Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Description Prompt

(Hope you like it, Cori ;D Thanks for the challenge~)
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His eyelids fought to open against the drug-induced sleep. Finally, russet irises looked out, contrasting to abnormally pale skin “Hello?” his voice broke at the end as he slowly shifted into a seating position, floppy blonde hair falling into his eyes. His throat was unbearably dry; how long had it been since he last drank? Attempting to clear his throat, he rose unsteadily, head pounding in protest at all the movement.
All he could hear was a faint tumbling with an occasional clunk of metal on metal. A washing machine? He doubted it. The whole room was grungy and smelled faintly of mildew. There was no way that anyone who lived here did the laundry very often. Or ever, for that matter.

Hand to his head, he hobbled over to the beaten door and turned the knob. He hadn’t really expected it to open but when the cool brass pulled right out and sat unhelpful in his hand, he let out a soft “Oh” of disappointment.

Vision clearing, he noticed a small basin of water. Within two steps, he was downing the whole thing at a reckless pace only to cough it back up. Tossing the metal bowl aside, he got down on all fours, willing himself not to throw up. The sterile, stinging taste of bleach was ludicrously strong in his throat. “H… help!” he gulped back breath, stomach writhing in protest.

8th Avenue. It was the only thing he could recall. His auburn eyes glanced around frantically. He knew that he was going to get worse rapidly. He had to get out. Whoever took him obviously didn’t care too much for his well being.
His body shivered as a slight breeze tugged his hair. Still on his knees, he nearly shouted when he found a small window. It was blocked from view behind plywood but he could see a crack of light peaking through. Crawling, he took hold of the board and wrenched. Rusted nails prevented it from coming right off but the light was a steady stream now. “Come on!” Putting a foot against the concrete wall, he yanked again. It pulled free, splinters piercing his fingers as he moved up to his escape.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Entry 1

(sorry! I have two creative writing journals that I work on and I often forget that I haven't posted any of it on here) -------
July, 2318

To whatever form of humanity survives,
They left us here to die on our own. And why not? We're convicted felons, the dregs of society, their lab rats.
There used to be peace talks broadcasted to the world but those stopped nearly a decade ago. After that, no one bothered to have hope anymore. Even the Lunar colonies shut their borders, threatening to destroy any vessels that approached.
I don't know who struck first. It was a dud, landing harmlessly in the Atlantic. There wasn't even so much as a splash. It was still enough. They said that the islands of Yamato fell first; their main nuclear plant was hit, reducing half a billion to ash. The rest of the world wasn't far behind. Asianic, the United North, the Eastern Confederacy, and the Soviet States, they fired weapons like children throwing toys during a tantrum. New reports were coming in constantly about cities flattened, countries burning and millions of voices being silenced at every turn. I could feel the walls around me shudder as if the Earth itself was sobbing.
All for land. For nearly a century, the majority of the population has been crammed and shoved into every square inch that technology could make habitable, but buildings could only go so high before they're knocked about by the wind or tumbled by tremors in the Earth. Even before I came here, the sheer desperation was stifling. Naturally grown food was scarce, it seemed to be forever hot and there was simply nowhere to grow. That was nearly fifty years ago when they took me for experiments with Extension.
Now there's only silence. The Guards have all gone and there's no Sunlight peering through the cracks anymore. Only three of us remain but I doubt Alexander will last much longer. If we're lucky, Maximus and I won't be very far behind.
I pray to whatever powers that be to let something of mankind survive to read this so the horror of such a war will never be forgotten. No matter the time or technology, it's still humanity's greed that is the worst plague of all.
May the Almighty have pity on our souls.

Kalina Christner
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It's from the (yet to be titled) story that I'm currently working on :D She's actually not the main character but I really like her~
Yay for posting~

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Class Challenge

One of the writing prompts from our book is to write an outrageous reaction to something insignificant:

Of course the printer is going to have a break down right at the exact moment that I need it. Ka-clunk, ka-clunk! Not only does it refuse to work but it's mocking me too! That stupid, pathetic, evil blinking green light. It's taunting me. It says 'I could work if only you knew how to use me properly'. Tch. Does it do this with anyone else? No! Someone else comes in and the magic voodoo of the printer makes it work just fine. They leave and boom! It hates me. I swear it hates me. It's conspiring to ruin my whole life.

Guess I'll have to print the picture somewhere else...
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Surprisingly fun to write. Poor printer <3 I love you.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Reina's Doctor/Holmes Request

"Is kissing a girl supposed to look like that?" Sherlock stared dryly at his colleague as he had the good Dr. Sawyer pressed up against the wall. Did they really think that because they were in another room, nobody could see inside? "I have... no idea" the Doctor's nose wrinkled, hands wringing together as his cheeks tinged pink. He'd had women he loved and even children but he still blushed at things like this.
The detective sighed, turning away to give his friend a modicum of privacy "I mean... the mechanics aren't really all that difficult, I just don't get why people want to do it all the time. There are so many other things to spend time on"
"Time" the taller man laughed before paling slightly "Kissing just makes you feel awkward and nervous and scared to death and you're always just a little bit rubbish... Especially when they just sort of launch themselves at you" he puckered his lips absently, remembering his first kiss with River Song.
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My idea has run dry. XD Can't think of how to finish the idea without making it sound super cheesy so I'm ending here~


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Original prompt:


Sherlock Holmes out-clevering the Doctor.
First attempt:
Sherlock's eyes narrowed, his upper lip curling ever so slightly. This man, this 'doctor' comes out of nowhere, telling him he's got it all wrong and not to touch anything. He knew how crime scenes worked! He'd been solving thefts and murders at the same age that most children were learning how to drive their parent's car! "What are you doing?" his impatience was etched into his voice.

