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A writing exercise
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Darqcyde



Joined: 11 Jul 2006
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Location: A false vacuum abiding in ignorance.

PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 4:05 am    Post subject: A writing exercise Reply with quote

So I've been swearing for the past few years I was going to start writing again, something I used to do A LOT. Anywho here's something I wrote in about 7 hours over two days in a top lift shack. There wasn't much thought or planning into it, it just sort of came out. Please feel free to be brutal, I'll be sadly disappointed otherwise.

Omar A. Drake wrote:


Today

It was the kind of shit that couldn't wait, the kind you hated to take but when it was over you felt relief beyond words. That was the kinds of shit Drew Palant was enduring this morning. Brought on by a night of heavy drinking, spicy food, and way, way too many cigarettes it was to be expected. Hell, it would've been really a shocker if his bowels were "regular", but what the fuck did that mean anyway. As far back as he could, as he cared to remember this was his regular. Every night he swore an oath that he was through and everyday he broke it.

Today would be different though. Today, he would not break his oath, would not get a chance to. Drew never drank before 3 o'clock. Today none of that mattered. Today, he would be dead by noon.

As he finished wiping his ass he started to prep himself mentally. He got ready to deal with the assholes, retards, and lazy-fucks he called co-workers. He readied himself for the mountains of paperwork. Drew steadied himself for the dick-trickle stream of interrupting, mostly unnecessary, phone calls. He psyched himself up for the endless, monotonous daily "brief"-ings with the top brass. In the midst of this routine he had an epiphany: Today was Sunday, the Lord’s day, and the only day he had off. He couldn’t remember the last time he went to church. He wasn’t sure if he had ever even opened a bible. Drew definitely wasn’t a religious man, not even really a spiritual man. But every Sunday, every week, he said a little prayer of thanks to whatever power granted him at least this slight respite. His was a communion of coffee and cigarettes, little things he felt kept him from going over the edge.

The scritch of the lighter’s flint. The filling warmness of mentholated-smoke. The edge dulling relief of exhalation. This would all then be followed by the purifying, invigorating elixir of Java, heavy cream, and lots of sugar. It washed away the night’s ick on his tongue and teeth. It scalded away the half-dried mucus clinging to the back of his throat. Best of all, it warmed his gut, letting him know that he wasn’t as empty inside as he often felt. As he finished the second cup another need started to consume him. It was primal, bestial. His mouth desired a salty, smoky taste. His ears sought to be filled with the crackle of fat being rendered. His teeth wanted bacon. And hash browns, extra crisp almost fried like a croquette. And two eggs over easy, that way he could dip his toast in the yolk. And the toast, two slices of rye golden brown with butter slathered on. Most of all though, he wanted the bacon.

As he lit up again he glanced at the microwave.

10:20

He should have noticed it was Sunday sooner by his bowels, not his alarm clock waking him up. He’d like to be able to congratulate himself for having at least that small piece of mind but he knew that wasn’t the case. Robotically he set his alarm every morning before he left the house. As usual, he had sally to thank.

As usual she was gone long before he awoke. Even when she had a cold, a rare occurrence, considering the hundreds of weekends she stayed over, she was never there in the morning. He figured it was her way of keeping a “professional” relationship, but they had gone beyond that point a long time ago. He knew her birthday. He kept tampons in the bathroom. He even knew real name. That was the one thing, among countless long and deep conversations they had, that she refused to reveal. She said it would change and ruin everything and he accepted that. They barely ever fucked anymore, not that she charged him anymore anyhow. She claimed it was barter, boarding for companionship, and he accepted this as well. He had needed to know her real name, though, when he decided that she would be the sole beneficiary of his will. Between his 401k and other investments, life insurance policies, and his physical assets it would be enough to last her three lifetimes. He looked at the clock again.

10:35

Lord did his mind wander.

He was almost three hours past the cut-off for the breakfast special at Rose’s on the corner. Being this late he figured he may as well shower and make the six block hike to Comptons’s Pancake House. Not only was the food better but most of the waitresses there were cute enough to make him pop wood with just a smile.


* * * * *

He glanced down at his watch as he locked the front door.

