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Author Topic: Why cant i write this good anymore?  (Read 3938 times)
Stan
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« on: December 22, 2009, 01:15:33 pm »

This is a flash-fiction from eighth grade.

I am almost blown away by how amazing it is.

( It probably isn't.)

Anyway this was from about a year, maybe a few months back.

It amazes me to this day.

Why oh why cant i write this well anymore?

Sheep in wolves’ clothing.

   Lying in a green field of grass, I feel the sun, gently toasting my olive skin. I feel like a marshmallow being baked on a wooden spit held by some slobbering boy scout over a fire. I try to get up, but vines tie my arms and legs down. I look around this botanical haven, and see nothing but blue sky, blue like my eyes, and rolling hills as green as any. Reminds me of my youth, where I dyed my hair that way in the summer, Back when we all went to the ice cream and malted shops. Nothing mattered then. And when one thing went to another, and money got tight, so I figured, it would take God and jewels could save me now. Then I went into the Pirate business. No god, but man, have I found jewels, then Something happened, and I woke up here, trapped in this blissful cage, in this blissful prison.

   Trapped in this blissful prison, I see sheep grazing in a… cotton field? Huh. I guess you really Are what you eat. But this cotton… looks different. It’s big, and grey, seeming to howl and move without wind.
Are there wolves growing on the stock? With the sheep eating them?
How strange this world I’m in is. How very strange. I can’t see a Sheppard near those sheep, so I’m guessing, they’re free-range. My nose is on fire, It feels so tingly; that numb, cold, burning sensation, which I can no longer endure. Ah… A-ah... AH-KRPBTHT. Yeech, mucus, all over my face, I try to wipe it off my face but the vines continue to tether my arms down. Oh dear the sheep, they must have heard me. They start to lumber, almost limp towards me. Then, as they get a little closer, they start to get a little faster. And faster, and faster until they reach a full gallop, charging towards me, with eyes, glowing the red of a thousand burning embers, like the grotesque, almost stomach-turning mixture of blood, snot, drool, slobber, and phlegm, dripping, almost cascading from their mouths. roaring, at the decibel lever similar to that of a jet plane, sounding very surreal, like the screeching of a radio, or Styrofoam, or when two balloons rub against each other. These aren’t sheep, these are Devils. This must be like Dante’s half-level of hell, you know, before the real hell starts happening, and these sheep must be my portal into hell. The front sheep pounces upon me, and I shut my eyes. I hear a splash. Is that what happens when you die? You hear a splash? How odd. I open my eyes, expecting the gates of hell to await me. “COME ON, HERE I AM!” I was ready for a fight, ready to spit in the devil’s face.But as I see what is truly in front of me, I realize, I’m in the same damn place, the sun must be getting brighter, because everything just got a little lighter. A second sheep pounces on me, but the moment he touches me, he turned into…Water? and splashes all over me. The third sheep, looks like he had blue wool, and when he jumped, everything went blindingly white, I closed my eyes, so I didn’t lose any of my oh-so-useful vision.

   When I opened them up, I saw the gorgeous view of my best friend’s fuzzy, scruffy, dirty, and overall very unkempt face, his green eyes, piercing my crystal blues with his trademark stare, he says to me:

   “Ya took a nasty blow to the head there, boyo, been conked out for a good eight hours, ah, hell, good Ta ‘ave ya back, otherwise,”

   A dream, it was all just a strange, unconscious crazy, comatose dream, so odd, so very odd.


EDIT: Okay, so it wasn't very good, a bit confusing, if you ask me. I tried to make it present-tense, and in some places its past-tense, hurts mah brainoggin.
Huh, guess this thread was useless, seeing as this wasn't very good.
« Last Edit: December 22, 2009, 01:19:53 pm by Stan » Logged


If you're gonna do that shit, do it about one of those ontario elections that always end in the cops chasing a rapist around a tim hortons or some shit.
ensouls
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« Reply #1 on: January 08, 2010, 02:30:46 pm »

I canít see a Sheppard near those sheep, so Iím guessing, theyíre free-range.

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« Reply #2 on: January 08, 2010, 03:27:30 pm »

Yeah? You're going to make that joke now? After this sat for how long?
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At least, that's what I think.
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« Reply #3 on: January 08, 2010, 03:28:35 pm »

A) I'm that bored, and
B) two weeks.
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« Reply #4 on: January 08, 2010, 03:33:26 pm »

That was Rhetorical, Little Miss Sassypants.
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ensouls
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« Reply #5 on: January 08, 2010, 03:38:26 pm »

IT MATTERS NOT. >c
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« Reply #6 on: January 08, 2010, 03:39:01 pm »

*Sprays Ensouls with a hose*
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« Reply #7 on: January 08, 2010, 03:57:50 pm »

I didn't even read it until earlier today, so...
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« Reply #8 on: January 08, 2010, 04:02:50 pm »

*Sprays Ralion with a hose for good measure.*
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ensouls
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« Reply #9 on: January 08, 2010, 04:08:50 pm »

*drips*
Why can't you just let me have my fun, Log? ;_;
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Stan
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« Reply #10 on: January 09, 2010, 12:57:16 am »

WHY?

ENSOULS, WHY?

WHY DIDNT YOU JUST LOCK IT?

I resolved the issue this thread was supposed to bring up.
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If you're gonna do that shit, do it about one of those ontario elections that always end in the cops chasing a rapist around a tim hortons or some shit.
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« Reply #11 on: January 09, 2010, 11:56:21 pm »

*victory song fizzles out*
Oh, fine. *grumble*
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