[Writing]My Literature Stuff

[ThePortalGuru]

So yeah this is basically where I'm posting my stuff like it good okay let's start this off.

Junk Mail

Jared Tennon worked full-time as a banker. His life was—on the whole—quite a boring one. Off to work at 6 A.M., back from work at 9 P.M., dinner at 9:30, watch T.V. at 10, check inbox/empty spam folder at 10:30, go to bed at 11, repeat. The only thing that happened yo Jared that was particularly out of the ordinary began on Friday, 2 weeks before his 5th anniversary of him and his wife Claire's wedding. Through the process of looking through and emptying his spam folder that night, he came across a rather odd piece of mail:
-------------
To: Jared Tennon<[email protected]>
From: Cf01*9<:(@16859.23>
Subject: :(
-------------
Attached was a picture of the corner of a dark grey room that looked somewhat similar to his. Jared moused over the picture to find a link to a site with the address "getweddinggearfree.com". He went to delete the e-mail, seeing as it was probably just some cryptic marketing technique or virus link. Upon clicking the "confirm delete" button, the computer screen went completely blank. Startled, Jared bent down and turned the computer on and off. Instead of being greeted with the usual Intel logo at start-up, the following symbol was displayed.

:(

Jared frantically clicked and pressed keys to try and get the frown off of the otherwise black screen, but the eerie colon-parenthesis combination wouldn't move. Finally, a small bit of incomprehensible text was flawshed on the screen, and the window with Jared's e-mail was restored. Jared was greatly confused. He tried to exit the godforsaken spam folder to get to his inbox, but the browser just put up a white page with the message "404 NOT FOUND" in large bolded lettering. The same message was displayed for every other web page he tried to visit. His spam folder was the only web page that was displayed properly. Jared decided to give his computer a day to cool off.

The next day, he went to his computer-savvy friends for advice. They were left completely stumped after he finished explaining the problem. They'd never heard of a virus like the one Jared had experienced. "The only thing I can suggest is to either use your laptop or get a new computer altogether," said one of them.

That night, Jared avoided using his desktop computer. He sat down on the couch in his living room, opened his laptop, and turned it on. His eyes went wide. There, in the center of the screen, was this:

:)

Jared slammed the laptop shut, got up from the couch, and began walking quickly over to his bedroom. He hadn't gotten more than 3 feet out of the living room when he was stopped cold by a familiar sound. "You've got mail!" the computer in the study rang out. The desktop computer in the study. The very same desktop computer that Jared was certain he had left off since the previous night. He walked in and looked at the screen.
-------------
To: Jared Tennon<[email protected]>
From: HcK2!y<:)@13749.13>
Subject: :)

:)
P.S. Please don't use any other. And please check your mail.
-------------
Jared's heart was racing. He turned off the monitor and walked to his room on shaking, unsteady legs. It took 4 sleeping pills before he finally closed his eyes.

For the next 12 days, his computer had the same problems. He told everyone at work to hold back on sending anything to him until they were fixed. The content of the messages Jared received while he wasn't using his computer were as follows:

Sunday: :(
Monday: :)
Tuesday: :(
Wednesday: :)
Thursday: :(
Friday: :)
Saturday: :(
Sunday: :)
Monday: :(
Tuesday: :)
Wednesday: :(
Thursday: :)

On Thursday night, he called in a computer engineer to have his desktop PC examined. The engineer pressed the power button, and the computer booted up normally. It passed every performance test it was supposed to, and all programs were running smoothly. "Do me a favor, Mr. Tennon," said the engineer, "call me again when you have any real problems." He packed up his equipment and walked out. Jared could see his van driving away through the window in his study. He went to bed puzzled, again neglecting his e-mail and leaving his computer well alone.

The Friday of his wedding anniversary, Jared took the day off from work to make sure everything was in order for a romantic night between Claire and him. At 7:00 P.M., the presents had been purchased and the dinner had been fully prepared. After dinnertime, Claire gave Jared his present: a brand new, top-quality Rolex. Jared got up from the table and told Claire to wait where she was. "Close your eyes, I want to make it a surprise," said Jared as he walked over to get her gift. 5 minutes passed, and he still hadn't returned. Claire was beginning to worry. She walked over to the study door, knowing that he kept most of her gifts in there, and opened the door. There was a loud thump as Claire fainted onto the hardwood study floor.

