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Author	Topic: The Writers' Guild
LAJ_FETT Title: Tech Admin, Collecting CCG/TCG/Boardgames Registered: May '02	Date Posted: 3/2/07 11:53am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Just a heads-up for any UK-based unpublished fiction writers. SFX Magazine have announced the 2007 Pulp Idol contest. Basically, you submit a sci-fi, fantasy, or horror story between 1000 and 2000 words in length by 5 June 2007. No monetary prizes, but the winner and 10 runners-up will be published in a book given away with a fall issue of SFX. (They did this last year and some of the stories were pretty good). Winner does get extra copies of the book, a year-long subscription to SFX, and a selection of books from the publisher Gollancz. You can find more information and a full list of the rules here on their website. Note - fan fiction isn't allowed. -----signature----- BF - 'Bounty Hunter Wars': "Don't be an idiot. Or at least not any more of one than you have to be." "All that matters is my life and my business." "I do the things I'm good at, and for which I get paid the best." http://www.lajfett.synthasite.com
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moosemousse Title: CR - FF:UK South Registered: Oct '04	Date Posted: 3/2/07 1:12pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Cool, thanks for that. -----signature----- Vader's Mousedroid Society Fanfic links in my bio My fan art: http://boards.theforce.net/fan_art/b10020/26961879/ when infected with Small Child the victim continues to swell for nine months before the infection can be safely removed
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Sanctimoniously Registered: Dec '05	Date Posted: 3/7/07 8:48am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Ha. . .figures that I wouldn't be British. . . -----signature----- In For a Quick Garden http://www.myspace.com/sanctimoniously
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rebel_cheese Registered: Jul '06	Date Posted: 3/8/07 10:59am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	I write like a Brit but unfortunately I'm an American . . . Anyway, found a Mary Sue test here. I tested three of my sci-fi novel's characters on it, Jack, Sara, and Rebekkah. Jack got a 27 and while it noted that I cared about him, I didn't insert enough of myself in him to be a Sue/Stu. He did get 11 angst points, though. Sara got a 23, and it noted she is very little like me, although it showed I cared about her. Rebekkah straddled the line at 44 (mostly because of her 'Hey, want to see my crown-shaped birthmark?' result ), but she's not the main character of the story so I figure that erases five points. It's not the best test I've seen (it makes no comment about how large a role they play in the story) but it seems to be an all right test. -----signature----- Padawan of princess_of_naboo E-married to the amazing padawanlost Member of Charon_Force Beginning's End: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28450077&brd=10477&replies=1
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moosemousse Title: CR - FF:UK South Registered: Oct '04	Date Posted: 3/21/07 1:59am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Can someone explain this 'Mary Sue' thing to me? I've seen the phrase used a lot but I have no idea what it means. Also, where would be the best place on here to post ongoing fiction? I know I can post snippets here but I was hoping to post more than that. -----signature----- Vader's Mousedroid Society Fanfic links in my bio My fan art: http://boards.theforce.net/fan_art/b10020/26961879/ when infected with Small Child the victim continues to swell for nine months before the infection can be safely removed
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Jairen Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Sep '00	Date Posted: 3/21/07 1:40pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	This wikipedia article explains it fairly well... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Sue -----signature----- "How am I gonna get a girl? I drive around in a garbage truck!" - Hellboy Me in a film: http://copperraven.com/movies/ahoweb.wmv
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moosemousse Title: CR - FF:UK South Registered: Oct '04	Date Posted: 3/21/07 1:54pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Ah, cool, thanks for that. -----signature----- Vader's Mousedroid Society Fanfic links in my bio My fan art: http://boards.theforce.net/fan_art/b10020/26961879/ when infected with Small Child the victim continues to swell for nine months before the infection can be safely removed
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therearerulesx Registered: Apr '07	Date Posted: 6/3/07 6:59pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	i wanted to post my newest idea for a sci-fi fanfic, and was redirected here. hope you guys don't mind.... I'm obsessed with sci-fi, and for the past few weeks have been developing an idea for a series of novels. Here is the premise, and chapter updates will be coming shortly (if they're allowed) ***** World War III As the country of the United States of America became more and more powerful and successful, in turn the government became more and more corrupt. Though the President was the most powerful figure in the country, and one of the most powerful in the entire world, he wanted more. John Stenner was elected to this position in 2063. After two years in office, he had accomplished much for the economy and himself; but as is the usual case, having power only breeds the lust for more power. America had been free from war and battle for over 20 years, but in 2065 President Stenner proposed a bill to