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My name is Tio-us. I’m a completely normal kid. Or so I thought. I sort of got mixed up with things. Bad things. Basically, I wrote this book, as a sort of biography of the year 1358 in my eyes. Right, first I live on a planet which has inhabitants who are identical, biologically, to humans. They, we, are called tratyas. We have no knowledge of other planets, except out own- Firtif-eye. Some little things are different. For example, my favourite sport -trif-is seen like football or rugby, but played like a mixture of skateboarding and snowboarding. There’s a big empty pool in the middle of a stadium, and players- 2-8, do they’re tricks on the pool within a certain time limit. Not only am I the best in the school at this, but I live near the biggest stadium in my country, and get tickets quite easily. By now you’ll have realised I’m a bit of a show-off . But that’s just me. Onto the story. Well, it didn’t really ‘all begin’. It just ‘happened’. It all really happened or began or whatever when me and my friends began one of our useless and pointless conversations. These would take place in a fast-food restaurant whilst eating. These usually included really stupid questions including, ‘If you had a chance to be renamed, what would your new name be?’ etc. This specific one I wish I could prove to all of you.
“Guys, can you ever get black light?” said Gers, the usual starter of the random conversations.
“No. Light is the deflectant of black, or something,” said Yifop, who talks nonsense on his first say, then just agrees with someone the rest of the convo.
“Deflectant?!? Black is the absence of light, therefore it cannot exist,” said Efter, a smart new kid, who had grown very quickly into liking the conversations.
Me, Gers and Hirt laughed at Efter’s intelligence.
“Look, if you can have blue and purple or whatever, why can’t you have black light?”
“I suppose you could have a very, very, very dark blue…”
Then it came to me. An image in my mind. Black light. Why not? It seemed like a very reasonable question, even if it was a very dark blue. The image saw a room, with four small lamps, and a large light in the middle. The large light was creating darkness as it would be light. Then I realised someone was waving a hand in front of my face.
That night, I hade a dream. The same room was there, but the whole room had been inverted. In other words, the small lamps were creating darkness, whilst the large lamp made light. All that could be seen was not seen before, except maybe the large lamp, and all that couldn’t be seen before was, well, nothing. I looked down where the light would shine, and there was a sky.
The next evening another conversation came into place.
“Guys, how come a crack in air can’t break like with glass?”
“Air cracks due do environmental changes, whereas glass cracks are created by force”
“Environmental changes?”
“Oh god… it’s stuff like certain temperatures of winds coming in at certain angles at certain times of the day in certain times of the year in certain places of the planet…”
“Ok, so what’s on the other side of an air crack?”
“An inside dent, making whatever’s behind it blurry”
“What happens if these certain things happened directly aimed at a ripple or a Melt?”
“Nothing, there’s nothing connecting the elementary muzz-happenings except the name.”
“But why aren’t they just classed as normal disasters like tornado’s and stuff”
“Don’t know, ask your science teacher..”
That basically sums up my story. It’s about cracks in the air, muzz-happenings , black light, and the whole connection between them. Melts are simply a point in the air where the air slides down other air, creating what looks like a wax melt of air. There are only three muzz-happenings. Finally, if someone touches an air crack, whatever they touch it with turns into non-existence.
It was a little strange the next day, as no-one turned up to the random conversation, except me, of course. I walked home, which I hadn’t done for a while. Two policemen came up to me half-way though the journey.
“Let’s see some ID, pal,” said one
Surprised, and putting on a confused I face, I gave the policeman my ID. He looked from me to the ID card. He nodded to the other one.
“Tio-us Savac, you are under arrest for stealing numerous ID and the murder of Grti Defji.
Wam_man copyright
“Guys, can you ever get black light?” said Gers, the usual starter of the random conversations.
“No. Light is the deflectant of black, or something,” said Yifop, who talks nonsense on his first say, then just agrees with someone the rest of the convo.
“Deflectant?!? Black is the absence of light, therefore it cannot exist,” said Efter, a smart new kid, who had grown very quickly into liking the conversations.
Me, Gers and Hirt laughed at Efter’s intelligence.
“Look, if you can have blue and purple or whatever, why can’t you have black light?”
“I suppose you could have a very, very, very dark blue…”
Then it came to me. An image in my mind. Black light. Why not? It seemed like a very reasonable question, even if it was a very dark blue. The image saw a room, with four small lamps, and a large light in the middle. The large light was creating darkness as it would be light. Then I realised someone was waving a hand in front of my face.
