow) sun kill them. That doesn't follow the pattern of turning the body yellow, though. They could paint the bodies yellow, but that would be too easy.


This was a really weird religion idea, but it seemed to me that if people can find spirits in rocks and such, why not take it one step further and find spirits in the colors, themselves?

And I apologize for my poor writing style.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Patriotic Kaz on April 02, 2009, 07:53:55 PM
THIS IS NOT AN INSULT!! Most people have little originality and spin off concepts based on works they recently read and liked. The funny thing is most people can not admit they lack originality/ creative thought (robert heinlien's character lazarus long says less than 10% of man ever has a single creative thought and he may be right) i personally believe i am in the minority but hey i may be deluding myself...
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Renoard on April 02, 2009, 08:02:12 PM
Oh I wasn't sneering just poking a bit.  I agree.  I think that borrowing elements can be fine, as long as you add your own unique interpretation.  I mentioned elsewhere that Rigney's great talent was borrowing elements from a disparate set of sources and integrating them so that they become his own and also work with each other.  Zelazney had that talent -- Pratt, Bradbury...

I was snickering not mocking.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: maxonennis on April 02, 2009, 08:13:15 PM
THIS IS NOT AN INSULT!! Most people have little originality and spin off concepts based on works they recently read and liked. The funny thing is most people can not admit they lack originality/ creative thought (robert heinlien's character lazarus long says less than 10% of man ever has a single creative thought and he may be right) i personally believe i am in the minority but hey i may be deluding myself...

I harp all the time on originality, but truth to be told, there is no such thing as original. Someone, somewhere has done it before. In fact, a lot of “original” ideas are the reuses of old ideas in response to something else being recently over used.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Renoard on April 02, 2009, 08:38:07 PM
To avoid getting the thread off track (and locked) I thought I'd add a prompt.

How about an environment where not only is hyper-orthodox Islam the dominant faith--Magic, Djinn and Angels are all very accessible (if rare).  All of this is set against a background of modern technology and physics.  In other words both science and mysticism are practical ways of achieving a goal and characters are forced to navigate the ethical and feasibility pitfalls of both systems simultaneously in everyday life.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: P.J. Becker on May 02, 2009, 10:31:09 AM
Prompt: Howard gets attacked by monkeys.

Please take no offense with the following story, I had very little to go on when I wrote Howard. Your podcasts are awesome and I have nothing but respect for you guys! My goal was to write without planning, I just wanted to have fun and get some practice. Enjoy.

-----------
     I suppose this story starts off like any other story. It was a rainy night, in a dirty town. I was at my favorite watering hole, the Sunken Sailor. Whiskey on the rocks. A bitter drink for a bitter man. My name is Charles Stone. I'm a PI, Private Eye, whatever you want to call it. A lot of people call me Bedrock. Why? I dunno, guess they think I'm a solid kinda guy. All I know, my night was going swimmingly, until he showed up.

     He came in through the front door, drawing everyones attention. Dripping water formed a puddle under his feet. First thing I noticed was his head, shining in all its balding glory. Two beady eyes peered from behind a pair of small glasses, broken in the center and missing one lens. Through the smokey haze of the dirty bar I watched him scamper over to the closest drunk. He had a twitchy bearing, as if every noise spooked him. He spoke to the drunk, briefly. Apparently he didn't get what he was looking for. Hop skipping to the next patron, he mopped his lustrous head with a dirty handkerchief, smearing grime across his forehead.  Darting eyes attempted to watch everyone in the bar while he hurriedly inquired with his newest acquaintance.  The bar bum hitched his thumb over his shoulder, straight at me.

Great, now I'd have to be polite.

As he hurried over to me, he attempted to straighten what little hair he had left, as though to compensate for his disheveled state. As he neared, I noticed scratches crisscrossing his fantastically polished pate. All along his neck, arms, and it appeared his legs as well.  Small tears covered his muddy clothes, and a water logged notebook stuck up awkwardly from his pants pocket. He stopped in front of me, silent for a moment. He adjusted his glasses with ink-stained fingers.
     "Ahem..." he started. "I'm told you are Charles Stone?" His voice reminded me of a strung out librarian.
     "You were told correctly...unfortunately." I muttered.
     "Ah, great...er, what was that? you trailed off at the end."
     "Nothing, my streamlined friend, nothing. What can Charles Stone do for you?" I asked.
     "Ah... yes. of course. yes...well, my name, good sir, is Howard Tayler, I am and author and an artist...uh...yes, um, I have need of your reportedly exception detective skills."
     The entire time he spoke his eyes flicked rapidly around, searching for some unknown danger, and wringing his hands. Something had spooked this man something fierce. Perhaps this case would be interesting after all.
     "What is it exactly that you require of me?" Who knows, I thought, Maybe this could be my big break.
     "Well, uh, you see, Mr. Stone, uh...well...I was attacked earlier this eve, and uh...need your help finding the fiends who perpetrated this  heinous uh...crime. yes."
     "Well, lets see Howard. What can you tell me about these attackers?" I took a long drink from my Jack, waiting for his answer.
     "Uh, yes...well. uh....they were monkeys, if I recall correctly."

     Why do they call me Bedrock? maybe its because it takes a whole lot to make me crack.  Howard Tayler cracked me up so thoroughly I nearly choked to death on an ice cube I started laughing so hard. Good thing for me he was a sport and clapped me on the back 'til I coughed it up.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: P.J. Becker on May 04, 2009, 01:01:41 AM
Here's another one. Prompt: Write about a passionate egg.

     Gregg P. Yoke had known Meggan Whites since their first day next to each other in the crate. It was love at first sight.  He realized life was short when the clouds opened up and God reached down to grab Meggan. He watched as she was cracked in half and her innards cooked into a delicious scrambled masterpiece. God grabbed Gregg next.

     At least I can join her in blissful gourmet sleep, He thought. "Journeys end in lovers meeting! I come to join thee sweet Meggan!"

     Crack.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: P.J. Becker on May 04, 2009, 03:06:04 AM
Well, I may be the only one posting these prompts, but I'm having fun.

Give us Winnie the Pooh’s big death scene. On a destroyer in the South Pacific:

     The Captain watched sunlight glint off brilliant cerulean waves. The S.S Hundred Acres drifted lazily in the South Pacific Ocean. Captain Pooh took a long sip of his honey, leaning on the railing and thinking of the past. Little did he know there wasn’t much time left to reminisce. When Tigger burst onto the forward deck, C4 strapped to his chest and madness in his eyes, Pooh reacted without thought. That willy, nilly, silly old bear ran toward Tigger, who was shouting at the top of his lungs,
     "Ill blow you all to pieces, F U double Ka ers!"
     In a final heroic effort, Captain Pooh tackled Tigger, sending them sailing out over the waves. The ensuing explosion only rocked the ship, while the crew stared on in shock. Brave Pooh had saved them all, even his glass of honey, still balanced on the rail.

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Reaves on May 04, 2009, 12:22:44 PM
LOLOLOL!!!
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Chaos on May 13, 2009, 07:10:27 PM
That is all kinds of awesome.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: P.J. Becker on May 14, 2009, 07:43:08 PM
I was hoping more people would post there prompts. ill just have to  keep posting until someone else does too  ;D
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Reaves on May 14, 2009, 08:35:15 PM
Please do :D
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Silk on May 14, 2009, 08:47:56 PM
If I ever get around to writing any, I'll post them.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: witchyfop on May 26, 2009, 06:10:50 AM
The death scene of Winnie the Pooh prompt lead me to writing this. It is a bit long but here it is.

                                                                                                           The Death of Winnie the Pooh

   His shirt was tattered and covered in stains as if it hadn't’t been laundered in years. His covering wasn't’t in any better shape. It was split in several places, and the patches that were so lovingly placed were leaking fluff. No, Winnie the Pooh had seen better days, but he still went about his life with joy and hope.
   On this day, he was busy about a spot of lunch with his friends. This was a joyous occasion since it had been some time since he had gone to see them. It wasn't’t that he didn't’t want to see them more often; because he did. It was just that his joints hurt, and he couldn't’t get around as well as he once had. With that in mind, Pooh decided he had better get along if he wanted to make it to his friends before dark. Pooh reached into the cupboard, minding the broken hinge on the door, looking for his last pot of honey.  Pooh had always meant to mend that hinge, but he never seemed to have the time. “There surely would be time later to do such things,” he would always assure himself. Finally, after much searching, Pooh found the honey pot. So with honey pot in hand, he headed for the door. Before leaving, he took one last glance around the room and decided he had everything. As he left, he walked under the plank of wood that once read “Mr. Sanders”; now that board was blank, washed clean by rain and time.
   Stepping onto the path a chill breeze blew. Pooh hardly noticed the breeze as he walked on thinking about nothing in particular. Nothing except that maybe he should have a taste of honey before he got there, just to tide him over. He reached into the pot and he stopped. He noticed the leaves on all the trees had changed colors. Everywhere Pooh looked, the trees were covered with red and gold leaves. Those same leaves covered the ground as well. In fact, a little further along the trail Pooh encountered a large pile of leaves almost blocking the path.
As he passed the pile he couldn't’t help but think of Rabbit meticulously raking the leaves from around his house. Rabbit would work all morning making a great mountain of color, his soft fur then matted with sweat, and his brow furrowed from the effort. But, before he could even take a break from his task it would all be undone. After all, a large pile of leaves never failed in attracting a Tigger and a Roo. The two of them would laugh as they jumped into the leaves, scattering them all about the yard.  Rabbit would demand to know just what they were doing. He would shake his fist and stamp his feet, and they would reply, “Jumping in leaves is what Tiggers and Roos do best.” This answer never seemed to make Rabbit happy though. After that, Kanga would take everyone home with her and make lunch. That was always Pooh’s favorite part. Jumping in leaves was fun, but nothing could beat a nice spot of lunch. Pooh couldn't’t suppress a giggle at the memory of his friends. He felt a little sad that he couldn't’t jump in this pile, but time was short and it would be dark soon. So with a sigh he left the leaves behind and continued on the path. As he walked, a sudden thought occurred to him. If the leaves had changed color and were gathering in piles, it must be fall.
   “When did it become fall?” Pooh said. “It was only just yesterday that it was summer. I sure hope it doesn’t become winter and start to snow before I get to everyone.”
   Echoing Pooh’s fear, the air grew suddenly colder, and the wind picked up in speed.
   “Oh bother!”
It wasn't’t that Pooh didn't’t like winter, he really did, it was only that snow made walking somewhat harder for the old bear, and he needed to be somewhere.
   “If only I had Piglet’s Scarf,” Pooh said.
   If he had Piglet’s scarf he would be warmer he was sure. It always seemed to make Piglet warm, when he was cold anyways. Pooh began to picture his little, pink friend standing in the snow and shivering. Piglet would always have that scarf tied tight around his neck. It was the only thing that kept Piglet warm after all. Besides keeping him warm, Pooh liked having the scarf around because it made him think of Piglet and that was always nice. In any case, he couldn't’t go back to fetch the scarf and still make it to lunch in time, so without this little memento of his friend, and a little colder for not having it, he walked on.
   As he went on his way, Pooh began to wonder. How many falls had he seen? He knew it must be an awful lot. He wasn't’t sure there was a number that went that far, and if there were, he wouldn’t know it if he saw it. It was at times like these that Pooh really wished he could ask Owl. Pooh could almost picture owl standing there, and doing the figuring for him. He could see Owl’s feathers ruffle in anticipation of the question, and flapping his wings when he had come to an answer. Yes, these types of ponderings were always better left to owl. It had been so very long since Pooh had had any figures done for him and they were really beginning to add up. Pooh had never taken to figuring anyways, he would rather just have some lunch, and then maybe, just maybe, a nap.
   Just as pooh had decided to leave the really hard thinking to someone else, he came upon a little clearing.
   “Oh Hurray!” exclaimed Pooh Bear. “I have come to the place I left to go to, and that is a good place to end up at.”
   All of this thinking, along with the walking, made Pooh very hungry.  So clutching his honey pot he made his way past a row of very small stones. Someone had placed the stones there some very long time ago, but Pooh couldn't’t remember why. As he sat on a small mound of overgrown grass under a very sad little tree to eat his lunch he started thinking again. The tiny tree so empty of leaves made him think of Eeyore. He thought his friend would certainly enjoy this tree as it was so very like him. It was quiet and small and seemed to mind its own business.  It didn't’t reach so high as to block out the sun, nor was it so short that it didn't’t give enough shade. No this tree didn't’t want to get in anyone or anything’s way.  Pooh thought that was very like Eeyore. So he sat under that unassuming tree and munched his lunch.  Warm, thick and sticky honey covered his hands and face, and by the time the pot was empty, most of the bear as well. 
   Just as Pooh had licked the last drop of honey from his hand he realized how very tired he had become. He glanced around at the little stones through eyes half shut with sleep. It had been a very nice lunch with his friends even if he could not see them. He decided to just lay his head down for a bit and take a nap. The cool breeze had stopped, and the sun was warming his belly. This always made Pooh very sleepy. It was only after he closed his eyes that he heard a voice he had almost forgotten.
   “Pooh Bear.” It called to him “Oh Pooh Bear.”
Pooh just knew he had heard that voice before.  Then, all at once it came to him.
   “Christopher Robin!” he shouted opening his eyes and seeing his friend standing over him.
   “Yes Pooh, I have been waiting for you.” Said Christopher Robin
   “You have?” Asked Pooh very puzzled. “But I have been here all along. You have only just come back.”
   “No Pooh,” Said Christopher. “I have been waiting for you for a very long time and you have just now come home.”
   “Really?” said Pooh “I am so very sorry to have kept you waiting.”
   “Oh silly old bear,” laughed Christopher, “come along, and I will take you to everyone.”
   “Christopher Robin?” Asked Pooh bear as he took Christopher Robin’s outstretched hand.
   “Yes Pooh bear” replied the small boy.
   “Do I ever have to leave you again?” Asked Pooh quietly.
   “No, Pooh Bear, we can stay together forever.” Said Christopher Robin with a smile.
   “That’s good, because I have recently run out of honey.” Said Pooh.
   The two walked off together holding hands and laughing, and snow began to fall. It was just then that in a small clearing next to a row of stones, and under a sad little tree, an old toy bear covered in stains and patches finally made it to his friends.
   
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Faster Master St. Pastor on May 26, 2009, 03:13:01 PM
Wow, I was expecting something much different.  I like it.  Slightly emotional for me, even though I never got into Winnie the Pooh.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Valkynphyre on June 01, 2010, 10:37:57 PM
Writing Prompt: For some reason, 1000 years in the future the most cost-effective publishing involves writing on human skin…



        Lorelai touched the rough skin of the strange construct. Assymetrical and gangly, The growing structure had strange green thin things... growing from the arms. Arms that split from the thin center post and curved down to the ground. It resembled a large tent in ways. Why someone would design this was beyond her, but it was beautiful. And green. Green had never been used in buildings that she remembered. Always grey or beige or a light blue to calm the "public menace" into somnambulance. Yeah. That always worked. Idiots.
        She took out her needle. Surely this was worthy of the space on her palm. Her mother had sold her entire forehead for a month's worth of rent. Some suicimo poetry about a guy forgoing customs of excersises and hating the sky or hating people. Idiocy. But the man was an Inker, and paid well. Thirty seven etchings. They had sweetbreads that night.
        She cleaned her palm with an alcohol solution, washing the dirt away. She always kept it dirty, especially around her mother. But she was three days gone now. An Inkster didn't appreciate the work she did on his tongue. Apparently, the fire needed to have more prongs. Idiots.
        Lorelai shivered, tracing her palm with reverence. She attached the cartridge to the needle and pushed it into her skin. The pain helped her grey lines stay straight. An upright column with arms that arched high and dropped down to the ground, hiding the column from rain and sun.
        A light brown followed, then light green, then a dark green. Done, but what to name it. Bastion? Tungs?
        Willow. After her mother.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Valkynphyre on June 24, 2010, 08:44:01 PM
It seems I have killed this thread. My bad.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Renoard on June 24, 2010, 10:41:05 PM
Naw, Howard killed it. I saw him. Yeah. That's the ticket!
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: fardawg on July 27, 2010, 03:09:12 PM
PROMPT: A man stumbles through the desert and is aided in some way by a headless monkey.



   The man slowly crawled through the blistering sands, the raw heat of the inferno known as the sun beating him down with his every aching move. His skin was dried and cracked; soon his withered form would seem like another wasted feature of the hellish Sea of The Dead.  Yet, he continued to move with the a stoic determination beyond that of a normal man. He was the last hope of his people; the last of the band of heroes that set out from the village so long ago.  The others had fallen many long miles behind him, their bones claimed by the desiccating sands.  He had to go on or his entire tribe would vanish with him. Despite this ever present knowledge, he knew that his will could not continue to fuel his disobedient frame. He knew his time, and that of his tribe, was coming to a bitter end.
   Jarrak, for that was his name, lifted his head for the fist time in the long months of traversing the desert.  Long ago, soon after his last companion fell, he had determined to never look ahead. He knew that if he could see the vast, unending waste before him, he could never continue.  But now, after all the time spent resisting, he had finally given in to the call of the desert sirens, the strange voices singing songs of respite from the long journey. All travelers of the desert heard their song eventually,  but Jarrak knew they lied with every breath. It was not respite, but the repose of death that they lulled men to.  At last, their sensuous song had penetrated into his deepest being and crushed the last remnants of his will - determined though it was - between their steely grip.
   Yet, when he looked up to embrace his doom, he saw in the waves of the unending sea of sand… a figure.
   The small being was swaying from side to side as it came closer to him.  Jarrak thought he was seeing a ghost image. He had seen them before, they all had. Several times he and his companions had ran to a shimmering oasis, only to find the image fading as they came near, a trick of the demons of the desert. But this was different. The closer the figure came, the clearer in was. But, as it came into view, Jarrak wished it had been the trick of a demon.
   The monkey had no head.  It was a normal, lively monkey in all other respects, it only lacked a head. Jarrak had seen many monkeys as they played in the jungles of Gathar. And he tried to remember if he had ever seen one without a head. He tried hard to remember, but, no, all of the monkeys in his mind definitely had heads on their shoulders.
   As he stared at the bouncing creature, he heard a strange noise. It was a steady, repeating  beeping noise. It corresponded to the flashing light that was now coming from the neck of the headless monkey. For where the head would normally join with the torso, was a metal plate with a series of circuits and wires running across it. Among these were a series of colored lights that flashed on and off.  At the beeping, the monkey jumped several times and then proceeded to take off the leather satchel that it was carrying. Jarrak had not noticed the satchel before, as his attention was consumed by the headlessness of the monkey.
   Soon, the monkey was ministering to Jarrak’s wounds. Jarrak thought to himself that the headless one, as he now thought of it, had produced the food, water, and medicine from the leather pouch as easily as a monkey who still had a head. No… better than a head-ed monkey.
  After several hours, Jarrak was well enough to travel. The monkey, though voiceless, made it clear by his gestures that Jarrak was to follow him. “Who am I to argue with a headless monkey?” he said out loud. It had been so long since he had talked that Jarrak was surprised that he still could.
   And so, Jarrak and the headless monkey began to walk, the harsh heat of the setting sun giving way to the cool of the evening. Jarrak wondered who it was that had sent the monkey to rescue him. Was it someone from the Temple of Light? Has my journey finally come to an end?
                                                                               -------------------------------------------------------
   The journey of Jarrak had indeed come to an end as the  sandy waves of the Sea of The Dead washed over his lifeless body, covering any trace that he had traversed its blistering torrents.
                                                                                                   
                                                                                                              The End?

PS What do you think of Jordo the Tech-Monkey as a name for the little headless guy?  ;)
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: fardawg on July 29, 2010, 10:12:00 PM
I'm surprised more people don't post on here. I really like the idea of various renditions of a single prompt.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Comatose on December 17, 2010, 02:19:40 PM
Brandon's Dialogue Challenge
(Not sure if this is the correct place, but it seemed to fit the best, and I didn't want to make another topic)

According to Plan
Matthew Wiens
(1483 words)

“A gentleman knocks before entering his sister‘s room.  Especially at these hours.  He also uses the door.”

“I don’t believe it.  You planned this from the beginning, didn’t you.  Mikhail, my date, the wine.  You planned it from the start.”

“Aaron, it’s late, get some rest.  We can talk about this in the morning.  We have a big day ahead of us.  You especially, being the new heir…”

“I didn’t want this!  I never asked for this.  What made you think you could do this?  These are people’s lives we are talking about, Daerra.  This isn’t one of your little games.  Two people are dead!  And it’s because of you.”

“Aaron, I can tell you are upset, but don’t you think we should leave this until morning.  You can rest, think things through.  Then we’ll talk about it, I promise.”

“Damn it Daerra!  We’re talking about this now.  What were you thinking?  How could you… how could you do this?  Stop brushing your hair and listen to me when I’m talking to you!”

“Fine, I’m listening.  What is it you want to say?”

“I want… why?  Why would you do this?”

“Why would I do what?  You’ll have to be more specific.”

“This isn’t a game Daerra… this is serious.”

“And I’m being serious.  What exactly are you so angry about?”

“What do you think I’m angry about?  My cousin is dead, stabbed in the chest by the woman I was dancing with tonight, and you are the bloody cause of it all!”

“You forgot to mention I made you heir.”

“Enough!  You can’t just play with people like this.  Two people are dead because of you.  Does that not make you feel guilty?”

“Not really, no.  What?  In case you’ve forgotten, this has been the plan from the beginning.  You know I never intended Mikhail to inherit.”

“And when were you planning on filling me in on these plans?”

“You’ve known from the start, silly.  Now, I just have to work on father and uncle.  Claudia will be important as well, but I should have her wrapped around my finger soon enough.  I think we should start by…”

“Stop it.  We’re not done with this.  You can’t just walk away from this Daerra.  You killed two people.”

“Did I?  I see no blood on my hands.  Last I checked, your little lady friend…”

“She’s nothing to me.  I told you that as soon as I found out…”

“I know, I was teasing, but last I checked, she’s the one who plunged that dagger into our dear cousin, Mikhail’s chest.  She’s the one who got herself beheaded for her crime.”

“But you made it happen.  You set her up.   I don’t know what you told her to make her do your dirty work for you, but…”

“But what?  You’re free Aaron.  That horrid woman will never bother you again, and she took Mikhail down with her.  She was unstable anyways, she probably would have gotten herself executed before the year was out anyways.  If anyone deserved death, it’s her.”

“And Mikhail, did he deserve to die?”

“Mikhail was an obstacle.  I had him removed.”

“You say it like it’s simple.  Like he’s just a chair or table.  He’s your cousin, Daerra!  Or had you forgotten that?”

“Do you really think he wouldn’t have done the same to me, had our positions been reversed?”

“Mikhail was always loyal to his family…”

“Loyal, yes, but not ambitious?  Hardly.  Had our father not gotten himself stricken from the succession, it would have been him plotting against you.”

“And what would you have been doing?”

“Keeping your pretty little head on your shoulders, dear brother.  What are big sisters for?”

“Last I checked, we’re twins, and I’m at least three inches taller.”

“Very funny.  Now, can we get some rest?  The factions are going to be in an uproar over this, and I’ll need to be fully recovered to deal with things.  I just know father is going to try to have me shipped off again.  He thinks I have too much influence over you already.  Now that you are first in line… well, things certainly won’t be boring.”

“And if I don’t want to be the heir?  Did you ever think, for a moment when you were concocting this brilliant plan of yours that I wouldn’t want what you offered?”

“Of course.  When uncle passes away, you’ll inherit, and when the moment is right, you can abdicate in favour of me.  A faction or two might try something, but I’m sure I can handle them.”

“I still can’t believe it.”

“What?”

“You.  You’re acting like all you’ve done is reorganize some furniture or something.”

“Sometimes furniture has to be reorganized for a room to work properly.”

“That not my point, and you know it.  It’s like I’m seeing you for the first time.  You know, I always thought you were joking.  I mean, I thought all that succession stuff was just some game, like the kind we used to play as kids.  I knew you were competent, Daerra, but I never thought you were capable of this.”

“You thought my life’s work was some sort of joke?  That I wasn’t serious?  Maybe you are seeing me for the first time.”

“You’ve changed everything, you know.  Forever.”

“I know.  I fail to see why that’s a bad thing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?  That I wasn’t joking about my life-long dream?  I guess that just never occurred to me.”

“No, not that.  About the plan.  About tonight.  You played me Daerra.  You played me, just like you played everyone else.  You used me.”

“Aaron, it’s not like that.  I…”

“You used me Daerra.  I thought we were supposed to be a team.”

“We are.  I just thought… I just thought you wouldn’t understand.  That you’d panic.”

“Of course.  Because I’m such an airhead.  Good if something needs to be stolen, but if there’s plotting to be done, I’m just some sort of liability.”

“Aaron, you know I don’t think that.  I… I made a mistake.  I’m sorry…”

“Don’t play me.  You think I can’t see through you?  I’m not some pawn in one of your games, Daerra.  I’m your brother.  I know you better than anyone.  You know you can trust me, so stop keeping me at arm’s reach.”

“This isn’t easy for me, you know.”

“I didn’t think it would be.”

“Aaron… I… I shouldn’t have kept this from you.  I should have trusted you.  I know that.  It’s just, things happened so fast, and I didn’t know what to do.  I had a plan.   After all these years of plotting, I had a plan.  I just wanted it to succeed so badly that I… that I kept it from the one person who could have made sure it went through without a hitch.  I really am sorry Aaron.  I promise I’ll never keep anything like this from you again.  Okay?”

“You know, it’s the strangest thing.  I can’t even tell if you’re being sincere anymore.  I used to see the way you smiled at people.  The way you made your eyes sparkle at someone you couldn’t stand, or the way you could blush or cry on command.  And I would think to myself, man, she’s got them played.  They’ll never see it coming until it’s too late.  But I always knew that at least I knew the real you.  The one that felt insecure sometimes, the one who had my back, and the one that kept me in check.  I knew my sister.  And now, now I’m not sure where she is.  If she’s gone, or lost, or whatever.  Now, all I see is what everyone else sees.”

“Aaron…”

“You still don’t get it, do you?  Two people are dead because of you, Daerra.  They’re gone.  Forever.  Our lives will never be the same.  And you don’t feel anything.”

“I…”

“Save it.  Save it for someone who’s still fooled by you.  You know, our father always said there was something wrong with you.  I always thought he was wrong.  Now… now I’m not so sure.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that we’re done here.  If you see me in the morning… how about you just leave me alone.  You have your factions to deal with.  Let them keep you busy.  I’m done with all of this.  I’m going to bed.”

“Aaron I… Fine.  Be a stubborn prick if you want to.  I said I’m sorry.  What do you want me to do?  Bow before you, and kiss your feet?  If tonight has proven anything, it’s that I don’t need you.  I don’t need anyone.  So go ahead and abandon me for all I care.”

“You know what the funny thing is?  If you would have asked just then, even after everything you’ve done, I think I would have forgiven you.”

“Aaron…”