"Something... complicated. That's what I'm doing." the Doctor said absently, scanning the puddle of goo with the Kallibrean stone his second cousin's wife's brother's two headed bird had given him before sticking a pinkie right in the middle. It was warm.

"Stop that!" Sherlock jerked the bow tie man off, thoroughly angry. He was supposed to be the eccentric one. He always thought that the stories Mycroft told him were attempts to make him look like an idiot. Apparently, his brother had the occasional good notion. "This is no concern of yours

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couldn't think of anything after this that would allow Holmes to win so I just stopped and tried another route :) And that's what the top was.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Senses Prompt

Another prompt from my class. Imagery has always been my weakness. This time, I tried to describe two different scenes using all five senses.

Scene 1:

Mildew mixed with the sweat, grunge and general unwashed stench of a man who was adverse to bathing.  The taste made me gag. A single lightbulb flickered ominously overhead, threatening utter darkness. Only the sounds of rats scurrying about on the stone floor were louder than Garret's heavy mouth breathing. We squated in the sweltering heat. Waiting...

Scene 2:

Blinding white refused to let Aeryn's eyes adjust as he stumbled from the thin cot. The scent of bleach made his lungs burn, adrenaline fueling his panic. "Hello?!" His palms smacked against the smooth, cool walls, blinking futilely against the light. He had to find a door. A handle. Anything that could get him out. There was no response. No sound above his racing heart.

Cold Blooded (Writing Prompt) Part 1

The prompt that my brother gave me:
"The giant raptor's claw rushed towards Ceci's face like a steam train.
Not again, she thought."

Ready, set, GO!

Dropping to her stomach, the rush of air from the animal's movement ruffled her hair. A close call. "I thought I told you to keep the cages locked at all times!" she barked to the control room. Dozens of eyes stared down with cruel curiosity, safely tucked away behind steel and thick glass. Typical. They always kept the Assets safe and secure no matter the cost to Mundanes. Rolling in the dirt to avoid the second strike of the angered mother, she scurried to the far side of the oval room. A filthy floor coupled with walls so white it hurt her eyes to look at them. It was funny... in a cruel way.
The raptor roared, reclaiming Ceci's attention. Head thrown back, she clawed madly at the air. She wanted her babies. Though the animal's arms were short, the claws were still lethal. The Primers hadn't done their job.
Staggering to her feet, Ceci shifted constantly, attempting to stay in the creature's blind spots as she inched towards the large steel door. Stay calm. To go out like this after all she'd been through? Derek would've laughed. Her thoughts snapped back when a clank sounded behind her. The door was closing. They weren't waiting for her to get out. Could she make it?
Yanking her left boot off, she flung it to the opposite side of the room. The Raptor's head snapped to the loud thump, letting Ceci dash towards another day of life, forced to slide out on her belly. High on adrenaline, she looked herself over. No finger or toes missing. Her hat was currently crushed under several tons of solid metal. A soft curse escaped her. She'd loved that hat!
Dusting herself off, she brushed her short ebony hair from her face, several sets of thin scars running along her left cheek. A hat and a boot gone. They would set her back at least a week. Relatively calm, she marched straight towards the main deck. Her annoyance and lack of a left shoe made the limp in her right leg more prominent as she barged in.
"I-It was an accident" Avin stuttered, glasses slipping down his sweat-slick nose as he interpreted the lights and beeps of the machines at the back of the room, wringing his hands together nervously as he tried to understand the problem. Ceci was not the kind of woman one provoked. "P-Please don't be angry..."
Ceci's eyes narrowed. He always wrung his hands when he lied. Still, it was sweet of him to try and defuse the situation. If she attacked an Asset, it would be the last thing she would ever do.

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That's it for now but I actually really like what I've done so far and might write more on this later. I already have lots of ideas for what will come.

Attempt at a poem

White wings spread, feathers brushing the sky till tips glow with the rising sun.
Chains bite, dragging back down and grounding, refusing flight.
Battered, bruised, unbroken, wings slowly unfold once more, shaking away doubt and despair.
Growing wide, soft wafting wind catches them up, lifting till they break the unbelieving bonds.
Pulling up, reaching towards the clouds, arms stretch out for the radiant future.
Fingertips brush the light, burdens holding back, keeping tomorrow just ought of reach.
Forced behind by cares, arms open wide, accepting the warming rays so freely given.
A smile dances upon a pair of lips.

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Obviously went for imagery over rhyme. I've never really written a poem before. While writing this, I thought about Emily Dickinson's "Hope" and just sort of went off on my own tangent of that idea. This will probably be one of the few (if not only) poems that I will write since my focus is fantasy fiction.