Congress that would call for a massive military creation act. Newfound technology in the area of mechanical warfare had led to the development of A.I. Assault Machines, mechanized warriors that could be controlled by a small team of soldiers. Stenner’s bill ordered the continued creation of these AI Mechs in order to massively upgrade the strength and numbers of the U.S. military. Though Congress had denied the bill, and overridden Stenner’s veto, the law ended up passing. The only evidence behind the passing of the bill is a conspiracy theory, leading to the belief that President Stenner used force to “influence” the vote of Congress. In 2066, the AI Upgrade Act was signed into law, and the military immediately began the nonstop construction of these war machines. The American people were constantly lied to, being told that ‘their security was at stake’ and ‘foreign powers threatened their nation.’ This propaganda allowed the President to further his force over the military, though there indeed was no outside threat from any enemy. Once President Stenner believed his army was ready, he moved to attack. Few understood Stenner’s orders, but there were none who would openly betray their leader. He ordered a series of lightning strikes on those countries which rivaled the U.S. economically and militarily. Within months, American forces had liberated smaller countries such as Cuba, Mexico, portions of Canada, and Japan. Resistance against Stenner’s forces was slow at first, but soon the countries that were under attack began joining together to counter the unrelenting force of the American military. China, Germany, Russia, and Great Britain were the first four nations to create and join the World Alliance (WA). Soon, what was left of Japan and Canada also joined, and the combined militaries would prove to be a successful defense against Stenner’s war. The constant battle thrust the world into what some had dubbed World War III, causing at once peaceful nations to be caught up in the horrors of war. Soon a general from Russia developed a plan that would devastate American forces. The proposition was to lure Stenner’s army away from the country, to draw their firepower away from defense and into unknown territory. While the attack was being made, World Alliance forces would swarm into the U.S. and devastate their enemy’s homelands. The campaign was successful. Though American forces eventually caught on to the lure, their defense was halfhearted. After years of constant battle the WA had destroyed entire sections of American countryside and cityscapes, leaving the earth scorched with the terror of battle. Rebirth & Resistance Once America was nearly destroyed, the citizens began realizing what a tyrant their President had become. It caused a split, where half the nation joined his side and the other half began revolting. Their revolution would be short-lived, however, for soon WA special forces had assassinated John Stenner. He was pronounced dead on the ironic date of July 4, 2071. In order to prevent such horror from ever occurring again, the office of President was abolished, and Mick Terrence, a military genius and hero of World War III, was elected as the American Grand Chancellor. Even after seeing the destruction that can come from inside their own country, the American people were blind enough to make the same mistake once more. Though Terrence’s intentions were naught but pure, such power in the hands of one man would again prove destructive to the country. Instantly the nation began rebuilding. Where once their lands were filled with plains, mountains, rivers and valleys, now all that citizens could see were looming skyscrapers. Huge metropolises spanned the entire length of states, giving a beautiful world in the city, but leaving detested slums below the surface of the buildings. Though the nation tried to rebuild in order to abolish its past mistakes, they had only reinstated them. It would be years, however, before they would come to realize it. Soon Chancellor Terrence began slipping down into the same hole that had plagued so many world powers. Little by little, his paranoia grew, and he became afraid that old enemies would begin to hunt for their revenge. Taking the same path as his predecessors, he began recreating the destructive AI Mechs in order to strengthen their homeland security. Those citizens who weren’t blind, however, saw what was coming, and they weren’t about to let it happen again. In the silence of the underground slums, the American people began to build their revolution. Little by little, information traveled by word of mouth, until a group was finally formed for a revolution. A leader rose up under the simple codename of “Rain.” He began to organize the revolution into a fighting regime, so that they would be ready to counterattack any threat made by Grand Chancellor Terrence. Once he deemed the group large enough, they began making quick strikes on military caches in order to steal supplies for battle. Soon Rain was ready for war, but remained in the shadows, waiting for the right opportunity. -----signature----- "Two there should be; no more, no less. One to embody the power, the other to crave it." -Darth Bane Revan - The Mandalorian Wars Pt. 1 - http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/26761330/p1/?4 KOTOR Novelization - http://boards.theforce.net/befo
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NYCitygurl Title: Generally Out to Lunch Manager: SFFBC, C&G, NSWFF Registered: Jul '02	Date Posted: 8/21/07 4:19pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Upping a little. This is where discussion on original fiction goes. -----signature----- "Not till the moon falls. Not till the world ends."
