The Forum's Scriptorium

[Nimphy]

The literary equivalent of the Art Museum!  Share your stories here!

[kjeks]

would like to share the one I gave to Fen Shen for christmas here. Yet she has to decide, it is her gift.

[DzigaWatt]

I'd like to share an oldie from some pages back.

"After losing the other eye in a sudden friendly fire, the Legend of Ulmir the great began. No troll nor giant could ever predict his sudden tripping, he never ran from a fray, charging always with a cane in his left and fork in his right. When asked why a fork, he'd answer "A fork?! I thought this sword was light!". His story still travels from mouth to mouth and has stood tall against the lashes of time, his fork standing proud with the other relics of the fallen heroes in the hall of fame, inspiring children and adults alike in the never ending battle."

[Fen Shen]

@Kex: Sure, why not. After all, the audience doesn't know which parts hit the mark and which parts don't.

[kjeks]

@Kex: Sure, why not. After all, the audience doesn't know which parts hit the mark and which parts don't.

To be honest I am not sure myself how near to the truth I got

well here it is. As it is dated back to year 0 and leaves out trolls and the like I feel that it fits better in here than in the SSSS-Scriptorium

have fun

[Nimphy]

I'm writing a piece for a literary competition, but it's long, unfinished and in Italian so I'm not going to post it here. Just a section I wrote lately...

"Some people think that Paradise is a sea of puffy white clouds full of naked children with wings who play the harp all day long, Purgatory a something not better defined, Hell a giant sea of flames with red men with horns and pitchforks. According to others the Afterworld is like a waiting room, giant version. Others think it's perpetual darkness, Honestly I never cared what the Afterlife looked like.

But honestly, I also never imagined that the Afterlife would look like Rome."

[Sigrid Marie]

I'm writing a piece for a literary competition, but it's long, unfinished and in Italian so I'm not going to post it here. Just a section I wrote lately...

"Some people think that Paradise is a sea of puffy white clouds full of naked children with wings who play the harp all day long, Purgatory a something not better defined, Hell a giant sea of flames with red men with horns and pitchforks. According to others the Afterworld is like a waiting room, giant version. Others think it's perpetual darkness, Honestly I never cared what the Afterlife looked like.

But honestly, I also never imagined that the Afterlife would look like Rome."

Oooh, that sounds really interesting! What kind of competition is it?

[Nimphy]

Oooh, that sounds really interesting! What kind of competition is it?

A third year student committed suicide the first day of school. Everyone was sad, but his classmates... well, they were in real need of a psychologist, let's put it like that. But after a while they came back with a few projects to both remember their friend and make everyone reflect upon the importance and beauty of life. We will paint a murales, there's been a biiiiig piece of cloth with all of our signatures in it, and now came a friendly competition, whose theme is, as said, the importance and beauty of life. I'm taking part mainly for Marco (the dead boy) and for his friends, buuut also because I want to write about it. Anyway, I don't expact to win but I'm having fun. The story is about two suicidal girls, who are taken to see Past, Present, and Future Christmas various scenarios of death and struggle for life aaand I kinda want to arrive to an ending where both understand the importance of life. Not very original but it's my little contribute. This part is just after one of them jumped down. And for the record, the Afterlife does not really look like Rome. She's in the actual Rome. (And here comes a story of a friend who just lost someone dear to her and wanted to write about it but did not have the courage. )

[kjeks]

That is a very nice way to remember someone and point to opportunities aside from ending ones life so early.

If ever there is time for translation when that story is done, maybe you might share it a summary with us . Good luck with the story.

[Sigrid Marie]

Dang, I was so pumped about posting something on this thread, but then I came to the realization that I haven't actually written anything post-worthy in years ;n;

[Solovei]

Dang, I was so pumped about posting something on this thread, but then I came to the realization that I haven't actually written anything post-worthy in years ;n;

I've been writing lots but most of it is for roleplays and won't really make a lot of sense out of context...

[LooNEY_DAC]

For any who might find it interesting: http://looney-dac.deviantart.com/art/Camp-NaNoWriMo-July-2013-Day-1-382282968

[kjeks]

