Random Writings from the Community


#1

So I love to write, then again who on a forum doesn’t… Anyway a while back I started this little series I called the “Evolution of Writing”. A series about… well… objects and their lives. I’d only written one piece of the series but tonight I wrote another and, well, I love this community so I thought I’d share! Everyone else can definitely feel free to post some of their own writings or just read through, comment, whatever you guys would like.

Evolution of Writing – Publication of…

Everyday, sometimes even more than once, a piece of me is torn away. Is it because I am too soft? If so I would harden myself in an instant to avoid such unpleasantness. Or was I simply made this way? Fate, perhaps? If this is fate, though, then it is a foul fate indeed.

The children inside the house laugh and what a joyous laugh it is. I was jealous the first time I heard it, but now I have realized it to be a signal — the signal of my pain. Now only fear follows where that jealousy had once been and with it a strange sense of hope that this will be the last of it. Soon it will be, perhaps, but I must endure for a little while longer.

A man shouts and a nearby door opens. I cannot tell what he said but I hear something bark outside not long after. Yet another reminder of what is to come. I try to steel myself, but the unexpected happens, startling me and leaving me in a daze. Something comes up from behind and grabs me by the head, spinning me round and round then it comes. Only once, but the pain today was unbearable, thrice times anything I’d felt before and I cannot even cry. My life is being plucked away little by little and only serves to foul my filthy soul further.

I look towards the ceiling in envy today. The cold hard surface on which I sit only further alienates me and serves my own distaste in my existence. This day too passes by and yet another part of me is ripped off for another’s mess no doubt. My skin feels like it is melting away inch by inch and soon I will be no more than an empty husk, tossed into the nearest bin and left to my fate. A cruel end to the cruelty I have known, but at least I know it is coming.

Do I feel used? Maybe. No, definitely. My existence thus far has known naught more than envy wrought with pain. Perhaps if I had not this paper-thin shell of mine, I could have been more; more than just one to be used and discarded, more than just an… object. My wishes were nothing more than what they were, and I had no power to make them anything more.

A hand comes down and grabs me. Do I struggle? What for. I know my place in the world and I am less than beast and bug. I can break the chain no more than an ant could topple an elephant and I refuse to try. It is predetermined and I have accepted it.

When I first was created, I was young and foolish. My thoughts were pure and I hoped a bright future ahead of me, a decent and spotless future that could never be stained by any. I was naive. I wondered what would be my role, my existence. My life. If only I had known what lay ahead.

The weeks passed by slowly, painfully, and mercilessly. In the end, I felt an empty shell of my former self, and finally the day came. The shattering of glass could be heard throughout the house. I welcomed the end and waited for it, wistfully remembering all I had gone through. When finally those hands gripped tightly onto me one last time, I fought. I held on, almost glued to that last little bit of life left in me. I did not want to die. I was scared, but did that stop them? My flesh was ripped from my body and I sat naked and afraid. Seconds later, I was thrown to the darkness.

It is quiet now and there is nothing left to give. I am happy and now I am gone.


#2

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this, brilliantly descriptive and such a poetic style,
If you ever do any more (please do!) make sure you let me know! :smiley:


#3

Well then I shall post my first one I wrote about a year ago below here but I can’t guarantee it’s too great XD. Glad you liked it too! :smiley: It’s actually a lot of fun trying to make the reader feel for something you wouldn’t think twice about otherwise. You should try it!


#4

Evolution of Writing – Ledger of…

I am surrounded. The darkness envelops every ounce of my being. I haven’t the power to stop it from seeping in. I can only wait, and finally, as always, my waiting pays off. A bright light flashes inside me. It is a blinding light, yet it allows me sight, however brief, however blurred. I try to focus, to see past this veil, to see what is beyond the shadow-people, but I cannot. I have power, but it’s not enough.

Days pass by in a blur. Light and dark. Dark and light. I am given power only to have it taken away by those more powerful. I am not even allowed movement in this cruel world, I can only sit and wait for those around me to need me. To have use for me, and until then I sit alone in darkness. I reminisce of earlier days. The clanging of metal on metal awoke me one day. I was young then. New. Wondering what this world was and even what I was, what I could do. Not long after I awoke was I shipped to a smaller, quieter place. It was a bright place, one I felt I would gain hope for, but that was short lived. I was put on display, like a common household object until, one day, I was bought. Me. Purchased.

I snapped back to reality as one found need for me. Or so I thought. Instead, the moment I was awoken I was taken from my home. I was happy at first, finally given the chance to look around, but it did not last. I saw glimpses of walls, of shapes and shadows I’d never seen before. Just as quickly as I’d seen them though, they were gone. Through hallways I traveled, through rooms and finally up a ladder. It was dark again. For only a moment was it dimly lit, enough to see a single circular window on the wall, filthy with dust and not a single speck of light trickling in from it. This was to be my new home.

I was left there. Forgotten, allowed to live out my last days in a darkened corner along with all the other unneeded and unwanted ones. I sat with no power. I sat with no life. I sat with nothing but the boxes and other forgotten friends. No. I sat with nothing. Years passed as I conformed to the rest of the room, collecting dust on each surface until, finally, a light came from below. Voices, two, spoke softly, and I was given a chance to escape.

I wanted to run, to get away from this place, but I knew I couldn’t. Instead I was taken once more by these people. They took me to yet another world. This was a new world, one I’d never seen. It was quiet, yet… colorful. Green and blue were a new sight, a welcome sight to the dreary blacks and grays I’d come to know. Blurs came into sight once more, taking my companions from the last home away. Some even came to me, touching me, asking if I worked, picking me up even. I was taken away from my home that day, a place I did not like, but I knew.

I was again moved from place to place. I lived more comfortably, away from the darkness even, but I was tired and my life grew dimmer. Light was always around me, always, never was there a moment of darkness. I was given the chance to help as a man next to me wrote. This too was not my choice. No, it was not my choice but I was, for once, happy to help.

Day in and day out he wrote, never giving me a chance to rest until. I could feel my power waning. I tried to show him, tried to keep going, but I could not and the darkness came. Something inside me broke that day. I panicked and closed my eyes hard. The man removed my veil for the first time in my life, giving me a chance to see the world without the foggy glasses. He walked to a small door, reached high and took some sort of rounded glass object. I was scared as something inside me was removed only to be replaced moments later, but my fear quickly subsided as it came. My light shone once more and my veil stayed off. I watched from my pedestal as the man worked each day. I watched, and I was happy.

Hours turned into days, which turned into weeks, months, and even years. The man aged and so did I. I could see my world becoming blurry and darker each day, I could tell there was not much time left for me. The veil was removed for so long, but lately it seemed like it was still there. Shadows were all that I saw as my last days were spent in the dim lighting I produced. I watched the man write, all these years. He wrote with my light there to give him sight. I knew now that it was my place to be his light, it was my job just as it was his to write, and even though my job was done, his was not. I tried one last time to shine for the man, and that day I did. I shined brighter than ever before, but it came at a cost. Smoke trailed out of me. I watched the man turn towards me just as my light went out. My weakened eyes dimmed, looking back at the blackened shadow of a man and my power waned until finally there was none left.

I could feel myself be picked up near the end, I could feel the warmth being replaced by the cold chill of death and then, in that same instant, all was gone.


#5

beautiful and haunting, love it! Keep this up, friend, you have a gift.

Well since I got a the Hanx typewriter app for my iPad last week I dabbled here and there with a few words, the sound and feel it creates gives this weird sense of a rhythm and fluidity that inspires me so. As a Fine Artist I am interested in the conceptual side, so descriptive writing is not frowned upon in my profession- maybe my tutors would appreciate if I pushed the boat out and tried something new! But well done, Sir! as the author you certainly took control over the reader- your choice of wording is fantastic- and what you chose to not say is even better! I can safely say I have found my muse in your writing, it’s quite inspirational! :blush:


#6

Hmm, I’ll toss down some stuff of my writing.

[quote]I was in line for something, I don’t remember what it was or where, maybe waiting at class? Then some lady crosses my path, running, and I instinctively follow her like I had no choice. A few minutes later, I find myself outside on a building’s balcony. The building looks gated, like a prison, but yet it doesn’t. Again with my instincts, I run as I catch a glimpse of her as she enters the building through another window. I follow through, to find that she freed a prisoner, or more? A criminal? I forget.

Then they escape through the window right as I jump inside. As I look to the window, I find myself frozen in fear while looking at a guy in a black&white uniform. He proceeds to interrogate me about what happened, and I tell him I don’t know and I just try to get by him to escape. I soon found myself between a rock and a hard spot as my only options are to stand down or jump onto a truck that’s several feet below. Not knowing what would happen if I stood down, I jumped - amazingly I landed on the truck without a scratch or anything broken. The truck then pulls away, and as it moves the guy screams that I don’t know what’s going on and that I’ve been infected.

Several hours later or maybe even days later, I’m running into a bar, again based on instincts, and apparently I’m a wanted man. It seems they had broadcast all over the news that I helped with freeing a criminal, that I along with the female am considered armed and dangerous. There’s more though, I immediately scream out that it’s a lie, and that they’re framing me and then I find something peculiar about a bottle. It’s got a familiar face on it, so I demand to talk to the bar owner. My instincts tell me he knows what has happened.

Something eventually happened to my biological mother, like she died or went missing. I can’t quite say, but I remember it leading me to finding my stepmom. I feel like she has a connection, somehow, to what happened. So I track down my stepmom, only to find out she’s been put into an asylum. It’s hard to say why she was. I track the asylum down, wanting answers. So when I arrive, I’m told at first that she wasn’t allowed to have any personal visitors. Since I didn’t like that being as stubborn as I am, it just intensified my thirst for answers. Somehow, I had to sneak in, get past them, or something to find her. So I did, I got a hold of some scientist’s suit and managed to sneak in, and even to me it seemed odd how easy it was. I proceeded to look for her room, which I found eventually.

