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Found 5 results

  1. Fear the Night Little Johnny sat upon his bed, the room as black as the hair on his head. He did not move, he did not speak; under his bed, he dared not peek. The darkness brought this every night, the trembling and worry of Johnny's fright. He'd call out for mom every time, and she'd comfort and soothe him with a bedtime rhyme. His nerves were calmed and soon dreaming he'd feel, as mother was right; monsters weren't real. As she left the room she kissed Johnny's head, not knowing what creeped...under poor Johnny's bed.
  2. The Depths Carlisle was a young boy--no older than 10--when he first experienced the great depths of water. His father was his idol and a fisherman, a master angler, really, who worked for Griswold’s Hook, a sport fishing company. It was a summer morning, and Carlisle and his father had just cast-off the rickety wooden dock in the bay. A glowing ball of fire had just begun to crawl above the shimmering blue tide, sending streams of sparkling crystals dancing across the water’s surface. A breeze whispered to Carlisle, but did not yet sing. His father heaved oars--which seemed giant at the time--in and out of the crystal blue, dragging their small vessel through the tide and into open waters to embrace the steady winds. Carlisle leaned over the edge, peering into the unknown depths as crystal transitioned to obsidian. He wondered to himself if fish stared into the light above, curious about a world filled with strange creatures that traveled on land. His father called out to him, something inaudible, lost somewhere between the echo of splashing and his awe-stricken trance. His father spoke again, this time louder, he must have been yelling. Carlisle’s infinite gaze snapped, and he turned to acknowledge the shouts aimed at him. Before his eyes met his father’s he was struck in the temple by the low-hanging boom. The horizon spun rapidly as the waters tumbled upwards to greet him. Before he could gasp he was engulfed in the liquid shadows. The warmth of the water subsided as quickly as he sank, replaced with an icy chill that burned through him while the light above fled from the depths. He panicked, thrashing about heavily and sluggishly. He wanted to cry out for his father, but the oxygen in his lungs would surely be replaced with water. Why did he take off the life jacket his father handed to him on shore? Was it too itchy, too plastic-feeling? Why couldn’t he move faster? What is this disgusting salt in his mouth? Where was the surface again!? Why is it SO COLD!? Suddenly he was in the grasp of something larger than himself, shrouded by darkness. His heart skipped one of its remaining few beats, and he inhaled by mistake. He choked violently, squeezing his chest as the last breath he owned turned to bubbles and spirited away. The water grew warmer by the second, but all he felt was the chill of fear. Even with his eyes shut, he saw daylight as memories flashed against his eyelids. The bike his father got him for Christmas. The time he put hair in his sister’s spaghetti. His mommy cleaning up the blood on his knees, and kissing his bruises to make them all-better. Himself walking down the sidewalk at home, slowly fading off into the distance... The warmth of the sun crashed into his face like a freight train, welcoming him back to life. He gasped, inhaling air like it was his favorite food--pizza. And just like when pigging out on pizza, he choked and vomited, spewing water out of the depths of his soul. Carlisle clung tightly to the shrouded figure, now embroidered in light. It was father. Father hugged him tightly, patting his soaked hair, and whispering to God over and over again. He stared over his father’s shoulder, peering into the abyss that he so narrowly escaped. He thought of the fish, and how terrified they must be when stolen from the depths. How they must gasp so violently for water, as he had for air. Maybe he wouldn’t be a fisherman after-all...
  3. Are you someone who enjoys reading lore? Do you appreciate the fictional history of video games, and have an interest in helping to build such history through story telling and gameplay? Hopefully someone out there has answered yes to at least one of those questions! Or am I all alone in this boat? Cutting to the point; I enjoy creative writing. I won't say I'm great at it or that it's my day job because it certainly isn't, HOWEVER, I do enjoy a bit of fiction and history. I've been tinkering around with writing some fictional lore for various Wurm Online related things, and I had a wonderful -hopefully- idea. Let me write lore for you about your village. It's as simple as it sounds. I'd like to write lore for your village/settlement. If you love your village and are interested in the idea of having written lore to accompany it, please do inquire here or by pm. I will charge you nothing for creating fictional lore for you, and if you don't like the lore provided I won't post it here either for others to read. If you do like the lore and you'd like to pay me for it, pay me with in-game currency in whatever amount you feel is deserved. Again, I repeat, there is no required cost, I'd just like to flesh out the fictional history of Wurm a bit and I might as well do it for other players who enjoy lore as well. Don't be shy, leave a comment or pm me and I'll get back to you quickly.
  4. Well, I've played a grand total of about 12 hours of MMO games in the last two months. As opposed to the 8-16 hours per day that I would put in before. So what have I done with that time? A little original fiction, "Symbiote". 42 chapters in about 2.5 months, for somewhere around 3-4k words per chapter. No, I'm not really bothering to keep track of word count, though I have set a minimum word count per chapter at 3000 as an almost-never-broken rule. I loved crafting in Wurm. I love crafting an entire universe more. Chances are at this point that MMO's are a part of my past, permanently. I'll still piddle around with them every now and then, but my creative urges are very well satisfied by writing Stop by, feel free to throw fruit if you find anything blatantly broken. There are continuity things in book 1 that haven't been cleaned up - I'm up to chapter 1.9 in the final pass editing (will be editing 1.10 today) So what's the story about: One Day, Bob, a random middle aged guy, starts talking to himself and there are two personalities in the conversation. It doesn't take him long to prove that it's not the leftover shrimp lo mein, or a stroke - there really is someone else in his head. He and his symbiote try to make sense of the world, but fail pretty spectacularly at figuring things out despite being reasonably smart because they simply don't know enough to understand what is going on. After a while, most of the basics are answered, but Bob begins to get into a really bad headspace with some of the things he's forced to do. Science Fiction. Present day / near future.
  5. I did a couple searches here and don't see any evidence that Worm has been discussed. Worm is here: Updated two or three times a week, about 10k words per update, since June of 2011. Wildbow is the author, and Worm is wrapping up - the last story chapter happens tonight, then a couple weeks of post story content that has been paid for by donations recently. They doesn't write in some black and white sort of universe, they live in the grey areas. They are also rather good at leading the readers by the nose, sending them off on false trails, and generally not being completely obvious about what will happen next. In other words, it's about 1.5 - 2.0 million words of pretty good fiction, cut up into little chunks of 10k each, most of which have some of cliffhanger or hook at the end. It even inspired me to try to blow off 25 years of writing rust and do a fanfic, which, in turn, will lead to me doing some original fiction, I hope It's a good read folks, unless you just can't stand the superhero genre, or fiction in general, you will probably like it.