10:57

He grabbed a copy of The Post from Teddy’s ‘Newsstand’. Fuck kiosk. Fuck them hard. He hated change, especially trendy bullshit like calling a newsstand a “kiosk”. He had been to Europe dozens of times early in his sales career and never again wanted anything to do with it.

Thirteen minutes after leaving his house he was walking through the door of the diner. He found an empty booth in Sherry’s section, not that there was much option. The other side of the smoking area offered a view of the street, some thing he normally sought. Unfornately it also offered the services if that cunt-rag Anne. Twenty years and she still treated him like shit. It was probably because he never said sorry for cheating on her with her sister. Don’t shit where you eat he supposed but whatever, that was life. Besides, Sherry was half Anne’s age with tits twice as big and loved to showcase’em. More importantly she never let his coffee cup go empty, something infinitely more valuable than any masturbation fodder.

They still were nice to look at though he thought as she poured his first cup of joe.

“Usual hon?”
“You betcha.”

* * * * *

He glanced down at his watch as he finished the last cup of coffee.

11:53

Twenty bucks sounded like a good tip he thought. Ten for the service and ten for the show. That was why girls like her showed their tits off after all; he figured might as well make her effort worth it. Probably had kids or a habit or both, he didn’t care. He left the paper, a gift for the next patron. He only got it to check the lines anyhow.

* * * * *

As the crosswalk turned green his last thought was that maybe he should use some of that vacation time he’d been accumulating all these years. Drew glanced up at the bank clock. It flashed 58°, then 11:59.

He never noticed the civic barreling through the red light or the squad cars chasing behind it. His brain never even had time to register the pain of both his legs being broken in several places since a split second later his skull was through the windshield, his neck broken istantally. This is what killed him, not that the corner would bother with an autopsy on him anyway.

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Last edited by Darqcyde on Mon Feb 12, 2007 7:21 am; edited 1 time in total
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Dro



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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 4:20 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I didn't like the start.

It did manage to carry out a reasonable amount of exposition without too much actual exposition.
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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 4:35 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm looking for the point, and I can't find it. If it's a character piece, the character is 2-D, like some sort of detective novel that could be made into a film noir. I mean, I wasn't shocked, or interested, or anything.

I realise that is rather brutal, but I'm being honest... Confused
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sporko



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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 5:18 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I couldn't really find a point either. It was superfluously crass, and the language was jilted and choppy while trying far too hard to be vernacular. There was no character development and minimal plot; the tone was mostly emotionless and leaned so far into the i-don't-give-a-shit direction that i, as a reader, also did not give a shit. There is also a lot of detail that just does not go -anywhere-...it's one thing to be descriptive; it's another to be wordy.

The touch of misogyny helped repel me, too, but I think that's more a personal response.
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Celaeno



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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 7:44 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

It strongly reminded me of Stranger than Fiction.
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Arc Tempest



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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 7:59 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Gotta agree with dro, great job carrying information but the start was more than a little strange. Discussing shitting habits and following it with HE'S GONNA DIE - NONE OF THIS MATTERS just turns ya off.

Good pacing though.
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trustedfaith



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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 12:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm not sure what you're exactly looking for. I am having a hard time reading certain parts of it because of your comma splicing. Also, you're using colons when you should use semi-colons. Things like proper names aren't capitalized, and some spelling errors are in there. I'm not sure if you're looking for that sort of stuff, or just comments on the content.

I like things such as "communion of coffee and cigarettes." That was a good description.

Be careful how you word things as well. If you're going to use "As usual" in one sentence, the next shouldn't start with it again. That's just my personal opinion.

This sort of thing, in my opinion, should draw me into the character where I am just starting to really get into their life before they're killed off. The problem with your piece is I didn't. I had to fight the urge to speed read, and find out how you ended it.

You oddly described things of unimportance (I thought anyway) with great detail, and other things that could have used more description weren't given more than a couple words.

If it was your intent to write about a boring character, and his boring life until he died then you've accomplished it. You should really go back and edit this piece if you're serious about it.
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rm



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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 2:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

besides a flat character and a less than compelling story, your sentence structure could use some work. it's very awkward at times. for instance, this...

"Brought on by a night of heavy drinking, spicy food, and way too many cigarettes it was to be expected."

is very cumbersome. I'd rewrite it like this...