I was on a spontanous word race with nimphy, here is the result. I did no further corrections so have fun by finding the mistakes:
The rain went on for hours. Never did he think that he would see so much rain in one go. Where he came from, rain was rare and welcome. Mostly it went on only for a short while. He could breathe about hundred times but then it would have been gone. So when he saw his first rain, he ran outside and jumped joyfully around the yard, while the others were cheering from indoors. They were aware that he had never seen this much water in one gash and also knew, that he had not seen rain in this country before.
That was in the morning though. Noon had passed but he would not have known it by the sky. Its color had not changed a slightest bit, just dully grey hurting the eyes if he looked too intensely. “Why don’t we drown mommy?” he asked. At home rivers would swell and go over the banks when huge amounts went down. Yet the happened only twice in his entire live. It seemed unnaturally that they were not drowning any moment, especially as there was no river bed where the water could have gone. “See the wholes over there?” mommy said “The water goes down there and vanishes” “Vanishes?” he echoed in disbelief. “Why should anyone want all this water to vanish? We could use it for cooking, cleaning and maybe give some to the neighbors!” he exclaimed. His face was a mask of questions. “You made a joke mommy, didn’t you?”
“Listen young one” one of the old men said out of a dark corner “they do not need so save water as we need to do back home. If it rains the water goes down into big pipes. Some of it they save and clean and some goes back into their rivers and ponds”. “Clean water?” Now that was stupid, why on earth should anyone clean something that was not dirty at all? It came from the sky not from the ground! The old men heaved himselv out of the sofa he sat on. “Let me show you something young man, maybe you will understand better”. His hand stretched out for him to take and as his mother gave a short nod he took it and went behind. Through a long, dark corridor they went into a room which was of greyish brown color. The furniture was wooden but worn down from time. In one of the pieces was a metal sink, which seemed to be the destiny of their journey.
“Pull it” the old man kindly said. Carefully he turned the silvery knob around and was amazed about the stream of pure water coming out of the small pipe. Quickly he closed it for he was not thirsty. “You can keep it running, do not fear. They have plenty of it. And thus they clean it, because they want it to be pure and free of mud. They seldom need it for drinking just for washing and playing.”

[Fen Shen]

I wrote... a thing.  ??? (I was supposed to write a book review about a book dealing with everyday life in the Roman Empire... I got distracted a bit.)

This is the first story I've written in English since high school (more than five years ago), so I'll be happy about any corrections.

The shortest escape

She knew she wasn’t stable; she knew this feeling wouldn’t last; she knew they’d catch her eventually. She couldn’t have cared less. The usual mess of senseless messages had ceased to flow through her mind, all these angry and sad voices had shut up for a moment. She felt like she was flying. She was free, if only for now.

Her feet worked the pedals with ease. She had climbed a small hill. At the summit, she stopped pedaling and rolled down on the other side, without moving a muscle but still rushing through the light wood. The ticking of the wheels running at idle fit the lapping and splashing of the small stream that was running alongside the cycle path. Birds sang to greet this first day of spring.

Why had they hid the bike?, she wondered in a small corner of her mind that wasn’t stunned by the beauty of nature around her. This was the best she had ever felt in a long time, maybe even a year. Her long chestnut hair was streaming behind her in the wind and for a moment, she was tempted to let go of the handlebars. As she reached level ground and had to pedal again, the moment of intense joy was gone. Fear and pain started to creep back into her thoughts. They are going to find you. They’ll lock you up once more and you’ll never feel this happy again. She tried to ride faster, but already she felt the energy drain.

No! I will not let this happen! With a final effort, she pushed aside the dark thought and made a sharp U-turn. She had to go back. Only if she came back by herself and hid the bike, they wouldn’t know she had found it. Maybe they hadn’t even noticed she was gone.
The way back up the hill was hard. She was out of breath. The birds now seemed to mock her efforts, they who could fly and escape so easily. Tears started to fill her eyes, but she didn’t stop. Finally the white buildings came back into sight. Although she could barely think clearly through the screams and cries now filling her head, she managed to sneak back in through the creaky old side gate and hide the bike in the small shack that was almost invisible inside the hedge, overgrown by vines for decades.

When she reached the door to her building, she was sobbing and knew she was on the brink of losing it. Before she could turn the handle, the door swung inwards and a stern voice addressed her: „You didn’t think of running away, did you? Poor girl, you know there is no way to escape yourself.“ The woman in the white dress ushered her back into the building, into her room, into her bed. She didn’t resist. Before the drugs knocked her out, she remembered again the happiest moment of her stay in this establishment. One day, she hoped to ride the bike again.

[partofacitygiant]

potential start for a stone age adventure, dated c. 5000HE , it looks like people of stone age repeat words that need repeating.

While we were checking the fish traps on the river yesterday, our acquaintance living far in the south paddled to us, apparently agitated. "I saw a new kind a tree yesterday!", he told us, "only a half a days' trip from here!". We invited him to dine with us and tell us more exactly, though it sounded like a rope of ash, stories of strange trees are always far, far away. A youngster living near us had returned from his Wandering two years before. He had told us of remarkable trees far, far, far in the south, so we told to our acquaintance to ask him. Nevertheless, he obeyed common courtesy and helped us with the traps instead of just waiting there. A new sort of tree? Here?? Have you ever heard such a ludicrous claim???