That night, I hade a dream. The same room was there, but the whole room had been inverted. In other words, the small lamps were creating darkness, whilst the large lamp made light. All that could be seen was not seen before, except maybe the large lamp, and all that couldn’t be seen before was, well, nothing. I looked down where the light would shine, and there was a sky.
The next evening another conversation came into place.
“Guys, how come a crack in air can’t break like with glass?”
“Air cracks due do environmental changes, whereas glass cracks are created by force”
“Environmental changes?”
“Oh god… it’s stuff like certain temperatures of winds coming in at certain angles at certain times of the day in certain times of the year in certain places of the planet…”
“Ok, so what’s on the other side of an air crack?”
“An inside dent, making whatever’s behind it blurry”
“What happens if these certain things happened directly aimed at a ripple or a Melt?”
“Nothing, there’s nothing connecting the elementary muzz-happenings except the name.”
“But why aren’t they just classed as normal disasters like tornado’s and stuff”
“Don’t know, ask your science teacher..”
That basically sums up my story. It’s about cracks in the air, muzz-happenings , black light, and the whole connection between them. Melts are simply a point in the air where the air slides down other air, creating what looks like a wax melt of air. There are only three muzz-happenings. Finally, if someone touches an air crack, whatever they touch it with turns into non-existence.
It was a little strange the next day, as no-one turned up to the random conversation, except me, of course. I walked home, which I hadn’t done for a while. Two policemen came up to me half-way though the journey.
“Let’s see some ID, pal,” said one
Surprised, and putting on a confused I face, I gave the policeman my ID. He looked from me to the ID card. He nodded to the other one.
“Tio-us Savac, you are under arrest for stealing numerous ID and the murder of Grti Defji.
Wam_man copyright
Page:
Me?
If so, I've written over 30,000 words and yes, that wasn't so great but I did start about a year-year and a half ago and my writings changed a lot since then.
Or him?
If so, yeah.
If so, I've written over 30,000 words and yes, that wasn't so great but I did start about a year-year and a half ago and my writings changed a lot since then.
Or him?
If so, yeah.
If that's the first page.....
You do know a book is usually well over 30,000 words?
Anyway, it kinda wasn't that great...
You do know a book is usually well over 30,000 words?
Anyway, it kinda wasn't that great...
Well, whilst we're at it:
She stepped out from Megondoth’s Headquarters Building into the cold, depressing city. The heavy security door banged closed behind her and it’s noise echoed dully around the concrete yard and played between the cheap, high-rise housing.
There was no-one around but herself, and she liked that. The people in this city, her city, were useless. They did nothing to aid the progression and reworking of the place, technological or otherwise. How could Megondoth possibly rebuild itself with beggars, slummers and tax-dodgers crawling all over the place?
At least she was doing something about it, using the city scum for something useful rather than taking up valuable living space. Her work was vital, but hardly anyone else even knew about it and those that did were anything but friends. Her master had given her his word that if she told on single person she would have to be disposed of, and, as she had discovered after finding one of her colleges truly disposed of, the only one she could have ever called friend, he always kept his word.
The heartless, chilling wind bit the back of her neck and stabbed at her bare legs as she walked briskly northwards towards her home. Her ridiculously expensive and predictably uncomfortable shoes rubbed the back of her ankles and clattered with each step. She pulled her overcoat collar up around her neck and stuck her hands deep into the pockets where some loose change jangled noisily among some other forgotten rubbish.
She passed a beggar on the next street and shivered inwardly. Beggars were the worst type of vermin. They just sat on the filthy streets and expected decent, hardworking people much like herself to give them their hard-earned money, and that was one thing she would definitely never do. This beggar was a potent wreck of an old man with a grimy wine bottle clasped protectively in one hand, he looked up eagerly as she walked past and heard the money in her pocket but she shot him down with a cold, hard stare that could easily be summoned forward and hurried off around the corner.
It was much the same story on the next few streets, where grubby, beaten women stood with bagged eyes and smudged makeup showing off their unwanted children for sympathy and old men sat, with matted beards and hair, next their starving dogs, whistling quietly to themselves, holding out wet bits of cardboard with useless information about how badly off they are scrawled on them. Every beggar like a vulture, homing in on the sound of money and staring jealously at her obvious wealth.
She was now coming to the outskirts of the slums that lay at the heart of the city and was almost into the classy, upmarket area in the north, where people slept safely in their beds and low-rank, burly Wardens stopped any suspicious people entering the area. She, of course, lived in these parts and owned one of the larger houses in a quiet neighbourhood where everyone kept themselves to themselves, that was exactly how she liked it.