Sitting decapitated in the corner of the room was Jared, body propped up against one of the walls fully clothed. All over the walls, and puddled on the ground beneath him were dark splotches of blood. On the computer to the left of him, a message was displayed with a picture of the corner of the same dark grey room as the first e-mail, with a ":(" flashing every 4 seconds in the corner of the image.

Carved on the wall next to Jared's body was a vertical list of the senders of each e-mail he had received:

C vh04
H 6my8
E hl2s3
C FY8i
K cRu6
Y tuS3
O q2yU
U TE9w
R j9cU
C 7haT
O qAk6
R geS4
N K2wr
E cRA6
R 8UtA
. seT6

[Maxpphire]

Not bad but didn't make me feel the horror so in that turn it was a bit rushed and needs more time with Jared so we can connect to him better.

[ThePortalGuru]

Not bad but didn't make me feel the horror so in that turn it was a bit rushed and needs more time with Jared so we can connect to him better.

I know. Didn't really make this one long enough. I can understand that.

---

Slender Man Goes to Work

RING! RING! RING! The alarm clock rang violently in the corner of Slender Man's room. "Time for work, honey!" yelled his wife, "I swear to Slender God, if you're late again..." Slender Man extended his arm to shut off the aggravating piece of technology blaring loudly on his nightstand. Unfortunately, it was his sharpened fourth arm. Now he was stuck with a broken alarm clock on his hand and a yelling wife in the kitchen. "Oh golly, not again!" he said. Yanking the confounded object off his branch, Slender Man rushed over to the closet and quickly threw on his suit, tie, and dress pants. Looking down at the time on his watch, he exclaimed "Drat! At this rate, I'll never be on time!" His fast walk turned into a brisk jog as he rushed through the kitchen. "Be home early!" his wife said as Slender Man snatched a piece of toast from the counter and absorbed its nutrients through the pores on his faceless head.

Briefcase in hand, he sped across his normal work route. Thank goodness I only live a couple blocks away, he thought to himself. Slender Man checked his watch again. "7:25! Gadzooks, there's no way I can make it in 5 minutes!" Luckily, he was just walking by the local park area. "Of course, I can just cut through the park!" He ran as fast as his stalks could carry him, but was stopped short at the tree behind the park's playground.

"Eh! Slendy! That you?" came a voice from across the grass field. Slender Man was pleasantly surprised to see Alex Kralie, a good friend of his, waving at him. He turned around to wave, but was interrupted by what he perceived to be the flash of a camera. somewhat confused as to the source of this unexpected paparazzi, he examined the perimeter to see if he was being watched, but found no one. Slender Man could afford to waste no more time; he had a meeting to get to!

"2 minutes! Son of a gun!" he exclaimed as he continued his mad dash to work. Something was off, though. His multisensory facial nerves detected... smoke?! It's coming from the library! he thought. The local library had been a large part of his childhood memories; he couldn't just let it smolder! By the time he got there, all that was left were the now-charcoal foundations, piles upon piles of charred books, and destroyed childhood memories. "Curses! What foul power could have caused such a horrific incident?" he screamed. He walked to the left of the burnt building to see how much damage had been inflicted that wasn't apparent from afar. Right as he stopped to turn to the library, he saw another flash blind him momentarily. This must be the fellow from the park. thought Slenderman, Why did he follow me all the way here? He shrugged it off, realizing it was probably just a strange coincidence. Looking down at his watch, he said, "Great googly! I'm late! Well, I'm only a minute away by foot, so I should darn well take my time."

One minute later, he arrived at work. "20 minutes late! This must be a new record for ya, buddy," said Slender Man's coworker and friend, Johnny "Totheark" Presny. "Sorry I couldn't make it earlier," said Slender Man, "I've been having a rough morning. And if I'm not mistaken, someone has been taking pictures of me."

"Slendy, you're overreacting. So, what's the worst that can happen, someone uploads them to the internet?" Both Slender Man and Totheark burst into laughter, and they walked off to the meeting room together.

[JackMan]

Scared me.
Like that kind of scared when you think some shit's gonna happen behind you, scared.

I like it. Please continue, good sir.