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Nerdles on December 17, 2010, 06:02:16 PM
Funny, mine has a similar start to the dialogue. I will post it after I decide whether to make it just a snippet or a full scene. I look forward to reading other variations on the theme.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Nerdles on December 17, 2010, 06:12:59 PM
Okay, I decided to let my snippet stand on its' own. It's something like half a scene, but that's all I have time for this week. Inspired by a famous scene from Casablanca, as you'll see ...

~~~

"I was wondering when you'd show up, Marta. I left the door open so you wouldn't break the lock like last time."

"Get rid of that joint. You know the smoke makes me sick."

"That's why I lit up."

"Put it out, Sam."

"You put away the gun and I'll snuff the joint."

"No deal."

"What do you want, Marta? You want the documents? They're sitting there on the piano and they're all yours."

"Go open the window to clear the air in here. Then bring those documents and hand them to me on the way back. Do it now, Sam, or I'll shoot."

"The funny thing, Marta, is that I don't believe you care about those documents. That's not what you came for. You came here because you wanted to see me. Well, I've got news for you, sweetie. There ain't nothing to see but a cynical old man. The man you once loved is still sitting in a bakery in Calcutta, waiting for his girl to show up. She never came that day so he stayed right back there waiting. I'm just an empty placeholder for the soul this body used to own. You ought to know that by now."

"Open the window. Get the documents. Hand them to me."

"Go ahead and shoot. You'll be doing the world a favor."

"I don't want to hurt you, Sam. You know I need those documents to clear my name."

"Your name? What about that boyfriend of yours? He's the one who's been implicated, not you. But hey, it's nothing to me. You want the documents? Go ahead and walk over there and grab them. I'd do it myself but I don't like to turn my back on women holding guns."

"Sam, you know I wouldn't--"

"Then why'd you bring it, sweetie? And why won't you put it down? You afraid of me? I've already said the documents are yours and I've shown you where they are. You scared of something else? Somebody else? Maybe you're scared of yourself."

"I don't ... Stop it, Sam. Just hand them to me."

"You put down the gun, I put out the joint and walk across the room. We open the window to get some fresh air, you get your documents. Isn't that what you want?"

"Fine, Sam. You win. You know you always do. Here's the gun."

"Just kick it out of reach, now, okay? Very nice, Marta. Now I snuff like so. Why don't you take a seat while I open the window?"

"I'm not here to socialize, Sam."

"Is that so? Okay, then. Back to business. Joint snuffed. Window open. Here are the documents. Take them, Marta, you've earned them."

...
(by Juliana Montgomery)
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: MarioZ on December 17, 2010, 09:29:50 PM
A good exercise, thanks Brandon! Here is my piece (could be part of a scene from a novel). English isn't my first language, but I wanted to try it anyway :)


THE DRIFTERS
by Mario Zakall
(436 words)

“I just can’t believe they kicked you out of the door…”

“I. I can not…”

“For no good reason…”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I…”

“Come on, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re good. They’re just out of their goddamn minds.”

“And now…”

“Now what can you do?”

“What can I do? I, I mean… how do I look after Carrie now? Oh Christ…”

“That’s what I mean. You can’t support her and you can’t support yourself for much longer.”

“I can’t…”

“No.”

“And… and I can not find a new job so fast. Oh Christ, help me…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll buy you another drink…”

“No, thank you. I… I’ve had enough for now.”

“Alright, maybe later. You know what?”

“What?”

“Someone should pay them back.”

“Pay them back?”

“Yeah. Someone should really hurt ‘em.”

“But… I mean… how?”

“We should rob the office.”

“W- What?”

“That’s what I mean. We should rob the damn office, steal the super secret documents they’ve got there and sell them to the competition. That would be justice, you know what I mean?”

“Yes. But…”

“What?”

“It’s… it is a crime.”

“That’s right, it’s a crime. You’re right, Will. It also brings us some green. A lot of green.”

“You mean it would be lucrative?”

“Oh yeah. It can be.”

“Do you really want to do this?”

“I was thinkin’ about it, yeah. You know. As an idea…”

“As an idea…”

“Yeah.”

“What could you get for them? I mean, what could you get for the documents?”

“For the documents? Sixty thousand bucks, maybe more.”

“Sixty…”

“Sixty thousand. That’s right. We’ll sell them to a guy named Mitchell. He’s got a business on Korvan I.”

“You are really going to do this…”

“That’s right.”

“But… I mean…”

“Watch this…”

“Oh my God… How did you do that?”

“I just moved back and forth. You just couldn’t see me do it, ‘cause…”

“You are a Drifter, Seth? You… are a Drifter?”

“Afraid so.”

“So… that is how you are going to rob the place?”

“Pretty much, yeah.  No one sees me comin’. I’ll just go straight through the walls, right to the…”

“Why do you want to risk a robbery?”

“It’s not my first. Plus, it’s very safe.”

“Not, not your first…”

“But first of all, I’ll do it for you and Carrie. You’re my cousin, Will. I can’t just sit there and watch you go down like this.”

“But… why do you tell me about this beforehand?”

“Cause we still need a pilot…”

“You need… I… Now I think I need a drink.”

“There you go!”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Technomancer on December 17, 2010, 10:12:52 PM
Prompt: Write a five- to ten-page two-character dialogue with no tags or blocking. Try to evoke character, conflict, and plot using only dialogue. Include: a problem, two distinct individuals, a fantasy/sf element. Avoid: long monologues, exposition. Use context, not explanations.
So, anyway, five to ten pages is just a suggestion—about a thousand words or so— but you don't have to make yours any particular length. It can be a short short, standing on its own, or it can be a short story. Or it can be the start of a novel, or just an excerpt of dialogue from an ordinary story. Basically, this doesn't need to be a complete story. The goal is to see how much you can get across without exposition and with a fast-moving dialogue.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”
“Out for a walk.”
“It’s the middle of the night Katsue, and we’re going to war tomorrow, you need your rest.”
“That’s just it, Tameyoshi, I’m not sure I want to go to war, this whole thing-”
“You’re nervous aren’t you?”
“I was thinking about just running.”
“You want to desert us do you?  It’s understandable considering what we’re going up against but I don’t think I can do this without my best friend, if you go, I go and the blood of nations’ is on our hands.”
“I know, it’s just, what if we fail?”
“We won’t fail, we can’t fail.”
“We’re up against Shotgun. We’ll be lucky to survive, let alone kill her.”
“Katsue, look at me.  We. Will. Not. Fail.  And on the off chance we do, well we’re the last defense, we’ll be in the history books one way or the other now won’t we?”
“That was in horrible taste Tameyoshi.  You‘ll have to do better than that to keep me around.”
“Maybe so, but sometimes bad jokes are the only thing standing between hope no matter how false and true despair.  So I’ll be keeping the joke book close.”
“I suppose you’re right, but do you really think we can win?”
“Honestly, I don’t know but does that mean we shouldn’t try?”
“Of course not!  This is our home we’re fighting for, we can’t just abandon it!”
“Heh. Now there’s the Katsue I like to see.  There’s that fire, you’re going to be a great leader when this is all over princess.”
“Tameyoshi, you know how much I hate being called by that title, it hasn’t had any meaning in eleven years.”
“Yeah, I know not since Shotgun took over, I was there, remember.  On the marrow though, when the battle is over you’ll take your rightful place as you should’ve many years ago and you’ll get a nice pink dragon skin purse out of the deal.”
“The battle is one thing but, I don’t know anything about running a country, I never got the proper training and I practically have to rebuild Nesh from the ground up, I’m not sure if I can do it.”
‘Katsue, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there and we’ll make do somehow.  Besides, like we always say, your back is my back, that’s for more than just battle you know.”
“Tameyoshi, why do you have so much faith in me?”
“Katsue, Katsue, Katsue, that’s like asking how I know the Sun will rise in the morning, my reasons are hard to miss and impossible to refute.  We’ve known each other most our lives and I can honestly say, you are the single most amazing person I know and the main reason I made it through these last eleven years.  That’s why.  I’ve seen who you are and what you can do.”
“I’m not that amazing, just a silly little girl.”
“True you are silly but that’s part of what’s so great about you.  Just about everything you do makes me smile, not many can even get me to smirk.  If anything, I wonder why you‘re hanging around me.”
“You’re my friend, that’s why.”
“Princesses are allowed to have friends now?  Have you breaking the rules again Katsue?”
“Only because you taught me how.”
“Fair enough.”
“…It’s going to be odd going home after so long..”
“Yeah it will be, we’ve been gone for months, I wonder if Yakov’s kicked the bucket yet.”
“Tameyoshi!”
“Okay yeah, even I’ll admit that was in horrible taste, sorry, you know me I say stupid things, you’re the smart one around here.”
“Apparently I am, you‘re just lucky Echola didn’t hear you say that.”
“Oh come on, she thinks her brother is a lazy bum too.”
‘Sometimes, but she still loves him, and she’d slice your head off  with one of those fans if she’d heard you say that.”
“You wouldn’t let her do that to me… would you Katsue?”
“I don’t know…”
“Oh come on! I was joking you know that; I didn’t mean it!”
“I know.”
“Girls...”
“Like to mess with boys’ heads.
“Amen to that.”
“You like it and you know it.”
“You’re just lucky we are friends.”
“That wasn’t very nice.”
“Neither is your teasing.”
“But that’s just it, I was teasing, joking.”
“I know.”
“…Do you think our parent’s would be proud of us?
“I don’t know, I barely remember mine, it’s so hazy.  I hate it, I know their names and  I know they were great warriors but the actual people themselves…”
“I remember a little bit, my father mostly, he was mischievous, if he were alive right now he’d probably decorate my room with pictures of boys I hung around while I slept.”
“Sounds like my kind of guy.”
“I’m sure he does, you’re a lot like him.
“Is that compliment or an insult?”
“I’m not sure, whichever you take it as I suppose.”
“Then I say complement , because I don’t want to think my best friend just insulted me.”
“So, I’m your best friend?”
“Of course you are Katsue, of all my friends you’ve always been the one who’s had my back.  When the guys were jerks and I thought I was alone, I’d think to myself, there’s still Katsue.  You have no idea how many times that’s saved me from myself.  I just wish I could repay you in some way, I feel like I owe you so much.  I know, that’s stupid.”
“No, it’s not, it actually explains a lot.  You don’t owe me anything Tameyoshi, you know that; I just did what any real friend would do.”
“I know, but that doesn’t change how I feel.  That’s why I’ll do anything I can to protect you.  If I could fight Shotgun without your help, I would.”
“I can take care of myself Tameyoshi.”
“I know, and you love to remind me of it, but just because you can that doesn’t mean you should have to.”
“Wouldn’t that apply to you too?”
“You got me there Katsue, it’s probably some outdated chivalry notion I picked up from my father, the man has to protect the girl.”
“You intend to lock me up in a tower and never let me go anywhere?”
“Did I say that? No, I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Well that’s what they did back in those old chivalry days, locked the women up in towers like possessions.  I for one am glad we’re past such times.
“So  am I, I just… I’m an idiot, I said the wrong thing, I do it all the time, you know what I meant.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Do you know why I decided to get to know you all those years ago?”
“No, how could I?”
“Sorry, rhetorical question.  Do you want to know?
“You obviously want me to know, you brought it up so just tell me.”
“Well, shortly before were enslaved I saw you from afar.  I barely knew who you were back then, even if you were my princess.  I saw you running.  You were wearing a pink dress.  I was too afraid to go up to you so I just watched.  I watched you run around and for the first time in months there was a smile on my face.  It was right then that I promised myself I’d get to know the pretty girl who liked to run.”
“Pretty?”
“Yeah I thought you were pretty when we were younger.”
“You said thought, past tense, does that mean you don’t think I’m pretty now Tameyoshi?”
“I’m not going to answer that.”
“And why not?
“It’s a loaded question, no matter how I answer, it’s going to sound bad.”
“Bad how?”
“Well, if I say no, you’ll be insulted and if say yes, well… you know.”
“I see.”
“I slipped, I said something I shouldn’t have, forget I said anything Katsue.”
“Why, are you embarrassed that you had a crush on me when we were kids?”
“No that’s not it at all.  I mean, you’re beautiful, smart, and funny.   Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
“Then what is it?
“I…”
“You what, spit it out Tameyoshi!”
“I don’t think I deserve you okay?!”
“What?”
“I’m madly in love with you Katsue, but I don’t deserve you.  You’re a princess and I’m no prince.  I’m just the son of a couple knights, the only people lower than me are the serfs.  You’re the elite and you deserve the best, you’re that amazing.”
“…You’re madly in love with me?”
“Yes, and you don’t know how hard it was for me to say all of that, it felt like giving up but I have to let go, so that if I die tomorrow, I can do so without any regrets.”
“You really think you’re not good enough for me?”
“Yeah I do, but that doesn’t change how much I love you or the fact that I’d do anything to protect you.  I suppose I’ve just been trying to prolong the inevitable rejection.”
“Tameyoshi, you’re my best friend so I’m going to say this as gently as possible.  You’re being rather stupid right now.”
“How so?
“You’re saying your not good enough for me based on a class system that hasn’t been used in over a decade.  If you haven’t noticed we’re both escaped slaves.  Our class is equal and if we win tomorrow and by the grace of the Immortal Spirits, I pray we do, I’ll be the monarch.  The one who makes the rules.  So your whole argument doesn’t make much sense.”
“Thanks for trying to make me feel better Katsue but you don’t have to let me down gently.  You can just go ahead and tell me you’re not interested; I’m a big boy, I can take it.”
“Sometimes you can be really stupid Tameyoshi.  I guess I‘ll have to spell it out for you.”
“…You just kissed me.”
“Yes I did.”
“Does that mean what I think it means?
“That depends, what do you think it means?”
“I think it means that you have feelings for me too.  But that would mean-”
“We’re dating, yes.”
“If this is a dream, I’d better not wake up.”
“You’re not dreaming.”
“Well then I died and went to the Realm of the Gods.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“A goddess just kissed me, I don’t think there’s any other explanation.”
“Goddess, you really no how to charm a girl.”
“I would’ve said angel but it just didn’t do you justice.”
“Okay that deserves another kiss.”
“Remind me to compliment you more.”
“Knowing  you, I won’t have to.  Just promise me you won’t die fighting Shotgun.”
“Well you’ve certainly given me a reason to live and I’d just hate to disappoint my girlfriend.  Girlfriend, By the Spirits, I love saying that.”
“Shh.  What would Echola say if she heard you invoking the Immortal Sprits in such a manner?  You know how zealous she is about religion.
“I think she’d make an exception in this case Katsue.”
“And why is that?”
“She’s been waiting for us to get together for years, I confided my feelings in her long ago.  She’ll probably want to throw a party when she finds out.”
“I see.  That should be interesting considering how stiff she is, I mean, she’s my best friend but she’s a little too much by the book at times.”
“Yeah she is.”
“So when should we tell her?”
“In the morning before we leave, it’s getting pretty late I should probably head back to my tent.”
“Without giving me a good night kiss?”
“I’ll fight dragons but can’t say no to my girlfriend, what will the history books say about me now?”
“They’ll say as great a warrior as you were, you were an even better boyfriend.”
“Shotgun had better watch out now, I feel invincible!
“Tomorrow, we take back our home and then we can have a normal relationship.”
“What’s normal for a couple of teenage wizards who can easily vaporize a city?  Especially when one is a princess?”
“Touché “
“ I love you Katsue.”
“I love you too Tameyoshi.”
“I’m glad I cold help with your doubts.”
“And I yours.
“Good night Katsue.”
“Good Night.”
“Wait, I don’t have to worry about you running off do I?” This wasn’t some sort of trick to get me to leave you alone was it?”
“Do you really think I’d do that?”
“Stress makes people to strange things.”
“I’m going to my tent, where I will stay for the night.  I suggest you do the same or we’ll have to breakup on the same night we got together.”
“Alright, alright, I believe you, I’m going.  By the Spirits I’m weak, I just melt in front of that pretty face.”
“See you in the morning.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: madelste on December 17, 2010, 10:38:33 PM
Prompt: Write a five- to ten-page two-character dialogue with no tags or blocking. Try to evoke character, conflict, and plot using only dialogue. Include: a problem, two distinct individuals, a fantasy/sf element. Avoid: long monologues, exposition. Use context, not explanations.

Title:  Two heads are better than one

“That Lavian seemed interested, she had her twelve arms all over you.”

“I don’t like talking to strange creatures in a bar and she was way too touchy-feely.  One, two, three -- Lift!”

“Please.  I saw you staring at her and you did nothing but drink.  We are off work for one night and you just waste it.  You want it here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.  No!  Don’t try to sit in it, just leave it there.  Lavian consume their lovers during sex, do you really think that would have made for a pleasant evening?  Pass the cutter, please.”

“Here -- but seriously, did you get a good look at her.  If I was interested in letting go, that would be my first choice.”

“You sound like a cliff walker -- letting go -- think about slow digestion.  I need that green wire now.  Thanks.”

“I heard that she secretes a kind of venom that causes amazing hallucinations.  Shouldn't you be connecting the red one to that black one?”

“No, red, green blue and then black -- think about it.  If you are having hallucinations, then you might as well be with a rock.  You wouldn't know it.  Do you have that red book handy?”

“Nah, I left it with Molly at the compound.  Here is the other cutter.  You know, you might want to seriously consider giving that girl a little more attention or someone might take her for himself.”

“Please.  She follows me around like a Karian Mutant, its disgusting.  Did you forget the control device?”

“It’s in the side pocket of the pack.  I don’t think she is disgusting.  Her blond head is rather attractive.”

“What about the grey slime that constantly drools from her green head?  Can you imagine waking up to that every day?  I don’t see it.  Are you sure it is in the pack?  I need it to complete the circuit.”

“Pass it over to me, I’ll get it.  Heads can be replaced.  Give her a nice brown one on her feastday.  She’ll love it.  Wait, I found it.”

“Finally.  Giving her another head isn’t the problem.  How would I ever convince her to give up the green one?  She’d just run along with three heads and I’d get three times the misery.”

“You aren’t thinking like Molly, mate.  She has all those clothes with six holes.  She’d need seven holes for another head.  I think you have that backwards.”

“I just need to turn it to the side and push.  I think you are backwards -- you are giving her a prime excuse to take my credits and get a whole new wardrobe.  I’m not made of platinum you know, ignoring the third arm, that is.”

“Well, I still say that if you don’t do something soon, she is going to leave you.  Something is still off -- don’t you think?”

“I’d know if I had the red book, but someone left it at the compound.”

“You know Molly always tells you not to use your platinum arm like that, it could become severely damaged.”

“Do you want to get this finished or not?  If you weren’t mooning over Molly, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“I was not mooning over Molly, I just thought that if you were not interested that I might ask her out.  Tarian has a twin filet meal that I know she has been dying to try.  Is it going to work now?”

“Maybe -- give it a charge.  If you want to ask her out, you don’t need my approval.”

“You will be going with me, I need you to be ok with this.  There -- all charged.  Shall we try it out.”

“Lets just sit in the chair.”

“It seems to be working fine -- a perfect cut.  What do you think?”

“I agree, the two heads are better than one hair salon is back in business.  We can get people through here twice as fast now for half the time and twice price.”

“Isn’t that a little steep?” 

“If we are going to Tarian with Molly, we need the cash.  We are cutting two heads of hair in half the time.  It’s a fair price.”

 “Thank you so much -- I can’t wait to ask her.  Where would I do without you?”

 “You’d have one less head and, for the record, the blond head is all mine.”


Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: royallocks on December 17, 2010, 11:28:37 PM
Wow! There have been some really good ones so far!

Here is mine.

Prompt: Write a five- to ten-page two-character dialogue with no tags or blocking. Try to evoke character, conflict, and plot using only dialogue. Include: a problem, two distinct individuals, a fantasy/sf element. Avoid: long monologues, exposition. Use context, not explanations.

“Blood and flaming guts! Ow.”

“Arrow, dear, something tells me that the molecular make up of those iron bars has not changed since the last time you kicked them, and that swearing at and abusing the metal will not get us out of this cell any faster.”

“Bloody traitor. The next time I see him he's going to wish he had never been born.”

“Arrow, stop swearing. I know why you're doing it.”

“Who do you think you are, Flynn? My gutting father? I always swear when I've been betrayed, thrown in the pit of a reeking dungeon, and punched in the face several times.”

“You do not. Though, come to think of it, this has been a fairly eventful morning. You're swearing because of Tak's comment that girls can't swear properly.”

“I am not.”

“You are, too.”

“Why would I do something so flaming silly?”

“Because you are flaming silly. No, don't sulk. You know that you don't have to take everything everyone says as a challenge, right?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No.”

“Then I don't know what you're talking about. Stop crying about my language, and get us out of here.”

“Well, you got us into this mess, so wouldn't it be logical for you to get us out of it?”

“Don't be silly, Flynn. If you didn't help us get into trouble, and you won't help us get out of trouble, then you're pretty bloody useless.”

“So, am I to understand that if I am responsible to the next batch of trouble we get into, you'll handle the getting out portion? Because, it seems to me that getting into trouble is the easy part.”

“But I'm better at it than you. Really Flynn, we've got to stick to our strengths.”

“And what, dear Arrow, are my strengths?”

“Well, darling Flynn, you've got so many of them. I never met anyone who could waste time on useless things like you can. You're good at fixing things, like us being in prison, so I'd consider that a strength. And I keep you around for your charming good looks, of course.”

“My angel, Arrow, how flattering you are. It would be outstandingly rude of me not to return the compliment. I know with absolute certainty my life would be peaceful, relaxing, and completely under my control if it didn't have you in it. Thank you, for upsetting everything at least once a week, and usually more often. Without you I would be in a state of euphoric joy all the time and, as a result, unable to appreciate fully the days when I don't see you at all. Thank you.”

“It's rude to use words I don't understand.”

“And it's ill-mannered to swear every other word.”

“If I promise to stop swearing, will you tell me what euphoric means?”

“Yes.”

“I'm not going to flaming promise.”

“Why is this not a surprise to me? You're far too pertinacious for such a reasonable deal.”



“Well, are you finished sulking, Arrow?”

“Are you finished being a snob?”

“No.”

“Oh. What are you working on?”

“Our escape plan, of course.”

“I hope it's a good one.”

“You mean you hope you get to use the knives that you have somehow hidden from the guards who searched you?”

“Obviously.”

“Actually, the plan I've been working on involves this.”

“What is that?”

“It's a magic ring.”

“It looks like a piece of wood with a hole in the middle that might possibly be the size of a finger. How is that a magic ring?”

“They don't know it's not magic.”

“'Cause they haven't seen it.”

“Well since you're so smart, let's see you come up with something!”

“Fine, I will. Remember this ring? The object we were actually trying to steal when we ended up here? This is a magic ring.”

“You got it? How?”

“Oh, please, Flynn. The time you spend reading your history books is time that I spend practicing useful skills. Like hiding things. This time, for an object this small, my hair was a very good  place. No one ever looks there. Or at least, not unless they're sure you have something. And even you didn't know I had time to grab it before we were caught.”

“Arrow, don't make that face. It makes me feel sick.”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you're around.”

“Ouch. Well, back to what you were saying. About this magic ring of yours. What exactly does it do?”

“That's why I didn't bring it up before. I don't bloody know.”

“Wait a moment, so I can get this straight. You talked me into helping you with this mission all to steal a magic ring that
you have absolutely no idea how to use?”

“Yes?”

“You know what, you're right. I could never even come close to getting into as much trouble as you do. I'm not even going to try.”

“According to Kvel, who's information we know is rather suspect-”

“Considering he told his Lady that we were coming? Yes, Arrow, I would be suspicious of anything he told you.”

“Point taken. But he said that the ring was a very valuable new piece of technology. Apparently the Ethians were the first ones to start developing it.”

“This is making me feel so much better. We all know what kindly folk the Ethians are, don't we, Arrow? They wouldn't possibly invent a ring that was, I don't know, a torture device? Certainly not.”

“Honestly, Flynn. Sometimes you are unbearable. I never intended to put it on. The goal was to steal it and sell it. No harm in that, now, is there?

“So how is this useless ring going to help us escape? The only thing coming to my mind is that I bargain with the Purifiers to let me go if I tell them where you're hiding the ring.”

“That wouldn't be very nice.”

“Not really. No.”

“I can only think of one thing to do.”

“Arrow, the last time you held my hand like that I ended up unconscious. What are you doing?”

“Putting on the ring.”

“No! Don't-”

“See, I told you we'd be fine.”

“If by fine you mean, alive, out of the prison, and not writhing in agony.”

“What more do you want?”

“I'd like to know why we are standing in the middle of a forest with no clothes on. But really, I shouldn't be so picky.”

~Madison
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: AndreaGS on December 18, 2010, 05:42:23 AM
Hey all!  Wandered over here through facebook and then Brandon Sanderson's blog.  I saw the dialogue exercise and thought I might give it a go.  I'm having fun reading through the other submissions!

Prompt: Write a five- to ten-page two-character dialogue with no tags or blocking. Try to evoke character, conflict, and plot using only dialogue. Include: a problem, two distinct individuals, a fantasy/sf element. Avoid: long monologues, exposition. Use context, not explanations.

Title: Parting of the Ways

   “You came after me.”

   “You're hurt, let me help you.”

   “Don't touch me!  I know what you are.  I'm an idiot, never putting two and two together.  All those years and you getting more and more private.  I suspected that you weren't who you said you were, but by then so much time had passed.  Ama, of all the things...Amarris.  Lost daughter of Shion and Calliwen.  It was in front of me the entire time.”

   “I'm getting you out of here.”

   “Like hell you are.  You think I want your help?  I'd rather be dead.”

   “You don't mean that.  You'll feel better once you're healed up and rested.  I need to get you back.”

   “Back to what?  More running, more hiding?  My brother is dead.  Lan Nodric is dead.  Your country has won.  There is no one left to resist you.”

   “Don't call it my country.  Isego is my country now.”

   “By Inea's tits, you actually believe that, don't you?”

   “I grew up here.  You took me in. You raised me.  Mezare is a dream I had a long time ago.”

   “I raised a serpent.  Look at you.  You'll never be Isegan.  Your skin, your hair, your eyes.  And your fire.”

   “My fire just saved your life.”

   “I won’t thank it, if that’s what you’re prodding after.  I don’t know you.  I don’t know who you are.  Ama, Amarris – which one are you truly?  The boy I taught to steal horses, or the girl who can use a drop of blood to send her enemies up in flames?  What did you think would happen?  You’d rescue me, and we’d go back to the way things were?”

   “I hoped…I don’t know how to be any other way.”

   “Liar.  You know how to be lestari.”

   “I was only a child when my father anointed me.  How can you blame me for that?  I didn’t know what was happening.  I didn’t know what it meant.”

   “Did I say I blamed you?  I don’t.  We don’t blame the wolf for being a wolf, even when it kills our sheep.  But you are Mezaran, Amarris, and lestari.  It’s in your blood.  You can’t change that, even if you were to tear away every bit of flesh from bone.”

   “Stop it.  Please, I just want to take you home.”

   “I said don’t touch me!  Try that again and I’ll put this put this bolt right through your heart.  I can move my arms just fine, and I’m a better shot than Golon.”

   “Vangar, don’t.  I can’t leave you here.  There’s no one around for miles.  If the Mezarans come back they’ll kill you.”

   “If they come back, I’ll cut my own throat, and let my blood spill onto the ground.  They won’t take me the way they did Lan Nodric and Golon.  They won’t bleed me out and use me for their fire.  You won’t use me.”

   “You think that’s what I want?  Yes I used some of your blood, and I’m sorry.  I had to.  I came here to fight lestari, not join them.”

   “Join them?  Have you been listening to me?  You are them. You just killed four lestari on your own, without training.  What does that make you if not lestari?  It’s not your place to ride around Isego, steal horses, and pretend to be a boy.  You’re a farce, a mockingbird.”

   “Then what would you have me do?  Would you rather I acted like them?”

   “Tell me this.  If you profess so ardently to be Isegan, why did you use fire when you came after me?”

   “It was the only way I could get you free.”

   “You didn’t even try another way.  It was easy for you to use fire.  It was there, and you used it.  You’ll run into other situations where, in your mind, using your lestari powers will be the only way.  And just as you did now, you won’t hesitate.  You’ll use them.  You’ve done it before.”

   “Yes, I’ve used fire before.  I’ve used it to keep you from getting hurt, and to keep Golon from getting hurt.  I will always do anything I can to keep the people I care about safe.”

   “An Isegan would never use fire.  Even if we had the ability bred into our blood, even if you anointed us at the top of one of your pyramids, even if your god, Lestoor, came before us in person and told us he accepted us as his own.  Not to save our families, not to save our own lives.  We have been ground beneath the heel of Mezare’s boot for too long.  What you do is an abomination.  It’s disgusting.  You treat us like cattle – blood to feed your lust for fire.”

   “Stop pretending I’m like them!  I didn’t kill Lan Nodric, and I didn’t kill Golon.  I’ve proved my loyalty to you a thousand times over.  I had chance after chance to turn you over to Mezare.  I could have done it while still pretending to be a boy, and lined my pockets while I was at it.  Instead I have turned my back on them.  Doesn’t that mean anything to you?  You told me once that I was like a son to you.”

   “Aye, once.  There was a time I thought you a boy, as well.  Doesn’t make it any more true.”

   “You’re an infuriating old man!  What do I have to do to prove that I’m more Isegan than I am Mezaran?  You talk in riddles and circles, all the while your wounds lie unbound.  Tell me what I have to do.  Tell me!”

   “Don’t use blood for fire.  Don’t use it ever again.  Can you do that?”

   “Fine.  I’ll never do it again.  Will you let me help you now?”

   “Oh, Ama.  Do you remember when you were young, and I had only just begun teaching you the tenets of a thief?  Such a stubborn and prideful child.  Still so.”

   “I remember. ‘A thief uses his wits more than he uses his hands.’”

   “You always had an uncanny memory.  If you remember that, then you’ll remember the third tenet: if you’re going to lie, be convincing about it.  Otherwise you’re better off not lying at all.”

   “You can’t even sit on a horse in your condition.  By the gods, Vangar, don’t make me watch you die.”

   “I won’t.  In a moment here I’m going to lift up this crossbow.  You’re going to back away, slowly, with your hands in the air, palms facing me.  And then you’re going to get up on your horse and leave me in peace.”

   “No.”

   “You will.  I don’t want you.  I don’t want you as a son, I don’t want you as a daughter, I don’t even want you as a friend.  I would rather die here, alone, in the place where my brother passed, than to think you might defile my corpse.”

   “I wouldn’t.  I promise.  Don’t do this.  Please.  I turned my back on Mezare, and now you’re turning your back on me?  Even if I’m not Isegan, I’m not Mezaran either.  I have nowhere to go.”

   “Spare me your tears, girl.  You have your two hands, your wits, and a horse.  It’s more than many of my countrymen have.  I won’t feel sorry for you.  If you care for me at all, as you say you do, you'll respect my wishes and leave me alone.”

   “Where am I supposed to go?”

   “Go to Darsia.  Go to the ends of the earth.  Just go.  I have nothing left to offer you.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: dhalagirl on December 18, 2010, 07:01:44 AM
Thanks for suggesting this exercise!  It was fun! This is part of a novel that I hadn't intended on working on for a while, but I knew that this exercise would work well for this particular story.  I've been spending most of my writing time on another novel.  Hope you like it! ::)


“Amara, are you there?”
“Kai?” 
“What a relief!  You wouldn’t believe how good it is to hear your voice again.”
“I wouldn’t believe it?  Kai, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to find you for three years!”
“Yeah . . . I’m sorry about that.”
“Sorry?  You completely dropped off the map!  I called in every favor I had with every ghost hacker on three continents!”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.  I was afraid a cyborg assassin got their hands on you.”
“As if they could catch me.”
“Ugh.  Would you please put your ego aside for two minutes and tell me where you’ve been?”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t put your ego aside or you can’t tell me where you’ve been?”
“Both.”
“That’s not funny, Kai.”
“I wasn’t trying to be, Amara.”
“So what are you trying to be?”
“Right now?  Human.”
“What?  You’re not making any sense.”
“I know, and I’m sorry about that too, but it can’t be helped right now.”
“Well, what would help me is for you stop being so mysterious and give me some freaking answers.  Oh, and for the love of all that’s holy, don’t answer in binary.  I hate it when you do that.”
“Ha ha ha-Ach-hmph . . . ha-hmph . . . ”
“Kai?  Are you all right?  That didn’t sound good.”
“It didn’t feel good.  I’m ok, just a coughing spell.  Apparently laughing is a bad idea.”
“Are you sick?”
“I’m not sick, but I’m not well either.”
“You’re doing that evasion thing again, Spider.”
“Please don’t get mad, and stop pacing.  You’ll make the floor dizzy.”
“How would you know?  Are you watching me?  Did you hack into the security feed?”
“First off, I know you.  Second, you always call me by my hack sign when you’re mad.  As for the rest, give me a sec . . . and yes, I’m watching you.  Nice skirt by the way.  Purple is definitely your color.”
“Argh!  If you don’t give me one good reason . . .”
“All right, all right.  Calm down.  The guy in the lab next door is starting to get suspicious.”
“You’re watching everyone in the building?”
“Yup.”
“Wait a minute, you’d have to divide the vid feed among at least six screens to see the entire facility.”
“Nine actually.”
“You have nine screens?”
“Actually I have forty-two, not that I can see all of them.”
“Forty-two?  What kind of monster system are you running?”
“It’s the beast of the apocalypse.”
“That’s a strange name for a system.”
“Sadly it’s more than just a name.”
“Am I going to get any straight answers out of you?”
“Sorry, I keep getting carried away.  There’s no one here for me to tease.  I need to make up for lost time.”
“Well, if you don’t get to the point soon, that’s what I’ll be doing tonight so I don’t fall behind on my work.”
“All right, all right.  Amara, I need your help.”
“With what?”
“What do you know about Nexus?”
“Not much, I’ve only heard a few whispers.  It’s some top-secret government project.  What about it?“
“I’m trapped in it.  I need you to help me get out.”
“Whoa there!  Are you saying you’ve been working on Nexus this entire time and you never told me?”
“I couldn’t!  Remember the part about it being top-secret?”
“Well, I have no idea what you expect me to do.  I don’t have those kinds of contacts.  What could I possibly do to help?”
“You can quit your job right now and come to Ohio.”
“Hell no!”
“Hell yes!”
“You’re crazy!”
“No one is going to argue with you on that, but I still need you to come to Ohio.”
“I can’t leave the team.  We’re so close to completing a fully functional prototype!  Amputees are already lining up to test our new biocybe prosthesis.”
“That’s one of the reasons why I need you to leave.  Your name can’t be attached to this project once it goes public.”
“Kai, we’re making prosthetics not a nuclear weapon.  Having my name attached to this project will help my career, not destroy it.”
“It’s not your career I’m worried about.  I can’t go into details, but lets just say that if you want to live to see Christmas, you’ll leave now while you still can.”
“Kai, you can’t just rematerialize and expect me to drop everything because of some crazy conspiracy theory rumor!  Besides, I’ve done most of the work on this project.  There’s no way I’m letting everyone else take the credit.”
“Amara, please.  I’m begging you to trust me.  Believe me, I want to tell you everything, but I can’t.  They watch me too closely.  I’m taking a huge risk just contacting you.”
“How deep are you in?”
“I’m at the bottom of the rabbit hole.”
“Kai, I don’t know if I can do this.  You’re asking me to give up everything.”
“I know.  But there is no one else I can trust.  I need you.”
“How soon do I need to be out of here?”
“Your flight leaves in four hours.”
“I’m probably going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Yes.  I can’t even promise that the sacrifice will be worth it, but it has to be done.”
“I was afraid you would say that.  Well, I guess I’ll see you in Ohio.“
 “Actually, you won’t.”
“If you’re not in Ohio, then why am I going there?”
“That’s where the first piece of the puzzle is.  I meant it when I said I couldn’t trust anyone else.  The information I’ve collected had to be smuggled out in small pieces and scattered across the globe.  It was the only way.” 
“Let me guess, you need me to go and collect the pieces?”
“Yes.”
“Can you at least give me a clue as to what this info is for?”
“It’s the stone to bring down the giant.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
 “Then we’ll be too dead to care.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: randomaximus on December 18, 2010, 10:23:12 AM
Prompt:  The Dialogue exercise.  (and my first attempt EVER at creative writing.  I was a math major.  Thanks BS, see what you do to people?  :))

Title:  "Mixed Martial Arts!!??"
Author:  Randall Henderson

“So…you made up your mind then, finally?”

“Mixed martial arts, definitely.”

“Really?  Come on, I thought we talked about this.  You agreed there are better uses than for your own vanity, I can think of 10 right off--.”

“It’s not about vanity man!  It’s about a place to begin.  If you expect me to actually make a real difference in the world, then part of that is building a brand, you know, so people will know who I am.  Also, I need to know the extent of what I can do in a controlled environment.  It’s not like I can practice at the gym!”

“Okay, but you honestly feel good about that? You could really hurt someone.”

“Look at it this way: I will have no idea what I am doing against a highly trained athlete who expects to get punched and kicked.  Man, why did I even tell you about what I can do, you’re worse than my mom sometimes.”

“That’s an easy one, because you were scared out of your mind the first time it happened, and I AM your best friend.  But seriously, if you go into the octagon, there is no way you can hide it.”

“Dude, I told you about the ghost image, no one will know anything.”

“Ah, is that what you’re calling it? By the way, did you figure out how long it lasts?”

“Well, I haven’t really needed it for more than a couple of minutes at a time, but no, not yet.  I can’t see a reason for pushing it further, what if other things get out of sync?”

“True, one screw up and you’re done, especially if it’s live on Pay-Per-View with millions watching.”

“I know man, but unless I get out there and start doing something bigger then I’ll just be the guy who helped his friends not get run over when they are drunk.  Like I told you, it only works when it’s real.

“Okay, but what happens when you start actually knocking people out. It will be a little suspicious. I mean, you’re not exactly George St. Pierre physically.”

“Man, give me some credit, I was a college athlete.”

“Dude. You rode the pine at a community college. But okay you brought it up, why not basketball? ”

“I don’t think it will work as well for b-ball. It won’t improve my jumpshot, I know that much.  A few more steals and blocks per game aren’t going to help me get there.  Plus Ultimate Fighting is hot right now, it’s an individual sport, and I can move up the ranks fast.”

“Okay, so let’s say that does happen. What then? You have the light heavyweight belt, so what?”

“You’re thinking too small.  I will be the only fighter not only undefeated, but also untouched, the greatest champion ever, boxing or otherwise.”

“No, no vanity there…”

“Look, if I want to actually start to influence people, I need to be known by people outside of MMA.  I have to turn heads from all directions. If I can build an image, I can start to get my message out.  People will care about what I say and do.”

“No, people will care about you knocking out the next fighter. They won’t look at your values or your personal life just because you’re the champ.”

“Oh really?  What about Lance Armstrong?  Tiger Woods?  Magic Johnson?  You don’t think people were influenced by their values?  Dude, it’s not just about image, I will be able to start to make a real difference with money too.   We’ve talked about it, micro-lending, scholarships, special needs gyms.”

“I know I know. But with what you can do, there are other ways to get money.”

“Well to me, this is one of the more honest ways. Also, can you think of a better way to test the extent of my gift? What the hell am I supposed to do, get a police scanner and start speeding around in the Civic trying to get to the next hostage situation before the police do?  It’s BS man, that stuff just doesn’t happen.

“Yeah, just pull up and yell, ‘Don’t worry guys, I got this one.  No, really, trust me.’”

 “I know right? Look man, MMA makes sense.  I’m already interested in it, so my fam and friends won’t freak. I’ll get a couple tattoos to round out the picture.”

“Bad-Ass Whitey?”

“DUDE, you just gave me my nickname!  B. A. W.!!!”

“Alright man, I’m in. But we have to be careful every step of the way. First and foremost at least make it look like you’re occasionally in danger.”

“Will do. I will definitely need you to help, especially when the money and fame start rolling in.”

“Yeah, and the ladies too. You have always needed help in that department.”

“That’s not what your mom said last night.”

“Nice, thanks for that. Once again, you’re all class. Ok, so I’m in.  What do we do first?”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Fireborn on December 18, 2010, 10:31:30 AM
So I put mine up as a blog post.  Which I will link to here (http://rampantandrhetoric.blogspot.com/2010/12/this-isnt-even-for-you.html).  Critique appreciated, but not necessary.  I'm mainly shooting for getting on WE.  *crosses fingers*
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Snuren on December 18, 2010, 12:51:47 PM
Hi! This is my first post on this forum. I didn't even know it existed, but thanks to BS, now I might have the opportunity to improve my fiction in the future.

- Mr. Admiral, you summoned me, sir.
- Yes. Sit down, captain.
- Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
- What is your report on the troops today, captain?
- Tired, sir. And hungry. They've been fighting all day, sir.
- What? I haven't had any report of enemy contact all day!
- I am sorry, sir. Each other.
- I beg your pardon?
- They have been fighting each other all day, sir.
- What? What have they been fighting for?
- The King, the Homeworld and eternal glory, sir.
- Blast it, man! What have they been fighting over?
- I am sorry, sir. Nothing but simple disagreements among the common soldiers, sir. Private Stormrider accused Private Bladefire of treachery, after noting that her performances had been more than just suspiciously lacking in yesterday's skirmish.
- Do we have any reason to suspect such treachery?
- Well, sir...
- What is it?
- May I speak frankly, sir?
- Come with it, man!
- Many of the soldiers are fighting friends and family out there, sir. My reports indicate that Private Bladefire is no exception. Her own brother is among the rebels.
- Bah! What are such misgivings to our noble cause? I myself have two neighbors and a sister among the rebel scum. From this vantage point I can almost see them! Can we suspect Private Bladefire of such weakness of character, Captain?
- No, sir. Her failing on the battlefield yesterday can be attributed to a myriad of of other factors, amongst which is that she had a rather cruel fall that left her with an ugly bruise on her knee, as well as our general unfamiliarity with the area and the rebels' enormous advantage in yesterday's skirmish.
- Captain. I am tired of the officers giving excuses. Yesterday's fiasco can be attributed to nothing but the incompetence of our own tacticians.
- But sir...!
- I have had it, I said! Poo-poo on all of you! We were a grander force and we had the advantage of advanced machinery on our side. There was no reason why we shouldn't have won that battle!
- But sir! The rebels were using dinosaurs!
- What!?
- It's true, sir. They did!
- But how the hell did they acquire those?
- They asked the teacher, sir. They explained their plight, and she bestowed upon them the availability of battle-ready velociraptors. They're armed too, sir!
- How is that fair?
- To be hones, sir, you did lay out the rules so that your force would be nigh unbeatable by the under-equipped rebels.
- But how are velociraptors even possible? Don't they suffocate and die on the zero-atmosphere battlefield?
- Apparently, sir, the teacher told the rebels that they won't die, unless you want to sit with her for the rest of recess, sir.
- Blast! Is there any way we can turn the tables, or at least even the scores slightly?
- Sir, one of our tacticians, Seargant Bloodtrail, has suggested that we request to use our special anti-raptor ninja battalion.
- We have an anti-raptor ninja battalion?
- It seems they were held back during the primary clashes with the rebels, sir. The ninja battalion is almost useless against anything but raptors.
- Excellent! An excellent proposition! Run it by the teacher immediately, and see if we can be granted permission to deploy them. This war might still be over before nap-time!
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: MannyBrainpan on December 18, 2010, 04:51:33 PM
Howdy, I've been listening to Writing Excuses for a while now, but I've finally decided to hop onto the community behind it. I wrote a dialogue exercise and posted the link on Thursday on Brandon Sanderson's Facebook. I know some people have visited that link but I just wanted to make sure that I was doing this right and posting it in the right place. So, I'm posting the link here too. My exercise is at this address: http://brainpan.webs.com/apps/blog/show/5612173-tears-a-short-climax-told-in-dialogue
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: luminos on December 18, 2010, 04:52:40 PM
Prompt: The Dialogue exercise

“Othar can’t be allowed to control the ceremony”

“Why not?  He knows the procedure well enough.  I doubt he’d make any errors.”

“Yes, but he lacks responsibility.  We have an opportunity to guide the foretelling to our benefit.  Othar is the sort that would squander it.”

“You would play politics with our greatest duty?  I had thought better of you.”

“Our greatest duty is to make certain the traditions are followed.  I have always been, and always will be, the best advocate we have for maintaining them.”

“If we abandon our role as neutral observers, then we abandon tradition.  Choosing a hero based on what we find convenient throws that out the window.”

“It is not necessarily a matter of convenience.  The hero has always been the one capable of handling the threats our city faced.  Alinar lifted the endless siege.  Oreth destroyed the pirate leagues.  What threat do we face now for the hero to triumph over?”

“There have been rumors that the Jungle Tribes are banding together.”

“The Jungle Tribes are on the other side of the world.  Just humor me, please.  List all of the potential threats we face from local enemies.”

“Harush is under control.  Minea is… no, they can’t do anything right now.  Hmmm.  Our borders are well protected from military problems for now.  There is always the possibility of a rebellion.”

“Unlikely.  The people are happy and wealthy.  There is little that would make them want to destabilize their position.  The cults are all comfortable with holding an official status.  The guilds thrive in peace.  And we control the military.  Insurrection is less likely than Harush gaining an unexpected army and attacking.”

“Well, suppose you are correct.  No threats face the city.  At least for now.  What purpose would we have for the hero?”

“Ah, but there you are wrong.  Threats do face the city.  The threat of the guilds, wanting to gain a greater role in public administration.  The threat of the cults, leading people away from tradition.  The threat of complacency, that will lead to people trying to change the way things should be.”

“Very clever.  You appeal to the warnings that I have been giving for years.  Do you have a new solution in mind?

“The new solution is the same as the old one.  Our order directs all public policy, and we make the decisions that will keep the people safe.”

“Ah, I think I understand what you have been getting at.  With a hero that supports us, that tells the city what it needs to hear, we can acquire the position that is necessary for us to lead.”

“Precisely.  Othar would never understand this point.  Without our foretelling, the city would never have a hero in the first place.  Our loss of prominence is the threat the hero must protect the city from.

“Manipulating this foretelling would be highly unorthodox.  I’m still not fully comfortable with the notion.”

“It’s not really so unprecedented.  When there is a drought, do you ever look for signs that indicate the drought will continue?”

“You know that that is not the case.  When we need rain, I find the signs that say it will rain.”

“And when the ports need calm water, I find the signs that say there will be no wind.”

“Yes, but…”

“We decide these things!  It rains because we want it to.  The fog clears because we want it to.  We simply use the signs as justification for our predictions.”

“The hero’s prophecy is different.”

“In practice, but not in theory.  There has never been a better time to see if the theory holds true in this regard.  If we are wrong, there is little we have to worry about.  Our external threats are distant, so failing to find a hero is trivial.  If we are right, then we gain a powerful tool to correct wrongs and grow the prestige of our city.”

“I see.  Yes, perhaps this would be the best way to handle the foretelling.  Care must be taken so that the hero seems to have a purpose beyond helping our order.  But this will only be for the good of all.”

“Then I can count on you to support me?  Your vote has influence in our order.  If you want me to lead the ceremony, others will join you.”

“Your words make me wish to support this plan, but your ambition makes me hesitate.  You speak far too often of influence and power.  You entered our order faster than almost anyone else.  And now you plot for control over our most important function?

“But you agreed that my plan was a good one!  What are your doubts about my ambition next to the good we could do for the city?”

“You are too clever.  Far more clever than me.  What assurances do I have that you will not be using the foretelling to gain personal control?”

“If you cannot trust me, then why not lead the ceremony yourself?  So long as you agree on what should be done, I will support you.  It wouldn’t be too difficult for you to get others to do the same.”

“This would be a great burden for me.  But for the good of the city, I will accept your support.  Shall we agree to this arrangement?”

“I see two birds, flying in from the sea.  By this sign, we must keep to our agreement in order for either of us to succeed.”

“I see a dead field mouse.  By this sign, we must not reveal this agreement to others, or great peril will befall the one who does.”

“I see the banners on the walls lying flat, for there is no wind.  By this sign, the agreement is not to be altered.”

“I see what you see.  We are in accord.”

“I see what you see.  We are in accord.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: CBMoore71 on December 18, 2010, 07:10:34 PM
Prompt: Brandon's Dialogue Exercise

This is my first attempt at writing, although I've been itching to try for a while now. I know it's short, but it amuses me, and I felt it was about to fall apart. Comments welcome.

Oops! or, Trouble on the Night Shift
by Brad Moore

“Oops…”

“Oops? Really?”

“I didn’t think that would happen.”

“Did you think at all before you started?”

“Obviously I thought about the consequences, just not this consequence.”

“You can’t be serious; you’re calling this a consequence.”

“Well…, yes…, a big consequence, but still just a consequence.”

“So who’s going to explain this consequence?”

“I was hoping you would, since I’ll probably be busy trying to figure out how to fix this.”

“Fix it? How can you possibly fix it?”

“I don’t know yet, that’s why I’m going to be busy, trying to come up with a solution without a consequence like this one had.”

“I can’t believe you’re sticking with consequence. Aside from that, do you have any idea what went wrong?”

“Sort of…”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I didn’t really understand what this did, or how violent the outcome might be.”

“You mean that aside from pushing a button you were curious about you didn’t consider asking anyone else what it might do?”

“There wasn’t anyone else to ask, and besides, I’m an experimentalist.”

“An experimentalist, in a nuclear facility? Are you insane? Do you have any idea what you could have done?”

“I believe so; better now of course, after the, um, consequence of that last experiment.”