**
Damn, I wrote that about a year ago.
Meh.
She stepped out from Megondoth’s Headquarters Building into the cold, depressing city. The heavy security door banged closed behind her and it’s noise echoed dully around the concrete yard and played between the cheap, high-rise housing.
There was no-one around but herself, and she liked that. The people in this city, her city, were useless. They did nothing to aid the progression and reworking of the place, technological or otherwise. How could Megondoth possibly rebuild itself with beggars, slummers and tax-dodgers crawling all over the place?
At least she was doing something about it, using the city scum for something useful rather than taking up valuable living space. Her work was vital, but hardly anyone else even knew about it and those that did were anything but friends. Her master had given her his word that if she told on single person she would have to be disposed of, and, as she had discovered after finding one of her colleges truly disposed of, the only one she could have ever called friend, he always kept his word.
The heartless, chilling wind bit the back of her neck and stabbed at her bare legs as she walked briskly northwards towards her home. Her ridiculously expensive and predictably uncomfortable shoes rubbed the back of her ankles and clattered with each step. She pulled her overcoat collar up around her neck and stuck her hands deep into the pockets where some loose change jangled noisily among some other forgotten rubbish.
She passed a beggar on the next street and shivered inwardly. Beggars were the worst type of vermin. They just sat on the filthy streets and expected decent, hardworking people much like herself to give them their hard-earned money, and that was one thing she would definitely never do. This beggar was a potent wreck of an old man with a grimy wine bottle clasped protectively in one hand, he looked up eagerly as she walked past and heard the money in her pocket but she shot him down with a cold, hard stare that could easily be summoned forward and hurried off around the corner.
It was much the same story on the next few streets, where grubby, beaten women stood with bagged eyes and smudged makeup showing off their unwanted children for sympathy and old men sat, with matted beards and hair, next their starving dogs, whistling quietly to themselves, holding out wet bits of cardboard with useless information about how badly off they are scrawled on them. Every beggar like a vulture, homing in on the sound of money and staring jealously at her obvious wealth.
She was now coming to the outskirts of the slums that lay at the heart of the city and was almost into the classy, upmarket area in the north, where people slept safely in their beds and low-rank, burly Wardens stopped any suspicious people entering the area. She, of course, lived in these parts and owned one of the larger houses in a quiet neighbourhood where everyone kept themselves to themselves, that was exactly how she liked it.
**
Damn, I wrote that about a year ago.
Meh.
Memorandum wrote:
>
What, trying to say something, but to amazed by my skill?
>
What, trying to say something, but to amazed by my skill?
That was cool wam-man but I think I need to read more pages to like it more though.
Cool anyway:-D
Cool anyway:-D
froots wrote:
> That was a bad first page of a book.
Dam-what's wrong with it?
> That was a bad first page of a book.
Dam-what's wrong with it?
Note. I didnt read it, but I now will.
That was a bad first page of a book.
My name is Tio-us. I’m a completely normal kid. Or so I thought. I sort of got mixed up with things. Bad things. Basically, I wrote this book, as a sort of biography of the year 1358 in my eyes. Right, first I live on a planet which has inhabitants who are identical, biologically, to humans. They, we, are called tratyas. We have no knowledge of other planets, except out own- Firtif-eye. Some little things are different. For example, my favourite sport -trif-is seen like football or rugby, but played like a mixture of skateboarding and snowboarding. There’s a big empty pool in the middle of a stadium, and players- 2-8, do they’re tricks on the pool within a certain time limit. Not only am I the best in the school at this, but I live near the biggest stadium in my country, and get tickets quite easily. By now you’ll have realised I’m a bit of a show-off . But that’s just me. Onto the story. Well, it didn’t really ‘all begin’. It just ‘happened’. It all really happened or began or whatever when me and my friends began one of our useless and pointless conversations. These would take place in a fast-food restaurant whilst eating. These usually included really stupid questions including, ‘If you had a chance to be renamed, what would your new name be?’ etc. This specific one I wish I could prove to all of you.
“Guys, can you ever get black light?” said Gers, the usual starter of the random conversations.
“No. Light is the deflectant of black, or something,” said Yifop, who talks nonsense on his first say, then just agrees with someone the rest of the convo.
“Deflectant?!? Black is the absence of light, therefore it cannot exist,” said Efter, a smart new kid, who had grown very quickly into liking the conversations.
Me, Gers and Hirt laughed at Efter’s intelligence.
“Look, if you can have blue and purple or whatever, why can’t you have black light?”