[ThePortalGuru]

Work in progress - I realize the beginning's a little bit rocky, so bear with me.
=================
I approached the coach quickly. The horses reared at the sight of my hooded figure. The rain poured heavily down on my black cloak. As I stepped in, a strange sense of foreboding became prominent within me. The man inside greeted me with a cold smile. I waved coldly back. He too bore a hooded cloak. His hood obscured his features, making him difficult to identify. "Mr. Tensal, glad you could make it. I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up," said the hooded man. "Well, here I am," I replied. "There you sit." The driver started the horses. With a lurch, the coach moved steadily forward. "Have you ever been to Chrevlmoore?" the hooded man asked. "This would be my first time," I said. "Might I make a suggestion?" he said, "Keep your distinctions between reality and the macabre very clear." I looked quizzically at the man. "For now, though, I wouldn't pay that much mind."

Time seemed to slow down as the castle grew in the horizon. The sky appeared to darker than it was when we first set out. I fell asleep, hoping it would make the remaining trip go by faster.

"Get up," the hooded man said with conviction. I rubbed my eyes and turned my head to face the coach window. It was still pitch black outside. The hooded man was the first to step out. I followed after him, boots sloshing in the mud below. He gestured for me to come near. I obliged. "Julius," he said, "quickly, go back to the coach and fetch my lantern. There are things that I need to discuss with you on out walk over." I went fast as I could, grabbed the lantern from beneath the man's seat, and ran back over. the hooded man pulled a match out from one of the folds in his cloak, and in one swift motion struck it and dropped it into the glass compartment. Under the dim glow of the lantern, he set off down the damp dirt road. I followed close behind.

The distance to the castle looked to be roughly a couple leagues. "We couldn't have taken the coach all the way there?" I asked, "The path looks smooth enough." The hooded man came to a stop. He extended his arm and pointed to the north. The wet cobblestone of a massive stone bridge glistened in the moonlight. "Too narrow to cross by coach. This leg of the trip must be done on foot." And with that, he began walking again. And again, I followed. "What brought you here, Julius? What compelled you to come to Chrevlmoore?" asked the hooded man. "My father," I began to explain, "was a pioneer in every respect. He moved the field of anatomy further than anyone else with his research. Chrevlmoore was like his home away from home. He spent most of his years living in that place. I only ever saw him when I was in primary school; he walked out the door without even a goodbye to Mother. I was under her care for most of my life. I suppose the father I once knew has been long dead, and whatever research he left in that castle will help me find out everything else about him."
==================
I wrote a little more, but I've decided not to post it yet. Some C+C would be nice.

[ThePortalGuru]

It is legend finished (Chapter 1, that is)
===
I approached the coach quickly. The horses reared at the sight of my hooded figure. Rain poured heavily down on my black cloak. As I stepped in, a strange sense of foreboding became prominent within me. The man inside greeted me with a cold smile. I waved coldly back. He too bore a hooded cloak. His hood obscured his features, making him difficult to identify. "Mr. Tensal, glad you could make it. I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up," said the hooded man. "Well, here I am," I replied. "There you sit." The driver started the horses. With a lurch, the coach moved steadily forward. "Have you ever been to Chrevlmoore?" the hooded man asked. "This would be my first time," I said. "Might I make a suggestion?" he said, "Keep your distinctions between reality and the macabre very clear." I looked quizzically at the man. "For now, though, I wouldn't pay that much mind."

Time seemed to slow down as the castle grew in the horizon. The sky appeared to darker than it was when we first set out. I fell asleep, hoping it would make the remaining trip go by faster.

"Get up," the hooded man said with conviction. I rubbed my eyes and turned my head to face the coach window. It was still pitch black outside. The hooded man was the first to step out. I followed after him, boots sloshing in the mud below. He gestured for me to come near. I obliged. "Julius," he said, "quickly, go back to the coach and fetch my lantern. There are things that I need to discuss with you on our walk over." I went fast as I could, grabbed the lantern from beneath the man's seat, and ran back over. The hooded man pulled a match out from one of the folds in his cloak, and in one swift motion struck it and dropped it into the glass compartment. Under the dim glow of the lantern, he set off down the damp dirt road. I followed close behind.

The distance to the castle looked to be roughly a couple leagues. "We couldn't have taken the coach all the way there?" I asked, "The path looks smooth enough." The hooded man came to a stop. He extended his arm and pointed to the north. The wet cobblestone of a massive stone bridge glistened in the moonlight. "Too narrow to cross by coach. This leg of the trip must be done on foot." And with that, he began walking again. And again, I followed. "What brought you here, Julius? What compelled you to come to Chrevlmoore?" asked the hooded man. "My father," I began to explain, "was a pioneer in every respect. He moved the field of anatomy further than anyone else with his research. Chrevlmoore was like his home away from home. He spent most of his years living in that place. I only ever saw him when I was in primary school; he walked out the door without even a goodbye to Mother. I was under her care for most of my life. I suppose the father I once knew has been long dead, and whatever research he left in that castle will help me find out everything else about him."