"It was to be expected after a night of heavy drinking, spicy food, and way, way too many cigarettes."

if you went back through and edited the whole piece this way I think your ideas would flow better. reading this was like rowing a boat through choppy waters.

you need to find a believable voice, not just for your character but for your style too. this is a mish-mash. something I do and that you may want to try is completely rewriting the story by editing your way through it several times. make your run-on sentences shorter. use more periods, less commas. add better descriptives. shift paragraphs around. whatever it takes to make it new.
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Snorri



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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 3:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

PENISPENISPENISPENISPENISPENISPENIS!
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Darqcyde



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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 10:27 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Lots of great advice. Thank you all. The colon/semi-colon thing are typos I missed. I purposefully chose to not edit this before I posted it. I needed to know just how poor of a writer I've become. As for the character and story I wanted forgetably ordinary and simple. I guess in a way then that was a success. I don't think I wanted him to be liked or cared about. I couldn't come up with a good intro and I wanted to at least write something complete so I figured jumping right into the begining of his day would be the best way.

Again, thank you all.
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Lasairfiona



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PostPosted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 11:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I kinda liked it though I couldn't tell you why. The paragraph where it states that he is going to die needs to be changed. It goes from third person from inside his head to their person wide. It is confusing. It sounds like he knows he is going to die which obviously isn't the case (the next paragraph has him "looking forward" to the whole day, not just up until noon). The other part where I got confused was the name of the prostitute. How did he get her real name if she never told him? Just stating that he needed it for his will doesn't explain where he got it. Did he do some detective work or did she finally give it up?
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Darqcyde



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PostPosted: Tue Feb 13, 2007 12:02 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Lasairfiona wrote:
I kinda liked it though I couldn't tell you why. The paragraph where it states that he is going to die needs to be changed. It goes from third person from inside his head to their person wide. It is confusing. It sounds like he knows he is going to die which obviously isn't the case (the next paragraph has him "looking forward" to the whole day, not just up until noon). The other part where I got confused was the name of the prostitute. How did he get her real name if she never told him? Just stating that he needed it for his will doesn't explain where he got it. Did he do some detective work or did she finally give it up?


OH SHIT yer right! Embarassed Embarassed Embarassed yeah I guess I forgot that part, but I did intend to mention that. I'm guessing I forgot because that's where I stopped inbetween days.
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Darqcyde



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PostPosted: Mon Nov 08, 2010 9:10 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok so I've written some more stuff, and I think I'm just starting to improve slightly (I say this with zero sarcasm). Here's something that might become part of something larger but I'm not quite sure yet. Critique away (oh I know there's typos and what not):

**********************************************


In the shadow of the massive hemlock the day was still warm and bright yet comfortably cooled by a light southwestern breeze. Enjoying a few more moments like this was more than enough reason for Jokahna to cloud gaze even long after her basket was heavy with berries. She didn’t know how many more moments she would have like this, especially since that letter had arrived. She hoped the coming harvest would be as plentiful as troubles had been these past few weeks. The first sprinkles of mischief had come from the hens refusing to lay eggs. Her gran’ma said something was upsetting them and that they wouldn’t lay again were settled again. Once her brother found the hole the dogs had dug the birds went back to business a couple of days later. Two days after that was when the ‘candy bear’ chased her in this very clearing.
She glanced up at the Hemlock.
Up that very tree, second branch up...her head suddenly swirled again. Jokahna still seemed to get dizzy every time she concentrated on that memory too much. It was that very vertigo that dissuaded her from telling anyone about what had really happened with the bear. Unfortunately this made it that much more difficult to explain the letter to her gran’ma when it arrived from the castle.
A summons wasn’t technically a letter she supposed. That’s what the messenger said it was, but it still seemed suspicious to Jokahna since it contained only her name as a heading, no salutation, no apparent seals, and only someone called “The Magistrum”’s signature on the bottom. The body of the notice was so short she had memorized it almost instantly. Almost without thinking she spoke it out loud to herself.

