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A televangelist was there,
Who was widely known as the host
Of a quite popular talk show.
Sowing faith was his mission,
And charismatically, he did so.
Chapter 1: ~ Skysplitter ~ said:"Interesting," the large man said. "The Cloud from my universe never used an attack like that."
"The Cloud from... what? You mean there's another version of me somewhere?"
"Yes."
He raised his weapon and pointed it at the spiky-haired man before continuing.
"And, although I believe my universe's Cloud may have more raw strength and speed... you are a far more skilled fighter."
The entire arena began to rattle as Lexaeus began to unleash more and more of his power. A faint aura of reddish-orange flames began to flicker up around him, and loose bricks fell from the sides of the platform, clattering onto the packed-down sand below.
"Be proud, Cloud Strife. You have proven yourself worthy of facing my full strength."
We poked our sticks into the bag at the same time, and wound up picking up the same marshmallow. I suggested we try and roast it while it was on two sticks, and he agreed. I stared at him a bit longer than was necessary. I couldn’t help it, he was good-looking.
A few seconds later we were pulling the marshmallow out of the fire and arguing about who would get to eat it. He asked if maybe we could share it.
“Um… right… I could’ve thought of that…” I muttered grudgingly. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
Basically the concept of my story is a bunch of memories of a captured woman, who is telling them all to herself to keep herself sane. I've got a bunch of ideas for it, too. My excerpt is from the first of those; a memory of a camping trip.We poked our sticks into the bag at the same time, and wound up picking up the same marshmallow. I suggested we try and roast it while it was on two sticks, and he agreed. I stared at him a bit longer than was necessary. I couldn’t help it, he was good-looking.
A few seconds later we were pulling the marshmallow out of the fire and arguing about who would get to eat it. He asked if maybe we could share it.
“Um… right… I could’ve thought of that…” I muttered grudgingly. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
‘So?’ she said, blushing furiously and hurriedly minimising the window. ‘So? I – how long have you been stood there?’
Ethan shrugged, swinging his arms back and forth. “Not very long.” He paused. ‘You don’t have blonde hair.’
Charlotte cringed. ‘It’s not about me.’
‘It’s your name,’ he observed, running a finger up the door frame.
‘Because,’ she started, ‘I - couldn’t think of another one.’
Ethan blinked. ‘I know lots of names.’ He paused again. ‘I like Sarah.’
‘Sarah?’
‘Yup. That’s my teacher’s name.’
‘Mrs Jones?’
‘Sarah,’ he corrected. ‘It’s a good name.’
‘Okay.’ Charlotte said, ‘I’ll keep Sarah in mind.’
‘She’s not blonde either, though.’
‘That’s okay.’
Eh, it's my first NaNoWriMo and I just started this with no idea where it was going to lead. At this point in my writing I'm fairly certain that it will be dream-based and have a sort of an anything-can-happen vibe to it. There's also a completly ludicrouse girl named Palindrome (Pali for short) Who's unpredictable thinking patterns bring up just odd situaions that either turn out funny or just strange. I'm hoping to incorperate her in Beeches dreams somehow, though just how I really don't know..
Bartlbeech (Shut-up >_<), a pretty normal thirteen year old boy, ends up being dragged into the realm of a loonie dream dweller called, for now, a Mantich. The Mantich wants nothing more than to drive Bartlbeech insane, therby ruining his real world life through paranioa and irrational fear, just for the rush and pleasure of doing so. Bartlebeech will be put through a series of ridiculously challenging tests in dream worlds that the Mantich will create and tweak to how he see's fit. If Bartlebeech fails to complete/fails a challenge he will be plauged by a nightmare the Matich promises will affect him forever more. Not just one nightmare either, the Mantich has thousands of nightmares up his sleeve just for this purpose. Beech better watch out and keep his wits about him if he wants to come out of this with his psyche intact.
Beech has already:
Seen porcupines sleeping in his room
Been tackled by a crazed girl with a voice recorder
Eaten a cookie
Watched his friends face expand to the point of tearing
Been hit by a blue Honda going ten miles per hour
Been trapped in a filled cage made of molassass
And has been freaked out by a demonic alien couch
And that's just the first three chapters.
The plot sounds horribly cliched, I know, but this story could go in any direction at the moment. Look for updates, or something. I dunno. I'll work on it.
The snake was known as Panda Bear. He glimmered in shades of orange, reflecting the sunset and the fields below in the dark patterns along his back and down his tail. For four feet he seemed to stretch, his whole body under control of the brain in the small head at the front of the whole elongated vessel. His beady eyes darted around and his tongue flickered in and out, taking a careful, precise taste of the air before quickly retracting it, making sure not to overdose on the potentially dangerous environment around him. With ease he controlled his body across his environment, the tail swishing back and forth, his midsections moving with a mind of their own to propel him across the world he lived in. Everything about him seemed to come together as he collapsed into a slow spiral, his head coming to rest at the center of his universe, supported by layer on layer of himself. This was the most comfortable position.
“My fellows,” he said slowly. “The Koreans have declined our offer of negotiation and condemned our refusal to listen to their command. I have here the files outlining the virility of the disease they have developed.” He pointed towards a faxed file in his left hand. “They have outdone themselves this time, scientifically speaking. 92% communicability. No current vaccine, except in Korea of course. 100% death rate, tried and tested on humans.” The President sighed deeply, and it looked as though he was fighting back an angry outburst.
“It is a desperate situation for the world. General Lebraus of the US Army is already attempting to missile down these flu bombs, but it’s unlikely it will work seeing as how the Koreans can only have got long-range working in the past few weeks. How on God’s earth they did that unnoticed, I don’t know, but they did. This is the end, my fellows. Unless General Lebraus is successful, humanity is all but doomed. We have unleashed Armageddon upon ourselves. I have nothing more to say.”
“Goodnight, gentlemen.”
I'm at 8k~
Remember everyone: no matter how crappy you think your writing is, at least three hundred fanfics somewhere are worse. >_>
“Impact has been confirmed on the Western Seaboard of the United States. We are officially warflu positive.”
Obviously, “warflu” was a term that had been coined during the argument after Attingley had left. Soon after the fiasco had bubbled down, the Prime Minister would be hearing other words for it: words including “superflu”, death air and just “the spore” was being mentioned by an African leader.
A couple of hours later, another call came in to the President. His voice once again reverberated off of the walls of the chamber.
“Three missiles are confirmed as having hit London, Moscow and Harare. The Eurasian continent and Africa have been infected with the warflu.”
And then, another ten minutes later: “We’ve got confirmation of the spore being released in Melbourne. It’s only a matter of time before the other major islands have been contaminated. I’m sorry, my fellows, but the whole world has now had confirmed flu strikes. This appears to be the end.”