“Ahhh,” said the hooded man, “so this isn’t just a simple scientific expedition, eh? No, this is a son’s journey to find his heritage.” “You could phrase it like that.” In our chatter, we had lost track of time. We hard arrived at the foot of the bridge. The sky cracked open, and thunder pounded at the valley. Rain began to pour down. “We should stop here,” said the hooded man, “we’ll set up camp for the night and start off for Chrevlmoore in the morning.” He took his pitching equipment off his back and began pitching our tent.

Once inside, the stranger removed his hood revealing the face of a firmly built old man. He had the appearance of a clean, well-kempt man, but his finer features suggested that he was an avid outdoorsman. What stood out in particular were his eyes. The left was a bright green, and the right blood red. “I don’t believe I’ve formally introduced myself. Robert. Robert Waters.” He extended his hand to shake mine. “Jul-“ I began to say. “I’m already familiar with your name, Mr. Julius Tensal,” Robert interrupted. “A pleasure,” I said, and I grasped his hand and shook it.

The lightning and thunder kept us up through the night. Neither of us could get to sleep with the ruckus around us. “I knew Arthur – your father – quite well. We worked together in that castle for years. He was brilliant, no doubt, but as with any man, he had his flaws. And his biggest…” Robert paused for a moment before continuing, “…was his ambition.”

I stared up at the roof of the tent for the next couple of minutes, thinking about what he had just said. “Mr. Waters, what do you mean, ‘ambition’?” I tried to say, but he was already fast asleep.

[ThePortalGuru]

Been a while, hasn't it? Here's a little bit I wrote a couple months ago:

Horsemen

SMACK. You know, it’s kind of funny. SMACK. Funny in a sick sort of way. SMACK. Would “funny” be a good word to describe it? SMACK. Nah. SMACK. Ironic, perhaps? SMACK. Yeah, ironic sums it up well. SMACK.

The sad, disfigured thing before me no longer resembles the man it once was. SMACK. The biting air is beginning to work its way under his skin. His face has become so grey and frost-rimed that I start to feel like I’m beating a corpse. SMACK. For all I know, I could be. I've stopped caring. SMACK.

“Marsh, please-” the man begs. He cuts himself off and hacks out a glob of blood and mucus onto the stone floor, and when he raises his head again - SMACK.

A part of me is slipping away with each blow. SMACK. My sympathy. SMACK. My morality. SMACK. My mind. After the twentieth punch, I decide I’ve lost enough of myself. Twenty seems like a good place to stop. Nice even number.

A muddled white light streams into the tower through the colossal pane that makes up the clock behind me. It gives a heavenly aura to the room. The man begins to resemble something of a grotesque angel, bloodied face shimmering in gnarled grace.

He breathes heavily, in broken huffs. With each breath, a cloud of crystallized decay comes billowing out.

I look down at my hands. I turn them over and look at the ruby splotches covering my knuckles. The heat of passion must be tapering; my hands are shivering. After so many years, one would imagine that those responsible for running the place would have installed proper heating.

“Is that all?” the man croaks.

I walk to the stool beside the man and pick up a sheet of cream-colored linen.

“Come on, Marsh. That was weak. On a good day, you could’ve gone for at least twenty-five.”

The cloth is just as frigid as my skin.

“Marsh, the whole silence card you’re playing isn’t working. I know you’re listening, Marsh. Maaaaarsh!” he dons a mix of a smile and a grimace, putting his remaining teeth on display.

That name. That nagging, malignant little sound that makes my blood boil. Marsh. There’s a dull, corrosive burn in the back of my head that grows each time I hear it. Marsh. Marsh, Marsh, Marsh.

“You doing anything for Christmas, Marsh?”

I place the cloth back on the stool. I walk towards the colossal cogs that turn the hands of time, rubbing my clammy hands together.

“Spending it with family? Ey Marsh?”

“Don’t say that fucking word to me again,” I say.

“Which one?”

I turn and see that sickening smile looking back at me. The man turns his head and spits more blood onto the floor. Before I can even think to stop myself, I'm crossing to him.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific, Marsh. How the fuck am I supposed to know what you’re-” SMACK. Twenty-one. SMACK. Twenty-two. SMACK. Twenty-three. SMACK. Twenty-four.