“The heretofore amentioned person has been found guilty of using unlicensed high magic and will report for an official inquiry when summoned or ready to confess ‘I was guilty’...” which ever comes first she thought, but never got to say since suddenly her world grew black, then brightly swirled and went dark again. She sat up, the feeling of cold stone flooring beneath her. As Jokahna’s eyes grew used to the darkness she realized there were eleven faintly glowing orbs around her. The orb directly in front of her started to hum the flared brightly. As if to reply all of the other orbs resonated in harmony then added there own light with the first’s. As her eyes adjusted again Jokahna realized each orb now had a unique silhouette, some suggesting human outlines while others—her thoughts were cut-off as a voice boomed in her head:

The official inquiry of Ellennara Jokahna Illustremius Fordikinnen Ralastriel Allmartanus IV, Duchess-apparent of Hillford will now commence. Does the defendant wish to invoke royal privilege and make an opening statement before the charges are read?

Excuse me but I believe you have made a grave error great sir. My name is Jokahana Ralanus Hillford. I don’t know what any of—

We would remind the guilty party that ignorance of the law is not ground for innocence and the Magistrum will take all statements made towards such effect as admissions of guilt. The Magistrum also reminds the defendant that use of an assumed alias does not negate charges placed upon an individual. If there are no other statements to be made then we will commence with reading the charges.

If this is about what happened when the candy bear attacked I couldn’t help it. I was gonna die and suddenly I...I dunno...I melted into the tree. It was like the one time one of the seasonal workers attacked me and I melted into the mattress. I just suddenly got really scared and wished I would disappear. It was the same both times.

Very well. Let the records show the Magistrum acknowledges and accepts both use of royal privilege of statement and admission of guilt as well as admission of additional offenses. The Magistrum will therefore commence with the official sentencing inquiry.

You mean I’m guilty? When was there a trial?

The Magistrum determined your guilt the instant we became aware of your crime, which is to say the instant you committed it. You then here, moments ago, confessed to committing the act in question, illegal unlicensed use of high magic, not once but twice and in addition admitted to committing same said violation on a prior occasion unbeknownst to the court, all of which before the reading of formal charges could be done, did you not?

Well I suppose I did but I didn’t do anything wrong.

The Magistrum once again reminds the guilty party that ignorance of the law is not grounds for innocence and further outburst by the guilty proclaiming such, especially after having made multiple confessions, will not only invalidate leniency granted by confessing but will also result in additional punishment being incurred. The Magistrum will therefore commence with the official sentencing inquiry.

I...uh...ok then, inquire away.

The Magistrum acknowledges the guilty party’s acceptance of sentencing inquiry commencement also as mutual acceptance of charges unread, yet three times confessed to by the guilty party. Let the inquiry begin: What is your name?

I...are you...? My name is Jokahana Ralanus Hillford, although you folk claim otherwise.

The Magistrum has noted that her highness Ellennara Jokahna Illustremius Fordikinnen Ralastriel Allmartanus IV shall hereby be referred to as the alias ‘Jokahana Ralanus Hillford’. How old are you?

She now completely gave up. Well, I might as well go along with this farce. She glanced down at her basket of berries, still between her legs. Well at least she wouldn’t be hungry, for now...

I’m fifteen years old. In three months time I’ll be celebrating my 16 with my Woman’s Passage. It’s the same day as the harvest festival. My gran’ma will bake her pies and there’ll be roast and I’ll receive her wedding dress to use as my own.

The Magistrum acknowledges and accepts this date as confirmation of the guilty party indeed being her highness Ellennara Jokahna Illustremius Fordikinnen Ralastriel Allmartanus IV. Where do you reside?

I live in my gran’ma’s house. I think it was built by my gran’pa Pelstern’s gran’pa but it might even be older, my gran’pa wasn’t sure when he told me. It’s the only stone walled house in the village. It’s also closest to the lake, with a big boat house on the lakes’ north shore, it’s right next to the silo and across the stream from the mill. My gran’pa said he helped his pa and brothers build that new mill after bandits torched the old miller’s fields and mill. He said that even though the miller had lost his family and been left lame he still told them how to rebuild the mill. My gran’uncle Florent’s family have been the millers in our village ever since. My gran’pa continued on the farm and with the orchard since he was the oldest. Their youngest brother Gralthorn had taken up fishing in his youth but left before he was nineteen for a life at see. Gran’pa said he never saw him after that—

The Magistrum acknowledges and accepts the guilty party’s relations to the former Duke Reglathar Pelstern Illustremius Fordikinnen Ralastriel Allmartanus as well as his siblings the Count Traflagar Florent Ralastriel Allmartanus and the Count Moravogar Gralthorn Ralastriel Allmartanus. Where exactly is the farm and village mentioned located?