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Ange_Dechu Registered: Aug '07	Date Posted: 8/21/07 4:33pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Hi guys. I have been told that I can post original concepts here...So...here is an idea, a start for an universe. (not: the concept showcased here is not central to the universe. the girl is central, however) This would be in fourty-fifty pages, and would serve as a sort of introduction. A bit like the Hobbit, in a sense (note: I'm not saying that this is LIKE the Hobbit. I mean, I hope that this will be as succesful as the Hobbit for setting the cadre) Medieval World: An woman, clad in the white vestments of the Censeurs (a sort of super-Inquisitors) arrive in a town, causing unease, because many have an idea why she is there. The Count is very nervous, and sent one of his parent, the Knight, to receive her. She dismiss him casually, walking in. She is not Noble, and despite all their so-called aristocratic attitude, both the Count and the Knight are shaking in her presence. For, in addition of having quite a…presence, her vestments are the symbol of the Law and the Church. The mere fact that she was attacked in route by assassins paid by the Count-a fact she reveals casually-is a sign of how the Count is desperate: as killing or wounding a Censeure is a guarantee of major trouble The Censeure have a very glacial attitude, but…she warms strangely when she saw a little girl in the street-Romanova. Her attitude sours again when she realize that, when she tried to talk her, she only managed to get Romanova afraid. It’s revealed by little bits that she had a daughter liking a bit like Romanova, and that she died in horrible circumstances, because of her mother job. The Censeure almost got insane at the time: she was not what you could call a perfect mother, but she loved her daughter, Iris, which she considered the only good thing she had done in a long time. When she thinks about Iris, her already dark mood worsen a lot-which can be very dangerous for her foes. The Censeure, in her discussion with the Count, shows that she know basically everything about his plans (note: allowing, this way, the reader to know the said plans. Hey., it's better than the Death Plan Speech), and she slowly ''execute'' him by unraveling them in front of him The Censeure use a somewhat unusual technique in fantasy (especially for her character) : she use various documents showing that the Count 1)Sent his Chaplain to to the local Evechy, to borrow, under fallacious pretexts, dubious books. The Censeure raise her doubts about the real capacity of the said books to open the Gates of Hell, and similar things. 2)The said Chaplain, in a ''lieu de mauvaise de vie'' (an medieval french euphemism for brothel) was killed by thugs, an most unfortunate accident The Censeure then note that three parents of the Count had unfortunate accidents over the past years. 3)The Count hired a master locksmith of the nearest city, to perform work here. Considering that the official reason, improving the security of the treasure chamber, is downright hilarious, the Censeure note that the bills and devis of the locksmith (who had another unfortunate accident) shows elements that are as hilarious if the Count really plan to use that to keep his guest under control; cage and locks. The Count defend himself rather meekly, protesting that he is a devout believer. The Censeure is rather amused by this, knowing very well the way the mind of the Count work: believing that He would be less offended, he probably made his ridiculous ceremonies The Censeure, after a bit of agressive chit-chat, then say to the Count that, actually, no one CARE if he killed a couple of black hens and made pentagrams with salt. It's ridiculous to think that such things are ''eevil''. What will make his soul marked for the Sheol, however, is WHY he is doing this: the fortunes of the Count have declined thanks to a certain ''scandal'' involving little girls in the Capital. Apparently, this upset the Censeur a lot-much more than the rather childish attempts at Demon summoning (this is clearly related to both Iris and Romanova, especially when she realize that Romanova’s parent are sending her regularly at the Citadel, for various little jobs) The Censeure then note that the Count is a fool if he thinks that what he summoned-a Succubus-will do his biddings. That the Succbus will be a tool to his well-desserved destruction. (Apparently, the Count thought that the Succubus could help him in his designs-say, by helping some