I have been working on a few novels and story ideas for a while. One in particular is killing me because it seems dumb when I read it, yet I'm so excited to write, I'm thinking, and dreaming about it all the time. Stupid huh? I got to thinking. (which is always bad) What if us stangneters collaborate on a story. My favorite genre is Sci-Fi though. What do you think? Am I just dumb and should go sit in a corner with a cabbage patch doll?
didnt someone post a chapter of a book they were writing here a long time ago? i remember it being ridiculously long.
Yeah, I remember that story.....think they got bant. And I know this sounds totally stupid.....but a couple years before Matrix came out.....I have saved and documented notes on my computer from some brainstorming I did about a story I wanted to write about people basically living in virtual reality and being plugged into computers because the world had met a nuclear end and people found a way to survive. My story was a bit different because I started it with people noticing the difference between carbon dating of fossils and what science they learned told them....thus they started to figure out there were many differences between real world and the world they were taught...and the whole premise was leading up to these people were not living in reality but their brains were living in a virtual world. Yeah a bit different...but when I first saw the trailers for Matrix I was in awe. Apparently I'm not the only twisted one huh. I've even shown my wife my saved Word notes from 2 years before...and she thinks I'm nuts.
That's like Stargate for me. I thought up a story where the Egyptian gods returned to Earth, but they came in a huge ship to reconnect the Earth with the rest of civilization. Then there was another where a research team finds a portion of a giant gate on one of the moons of Mars. Anyway, would y'all want to just work on something random? Say like this... Kendra could hardly breath. Her tounge felt so swollen and the sun was excruciating. It had already burned her so bad her skin was blistering. She huddled as much of her body under the stubby strange orange bushes she'd stumbled upon what felt like days before. The scorching nuclear furnace slowly burned its way across the sky bleaching out all the color Kendra expected to see. Her 15 dollar digital watch stopped working after the eighth hour in the heat. Without the 5 year old device she was hopelessly disconnected from the fourth dimension. Time, the great equalizer, wasn't making things any better for Kendra. Her mind kept dwelling on recent events and she kept wishing she were just stuck in an ultra realistic game of scribble knots. Then she could just type time machine into the console and go back before her father's blood was all over and save him.
Okay I'll just ramble off the first things that come to mind in the next 15 minutes before I go home from work... The dawn finally broke in Murphy's Hollow. Weeks of fog and mist left the village more damp then quaint. The autumn leaves that fell were nothing more than soggy flakes left to sink in a bowl of soured milk. What was for weeks a cold blank canvas had now morphed into a rustic painting. The shadows from the hickory trees showed stark contrast against the lifeless valley. Every shade of grey had turned to brown, and every shade of misery had turned to brilliance. An indian summer is always a welcomed break this time of year. Turner will be making repairs today. The old house is a testament to Turner Senior. It has weathered the rains for 40 years. Turner has weathered 11 months without his father. Little Jacob doesn't understand. I haven't seen their mother in days. I only hear the weeping. I guess the cold makes the pain more sharp. I know the howling coyotes don't like it. The spirits don't seem to mind. They like to make everyone as miserable as they appear to be, when they appear. Turner sees them. I see what they've done to Turner and his family. I trust Turner because of his gift.
Twenty years is a long life lived in this place. Every pine cone that falls makes me jump. Everytime the wind howls a chill runs down my spine. It always begins just like that. A crack in the branches here, a pine cone dropping there. And just before they come through you can hear them. Like a broken damn giving way to rushing water. They move with the wind. They crash against the trees. They see through the smallest cracks. Father said not to go out past sundown anymore. Not since Turner Senior was whisked away in front of Turner and Jacob. I wonder sometimes what Jacob is thinking.
Something I dreamed up one night and have been working on for years. Its not for everyone. Only a small bit of it.
Like in a pronz? (There are only 3-5 words at a time) Like in a pronz? (they give it away in the title)