As I said, our farm is located on the north shore of Lake Hillford, which I always thought was a funny since ‘How could a hill also be a ford?’ I always thought. Anywise, our land is pretty much the south end of the village. But it’s really my cousins’ and uncles’ and aunts’ land too, but my gran’ma’s house where I live is definitely the main part. The village is also called Hillford in case you didn’t know, but you probably do, but you’re asking me so I’m telling you. And what’s with all this me being called a duchess and my gran’s being dukes and counts? We’re simple workin’ folk and except for my weird—

The Magistrum acknowledges and accepts the guilty party’s residence as being one and the same as the official royal summer cottage on the shores of Lake Hillford. With whom exactly do you live with? Only mention those in your own dwelling and not all of the extemporaneous, non-famial relations.

Well that’s easy enough then. There’s only my gran’ma, I’m named after her, and my brother, Gliffpern. He’s only fourteen but he looks about twenty-four though act’s worse than if he were four...months old that is. That is a man-child if there ever was one. He’s barely got sense enough to wipe—

The Magistrum acknowledges and accepts the guilty party’s relation to her highness the former Grand Duchess Ellennara Jokahna Illustremius Fordikinnen Ralastriel Allmartanus II, former headmaster of the Magistrum Symposium. The Magistrum furthermore acknowledges and accepts the guilty party’s relation to—
Suddenly one of the other orbs flared to life and a deeper, raspier voice interrupted the main speaker. The Magistrum has not reached a consensus on this issue, moreover it is not of any immediate relevance to this case and need not be discussed any further during these proceedings. With this the second orb died back down a little and again the voice came solely from the sphere in front of her. Very well then, we shall continue. What arcane skills has the former headmaster of the Magistrum Symposium imparted to you?

Um...I really don’t know what all this business about my gran’ma being some headmaster of this ‘Magustrum Imporium’ or whatever. She has taught me a lot about survival and how to live though. She taught me to cook and clean and weave and knit. She taught me about our crops, the barley and the wheat and the greens, how to plant in Springtime, maintain in Midsummer, reap at Harvestime and prepare and preserve during the Hardfrost. It was my gran’pa though that showed me how to tend to the livestock and how to forage for berries in the woods. He also taught bits about fishing and tracking and even how to make snares. He never would show me how to handle a bow like my brother though. He said there wasn’t a point since there would be “things getting in the way soon ‘nuff” but when I got stronger he promised to at least show me how to load a crossbow “just in case”...or so he would have if he were still around. I suppose he meant that these here—

The Magistrum has no time for your recitation of your proficiency in mundane task nor does it wish to hear your theorizations as to your physical condition and its respective limitations. We ask again what arcane skills has the former headmaster of the Magistrum Symposium taught you?

That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t know any “arcane skills” or whatever it is you’re talking about. I’ve lived the life of a farmer for as long as I can remember. If we’re not taking care of each other we’re tending to our crops or our animals. If wasn’t for revelry at night my whole life would be nothing but work. Why do you think I was out in the forest to begin with when that candy bear attacked me? Berry picking is one of the few times I get some time to myself.

For the first time since the questioning began there was a very long silence. The voice came back with no warning, giving no indication of what, if anything, had transpired during the silence.
The Magistrum will get to the matter concerning this so-called ‘candy bear’ in a moment. Explain further what you mean by these ‘nightly reveries’?

Not ‘nightly relveries’, just revelry. We partook in night ones but other folks might have their at other times or for other occasions. It’s just sharing songs and making music together.

Explain further.

Well my gran’pa would play flute, with my brother ‘trying’ to play flute also. My gran’ma and I would then sing songs along with them. Some were happy, some were sad, some were short and some were long. Sometimes, on special occasions, gran’ma and gran’pa did special songs that sounded like none other. They were...eerie...kinda sad but...different. I don’t know what language they were in but gran’ma told me that once I was a woman she would teach them to me as well. She said they were the most important songs of all and had been sung even back before her gran’ma’s gran’ma’s time...Oh! And there are dances too! We dont’ dance much normally, maybe a jig or such when the men have the first cider but I remember gran’ma saying something about the dances she did. Were they more important or as important as the songs...I think it was more.

The Magistrum acknowledges and accepts the guilty party’s admission of knowledge of the rudiments of the ‘Spell Weaving’ manner of spell crafting, a discipline noted as being the former headmaster’s specialty. The Magistrum would now like an explanation as to what exactly a ‘candy bear’ is as well as the exact spell type used that was used against it.

Don’t you ‘Magistrum’ or whomever you are know how to listen? I didn’t use any spells or any magic or any other such wizardry. I’m a simple farm girl who knows simple farmer traditions. When the bear attacked me I did nothing more than wish as hard as I could. I wished with all my willpower that I would just disappear. The way the bear acted, if I didn’t know any better, I think I didn’t disappear. It was like I forgot to breath...Jokahna briefly wondered if she could do that again but quickly realized she had no idea what would come of her suddenly disappearing. She also had no clue what she would do after that. A bright flash cut that line of thought before she could follow it further. Suddenly a new voice, almost feminine, boomed behind her.

I, by the powers vested in me by the office of Grand Sinister Adjudicator, hereby call for the immediate one-week suspension of these proceedings on the grounds of verifying impartiality amongst the Magistrum, as per the Supreme Dictate of the Magistrum.

The other orb, which had lit up before, once again flashed and issued forth its sinister tone. You call for an examination of impartiality? Hasn’t your biased already—
The new voice cut it off as it had the first voice: Which is why I am not taking part in these proceedings, however, my authority still stands. The Magistrum cannot refuse this, this is a dictum, not a recommendation.

After a second long pause the first orb spoke again: The Magistrum capitulates to the will of the Grand Sinister Adjudicator and will hereby suspend proceedings until a full evaluation to verify impartiality amongst the Magistrum can be carried out by the Grand Adjudicators’ office.

Jokahna wasn’t entirely sure of what was going on but she thought she got the gist of it. So does that mean I get to go home now? What about this official inquiry and sentencing?

The ‘sinister sphere’, as she’d come to call it, flashed and answered:
Ask the Grand Sinister Adjudicator when you see her.

All of the orbs started to hum loudly and grew brighter until suddenly, for the second time that day, her world grew black, then brightly swirled and went dark again. This time her eyes adjusted quicker and she realized she was at the kitchen table. Before the vertigo completely subsided her gran’ma was coming down the stairs. She hands were outstretched at the elbows and holding a now-familiar large orb laying on top of a large red pillow. The sphere lit up and she heard the ‘Grand Sinister Adjudicator’s’ voice though it, this time though she also heard her gran’ma speak at the same time.
I’m sorry you had to learn things this way. We only have a week and there’s a lot to teach and tell you.

Ok gran’ma. You start, I’ll just listen.

**********************************************

The goal was to write an interview, like for a magazine or newspaper, or as a job interview, or even as an interrogation. The main point was to flesh out a character through a question-and-answer style piece. Some exposition was allowed and...I just kinda got carried away. I based this off of the beginning of an action scene I was working on and I think I might actually like this piece a bit more.

One more thing, this was written in a very short amount of time, a little under 4 hours, so I'm waiting at least a couple days before I try any major revisions.
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Willem



Joined: 09 Jul 2006
Posts: 6306
Location: wasteland style

PostPosted: Mon Nov 08, 2010 9:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Skimming over your post, only one thing caught my eye: "Ellennara Jokahna Illustremius Fordikinnen Ralastriel Allmartanus IV".

I am not reading your story.
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attitude of a street punk, only cutting selected words out of context to get onself excuse to let one's dirty mouth loose
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Darqcyde



Joined: 11 Jul 2006
Posts: 10568
Location: A false vacuum abiding in ignorance.

PostPosted: Tue Nov 09, 2010 3:00 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Willem wrote:
Skimming over your post, only one thing caught my eye: "Ellennara Jokahna Illustremius Fordikinnen Ralastriel Allmartanus IV".

I am not reading your story.


The name is said by a bureaucrat you're supposed to hate. If it's cumbersome, ridiculous and unwieldy then it's doing it's job.
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...if a single leaf holds the eye, it will be as if the remaining leaves were not there.
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