“I suppose you could have a very, very, very dark blue…”
Then it came to me. An image in my mind. Black light. Why not? It seemed like a very reasonable question, even if it was a very dark blue. The image saw a room, with four small lamps, and a large light in the middle. The large light was creating darkness as it would be light. Then I realised someone was waving a hand in front of my face.
That night, I hade a dream. The same room was there, but the whole room had been inverted. In other words, the small lamps were creating darkness, whilst the large lamp made light. All that could be seen was not seen before, except maybe the large lamp, and all that couldn’t be seen before was, well, nothing. I looked down where the light would shine, and there was a sky.
The next evening another conversation came into place.
“Guys, how come a crack in air can’t break like with glass?”
“Air cracks due do environmental changes, whereas glass cracks are created by force”
“Environmental changes?”
“Oh god… it’s stuff like certain temperatures of winds coming in at certain angles at certain times of the day in certain times of the year in certain places of the planet…”
“Ok, so what’s on the other side of an air crack?”
“An inside dent, making whatever’s behind it blurry”
“What happens if these certain things happened directly aimed at a ripple or a Melt?”
“Nothing, there’s nothing connecting the elementary muzz-happenings except the name.”
“But why aren’t they just classed as normal disasters like tornado’s and stuff”
“Don’t know, ask your science teacher..”
That basically sums up my story. It’s about cracks in the air, muzz-happenings , black light, and the whole connection between them. Melts are simply a point in the air where the air slides down other air, creating what looks like a wax melt of air. There are only three muzz-happenings. Finally, if someone touches an air crack, whatever they touch it with turns into non-existence.
It was a little strange the next day, as no-one turned up to the random conversation, except me, of course. I walked home, which I hadn’t done for a while. Two policemen came up to me half-way though the journey.
“Let’s see some ID, pal,” said one
Surprised, and putting on a confused I face, I gave the policeman my ID. He looked from me to the ID card. He nodded to the other one.
“Tio-us Savac, you are under arrest for stealing numerous ID and the murder of Grti Defji.
Wam_man copyright
“Guys, can you ever get black light?” said Gers, the usual starter of the random conversations.
“No. Light is the deflectant of black, or something,” said Yifop, who talks nonsense on his first say, then just agrees with someone the rest of the convo.
“Deflectant?!? Black is the absence of light, therefore it cannot exist,” said Efter, a smart new kid, who had grown very quickly into liking the conversations.
Me, Gers and Hirt laughed at Efter’s intelligence.
“Look, if you can have blue and purple or whatever, why can’t you have black light?”
“I suppose you could have a very, very, very dark blue…”
Then it came to me. An image in my mind. Black light. Why not? It seemed like a very reasonable question, even if it was a very dark blue. The image saw a room, with four small lamps, and a large light in the middle. The large light was creating darkness as it would be light. Then I realised someone was waving a hand in front of my face.
That night, I hade a dream. The same room was there, but the whole room had been inverted. In other words, the small lamps were creating darkness, whilst the large lamp made light. All that could be seen was not seen before, except maybe the large lamp, and all that couldn’t be seen before was, well, nothing. I looked down where the light would shine, and there was a sky.
The next evening another conversation came into place.
“Guys, how come a crack in air can’t break like with glass?”
“Air cracks due do environmental changes, whereas glass cracks are created by force”
“Environmental changes?”
“Oh god… it’s stuff like certain temperatures of winds coming in at certain angles at certain times of the day in certain times of the year in certain places of the planet…”
“Ok, so what’s on the other side of an air crack?”
“An inside dent, making whatever’s behind it blurry”
“What happens if these certain things happened directly aimed at a ripple or a Melt?”
“Nothing, there’s nothing connecting the elementary muzz-happenings except the name.”
“But why aren’t they just classed as normal disasters like tornado’s and stuff”
“Don’t know, ask your science teacher..”
That basically sums up my story. It’s about cracks in the air, muzz-happenings , black light, and the whole connection between them. Melts are simply a point in the air where the air slides down other air, creating what looks like a wax melt of air. There are only three muzz-happenings. Finally, if someone touches an air crack, whatever they touch it with turns into non-existence.
It was a little strange the next day, as no-one turned up to the random conversation, except me, of course. I walked home, which I hadn’t done for a while. Two policemen came up to me half-way though the journey.
“Let’s see some ID, pal,” said one
Surprised, and putting on a confused I face, I gave the policeman my ID. He looked from me to the ID card. He nodded to the other one.
“Tio-us Savac, you are under arrest for stealing numerous ID and the murder of Grti Defji.
Wam_man copyright
Page: