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#OdinsBeard

Edited by Kekyoin's Underwater Donut: 2/3/2015 8:50:26 PM
13

I'm writing a novel. Read and comment your thoughts please!

This is my first attempt at writing a novel length story. It's just the first chapter for now but I have the second chapter on the way! I'm a bit of a procrastinator so it may take a while though... >_> [spoiler]What? I'm lazy.[/spoiler] I have actually written a lot of things with all the time I had in my creative writing class in high school. I have WAY more stuff than this, just PM me if you wanna see some of it! :D [spoiler]Beginning of chapter.[/spoiler] Chapter 1: The White Plains Take this for an example; a form of monstrosity and misunderstanding, a presence of truth, a movement of little white lies, blanketing the ground pale and scarred. Please understand that nothing comes easy, even with age, so relax and listen for a moment. A sun shining melted all those little white lies, causing that monstrosity to uncover its ugly face. Before one can see this misunderstanding, one must come to believe that life is a flash of images and reels of tape. With this, we have intelligence, the beginning to the end of misunderstanding and the snowfall of white lies that soak into the empty plains that whistle to and fro. These plains are barren and desolate, like the lies that litter them. Do not believe them, even when they whisper the truth. “Open and empty, just as ya’ said Professor…” A pale face of reflective material and mystery muttered behind a white mask. A man of questionable age stepped forward, his face strewn with an indecipherable emotion, an empty desire. His wrinkled face hidden behind a shadow of deception, giving him an ominous aura that would make babies cry and their mother’s weep along with them. “Yes, with the concentration of empty promises we find that this land is taking the brunt of the pain.” The man sighed and sat down on the snow white plains, the powder shuffling away from his presence. “What do ya’ call this place professor?” the empty face asked. “The White Plains.” “I’d say that is quite fitting.” “Yes Mr. Castle, a plain of white lies and broken dreams…” the old man opened a canister that read ‘For personnel use only’ and poured the contents on the ground. “You’re gonna need the vitamins from that later professor…” suddenly gray and barren ground turned to green then immediately covered over with snow again. Mr. Castle jumped at this, startled, and looked on the spot in astonishment. “Professor what was…” the old man put up his hand, motioning for him to remain silent. “Sometimes broken dreams need tears to heal…Mr. Castle.” He coughed then sealed the canister again. “Now, on the matter of what it is you want to do here Mr. Castle. I believe you bringing me here has satisfied my curiosity, what do you wish to do here on the barren land?” The man’s countenance of surprise suddenly vanished and was replaced with a gloomy glare. “I…wish to retain the memory of my lies, to repay for any sin that I may have committed, to make up for lost time. Only then can I save my village from certain demise…” The old man stared at him long and hard for a second then got up on his creaking knees, “Please remove your mask Mr. Castle…” he held out his hand for his mask and goggles. “Ah, of course Professor…” “Please, call me Mr. O’Bryan.” “Ah, of course Mr. O’Bryan…” The man removed his empty mask and reflective goggles and revealed a young face, untarnished by the spoils of age and the horrors of war. That of course, was sure to change. Castle handed him the goggles and mask and grinned wide. “Well good morning!” Professor O’Bryan did not chuckle at this and went on with what he was about to say. “Long ago…” Castle sighed at this and murmured under his breath, “Stingy bastard…” “What was that Mr. Castle?” “Um, nothing Professor…” The professor coughed into his hand, a common habit, and started, “Long ago, this land was a meadow, full of joy and splendor. People from all over the land came here just to see how magnificent it was, from the babbling brooks to the plains of wildflowers.” His face adopted a grimmer, gloomier look, even more so than his usual face and he sighed once again, another common habit. “The sun was like an open book, all bright and shining, all the truth that came from him was a blessing on these barren hills. The people thought it would be there forever, but little did the people know, that war was on its way.” Mr. O’Bryan turned his body towards a huge crater in the earth near the heart of the plains. “This crater here is proof that the truth would be filtered through with little white lies, that no secret would be told, no family close, no couple pure. It was a stain on the land, and now that the people are long gone, this crater is a testament to the lies that cover up the truth.” Mr. Castle stared blankly at Mr. O’Bryan for a moment then muttered, “Is this story true…professor?” Mr. O’Bryan turned around towards Mr. Castle, and suddenly his expression grew a bit brighter, “Why yes Mr. Castle,” a single tear dropped onto his crooked face and undone scowl, wrinkled with years of laughter and pain and sorrow. “For I am the one who started that war,” snow started to fall in sheets. “I was the sun that the people had come to love and eventually,” he pointed his crooked crown to the crater, filled with white lies, covering a bright and green truth, “Hate…” The single tear fell from his face and green was revealed on the ground, pale and scarred. That night they decided to set up camp, as it was getting too late. Not to mention the sub-zero temperatures dropped well below what they were previously. Francoise Enable Castle was a priest-in-training that had come from a nearby village, hoping that coming here would provide him with the answers that his people needed. So far he had come up empty and was getting impatient. There was much religious unrest there and he was sent by Father Tarkin to investigate. His village was trying to find a reason to worship the god they had revered for hundreds of years. The village was in a very remote place, nestled between rows of pines and a foggy sky. Long ago his people lived in the place that the crater used to reside. Nobody alive these days could remember it so it was lost to the annals of time and speculation. Just a moment from now Gregory O’Brian, or Mr. O’Bryan as he prefers to be called, told him that he had caused a war that left ‘the Crater’ in the desolate expanse of The White Plains. But that would make him thousands of years old and Mr. O’Bryan looked barely over sixty. He also mentioned something about being the “sun that the people had come to love”. Somehow, Castle had to figure out what was up with Mr. O’Bryan; even if it would risk his personal safety in the process. [spoiler]End of chapter.[/spoiler]
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  • Edited by Tartan 118: 2/6/2015 11:37:43 AM
    Some imagery for Duck: [quote][u][b]Vigilance[/b][/u] The noble beast watches tirelessly, never yielding to the freezing blizzard that whips at him. Relentless flakes scratch at his hide, but he does not bow. His scales are armour, strong as iron, his head held high against the screaming wind, his wings folded, tight as stone. Vigilance is all that matters in this most merciless tempest. And though he can see little in the white storm, he knows he must watch. Always.[/quote] [quote][u][b]The Great City[/u][/b] “Welcome, stranger from foreign lands,” the woman said in an exotic accent. “My name is Heri, and I will be your guide through the Hygarn Empire.” I stood and took the woman’s delicate hand as she assisted me out of the rowing boat. From under my hood, I saw her dark eyes attempting to decipher me, and glanced at the sun-baked dock. “Please, remove your headwear,” she prompted. “It will do you no favours in the heat of our land.” “I will leave it up, if that’s alright with you,” I murmured. “Are you hiding?” she asked rhetorically. “Are you an enemy of Hygarn?” “You tell me.” “Unless you want to give yourself a hot head, you should remove it. Perhaps then you can admire our city.” With a begrudging sigh, I reached up to the sides of my hood and drew it back over my head. The dazzling sunlight blinded me momentarily, before my eyes adjusted, and the grand city faded into view. No description that the Grand Lord told me had done this justice. I was surrounded by an enormous, but shallow sea, the purest blue dotted with green-topped rocks. But above the sea was the city. It did not stand in it. It floated majestically, impossibly, above the azure, soaring spires of gold and silver, the twisting green of trees tapered by the high winds disappearing into the clouds above. From each floating rock tumbled a waterfall, spraying and thundering into the sea below. Before me, an ancient but beautiful set of towers led upwards into the city, people of all races and ages making their way to and fro through the sun-kissed streets. At my side, a genuine smile warmed Heri’s face. “The face of most strangers when they first arrive,” she said. “Come, your chambers await.”[/quote] [quote][b][u]King of New York[/u][/b] There he sat, on his concrete throne, staring down at us; his prisoners, handcuffed and humbled. His mouth was a pale streak of white on a paler face, grinning and leering, his jet black hair jagged to the roof, scythed through with a green and silver bolt. His dark eyes cut into us with demonic vigor. One of his men jabbed the back of my knee with the butt of his carbine. “Bow.” My leg gave way, and we all stumbled to the cracked grey ground. Slowly, I looked up at him. That grin, growing as he stood, and raised his hands. Then his teeth part. “New York, big city of dreams, and you know that I run this town.” His youthful, defiant voice rings underneath the crumbling overpass. His gang is silent, grinning. “The king of the streets, dressed in concrete, skyscrapers on my crown!” His teeth flashed at the remains of the city, a gargantuan sprawl of stunted tower-block apartments, abandoned shopping malls and streets littered with empty cars, weeds shooting up through the cracks. He raised a fist, shaking it in challenge. “So if you want this Big Apple, come try to take a bite! ‘Cos I run this mother-blam!-ing city and I won't give it up without a fight!”[/quote] [spoiler]And yes, that's based on some lyrics to The Lonely Island song, I Run New York.[/spoiler]

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