“Do you have any more experiments planned, or can I leave you alone for a few minutes to report this?”

“I don’t have any planned, but this one wasn’t really scheduled either.”

“Before I go, let me ask you a question, how did you even get hired for this project?”

“I have a unique skill set that is in extremely high demand.”

“A unique skill set, and yet you haven’t learned to never push a giant red button that is plainly marked ‘In Case of Emergency Only’ without understanding what it did beforehand, incredible.”

“In my defense, it was dark in here when I pushed it.”

“How does that change anything?”

“Well, if you don’t want someone to press the big red button, why is right beside the light switch anyway?”

“It’s beside the light switch so you can hit it while running away from the building.”

“Oh..., well..., that makes sense I guess.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I’ve been thinking about the consequence..”

“great…”

“..and it seems that the best thing to do is try to get the alarms shut off and fix the...”

“Consequence?”

“Yes; before anyone else gets here.”

“That would make sense, if this weren’t a nuclear facility! Shut the alarms off…fix the..., where did they find you?”

“I’ve done some work for the CIA.”

“The CIA, what in the world would the Agency need a physicist for?”

“Physicist? I’m not a physicist.”

“Well, what are you then?”

“I’m the night janitor.”

“You have got to be kidding!”

“No sir, I just started tonight.”

“You don’t say…”

“Do you think there might be ramifications?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised…”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Kessler on December 18, 2010, 08:42:30 PM
Writing Prompt: Dialogue Exercise

''So you wish to join the secret circle of Luminescent Ether. I'll need to ask you a few questions, before I present you to the rest of the group.''

''Of course. I'm ready to answer.''

''How old are you? I can't tell without the tattoos.''

''Eighteen.''

''Good. I'm twenty, twenty-two. You are a village-folk, right?''

''I've arrived in the city two days ago. Before that I lived at the Westedge village.''

''The one at the edge of the shard, I know about it. Well, two days in the city and already seeking to join a circle. That's unusually fast.''

''Elder said city-folk are different from village-folk. That you lie and cheat, despite living together. However, people in secret circles try to be honest with each other. He advised me to join one as soon as possible.''

''That is true to a certain extent. It was a good advice anyway. So why did you decide to leave the village?''

''The drummers for Triumvirate came three times, to get us join the war. We just threw schlock at them every time, but it got me thinking. Why is there war? What's going on in the rest of the world? I decided to find out.''

''Naturally. The instinct to learn is hard to ignore, once its awakened.''

''So our elder told me to go to the city and look for answers here.''

''Now, that sounds a bit odd. It's not often that village elders send their people to the cities. Usually they try to stop the person from leaving.''

''I... perhaps became a bit of a nuisance, with all my questions and other stuff. He might have thought I could get others to think about leaving.''

''Possible. So you'd like to learn about the war?''

''I don't want to learn fighting. Just the reason, why it is happening and how will it end.''   

''Haven't drummers told you?''

''I wouldn't trust them. Elder said they were lying to get us join. I've talked to one of them outside the village. He said he didn't know, if what he was telling was the truth. Just that it was an easy way to earn crystals.''

''I see. Now we need to sort out two things before you can be admitted to the circle. Both are just old traditions. Do you know that becoming a city-folk will reduce your lifespan? It's a question I'm obligated to ask you.''

''Yes. I'm not sure how much though.''

''That would depend on what you wish to learn and how fast. One of our members is skilled in calculating these things. You can talk to him, after you are accepted.''

''Do city-folk regret living shorter lives?''

''I don't think our lives are actually shorter. They may not be as stretched as yours, but that makes them thicker. In my count, I've really lived these forty two years. Trust me you'll feel the same, if you chose to learn.''

''I've thought about it. I'll find my answers and go back to Westedge. That shouldn't take more then a decade.''

''We'll see. Let's move on to the second tradition. Whenever a person joins a secret circle, he must share information with others. It doesn't need to be valuable, people mostly tell folk tales. You should have a story prepared, when the time comes.''

''I know a tale of the revenants from the mists. Usually when the mist comes, it takes people away, but sometimes, very rarely, a person comes from it instead. That person has no memories and even has to be taught speech again. Will it do?''

''Interesting. The  story about mists is  pretty common  in villages. It's probably true, at least in some way. The revenant part is a popular city-folk tale. It's about men, who burn away their lives in learning. After death comes to them, they revive on the next day, without any memories. From that day forward, no matter how much they learn, they don't age.  This is the first time I've heard these two tales connected together.''
 
''Can I ask you something?''

''Of course. However, don't consider it rude if I don't answer you right now. In the cities, you need to pay for valuable answers.''

''I've already found that out. Why would you be willing to accept me? I mean circle members are supposed to help each other out, but what use would I be to you? I don't know anything.''

''First, it's because you are a village-folk. You are trustworthy and fierce, when it comes to protecting your friends.''

''I may be hurting my case, but I'm hardly an average village-folk, seeing how I'm here right now.''

''I'm sorry,  of course you are a person, not a stereotype. But still statistically, it is more often true, then not. As for your individual worth, there is a benefit to having someone without preconceptions. You ask fresh questions. It's possible you'll be worth us your weight in crystals.''

''I understand. So what else do you need to know?''

''Nothing. I think I've just made up my mind. Unfortunately, I can't let you join.''

''What? But you just said... Why?''

''Because I think you aren't what you claim to be. That question wasn't something a village boy would ask, after only two days in the city. And you overplay ignorance too much, village-folk know more, then we in cities credit them for. I think you are a spy and you are here to hurt either my circle or my city.''

''It's not true! You can't just think that, because of a single question. Of course I'm curious, that's why I left the village. You just praised the ability to ask unexpected questions!''

''Don't make a scene, boy. I know that you aren't village-folk. It wasn't the question that betrayed you, but I'm not going to reveal how I found it out. Just leave it be''

''The story about the revenant and the mists. It's about me.''

''What?''

''I'm the revenant. And I'm connected to the war somehow. Please listen, I'll explain everything.''
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: PomegranateSunrise on December 18, 2010, 10:34:40 PM
I know it's not 1000 words, but I figured I'd give it a go.

"And so, it seems we're here again. Oh doesn’t it bring back the warmest memories of brotherly-and-sisterly love. Namely dramatic gun-fights, and dank prison cells? . . .  Except this time, brother, the odds have been reversed. This time I'm the one sitting on the chair of power. This time I'm the trusted attendant to our beloved chancellor, you having been disposed of as a rebel."

“You traitor!

“That’s nothing new brother. I would have thought you’d expect me to frame you.”

"My name will be cleared!"

"Oh really."

"He doesn't trust you. He'll see through your character and realize you're a back-biting serpent. You don't deserve to lick his feet."

"Please, enough with your honor mentality! Ha, If there is one thing I've learned from this reality, it's that you must do what it takes to get what you want. And in this case the ends very much do justify the means. . . Do you know why you are here brother?"

"I am here, because I believe in human freedom. Because I believe in Humankind's right to think freely, and in the liberty of Plexi-Universe"

"Tsk, tsk tsk, such naive ideas. No substance at all. What a pity. You had a bright mind. If it wasn't for Mother and Father I really could have made something from you."

"I knew you were a snake every since you were seven and I was three. You and all the Dimension Jumpers! I would never have apprenticed to you."

"Of course, and why should you have. You were Heir to a Universe. You had everything. Why would you want to drop it all and lead a life of travel and hard living. As far as you could tell there was nothing to gain. Well I'll tell you, I saw what was to be gained and I did the work. Now, after ten years of back-breaking work. Ten years of threading and re-weaving the political matrices it's all about to pay off. I'll finally get what is my due. Soon the Chancellor will be dead. And the story that will be circulating is he was tragically killed by his previous attendant, who escaped from prison with the help of his home planet . . . Ixon. That is, as long as you be a good boy and don't get in the way."

"You monster! You can't indicate our planet! The people love this Chancellor, they'll tear Ixon apart! If I was free-"

"Don't waste your breathe, Joseph you aren't. I have you tied to a bench with unbreakable metal cords found on a small planet in the Vima Universe. You are sitting next to a machine, that at the slightest notification from me will put a tranquilizer through your skin. Not to mention the twelve security cameras lining this room. I have dozens of reinforcements I can call if you do so much as point your finger in a pretend gun."

"You won't get away with it. My spies have been following you and they'll alert the Chancellor's body-guards."

"You mean the twelve men I have contained in twelve similar interrogation rooms below this one? I know it’s your greatest wish to be a step ahead of me at least once in your life, but that dream will remain unrealized."

"Your lying!"

"Think what you will. But as when the king has no more options in the popular game from a small planet in the Gamma Universe, yes "Chess" I believe it's called. I say "Check Mate." You have not more options."

"It can't be!"
"Face it, brother. But if you consent to play along now, I'll grant you your life. You could be useful to me. Showing the populations that I have captured their Chancellor's assassin would, to put it bluntly, 'make me look good'."

"Never. Not in all the realities existing. You say you will grant me my life? Well what is my life now. I swore in my initiating pledges as heir that I would never betray my people. And even if you have framed me to look as though I have broken them, my vows still bind me."

"Oh very well. Your loss. My plan goes into action in . . . Precisely two minutes. And since you are still here I doubt you will stop me. Farewell . . . brother! You'll see me in a different light soon."

"No! Please!"

"Oh Joseph, no use begging. After all, it’s only a chess game."
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Stony Creek on December 18, 2010, 11:41:09 PM
Prompt: The Dialogue exercise

Thanks for the chance to join in.

Title: Not sure yet

“… out of here! Right now!”

“What? Huh? What’s that?”

“Hang on, I’m almost out.”

“Who’s there? I demand that you release me from this, this … whatever it is this instant.”

“Ok friend, let me see what I can do.”
 
“I’m not sure we’re communicating, I didn’t ask you to ‘see what you can do’, I’m telling you that you had better get me out of this thing or else.”

“Calm down mate, I’m working on it.”

“I wish you would work a little faster.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s my shoulder.”

“How did you get in there?”

“That’s real funny pal, now can we get on with this and get me the heck out of here.”

“Suit yourself, I’m just trying to be polite. Besides I don’t have anything other than this piece of drift wood. I was hoping you could help me out, I’d hate to accidentally hurt you or something.”

“Are you threatening me? I don’t think you know who I am, my father is …”

“You’re absolutely right, I have no idea who you are. I’m just trying to help out mate. If we could just work together this might go a lot easier.”

“Ok, what do you want me to do?”

“First of all it might help if I knew your name.”

“You really don’t know who I am?”

“Nope, I don’t.”

“My name is Kenneth Ronald Messman Jr., my father is …”

“That’s enough for now Ken. Move your hands so I can tell exactly where they are.”

“Alright I see them, now spread your arms apart.”

“That’s good, hold them right there. Now Ken I’m going to try and poke a hole in this pod with a piece of drift wood I have here. So you have to hold your arms still. Can you see this?”

“Kind of, I can feel it in my arms.”

“That’s where I’m going to try and punch a hole, ok?”

“Alright, but be careful.”

“Hey, don’t pound that thing into my chest.”

“That’s what I was afraid of, we’re going to have to try something different. How far can you push your arms away from your body?”

“That’s it ay? That’s some kind of strong material, I wonder what it is?”

“I have no idea, but I’m more interested in getting out of here than analyzing the freakishly strong wrapper I’m trapped in.”

“Ok, push your arms out again.”

“That’s good. Ready? Here I go.”

“Ow! Are you trying to kill me? I think I’m bleeding.”

“Sorry about that mate. That was a bit unexpected. But it worked. Now that there’s a little hole I can make it bigger. You’ll be out in just a minute.”

“There we go, can you stand up?”

“Are you alright? I don’t see much blood, is that where I nicked you?”

“It felt a lot worse than it looks. I’ll be fine, but remind me never to trust you again.”

“Any idea how we got here?”

“I was about to ask you the same question.”

“I’m guessing from your accent you’re from Australia.”

“Actually I’m from England. You from the states?”

“Boston, Massachusetts. How old are you?”

“I’m fifteen, how about you?”

“I’m sixteen.  So, you really don’t know why we’re here or what we’re supposed do? If you’re pranking me…”

“Not the foggiest. But this fabric we were in is intriguing. Did you notice water never came inside?”

“Of course I noticed that.”

“Whoever put us in these pods and threw us in the water didn’t intend to kill us. It looks like this material was designed to keep us alive. In addition to keeping the water out it had to allow air to flow in – otherwise we would have suffocated. And take a look at this, there are no seams. I wonder how we were sealed inside?”

“And one more thing, take a look right here. Almost the entire pod is flexible, except for this one spot. It’s very brittle, like an egg shell. See how easily it breaks?”

“I see. What does it mean?”

“Hey, look over there what’s that?”

“What? Where are you going? You didn’t answer my question, what does it mean?”

“I’m not sure. Come see this. It’s the fabric of another pod, same exact thing as the ones you and I were in – only this one’s empty. We’re not the only ones here.”

“I don’t see anyone around here, where did he go?”

“There are tracks leading up the beach into the jungle. I don’t see any other signs. Except! Look back past where we were, way over there. I think I see… 1… 2… 3… 4… there’s 5 more pods washed up in the surf over there. And they don’t look empty. We have to go see if we can help.”



“Does that look like the head to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“I have an idea. Let’s get all the pods up out of the water. Help me pick this one up, grab it down there.”

“Why? What’s that going to do?”

“I’m not sure but I have a hunch. You want to lend me a hand?”

“Hang tight in there mate, we’re going to get the others out of the water. We’ll be back to help you get out in a few minutes.”

“Come on, let’s go get the next one.”



“What are you doing to me? Where are you taking me? What is going on?”

“Umm, we’re trying to help you. We’re moving you out of the water. There are three others we need to get out of the water, then we’ll be back to help get you out of the pod.”

“Come on Ken, let’s keep moving. Pod number three is over there.”

“Did that sound like a girl to you?”

“Yeah, it did.”



“I’m waiting till that big wave passes.”

“Ok, let’s go.”

“Who’s there? Are you friend or foe?”

“We’re trying to help you. We think if we move you out of the water it’ll be easier to get you out of there.”

 “I suppose I have no other choice than to trust you.”

“We’ll be back in a few minutes, after we get the other pods out of the water.”



“This is pod number four.”

“Hello, anybody home?”

 “I think you scared him, or her, speechless.”

“Very funny. Let’s move on.”



“Last one. Now that’s done let’s sit down for a second.”

“So, why did we need to move all the pods out of the water? It’s hot out here, wouldn’t it be cooler for them in the water?”

“Yeah you’re right, that black fabric is going to heat up quickly – I’m counting on that; but I didn’t think about how hot it would be on the inside. We’d better hurry back to the first one and help him get out of the pod. Let’s go.”

“Why not start with this one, while we’re here?”

“You remember how hard the pod fabric was on your shoulder? When I tapped on it it made a loud, hollow sound, like it was made of thick plastic?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, that was the highest part of your pod out of the water. I think as the pod dries in the sun the fabric hardens, and therefore will be easier to break open. If we go back to the first one we’ll see if my theory is correct. In the meantime this one will have time to harden. Let’s go back to the first pod and see.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: CSatterfield on December 19, 2010, 12:23:20 AM
Like a few others, here's my first post ever! Be gentle...  ;-)

Brandon's Challenge: Dialogue

Literature, the RTS Edition    (817 words)
by Clifton Satterfield


“Bottom line, this is a terrible way to begin the story.”

“It...it was just a thought.”

“Well, it’s a bad one. No one like boardroom scenes; they’re boring.”

“A boardroom scene? But there’s no boardroom, it’s just people meeting in an alley.”

“Exactly! It’s a meeting. A meeting to discuss what the story is about. It’s completely unnecessary; a good story shouldn’t have to explain itself.”

“Okay...so what would you do?”

“Simple. Have your characters each receive written instructions. They’ll know what’s expected of them, and the audience will have to figure it out along the way.”

“Won’t that be confusing?”

“Only if you assume the audience isn’t intelligent. It’s always a good idea to think of your audience as being as competent as yourself….or me, in your case.”

“Okay...so we’ll have them get letters...maybe privately? That way they can be fiddling with them as the story plays out.”

“Now you’re thinking!”

“What if they don’t want to follow the directions?”

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe they’ll think they have a plan, and won’t want to do what we write.”

“This is your first evinxi, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

“Believe me, they’ll be compelled to follow written instructions just as much as the ones we send through the modulators. It’s only the details they can change.”

“Okay. So what should we write?”

“Well, that really depends on the person. Take the child, for example. How do you suppose she might add to the story?”

“She might slow them down, I guess. Probably need more explanations and time before getting anywhere.”

“Think with more subtleness. What can children do very well?”

“Eat, defecate, cry, complain…”

“They cry and complain. Exactly. Now tell me, how does the sound of a crying child make you feel?”

“Anxious. Maybe a little depressed...oh! You want to use her to demoralize the group!”

“Yes. If we simply tell her to ‘be sad’ more often, we can bring out excellent conflicts amongst the others. After a few days of hearing a depressed child complain, the characters will be very strained; all the things they feel will start bubbling to the surface. Some may begin to doubt themselves, some may go mad, others may plan ways to….silence….the child.”

“You’re right….that’s very subtle. Devious, too.”

“Now you try. Tell me a way to use your elder male character.”

“Well, he’s the oldest of the group, so he’ll have gone through several stories already. He may not be quite as susceptible to our influences on morale.”

“Yes...it’s likely he’s already in a constant state of depression.”

“I’m thinking we should have him killed off early, then. Tossing in a murder so early in the story will add a bit of extra conflict; everyone will be trying to figure out who killed him.”

“That’s true, but unimaginative. You seem to be full of boring thoughts today. Again, try to be subtle. The whole point of these stories is to find out how the minutia of a character matters.”

“Let’s see, then. He’s an elderly man. Older people are slower, they seem wiser, they have experience, they…wait...they have a heritage to worry about. He’ll be the most selfish person there!”

“Doing well so far, keep it up!”

“If he’s selfish, he’ll want to survive the story in good condition.”

“And the best way to survive a story?”

“Eliminate the competition.”

“Right.”

“I’ll give his suspicion a boost then, make him think everyone is out for themselves.”

“Perfect. That way, we may even get a murder or two without direct influence. Think how exciting that would be to the audience! Not to mention how it would look on your resume.”

“What about the other characters?”

“Seeing as this is your first go at this, you shouldn’t try to manipulate too many factors. It’s probably best to put in a few broad strokes here. Be as simple as possible with the rest.”

“Let’s make the mother and father overprotective.”

“Excellent. A bit of whining from the little one should push their anxiety levels through the roof. Not to mention set the elder to worrying about the danger they might pose if anything untoward should happen to their young.”

“I feel like there should be an angry character. The woman, perhaps.”

“That works. It’s always a good idea to have some hate mixed into the story. It keeps the other characters on their toes. And for the last one? The young man?”

“It may seem a bit cliche, but I want him to think he’s the hero. I want him to try to save everyone.”

“Not really that cliche. I find it a good policy to have at least one character audiences can despise. Maybe this one will find a way to get them all to a happy ending.”

“Really? You think it’s possible?”

“Of course not. It would be much too boring.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: LuosNaeco on December 19, 2010, 01:01:50 AM
Heh. Seems like this forum is getting a lot of new users from this dialogue exercise. :)
Here's mine. No title yet.
1133 words.

“Shh, be quiet! Don’t struggle. I’m going to let you go, just don’t scream!”
“Get off me! Who are you? How did you find me?”
“I am nobody important. And I’m not going to hurt you, so lower your voice. You don’t want to let the guards know you’re here, trust me.”
“There are no guards around here. And you didn’t answer my question!”
“For the love of…! If you don’t sit down and stop yelling I’m going to drop you off the wall.”
“Alright, alright, I’m calm.”
“Good. Now, how did you get up here? How did you avoid the guards?”
“Look, I already told you. There are no guards around here. I’ve been walking on this wall for days, and I haven’t seen a soul. Not until you showed up with that monkey at least.”
“You’ve been unbelievably lucky then. These people don’t treat trespassers with any mercy.”
“What people? Who are you? How did you find me?”
“I did not find you. I stumbled on you.”
“What? You mean you don’t know who I am?”
“No, and I don’t care. You’re going to have to come with me now. I can’t take the chance of you telling anyone about me.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“To the castle. Lord Desney has got something I need.”
“Oh, no. You cannot go there sir. Nobody has ever come out of the tower alive.”
“I know that. But I have to. There is no other way. If you’ve really been walking around here for days, then I could use you.”
“Use me? Use me for what? I’m not lifting a finger for you before I know who you are and what you intend to do to me.”
“Fine, but once I tell you, you’re either in, or I will have to throw you off the wall. I can’t afford to let you run around knowing about my intentions. You sure you want to know?”
“Do I have a choice? Sounds to me like I’m damned either way. Hey! Keep that monkey away from my pack!”
“Come here, Abu! You’re not damned if you come with me. It sounds like your luck is in good shape. Let’s hope it stays that way. I’m going to the castle to steal the Lord’s crown.”
“The crown? Are you completely insane? Lord Desney keeps it with him at all times. You don’t have a chance. His minions will kill you before you get within a hundred feet of him.”
“No they won’t. Because they’ll never even know I was there. Look up at the sky.”
“What? The stars?”
“Exactly.”
“What about them? I don’t…”
“Haven’t you heard the legends? The stars have power beyond anything you can imagine. You just have to wish upon the correct one.”
“But how do you find the correct one?”
“I already found mine. It all depends on which star you were born under. It’s going to grant me one wish. Only one, but it should be enough.”
“I see. So you’re going to wish for all his minions to disappear or something?”
“No, that will alert the Lord that something is up. And the wish cannot be something that harms other people. It has to be something innocent and childlike. The stars aren’t evil; they are just helping those who need it.”
“So what are you going to wish for, then?”
“I don’t know yet. I need to see the castle first. Learn my way around it. I might even be so lucky that I won’t have to use my wish tonight. Do you know what star you’re born under?”
“Can’t say that I do. But now that you mention it, my father was awfully obsessed with the stars. He’s a carpenter you see, and one time he told me that he made a puppet that turned to life because he wished for it. I never believed him before. I mean really? A puppet? He even went on about how it later turned halfway into a donkey for goodness sake.”
“I never heard about that. But it makes sense. Lord Desney has powers that you and I can only dream about. If he wanted to turn people into donkeys, then he would.”
“Are you serious? You really believe that?”
“Listen kid. You’re young. I have seen things that would give you nightmares if I told you about them. There are things in this world that would turn your hair white. And all of them are the work of Lord Desney. He must be stopped.”
“And you’re going to do that by stealing his crown?”
“Yes. His crown is the source of all his powers. A wizard made it for him a long time ago while he worked as the wizard’s apprentice.”
“I’ve heard the legends sir. But I still think it’s impossible to steal the crown. His castle is crowded with his minions. Guards at every corner, ravens circling the towers, thunder and lightning all around the area. I’ve been there once. Me and a friend of mine watched from a distance. We saw the Lord himself, looking out a window in the tallest spire. Simply looking at him gave me the shivers.”
“You’ve been there? How long ago?”
“A couple of years I should think. Why?”
“Darn. That’s too long. I know he has expanded his castle a lot since then. He had his slaves dig a moat around the walls and filled it with hungry alligators.”
“There’s just no way then. Sir, please. He surely has the main gate guarded more heavily than any fortress in the history of the universe. Why don’t we just walk away?”
“Because it’s what must be done! Too long have I stood by and watched this tyrant enslave the lands. Somebody has to do something!”
“But, what can we possibly do to stop him? He lives in the middle of the most impenetrable fortress ever made.”
“Don’t you see, kid? Right now, we have the chance to do something great. All we need is to get into that fortress, steal his crown, and rid the world of his tyranny once and for all. We have the power to make a difference. So it is our duty to try. I didn’t want to get anyone else involved, sorry. But here you are, so maybe you can do some good after all.”
“But I don’t…”
“Forget it. Either you come with me, or I’ll tie you up in a sack and leave you here. Which is it going to be?”
“You really think I can help?”
“Sure you can. You just have to believe in yourself.”
“I…I guess I’ll give it a try. But what if we fail?”
“What if we succeed? Don’t think about failing. Let’s just go for it!”
“Okay.”
“Good. Let’s go!”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Searcher on December 19, 2010, 01:10:49 AM
Only 334 words. It's my first time (That's my excuse).
Title: "I'm a Numb"
By Gene Ellis

“I’m a Numb”

“A what?”

“A Numb”

“What’s a Numb?”

“I don’t feel.”

“What like no emotions?”

“No. Like if I get cut, I don’t feel it.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. What are you doing?”

“I wanna see.”

“See what? Put your knife away.”

“I wanna see if you really don’t feel pain.”

“How about I stab you to see if you really do feel pain?”

“Well that’s not very nice.”

“And, stabbing me is just friendly?”

“I’m not going to cut deep. It won’t kill you.”

“Look at my bandages man. Doesn’t it look like I have enough trouble without you stabbing me for fun?”

“I wasn’t going to keep doing it for giggles. I’m not sadistic. I’m just curious.

“I don’t care. It’s rude. Hey, stop that!”

“What? I didn’t stab you.”

"I don’t like you touching me either, weirdo.”

“How do you know I touched you?”

“I have eyes dummy.”

“So, did you feel it?”

“I told you, I don’t feel.”

“So, it didn’t hurt?”

“I told you, I don’t… Why would it hurt?”

“No reason.”

“You pinched me didn’t you? You freak! You left a bruise. My wife is going to have fun with that one.”

“You have a wife?”

“Yea, and she likes to give me a hard time about bruises that look like hickies. Pinches always look like hickies. She
grins, points, and says, ‘Hey. Who’s the new woman?’”

“How do you…”

“What?”

“You know, do married stuff?”

“Argue? Oh, we do that just fine.”

“No, I mean—“

“I know what you mean, and that’s none of your business!”

“Well, you can’t feel so… I was just curious.”

“Yes, you mentioned that. Do you know what I’m curious about?”

“What?”

“How long are we going to stand here and talk? Let’s get out of here, so I can get back to my wife and kids.”

“You have kids? So, you can—“

“Shut up and walk Mr. Curious.”

“I can walk and talk at the same time.”

“Unfortunately.”



Title: Re: Writing Prompts! Dialogue
Post by: RDDK on December 19, 2010, 01:33:39 AM
Dialogue Prompt:

“I think you did it wrong.”

“What do you mean? My dress turned blue, can't you see?”

“It did..., but so did your hair.”

“What!”

“You better fix it or Master will know we borrowed his Book of Spells.”

“But I don't know how. It doesn't say it on this page.”

“Then keep looking. I told you not to do it.”

“No, you didn't. You said, 'I bet you can't do it.'”

“Same thing.”

“It is not.”

“Master won't care.”

“I aught to turn you blue, now that I know the spell.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Maybe I would.”

“If you do, I'll turn you into a newt.”

“You don't know how.”

“I turned someone into a newt, once.”

“Yeah, but that was before you knew you could do magic. You didn't even know what you were doing.”

“I can do it again.”

“I doubt it. Now, stop bothering me, I have to find a hair spell. I don't see any hair sections in the table of contents.”

“I can too turn you into a newt.”

“Prove it or be quiet. Who knows when Master Obern will be back.”

“Grr.”

“Are you doing it? I don't hear any words.”

“Obviously. It's a silent spell. I do it by thinking, the way the masters do it.”

“Mhm.”

“Hrshh.”

“What–Oh.”

“Hrshh (It didn't work.)”

“Uh-oh.”

“Hrshrsh (What is it?)”

“Now you've done it, Furgin.”

Hrshrshhsh (Done what? I told you, it didn't work–did you grow taller?)”

“I think I can fix this. I saw something in the book.”

Hershrshrshrsh (Fix what, your hair?)”

“Ah, here it is.”

Hrshshshrsh (Stop pointing your finger at me like that. It's dangerous.)”

“Homoncos-huminos-rectis!”

“How dare you cast a spell on me!”

“I thought you'd be more grateful.”

“Grateful? What did you do to me? Am I blue? No, red? I bet you made me red. You know I hate the color red.”

“I turned you back.”

“Turned me back? From what?”

“How could you not realize that you turned into a newt?”

“What are you talking about? That's ridicules.”

“You couldn't even tell the difference. I always knew you had a pea-sized brain.”

“I do not. You are such a liar, Tessabelle. I bet you just said nonsense words, trying to scare me.”

“I don't care if you believe me. Now, help me find the right spell. It's almost dark and Master Obern will be back soon.”

“What do you want me to do? You have the spell book.”

“It's a big book Furgs. Start from from the back. We can hold the middle pages up.”

“I told you not to call me that”

“Just do it!”

“Fine, fine. You don't need to cry about it. Always 'Furgin to the rescue.'”

“I wish you knew a spell of silence.”

“If I did, I'd cast it on you.”

“If I were only so lucky.”


“Find it yet?”

“Don't you think I would have said something if I found it?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

“Don't be stupid.”

“You shouldn't call me stupid if you want my help.”

“You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just worried.”

“Why?”

“What if Master Obern sends me away?”

“He wouldn't do that, would he?”

“How many times did he tell us not to do magic when he wasn't here, and to 'Never touch my spell book.'”

“But you're the best apprentice he's ever had. He always says that when he thinks I'm not around.”

“You heard him?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry, Furgs.”

“It's okay. If you were weak, I wouldn't like you.”

“Thanks.”

“And anyways, you're the strongest now, but just wait. I'm going to be the most powerful man in the land.”

“King of the newts?”

“King of the world.”

“That is powerful. Has the future King of the newts found the right spell yet?”

“No, not ye—Oh. I think I found something.”

“What is it?”

“Right here. It says it is a dispelling spell.”

“Let me see it? Ah. 'Whomever it is cast upon, will be disenchanted from any spells or curses laid upon them, but only  by those of an equal or lesser power.' Perfect.”

“Better hurry up. I think I hear Master on the stairs.”

“Right. Let's see. Scrubin-purita-unmagi!”

“Uh-oh.”

“Oh no. It didn't work? What do I—”

“Just kidding.”

“You—Quick, that's the door. Put the book back!”

“Why me? Oomph.”

“Hello Master Obern.”

“Good evening Tessabelle. Where is Furgin?”

“He's in the other room. He said I was distracted him.”

"Ah, there you are."

“Hello Master.”

“Good evening Furgin. Have you two been meditating the way I showed you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Yes, Master Obern.”

“Very good. Now, run along to the kitchen and have your dinner. I know how hungry meditation always makes me.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Thank you, Master Obern.”

“I'll see you both in the morning. We're going to learn a new spell, color changing. Very tricky stuff.”

“That sounds great, Master.”

“Very exciting, Master Obern.”

“Goodnight, Master.”

“Goodnight, Furgin.”

Goodnight, Master Obern.”

“Goodnight, Tessabelle.”

“We did it.”

“Shh. Did you close the door?”

“I'm not stupid.”

“I know. Thank you so much, Furgs. You saved me.”

“You're welcome, now stop hugging me.”

“I thought my heart was going to explode when he came in.”

“Mine too.”

"And tomorrow! You don't think he's fooling us, do you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. He gets very angry about his rules."

"Yeah, you're right."


"Hey, smell that?”

“Mmm. Lamb.”

“Casting spells makes me hungry.”

“I'm hungry, too.”

“Probably from the newt spell.”

“The newt spell? Are you still trying trick me. I'm not that dumb, Tessabelle.”

“I guess not.”


------------

Robert Davis
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: batik on December 19, 2010, 03:38:34 AM
Prompt: Brandon's Dialogue Exercise

   “Right or left?”

   “Left.”

   “Why? Because you think left is lucky? That argument still doesn’t hold air. I say right.”

   “Right? Of course you say right. You can never admit you’re wrong.”

   “Ha ha. I took a class on Atmosphere Mechanics, and I remember a diagram of a proportional gas mixer like this. The switch needs to be set right for a human-compatible air mix. Not left.”

   “You mean Intro to Atmosphere Mechanics? Did you even pass that?”

   “I would have if…”

   “So you didn’t. And you expect me to believe you remember which way a switch needs to be set on a proportional gas mixer, one that might not even be similar to this mixer, from a diagram that you probably glanced at for three seconds two years ago. Are you breathing fumes? How much air’s left in that suit of yours?”

   “It’s better than your lucky hand. And I think I have five minutes worth left.”

   “You think? What, you can’t calculate how much air you have left with your Net Link down, but you expect me to risk my life on your memory?”

   “It’s not that simple. I’m trying to correct for my increased consumption rate, or do you not get that my life’s on the line here too.”

   “Oh, I get it. But in six minutes I’ll be out of air. So if we don’t get this mixer running, with the right gas mix, it won’t matter that we found an old emergency shelter hut, because we’ll both be dead.”

   “If I hadn’t remembered this hut, we’d still be out in that Sandstorm-“

   “Not this again. If we’d gone left back when I first said, we wouldn’t have needed a hut in the first place. We’d have been back on Base before the storm hit.”

   “It made just as much sense to go right.”

   “Not to anyone that can read a 3-d map, it didn’t.”

   “And if you could really have read that map without the aid of your Net Link, like you should have been able to, you would have been able to convince me to go left. Maps were, after all, your specialty. Navigator.”

   “Well, if you trust your own call so much, Commander, why haven’t you already flipped the switch right? Worried?”

   “Me? With you here to support me? How… Ow, that’s loud. Time’s up.”

   “No. It can’t be. I still had three minutes left.”

   “Now who can’t account for how much air they have left without their Net Link. We burn through air faster in panic situations.”

   “You should have just flipped the damn switch.”

   “Oh? And which way should I have flipped it?”

   “What do I care? A fifty-fifty chance beats zero. I can’t believe we failed the Survival Module. Oh wait. I was stuck with you as a partner. Never again.”

   “I second that.”

   “What?”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: fireflyz on December 19, 2010, 04:49:40 AM
Prompt:  Writing Dialogue

Summary:  Evie and Rodger sneak into a newly opened pyramid.  Their steamtorch goes out.  (2000 words)

Title:  The Hysteria of Evie Carlson



“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“It was your idea, Rodger.”

“I know.  But that was in the light of the day.”

“It’s still daylight out.”

“Don’t be stupid, Evie.  “It’s pitch black in here.”

“Fine.  Light the steamtorch.  Better?”

“Sort of.  Does this feel full to you?”

“Hmm, the coals are still hot.  I think the water level is low.  We’ll have to be quick.”

“How far do you reckon it is to the burial chamber, Evie?”

“I don’t know.  Father wasn’t specific.  They only just broke through.  He’s quieter these days.”

“Doesn’t it worry you?”

“What Rodger?”

“Well, it’s just that.  They say you’re just like your mother.  Aren’t you worried that you’ll?  You know…”

“Go crazy?”

“Don’t laugh, Evie.  I’m serious.  I’d be scared to death if I were you.  Thank God only women can have hysteria.”

“Mother told me I would have years before I’d have to worry.  Besides, laudanum helps.  She never believed in it, but Father says it keeps the madness at bay.”

“Can’t you stop it?”

“Not now.  It’s too late.  I extracted my first aether the day she died.  Once the aether enters, the hysteria begins.”

“You extracted her didn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you want to speak with your mother?”

“I.  I reckon.”

“Hold the steamtorch up higher, Rodger.  It’s getting steeper.  We must be close.”

“Why’s it so cold?  I thought it’d be warmer.  I think it’s sapping the coals.”

“I’m not sure.  Look at my arms.  Gooseflesh.  Strange, this far beneath ground the temperatures should be relatively stable.”

“If you say so.  Look, Evie, maybe we should turn around.  This torch won’t last much longer.”

“Don’t be a baby.  We’re the only living things down here.  Besides, I’ve been in a dozen tombs.”

“Yeah, but never alone.  This is different.  Seven souls!  What’s that?”

“I don’t know.  Quit shaking, I can’t see.”

“Oh my God, is that?”

“A skeleton?  Yes.  Male, you can tell by the pelvis.  Probably just past puberty.  The pharaohs often had their bodyguards killed in the passages leading to their burial chambers.  To protect them in the afterlife.”

“Why’s his skull cracked?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe he didn’t want to guard his pharaoh.  Hmm, that’s strange.”

“What, Evie?”

“Well, it’s just that if he was put here to guard his pharaoh, then shouldn’t he be facing up the tunnel?  It almost looks as if he was running downhill.”

“Running?  From what?”

“Want me to ask him?”

“You mean use your hysteria?  I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh give over, Rodger.  I’m not sixteen yet.  Mother almost made it to forty.  If anything these are the years I should be enjoying my…gift.”

“Just the same, I think I’ll pass.  C’mon, the steamtorch is sputtering.  It’ll be rotten luck if we make it to the burial chamber only to have the light go out.”

“It’s good to know there’s something that scares you more than this tomb.  Honestly, how can we be friends if you think I’m crazy?”

“I like you, Evie.  I just don’t trust your hysteria.  It’s not natural.”

“It’s as natural as breathing.  Don’t be sexist.  Alright, alright.  No need to glare.  We’ll go.”

“Thanks.  And I’m not being sexist.  It’s not like this is a safe place.  My uncle said that there are still armed traps they haven’t found.  One of the workers hit one yesterday.”

“Yeah, but it only nicked him.  The poison’s what killed him.  Father said it was something exotic he’s never seen before.”

“Well that’s comforting.  Now all we need is for the torch to go out and this nightmare will be complete.  Dammit!”

“Brilliant, Rodger.  Name the Devil and he appears.  C’mon the water can’t all be used up.  Shake it harder.”

“I am shaking it.  It’s not the water, it’s the blasted coals.  I told you this air was sapping them.  Now what are we going to do?”

“We’ll have to turn around.”

“Thank God.  That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.”

“Ouch!  What’s that?”

“I don’t—Ouch!  It’s a blasted wall.  How did a wall get here?”

“Stop shouting.  We must have gotten turned around when the torch went out.  These tombs are rotten with side passages.”

“Brilliant, we’re lost and no one knows we came down here.  “Got any other news you’d like to share?”

“Don’t be a brick, Rodger.  We’re not lost.  We’re…temporarily misplaced.”

“Yeah, where I’m from that’s called lost.  I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming down here.  Skeletons and traps.  Not to mention the dead pharaoh.”

“Well at least we don’t have to worry about the last.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Hmm?  Oh, Father said the sarcophagus was empty.  Another oddity to this place.”

“Empty?  My God.  You don’t think?  He’s not?”

“A Mummy?  Honestly, Rodger.  For a boarding school educated boy you can be really thick sometimes.  The mummies are a superstition meant to keep grave robbers at bay.  Next you’ll be telling me you believe in the Ageless One.”

“Don’t laugh, Evie.  It’s not funny.  You didn’t see that worker yesterday.  His face was black.  And twisted.  Like even in death he couldn’t stop screaming.  This was a stupid idea before.  Without the torch it’s completely ludicrous.”

“Rodger.  C’mon, I didn’t mean to tease.  Don’t pout.  We’ll get out of here.  I promise.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.  C’mon get up.  There you go.  We’re bound to find another skeleton.  When we do I’ll use my hysteria to extract its aether.  Stop moaning!  It’s the only way.  The aether will tell us the way out.  Watch your step, we’ll have to take this slowly.”

“I can walk on my own, thank you.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.  You’re wrong about the Ageless one, you know.  My uncle reckons that Cain is real.  He’s dead of course, no one lives forever.  But the story had to come from somewhere.”

“You’re probably right.  Mother told me once that she found a copy of the mark God put on his forehead in a tomb in Nepal.”

“No.  You’re blowing in my ear.”

“No, she wouldn’t lie.  Unfortunately she also triggered a trap that brought the place down around their ears.  Father said if they had been a few feet further from the entrance they never would have made it out.”

“Golly, I don’t think I’m cut out for this archaeology lark.  Mother was right.  I should’ve chosen to stay in London and work on photography.  Spirits can’t leave a picture frame.”

“I didn’t know you were a Spiritualist.”

“I’m not.  But there’s money to be made in spirit photography.”

“Will you take my picture?”

“Sure, if we get out of this hole alive.  Say, did the floor just level off?”

“I think it must have.  This darkness has me disoriented.  Hold on, let’s catch our breath.”

“Do you hear that?  It sounds like breathing.”

“You’re letting your imagination run away with you, Rodger.  That’s just a breeze.  Probably from the outside.  Must be what’s keeping it so cool down here.  Musty, too.”

“I still say it sounds like breathing.  Chuckle all you want to, you’re the one who said it was strange.”

“It is strange.  But then again, that’s what makes this tomb so interesting.  Skeletons facing the wrong direction, live traps, empty sarcophagus, the Glyph.”

“Glyph?  What Glyph?”

“Drat, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”

“Well you did.  So tell me.  What Glyph?”
   
“It’s probably nothing.  I found a Glyph on the entrance stone.  Father thinks part of it was weathered away.”

“But you don’t?”

“I’m not sure.  If it wasn’t weathered away then this could be one of the most spectacular finds of the century.”

“Go on with you.”

“Seriously.  The Glyph is another name for Cain.”

“The Ageless One?”

“Oh, don’t fall apart on me again.  Yes, you ninny, the Ageless One.  Father doesn’t believe it.  He’s sure that it’s weathered.”

“But he’s been wrong before.  Just look at what happened with your mother.”

“Shut up!  That wasn’t Father’s fault.  You weren’t there.”

“Neither were you.”

“Rodger.  One more word about the accident and I’ll find my own way out.  You can rot for all I care.”

“Easy, Evie.  I didn’t mean anything.  I.  I’m sorry.”

“Well you still have both your parents, so you can be cheeky.  It’s not so fun when it happens to you.”

“But you extracted her aether.  She’s with you now.”

“If only it worked like that.  Don’t be a fool, Rodger.  She’s gone.”

“I didn’t know.  Look at the bright si—.  Hey!  I just stepped on something.”

“It’s a skeleton.”

“Huzzah!  We’re saved.”

“Maybe not.  This pelvis feels wrong.”

“Wrong?  How can a pelvis feel wrong?”

“It feels wide.  It might be female.”

“Male, female, who cares?  It’s got aether.”

“Rodger, laudanum was discovered less than a century ago.  Any female this old would’ve died insane.  My mother was bad enough.  A five thousand year old, crazy aether infused spirit raging with hysteria?  I’ll pass thank you.”

“Evie.”

“Shh.  Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It sounded like whispering.”

“You’re the one who said it was natural.”

“Yeah, before it was.  This was different.”

“We’re the only living things down here.  You said.”

“Rodger, I can’t see an inch in front of my face.  How do I know what’s out there?  You’d take the word of a hysteric girl?”

“Dammit.  Stop poking fun, Evie.”

“I’m not.  I’m just frustrated.  I know I heard something.”

“You’re scaring me, Evie.”

“Maybe we should be.  Alright, I’ll risk it.  We have to get out of here.  Something’s gone queer in this place.  Hand me the skull.”

“The skull?”

“It should be at your feet.”

“Oh.  It’s smooth.  Should it be that smooth?”

“Just give it to me.  Thanks.  Now, all I need is a tooth.  There we go.”

“I can’t believe it pulled out that easily.”

“If your teeth were five millennia old, they’d probably pull out too.  You ready?”

“As ready as I’m going to be.  Hysteria.  Ah, go on.  We need to get out of here.”

“Alright, here it goes.”

“Did you just put that it in your mouth?  Eww.”

“Rodger.  Shut up.  Gah!”

“Evie?  Evie?  I can’t understand you.  Stop shaking.  Evie!”

“It hurts, it hurts so bad.”

“What does?  Are you alright?”

“He didn’t want to die, Rodger.  Peustuth was born to serve his Pharaoh.  He did serve.  He didn’t deserve this.  They cut him.  It hurts, it hurts so bad.  For nothing.  The king wasn’t dead.  Why kill Peustuth?  Why?  The sacrifice shouldn’t have been performed!  Peustuth served!”

“Evie, lower your voice!  Something’s out there.  Shh, can’t you hear it?”

“Peustuth knew the way out.  It was his duty to know every entrance and exit.  The Death Guard.  But the king never came.”

“You know the way out?  Brilliant, let’s go.  Evie?  C’mon, let’s go.”

“Then he came.  The mark was so bright.  So bright.  And then the killing began.  They cut Peustuth.  It hurts, it hurts so bad.”

“What?  What are you talking about?  C’mon Evie, I’m telling you something’s out there.  I don’t care if you think I’m a coward, but we need to get out of here.”

“He’s coming.  And the Lord said to him, ‘Very well, if anyone kills Cain, he will suffer vengeance seven times over.’  Then the Lord put a mark upon Cain.”

“Evie, you’re scaring me.  It’s not funny anymore.  Use the aether and get us out of here.”

“I’m sorry, Rodger.  It hurts, it hurts so bad.”

“I know it hurts, but the whispers are growing louder.  I think there’s more than one.  We need to go, Evie.  Take my hand.”

“He’s coming.”

“That’s what I’m saying.  Now take my hand and let’s get the hell out of here.”

“It’s too late, Rodger.”

“What’s that?  Who’s there?  Oh God, someone’s in here, Evie.  Someone’s in here.”

“Tell them Peustuth was faithful.”

“Who are you?”

“He served his king.”

“Answer me, damn you.”

“Until the Ageless One came.”

“Evie?  Evie?  Ouch!  Let go!”

“They cut him.”

“Evie, it’s got me!”

“It hurts, it hurts so bad.”

“Why are you doing this?  Please, stop!  Oh God, no.  No!”

“He’s here.  The mark is so bright.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: MirandaBlaineMann on December 19, 2010, 05:37:24 PM
Accepted
By Miranda Mann

“Helen.”

“Error.”

“Renee.”

“Denied.”

“Ruth.”

“Accepted. Please continue.”

“Lily.”

“No.”

“Alsie.”

“Another error.”

“Delara.”

“Accepted. Please continue.”

“Really? Why would it accept Delara but reject Lily?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“But I don’t like Delara.”

“Then you really shouldn’t have said it. Please continue. Boys next.”

“Do you think…do you think I could see them?”

“I hardly see a point in that.”

“Curiosity, I guess.”

“There’s not much to see. We’re on this stack, fifth petri dish down.”

“How many cells are they?”

“Each is only 128 cells. We insert the identification DNA now so it will replicate throughout the body. This way no
one can impersonate a Free Person.”

“Right.”

“Please continue.”

“Derek.”

“Denied.”

“Gavin.”

“No.”

“Sean.”

“Accepted. Please continue.”

“I don’t know why I even need to be here. Can’t the algorithm just pick a name for me? It rejects all the names I like
anyway.”

“Pick for you? What kind of mother’s touch would that be? Besides, it violates your rights.”

“Does it? Then why can’t I have any name I like?”

“That really isn’t up to me. I think it has to do with other blastulas being named at the same time. Please continue.”

“Rishab.”

“Accepted. Please continue.”

“Hmmm. Rishab. I assumed it would reject that one. I need to be more careful.”

“As I said before.”

“I sometimes feel like this isn’t…natural.”

“That’s an acceptable feeling. But we can’t have the algorithm choosing for you. Please continue.”

“No, I mean this whole thing. I heard women used to grow one child at a time. I heard it was magical.”

“False. Women were once constrained to producing between one and eight offspring at a time, but it was never magical. The children often died, and the mother as well. Why run such a risk for a minimal payoff?”

“But I heard you could feel the baby moving. Inside you.”

“Much like a parasite. I guess there truly is a difference between Breeders and the rest of us. Now please continue.”

“Aston.”

“Accepted. Please continue.”

“Hmph. First try that time.”

“Please continue.”

“Josh.”

“Negative.”

“Sam.”

“Wrong.”

“Samuel.”


“Accepted. Please continue.”

“What about hair, eye and skin color? Do I get to choose those?”


“That is for the parents to decide. Don’t get greedy. Naming is within your rights. Please continue.”

“I heard that women used to be beautiful when they were growing their babies. That they used to glow.”

“Like radio-active waste? Women used to gain between ten and seventy pounds for only one offspring! They used to throw up and bleed and spend months in pain. You are lucky things aren’t that way anymore. And then you would have to find a way to take care of the thing yourself, which we all know is impossible for someone like you. Now will you please focus? And continue.”   

“Nathan.”

“Error.”

“Naman.”

“No.”

“Navan.”


“Denied. Stop making things up.”

“Naban.”

“Accepted. Hmmm.”

“Please continue?”

“Yes.”

“Could I ever hold them?”


“What?”

“When they come out of the final jars. Could I ever hold them? Just a little?”

“That is quite enough. Talking about glowing and growing them yourself is one thing. But the Free People aren’t going to stand for a Breeder holding their children. Now, I’m a tolerant woman, and you are lucky. But I suggest you never let anyone hear you talk like that again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now please continue.”

“Henry.”

“Accepted. That’s a good one.”

“Yeah, I guess.”


Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Lyannadance on December 19, 2010, 05:39:14 PM
I hope this is the right place to post this.  I completed a short story for the writing exercise of "Dialogue".  Since I can't link it from the file on my computer, I have posted it in its entirety here.
Colleen


MASK OF FATES
By: Colleen Jess

“I don’t think you understand the consequences of what you’re about to do.”
   “So what?  So Merrilyn dies and we’re short a pair of hands.  We can make do.”
   “My God you’re arrogant!  How long did you really think this would last?  I can only help you so much!”
   “Look, I’ve tolerated your speeches through all of this, but it’s been my vision from the beginning.  If you’d left two months ago like you wanted to I could have done all of this myself anyway.”
   “It’s not about the realm of possibility, Cannos.  I had no doubt you would do this on your own, but I stuck around to make sure you didn’t destroy this kingdom while you did it.”
   “Well I never knew you thought me so capable.”
   “Don’t be a fool.  You’re about to change the future of this kingdom and all you care about is your precious Mask.  You’re risking far too much for the sake of a reputation.”
   “And what exactly would you know about reputation?  You’ve never achieved a Mask, you have no idea what it means to use it, especially in this way.  I’m setting an example, securing my place here and cleaning up your messes.  If you want to turn all noble and go save the girl, then by all means, go!  The only thing that will change is the timing.”
   “Sure.  What are a couple more hours to you if it means you could kill me too?  I don’t want to try to thwart you, I know what that will get me.  I want you to see the big picture and change your own damn mind.”
   “Ah yes.  The big picture of a stagnant leader left on the throne until his teeth all fall out while no one has the guts to push him aside and bring this kingdom back to power.  I can see how you’d prefer that scenario as opposed to mine.”
   “No!  The scenario you’re attempting will disgrace us forever!  You think that pushing aside our father to make room for your ascent to the throne is a step forward?  Have you even considered the reaction of the people?  You’ll cause a civil war!”
   “Now you’re just being melodramatic.  The disgrace will be on our father, not me and most certainly not you.  The people will see him give the order for Merrilyn’s death, effectively ending his rule, and I step in to my rightful place on the throne.”