When I found what I figured was her room, I didn’t just find her room. At least, not even a normal medical room, or the sort. I found an experimental room, with samples all over various desks, and some very crude but obviously advanced tools I’ve never seen before. I was suddenly confronted by several other scientists in lab suits. They commanded to me to leave the room, that I should know security protocol cannot allow me in the room without the proper material. So I walk out, right as I get a glimpse of my stepmom from a window on a door. As I walk away in the hallway, I suddenly turn around and run back. I open the door to see my stepmom in a horrible fashion. Not because she’s naked, but because her body looked mutated. I proceeded to ask her what happens, and at first she looks at me confused like she doesn’t realize who I am, maybe it’s amnesia I accept so I tell her how she knows me. She then proceeds to balk at me with anger and fury, scorned like a devil. I try to calm her down and told her that while I don’t know what happened and wasn’t able to be there for her, I could at least try to get her out of her situation. But she tells me I can’t help, that it’s futile and I should just walk away. I’m frozen in shock because I want to free her.

Then I get yanked back by some guy’s arm in a lab suit. He tells me that I don’t know what I’ve done by coming in the room without a suit and that I more than likely infected her with something that will doom the research. Not sure of what I can do, I nod to him and try to walk away. I step out back into the hallway and start walking towards the reception area. The reception nurse spots me, remembering me from before. Realizing it, I just run for it. Something happened, I blanked out and found myself in some sort of transorganic prison cell. A gateway opens from the front with two alien humanoids walk through with pike-like weapons in their right hands. I can’t understand a word what they’re saying and I ask them what’s going on. They then yank me and carry me through a bunch of gates or hallways of some sort or another. Then they suddenly throw me into some sort of ritualistic chamber. There she stands, my stepmom, or what’s left of her, as she’s just laying there with a symbiotic body.[/quote]

I’ll add some other stuff of mine later.


#7

Sounds like a huge, strange conspiracy that even the bartender knew something. Makes me wonder what’s going on exactly plus his family seems to be involved somehow too. I actually thought the main character would die near the start and come back as a zombie after he was infected but I was on the wrong track there XD.


#8

Very distopian, I liked how you finished the story I defiantly yet there are so many questions to be answerd! My brain can’t take it! :stuck_out_tongue_closed_eyes:


#9

@Jarvis22 it’s your turn to write sooooomething now :P. Even just a haiku or a single sentence, gotta have something!


#10

It came to me in the form of a dream, something I felt I needed to write down.


#11

Oh dear, soooo…muchhhhh…preeaaasure!!
Ha ha
Il see what I can do! :wink:


#12

This is really well done.

However I feel weird reading works written with a 1st person POV. I don’t even know why.


#13

Well as gamers I think we prefer to be a part of the story rather than just being directed so 1st person might feel a little forced or closed off, not to mention I don’t think anyone ever imagined themselves as an inanimate object much in the past so there’s that too.

Oh, and glad ya liked! Feel free to post something of your own if ya want!


#14

It’s probably more of your first point why I find 1st person works kind of weird and awkward. But that’s just me.

I don’t think I’m gonna be posting though. I’m really crappy at writing. So I’m gonna be sitting here waiting for your and others’ work.


#15

I hear you, I only tell something in first-person if it’s me and not someone else. I prefer 3rd-person or 3rd-person historical in everything.


#16

Hmm, I’ve realized I tend to write in first person most often… maybe because I feel it’s easier to show emotion and get the reader to be a part of my characters (or household objects) rather than watching the tale unfold from third person. If I was writing about something historical or already made like Evolve fan fiction for instance, I’d almost definitely write in third person because I wouldn’t feel as confident writing about their emotions and inner thoughts.


#17

“One little, two little, three little fingers…” A young boy’s voice in the darkness called out. Beyond the trees around me, he whispered, then a girl continued.

“Four little, five little, six little fingers…” She spoke softly, like an echo through the wind and past the leaves on the trees. The hauntingly sweet sound entranced me and I felt my lips singing along with them.

My feet brought me forward, though I knew not why. I felt my own fear bottled up, I felt a need to leave; to call for help, but nothing came out.

“Seven little, eight little, nine little fingers…” The boy went again, almost as though he were whispering right behind my shoulder. “It’s his turn, isn’t it?” He asked the girl as they played their little game.

“It is…” She replied. “It’s your turn.” She told me.

My voice came forth to meet their own in unison; drawn out of me, like water from a well.

“One little fingerless man…” We sang together, as I drew my hand up and started gnawing on the only one left on my hand. My teeth cracked and crushed the bone, wrenching it from the rest of my hand until it was free then chewing until it was just soft, bloody bits sinking into my stomach.

(Enjoy your nightmares. I was trying to sleep when that scene popped into my head >_>)