of his parents to die....) And...the Censeure walks out, saying that nothing the Count will do will be able to save him-thanks to his acts, no one will assist him. Once outside, nightfall is coming the Censeure find a lodging, from a very devout lady. It’s very obvious that the Censeure is annoyed with her, and is not really listening. The Censeure ask some questions about Romanova, that the old lady answer with scorn: Romanova is not a very frequentable person for someone of her standing. The Censeure remains polite…while thinking that whatever will happen in town, this old idiot will desserve her fate. The next morning, the Censeure intercept Romanova as she is sent to the Citadel (the Censeure note that with the Count reputation, you have to be a criminal to send a girl there. She is not considering for a second that this is accidental). Basically, the Censeure just want to take Romanova out of town for a couple of days, to be sure that she will not be harmed by the Count…and what the Count have summoned. Romanova (who is anything but naïve) is anything but cheerful when the Censeure ask her for guiding her in the countryside-she realize plainly that this is a pretext. The Censeure will feel awful when she will discover that Romanova was dying of fear, sure that the Censeure was taking her to a secluded spot for interrogation. The Censeure, however, desperately try to be friendly with Romanova, to talk with her a bit as they are moving out of town toward the only ruin in the area, an priory. The Censeure suppose that it’s there that the Count did is summoning, as according to most lore, Succubus enjoy profaning holy sites (the Censeure think that Count is probably as soiling as a real Demon, even more, and his attitude toward religion is even worse: what kind of faith he have, if he think he can placate Him by not profaning His name in his chapel, but by doing this in a ruined chapel ? Not to mention that, in fact, Succubus don’t act like this) The Censeure is not doing any search proper once there, preferring visibly the company of Romanova, trying in ackward manner to learn about her a bit. We realize here that the Censeure is viciously manipulative with anyone, but she try to be honest, sincere, with Romanova-and she is not very successful in social relationships when she can’t use intimidation or dread. In fact, she is doing anything she can to put Romanova more at her ease, including pretending to ignore that there is a priory in the area, to allow Romanova to show it to her.(The reader realize that when the Censeur said she know everything, she was not bluffing) A peculiar point show this: as Romanova says that she know that there is an Succubus in the Citadel, the Censeure ask her why she know this. Romanova saw, at dawn, a strange lady on the ramparts of the Citadel. This worry the Censeure, as she know that the exact Succubus that have been summoned have a strange fear : claustrophobia. The Censeure is not searching the ruins for a simple reason: she is not interested in finding remains of grotesque ceremonies…and besides, she will not go in a wet cave . Why she would do that ? The guys that the Count will sent will show her where to search….. At a give moment, the Censeure ask Romanova to take her mount to a nearby river, for make it drink. A pretext, and Romanova know it. She goes…And the Knight, with some soldiers arrive. The Censeure find this very amusing, and kill without trouble the first four soldiers, keeping the Knight for her dessert. She plays with him a bit (all of this verbally, lol…), saying that he is bound for Sheol, teasing him on his dubious faith (he believe that, cause he served the very dubious Cardinal Delacroix, the indulgence he got from him will save him). The key point is that, according to the Censeure, the Knight will be damned because he his non-repentant, that he don’t understand what is atonement and redemption. At this time, the Knight realize that the Succubi back in the Citadel is the one that sent him in this situation, in this suicide mission: she manipulated the Count in thinking that he would betray him. Thus the mission. We also realize that the Censeure have some talents for the magical arts, but prefers discretion. Instead of, say, incinerating the guy, she just make an relic he is holding goes white hot… This very morale-raising situation don’t last long: the Censeure, after talking with him for say ten-minutes (a guy in armour, full plate, standing under the noon sun for ten minutes…Ouch for his stamina) attacks. He get exhausted quickly by trying to rain blows on such a nimble foe…and he ends up in the crypt, thanks to a little push of the Censeure….With his spine broken The Censeure walk away, indicating politely that this should take only a couple of days before he die. The Censeure just have time to ditch the soldiers bodies in a ravine before Romanova come back. Actually quite nervous now, the Censeure try to woe her with…jam: she offers to her guide some stuff she had bought in town (the Censeure, obviously, like sweets a lot, and she thought that maybe this would be a better approach for trying to please Romanova than the other stuff she like, like manipulation, intimidation….) All this occurs as a the Knight is slowly dying, a hundred meters away. The Censeure is quite able to be able to separate work from pleasure. During this nice picnic (lol), the Censeure notice quite easily that Romanova, despite the fact that she don’t eat a lot (she is understandably quite afraid) looks at the food with a marked interest-she is not fed very well. This pains the Censeure, who had really awful memories about this, for herself. She decide to keep Romanova with her for a couple of days more…at least. She finds some stuff that is pretty harmless (ex: a circle of cinders, the remains of a campfire…)and tell to Romanova that this a proof that the Count made summoning here (Romanova is deeply sceptikal on this matter, asking the question that most fantasy characters never ask : But why he left that here) The Censeure, however, don’t want to FORCE Romanova to come with here. She genuinely ask if Romanova would like to come with her to a nearby town for further investigation. It’s when Romanova says no (well, in a more or less open manner) that she have to rely on lying. But she can’t bring herself to that….for Romanova, at least. (She lied to Iris, and the Censeure is deep down convinced that it’s because of that that Iris died) Instead of “lying”, the Censeure arrange herself for making sure that the Count will send troops against her She do something completely illogical: she come back in town, carrying well in sight an relic recovered in the crypt. Actually, it’s just a piece of metal from one of the weapons of the guys she dispatched. Upon seeing a party of soldier very busy in pretending to be exercising, while standing watch for what is happening at the Priory, the Censeure ask them very specific question about events in past weeks. She don’t mind when one guy slip back in town… She is very pleased when she notice that Romanova is aware of what is occuring. The Censeure is a quite witty person, and she appreciate this quality in other persons. The soldier tells to the Count, panicked, who go back in his chambers to…confer with his guest, telling her that her foe is in town, that she have found something against her. Avarielle shows great alarm at the mention of this, and said that the Censeure have to be killed, or everything will be lost. As the Count leaves very quickly, Avarielle…laugh. She visibly enjoy, and a lot, to make a fool of him. It’s a this stade that the reader realize that Avarielle have the shape and the mind of a 14 years old Human girl. As the Censeure continue in interrogation of the various pickets of the Count, he send against her another group of thugs (Pathetic ones, in fact). The Censeure first plan to kill them, THEN realize that this would be somewhat bad, with Romanova in tow (cause maybe she would not like this. The Censeure, note, find monstruous to lie to Romanova, but did not gave second thought until the last minute, about killing foes in front of her…)The Censeure intimidate them, and they back off. The Censeure then say to Romanova that this would be foolish to return now…and Romanova is kinda forced to follow. Their destination : the nearby Library City of Lorraine, Shiloh. Basically, this is because the Censeure have a liking for the place, and that it's not too far. This will also give her a pretext for taking Romanova there: Shiloh is a sort of sanctuary, where no armed troops are allowed (as in real life, this regulation is enforced mostly because no rebellious Noble in Lorraine want to pass in history as the man who violated the neutrality of the most treasured city of Lorraine. BTW, this point is a sort of attempt to differentiate the world of Lady L from countless other fantasy realms: kinda like in real medieval europa, knowledge-actual knowledge, not ''forbidden one'' or trash like that-is highly valued in this world. ) As Romanova shows a surprising interest for the books, the Censeure gladly