   “A Mask was never meant to be used in this way.  Once you use it for selfish reasons you’re doomed and you know that.”
   “Like I said, you have no idea what it means to use a Mask.”
   “Maybe I can see it more clearly than you because I don’t have one.  I see what using it does to you.  I know that it weakens you.”
   “I am not weak!”
   “I’m not arguing that.  But if you’re afraid of a kingdom without power then think about what kind of a kingdom this would be being led by a crippled magician.  You know that’s where you’re headed.”
   “That’s what you want me to believe!  Never in the history of our people has anyone ever been known to be cursed by their Mask!”
   “And if you thought about this a little harder you’d realize that’s because no one has ever been so foolish as to use it to gain a kingdom!  Masks are instruments of goodwill!  The fact that I even know you have yours is a violation of their purpose!  How you ever managed to earn yours is beyond me!”
   “Well maybe our fates got twisted.  You’ve always been more of a do-gooder doormat than me.  Maybe I was chosen because I showed promise.  I proved that I wasn’t afraid to harness the Mask’s power and make a real difference.”
   “Yeah, and how that makes you a golden child I’ll never know.  What power was granted you when you got your Mask is going to consume you.  You can’t harness its power anymore than you can keep a wife.”
   “Merrilyn has earned her place on the chopping block!  She chose to die when she chose you over me!  You should just be glad I’m not sending you to the worms with her!”
   “Do you even know why I chose to stand by you all this time?  Why I didn’t just leave and get both myself and Merrilyn out of your reach?”
   “Because you’re weak.  The same reason you’ve never gotten your Mask.”
   “Because father asked me to stay.  Because I have honor.  And because my fate can change yours.”
   “Father…?”
   “You didn’t think he was oblivious to your plans did you?  You can’t fool a fellow Mask bearer so easily.”
   “Father has no Mask!”
   “Father has more secrets from you than you realize.  Like the fact that his throne is already promised.  You want to hear about the kind of disgrace you’d inflict on us?  You’d be killing the woman who carries the heir to the throne.”
   “You lie.”
   “Think about it.  She left you two months ago.  You found her in my embrace while she cried on my shoulder.  Your arrogance told you that she’d fled you in favor of me.  Did you even ask her why she cried?”
   “She refused to talk to me.  She never talked to me.”
   “She was terrified.  She had already lost two babies of yours.  She was afraid of losing a third along with any chance of giving you your heir.  The contract between her kingdom and ours depends on the birth of an heir.”
   “An heir…”
   “If you stand up there today wearing the face of our father and order her death it will mean war.  That’s the big picture.”
   “Merrilyn…”
   “You can still go to her, fix this.  Release her from her worry and be with your wife.  Please.”
   “…”
   “Please Cannos.  Merrilyn needs you.”
“I… I can’t go to her like this.  I can’t admit what I had planned.  I can’t hurt her again.”
   “You don’t have to.  Just change your damn mind.”
   “How?  How do I make this right?”
   “Let go of your judgments.  Don’t punish people for things you only accused them of doing.  Release your grip on hate.”
   “Then I release my Mask.”
   “No, use it.  But use it for what it was meant for.”
   “The only good deed I can think about doing doesn’t need a Mask to accomplish it.  The Mask is the only expendable thing I have left it seems.  The throne is our father’s, and the kingdom will have the greatest ruler possible just as soon as Merrilyn brings him into this world.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Gareth Lewis on December 19, 2010, 06:22:11 PM
Prompt: Brandon's Dialogue Challenge

Shadow Lantern


"It's enchanted."

"And therefore valuable."

"There's enchanted, and then there's cursed.  The difference can be expensive."

"And which do you think it is, Gerrick?"

"Which do you think it is?"

"Why enchanted, of course.  Can't your little device tell you what it does?"

"If it could, don't you think I'd have said?"

"Not if you wanted to know if I know what it does."

"And do you, Yallin?"

"I might."

"No you don't."

"No I don't.  And your device isn't telling you, either?"

"I'm not using it fully until I know more about the lantern.  It has a strong enchantment, but considering what happened last time you brought something like this in, I'm sure you'll forgive my caution.  And understand my impulse t just have your throat slit and call it my own."

"Now that's not hospitable of you.  And since you don't usually take this long to make decisions I doubt you'll be doing that.  Probably."

"We'll see.  How did you come by it?"

"It's an inheritance from a sweet old uncle, lived over near the eastern dwimmerstone mine.  He suffered an unfortunate accident involving a Sister of the Eternal Yearning, a triple humped melon-cow, and a..."

"If you're not going to give a serious answer, my decision on what to do with you may come sooner than you'd like."

"Gerrick, considering your profession, and my profession, how do you think I acquired it?"

"Then I'll rephrase.  Where did it come from?"

"The old warehouse formerly used by the dwimmercraft school.  They had a section for old artefacts.  They recently had to move out due to the cumulative effects the gathered energies had on the structure.  Stuff was transported to some new sites.  Heavily guarded, of course, and we were vigilant in making sure nobody else stole any of it."

"So how likely is it to be missed?"

"The paperwork may have gotten a bit confused as to where it ended up, and its container still holds an old lantern as listed in the manifest.  But since it hadn't been touched in a century or two, I doubt you need to worry about someone coming looking anytime soon."

"Good.  So did the manifest give any clue as to what it does?"

"Might have.  If you read high Sumerrial."

"So we're back to the problem of not knowing what it does."

"You can't use your device to prod it a bit further?"

"I'm not touching it without knowing what it does.  Y'know how dangerous these things can be.  Had a... colleague, who acquired a similar item, spent a lot of time trying to work out what it did, convinced it was valuable.  One morning they came into his room and found what was left of him in a puddle.  He fit in a jar.  A small jar."

"I'm sure you'd be far more cautious..."

"I'm not finished.  His wife kept the jar on her mantelpiece.  But one day her drunken brother visited, looking to borrow some money to maintain that state.  He spied the bottle, and... well lets just say I don't want to end up pissed into some gutter by a drunkard."

"So I guess you're not going to light it and see what happens?"

"Do I look stupid?"

"How do you want me to answer that?"

"Carefully.  You know my lads are just outside."

"So why don't you ask them to bring us some drinks from the bar?"

"I'm not thirsty.  But I am tired.  It's been a long day, so let's get down to it.  Why are you here?"

"Trying to sell this."

"There'e other places to sell it.  Buyers with less history.  It's been a few years since you disappeared following our previous... transaction.  Then you turn up here, same insolent smirk, and yer hair dyed to look younger."

"You have access to a number of specialists who can find out what it does."

"Some of my competitors would buy it without knowing what it does, and bargain with less vigor than you'd expect from me, so that's not it.  What's the real reason?"

"I'm back in the city, figured I'd need to make sure there's no hard feelings."

"And do you think there are?"

"Hey, accidents happen.  But you're a businessman, and the stuff you seized should've paid for your inconvenience."

"And yer friend?  Are there hard feelings over what happened to him?"

"Occupational hazard.  Besides, what am I going to do?  Since you met me in private, not knowing if I'm holding a grudge, I have to assume you're wearing enough charms to protect yourself from anything I could try."

"Doesn't mean you're not trying to cheat me.  In fact, given our history I could just call the watch in, claim the lantern's mine.  You want those inhuman bastards getting hold of ye?"

"Now come on, there's no call for threats.  Especially since you don't want to invite the watch into your business any more than I do, if only cause of the smell."

"Well then, I suppose I'll just have to call me lads in.  They lack the creativity to make it an interestin' threat, though."
"Creative underlings are the last thing you'd want."

"But fer brutal violence, they do the job."

"Brutal violence is the last thing I want."

"An' what I want's to finish here.  I'm tired, an' my eyes are goin'.  Everythin's turnin' green, so give me one good reason I shouldn't..."

"Oh, it's not your eyes.  In fact, if you'd glance at the wall behind you..."

"An' turn my back on ye?"

"Gerrick, Gerrick, Gerrick.  I thought you were protected from anything I could possibly do?  I give my word, for what little it's worth, to make no move against you.  Go on, you know you want to look."

"So th' wall's lit up a garish green.  So wha'?"

"And what's missing?"

"Missing?  Yer bloody corpse if ye don't stop...  My shadow?  It's barely there.  What...?  How...?"

"I knew you'd spot it eventually.  Of course I thought you'd realise your lamp had gone out first."

"How...?   Whe'...?"

"Where's the light coming from?  The lantern, of course.  I lit it before coming here."

"But it's..."

"An invisible flame?  Yes.  And it's the flame which is stealing your shadow, your vitality, your ability to form a coherent sentence."

"Ah'm..."

"Weak?  Lifeless?  Yes.  But on the bright side, I feel energized."

"Why?"

"As you said, he was my friend.  So, let's discuss reparations for the goods you seized..."

Title: Re: Writing Prompts! Dialogue Prompt
Post by: Rew on December 19, 2010, 07:52:55 PM
Title: @the water cooler

Excuse me, can I get a drink?

Oh, oops, sorry.  You new here?  I’m Orin.

Denton Arthur.

Wait, what?  Are you serious?  No way.  Ha. 

Huh?

Nothing, I’m just trying to estimate how many towels your gonna get at the company Christmas party…

Ummmm…yeah….still confused.

Don’t worry about it.  You’ll catch up.  So, how long you been here and what do you do for us, Dentarthurdent?

Um, I’m a linguist, started yesterday.  Doing some translation work, but man, I gotta say I feel like I’m drowning already…

What!?  Oh, man that’s rich.  They got Denton Arthur to work on the Babel Fish project!  No way.  Superman has really outdone himself this time. Wow!

Superman?  What?

Oh, sorry, Charles Kent in HR- you know, C. Kent? Clark Kent? Yeah, beyond that he does the work of like five guys around here, in on all sorts of projects. He’s a real Superman. Wicked sense of humor and irony too.

Oh, I get it. 

I thought that there was no way that he would outdo hiring Jordo Harold to work on the green diode emitters.   Anyway, I just moved from the deep-sea lab Atlantis, and now I’m working in the Physics Development department working with plasma.  People shift around quite a bit here, you could say it’s a pretty ‘fluid’ working environment….get it? Fluid? Plasma? 

Yeah, I got it.

Anyway, this place is great.  I came out here right out of school, and man, I learned more in six months than I did in all my years of graduate work.  And I’m not just talking work experience, earning a living type of knowledge.  I’m talking “We’re gonna need a bigger boat!” type stuff.   The best advice I can give you is to stay swimming on the surface until you can hold your own, ‘cause there’s some scary stuff floating around down in the lower currents.

I think I’m noticing that.  I worked some uber-top secret NSA stuff before this, and this place blows them out of the water for secrecy. And I have no idea what some of this stuff means in English, how am I s’posed to translate it?

Yeah, I remember starting out- sometimes it was enough to make me wish I’d taken the bluepill. 

Ah, I know that one- “The Matrix” right?

See, you’re getting’ it.

So, um, I’ve been wanting to ask this, but things were so closemouthed when I interviewed- what does this place do anyway? You’ve mentioned all these different projects; my own workload seems completely random.  It’s like I’m translating for a robotics company, a glass manufacturer, a physicist convention, and a comic book store all rolled into one.

Oh, you just wait ‘til October rolls around again with Dress-up Fridays, it’s like  freakin’ ComiCon in here.  But, yeah, this place has a lot of crazy stuff goin’ on.  In some ways, the Boss seems to want a deliberate Bruce Wayne-meets-Isaac Asimov type feel to the work.

Yeah, you lost me again…

Well, a lot of the stuff we do ends up working to catch bad guys.  Surveillance and Armor Tech does a lot of military and police contracts.  But then there’s the Miniaturization Department, and the Trade Nuclear Technology  Systems.  We keep joking that their gonna blow themselves up…TNT Systems and all…

Hmmm…do I really want to be working for a company like this? 

Oh, don’t worry. It’s all completely safe. The place you should really be wary of is the Chaos Department.  I haven’t even wanted to get my feet wet in that place.  You ever see “The Abyss”?

No. 

Yeah, you’ll probably want to start a list of books and movies to see.  It’s almost a necessity to understanding this place.  The unwritten motto is: “Bringing Sci Fi to Life.”  It’s not technically a company.  For tax purposes or something, it was established as a foundation, perpetually endowed.  Do yourself a favor and kick Asimov’s Foundation Series to the top of that reading list.   It will give you some flavor for what this place is about.  Some people around here think that Asimov himself started this place.  Personally, I think the Boss just has a penchant for keeping the Sci Fi theme. 

Wow, that’s gotta be a rich endowment to afford what their paying me. 

Yeah, they do pretty well here.  It’s kinda odd though, because some things get patented and sold, but other things we develop don’t ever leave the compound, aren’t showed to anyone, and just seem to see the dusty side of a shelf as far as most of us can tell.  And those are some of the neatest toys we make. 

That seems weird. 

Yeah, tell me about it.  The weirdest part is that sometimes, people around here recognize the stuff they’ve developed out in the real world, but they know it hasn’t been sold to anyone. For instance, John who works with me now in plasma stuff- you remember last year that ferry that sank in the Red Sea with like 500 people on board?

Oh, yeah the one in the middle of the storm that sank completely before anyone could get out?

Yup, they showed some footage on the news and John says he recognized the burn and weld pattern of the cuts in the hull they had to make to get everyone out.  It was very distinctive to the Lucas project he worked on.

What, you mean, like Star Wars and Lightsabers and junk? 

The guy who headed the project is named Lucas. But weird coincidence, no?

Yeah, seems fishy.  You sure this isn’t some sort of development plant to equip all the Justice League or something?  I mean, you don’t have Wonder Woman’s invisible jet around here do, you?

Ha! If we did and I knew about it, I’d demand a ride instead of a Christmas bonus. But who really knows?  It’s all so hush hush.  You know you can’t talk about any of this outside right? Can’t even mention this place exists. It’s in the contract and they actually have some tech to enforce it.  Mind wipes or something.

Yeah, wondered about that, but they're probably just overly worried about industrial espionage or something. I mean, c'mon, how do you not talk about what you do with people?

Pretty much I’ve resorted to devolving into advanced physics jargon when anyone asks me what I do.  Usually they just go glaze-eyed and move the conversation somewhere else.

Yeah, no idea what I’m gonna say.  How do you cope with the “mum’s the word”?

The only thing I’ve thought of is gabbing about what goes on with coworkers at the water cooler.  Anyway, good luck, Dentarthurdent.

Ok, um, thanks.  We’ll see ya around.


--REW
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: firstRainbowRose on December 19, 2010, 09:32:55 PM
        "What do you mean you can't?"
        "I mean exactly what I said.  When I tried to draw the circle the chalk would just fade from the ground!"
        "I've never heard of that happening before.  Have you checked your guidebook for anything?"
        "Nothing.  I checked there first.  The only thing that came close is sacred ground."
        "Hm."
        "But in those cases the chalk doesn't even stick."
        "Was it your skirt maybe whipping the chalk behind you?"
        "It looks different when that's the case.  There's at least a bit of the chalk left.  Plus I watched it disappear.  It was... well, it's hard to explain.  Here, watch."
        "Huh.  I haven't ever seen that before.  And you're sure that the book didn't have anything about it?"
        "Nothing."
        "I wish I hadn't left mine back at the castle.  'Leave it,' the prince said.  'We're only scouting the old ruins in the forrest.  Don't worry so much.'  Now he's knocked out, our horses are gone, and no way to get back."
        "He couldn't have known about this."
        "Doesn't matter.  I should always plan for anything to happen."
        "If I held my book open could you read it?  THen it's still me using the book, so it might get around the imprinting."
       "Maybe.  It's worth a try."
        "Anything?"
        "Nope.  The pages are blank."
        "Sworvek!"
        "Watch your mouth!"
        "Sorry sir.  I'm just frustrated."
        "I know bout we'll figure it out.  And there's nothing about fading?"
       "Nothing."
        "Hm.  Read me what it says about sacred ground?"
       " 'All spells cast within sacred ground will not work due to the agreement made with the Almighty.  All spoken spells are unable to collect the nessary power.  Ink or chalk used to do a written spell within the dedicated ground are unable to stick to the material it is written on.  IN most cases it just appears to not write.  When-' "
        "Wait!  'In most cases'... I think my book explained that better.  I wish I could remember.  Ugh!"
        "Do you think these ruins could be something sacred?"
        "It's possable but -- no, wait.  Have you tried any verbals?"
        "I don't think so.  Should I?"
       "Um... yes.  Try just a light ball for me."
       "Til emot moec."
        "Perfect.  I felt a small build up, but it felt like there was something blocking it.  Try again at the edge of the ruins.
        "Anything?"
        "It felt a bit stronger, but still nothing.  You look like you might know what's going on.
        "I might.  Try one more time, but this time go out into the forrest until you can't see the ruins anymore before you try."
        "Alright. . ."
        "I don't suppose your highness would like to wake up while she's gone?  It'd make things easier on me."
        "SIR!  Sir, it worked!"
        "Good.  Good.  Now to take care of his highness."
        "Sir?  What's going on?"
        "I'm not sure, but I think this might have been a chruch, but it was dedicated well before the alliance.  So the block is in place but it doesn't react the exact same as a church established after.  THat's why the spells react differently.  So we should be able to cast the spell to get back once we leave the area of the church.  Here, you take his legs."
        "Ugh, he's heavy!"
        "Don't worry.  It should only be a few more steps.  Then we can set him down."
        "Okay.  Now what?"
        "Try drawing the circle.  I'll do the rest of the preprations.  Barring any unforseen problems we should be back to the castle in a few minutes.  From there we'll let the king know what happened.
        "When we get back I just want you to get a servant to help his highness, then go back to your room.  I don't want you get involved."
        "But-"
        "No.  I won't allow it.  Now, are you done?"
        "Just finished."
        "And it's not fading out.  Great!  Let's get started on the main spell."
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Roberts on December 19, 2010, 10:19:56 PM
This might not be following the guidelines, since there's three people (only two talk at a time) and it's a comic script rather than prose.


"When's dad coming home?"

"I dunno!"

"I'm bored."

"Will you play with me?"

"No."

"Will you play with me?"

"No"

"Will
you
play a game with me?"

"I want to play with dad. You just want to play kids games."

"You're only three years older than me!"

"Three and a half!"

"Oh yeah?
Well…
I am a wizard!"

"(Sigh) How many times do I have to tell yous? Fairies, elves and monsters don't exist, and wizards don't rule the world. It's generals and athletes and architects who-

"And this is my magic leaf pile!
Do you want to take a jump in the pile?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Dad says there's no such thing as magic."

"Why that's the most saddest thing I've ever heard, and I'm only nine!
(raised eyebrow)
Regardingless, I say that I'm a wizard.
Normally I'd charge one purply-red leaf for each trip into the pile, but since this is your first trip, I'll let you jump for free."

"(Oh yes, you sure are a shrewd businessman.)
It's just a bunch of leaves. That's not a magic pile."

"Well
maybe
you'll
never
find
out." (he crouches in the pile, out of sight)

...

"I'm bored.
(car engine vroom)
Dad's home!"

"Hi dad!"

"Hey son. Where's your brother?"

"He's playing over there.
I want to play catch!"

"That's a great idea! You could play catch with your brother. "

"What?"

"I have a lot of work to do tonight. See you at dinner!"

...

"I'm bor-
I'm cold.
Maybe I don't want to find out if it's magic!
Maybe I don't care!
(he steps in it)
Because it's not."

"You have to jump into it, Mr. Athlete!
Mr. Athletect!
Major General No-Fun!"

"You want to see a jump?
I'll show you a jump!"

(He takes a running jump into the leaf pile, falls a great distance, gets up and looks up at the sky)
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: davjonz on December 19, 2010, 10:39:50 PM
Here's my attempt at the dialogue challenge.  You can also find it at my blog: http://wp.me/NXsO


MISSION TO EARTH
BY
David Alan Jones

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. President.”

“The pleasure is mine, Pastor Phelps. Won’t you have a seat?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Forgive me for staring. You look so human.”

“I am human, Mr. President.”

“Even…underneath?”

“Meat all the way through, sir. Like any other man.”

“But I thought –“

“Mr. President, I was born in Atlanta. My parents are both from North Carolina. They’re parents came from material gathered in the early surveys — all human.”

“Abductees.”

“Test subjects. We put them back.”

“Minus some eggs and sperm.”

“Necessary. My progenitors are methane breathers after all.”

“Is that your strategy: victory through familiarity? Conquer us by becoming us?”

“I think we’ve made it clear we aren’t here to conquer you, Mr. President.”

“Try to see it from my perspective, Phelps. Until yesterday aliens stood in the same category as Sasquatch and the Loch Ness monster: plausible, fun to debate, but abstract.”

“And today?”

“Today the stock market crashed.”

“Regretful, but probably unavoidable in the near term. Either we revealed our presence, or we remained invisible. It couldn’t be done by half measures.”

“Why the subterfuge? Why live among us for so long?”

“We’re missionaries, Mr. President. We can’t tend the flock if we don’t walk amongst the flock.”

“And we’re your flock?”

“All things, living and inert, belong to the All-Point.”

“Ah, your message. I hope you’re not too disappointed; I’ve already had a sneak preview. The British PM and I had an interesting chat not half an hour ago.”

“Oh?”

“He said your counterpart there frightened him worse than  terrorist nukes in London.”

“Why? We haven’t come to frighten man. We’ve come to enlighten him.”

“With your ‘gospel according to the stars’? He says this All-Church of yours will be the end of nationalism.”

“I assure you we have no political aspirations, sir.”

“Maybe not, but you make joining your church enticing don’t you? Extended life, cures to otherwise mortal diseases, the chance to travel the stars.”

“You two did have a long talk.”

“He’s concerned that you plan to exclude non-members from these gifts.”

“Some things are sacred, Mr. President.”

“So it’s true. You’ll let the sick die because they refuse to join your church?”

“Children are starving the world over. You have the power to feed them, but they aren’t Americans, so you don’t.”

“I thought you said you don’t play at politics.”

“I won’t apologize for my religion, Mr. President. We may not share all the benefits of membership with non-members, but I assure you the church shall benefit this world.”

“While coercing its people into joining you?”

“Joining the Church of the All-Point doesn’t change one’s citizenship.”

“But what happens when every human on this planet has joined your church? What happens when the American people begin to trust the church more than their own government? That is what he fears — what we all fear.”

“May I still deliver my message, Mr. President? You’ve only heard it secondhand. If there’s one truth between our Earth religions and the Plan of the All-Point, it’s this: you don’t ask the bus driver what it’s like to fly an F-16. You ask the fighter pilot.”

“I’ll hear your message, but let me ask you one question first.”

“Anything, Mr. President.”

“My advisors say you’ve been a Baptist minister for over thirty-three years.”

“At Abilene Full-Gospel Baptist in Macon, yes sir.”

“How do you square preaching Christianity for all those years while secretly practicing a faith so antichristian?”

“The Plan is not antichristian or anti-Muslim, or anti-anything. Even your scientists proved the All-Point’s existence with no prodding from us.”

“Then tell me of this All-Point, Pastor Phelps. Tell me why it’s so important that you’ve turned every nation on earth upside down to preach it.”

“In the beginning, in all the beginnings that ever were, there was the All-Point: that infinitesimal dot, containing within its vastness all time, space, matter and energy. It was, is, and will be a sentient being. During infinite cycles of birth and reunification, the All-Point has explored the meaning of existence. It has given up self, sacrificing its Oneness, over and over again in order to create this universe.”

“In the Big Bang?”

“Yes.”

“But if this All-Point is conscious as you say, then doesn’t it die every time it begins the cycle anew?”

“Yes, and no. Its self is spread out with all that is our reality, so in a way it has not died, but rather expanded so that it can no longer reach full consciousness though it is aware on a level we cannot readily comprehend.”

“And at the end of every cycle it reforms — reunites?”

“Yes.”

“Then why the religion, Pastor?”

“Pardon me?”

“Why should we care? If we belong to this All-Point — are destined to return to it one day no matter what we do in this life — then why bother worshipping it at all?”

“Entropy.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Entropy, sir. The law which states all things in this universe are winding down like clockwork.”

“I know the principle. We’ve seen it. The universe is expanding faster than we ever imagined; too fast for it to ever …for it to ever recreate the All-Point. No Big Crunch. No return to the dot.”

“No Big Crunch and the heat death of the universe.”

“A fascinating concept.”

“Forgive me, but I had expected you to require more explanation on the science.”

“The wife and I read sci-fi. It’s a guilty pleasure.”

“But obviously an instructive one.”

“Still, I fail to see how joining this All-Church will solve the problem. Do you think faith can overcome inertia? Surely you don’t believe prayers will slow stars.”

“In our church we have prophets — seers and revelators — who post-tell the infinite past.”

“Post-tell?”

“The future is impossible to know. The past, however, is set, and can be read like a book for those with that gift.”

“Your prophets can follow the life cycle of an entire universe? That’s extraordinary.”

“No, sir. They see only the changing of the cycles. I’m told it’s really quite boring.”

“So every cycle is pretty much the same as all the others?”

“Yes, until now.”

“What’s changed?”

“Us, Mr. President.  Ours is the first epoch during which life has evolved.”

“Wait. Are you saying that by creating life the All-Point has somehow destroyed itself? Committed suicide to birth its greatest creations?”

“The opposite, we believe. For whatever reason, in this current incarnation of the universe, something has gone awry. The All-Point has already passed the point of reunification by any natural means. For that reason it has, through our evolution — the evolution of all sentient beings — revived its consciousness so that it might fight for survival.”
“Fight how?”

“That, Mr. President, is what we must learn together.”



The End
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: CNHolmberg on December 20, 2010, 01:29:27 AM
First time posting, first time on the forum. Figured I needed to practice. :)

-


“I’ll play you for Earth.”

“Really? Are we doing this again?”

“What do you mean again? You don’t always win.”

“Is that why I own more worlds than you?”

“You don’t own more.”

“I have two hundred thirty-five. Last I counted, you had seven.”

“Do you want to play for Earth or not?”

“I don’t know. What are you offering?”

“Hasbrug III.”

“That’s really more of a moon than a planet.”

“But chock full of uranium. Don’t play coy, you wanted to play me for Hasbrug III just last cycle.”

“That was before I won Earth.”

“Hasbrug III or nothing.”

“I’m happy not playing, friend.”

“Fine. Hasbrug III and Kwot.”

“A gas planet? Are you serious?”

“Since when did you have anything against gas planets?”

“I don’t know. They’re hardly substantial.”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. Reset the board. Your move.”

“Finally. How is it in the Milky Way? Haven’t been for a while.”

“Meh.”

“Meh?”

“It’s a little dull. Not much excitement outside of Earth and Betelgeuse.”

“Good movie.”

“I meant Alpha Orionis.”

“Oh.”

“Hear it’s blowing soon. Your move again.”

“About time. And I’ll be watching it from my ocean-side seat on Earth.”

“Please! You’d crush the thing.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Just that it would be a waste. Intelligent life and all.”

“I’d hardly call them intelligent.”

“Oh? Then why do you want it so bad?”

“Because—Hey, you can’t do that!”

“What? It’s a legal move.”

“No it’s not; the queen can’t jump.”

“The queen can do anything.”

“Anything except jump.”

“Of course she can jump. You can’t win if the queen can’t jump.

“You’re cheating!”

“Fine. There.”

“And how is that legal?”

“Because I didn’t jump.”

“But you can’t capture two pieces at once!”

“Are you playing or not?

“Fine.”

“You can’t do that.

“The queen can do anything.”

“Not circumvent the entire board.”

“Your rules, Deus. I stayed in the squares. Checkmate.”

“I’m tempted to oblige you out of pity.”

“I win either way. This game isn’t as bad as I thought.”

“Hmm.”

“Where did you find it, again?”

“Hell if I know.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: amurderofcrows on December 20, 2010, 04:27:40 AM
And my first post as well:

This is, "The Super."

"Hey, you the super?"

"The building has no super. I'm the handyman."

"But you're Gamble, right?"

"Yes, I'm Gamble."

"Oh, good. Thought I'd gone to the wrong building, man. Don't scare a brass like that! Wrong building, wrong check in with my case worker, and I'm back at the department faster then you can say 'dismantle'. Here — Ms. Golightly said to give this to you."

"So Golightly was your case worker?"

"Yeah, man. She said that this was a good buliding, that it had good people. I wouldn't go wrong with this building."

"And that I was the super."

"She didn't say it like that, but she said you were the man to talk to. Didn't say you were a red man, though."

"It probably wasn't pertinient to the discussion at hand."

"Uh. Whatever you say, chief. Anyway, Golightly said you were the man to talk to for the building. I need some space for downcycle, and to be when I ain't working."

"You got a job assignment yet?"

"Nope; not a lot a call for librarian-recorders in Brasstown. But she's gonna send me any openings I might be good for. I got good digits, so many I'll get some factory work, assembly line gigs. So don't you worry, I'm gonna have somethin'."

"Doesn't matter to me. You don't pay rent to me — this is state-assisted living."

"Or what passes for it, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Anybody ever told you you got a — kinda flat way about you? Don't laugh much, ain't cracked a smile. You do smile, right? Red Men smile? I can't say I ever met one of you before."

"Few people can. I prefer 'golem' to 'red man'."

"Oh— Sorry."

"Speaking of, you've given me a letter and your model. What are you called, and how do you identify?"

"Man, you know your stuff! I'm called Talkback, and I guess male. They treat me like a male."

"It's the vox. You've got a male-leaning vox. When you can't go by a visual cue, humans will go by sound, especially manner of speech."

"Huh. You know a lot of them? Are there any in the building? Other brass told me, that some humans live in Brasstown. That true?"

"That's true. There are three in the building. You'll meet them if you stay long enough. That leads me to the rules. Building has a curfew; there's a human child. You may not sleep, but he does. No loud noises after ten p.m. I don't care what you do outside the building, but I do care what you bring in. We play by the rules in my building — no chems, no shriektalk, no illegal mods. You want that, you find a new building."

"Shriektalk ain't illegal."

"'round here it's not good for business. You want to shriektalk outside, I can point you to two shriekeasies within walking distance, no problem. But you start playing with the wiring here, and we end up with problems. Problems that bring the department."

"I get you."

"Good. Like I said — I don't care what you do outside the building. Inside, that's another story."

"So we got three meats. Any other brass? Or- golems?"

"I'm the only golem in Brasstown at this time, as far as I'm aware. In the building, there are some other brass; you can meet and greet on your own time. The humans are a small family with a young child, and a single female. Neither will cause you and trouble, and none of them have any connection to the department— or the Hammer, so don't worry about that."

"You got a datareader hidden in here or something? 'cause you sure seem to know a lot about — things."

"I could also have just read that letter you gave me."

"Golightly give you my Rampancy docs, or what?"

"Not so much. Listen, it doesn't matter who gives me what. Just know that I run a tight building. You'll be safe and sound here if you follow the rules. You don't, you'll be binned so fast your screws will shake loose. Got it?"

"Got it. So — what do I call you, and how do you identify, 'Gamble'?"

"Gamble is fine. Male is what humans default to with me, so it's good enough."

"Right. So — those shriekeasies... where are they?"

"Here, let me get you a map — and a card. They'll want to know you've been vouched for, and I've got some friends there. Talk to a brass called Deuce Two-Tones, he'll set you up and give you some space. He's an old model LIB1010; the one with the chest full of ports, connectors all done in gold. Can't miss him — he'll be mobbed by tin kiddies hoping to earn a gold port of their own."

"Golightly wasn't kiddin' about this bein' the right building. This place is wired."

"But remember I said — keep it outdoors."

"Sure thing, Gamble. Sure thing."

"Here are your keys. You're ground floor, Unit B."

"Thanks, man. You're alright, for bein' clay. That's almost like bein' meat, ain't it?"

"Couldn't tell you. You go find Duece. Tell him I said hello."

"Sure thing, man. Sure thing."
Title: Dialogue: Writing Prompt
Post by: musestreet on December 20, 2010, 04:30:53 AM
Count me in as yet another first-timer to the forum.  When I saw Brandon's prompt earlier this week on Twitter, I figured I'd give it a try and see what happened.  This is the result.  I hope it's a fun read, even if I'm sure there's plenty of tweaking to be had.  You can find it at my serial fiction blog, Ink Raindrops, as well. http://abruce.november-fifth.com/

Title: Roland's Madness

“Let’s start with your name. Can you remember that?”

“Claude? Is that you? Ye’ve lost weight, dearie. Just like ye were ten years ago, when ye wore that lily-white dress, and-”

“No. I’m not Claude. My dress is blue. See, right here? Blue. And that was more than ten years ago, I promise you that.”

“With a pretty lass like ye, maybe I’ll be lookin’ a little closer, eh?”

“No, no. Please! Sit back down, you’ll hurt yourself. How could you- oh, never mind. Questions. You still didn’t tell me your name.”

“They used t’call me Captain Jericho. Mister Winter. Mud-boy.”

“Those aren’t names. They’re nicknames. You’ve told me all of them before. I want the name you were born with. The name your mother gave you.”

“Mama... Mama dances under the sun... singin’ her praises far and wide...”

“...and that is a wartime drinking song. This is getting us nowhere.”

“Loosen up, lassie. Relax a spell. Sit ‘ere on my lap and we’ll talk, just like we use’ta.”

“This is important. You’ve forgotten so much, I barely know where to begin. And yet, sometimes I think you do remember, somewhere in there...”

“O’course I remember the war! Th’ lightning, th’ fire, laid waste t’everythin’. This old man was luckier’n most. People died out there.”

“I didn’t say anything about... well, okay, I said ‘war’ a minute ago, but...”

“Blood, lassie, ain’t fer the likes o’sweet things like yerself. I had a girl yer age, once. Cried every time th’ wagon brought th’ bodies home. I miss her, I do. Is she here yet?”

“I... she’s here. She’s doing her best to help you right now, if you’ll only let her. She’s holding your hand now. Can you feel it?”

“I can feel just fine, lassie. Tell ‘er I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry I wasn’t good to ‘er. Like I oughta been. Didn’t spend enough time home. Didn’t teach ‘er the things I shoulda. All my fault.”

“You... do you know what you’re saying? Do you remember, now?”

“No interruptin’ an ol’ man, now. If I stop, I may jus’ not start again. Things don’t work th’ way they use’ta, after ten years. Captain Jericho use’ta say that.”

“...Never mind. I didn’t think this would be so hard. ...Okay. That girl you talked about, she was just a baby when you knew her, right? Do you remember her name?”

“Sugarplum. My dear, sweet Shelley...”

“That’s right! So you do remember! Or...”

“...stop a moment, lassie. My head... I’m not quite right, am I? Th’ words just don’t come anymore. Like drippin’ water from a well. They come, an’ then don’t, and then...”

“It’s okay. Take your time. You’ve survived a very serious injury. It’s only natural that it would take some time to heal. Maybe I’ve pushed too hard. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry yer pretty li’l head now, Claude. God knows I love ye just the same.”

“...I love you too. I’m not Claude, though. Try to remember.”

“I remember... fire, an’ lightnin’, and death. I didn’t want to. I wanted to go home, to my Claude, and my dear, sweet Sugarplum, and...”

“Is that why you did it? So you could come home?”

“I forgot to remember... their names. I wrote them on my skin. With red ink.”

“That... that was blood, not ink. They washed it off when they brought you in.”

“I forgot... I forgot everythin’! How did I forget? I remember... I remember forgettin’!”

“Calm down. Take it slowly, one step at a time. You seem angry. Did I upset you?”

“Memories... like fire an’ lightnin’ in the back of my head, burning... killing... have mercy on me, Gods of Virtue! Take pity on me, Gods of Mercy! Begone, demons of recollection!”

“Father, stop! You have to sit down, please! We can get through this, you just need to calm down. I just wanted to know why...”

“Th’ fire burned it away. All of it. I took the fire in my hands and it burned my mind away. I took the lightnin’ in my hands and it struck my soul astray. Mama... dances under the sun...”

“Father... I’m so sorry! We’re so close. You remember the magic, and the war, and you even remember Mother and me. But you don’t remember your name, or why...”

“‘Ere now, my dear, sweet Shelley Sugarplum. Don’t cry. Yer daddy said he’d be home t’ tuck ye into bed. He lied. But he made a bet and won it. All he had to do was call a li’l fire, ride a li’ lightnin’, and he’d be home afore sunset. The demons told him, they did.”

“Wait. Did they really tell you that? That using magic... would get you home?”

“Sure did. Won th’ bet, he did. An’ he forgot all about it. He tried t’ remember, though. He sure did try.”

“...that’s what I wanted to know. Those Gods-cursed wretches... they’ll pay dearly for this. Even they have to know the side effects of magic, after so many years...”

“Are you still here, Claude? Turn down th’ bed, love. A nap’ll do me right good...”

“Oh, no. ...I’m not Claude. I’m Shelley. Your Shelley Sugarplum. I’m... glad you remembered me, at least a little. I’m not that little girl anymore, but... I...”

“Good night, miss Claude. Tomorrow, maybe we’ll take Shelley Sugarplum down t’ th’ lake an’ get ‘er feet wet. She oughta learn t’ swim someday.”

“...just rest, Father. Rest, for the first and last time in thirty years. Mother has been waiting for you a long time.”

“Thank ye... my Sugarplum.”

“Goodbye... Roland. My father. You’ve given me everything I needed. I’ll make sure this never happens again. The truth must be told.”
Title: Brandon's Dialogue Challenge
Post by: papaholmz on December 20, 2010, 05:20:24 AM
Title: The Purgatory Incident

“Next!”

“Yes, hello; I’m next.”

“Name?”

“Kára.”

“Age?”

“732.”

“Previous occupation?”

“Valkyrie.”

“Wow! No kidding, a Valkyrie?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve never had a Valkyrie come through here before. Witches, Trolls, and Vampires sure, but never a Valkyrie.”

“I’d imagine not.”

“‘Kára’ doesn’t sound like a Valkyrie name.”

“I know.”

“Most Valkyries have awful names like Brynhildr or Geirdriful.”

“I’m lucky. I was born during that whole ‘the-gods-are-dead’ era when traditional Valkyrie baby names were out of style.”

“You don’t look like a Valkyrie.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“No, no, don’t get me wrong, you’re very beautiful and all-”

“Thank you!”

“But… where are your wings?”

“My wings were repo’d when my employment was terminated. Want to see the scars?”

“I’ll pass. Say, how exactly does a Valkyrie become unemployed anyway?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well I’m working a double and this line isn’t getting any shorter.”

“All right. Are you familiar with Valhalla?”

“Yes, of course. Who isn’t?”

“Well, as a Valkyrie it’s my job to decide who will die in battle and then to usher them to Valhalla.”

“How do you choose?”

“Very carefully.”

“Did you have to go through Valkyrie training?”

“Yes.”

“Was it hard?”

“It wasn’t too bad. The worst part was the long list of ‘death criteria’ I had to memorize.”

“How long?”

“Long enough to fill six volumes.”

“How do you remember it all?”

“With today’s technology it’s actually pretty easy. I recently bought an app for my scryPhone called iReaper Pro that has all sorts of info on death, including a section specifically for Valkyries.”

“I’ve seen that app in the appstore before but never knew who would use such a thing.”

“It’s very popular with Valkyries, Sirens, and a few Vampires. And I’m pretty sure Lucifer and Grim even use it.”

“I had no idea!”

“Plus, the app helps keep me mobile. I mean, you never know when a battle is going to crop up halfway across the world with no time to pack six volumes of ‘death criteria.’”

“Especially in our fast paced society.”

“My point exactly!”

“But wait, I thought Valkyries only worked Scandinavian battlefields. There hasn’t been a battle in Scandinavia for decades; is that why you lost your job?”

“No; eventually Odin got tired of paying us just to serve mead to the Einherjar at Valhalla so he contracted us out to the Pope.”

“Is that legal?”

“Apparently it is.”

“What did the Pope need with Valkyries?”

“With all the scandals the Catholic Church has had recently the Angels are tied up running supernatural interference with the media.”

“I bet that’s a full time job.”

“It is, so the Pope contracted us to usher any Catholics who die on the battlefield into Heaven.”

“But don’t some Catholics have to go to Purgatory before they’re allowed into Heaven?”

“Yes. In fact, that’s where all my troubles began.”

“This is going to be interesting.”

“Last week I was at Venus Nails getting my nails done, black of course, when the message came through: ‘URGENT: Incident in North Korea.’”

“North Korea?”

“That’s what I thought! As far as I knew, none of the Catholic nations had any current military operations in North Korea. So I called dispatch to make sure it wasn’t a mistake.”

“Was it?”

“As it turned out it wasn’t. The Vatican had recently sent one of its most highly trained priests to work with a U.S. Navy SEAL Team in North Korea, strictly unofficial of course.”

“What were they doing?”

“They were sent to perform an exorcism on Kim Jong-il.”

“Holy crap! Is that what’s wrong with the guy?”

“Once the SEAL Team had infiltrated Kim’s compound it didn’t take long for the priest to conclude that Kim was, in fact, not possessed.”

“Bummer. That would have been an easy fix.”

“As the SEAL Team was withdrawing, one of Kim’s personal guards spotted the priest and opened fire.”

“I knew it was going to be the priest! What did you do? Accidentally send him to Purgatory?”

“Actually, one of the SEALs, Lt. Stevens, who happened to be a Catholic, took the bullet for the priest.”

“And that’s when you were called in?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know where to take him?”

“Remember that app I was telling you about, iReaper pro?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it also has a section for Angels where they can send requests to St. Peter for real time information on where a specific soul should be taken upon death.”

“That’s handy.”

“I sent my request as soon as Stevens passed away and the answer came back almost immediately: ‘PURGATORY.’”

“I’m guessing that was incorrect.”

“The trouble started when we got to Purgatory and the gatekeeper said Stevens wasn’t on the list.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad; I can think of worse lists to be left off of.”

 “It wasn’t until I produced St. Peter’s iReaper response that the gatekeeper begrudgingly let Stevens in.”

“Problem solved!”

“Not even close!”

“What do you mean?”

“My assignment completed, I went back to Venus Nails to finish my manicure; I was barely done and out the door when the message came through: ‘URGENT: Report to Valhalla; Odin and the Pope are waiting.’”

“That sounds bad.”

“Odin isn’t known for hanging out with the Pope or for recalling Valkyries just to shoot the breeze; I was worried.”

“What did they want?”

“Apparently Stevens was supposed to go to Heaven and not Purgatory.”

“But I thought St. Peter told you to take Stevens to Purgatory?”

“He did.”

“So what happened?”

“Originally, Stevens was all set to go to Purgatory, but when he died the priest said a quick prayer that essentially gave Stevens a ‘Get Out Of Purgatory Free Card.’”

“So it was St. Peter who made the mistake?”

“Yes. My sources tell me that St. Peter is always backlogged with prayers; sometimes it even takes days before a prayer gets filed.”

“You shouldn’t be held responsible for St. Peter’s mistake!”

“That’s what I said. But who’s the Pope going to listen to? St. Peter, the keeper of the keys of Heaven or Kára, the Valkyrie on loan from Odin?”

“Couldn’t St. Peter just get Stevens transfered to Heaven?

“You’d think so. But apparently there’s a minimum five year holding period before a transfer is allowed.”

“Well that thoroughly sucks!”

“So here I am looking for a job.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you Kára. My name is Albert, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Albert.”

“So Kára, what kind of job are you looking for?”

“Anything that doesn’t involve Angels, death, gods, Heaven, the Pope, Purgatory, Valhalla, Vampires, or Witches. And I can’t get along with Sirens no matter how hard I try. Also, I prefer not to work with Demons; they’re always hitting on me.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Thingamawidget on December 20, 2010, 06:23:44 AM
FIRE FROM THE GODS

“How many does that make now?”

“Eleven.”

“Damn. Two in one month. How did this one go?”

 “We don’t really know yet. We’ve only just confirmed that they were an FTL civilization. Nailing down the manner of extinction with any degree of precision is going to be a long road. Preliminary reports suggest social upheaval, but that might be a result of whatever it was that actually killed them, not the cause itself.”

“Goodthomas Jonah and his followers are going to have a field day with this.”

“Nothing we can do about that. We’re scientists, not politicians. We don’t hide results we don’t like.”

“We’re sure they were FTL, aren’t we?”

“Yes. There’s no doubt about it. We’ve found congruencies in three planetary systems well outside of their respective radio shells. They must have had FTL.”

“How long ago did it happen? Do we know that yet?”

“The chrono team thinks it was probably between three hundred and five-hundred years ago. They won’t have a full report for a couple of months yet, but they don’t expect the number to change much.”

“And how old? Do we now how old they were when it happened?”

“The chrono team is working on that too. That’s even less certain. But it looks. . . ” “Like its right around fifty-seven years.”

“Well, they’re saying sixty years, plus or minus ten.”

“Let’s not release those numbers until Chrono is willing to release a full report. No need to throw more fuel on the fire when we don’t know if the numbers are correct.”

“They’ll leak out anyway.”

“I know. But I don’t want them quoted as official numbers until they are official. And tell chrono to try to get us that report ASAP.”

“What do you think?”

 “About what?”

“Everything. What Goodthomas and his followers are saying.”

 “Goodthomas is just a crazy. Humanity has had them since long before we left Old Earth. He’s not really any different from all the others.”

“So you don’t believe there is any truth to what he’s saying? That we’ll be next?”

 “I didn’t say that. Goodthomas is crazy, I have no doubt about that. But even if he’s crazy, he might be right.”

“It’s a scary thought, isn’t it?”

 “Yes. I don’t like it, and we don’t have much evidence for it, but its a nasty thought. The more I look at the numbers, the more what he says starts to make sense.”

“But all the FTL engineers and researcher say that there is no possible mechanism. That the engines can’t possibly have any sort of effect on us that could cause this.”

“That might just mean that none of them are looking in the right place.”

“I know. And the numbers don’t look good. One hundred-forty-one extant human or human-descent civilizations—”

“One-forty-three.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard. Who found them?”

“Lemarc and his group. Both in the same system actually, but they don’t have any contact with each other, and Lemarc’s people think that they are biologically distinct, so we’re counting them as two different civilizations. But anyway, go on.”

“Right. One hundred forty three extant human civilizations. Evidence for maybe twenty extinct civilizations. Of those, eleven have been confirmed FTL civs. None of the non- FTL’s lasted for more than two generations past initial settlement. Most didn’t make it one. In the case of the non-FTL civilizations, cause of extinction is pretty consistent. Lack of resources, imported divisions among the original population, and in the case of Cambell’s civ, plain old bad luck. If that asteroid hadn’t hit them, we might have one more extant civilization today.”

“And the FTL’s?”

“No known consistency. Confirmed extinction modes include convergence of natural disasters, social upheaval followed up by plague of unknown origin, and civil war. The rest are still uncertain.”

“Not quite true. There is one consistency. All extinctions happened within fifty-seven years of first FTL flight.”

“We don’t know that. Hiroto’s hypothesized as much, and Goodthomas and his crowd are convinced its true, but we can don’t have hard numbers for all of them.”

“Should I run through the list?”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I’ve looked at the numbers.”

“And?”

 “It looks bad. The number suggest that no civilization that used FTL drives survives for even a century. The limit may be 57 years. But we don’t know why. For all we know it’s just coincidence.”

“It doesn’t scare you? It doesn’t scare you that we’ve been using FTL for thirty years now? That we may have less than that left?”

“Of course it scares me! Why do you think I’m in this line of work? Every day I hope to find evidence that it isn’t true, that there is no reason to believe that our civilization will be gone in three decades! I don’t buy it. Goodthomas tries to scare everyone with it, but the theory makes no sense. No one can suggest a cause. There is no link between the FTL drives and any of the extinction modes. No one even has a theory as to how that could work.”

“Yet they’re all dead.”

“Except us.”

“Yes. Except us.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Literateknits on December 20, 2010, 06:59:14 AM
My little effort for Brandon's "dialog" challenge (and my first post). I threw it up on my blog, but I thought I'd post it here as well. I read a few of these and I can't wait to read the rest.

Lavender

By Erin Kelly

“Do you smell like lavender?”

“No. First off, perfume doesn’t work on inpenitrible skin, second using perfume when you might have to sneak into a criminal’s hideout is suicide. It’s worse than forgetting your mask. Everyone knows that.”

“I smell lavender. It’s coming from you.”

“I told you. I don’t--Oh F--- I use lavender detergent on my bed sheets.”

“Starting recently?”

“Always. I did a load yesterday.”

“And then rolled around in them before coming on stakeout?”

“I slept in my uniform last night.”

“On purpose?”

“Watkins does it.”

“Watkins arrested a pumpkin last week.”

“Oh yeah, well he also... made pies out of it.”

“Exactly. Someday soon we’ll be packing him off to an asylum with the rest of the crazies.”

“The pies were delicious.”

“Baking doesn’t require sanity.”

“Do you know why Watkins started sleeping in his uniform?”

“Because he’s a few tacos short of a combo platter."

“Maybe, but he says he sleeps better when he can be the Onyx Falcon for a few more hours before he has to spend the day as Gerald
Watkins.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being who you are.”

“Even when it gets in the way of who you’d rather be?”

“It’s the only way to do this thing.”

“Not if you join O.M.A.”

“O.M.A. can’t do stuff like this.”

“I’ve seen O.M.A. Soldiers on stakeouts and so have you.”

“Not on guys like Tiger Claw.”

“So, O.M.A. has bigger fish to fry.”

“No, O.M.A. has PR to worry about.”

“So they handle higher profile crime, they still get out there and do good works.”

“It’s doing good with an agenda, not because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Good is good.”

“We could take down as many drug dealers in a night as an entire OMA squad, but instead we’re here, where we’re actually needed, tracking down guys like Tiger Claw, guys only we can handle.”

“Does that mean we’re actually going in tonight?”

“There’s always a chance. Listen, if we have to sneak up on anyone you let me go first.”

“Like Hell I will. I’m invulnerable. I go first.”

“Less chance of them smelling you that way.”

“You are probably the only one who could smell me.”

“It’s raining, that makes you smell stronger and we’ve seen two new guys go into Tiger Claw’s hideout tonight. They could be capable of anything.”

“If they even have powers! This is not that type of gang. I don’t think Tiger Claw has anything besides the weird eye and the claws. No heightened senses, unlike someone I could mention.”

“He’s got a mean streak a mile wide and no compunctions about using those claws on this whole neighborhood. That’s enough to take him down before he gets established, so you stay behind me unless someone pulls a gun. Then you get in front and block those bullets.”

“You’re wearing kevlar.”

“Not on my face.”

“Fine.”

...

...

...

“Only you could smell a trace of lavender laundry detergent while sitting in a pile of trash.”

“You’d better hope so.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: redambit on December 20, 2010, 07:44:10 AM
Another first poster, and already impressed by other stuff here. Here's my attempt at the dialogue writing prompt:

~~~~
   “OK, I'm awake and I'm here. Happy?”

   “Delighted. Come on, it's over here.”

   “...Huh.”

   “Amazing, right?”

   “Aunt Aileen isn't going to like this. You know how neurotic she is about keeping the front yard clean.”

   “Eri, you're missing the big picture here! This is actual evidence of a spontaneous human combustion!”

   “It's a black silhouette and a pile of ash. It doesn't even look all that convincing.”

   “Doesn't have to look convincing. They can analyze the ash and find human DNA in it, I saw it on TV.”

   “Whatever. Look, is that it? Because I would really like to go back to bed now.”

   “Eri, come on! I need your help!”

   “If you want me to put... this... thing in little baggies so you can try to convince someone to analyze it, or something, I'm letting you know right now that I am not touching it."

   "Well, no, that'd contaminate the evidence, but that's not what I'm getting at. I want you to help me find him."

   "Who?"   

   "The guy!"

   "Let me try this again. Who do you want me to help you find?"

   "The guy who spontaneously combusted!"

   "...Kenneth?"

   “Yeah?”

   “Look down.”

   “OK?”

   “You see that pile of ash?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Guess what? You found him!"

   “You know what I mean. We need to figure out who he was, where he came from, why he showed up at my house and burst into a ball of flame—and, well, I have to admit... I'm starting to wonder about the shoes.”

   “The shoes.”

   “Well, according to other eyewitnesses of SHC—”

   “It has an acronym?”

   “—there's usually a pair of shoes left behind. With some feet still in them.”

   “That's disgusting.”

   “Yeah, I know. But why didn't this guy leave the shoes behind? Makes me kind of wonder if there was something weird about this case, or maybe... do you think someone could be playing a prank on me? Again? Like, with the UFOs last month?”

   “Nice to see something resembling healthy skepticism from you, but it disturbs me more than a little that the only thing that bothers you about this is the shoes.”

   “What do you mean? What else is wrong?”

   “Well, just for starters, there's the fact that spontaneous human combustion isn't real.”

   “What, you don't believe in it? But it happens all the time! I've seen the scientific documentaries, and you're looking at evidence right—”

   “Ken, seriously, that conspiracy-theory garbage you watch does not count as science just because it's on the Discovery Channel.”

   “...Still. If it didn't happen, where would the stories come from?”

   “Oh, please. Look, listen to some real science for once. Spontaneous Combustion does happen. To hay. And it's not even spontaneous. There's a kind of mildew that can grow inside hay bales. It undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to heat up, and because hay is so flammable it just catches fire when the mildew is hot enough.”

   “So why couldn't a person have some of that mildew?”

   “Um, mildew doesn't grow on people. Not when they're alive, anyway.”

   “Wait. Wait. I get what you're saying.”

   “Great! Finally we make some progress. Your psychologist will be thrilled.”

   “You're saying he was a zombie?”

   “What? No! No, that is not what I'm—”

   “But that makes total sense! That's why the guy didn't say anything when I tried to talk to him. I guess it's a good thing the mildew got him before he had a chance to go after my brains then.”

   “It's like... instead of jumping to conclusions, you skip over the conclusions and onto a different train of thought entirely.”

   “But if there's one zombie, there's probably others. This could be the zombie apocalypse. Even worse, this could be the spontaneously combusting zombie apocalypse.”

   “No. Just... no.”

   “We've got to find out what happened to this guy. But how am I going to find a zombie?”

   “Marco Polo. Play a game of Marco Polo. That is clearly the next step in your highway robbery of logic.”

   “No, that wouldn't work. Zombies can't talk very well. Death relaxes your vocal chords too much.”

   “...the worst part is that I'm not even sure whether or not you're serious anymore.”

   “Well, where would you look for a dead guy?”

   “The obituaries, I guess.”

   “Of course! You're brilliant! OK, so now we just need some newspapers.”

   “Correction, now you just need some newspapers. It is eight in the morning on a Saturday; I am going back to bed whether you like it or not.”

   “But if you leave now we'll loose the trail!”

   “Trail?”

   “Come Watson, the game's afoot!”

   “Watson?”

   “...I'll find a way to get you out of doing dishes after the family reunion next week.”

   “You're supposed to help me with that anyway.”       

   “I'll come over and mow the lawn for you.”

   “Hm.”

   “If you help me out, I won't let my brother's tarantula loose in your room.”

   “What? You... fine, whatever, I'll come. But this had better not take too long.”

   “Oh, relax, it'll be fun... Hey, Eri.”

   “What?”

   “I just realized something.”

   “Yeah?”

   “That guy who spontaneously combusted, he must have been a really Fun Guy, right?”

   “...”

   “You get it? Because mildew is a fungus?”

   “...this is going to be a long day.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts! (The Will)
Post by: Obsessiforge on December 20, 2010, 09:20:08 AM
So I've posted it to my blog, and I'm just gonna link it down here for easy access.

http://obsessiforge.blogspot.com/2010/12/will-dialogue-challenge.html

And here's the body of the text.

The Will

“Its quite a banquet out there, Nina”

“Its quite the occasion, Diogenes. A great victory for my tribe. You’ve changed the Bluefeet’s lives, you know.”

“People’s lives are constantly changing...everything we do changes somebody’s life.”

“Please, Diogenes, don’t be so modest. It was a brilliant strategy, well executed and effective in ways we didn’t think possible. The Bluefeet needn’t worry about the Bronzebacks anymore. You can count that a significant change.”

“I wasn’t without my motives.”

“Ah. Of course not. Well, my men recovered it in the aftermath. Here’s your book.”

“The Will of Thedosis.”

“Mmhm. Few know of it now, and even less follow it. The Bronzebacks do."

“Did.”

“Did. Did you think that if what you’re looking for is really in those pages, the book wouldn’t have disappeared?”

“I had considered that, yes.”

“And yet...”

“Nina, why do we think magic is magic?”

“Because...it...lets people do the impossible.”

“But does it? The Mages have existed your entire life, my entire life - we’ve existed in the same world as them for years, centuries...and in all that time, everything they have been able to do has been possible...technically. Because they could do it.”

“Well yes, but its impossible for you and me.”

“Alright...say there’s an archer.”

“There’s an archer.”

“A world class archer, the envy of every would-be marksman in Ter-Thalla.”

“Mmhm?”

“If he were to strike a target at the center, ten times out of ten, could you match his feat?”

“No...”

“Then how are the Mages any different?”

“Well its not a skill with them, its just...an ability. Its something that just happens.”

“What about a blind man then? Take a man, born without sight, who has developed extraordinary hearing to compensate. Could you hear everything he hears?”

“Probably not...”

“It doesn’t matter that some have it and some don’t. Magic exists, and its existence lets us accept it. Its...commonplace, in a way. What’s so magical about that?”


“What’s your point, Diogenes?”

“We think magic is magical because there was a time before it. It was bestowed on humanity, and at that point, it was an impossibility.”

“No, I mean what does that have to do with the book?”

“If there was a time before magic, the people of that time would have longed for it. Imagined the impossible and made it their dearest wish. Everybody’s done that at some point.”

“And now we have magic. Well, not we, but somebody...”

“So there’s got to be something else fantastic and impossible to wish for. That’s what I seek.”

“So you’ve decided to look in a dead book?”

“There’s a reason it fell out of favor.”

“Being?”

“Well I don’t know. But there was a reason. Political, philosophical, maybe it just went out of style. In any case, there’s something in these pages about what I’m looking for. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes, but like I said, its a dead book for a dead faith. You think you’ll find a way to bring your wife back in there?”

“Not...well...”

“What?”

“...The detective. Do you know his purpose?”

“The one out there? With the crowbar?”

“I really don’t understand the fascination with the crowbar...”

“He’s investigating...a series of murders, I think.”

“And the razing of Azugrad city.”

“But that was the Bronzebacks. They set Azugrad ablaze...he thinks that’s related?”

“It is related.”

“But he doesn’t think so.”

“No. He doesn’t know.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because the Bronzebacks didn’t burn down Azugrad.”

“And the killer did?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because the detective is looking for me.”

“...Stay back.”

“Nina, listen.”

“The Bronzebacks never went near Azugrad, did they?”

“Does that change anything? They still terrorized your people!”

“Do you even know how many people-”

“Twelve. Eleven in Saphiir, one in Azugrad.”

“One? The city burned all night!”

“I killed one person. It was one too many.”

“What about the other eleven?”

“Eleven too many.”

“I...Thedosis, this is...”

“Would you let me explain?”

“No! Diogenes, what...no.”

“Nina, listen!”

“The soldiers, the ones the Mages sent from the Capitol, they never had a reason to fight the Bronzebacks, did they? They were looking for you all along!”

“And those soldiers, once again, saved your tribe from-”

“You just lured them in and tricked them into dying for our cause?”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“And they don’t know.”

“Our deal was simple. I helped you defeat those brutes and I got the book.”

“Because you wanted to bring your wife back.”

“Yes, but what I’m trying to explain to you is that it wasn’t ever just my wife!”

“What?”

“Look, after I lost her I couldn’t stay...I couldn’t keep fighting in that awful war. So I left, to sort everything out in my mind...and after two years of searching, the only thing I thought would ease this wrenching feeling in me was...well, revenge.”

“So you started killing people.”

“The ones I knew were responsible for the war. Davin, for the weaponry that made it possible for the people to fight back against the Mages...the generals and commanders, on both sides...”

“And that made you feel better? So that justifies everything?

“No! Well...it did, but only for a little while. And every time, I’d feel this relief. Just...utter relief. Sometimes only for moments, but in that moment it was worth it.”

“Worth it.”

“It didn’t last.”

“Oh no?”

“No, it was always replaced with this ugly mixture of guilt and...crushing anxiety.”

“Anxiety?”

“Well that’s the only word I can think of to describe it.”

“No, it makes sense. I’d be anxious too if I’d just killed that many people!”

“Nina, try to stop passing judgment for just a minute and try to understand what I’m trying to say.”

“What are you trying to say?”

*“That this book is my way out! Out of the cycle...because the guilt keeps building and building, and the only way it goes away is when I...”

“Oh my god...you...”

“But then you told me about this book! About what it could, maybe, do...for years people believed that this man, or God, what you will...Thedosis. People believed he brought down his magic from the outside and gave it to us.”

“Wait, just...”

“Listen. He made the impossible possible.”

“This isn’t a guarantee! I don’t know what’s in that book, Gene.”

“Could you not call me that?”

“What?”

“She called me that...”

“So there’s no letting go for you is there?”

“I told you, its not just her. You told me this Thedosis brought us magic. And that he supposedly wrote this Will to help us lead our lives.”

“Supposedly.”

“Its better than nothing. Every time I slit one of their throats, this guilt kept building. Its always right here.”

“And what if you can’t bring them all back then? What if there’s some limitation, or its all fake to begin with?”

“Then that’s the reality I’ll be saddled with. That’s what I’ll have to accept, and I’ll either find another way to settle my soul or go insane. Until then, any possibility gives me something to focus on. To ward away the guilt.”

“And what of the soldiers you manipulated? You did that after I told you about the Will. You can’t take back their deaths, even if you could bring them back. Not completely.”

“I couldn’t. But at least they wouldn’t have to suffer for my wrongdoing. I’d still be guilty, yes...but I can’t even ask forgiveness from a corpse.”

“No, I can’t believe...Look, if I had never even mentioned the myths behind this book would you feel any obligation to find a way to absolve yourself? No, you’d continue on this path, killing people until there was nobody left to justify murdering! What would ease your anxiety then?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’d just go on killing anyone? Reason or no?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

“Then why shouldn’t I walk right back out there and tell them all what you’ve just told me?”

“Because then there would never be a chance to bring any of them back! This book would be lost again, I’m sure of it.”

“You’re doing this for you.”

“Yes. Everything we do is selfish.”

“Do you honestly think you deserve a chance at redemption?”

“Only because everybody is supposed to deserve one.”

“So you deserve to ‘settle your soul’ with this impossible quest, or, failing that, delusion?”

“Everything we do is selfish...but everything we do also changes somebody’s life. Sometimes what we might need most can be what someone else needs even more.”

“And if you fail?”

“Then the hope is gone. That doesn’t mean I’d forget why I tried.”

“You’re trying to save your soul.”

“Yes.”

“And if that’s impossible?”

“It is impossible. But who’s known for making the impossible possible?”

“Thedosis...”

“Thedosis.”

“...Open the book.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: rkgal on December 20, 2010, 10:46:38 AM
Hello, all.  I'm another first-time poster.  This is my attempt at Brandon's dialogue prompt.  Feel free to critique and make fun of it-- I know I am!
___________________________________________________________________________________

“So, you must be the new girl.”

“Yeah.  I’m Kaccia.”

“I’m Scott. So how are you?”

“Honestly?  I feel as if I just dropped into an x-men comic book.  This school, this place.  Places like this just don’t exist in the real world.”

“You mean people like us.  Special people.”

“Well, yeah.  I mean, in your wildest dreams did you ever think anything like this was even possible?”

“Sure.  Why not?  Comic book writers had to get their ideas from somewhere.”

“I still can’t believe I’m a super hero.”

“You’re not, not really.  You just have… enhanced abilities.”

“Yeah, I know.  Dr. Grismohr explained it already.  I still don’t get all the genetic stuff he was trying to explain.”

“Yeah.  Well, obviously that’s not your area of enhancement.” 

“I guess not.  Hey—did you just make fun of me?”

“Of course I did.  What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t tease the pretty, new girl?”

“Not a very good one, I suppose… “

“Tell me, Kaccia, what’s your nick-name?”

“Oh, I don’t have one.  It’s just Kaccia.”

“No, no.  Not for your first name.  Your real nick-name.”

“I’m not following.”

“Surely they must have called you something in relation to your ability.”

“Oh.  I don’t have one.”

“A name virgin, eh?  I guess I’ll have to give you a nick-name.”

“Do you have a nick-name?”

“Sure do.  It’s Phosphor—because I glow in the dark. But we’ll get back to me later; I wanna know about you. What is it exactly that you do?  I tried to ask Lawrence about it, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Nothing. “

“Common!  Tell me.”

“No.  It’s embarrassing.”

“I’ll find out sooner or later.  You might as well tell me now and get it over with.”

“I… do you promise not to laugh?”

“I swear.”

“I can find where squirrels find their nuts.”

“What?”

“I can find where squirrels find their nuts.  See, squirrels really aren’t that smart.  They hide nuts in preparation for the winter, and then they forget where they hide them.  Most the time if they find a nut, it’s because it was buried shallowly and they could smell it from the surface.  I can find them no matter how deep they are.  And I can tell what kind they are too.”

“You’re joking.”

“Um… no.  Not really.  That’s what I do.”

“That’s the most ridiculous ability I’ve ever heard of!”

“I know.”

“Oh, no, no.  Don’t worry.  I’m sure we’ll put that to good use here.”

“Really?”

“Eh.  Maybe.  But for now, you need a nick name.  How about Nut-Case?”

“Maybe…but that makes me sound like I’m crazy!  I’m not crazy; in fact, they just let me out of a home because I was definitely not crazy.”

“Alright then.  What about Nut-Job?”

“Nut-Job?  No way.  That sounds too dirty.”

“I know; that’s why I like it.  Okay, how about the Nut-Cracker?”

“No.  Then people will think that I have something to do with Christmas, and I really don’t even like that holiday.  What about… Nutty-Buddy?”

“Pftck!  Hahahahaha!”

“Okay, so no.  You got anything else?”

“Squirrel Girl?”

“No.  There’s a Marvel super hero named Squirrel Girl.  She’s really obscure and totally uncool.  I’d die of mortification if anyone were to relate me to her.”

“You’re joking!  Really?  Squirrel Girl is a real comic character?  How do you know that?”

“I’ve read fantasy books and comics as long as I can remember.  X-men and Red Sonja were by far my favorites.  All those years spent wishing I had powers, and now I do…  I’m just a geek, I guess.”

“Yeah, you are.  That’s all the suggestions I’ve got.  Nut-Case is the only one you didn’t flat-out say no to.”

“Okay.  I guess I’m stuck with Nut-Case.”

“You know, I kinda like it.  It makes you sound …dangerous.  It’s like I’d be taking a risk just to talk to you, and that is very, very sexy.”

“Yeah.  Cause finding nuts makes me sexy.”

“Of course that part doesn’t.  But it’s all in how you go about presenting yourself.”

“And you would know?”

“Of course.  I’m an old pro at this stuff.”

“Oh, I forgot.  You’re the super-hero meets James Bond man.”

“Pretty much.   At least, I could be if I wanted to.  I am a government agent, after all.  You will be too… if you want to be.”

“Is that really what I’m here for? “

“No.  You’re here to learn about your abilities.  Most of the time there are things that people can do that they don’t realize they can do, even if they know they are special.”

“So I might be able to do more than find nuts and identify them?”

“You might.  Then again you might not.  Either way, the training is really good for making people into spy-material.”

“Because it lets them know what their strengths and limitations are, right?”

“Partially.  Actually, the majority of the agents that are trained here have pretty sucky powers… kinda like yours.  But the training makes you more aware of your surroundings, and it helps your brain focus on minute details that normal people would miss.”

“Does that mean that this school is really just some sort of big government spy-training program?”

“Not at all.  In fact, most people that train do not become agents.  Most people come, leave and then go on to lead semi-normal lives.”

“I feel like I’m missing something.  There has to be another point to this school than just training potential agents and letting most of them go free.  Why would the government go to such an extreme to fund this?”

“One word: monitoring.  Even though yours, and mine for that matter, is kind of a pansy ability, there are people out there with enhanced abilities who would pose a potential threat to society.  The government seeks those people out and they dispose of them if they turn out to be a problem.  Because, unlike your precious x-men, the general populous doesn’t know about us.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Lya on December 20, 2010, 11:21:42 PM
These are really fun to read. :)

Mine's a bit short, but oh well.

***



"Dad? I'm scared."

"It's okay. We'll be fine. Just keep holding my hand."

"We should just set up camp like last night."

"Do you really want to spend another night in bedrolls, have biscuits for breakfast again, when there's a proper inn an hour away?"

"I still don't like the dark."

"The dark can't hurt you."

"I think... I think I see one! Behind that tree. In the shadow."

"Hold up the lantern. See? Just a twisty-like branch."

"But what if it hid."

"Doram, look at me. You're wearin' your charm, right? Then none of those unholy Fey can get you."

"But Liya told me an Ice Dryad can kill you with one touch. One touch!"

"Ice—Ice Dryads? That's what you're worried about?"

"Uh-huh."

"Son, it's high summer. No Icies in summer, not in these parts."

"Never?"

"Never."

"For sure?"

"Certain as larks in the morning."

"But then... why are we wearing charms?"

"Ha! I always said you're a clever boy."

"Dad, why?"

"No Icies don't mean no Fey, but the Pantheon protects their devout."

"Protects from what?"

"It's just a few rumors. Just in case."

"Which Fey though?"

"We won't see any, don't worry over it."

"But which one?"

"You have to promise me you won't get scared again."

"I'll be a brave little boy."

"Good. It's just Goblings anyhow."

"Liya said Goblings have yellow cat eyes and they can kill by looking at you!"

"Liya's a silly little girl. Goblings kill with knives, not looks. And they can't even see in the dark too well neither."

"Oh... big knives?"

"Plain old knives."

"What about knives that grow out of their hands?"

"You like scaring yourself or something? Plain old knives."

"Oh. You know what I think? I think Goblings—dad what's that?"

"Probly just another—lift the lantern, now—twisty... wait. Is it... moving?"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"Hush up, get back here! If it's really a Gobling, we have to be real quiet now."

"I want to go home."

"I said be quiet! And cover that lantern."

"...what about whispering?"

"Only if you have to. Follow me now."

"It's so dark."

"Once we're out from under the trees..."

"Dad! Where'd you go? Hold my hand! Dad? Daddy?!"
Title: Re: Writing Exercise: Dialogue
Post by: sceneTK421 on December 20, 2010, 11:29:46 PM
Hello all. I wish I could say this was my first post, but y'all probably saw my embarrassing first post. Anyway, this was a fun exercise. Very similar to screenwriting. I bleeped the bad words, cause I think I read that this is a family forum  ;D

Here is my contribution:


“What is that?”

“What?”

“That.”

“Oh... that's nothing.”

That is nothing?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you stupid?”

“No.”

“Then you know its a Siftyr.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that!”

“I thought you meant the toaster.”

“It is kind of a weird toaster... No, the Siftyr.”

“Well, if you know what it is, why are you asking me 'what is that'?”

“Sorry, I didn't mean 'what is that'. What I meant was: Why, under the Breath of Thought, would you, or anyone with half a head, have that just lying there? Next to your chair. With a sandwich on top of it.”

“I found it.”

“You found it? Where?”

“In the fridge.”

“No. The Reaver. The Siftyr. Where did you get it?”

“Goodwill.”

“Oh right, I forgot about the 'Mindbendingly Rare & Evil Contraptions Section' in the back next to the brik-a-brak. Well, grab your sandwich, I'm going to destroy it. The Siftyr I mean, not the sandwich.”

“Wait.”

“Do you know what it does?

“It looks kinda like a space thing, a Buck Rogers future-that-never-was device of some sort, but it has these wires and the jars and its got that metal plate that says 'Siftyr' on it...? So, no.”

“That, my dear damned friend, is a Soul Harvestor. It sucks souls out of bodies. And stuffs them into little jars. Then it sucks all the water out of your body and scatters you to nothing. Well, close to nothing anyway... And you see the sweat on the thing? That's people residue. That's reminents of soul juice. And its seeping into your sandwich.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Well first move the sandwich, and then if you want to suck yer own soul out, make it all neat and travel-sized, press that little blue button with the ghost thing on it. I will be running and screaming.”

“I don't think that's what I want.”

“Well then move. I have to smash it.”

“You're f***ing with me, right?”

“No.”

“You are. You're just f***ing with me.”

“I promise I am not f***ing with you. Now move.”

“Stop. I don't want it smashed.”

“Move.”

“No. I like it.”

“Its evil. It takes souls at the touch of a button.”

“I don't believe you. I think its pretty.”

“It rips the living essence from you, and then turns you to dust.”

“I'm going to turn it on.”

What?!

“I'm going to turn it on.”

“Oh, there I go saying 'what' again when what I meant was: Please, under the Breath of Thought, don't turn the thing on. It will do very bad things to us. It is not meant for this world. It should be broken past any hope of repair. Let me break it.”

“One.”

“Don't do it. It will Reave you. You cannot begin to think this is a good idea. Come on. Don't do it. There is no point.”

“Two.”

“Why would you gamble, not only the life and body you know and the experiences that live in your future, but also that bit of you that is everlasting? Your eternal bit. The thing you share with the universe. Your soul. Throwing such a gift on the chopman's block, just to see if you can pull it back in time, or to see if just maybe he's got a foam axe. Disgusting. If you press that button and I happen to be wrong, remind me to never take you to Vegas.”

“Three.”

“...”

“...”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“.............weird....”

“Ooooooohh...”

“...Ahhhhh.”

“AAAAaaaaaarrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...”

“Ahh ahhh ahh ahhh ooooaa aghh aghh aaaghh...”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaattttttttthhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh...”

“Hhhhhhhhhhoooooolllly Sh*****************tt!!!!!”

“--oh f***-- --oh f***-- --oh f***-- ”

“Aahhhhhhrrrrr..”

“...”

“What a waste of a sandwich.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: MortalDays on December 21, 2010, 02:13:44 AM
Enclosed please find one (1) dialogue exercise. Almost but not quite 700 words.

DEMON’S BURN
“There. The peaks we’ve been looking for.”
“At last.”
“We should camp here. It’s late, and you must be tired.”
“I’ve kept up with you so far, my Prince. Your arm is troubling you, not my stamina.”
“Forgive me, Iridia. You’re right, of course. Every time my horse takes a step, it’s like being stabbed in the thumb and feeling it through to the elbow.”
“Then sit over there and rest. I’ll gather the firewood. I think it’ll be cooler tonight than last night.”
“I won’t argue, not this time. Will you want to change the poultice?”
“It would do no good. It isn’t really helping you now. Your wound is beyond my magicks, but not Magda’s, I hope. My Prince—”
“Iridia. I’d rather you used my name. You weren’t so formal when we were children.”
“Retic. You weren’t a prince then. Excuse me.”
“That’s a fine blaze you’ve built there. The food, on the other hand …”
“Hah! I can’t work miracles with travel rations. Fresh meat would be good, but I’m not the hunter my husband was.”
“My arm wouldn’t let me draw a bow if I had one. If there were more light, I could perhaps set a snare. Well, jerky it will have to be.”
“You were handy with a sling, once. You killed Yeoman Rancing’s prize rabbit. How old were we? Ten?”
“How do you … stars! You were there! I’d forgotten — I only remembered him screaming at me and Mikael wetting his pants. How was I to know? He shouldn’t have let the thing get out of its pen.”
“The color should have told you. How many black-and-white rabbits had you ever seen out in the fields?”
“I was only a kid. Father paid him back, anyhow.”
“Rancing died a few months ago. Brain fever; very sudden. I spoke to him a few weeks earlier and he told me, ‘If Retic ever comes back here, tell him I’m still waiting for my apology.’”
“Seriously? After twenty years? It’s true I never apologized. He frightened the wits out of me and I avoided him ever after. Then Father was recalled to court, and … well. Such is the past.”
“Those were good times.”
“Indeed. We’ll want an early start tomorrow. I will, uh, suggest we combine our bedrolls. We’ve gained so much altitude the night will be chilly, and when two lie down together, they can keep warm. I read that somewhere.”
“I’ve taken a long time to answer, I know. It wouldn’t be entirely proper.”
“Nor improper. You have only your father waiting for you at home, I have only my mother and sisters. What did you say? Or were you just whispering to yourself?”
“It’s a practical suggestion, but I whispered of my loneliness, and wondered if that would drive my answer.”
“My own drove the question, in part. Please, take your time.”
“Finally I can answer. Let’s keep warm.”
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. And warm.”
“I know my arm smells, but …”
“Shh, my Prince. It’s all right.”
“Wake up, princeling.”
“Eh? What? Who are you?”
“Magda, the one you came seeking.”
“Iridia? Iridia! Witch! What have you done to her?”
“I’ve rid you of a cloying, stupid cow. I listened to your heartfelt confessions last night. Revolting.”
“She called you friend.”
“I need no friends. Stand when you address me, princeling.”
“Damn your eyes! I will die without your help, and I would rather that than do the bidding of a murderess.”
“You will not die. Not for some days, anyway, as the acid courses through your blood and burns you to your bones, and the pain will be so great you will do naught but scream and scream and scream. Is that how you want to die, princeling, over a few mere words?”
“You will pay, witch. With every last drop of your blood, if you have any.”
“Oh, I am sure. Now show me your wound. Hm. Very grave. But not grave enough.”
“What? The demon—”
“Was supposed to slay you, fool! Put your sword down. It will not—”
“Kill you as it killed your minion?”

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: sceneTK421 on December 21, 2010, 03:20:47 AM
This just came out. Sorry for posting two. But this one is dang short.
I don't know if I broke a rule, but I prepare to be reprimanded.  :-\



“Dear God. Well, as you must know I have some stuff going on--”

“What kinda stuff?”

“I do believe I said, 'Dear God'.”

“And what am I?

“Not.”

“But I am an Angel.”

“And?”

“You don't believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you sure. I don't think you made those wings. I don't think that you are some creep that dresses up in a spectacular angel costume and sneaks into girls' bedrooms at night.”

“So fill me in. Let me get a word to Big Pop.”

“Well, when I pray isn't that talking directly to Him?”

“Uh, yeah, technically.”

“So, why would I talk to you to talk to Him, when I can just talk to Him?.”

“Maybe I can help with something.”

“Nah, I don't think so.”

“Why?”

“You don't get it.”

“How do you know? You didn't even tell me what's going on.”

“You're an angel right?”

“Yup.”

“So you don't know what its like to be human. I'm sure you could give some bang-up angel advice with all the know how and ins and outs and such, but these issues I have are human issues, deep and mortal. Bloody even. It would be like a monkey asking for beaver advice.”

“Hmmm”

“And there, not even a hint of a smile. You didn't even think of a vagina did you?”

“What?”

“Beavers, sometimes we call vaginas, beavers.”

“I know that.”

“But your mind didn't automatically go there. Mine did. I thought of a monkey and a vagina talking. Or maybe a monkey asking advice on vaginas.”

“Hmm. I see what you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“But that doesn't mean I can't help. I can provide a perspective you would never be able to see from. Just like that monkey. He could provide some excellent perspective to that little vagina.”

“Haaahahaahhahahahahaaaahhhahaaa... 'little'?”

“I was thinking comparatively to the monkey... Did you know that a lot of people would do some interesting things just to talk to an angel?”

“Yeah, well I don't have to do anything and I can talk to God.”

“But not in person.”

“...touché.”

“OK then, lay it on me. What stuff do you have going on?”

“I had my period yesterday really bad and--”

“Oh no, God is calling  me back. Wow, this rarely happens. Sorry. I'll see you later.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: BlueRuin on December 21, 2010, 04:12:30 AM
Writing Prompt: Dialogue

That was a fun exercise. Here's my attempt.

================================================

"One thousand forty-one, one thousand forty-two, one thousand forty-three-"

"It breathed. Its chest just moved; I saw it."

"Dammit, Roy, you made me lose count. Now we have to start all over again. Hand me another syringe."

"It's breathing. It's not dead. We gotta get out of here…n-n-not safe."

"Every damn time we come out here you-"

"The claw just twitched! Please Joss; I'm telling you it's-"

"It's postmortem reflex. Happens sometimes. Watch the thermometer, kid; body temp is 119 degrees and dropping steadily. There's no way it's living with a body temp that low."

"No. It's alive. We just stunned it. It's gonna jump up, tear us to smithereens, it's gonna…eat us."

"For the last time, there's nothing left - just a burned out husk. The pupils are non-responsive. Look."

"ARGH! Don't touch its eyes! What the hell's wrong with you?"

"That' s it. I'm done. You hear that Captain? I'm finished. Get him another line of work."

"You can't do that; I've got a family. Harvesting pays the best and you know it."

"Then stop freaking out over every twitch. You're driving me crazy."

"But it moved, Joss. I'm not making it up. That. Thing. Moved."

"Look, I don't want to be out here any more than you do, but we have to get this done. It's important."

"Let's go find another one. There's always another one. Please, Joss…"

"I just need 120 seconds, Roy. We'll draw the spinal fluid then we'll get back where it's safe, and we won't have to come back for two months. Can you do that?  Can you give me 120 seconds? Now, hand me the syringe, and we'll get back to work."

"J-Joss?"

"I said hand me the damn syringe."

"JOSS!"
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Ambri on December 21, 2010, 07:11:55 AM
The Dialog Exercise

My first post here.  Hope I'm doing this right. 

"Good Points"



"Hades. They really worked you over, didn't they?"

"Dam star-cursed sons of--"

"Whoa, careful. Here, let me help you.  Easy now.  Sit."

"Ouch. Fraggin' . . ."

"Nothing looks broken, at least."

"Yeah, no thanks to those damned cully.  They're all the same, whichever side you're on."

"So it seems."

"Thanks.  What're you in here for, miss . . .?"

"Mai.  Call me Mai."

"Just Mai?"

"Mai Kalir-en janaika Reenah te Delo eka Khai Desh-jalaam, if you prefer."

"Ah.  'Just Mai,' it is, then.  I'm Rob.  Robert Kowalski.  You don't look like a soldier."

"Don't I?  I was, once.  When I had something to fight for."

"Like?"

"A home.  A people.  It does not matter; it was a long time ago."

"A long time ago?  That's not possible; you're just a kid."

"Truly, I was never 'just a kid.'  Not like your people."

"My people?  You're not of the GDA?"

"Not until recently. We were members of your alliance for so little time that it hardly matters.  It is not important.  How did you come to be here?"

"I-I, Hades, I don't really know anymore.  I think I was sent to . . . infiltrate something, I think.  And I got caught.  Or betrayed. Those thrice-cursed interogators spent the last few weeks taking my psyche apart and putting it together again.  All that’s left is bits and pieces.  Like broken glasstene.  The pieces are jagged;  they stab at me when I try to put them back together in the right order.  Or maybe it's like that egg, the one they couldn't put back together again."

"You seem to possess a finely honed version of what they call 'gallows humor.'"

"It's either laugh, or go crazy.  You never did tell me why you're in here."

"You won't believe me."

"Try me."

"Very well.  I'm a witch."

"Right.  You gonna offer me a poisoned Caldaran apple, or something?"

"No one believes me, at first.  It seems your people are as ignorant of the magic of my people as mine were of your modern technology."

"If you're magic, why are you in here?"

"Had no where else to go."

"Anywhere's better than this."

"You haven't seen some parts of the city, have you?"

"Touche." 

"Where are you from?"

"Why?"

"I am curious about other worlds.  I have seen very little of the galaxy."

"I'm from Ky--wait.  This is a trap.  You're trying to trick me into telling you.  I won't! Fraggin' cully.  No, I said!  Get out of my fraggin' mind, you--"

"Robert!  Stop, you'll hurt yourself.  Hold still."

"Let me go! I've already told you.  I don't know anything."

"There now.  Easy.  I'm just going to help the pain a little. . . That's right.  There we go.  Ancestors' blood, what have they done to you?"

"Mai--?"

"Yes, I'm here.  It's all right.  I wish I could do more.  You need a sha-saidah.  A healer.  My innersight is not strong enough to see how to fix all the damage.  I am sorry."

"Dead gods.  You really are a witch, aren't you?  Or an Esper."

"Yes."

"Witches, healers . . . like somethin' outta an old spacer's tale.  What happened to your people?"

"We got caught up in your war. Destroyed."

"I'm sorry."

"It does not matter."

"Of course it does.  I--"

"What is that?"

"Siren.  Alarm of some kind."

"But what does it mean?"

"Hades if I know.  'Defenses compromised.  Kill all prisoners,' maybe."

"That is not funny."

"Laugh at death, remember?"

"I can't.  If I start, I won't ever stop.  I'll laugh and laugh till my voice gives out and all light of reason leaves my eyes."

"Well.  Maybe it's a good siren."

"When was the last time you heard a 'good' siren?"

"Good point.  I just hate good points, don't you?"
 
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: doseyclwn on December 21, 2010, 08:17:22 AM
   “She can hear us!”
   “No she can’t!”
   “Yes she can, look at her. She’s looking right at me.”
   “No she's not. She just sees a dumb animal.”
   “Shut up.”
   “So sad! Why are they always so sad when they hear us! Most of them think they’re crazy!”
   “Most of them are. You know that.”
   “I like this one.”
   “I don’t. She has a darkness about her.”
   “You would too if you had something terrible like that happen to you.”
   “What happened? Can you tell?”
   “No. I just know something bad happened.”
   “What are we going to do about it?”
   “Do? Nothing!”
   “We never do anything!”
   “I wish we could do something. I wish she wasn’t so sad.”
   “Do you think she sees us?”
   “No, no, she’s too busy...Doing whatever that is she's doing. I’ve never understood why the big ones would do that. Water is fine like it is!”
   “But they all do that, or most of them anyway.”
   “Some of them just fall asleep after drinking the dark rotten-smelling water.”
   “That's not rotten-smelling or dark. I think it is something else.”
   “I hope she doesn’t eat us. Does she have anything to eat? I haven't seen it yet.”
   “I haven't seen it either.”
   “Maybe she does want to eat us. She's got to be hungry.”
   “She is! I can tell! Let's go!”
   “I do wish you’d stay. I’m not going to eat you, and I’d be appreciative of the company.”
   “Were you talking to us?”
   “Yes, I was,” said Naoren, forcing a thin smile that probably wasn't too convincing. “I’d offer you a bit of tea, but it’s probably too hot for you.”
   “Tea! That’s what it is. Smells good, though it does look a bit hot.”
   “Of course its hot, ninny-brain. It’s been in the fire for awhile.”
   “Shut up. I was just being nice.”
   “I don't have much food, or I’d offer you something to eat
   “Don’t be silly. We probably wouldn’t eat it anyway.”
   “Do you have names?  I’m not sure what to call you.”
   “Why would we need those?”
“Yeah, why do you need to ‘call’ us anything?”
   “Well, what do you call yourselves?”
   “Why do we need to call each other anything?”
“I simply talk to the one I need to talk to. If I need to talk to another one, I go talk to that other one.”
   “Sometimes,  the big ones can be so funny!”
   “Yes, and confusing, too!”
   “You don’t mind if we stay here for a bit, do you?”
   “Yes, you are quite warm.”
   “Yes, we’d like to stay if that’s alright with you.”
   “Oh, goodness yes! I haven’t had any company for quite some time.”
   “It would be our pleasure.”
   “Yes, quite!”
   “Tell me, have you talked with any other ‘big ones’, ones like me?”
   “We see them from time to time.”
“Maybe not lots, but we do see them.”
   “Do any of them ever talk back to you?”
   “Sometimes.”
   “Most of the time, they don’t pay any attention to us.”
   “Yes, most of the time, even when we know they can here us.”
   “Yes, we know.”
   “We most certainly do.”
   “Sometimes, they drink this funny yellow liquid that makes the laugh and not make sense.”
   “Yes, even moreso than normal big ones.”
   “Yes, quite!”
   “That would be ale, I suppose. It does make us talk funny after a fashion.”
   “Did you want to ask us something else, she?”
   “Yes, did you?”
   “You can, you know.”
   “We know you want to, it’s okay.”
   “Yes, you can. It won't upset us.”
   “No, no it won't. Not like you think it will.”
   “Go ahead and ask us.”
   “We don't mind.”
   “Really, we don’t!”
   “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?!?!?”
   “I was wondering if you saw a man, all in black, and a young boy pass through here.”
   “What, did you see something? Did you see them? What did you see?”
   “We don’t want to tell you.”
   “No we don't.”
   “We really don’t.”
   “Please don't make us.”
   “Why don’t you want to tell me? It can't make things any worse for me. Please, just tell me.”
   “We saw them.”
   “The ones you’re looking for.”
   “The big ones.”
   “The one in black and the smaller one.”
   “They were here.”
   “I’m sorry to react so, it’s just that I didn’t expect to hear of them so soon. Was the boy well?”
   “Boy?”
   “What's a boy?”
   “He would have been the smaller one. He is lost. Well, not lost, not really. He was stolen by the big one and I'm trying to get him back.”
   “Is the little one your cub?”
   “Is he?”
   “Yes, in a way I guess he is. Tell me, was he okay?”
   “Yes, he was fine.”
   “He was okay.”
   “Well, I’m not sure.”
   “Come to think of it, neither am I.”
   “He wasn't happy.”
   “I think he wanted you.”
   “He kept asking for you.
   “The other one was sad, too.”
   “He wasn't happy.”
   “He felt bad.”
   “We could tell.”
   “Yes, we could tell.”
   “Good. I hope he rots in the deepest of the five hells. There is a special place for him there.”
   “I think he would agree with you.”
   “Yes, we would.”
   “We didn’t like him at all.”
   “No, not at all.”
   “But we must be going now.”
   “We’re not really supposed to talk to you.”
   “We wouldn’t want to get in trouble.”
   “No, we wouldn’t.”
   “Will I see you again.”
   “Perhaps we will.”
   “I hope you find your cub.”
   “Come back if you do.”
   “Yes, please come back.”
   
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: sceneTK421 on December 21, 2010, 09:43:23 PM
Well, there should be some feedback up here. Let me start it off. This is for amurderofcrows.

Being thrown into that universe really worked. I didn't find myself confused or floundering at all. You had enough things grounded in our world that made your made-up things interesting and it kept me reading. I like how you just let the context speak. No, 'let me stop and explain what Shreiktalking is', but an implied, 'you will know when it is time'. I felt in good hands. And a nod to 'They're Made Out of Meat' at the end? Nice.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: junestormcrow on December 21, 2010, 10:00:27 PM
Finished this the day he posted it, but got distracted introducing myself and poking around when I came to put it up here, and forgot. It's here on my blog: http://houseofharnoeth.blogspot.com/2010/12/mr-sandersons-dialogue-challenge.html, text below. Everyone did well, though a few were a bit long in the tooth sentence-wise. BlueRuin-short, to the point, and actiony, I liked it a lot.

"The world is full of decay."

"We shouldn't add to it then."

"It's not our decision."

"Then who's is it?"

"You know."

"I don't know."

"No, you know. Don't make me say it."

"But I don't know!"

"It doesn't matter Charlie, we need to do our job."

"For a boss I don't even know?"

"Yes. Do as I say son."

"But not as you do, right? You do it. I'll walk home."

"You cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"You are not old enough to be on your own."

"Oh really? Then why did you lie to Mom?"

"I needed you on this mission."

"Don't you have a partner or something? I thought you were a cop."

"Not exactly."

"What are you than?"

"More like what are we, my son."

"I don't work with you. I'm thirteen. How could I sign up for this?"

"You did not. It is who we are."

"Couldn't Mom help you instead? She's great at killing things. You've seen the garden."

"Your mother will have no part of this."

"Than I won't either."

"You have no choice."

"Why? Because you say so?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"I cannot tell you. You must figure it out on your own."

"Is this some sort of test? I don't do well on those, you know."

"It is not a test. But everyone in our condition has to find their own reasons, their own why."

"It's so beautiful Father."

"I know."

"Can't I keep it?"

"No. Think of how much I am gone. Could we keep all of those? It would not be fair."

"Well, you always say the world's not fair."

"Take it son, your mother is expecting us for dinner."

"I don't know how."

"Touch it. You will see how."

"It's smiling at me."

"It does not belong here, son, do the job."

"I don't want a job!"

"You have as much choice in this as you did in your sex, boy, now do it. I cannot stand to hear it much longer."

"She's laying down, Dad, she knows what's coming."

"Always remember what it is son. Always."

"I don't know what she is! I just know she's beautiful!"

"You have to do it now son."

"Don't touch me! Murder her yourself!"

"Shake it off son. It will all be clear. Let her go."

"No!"

"You have to do this. You chose to care for it. I told you to close off your mind."

"I won't! You'll have to kill us both!"

"Please don't make me end it, my son. Find your power, end it yourself, please."

"You're choking me!"

"You must see reason. Take its life. They cannot be allowed to stay."

"But-she's-so-beautiful-her-mind-the answers-"

"Do what you have to do or I will have to."

"All-right-father-I-see."

"What do you see?"

"The poisoned-heart-it's-black-I'll-"

"And what do you see now son?

"The world is full of decay."
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Tocath on December 21, 2010, 11:36:11 PM
One more for the grist mill:

Agent Wicks is dead, sir

“I think I found Agent Wicks, sir”

“Excellent.   What took him so long to check back in?”

“Well, he hasn’t checked in sir.  I think Wicks is dead.”

“Dead?  How do you know?”

“ I was scanning the Times this morning and found him.  Here, look on page 2.  Yesterday, this was an article about a society wedding in Brooklyn, but this morning when the timelines synched, it changed to an article about a boy who found a body beneath the swamp ice in Orange, New Jersey.”

“Swamp ice?”

“Yessir.”

“Did he have a bad teleport?”

“I don’t know sir.  The article says that a young boy was sledding on the frozen swamp and saw a human hand sticking up through the ice.  The police had to chop Wicks out with axes.   They think he was walking on the ice and just fell in.”

“My God.  Are we certain that it’s Wicks?”

“The article mentions his synchrometer sir.  It’s how they identified him. The article calls it a gold pocketwatch and talks about the inscription on the back with his name.”

“Dammit.  Get Trumble on the phone.  We’re going to need to send a retrieval unit.  Congress will shut us down in a heartbeat if they catch wind of another artifact contamination.  Where would his body and the watch be now?”

“The article says they took the body to Kunz’s Morgue.   I’m looking now for any mention of it in the database.  This might take a moment.”

“Wicks was married, wasn’t he?”

“Yessir.”

“That’s going to be ugly.”

“Yessir…   Here it is.  The address for the morgue from the county tax roll.  At the corner of Norfolk and Orange street.  The address should still be the same.  I’ll forward it on to Trumble. “

“Good.  Let’s talk mitigation.  Where was Wicks on his objectives?”

“You saw his last report, right?”

“Yes, but I haven’t had time to read it.  I’m managing a sticky situation with the Italian and Turk teams right now.”   

“Here’s the quick version, then.  Wicks was on hold with the project, waiting for the New York primary.  He had the false ballots prepared and was ready to make the swap in about a week and a half.  Those ballots should all be at the safe house in Albany.”

“ Have you thought at all about Wicks’ replacement?”

“I was thinking that Agent Martin could transfer out to the field and pick up where Wicks left off.”

“Wait,  Carlos Martin or Mike Martin?”

“Mike.”

“Listen, the decision is yours, but I have a concern about Mike. I don’t think he sees the connections.  You need to make him understand just how mission critical the New York office is.  If Taft wins New York, the Republican party will split too early, and if the party splits early, Roosevelt won’t stand a chance at the convention, and if Roosevelt isn’t nominated, he won’t win the White House, and America won’t enter the war until 1917.”

“Sir, I understand the complexities, you don’t have to make the point to me.  Trust me to make sure that Agent Martin understands as well.”

 “Ok.  It’s just that Mike has struggled with fieldwork, and he’s not subtle or detailed.  If we botch the ballot switch, we’ll have to scramble to make this happen.  All of the pieces have to align perfectly if we’re going to….”

“Yessir, I know.”

“Ok, I’ll just let you handle it then.  …   Oh, and Jack?  Send Mrs. Wicks some flowers.”

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: amurderofcrows on December 22, 2010, 08:39:46 AM
Well, there should be some feedback up here. Let me start it off. This is for amurderofcrows.

Being thrown into that universe really worked. I didn't find myself confused or floundering at all. You had enough things grounded in our world that made your made-up things interesting and it kept me reading. I like how you just let the context speak. No, 'let me stop and explain what Shreiktalking is', but an implied, 'you will know when it is time'. I felt in good hands. And a nod to 'They're Made Out of Meat' at the end? Nice.

I'm sort of embarrassed to admit that's the first piece of fiction I've cranked out in MONTHS and it wasn't even quite five pages long and it's terribly unedited/cleaned up. But I have to say I appreciate the kind words, and I sort of feed on them at the moment. 

I do note-- the 'They're Made Out Of Meat' nod was entirely unintentional and I didn't even think about it until you pointed it out. I've read the story before this particular exercise, but the world I'm building that you get a glance at in  The Super-- well, 'Meat's a very standard slang term there for a baseline human from anyone who isn't -- baseline, human, or otherwise.

Still, thank you. Praise--and criticism -- is like sunshine and water for a budding writer. So water a writer today. ;)
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Guinevere on December 23, 2010, 01:24:35 AM
Prompt: Write a five- to ten-page two-character dialogue with no tags or blocking. Try to evoke character, conflict, and plot using only dialogue. Include: a problem, two distinct individuals, a fantasy/sf element. Avoid: long monologues, exposition. Use context, not explanations.

I know this is late, and it doesn't really count anymore, but I promised myself I would finish and post it. Technically, there are three characters, but only two main ones.  It encompasses only the dialogue of the first chapter of a novel.

“Excuse me, ma'am.  There's a Lazarus Brown to see you.”

“Thank you, Mary.  Show him in.”

“I would very much like a cup of tea, miss.”

“Ma'am?”

“Yes.  Tea, please, Mary.  Please be seated, Mr. Brown. You must have been quite close to arrive so quickly.”

“Yes.  It is imperative we do so.  You understand.  We place our satellite offices centrally in each city for that very reason.”

“Yes, I see. I imagine it would be rather embarrassing to chase down a pregnant lady simply because you weren't close enough when the pouch turned red.”

“Surely not embarrassing for the government.  For the woman, perhaps tragic is a better word.  Few pregnancies last without the Capital's intervention, and the women who believe running is a good option would be wise to remember that.  What a depressing topic to begin our first meeting.   You have a lovely home, Mrs. Simmons. Let us talk about that. You seem to have quite a taste for the latest fashions.”

“Thank you. The man at the shop called that one a 'photogram.'  He explained the process to me.  He seemed rather impressed by its innovation.”

“And you?”

“I'm intrigued, of course.  I was drawn to the shapes; that's why I bought it.  But I can't help but wonder how much more is possible...though I'm no artist.”

“I understand your husband is in the Royal Space Fleet.  A captain, I think.”

“Yes, that's right.  How kind of you to inquire after him.  Currently, he's on a mission out in the West Sector. We both know who is out there this time of year.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you, Mary.  Mr. Brown, how do you take your tea?”

“One sugar, light cream, please.  Thank you, miss.”

“That will be all, Mary.  Wait.  Please bring me a seltzer water to calm my stomach.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I wonder what will happen to her when I'm gone.  Do you care for them—the servants, I mean?”

“We find that most servants are rather content while their mistress is away. Their quality of life usually tends to...increase.”

“I'm not one of those, Mr. Brown. My taste in art may reflect the popular fashion, but I can assure you that the treatment of my servants does not.”

“I apologize if I've offended you, Mrs. Simmons. I meant to say that we assure they are well looked after in your absence.”

“And am I assured to be well looked after as well?”

“This hostility is uncalled for. I think you are forgetting that I am not the enemy. It will make both our lives extremely difficult if you continue to act otherwise.”

“Mr. Brown—”

“I think we are finished here, for now. You have one hour to collect your necessary belongings. Please remember to pack lightly, and only for the trip. Once we reach the Capital, we can easily procure anything else you require. Do you understand these instructions?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, then, I will wait for you here. Please have your maidservant bring more tea.”

“Mr. Brown, if I may speak boldly. I understand how important children born these days are to you and your superiors. I've seen that it is enough to terrify the women in every city on this planet. Do not mistake me: I will accompany you, because I have no choice, but please do not delude yourself into thinking that I give a damn about you and your policies. This child belongs to me and my husband—not to the Council of Royals, and most definitely, not to you.”

“Duly noted.  Now go.  You are wasting time we don't have.”

“Mary... No, I won't be needing the seltzer anymore. Put it down. There is no time. You will bring Mr. Brown more tea, and then you will promptly join me in my chambers to help me pack my things. I must go with him.”

“Ma'am, I know tisn't my place, but...”

“Yes, Mary.  It turned red just this morning. We'll be saying goodbye soon, you and I.”

“But Mr. Simmons!  He won't be home until—”

“That is my obstacle to overcome.  Mary, please, don't look so frightened.  All will be well.  But for now, haste is of the utmost importance. Go, quickly.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Kessler on December 23, 2010, 01:27:47 AM
Well, I guess I can try my hand in critisim.

MirandaBlaineMann

Actually I just liked this dialog. It was pretty powerful, natural, established setting and conflict.

batik

I like how the opening sentence sets the dialog around ''Right or Left''. There is pretty good dynamic in the beginning as the two people shoot at each other these quick arguments. The meaning of ''left and right'' changes from the position of the handle to direction of flight, being right or not having any time left.
I think the dialog loses some of its dynamic and sharpness, compared to the opening sentences. I think it would benefit, If the author could keep the same tempo and emphasized the different ''lefts'' and ''rights'' characters use a bit more.    

Amurderofcrows

I like how initially the reader is mislead by a golem being called a ''red man'' and generally the story that would involve golems. The line that I disliked a little, was
Quote
"Anybody ever told you you got a — kinda flat way about you? Don't laugh much, ain't cracked a smile. You do smile, right? Red Men smile? I can't say I ever met one of you before."

It just doesn't feel right to me that such personal judgment can be made after a brief exchange and the golem didn't have much reasons to smile at that point. I can imagine a human handyman acting in the same reserved way. Perhaps it would be better to have a line establishing that golems generally are unemotional or move it to a later point in conversation as well as adding a joke that golem completely ignores.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: amurderofcrows on December 23, 2010, 07:44:42 AM
Amurderofcrows

I like how initially the reader is mislead by a golem being called a ''red man'' and generally the story that would involve golems. The line that I disliked a little, was
Quote
"Anybody ever told you you got a — kinda flat way about you? Don't laugh much, ain't cracked a smile. You do smile, right? Red Men smile? I can't say I ever met one of you before."

It just doesn't feel right to me that such personal judgment can be made after a brief exchange and the golem didn't have much reasons to smile at that point. I can imagine a human handyman acting in the same reserved way. Perhaps it would be better to have a line establishing that golems generally are unemotional or move it to a later point in conversation as well as adding a joke that golem completely ignores.


I guess the 'state assisted living' / 'what passes for it' line didn't come off as clear enough humor-- because that was the joke he didn't smile at. :(
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: sceneTK421 on December 24, 2010, 01:22:55 AM
Writing Prompt: Take an idiomatic expression and
make it literal (not as a pun.) For instance,
“the crack of dawn” as an actual crack in the
sky through which dawn’s light shines.



   So we tracked it. This Akt. It was an old one. All big and hairy, with a bulbous head and all his plumaj sacks, dry and hard. Hanging there like drooping rocks. Hanging off its everywhere. You would think following one when they're old and dried out would be easy, but I swear to you that they get wiley and quick when they stiffen. They have their armour now. They get mean. I guess I would get mean too if I were old and being hunted, but then again I wouldn't have been eating babies, especially one in a golden crib with the sceptre eye pinned to it.  Not that we were after revenge for the babies, we were after the Akt purging ground.

   Five had died so far because of the Akt. I count my dog Edd in the five. And I'm counting Joessie too. I'm not so sure that the Akt got Edd, I think he may have run off with the wolves. Edd was always a bit more wild than the other dogs, so there's that hope.  And Joessie died of eating hartbraek (which looks just like a blood apple, smells like one too, but will kill ya half way through that second bite). The other three, Nack, Grayse, and Bul, were killed by the Aktomauf. There was this spray of people juice when they were gotten. Everywhere. Then nothing was left except for Juff's shoes. With bits of his feet in there. And mysterious wads and chunks, both human and not, scattered about.  But that happened was when Nack was leading.

   Now the rest of us, the ones who had lived the whole eight days, were finishing breakfast and eyeing the horizon. It became something to fear this far north. It was so close to the Gods, that you could hear Dahn being punished by Zuusc. Every morning before the morning light you could hear it.  Then the light of morning would come, as a small apology for the horrors Zuusc brought upon the world. Jereny looked at the horizon, saw it dancing, and covered his ears. Saecey saw it right off too, covered hers and buried her head. And then everyone was covering their ears. Some may have made the mistake to listen when we first got this close, but none were that stupid now.

   And it hit.

   The cracks of each bone in Dahn's half mortal / half Godle body racked the sunvirgin sky. Wicked cracks. Splinters. White flecks fell against the sky. Flashes. Thin sticks of bone. Dust. The smell of calcium, lightning, and blood pulsed with each break. And then the smell of morning whipped through the camp. And it was over. Many gave a prayer that Dahn had had her voice removed so many years ago. Others a prayer to Zuusc for being merciful enough to stop the torture and let the day reign. These horrid sounds ever'morning now. What a fitting way to begin our daily stalking of a creature that would probably kill everyone in our party if we ever had the misfortune to catch it.

   I took my leave this morning, as I did every day this week, to walk away from everyone. Just after breakfast. After the break of the bones. I took out the two letters and hung them in the blumetree. One from her. One from him. I backed up far enough that my arm could show no preference and pulled the Lough Stone out of my pocket. I shut my eyes, threw it, and when I heard it hit, opened them again. The note on the right was glowing soft yellow then orange in a small circle, then faded. Same as every day. The note from him. The Lough Stone answered my question the same ever'morning. I should be protecting him. But I couldn't help it. I had to protect her. Even if everything was telling me otherwise. Besides, he could protect himself. He wasn't too bad with a knife. And he had a sword. And a hatchet... Damned, how could I protect them both?



This was made up of three idioms.
If you didn't catch them they were:

A hard act to follow.
The crack of dawn.
Hit the right note.

I had a fun time with this one. Thanks Dan! (I think he came up with this one)
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: MannyBrainpan on December 27, 2010, 05:53:50 AM
I figured although no one is giving feedback, I did read a few so I will. I read a few dialogue exercises from page 5.

AndreaGS yours is great! Although it became a little confusing here and there, (it was the boy/girl name changes that got me) the concept of the blood that turns into fire is great and could be a good starting point for some seriously fresh world building. And if you are going for a medieval yet understandable sorta feel for your dialogue, cut the contractions.

Dhalagirl, yours is also very good too. In my mind I imagine it as a sort of Tron (even without all of the commercial reminders) techno-ized world. The storyline of obtaining all of these clues that you seem to be setting up would be good for a YA novel, because of the simplicity of it (it seems kinda like a video game info briefing). Although, I have no idea how you will be executing it, so I might be judging to quickly. The only thing was that the dialogue by itself was confusing due to the fact that we didn't know who had which nickname, at first.

Randomaximus, yours was good, especially for being new to writing.  I can see where the whole "I'll give the money away" ego is going and could be interesting. Two things though, it seems that you tried to show that these two guys are average American guys who talk like average Americans. But in dialogue the "dude"s and "man"s are a bit repetitive. Also, I don't know if you intended to explain the whole ghost concept, but in the dialogue it isn't clear. Also, good idea to jump on the MMA craze.

Snuren, yours is also funny and creative. Just like any dialogue, you can get lost between who is speaking, but the silliness of some parts made me forget that it mattered who was speaking.

I hope any of you writers out there will benefit from this- in a creative or motivational sense. And it was good fun reading other un-published writer's works. I'm glad there is a place where we can all promote each other in writing skills. I will definitely be posting more writing prompts from future posts and podcasts.
-Manny (http://www.brainpan.webs.com and http://www.cafepress.com/brainpanstore)
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: ioMu on December 28, 2010, 03:35:52 PM
I've found it!  I've been wondering where all the prompt replies ended up.
Here's mine: (I combined it with this week's challenge)

Famous Jason

“You can’t do that.”

“What the?…I didn’t see you.”

“That doesn’t matter. You still can’t do that. Not out here.”

“Right. Like who’s gonna see in a dark alley?”

“I see. Very clearly. You couldn’t do that inside?”

“Why are you out here anyway?”

“I’m always out here. They could fine you for that. ”

“Hey. That’s famous pee right there"

“You famous? I don’t recognize you. ”

“You ever see a nobody make famous pee? ”

“I’m not into watching people pee so I couldn’t tell you what famous pee looks like.  So, who are you?  You come from the club? You’re a DJ…you must be.  You look like a DJ. ”

“I’m on a much higher plane than that. ”

"I got it. You're a painter.  Painters all think their pee is famous. This must be your latest work."

"Don't paint"

“Look towards the street light.  No, still don’t recognize you. Are you one of those dot com people?”

“No. I have a nice website, though.”

“I was serious, you know…it’s a crime in New York.”

“Make a citizen’s arrest.”

“Tell me who you are.”

“Like I said, I’m on a different plane.  You wouldn’t recognize me.”

“Athlete? Scratch that. Definitely not an athlete. Chess! You the next Bobby Fisher? I play a little chess. I’m not bad either”

“I’m a writer. A famous writer”

“Nice goin’. What did you write? No...let me guess.  DaVinci Code? ”

“Nothing like that. You heard of DragonMount? ”

“No. Doesn’t sound like something I’d be interested in.”

“Like I said…”

“Yeah, I know, It’s on a higher plane.  You didn’t tell me your name. ”

“Jason… Jason Denzel. ”

“Jason, you’re under arrest.”

“Ha ha. Is this your citizen’s arrest? ”

“No. This is my detail and you just pee’d  all over it. ”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“I don’t kid. You know, you’ve just made my night. I’ve always wanted to arrest someone famous. ”

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: junestormcrow on December 28, 2010, 07:13:51 PM
Hilarious ioMu. I could tell there were two different characters and the setting was implied well. Thanks for giving me the giggles.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Rand8203 on December 29, 2010, 03:01:55 AM
Brandon Sanderson's Dialogue Exercise

This is my first time attempting a writing prompt or exercise, any feedback or comments is welcomed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What are you doing?

Making a way, we need to deliver this package.

No, No, No.  I don’t think we should be doing this.  You know as well as I do that we aren’t supposed to change things where people may notice.

Well, what do you suggest!  Are we and all our friends and family at the Forgotten Sons Orphanage supposed to go hungry so some random person won’t see this?  Now don’t worry that much this will only be temporary.  I will make it so it will last long enough to allow us to get in and get out.  Besides no one travels these back alley streets at this time in the morning.

I still don’t know…It just doesn’t seem right.  Oh, wait maybe we can come back later.

No, that won’t work we need to have the packaged delivered before the mid morning bells ring.  Alright let’s do this.

Eek, take your hand off the wall!  I think I heard someone at the other end of the alley.

Too late, it has already been done and would you look at that a perfect set of ledges if I do say so myself.  Well time is wasting, I say we got about an hour to get up to that 3rd floor window, deliver the package, and get back out before the ledges evanescence.  Let’s go.

Ah man, what should I do?  I don’t think we should do this…ahhhhh wait for me.  How did you get so high already?

Well at the first ledge I ran and jumped and caught the ledge of the second ledge.  Then while hanging there instead of climbing up I put my foot on the bottom part of the ledge and jumped backward.  While I was in the air I spun and caught the next ledge.  Pretty awesome I know.  Hurry up we need to get in and out.

***

Here take my hand.  Good, I got you now climb up.  Alright we are in…Do you know where the Grand Kai’s rooms are?

What!  You mean you came in here without a plan?  We are going to be in such trouble.

Relax. We got some time, let’s search this floor.  You start on that side.

Nothing in these last three rooms, but storage.  How will we know the Grand Kai’s room when we get there?

Good question…I think the room will be GRAND…he he he.

This isn’t funny we shouldn’t have done this.  How did I let you talk me into doing this?  We are...

…going to be in such trouble.  Yes, I know you have said that once or twice already.   Did you see that at the end of the hallway?  I think it was the Grand Kai’s headdress.  I bet if we follow it we will find the Grand Kai’s room.  Let’s follow and be quite.

***

Alright, that is the door.  Get ready we are going to sneak in the next time someone comes out.

Are you sure that is a good idea?

Do you have a better one?  As soon as we place the package in the room the room or the Grand Kai’s hands the binding will release and our contract will be fulfilled.  What happens when we fulfill a contract?

We get paid, and then we eat.

Right, but all of our friends and family at the Forgotten Sons Orphanage will be able to eat to.  Here comes someone from the room.  Go now, quite as a mouse.

Whew, we didn’t get caught.  Quickly find the place and put the package there.  Wait, is it that desk over there?

Yes, I can see the glow.  Give me a moment to get over there without disturbing the piles of filth in this room.  I mean you would think the Grand Kai could have someone clean up to keep up a Grand appearance.  We would have never had found this place if it was not for the headdress in the hallway.  There, now to complete the transaction; ‘The package has been delivered, the binding has been fulfilled, the payment is due, the binding released.’  It feels good to be free of the binding again.  Although I could do without the blinding light of the breaking, however the sound is new.

The sound is not part of the breaking.  It is an alarm!

Ok…it will be ok…let’s RUN, back to the window!

Eek!

Quickly, fall to your knees and slide under the barrier.  Whew we made it.  Get up we need to keep moving before we get trapped in this hallway.

I’m moving as fast as I can.  What is that at the end of the hallway?

Huh?  That is our exit…Mother of Pear!  They are closing a barrier at the window too!  Move it or we are really going to be in trouble. 

We aren’t going to make it.  We shouldn’t have come into the Grand Kai’s Fortress without permission. 

Keep running we can make it if we jump.  Take my hand, keep running, and JUMP!

Ahhhhhhhh, but we are three stories up!

***

Cough.  Cough.  Are we in sand?

Yeah, it was the first thing I thought of to soften our landing.  What do you say we get back to the orphanage before they notice that we got away. 

Yeah let’s go.


Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: ioMu on December 29, 2010, 07:01:52 AM
Thank you June. Enjoyed yours as well. Especially the line about gardening.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Rand8203 on December 30, 2010, 12:19:09 AM
You are walking down a back alley, and you meet Jason from DragonMount. He’s getting all uppity about how good his submission was. What do you do to him?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“There you are, Jason!”  I throw a copy of his writing excuses submission at his feet in the muddy puddle of the alley.  “I suppose your proud of yourself.”  I watch as a self satisfied smile etched creep across his face.  His attitude of late has been so smug and cocky it has been utterly infuriating.  “Wipe that look off your face.”

“Why should I?” Jason asked. “Who wouldn’t be proud after receiving accolades from our Masters at the Writing Excuses guild.  Are you trying to suggest that I do not deserve the praise?”  He bent down and picked up his entry and took a moment to shake off some of the muddy water.  “You have read the submission, right?  I think the submission speaks for itself.  No need to be jealous over my success and wait…Did the masters shun your submission?  Ah that would make sense, you are just lashing out at me due to your own failure.  Well, I can’t say I blame you.  However, I’m not heartless for a small fee I could review some of your writings and give you some pointers.  How does that sound?”

“You uppity bastard!  This is not about me it is about you and that attitude of yours.  It is rubbing everyone in the guild raw.  Have you not wondered why anyone hardly talks to you anymore, and it’s not because they are jealous of your talents.  They cannot take your ‘I am so great’ so I look down upon you manner.”  In my frustration I look way from Jason and glanced down the alley and saw something move in the shadows behind Jason.

“You know you may be right,” my eyes opened in surprise as Jason spoke.  “I think the rest of the guild deserves the same opportunity that I offered you tonight.  I will announce it tomorrow during self study, I thank you for helping me to realize that I should share my talents with the entire guild.”  As these words hung in the air, three shadows lunged at Jason and restrained him.

“Jason,” call a voice from a hooded individual slipping out of the shadows.  “We at the guild are done with you and your conceited attitude.”  I could not place the voice, but it sounded familiar.  “Not only have you alienated all of your student brethren, but you have angered the most of the guild members, including one of the masters.  The only reason we had not acted until now was due to the favor you had with the masters.  However, that no longer matters as the guild has voted to punish you and it was approved by a master.”

“Wait a minute.  Hey don’t put that on me.  I was just talking with neophyte here and he has helped me to see the error of my ways.  Tell them!”  Jason pleaded.

The hooded leader asked, “Is that correct, neophyte?”

I took a long look at the hooded men holding Jason in place and their choose speaker.  They had a manner that suggested that this was just business, bearing not malice towards Jason.  I looked back to Jason and took a long time peering into his eyes.  As I looked Jason found something in my face that he thought was encouraging and let a smirk briefly cross his face.

I turned the hooded leader and said, “I don’t know this man, I was just asking him a question about his submission.” I waved my hand to Jason’s submission that sat soggy in the muddy puddle.

With that the look on Jason’s face changed from self assured confidence to utter terror and he screamed.  Then the hooded men placed a hood over Jason’s head and gloves on his hands.  There was eyes, mouth, and ears painted on the hood placed on Jason’s head.  This was in stark contrast to the plan black hoods the men wore.  The gloves also had hands painted on the back of the gloves.  Jason’s flailed against his restrainers to no avail.

The hooded leader stepped back and began to mutter.  I strained to hear and only caught a few words, “…blind…deafen…mute…relegate to obscurity…”  As the hooded leader spook the painted symbols on the hood and gloves began to glow in a brilliant golden light.  My eyes drifted to the submission soaking up the puddle on the ground of the alley and found the letters on the page began to glowing as well.

The only sound that escaped Jason’s hood was a whimper.  With a final pulse of golden light the hood, gloves, and submission stopped glowing.  Jason’s knees gave out on him and he fell with a splash to his knees.

The submission began to rustle drawing my attention.  I watch in disbelief as the letters ripped themselves off of the page and began to pool on the alley.  Soon the pool of letters began to rise and take shape.  In moments the submission was blank and the pool of letters resolved into the shape of a rat about a foot talk.  As soon as the letters were recognizable as a rat they sprinted out of the alley and turned left.

The hooded leader turned to me as his companions gathered the hood and gloves.  He said, “Let this be a lesson to you neophyte.  Cross the guild, act beyond your station and be wary.  For what the guild teaches you it can take away and more.  Take Jason here for your example.  The guild took his writing away from him.  He will not be able to see letters of his own hand.  He will not be able to hear people speak about his past works.  He will not be able to speak about writing.  As you saw with that submission anything he has written for the guild has be banished.  The guild cannot not make him forget what he has written.  He will forever know what he was, but will never be again.  He will not even be able to express it.  So be warned, do not forget what you saw here today and tell your friends.”

I looked back to Jason sobbing in the puddles of the alley.  That was too much.  I didn’t know that they would do this.  I went to say something to the hooded men, but they had slipped back into the shadows.  What had I allowed to happen?
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: sceneTK421 on December 30, 2010, 08:38:28 AM
@amurderofcrows- No problem. Out of curiosity, have you been building that world for a while, or was it born from this exercise?
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: sceneTK421 on December 30, 2010, 09:40:50 AM
Writing Prompt 5.17: You are walking down a back alley,
and you meet Jason from DragonMount. He’s getting
all uppity about how good his submission was. What
do you do to him?



A Prompt Walk Down a Back Alley ...with Jason from DragonMount

I like to walk down alleys. Especially while I'm trying to think about something to write. They're very inspirational. Dark and rough and... Who was this guy? Some dude standing on an apple box wearing a tux. Whose bow-tie wasn't tied very tight and kind of sagged. I thought he looked familiar, but he had his nose turned up, so I couldn't be sure.

“Do I know you?” I asked him.

“Probably not by sight.”

“You look familiar.”

“Its probably the cadence to how I talk,” he said.

“But you hadn't even started talking until after I asked if I knew you.”

“Do you read?”

“Yes.”

“Do you listen to Writing Excuses?”

“YES.”

“...”

“Wait, are you Jason?”

“From DragonMount”

“So this is... the prompt?”

“Yeah.”

“So this is you being all uppity?”

“Yeah.”

“Good job with the no-eye-contact and the acting as if you're tossing your sentences from the heavens.”

“Thank you.”

“Weird, I thought-- well anyway nice to meet you.”

And...”

“What and?”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Huh?... Oh, right... um... hmmm”

“Come on man, I have my nose in the air, we're in the back alley, do you have any idea how many people I have to meet tonight in similar alleys to have all sorts of things done to me?”

“How many?”

“Things or alleys?”

“People.”

“Quite a bit.”

“How many exactly?”

“I don't know exactly. The exact count isn't the point... but there's more than you think.”

“OK, well what do you think I should do?”

“To me? Really? You want me to come up with your ending for you?”

“Who says its the ending?”

“I do.”

“Well don't get so uppity about it.”

“...”

“Oh right. Nice job... Alright, I have a great idea on what to do to you.” I pointed. “Stand on that.”

That was a set of these short rods set in the wall. Wooden stumps hammered in-between the rocks. For what, I had no idea, but there were five of them. Set up in an odd pattern, kind of like a Pachinko machine.

“Which one?”

“The one on the top.”

He climbed up. Through much difficulty. I don't know if it was because he refused to lower his nose for the climb, or if he just wasn't an “outdoor activities” kid, but it took him a about five minutes to finally get up there. And of course when he did he popped his chest out. Proud.

I promptly shoved him.

His arms spun in a big flourish of clumsiness. Then his left leg slipped out and hit one of the pegs below. He kind of saved himself in lunge position for a second, but then his other leg went the other way. He banged his shins. Wobbled. Then steadied himself and stood.

“Was that it?” He asked me.

“Yes.”

“What was the point of that?”

“I knocked you down a few pegs.”

His smile returned, that stupid half smile. With his nose literally in the air. He stood as straight as that silly tie sagged. But now he was restored to the height of his uppity-ness. Ready for whatever somebody was going to do to him next.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: lewaah on December 30, 2010, 10:54:07 PM
Hopefully no one minds that my first post ever is me being more than a little late with a "Brandon's dialog exercise".  I finally got around to listening to the WE episode today and was inspired to write this.  It's a little more meta than anyone else's that I saw, but maybe that's for the best.  ???  Hope you like it.  For what it's worth, my take on this week's writing prompt involves me turning into an ice driad and eating Jason.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!"

"You're kidding."

"No!  Wait, darn it!  Wait!  Wait!"

"What is it?"

"Dude, we can't just charge off half-cocked like this!"

"Why not?"

"We don't have any descriptors or blocking or attributions or anything.  We don't even have a plot!"

"So?"

"So?  All we have for a setup is this weak infodump and nobody likes that crap."

"Speak for yourself.  I don't seem to be doing any infodumping."

"The author likes you better, I guess.  I seem to be the one stuck with doing all the exposition."

"What exposition?  You're just whining."

"I'm sorry!  You know I don't like starting off without any idea of where we're going."

"It's called discovery writing, spud.  Free association.  Stream-of-consciousness.  Pantsing.  Call it what you will, it's just a way to get your characters out into the world and see where they go."

"Nice infodump."

"Bite me."

"Seriously.  Is it that hard to build an outline?  Give us some structure?"

"Not all writers use outlines.  Stephen King is famous for not using them at all.  He just starts writing and off he goes."

"And look at what comes of it.  Huge, bloated doorstoppers of books that wander all around and don't really go anywhere in the end."

"You can get those from authors who use outlines too."

"Maybe, but when you have an outline you at least have a basic idea of where you're going, don't you think?"

"I've never really thought about it, I guess."

"That's because you haven't been written as a particularly deep thinker like I have."

"Hey!"

"Please.  We're two-dimensional cardboard cutouts who were put here to do nothing but wander around talking to each other about nothing in particular.  This guy's worldbuilding sucks."

"What worldbuilding?"

"That's my point.  Hey!  Give me something to do!"

"It's a dialog exercise, dude!  What else do you want?  We're not in Lord of the bleeding Rings here.  We don't need a world!  It's not like we're going to march off to Mordor or anything like that."

"We could if we wanted to."

"Stop being petulant.  We could not."

"Sure we could."

"No we couldn't.  We can't do anything like that and you know it.  We do what the author wants us to do and that's all."

"I'm not.  I'm going to surprise him."

"What!  You're off your chump.  You're the one who was so desperate for an outline five minutes ago."

"Outline schmoutline.  This guy's obviously a pantser, so we have to work with what we've got."

"Work with what we've got.  I see."

"Don't take that tone with me.  Haven't you ever heard a pantser say that they love discovery writing because the characters can surprise them in so many ways?"

"Um..."

"'I was writing such-and-such and all of a sudden the character wound up going here-or-there and did this-or-that.'  You've heard it."

"Maybe."

"You won't say it because you don't want to admit that I'm right.  Watch.  I'm going to surprise our author.  I'm going to march off to Mordor."

"Mordor?  Seriously?"

"Seriously.  The noble quest is a clichéd trope, I know, but maybe I can bring something new and fresh to it."

"You're new all right, but I'm not sure I'd call you fresh."

"Oh, look who's got jokes."

"I can't imagine you on a quest, that's all.  What are you going to be questing for?"

"Does it matter?  I'm going to Mordor.  If you're lucky I won't bring back an orc to chop your head off."

"That's it, then.  You're really going?"

"I am."

"So go."

"I am."

"When?"

"Right now.  Farewell!"

"'Farewell'?"

"Hush.  I'm living the trope.  I have to talk like that."

"You do not.  You talk the way the author writes you."

"Nonesense, churl, I speaketh however I chooseth to partake of the language without advisement from the divine hand of our illustrious creator."

"Now you've made him mad.  Or gotten him silly.  I'm not sure which would be worse, actually."

"Forsooth!  I do kindly opportune to express my diction in this idiom of my own volition."

"'Opportune'?  Is that even a word?"

"Verily."

"Can he march off to Mordor now?  Please?"
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: datatypel on December 31, 2010, 11:42:38 AM
I really like what everyone has done so far. here's my go.

prompt: two scientists having to deal with  a life changing situation while they are suspended in the sky


“You worried?”

“About what?”

“You are.”

“Your point being?”

“That you don’t know. And you are”

“Neither do you”

“No”



“Well what is your point?”

“That it’s all your fault if it goes wrong.”

“Good one, very reassuring”



“You know that one story”

“Oh yes! now that you have mentioned it, title and all.”

“Don’t be so snide!”

“Or?”



“Okay I get it. Toss it out.”

“You know how in all of those ancient cultures…”

“That’s deep, can you just calibrate the last ones. We have to run these tests for function control.”

“Shut up”

“You’re the one that was talking about ancient civilizations.”

“About how all of those cultures had a story of some old guy and a boat!”

“You are going wack. I have a really tight schedule. I stick to the schedule I get paid. I don’t meet deadlines, I get pain.”

“You’re concern touches my heart.”

“The one you donated to replace your dogs?”

“You like my dog?”



“Those ancient people”

“What about them?”

“Do you really think they all just happened to come up with a story that was all so similar to one another?”

“That is what I was going to ask you”

“You think that it shows a shared history between people”

“No proof, no fact”

“Now you’re going scientist”

“The best way to avoid trouble”

“Demand proof that can’t be provided”

“I am what I am”

“A sicko”

“Learned from you”


“Where’s the proof?”

“You pulled that on purpose”

“Pulled it on you and your method”

“You hating the method?”

“I don’t think it’s so great. Always having to challenge everything, sometimes you just need to accept things without a
question”

“But the method does get you answers”

“The ones you want or the ones that are true?”

“Sometimes both”

“You make it sound so perfect!”

“Oh yeah; that’s the beauty of the scientific method. I mean look at us. We are sitting up here, miles high in the sky. In
our own floating platform. About to do the most important thing in the history for the human race! And most of the
machines and computers that we access were not around just a few years ago. The idea maybe; but the scientist then,
as the scientist now, demands proof”

“Don’t remind me”

“Remind you of what?”

“The floating part”

“You are really afraid of heights”

“I only got this job for the money”

“Well the insurance should take care of your family. That is if this thing doesn’t mess up like it did with the moon.”

“Thank you for bringing up so many of the things that are making me nervous”

“Please. Don’t be honest”

“What?”

“I don’t need any confessions”

“I am not confessing!”

“But you were about to begin delivering some monologue that you have prepared for this occasion about how you wish
you had lived a better life. Had not looked at other women other than your wife, spent time with your children;
worked harder at your job. Been a more honest person.”

“Since you did it for me, that’s a huge relief.”

“Shut up”

“Already told you to do that”

“So?”

“So do it already!”

“Make me”

“Thanks for bringing fourth grade into it”

“Fourth grade? That was like second grade. Is it possible that you were held back a few years by your teachers?

“Funny”

“You laughed”

“When and where?”

“Inside”



“Is this really going to work?”

“We analyzed what went wrong on the moon, from the pieces of the machines themselves we found problems that were
easily solved.”

“So no worries? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“The world needs it. I mean look, mankind is not going to survive much longer unless we somehow change things. We
need to eat for one thing, we need the planet to stop moving around so much so that we can live on the surface. We
need to disperse the acid clouds so that clean rain can fall from the sky. And that’s only part of what needs to happen.”

“And this is supposed to do all of that?”

“Yeah”

“You’re totally convincing”

“Thanks”

“But we could shatter the earth just like we tore apart the moon.”

“Small chance. But this has to be done now. We have taken all the time that we can to put this together. The gain is
worth the risk I think.”

“No one asked you. You’re just a low level scientist that can be blamed if everything goes wrong.”

“I will at least be alive to be blamed. To console you however, this platform is a type three shuttle that can survive in
the vacuum of space. So we will be able to meet the other platforms, be picked up by the Lifeboat and go out on plan ‘F’”

“Kinda sad that so many plans have fallen apart, and more often than not they have torn our world apart. Makes me
worried.”

“Told you that you were”

“Your point?”

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: madelste on December 31, 2010, 03:49:46 PM
Loved the writing prompt sceneTK421, you definitely made me laugh and knocking Jason down a few pegs was a nice touch. 
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: sceneTK421 on January 01, 2011, 01:11:56 AM
Thanks madelste! I'm glad that you read it and I love that you loved it.  :D
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: amurderofcrows on January 02, 2011, 08:55:53 PM
@amurderofcrows- No problem. Out of curiosity, have you been building that world for a while, or was it born from this exercise?

Oh no, it's something I'm hoping to move into publishable territory. It's been with me a while.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: MannyBrainpan on January 02, 2011, 11:31:42 PM
Leewah, your exercise was great. You maintained a decent distinction of characters even though you never said their names. And the only reason I think it worked was because of the conflic between the two. Although at the beginning, the conflict and setup of the conversation is a bit confusing because it jumps right into the self-conscious writing exercise. Plus, anything with a Lord of the Rings reference is instantaneously better.

SceneTK421, your prompt was good too, I thought. The whole "cadence of my voice" thing was especially funny and quickly establishes what is going on with Jason.

-Manny (http://www.brainpan.webs.com and http://www.cafepress.com/brainpanstore)
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: lewaah on January 03, 2011, 12:40:16 AM
Thanks, Manny.  Glad you liked it.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: sceneTK421 on January 03, 2011, 01:20:20 AM

Oh no, it's something I'm hoping to move into publishable territory. It's been with me a while.
Quote

Well, it definitely shows. Luck on that!

Manny- Thanks, I was trying to use my brain-pan.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Perditon on January 03, 2011, 10:39:24 PM
Ok, so I'm new here, though I'm enjoying reading Brandond Sanderson's stuff. I'm trying to become a SF/Fantasy writer myself, and I liked the idea of writing a dialogue only scene. This is inspired by the novel I'm working on, though it doesn't actually occur in the book. After I wrote it, I realized there isn't much fantasy content, though the novel that inspired it is a fantasy novel...anyway, here it is:

**********************************************************

“What happened to your foot?”

“Nothing.”

“But, it’s all black and blue, and your big toe is all swollen!”

“I got into a fight.”

“A fight? That’s ‘nothing’ to you”

“Well, I won!”

“You won- You’re insane!”

“It’s not like I tried to get into a fight! I was jumped from behind as I was enjoying a nice beef sandwich.”

“You were jumped? While eating a beef sandwich? Why?”

“I was hungry.”

“I figured that! Why were you jumped while you were eating a beef sandwich?”

“Well, it could have been because they were hungry. But I’m pretty sure they just wanted the money.”

“The money? What money?”

“The money Jano and I found in the old abandoned house down Chariot Street.”

“Where old Mrs. Hastings lived?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t she die a couple weeks ago?”

“Yeah.”

“And didn’t her kids come by and clear everything out that was usable?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, how did you find money in a cleared out house? Isn’t money generally considered usable?”

“Well, Jano thought it would be fun to go poke around inside. You know, and adventure.”

“That sounds like Jano.”

“Yeah, well, he thought maybe they’d forgotten something, and even if they didn’t, it would give us something to do.”

“So, in this heat, you two were looking for something to do, and rather than going down to the bay and swimming, you decided to break into the home of someone who just died, hoping to find something that was forgotten?”

“Yeah. We were gonna go swimming afterwards.”

“How did you get in? Isn’t it all boarded up?”

“Yeah, but I found a lose board and pulled it off. It was pretty easy to squeeze inside. Especially Jano, he’s so scrawny. I’m beginning to think he’s never going to get his growth spurt.”

“Ok, so you just pulled a board off, and Jano was able to wiggle through. How did you get in? Didn’t anyone walking by on a crowded street say anything?”

“Well, I’m not that much bigger than Jano, I was able to fit in pretty easily, to. I did get this scratch on my arm, though.”

“And then?”

“And then I was inside.”

“Geesh, boys! What did you do once you were inside?”

“Well, I asked Jano to help me with my writing, you know, in the dust on a big table they must have left behind on account of it being so big, you know?”

“Uh huh.”

“And I was able to write my name, though it doesn’t look as pretty as when you showed us.”

“Well, I have a teacher to show me how, you’ll get it eventually, if you just keep at it.”

“How do you stand that?”

“Stand what?”

“Having a teacher to tell you all the things you do wrong all the time?”

“Well, it makes it easier if you don’t keep doing things wrong. And after you start to get it, he starts telling you great you’re doing, and it feels really good.”

“Not when Jano tells me I’m doing good, he always makes it a joke, like, ‘Hey Burin, you’re not half bad if you stick your tongue out and concentrate.’”

“Well, Jano’s just jealous that you reached your growth spurt first.”

“Yeah, he likes to call me ‘Squeaks,’ too.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be squeaking soon, and you’ll still be able to hold him off the ground.”

“Yeah, ha ha.”

“Ok, so, you were in the house writing your name in the dust…did you wipe your name off the table, by the way?”

“No, why?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Lina! Why?”

“Well, it just makes it easy for anyone who goes in there after you to know that you were in there.”

“Oh, yeah, um…”

“Oh, don’t look so scared, you didn’t do anything wrong did you?”

“No! We just went upstairs, and when I got up there, I saw something shining over by the window, in the sunlight, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“It was a whole crown!”

“A crown? As in eight marks?”

“Yeah.”

“As in 192 bits?”

“Um, I guess so?”

“24 bits to a mark, eight bits to a crown. Eight times 24 is 192.”

“If you say so, Lina.”

“I do.”

“Well, we had a whole crown, you know?”

“Yes, you’d mentioned that.”

“Yeah, and I was hungry.”

“That’s not too surprising.”

“That’s what Jano said. Well, I’m sick and tired of always having fish, you know? And we had a lot of money, and so I asked Jano if maybe we could get a beef sandwich.”

“Two street orphans with a whole crown, and you wanted a beef sandwich?”

“Yeah, I was hungry, Lina!”

“You couldn’t even wait long enough to come back here and let me get change for you?”

“Jano wanted to, but-“

“You were hungry, yeah, I get it. So, you tried to spend it and you got robbed?”

“Sort of. Jano knew a guy, Mr. Sinder, who sells beef sandwiches. Mr. Sinder seemed to know Jano, he called him by name, and smiled at us. He was missing a few teeth, but that’s ok, the beef smell was making my stomach rumble.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t actually beef, not from a street vendor with missing teeth.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, never mind. What happened next?”

“Well, Mr. Sinder said it would be two bits for a sandwich. I handed him the crown, and he accused us of stealing it!”

“Well, yeah, what did you expect him to do?”

“Well, we wouldn’t steal nothing from nobody, and if he knew Jano, he shoulda known that!”
“You wouldn’t steal anything from – never mind.”

“Well, Jano gets all angry and starts yelling about how we found the crown and that we didn’t steal it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Mr. Angrypants.”

“Yeah, and we started drawing a crowd, you know, and I tried to get Jano to calm down. Mr. Sinder must’ve seen the crowd, too, cuz he gave me the sandwich and seven marks and a ha’mark back.”

“Wait, he charged you a ha’mark after he said two bits?”

“Yeah, and Jano sure wasn’t happy about that, neither.”

“I bet not.”

“Well, I was able to get Jano to leave without getting into much of another argument, and we ducked down an alley so I could eat it without everyone seeing me.”

“And someone followed you?”

“Yeah. I was enjoying my first bite, when Jano cried out. I opened my eyes and saw an ugly face staring back at me. I ducked and kicked his knee with my foot. He fell down, grabbing his knee, and the other guy threw Jano down on the ground and started coming after me.”

“He threw Jano on the ground? Oh my, is he alright?”

“Calm down! Yeah. He’s fine. He let me do all the fighting.”

“Figures.”

Well, the other guy told me if I gave him the money, he wouldn’t hurt us, even though we’d hurt his friend.”

“You didn’t believe him, did you?”

“Am I stupid? Wait, don’t answer. I held out my hand like I was gonna give him to money, and as he reached for it, I swung my other hand around and punched him in the side of the head.”

“Oh my!”

“He fell down on top of hi friend, Jano stood up and helped me pick up the coins, though I decided to leave the sandwich on the ground where I dropped it, even though I only got to take one bite of it, and I was still hungry, but Jano didn’t want to stop anywhere and let me get another sandwich, not even a stupid fish one!”

“So you just came back here?”

“Yeah, as we started walking, Jano was telling me about places with round coins, can you imagine that? Coins that can roll away from you? Anyway, we started walking and I noticed my foot hurt.”

“You noticed it hurt? It looks like it’s very painful!”

“Not really, I’ve broken toes before.”

“It’s broken?”

“Pretty sure, yeah. So, we get here and Jano sees my foot, and he’s all worried, like you are, and he says he wants to get a doctor or something.”

“You should see someone!’

“No! All they’ll do is tell me stay off of it, and then give me some horrible tasting stuff that doesn’t do anything but make me tired. I’m not going to do anything on my foot, trust me.”

“Boys! If you’re sure…”

“I am! Anyway, Jano ran out to get a bandage to wrap around the toe. That’s all I need, and he should be back pretty soon.”

“Really? He’ll be back soon?”

“Yeah, unless he decides to go on another adventure without me, but he doesn’t do that very often. He says he gets us into things and I get us out.”

“Well, I’ll let you rest then.”

“Don’t you want to wait for Jano to get back?”

“What? No, no, tell him I said, ‘Hi’ though.”

“Ok.”

“And um, tell him if he wants to come to me and my mom’s rooms, I’ll teach him more history and stuff.”

“Sure thing, Lina, I’ll tell him.”

“Thanks, Burin! Good bye!”

“No problem, see ya later! Huh, don’t you think it’s obvious that you want Jano to come visit? Why don’t you just tell him yourself?”

“What? I didn’t hear that with the door closing.”

“Oh, um, nothing, Lina. Bye.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: sceneTK421 on January 05, 2011, 03:45:51 AM
Writing Prompt 5.18: Start with hard science-fiction, move to werewolf romance.

THE WOLFROSE
(Excerpt from the novel)


       Nanotechnology is so clunky. Its true that without nanotech we wouldn't have The Explorers and without The Explorers we wouldn't have had e-nanotech and then we would never have had B. Gregory George Gaines pivotal book “The World Inside the Atom”, but that doesn't make the fact that nanotech is clunky any less true.

   I'll always remember when Gaines' book came out. It was all over the news and the nets with its suggested impossible thought of moving inside an atom. Then R. Portis Einstein actually did it. He keremerged the atom, looked inside it, then actually got inside it. And discovered the truth of the atom. It was a building block, sure, but it was also an entire universe, and it was nothing. It was why each thing was why it was. Which opened up the possibility of manipulating what was inside, to change what was outside. Because that's what we do. Us humans. We manipulate. And thus eatomtechnology was born.

   Of course there were groups that were against it, some religious, some not. Some said it was like dissecting God or it was a slight against him and his masterpiece of life. Some said that it was worse than splitting the darn thing and would destroy the whole world. Some thought it would open a gate to another world. Some thought it would save us all. When they announced that they would be applying it to humans everyone speculated on what this meant for us. How would it change the human? Where would this take us? What would we be like in the future?  It would eliminate disease, some said. It would eliminate obesity. It would make us live forever. It would this. It would that.

   Concerning the elimination of disease, that hope was only half true, but the half truth was better than the hope. It didn't destroy disease, eatomtech used it to make us stronger. The more diseases that you had, the stronger you became. It did eliminate obesity and braindisease. It made us all the best we could be. It opened up parts of our brains that we had never known. It added a hundred years to our lives. And most importantly, it didn't make us lose the individuality that some thought was inevitable.

   No matter how far you went down inside the atomiverse. Whether it be in the ekeyatoms or the lessor. We did not change. Which made a great argument for the evidence of the soul. Which, in turn, made some religious groups press harder with the atomists to delve deeper into the atomiverse and brought the late question of whether an atomiverse was filled with other beings. People predicted a lot of what went on after eatomtech was developed, what seemed like every result possible, but one result they could not predict was the werewolves. And one thing that I could not predict was how deeply I would fall in love with one of them.




I wrote this as 3 paragraphs originally, but it seemed to flow much better as 5

Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: dhalagirl on January 08, 2011, 03:22:38 AM
Yes, I borrowed "Brandonium" from the podcast, but I'm only using it for this exercise.  The finished draft of this novel will have something else in its place.  Yes, it's longer than 3 paragraphs, but there's no way I could do a respectable job and keep it that length.  I also tried to keep the romance elements PG.

Writing prompt:  Start with hard core sci-fi and move to werewolf romance

I’m not your bitch
I braced myself against the Captain’s console as another plasma torpedo struck the port side.  A chorus of groans from both the crew and the ship rang throughout the bridge.  The shields were holding for now, but if we keep taking hits like this, they won’t for much longer. 

“What do you mean we’re out of fuel?   That’s impossible!”

“No, just highly improbable.”  Johnner replied dryly.  How can he be so calm when Baumen pirates are on our tail?

“But Brandonium self replicates!  That’s what made it the perfect fuel for star craft in the first place.  You can’t run out of gas!”

“You can when it’s accidentally jettisoned before warp.”  Johnner answered sheepishly.

“Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I can say it if it makes you feel better, but it would be a lie.”

Another torpedo struck and warning clarions blared to life.  A list of damaged or impaired systems appeared on my console.  The shields are now down to thirty percent and a few minor systems are fried or non-responsive.  “Were you trying get us killed?”

“No, I was trying to jettison the cargo but I accidentally pushed the wrong button.”  Jettisoning the fifty head of cattle in the hold would have been a relief to my nerves and a mess on the Baumen view screens.  It could have given us the few precious seconds we needed to jump into warp.  Too bad Johnner botched it.

“Captain, we’re being hailed.”  Kali called over her shoulder from the com station at the bow.

I schooled my features as best I could before responding.  “Put it on screen.”

An image of the Baumen Captain appeared on screen.  He wore a black shirt that was so tight, it looked like it would rip apart if he breathed wrong.  I could see every ridge and valley of his taught pecs and washboard abs.  Like most Baumen Captains, he kept his dark brown pelt trimmed so close to the skin that it may as well not have been there at all.  It was supposed to make them look more human, but it didn’t quite work. 

I’ve heard rumors that their hair is as soft as silk, but I’ve never been close enough to find out.  I wonder what it feel like to run my hands over all that yummy muscle.  Hmm….No! Stop and focus.  You’re in a crisis and he’s a different species. 
The Bauman are classified as humanoid since all of their parts are arranged in the same manner, but that’s where the similarities end.  Their head is slightly elongated because of the fuzzy pointed ears perched on top.  A short snout, similar to that of a Terran dog, protruded in the front.  Seeing his sharp canines and silver eyes made my heart stutter.  The Captain spoke in low guttural tones, but it was more growl than vowel and was impossible to understand.  “Kali, why is the translator program not working?”

“Working on it, Captain.”  Blast it all!  Why is everyone calm but me?  It took a couple of seconds for Kali’s lightening fingers to get the program working again.  Kali gave me a thumbs up, our signal that a two-way communication link is open.  Throwing all decorum out the window, I interrupted the Bauman Captain.

“You’ll have to repeat everything you just said.  Your torpedoes fried half of our computer.  We just got our translator program back on line.”  All right, I was stretching the truth a bit, but he didn’t need to know that.

His ears perked up a bit.  “A female Captain?”

I whispered to Kali as loud as I dared.  “Is the link audio only?”

Kali spun her seat around to face me and shrugged her shoulders.   “I guess so.”  She whispered back.  Thank the stars for one miracle.

“Yes, I am a female Captain.  You got a problem with that?”

“No problem at all.”  He grinned.  I didn’t know if it was supposed to be disarming or frightening, but it certainly had the latter effect on me.  “I was saying that you are surrounded and it would be in your best interest to surrender.”

“I’d rather not.”  I replied as calmly as I could.

“You do not have much choice since you have already jettisoned your fuel tank.  A curious move, I must admit.”   

“There was a malfuncion.”  I glared at Johnner.  He slumped down in his seat, which made me feel a little better. 
I racked my brain for some clever ploy I could use to finagle our way out of this mess.  A hull breach wouldn’t work.  Their sensors would prove me a liar before I could finish a sentence.  It was hard to think with both my crew and the Bauman Captain staring at me.  It would also be easier if those cursed cattle weren’t making such a ruckus in the hold below me.  I could hear them through the steel bulkhead.  The cattle!  That’s it! 

“Can I interest you in an exchange instead?”

“What sort of an exchange?”

“If you return our fuel tank, we’ll give you the twenty head of cattle in our hold.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and thought it over.  “Thirty head.”

“I don’t have thirty head to…”

“Our sensors say otherwise.”

I leaned back in my seat and muttered a few choice expletives.  It figures they would have bio-scanners.  Pirates always have the tech that honest people like myself can only dream of.  “Twenty-five and not a head more.  I can’t show up with less than half of my shipment and still get paid.”

“You can if you want to arrive at all.”  He replied smugly.

I cursed again.  We’re helpless and he knows it.  Well, it’s time to lay it all on the line.  “Fine.  Shoot us down.”  Johnner and Kali started shouting protests over each other.  I raised my hand to silence them.  “I mean it, Captain.  Twenty-five is my final offer.  Take it, or shoot us down.”

The Baumen Captain threw his head back and made a strange huffing sound.  Is he laughing?  “Deal.  But only if you accompany the cattle aboard.”

Kali looked at me pleadingly.  Johnner stared blankly at his boots.  He knew me well enough to guess my answer.  “Deal.”  I signaled to Kali to cut transmission.

“Captain, you can’t go!”  Kali protested.

“It’s too late now, I’ve already agreed to it.”

Kali turned to Johnner for help.  “Say something!  You can’t just sit there and let her do this.”

Johnner turned back to his console and started lowering the shields for the cargo transfer.  “After we drop shipment, I’ll plot a course for Red Star 6.  We’ll wait for you there.”  Kali started shouting some rather nasty things at him.  I took the opportunity to sneak out of the bridge.  I had preparations of my own to make.
         
An hour later I exited my cabin armed to the teeth.  There was a lazer pistol strapped to each thigh, a ceramic knife at the small of my back, another inside my right boot, a mini EMP in my coat pocket, and my lucky headband.  I hoped that I wouldn’t need any of them, but there was no way I was going to set foot on a pirate vessel unprepared.
Johnner met me in the corridor outside the cargo bay.  “Kali is just about finished re-installing the fuel tank and the first ten steer are nearly through.”

“Good.  Don’t give them any more.”  He raised an eyebrow at me.  “I’m going to try to pull a crazy rabbit.”

 “Look, I’m sorry for screwing up, but you don’t need to pull a stupid stunt like this to get back at me!”

“This is the best chance we have of salvaging this run.  If I’m not back in ten minutes, break seal and burn starlight.” 

“Aye, Captain.” He said quietly.  I turned to go but Johnner caught my arm.  “Kali left something for you.”  He handed me a mini translator.  “She only had time to program it for Bau.  It won’t work for any other language.” 

“Pray I don’t need any more.”  I clipped the translator to my ear and walked into the cargo bay.  On the far side of the bay was the pen where the remaining forty cattle stood.  To my left, the docking hatch hung open and a long tube connected us to the Baumen vessel.  I stood at our end and gazed across the dark cold expanse.  A tall, well-muscled figure stood at the other end.  The Captain.

“Permission to come aboard?”  I called out.

“Granted.”  He barked back. 

Good.  The translator works.  Sometimes Kali’s “upgrades” didn’t work so well.  I crouched down with my foot on the hatch seal and pushed off hard.  The momentum sent me flying head first through the tube and the weightlessness of space at a fast clip.  When I reached the other side I grabbed the top hatch and held on so as my body entered the artificial gravity of the Baumen vessel I could change my body’s angle and land on my feet instead of my face.

Immediately after landing, two thugs seized my arms tightly.  Another crewman stepped forward, but the Captain called him off. 
“This honor is mine.”

He knelt before me and slowly removed my lazer pistols, holster and all.  The howls of mirth from the crew were humiliating.  It almost made me wish that the translator didn’t work, but knowing what they said wasn’t half as arduous as withstanding the Captains ministrations. 

He caressed my thigh with one hand while the other gently coaxed the strap out of its loop.  The heat of his gaze was too much to bear.  I tried to focus my fiercest glare on the crew, but the flaming blush and racing pulse I couldn’t control sabotaged my intent.  After he finally finished removing the holsters his meticulous search moved up. 

Every curve of my body was thoroughly patted down and fondled.  He found the knife at my back and the EMP.  The headband he let me keep.  Don’t panic yet.  You still have your lucky charm and the knife in your boot.  You’re not out of options yet.  After he finished inspecting every strand of hair on my head, he lazily traced a finger down my neck.  He pulled out the silver chain tucked into my shirt, revealing the tiny charm that hung from it.  A glowing grin spread across his face when he saw it.  Weird.  Has he never seen a silver rose before?

“Are you finished.”  I said vehemently.  With a nod he called off the two thugs and I was finally able to massage my sore wrists.

“Prepare to break seal.  We have our prize.”  The Captain ordered.  He grabbed my butt and tried to pull me against him.

“I’m not your bitch!”  I shouted as I wound my arm back and punched him in the jaw with all my might.  His teeth grazed my knuckles and made a couple of them bleed, but I didn’t let that bother me.  For a final touch I kicked him hard in the groin before running for the hatch.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: ioMu on January 11, 2011, 03:10:33 PM
lol@TK421: That made me laugh.

Dhalagirl: Really enjoyed that.

Last week's prompt (it's a bit long so here's the link): http://bit.ly/hJ9Gro

This week's prompt: Writing Prompt: Pick a typical promise that a child might make, and use that as the promise you’re making to your readers.

The Promise of Pizza

Billy notices a strange woman doing strange things on his front lawn. He goes outside to inquire “Excuse me, what are you doing?”

“Hi Billy”

“Do I know you?”

“Billy!”

“Carlie?  Carlie Smarlie Barley and Rye?”

“Yes, it’s Carlie”

“How have you been?”

“I’m doing very fine. I see you’re doing well for yourself, Billy Cranston”

“Can’t complain. So er…why are you measuring my house?”

I like things to be done properly.

“Landscaping?” Billy asks. “Survey?”

“Pizza”

“Pizza?”

“Mrs. Graham’s pizza party.”

“I remember that…I got sick that night. But what does it have to do with…”

“You ate so much pizza.”

“I guess I did”

“You ate Eddie Mitchell’s slice and Janice Brown’s slice”

“You have a great memory”

“They were my friends”

“They must have been my friends too…to give me their pizza”

“You took their pizza”

“I did?”

“Yes. You ate my slice also”

“I took your pizza?”

“No. I gave it to you”

“We were good friends”

“No. You made a promise”

“I did?”

“Of course you did. If I gave you my pizza you would make me a pizza pie bigger than your house”

Billy chuckles “That sounds like something I would have said”

“You did say it”

He continues to chuckle until it hits him that Carlie had never been the humorous type and that she now stood before him, measuring tape in hand. “Hey, let me buy you a pizza.”

“That’s why I’m here. 45 by 65”

“What’s that?”

“That’s bigger than your house”

Billy looks at the woman before him. 30 years had changed her. People become psychopaths in less time than that, he thought. He remembered, again, how she never laughed…maybe she had always been one. “How much money will a pizza this size cost?”

Carlie takes a calculator from her pocket. “Eddie wants pepperoni. Janice wants extra cheese and assorted vegetables. I take mine plain”

Billy shifts, searching for a relaxed pose to hide his uneasiness “You guys still friends…that’s great”

“Of course we are. We play Scrabble every Tuesday” She continues to calculate “have you considered which flour you’ll be using?”

“Flour…no. I haven’t considered that”

“That has to be factored in.”

“Why don’t I just give you a round number. Round up if you like.”

“I don’t want money. I want pizza. Pizza bigger than your house.”

“Carlie. How do you expect me to do that?

“You made the promise, Billy Cranston, you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back next week.”

“Right. Next week.”

“I never noticed that before, Billy.”

“Noticed what?”

“The twitch. You didn’t have that in 1st grade, did you?”

“No I don’t think I did. Nice seeing you Carlie. Say Hi to Teddy and Janice.”

“Eddie. Eddie and Janice”

“Right. Eddie and Janice”

Carlie walks off.  Billy returns to his house, locking the door behind him. He watches her through the blinds.

“What are you looking at, Dear?” His wife asks

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“The kids want Pizza for dinner”

“Pizza? Sure. Pizza is fine.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: joboofoo on January 20, 2011, 11:38:28 PM
Hello everyone.  I just found this site yesterday while looking through Brandon's blogs for WoT info when I saw his suggestion for a dialogue only writing exercise.  I sat down and wrote one, hope you enjoy and tell me what you think.

********************************************

Title: Dialogue Writing Exercise (couldn't think of anything, thats what the doc is ;))
(There was a bit of profanity in there that I had to edit out after reading the terms while registering, changed some of the back and forth a bit  :-[)


“What are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“What…are…you…doing?”

“Oh… Nothing.”

“I can see you’re not doing nothing.”

“I’m not doing anything.  Leave me alone.”

“Wha’cha got there?”

“What?  Nothing, go away Mike.”

“Let me…”

“Hey!  Give that back!”

“What the…”

“Stop it!  Give me that!”

“Shut up.  What kind’a…”

“Give it back!  You can’t even use it!”

“Oh really?  I’ve used power stones before.  I’m not an idiot.”

“Just give…”

“Oh shut up… Hey.  Where’d you go?  Jack, what’s goin’ on?”

“Shhh!  He’ll hear you.”

“What?  Who are you, man!”

“Shhh!  You gotta be quiet.  He’ll hear you!”

“What…”

“I said be quiet!”

“Hey!  Get off’a me!”

“Shut up!”

“Get…off…of…me!”

“Son of a…”

“What’s goin on!  Where’re you going!  Hey!”

“HAHAHA!  ANOTHER TOY!  HOW WONDERFUL!”

“What… Oh my god!  What is that!”

“IT’S TIME TO PLAY TOY.”

“Jack!  Jack, where the hell did you send me!  Jack!”

“HOHOHO.  COME HERE TOY.  I WANT TO PLAY.”

“Oh god!  Get away from me!”

“THERE IS NO GOD HERE TOY.  COME BACK.  IT IS TIME TO PLAY!”

“Help!  Somebody hel…uhg.”

“Shhh!”

“WHERE DID YOU GO TOY?  I WANT TO PLAY! TOOOOOOY!”

“Wha…”

“Shhh!  He can’t really see good, but he’s got damn good ears.  You have to be quiet.”

“What was that?”

“We have to go.”

“Hey, what was that thing?”

“You don’t know?  You translocated yourself here without knowing which Daemon is around?  Moron…”

“I what?  What are you talking about?  I didn’t transl…whatever myself here!”

“Right… You just randomly popped into the Underworld.  On accident.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I don’t… That son of a…!  Jack!  I’m going to kill you!”

“Shhh!  Are you that stupid!”

“That little punk, when I get my hands on him…”

“For the love of… Just shut up!  We’re almost out of his domain.  He won’t be able to come after us.”

“TOY!  WHERE ARE YOU, TOY!  I’M HUNGRY!  TOY!”

“You moron!  I almost had it!  There was a perfect deposit right there.  Then poof, you fall right in front of me and stir him up!  What were you thinking?”

“Hey!  Stop hitting me!  I don’t know what you’re talking about man!”

“Arrrrr!  Now I have to wait ‘til he settles down again.  Great!  Do you know how long it took me sneaking around to find that Pyroglia deposit.  Fffff!  He’ll be looking for you for days.”

“Where are we?”

“I’m suppose to be back with that load tonight.  This is just great.”

“Hey, where are we?”

“What?”

“Where…”

“Are you simple?  You can’t get here without knowing what this place is.  Seriously…? You really don’t know…”

“…”

“Wow…  A kid huh…a magiology student I bet.  Went snooping around somewhere you shouldn’t and found a Bindle Stone or Port Key.  Idiot…  This…is…the Daemon Plain, the Underworld.  The Dominion of the Damned, and what not.”

“How the hell did I… How did Jack get a…a whatever stone?”

“A Bindle Stone.  You don’t get Bindle Stones or Port Keys you make them.  It’s hard as hell to get the reagents so if you make one you're not going to just let go of it.  So… Where is it?”

“What?”

“Whatever you used to get here.”

“I don’t have it!  Jack grabbed it before I disappeared!”

“Huh.  Looks like you’re screwed, man.”

“What!”

“Good luck getting out of here without it.”

“What are you talking about?  Don’t you have one?  You gotta get me out of here!”

“I don’t got to do a damn thing, kid.  You pop out of no where, get Kharuzul there all riled up, screw up my harvest, and now you expect me to help you.  Screw that!”

“You can’t leave me here!  Fff…I…dude!”

“You probably deserve it too.  Messing with stuff you shouldn’t.  I should leave you here just for that.  Actually…”

“Hey!  Where’d you… You can’t leave me here!  Come back!  Please!”

“Hey, I’m right behind you.  I’m just messin’ with you, man.  I wouldn’t leave anyone here, this place is hell.”

“You jerk!”

“Heh, tell you what…” 

“You’re a punk, man.”

“…help me get what I came here for and I’ll see if I can’t find someone with a Port Key that can carry more than one person.  Send ‘em back for ya.  Name’s Jim by the way.”

“Fine.  Mike.  Whatever I gotta do man.”

“Alright.  We’ll have to distract him to get to the stones.”

“How’re we gunna do that.”

“Well…he’s looking for his toy right?  Looks like you’ll have to go and play…Toy.”

“What…no!  That thing wants to eat me!”

“You want to get out of here or what… Okay then.  All you have to do is call him by his name and challenge him to a game or something.”

“What?”

“You challenge him to a game, or a contest or whatever.  Then I can…”

“Are you crazy!  He’ll just eat me!”

“Nah, if you say his name and challenge him, he has to accept.  It’s… it’s some sort of code they got.  If you beat them you get to live…I think.”

“Screw that!”

“Its that or nothing man.”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: LiquidWeird on January 21, 2011, 06:24:32 PM
Hi all. New here. I’ve been wanting to do a dialogue exercise, and since I see others are still turning in some, I thought I’d go ahead and post two of my own. These are both from the same story, but only one character is common between them.

 

So, here goes:

Dialogue Exercise One:

---------

"That's not how it works."

 

"W-who?"

 

"Stop that. You're not an owl."

 

"What?"

 

"Better. I said you're doing it wrong. You did it so much better back there in the depths when that priest was chasing you.

 

"Who are you? How do you know about that? Can you get me out of here?"

 

"So many questions. Who I am is complicated. But you can call me Victoria, if you like. As for how I know about what happened to you, it's simple. I watched you. "

 

"What?"

 

"I. Watched. You. Really, I know you can hear me and if you don't become a better conversationalist quickly, I'm going to become cross with you."

 

"I... I'm sorry. I'm kind of distracted locked up in this cell, sentenced to be burnt at the stake..."

 

"Yes. Nasty business that. Not a pleasant way to go."

 

"Thank you for the observation. I hadn't considered that..."

 

"Well you should. Really, that priest was young and not particularly strong or he would have blasted you to ashes you where you stood. The stake fires are a lot hotter."

 

"I am trying not to think about that. These burns are bad enough."

 

"If you're lucky you'll suffocate to death on the smoke before the flames kill you."

 

"Lovely."

 

"Not especially.  I'm not fond of fire myself."

 

"It's really very disconcerting to talk to you like this. Could you come out where I can see you to talk?"

 

"I could, certainly.  If you'll stand in the torchlight in front of the door for a moment."

 

"What, why?"

 

"There you go with the questions again. If you must know, I need the shadow of a living being to step from. I can't just pop out of any old shadow. It's bad enough talking and watching through them."

 

"Shadows? You're a... a... voidwright?"

 

"You could say that."

 

"I don't think I should talk to you... The Church..."

 

"The Church might lock you in a cell and burn you at the stake in the morning? Hmm. Probably so. Oh well, we can't risk that, now can we?"

 

"Fine! fine! I see your point. Just come on out."

 

 

"There. Better?"

 

 

"Much. Forgive me for staring, I..."

 

"No need to worry. I admit I made a bit of an entrance."

 

"Indeed you did."

 

"I'm glad you liked it... Stinks in here. Musty. I suppose that's to be expected."

 

"Um, you're not here to tempt me for my soul, are you?"

 

"Why bother?"

 

"Then why are you here?"

 

"Well, because you asked me to come out to talk. Surely you remember?"

 

"I meant, why down here in these cells, how did you watch me, and what was all that with the shadows back in that chamber, and the metal skeleton and that spear... and the priest throwing fire... It's like the old stories come to life. Even now I'm beginning to doubt my own memories. It's just too inconceivable. People can't throw fire from their hands, or step into shadows...or..."

 

"Hmm. I see. So all the legends you grew up hearing were just childrens' fancies and none of this can be real."

 

"Well... yes."

 

"It's real.  Pyromancer priests are real.  Voidwrights are real. Thatchgrumbles..."

 

"Thatchgrumbles? Seriously?"

 

"Well, no. Not Thatchgrumbles. Some things really are just children's stories. But the important thing for you is that you are now a Voidwright. Master of shadow and ice, stealer of sins and hand of the Void. Or you will be if you can avoid being burnt to death in about, oh, four hours or so.

 

"What about that priest?"

 

"Obviously he can summon and cast flames, also craft illusions with light, read the flames. Pyromancers can do a lot of other things, too. Some they've probably forgotten. Most of them just plain unpleasant to anyone on the wrong end of them."

 

"Wow. With that sort of power I could just blast my way out. Or slip out hiding behind illusions. I wonder why the priest didn't get himself out of that room that way?"

 

"Maybe because he's a priest, and is honest, devout, and remorseful for breaking his Church's greatest taboo?"

 

"Are you saying I'm not an honest man?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Oh. Well. That's all right then."

 

"I suggest you keep your mind on your current situation. Now is not the time to muck about. Hurry up and figure out how to get out of here. There are plenty of shadows here, if you have the wit to make use of them. Remember, the trick is simple. You're not trying to get in, you're trying to get out."

 
-----------------

Dialogue Exercise Two:

 

"Hey! Hey you over there! Why aren't you eating your porridge? Is it not good enough for you?"

 

"Who is there?"

 

"My name is Vincenzo."

 

"You are the defiler! I have nothing to say to such as you."

 

"Hey! Listen! If you don't want that porridge, could you maybe find a way to scoot it over here?"

 

"Hey, you're that Priest, aren't you?"

 

"Hey! Hey in there, you burned me pretty badly. Don't you feel bad about that?"

 

"Hey, why did they lock you up? You caught me after all. I thought you were one of theirs?"

 

"Be silent, Voidwright! I've heard enough of you already, singing, shouting down the halls, talking to yourself. I don't know why they won't end this. We should both be ashes by now. Especially you."

 

"Me? That's not a very priestly thing to say. Why not ask the gaoler?"

 

"He's a monk who has taken a vow of silence."

 

"That would explain it. Listen, if you're not going to scoot that porridge bowl over this way, at least explain why you aren't eating it yourself."

 

"Not that I expect a man like you to understand, but I don't deserve food or water. I stay awake by the door, praying for forgiveness, until sleep takes me. I have become a wretched thing, deserving of the stake and the flame. My only hope is that the purifying flames of the execution pyre will cleanse my sins and that Sol Invictus and his Angel will receive my soul into heaven, though I am an unworthy wretch."

 

"So I'm eating better than you and sleeping more comfortably. I actually feel better about that. At least someone has it worse than me. Sure we're both going to be burnt alive, but at least I can do it on a full stomach. You'll be so hungry you might not notice the fire."

 

"The pains of hunger and thirst are part of my penance. You should do penance, too, for the sake of your soul. Heaven is beyond your reach, surely, but perhaps you can redeem yourself enough in your last hours here that Sol Invictus, in his mercy, will simply obliterate you rather than send you to the icy wastes of Hell. Give up your evil Void-blighted magics and beg for forgiveness."

 

"No thanks. I think I'll enjoy my crust of moldy bread."

 

"So be it then. It is your choice."

 

"Seems so. So, what is your name?"

 

"Wilhelm. I am Patre Wilhelm, unless they have revoked my Ordination. It would be within their rights abjure me so."

 

"So all that fire you threw at me..."

 

"Do not speak of the Holy Arts with your foul tongue, Voidwright!"

 

"You're free with those terms, but would you mind explaining them?"

 

"You take me for a fool. I saw you step into your own shadow and clamber out of mine. "

 

"I have no idea how that happened."

 

"You lie."

 

"If I had the slightest idea how all that worked, do you really think I'd have been caught?"

 

"You must have been caught on purpose to...."

 

"Really? Think that through for a bit and you'll see how ridiculous that idea is."

 

"Oh, all right then. So you did not plan it. How did you get so far into the Cathedral without raising an alarm, if you didn't use evil void-wrought arts?"

 

"If you must know, I was chased into the catacombs by Gravesmen and a city guard intent on bashing in my head.After that, I did it the old fashioned way. By sneaking and hiding. Sometimes even in shadows. Most of the time, actually, but not using any sort of 'dark arts.' Heh. Dark Arts. That's kind of funny, now that I think about it."

 

"There is nothing funny about Dark Arts! Perhaps you have stumbled upon those abilities somehow, unwittingly. I still urge you to renounce them before you die."

 

"I'll think about it."

 

"Good. See that you do.  The workings of the Void and its Void Angel are anathema to all life."

 

"Oh, and fire isn't?"

 

"Fire is the life bringer! Fire gives warmth and light, and holds back the Dark.  Fire is the gift of the Sun."

 

"Fire can also burn and kill. Your fire didn't exactly do much to bring me life. Quite the opposite in fact."

 

"Fire also purifies the impure, and destroys the evil of the Void."

 

"And anything else that spends too long in contact with it. I don't think fire cares much one way or the other what it burns, so long as it burns something. Whether it's a 'creature of evil' or a good man, or a house, or a brothel, or a church."

 

"You speak blasphemy!"

 

"Is truth blasphemy? You can't deny that fire is dangerous. Cities have burned, thousands killed. Are you prepared to say that every single person who dies by fire had it coming in some way?"

 

"Of course not. It's a force in the world. The capacity to use it is the gift of Sol Invictus."

 

"So there goes your argument about its inherent goodness. It's a force. It just is. So it stands to reason that these Shadow arts might also just be a force, and not inherently evil."

 

"I am not going to sit here and let you twist my faith with clever words.  The fact is that you were in a sacred place, The most sacred place. It is a blasphemy and a sacrilege for anyone save the Pontifex himself to go there. For that crime, there is only one just punishment, and that is to be burnt at the stake. That doom is on both of us.  The fact that you compound that crime and sin with those of using forbidden evil arts merely makes your execution even more imperative.  It is unfortunate that you can be burnt at the stake only once."

 

"Well that's cheerful. Thank you for that. Aren't you priests always saying 'justice for crimes, forgiveness for sins'?"

 

"There is a distinction yes. That is why I was urging you to renounce the void and its arts, turn from your sinful ways, and beg Sol Invictus for mercy for your soul.  Your crimes will be met with justice on the stake. Your sins may be mitigated or forgiven."

 

"I'll be dead either way."

 

"Yes."

 

"So why bother?"

 

"To avoid eternity in the icy wastes of Hell, where the Sun is a mere point of light in the distance, where He does not cast his warmth and love. Where every drop of your blood freezes to sharp ice crystals, which shred your flesh from within while driving winds scour your skin with ice from without, and your flesh freezes to the ground tearing away with every step, and every touch of the hand. Where your eyes freeze solid and burst from the cold, and where there is no rest, only torturous freezing cold and the all-consuming Void. Where the wails of the shadows of the damned echo for all eternity."

 "Sounds lovely. I think I'll pass though."

 

"Good. So you will renounce the Void, forswear the evil powers the touch of the Void has instilled in you, and beg Sol Invictus for mercy for your soul?"

 

"No. I think I'll pass on being burnt at the stake. Save Sol Invictus the trouble of sending me to Hell and save me the trouble of a horrible fiery death."

 

"That is not a choice available to you. Any moment now, the Palatine Guard will drag you out to the pyre. Heed my warnings and repent!"

 

"Ehh... I'm not much one for repentance. That would involve my being sorry or somehow remorseful."

 

"Then you will burn. May Sol Invictus look with pity on your spirit. I doubt he will, but I can hope. For your sake."
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: chuck on January 21, 2011, 07:04:15 PM
This is my first time posting here. Actually, it's my first time posting anything like this anywhere. I enjoyed the exercise and welcome feedback (of all types).


Writing Excuses 5.20: More Dialog Exercises

"Gimme a boost!"

"A what? Do I look like a stool?"

"Well, you're about the right height..."

"Hey, now!"

"...and your head's sorta flat so, yeah. Stool. C'mere."

"Why should I?"

"I'll share with you when we get it down. Promise."

"You think there's anything in there?"

"Worth looking, don't you think?"

"Maybe. I hate being short."

"It's what we are. Short."

"And broad. Don't forget broad. That's what all the old scrolls say."

"Which scrolls?"

"The old ones."

"I didn't think you could read."

"Doesn't sound much like you want that boost."

"Don't go all 'elf' on me and shave your beard. I was joking. Get over here before it comes back."

"You think it's coming back soon? We should just go. We got what we came for."

"It's got to come back eventually. Those halfs don't run so fast and once it catches them..."

"Moradin! And we're still HERE!?!"

"We wouldn't be if you'd given me that boost when I asked for it. I'm not leaving till I check that chest."

"What if it comes back?"

"We run."

"We aren't gonna outrun that thing. Even if it's not fully grown."

"I don't think I'll have much problem. It's young so its wings haven't matured and..."

"That doesn't make it slow. Those things can run!"

"So can I."

"Not faster than it!"

"Last I checked I could run faster than YOU. And you're a little more ... 'broad' than me. Makes you more appetizing."

"I don't know why I put up with this."

"Cause I got the map."
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: RavenstarRHJF on March 08, 2011, 04:25:24 AM
Most of the time I don't do the writing prompts featured on the WE podcast, but this one just kinda popped into my head while listening, so I gave it a shot.  I apologize in advance to the Steve Pollaskis of the world. :)

Writing Excuses Prompt, Episode 5.27


“He should have been killed at birth.  I say that, and I used to be pro-life.  Now, of course, there’s no longer any choice at all.

But seriously- he should have been killed at birth.  Why? Are you kidding me? 

He only doomed us all!

Who?  Who?!  Oh, for.. Steve Pollaski, that’s who!  He was only on the NY Times best-sellers list for three months!  Don’t you read?  Anything?

Look, the stupid idiot wrote a standard science fiction alien invasion book.  Ok, not a big deal right?  There are hundreds of them, millions even!  There’re a dozen different iterations, a thousand subversions, and half a million cross-overs in that subgenre alone! 

Ah, but this one, this one is the one that went viral.  Idiot!

As if it weren’t enough that information-age brats put up snarky websites detailing-detailing, I say- the best ways in which to become supreme overlords!  No!  Of course not!  This idiot, this maggot, feeding off the excrement of popular media, had to go and put his damn book out and doom. us. all!

Oh, I see.  You think I’m overreacting.

HAVE YOU TAKEN A LOOK AROUND LATELY?!

Can you not SEE the GIANT ALIEN SPACESHIP taking up 80% of the sky?!  God, I am surrounded by morons!  Can you do something about that?  Please?!!

Oh don’t give me that look- who believes in aliens, I ask you?  And yet, there they are.  Right there.  With their pointy disintegration… thingies.  And their buzzy flappy things that shoot lightning…  You’re seriously gonna stand there and tell me God doesn’t exist after seeing things like that?  Well to each his own, but at this point?  I’m willing to give belief a shot.  By all accounts, God’s better than our new masters anyway.

Ah.  Right.  They haven’t hurt us.  No, you’re right, I suppose… if you discount all the people they’ve murdered subduing the rest of us!  Not to mention the imminent prospect of total enslavement. 

So what did he… oh, right, I was forgetting that you don’t actually read.

Well, see, Pollaski made his aliens smart.  They didn’t show up naked.  They attacked, not the city centers, but the military installations.  They sunk every navy in the world.  They systematically destroyed every single flying thing- artificial or organic- in the first half hour.  Their ships are designed to move faster than molasses in our atmosphere.  They used the moon as a base of operations, and they brought backup.

So?  So?!  What the hell do you think these aliens did?!  ONLY EXACTLY WHAT POLLASKI TOLD THEM TO DO!

NO, I will not ‘shut up’!  Steve Pollaski has to answer for his crimes!  I want justice!  I want…!

Don’t you point that thing at me!  Do you think I’m scared of you?  Well, DO…”
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: dhalagirl on March 29, 2011, 04:14:54 AM
It was too irresistible.  I just had to do this one.

Writing prompt 5:30

Write a fight scene that can be titled "Flaming Slapfest"



   Daniella jumped in her seat as the dressing room door flew open and slammed against the wall.  She heard pieces of the smoke stained plaster crack and fall to the floor.

“All right, where is it?”  Martinique stood in the doorway and tapped her foot in impatience.

“What did you misplace this time?  Your soul?”  Daniella asked.  A few of the other girls snickered.

“Ha ha.”  Martinique said sarcastically as she sashayed in.  Her pink Chinese silk robe gaped at the thigh as she walked revealing the sickeningly gorgeous legs that got her the star spot in the drag show.  “I’m talking about my new kabuki brush.  One of you bitches stole it and I want it back!”

Bella stopped applying her eyeliner and turned to Martinique.  “No need to be callin’ names, sugar.”  She said sweetly in her thick southern accent.  “Just because a bitch is all you see in the mirror doesn’t mean that we’re one too.”

Without any warning Martinique launched herself at Bella.  Her claws came out and Bella returned each slap and scratch in kind.  Makeup was scattered about as they crashed into the dressing table.  A bottle of some dollar store perfume knockoff shattered on the floor and made the air in the room unbearable.

Daniella and the others watched as the pair fought like cats.  No one dared intervene.  This fight had been brewing for months.  Besides, there were few things as entertaining as watching to half dressed queens having a tear at each other.
Fabric ripped and sponge rubber padding flew about.  Their nylons were full of snags and wigs hung limply on their heads.  One of Martinique’s eyelashes dangled and threatened to fall off completely.  It was a beautiful titillating train wreck.

“What in the name of Gaga is going on here?”

All action ceased.  Gaysha, the club owner, stood just inside the room with a look that would melt steel on her face.  She wore a sexy peach and lavender kimono that barely covered her ass.  Her jet black wig was decorated with rhinestone hair pins that had been artfully arranged to form a crown.  The lavender platform pumps she wore made her legs look like a work of art.

Martinique started to harangue Gaysha with a long list of complaints against each of them but Gaysha silenced her with a snap of her fingers.  “I don’t care who started what.  Both of you are going to clean up this mess right now.”

Martinique sniffed and raised her chin.  “I can’t.  I have to be on stage soon.”

“No, you’re not.  Neither of you are performing until this room is clean.”  Both Bella and Martinique started screaming protests at her.  “That’s enough from both of you!  Shut your traps and get to work.”  She then turned her attention to everyone else in the room.  “The rest of you hurry up and get dressed.  You’ll be on early tonight.”


            
Later that night, after the room had been put to rights, Daniella silently opened her makeup box and dug out a short fat kabuki brush with a mother of pearl inlay at the base of the handle.  She heard a gasp behind her.  Her head whipped around and found Gaysha standing in the doorway.

“You started that mess?”

“Hell no!  I finished it.”  Gaysha raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.  “What?  The tension was killing me!  It was like being in an episode of Gays of our Lives!  Someone had to end it before they burned the place down and I certainly wasn’t going to let someone else have all the fun.”

“I suppose you expect me to be grateful?”

“Not at all.  But if you are feeling gracious, then maybe you could clear my bar tab?”

“In your dreams honey.”

Daniella raised her hands in surrender.  “Fine.  Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“No, but I can blame you for a lot more.  Pull a stunt like that again and you’re fired.  Now put that back before you start another fight.”  Gaysha left, her platform heels clicking softly on the linoleum floor.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: Shiael on May 11, 2011, 08:25:54 PM
The story of my life..... jk.




   “Hey Sarah, c’mere,” I said.

   “What?”

   “See this? Well, I found an almost identical constituent of information in this book as in this one, which was rather difficult to construe,” I noted, hefting a large, blue, hardcover book. I brushed a lock of brown hair out of my face.
   
   “Hmph. if you had trouble with it, then I don’t even want to try, so don’t.” She fixed her dark brown eyes on me, and lifted an eyebrow. “now, would you mind translating?”
   
   “Honestly, if you can’t understand me now, then you have zero chance of understanding me where we are--unfortunately--going. Help me with these.” I lifted a stack of books off of the desk and dropped them in her hands. “we need to go now if we ever expect to find it.”
   
   “I meant the book, not you. I can understand you. Kinda. And would you please tell me where Jahsak got to?”
   
   “Why ask me? That boy is nonviable to monitor. He is your boyfriend, not my problem.”

   “Fine, walking-talking-living-breathing-dictionary.”

   “Got enough adjectives in there? I dont think that that could be a compound sentence if you tried.” She gave me a flat look that I returned with a smile.

   A crash brought us both out of our daydreams. The door of the tiny cabin caved in, revealing the crashing waves outside of the boat. A stream of curses cascaded from underneath the demolished door. As usual, Sarah broke the dangerous silence.

   “What in the...”

   “Sarah!”
   
   “Was that?” my oblivious best friend asked.

   Jashak and another (very good looking) man burst through the empty space. He was dripping wet, seawater running down the curves of his face. And good old Sarah, of course, had to break the silence again.
   
   “Ahem? who are you? and what do you think you are doing, breaking down our OUCH!” i kicked her shin to shut her up before she revealed any information to the stranger, however hottt he might be. smoothly slipping the several shiruken hidden in my sleeve into my open hand, i drew a thin dagger with my other. i moved my feet into a defensive stance. Jashak came to his aid.
   
   “No! Nella, the captain is dead. He tried to pull something and we had no choice. Most of the crewmen sided with him; there was an enormous brawl. They either surrendered to us or are dead.”

   “Your point being?”

   “We have no one here who knows where we are going, or how to steer.”

   “...Oh.”

   The other guy finally spoke. “Jash thought that you would be able to sail it.”

   “Jahak. Are you flaming INSANE? You have seriously taken a hard blow to the head in battle.” He returned my flippancy with a blank stare. “All right, fine. I’ll give it a try.” I glared at all three of them as I walked out the door.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: fardawg on June 23, 2011, 06:06:00 PM
dhalagirl

"...smoke stained plaster"; "...before they burned the place down".  Were they supposed to have flame powers? If so it was lost on me since there was no description of fire during their fight (unless I missed something). If they don't have powers you might not want to confuse it with the fire and smoke references. And if you change it so they do have powers, a nod in my direction would be nice in the acknowledgements  ;)
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: dhalagirl on June 24, 2011, 02:34:36 AM
This piece isn't a fantasy.  It's contemporary.  The flame in flaming slapfest is the fact that the characters are all flaming gay drag queens.  The smoke stains are to give the backstage area some history and ambiance.  It's a flashback to when you could still smoke backstage.  The "burned the place down" remark was figurative.

Hope that clears everything up.
Title: Re: Writing Prompts!
Post by: fardawg on June 24, 2011, 12:23:52 PM
This piece isn't a fantasy.  It's contemporary.  The flame in flaming slapfest is the fact that the characters are all flaming gay drag queens.  The smoke stains are to give the backstage area some history and ambiance.  It's a flashback to when you could still smoke backstage.  The "burned the place down" remark was figurative.

Hope that clears everything up.

I got the "flaming" gay part, and I knew the references were figurative for smoking etc. if you weren't writing fantasy. I just thought you might be  going to go for a double meaning since going for a gay reference for "flaming slapfest" was a little on the nose (I was thinking "familiar and original" / "strange attractor").   I still think it would be hilarious if it was a fantasy about drag queens with literal "flaming" powers though.  ;)
Good job though.