try to teach her some reading skills. I don't know how I will proceed here, but this is a key scene: the Censeure really try to be helpful, but realize that most of the time, she looks clusmy, if not downright weird for Romanova. She will be delighted beyond belief when she realize that she can do something actually useful for her ''guide''. She will even buy her something, even if Romanova can’t read yet (obviously) and the item being quite pricy. The Censeure is so delighted that she almost forgot about her fake investigation…. Then, someone come, a woman of her age: Anarkiah, who was sent in the area for helping someone to pin down the Count (more precisely, her boss want her to give a slight assistance to the royal emissary sent to Shiloh for search for a convenient pretext to dispose of the Count) Anarkiah and the Censeure are not really fitting well. In fact, it's obvious that it's only because they are in a Library City (both of them consider knowledge and books as a thing much more precious than gold) and because they are in presence of Romanova. Anarkiah is a kind as the Censeure with Romanova, but she is deeply concerned about what the Censeure is doing with her, despite the obvious good intentions of her rival. As they exchange icy comments, Anarkiah calls the Censeur «Lady L», which upset deeply the Censeure, who reply in a rather puzzling manner: she says that she will not take insults from a walking pillow. Then, they separate, Anarkiah relucantly admitting that the Censeure is probably not worse than the denizens of the city Romanova is from. As the Censeure find a hostellery for the night, she arrange for her and Romanova to take a bath. She is not very surprised to see marks on the back of Romanova, and she is despaired when she learn that ‘’he’’ noticed the interest of the Censeure for Romanova, and forced her to go with her, in the hopes that she would gave to Romanova stuff. Then, the Censeure is astonished when Romanova ask her why she have little marks on the wrists. Romanova ask this in a kind of rhetorical question, cause she know very well: she have once found her mother in a similar situation. To the horror of the Censeure, Romanova’s mother is a prostitute, and her..well…pimp…is the one sending Romanova to the Citadel, basically hoping to sell her to the Count (he do this more for control her mother than actually getting rid of Romanova) The Censeure don’t sleep much that night, or during the return trip for the city. She is deeply disapointed, however, when she realize that Romanova’s mother is maybe not the best model available, but she was deeply worried about her daughter. The Censeure, in a rather unsurprising move, say to the mother when Romanova is away that she could provide a life to Romanova that she desserves. As the mother ask her if she plan to give Romanova to the Church as an oblate or raise her as a page (servant), the Censeure reply, with indignation, that she don’t want this-at one point, she let out that she basically want Romanova for herself (The way she says it certainly not make Romanova’s mother very positive about this) Then, the pimp arrive. The Censeure control her disgust, and decide to deal with him….She realize quickly that he is Romanova father, and that he always used her to ‘’control’’ her mother, since her conception. (Romanova know this very well, but she hates him to the point that she is not considering him her father) The discussion with Romanova's father is not very productive: the Censeure, disgusted at the thought that he is bascially selling his daughter to her. This ends up with her stabbing him by the hand on a table, and leaving while saying that she will not lower herself to his level. (and throwing him some cash, to be sure that he will not harm Romanova) Outside, she meets up with Romanova...and do something that herself finds awful, insinuating to Romanova that her mother may know something about the Count activites. This result in tears Middle of the night: Romanova wake up…and the tow is ablaze. Daemons are on the prowl: after the Censeure returned, the Count tried to use Avarielle, with rather poor results. Basically, almost everyone in town is dead, except the Count (Avarielle is playing with him), and Romanova, who is rescued by the Censeure as a demon is coming for her. The Censeure, avoiding to answer to questions about the fate of Romanova’s mother, move with Romanova out of town, not before a little face to face meeting with Avarielle and the Count, where nothing happens (for the Censeure and Romanova): Avarielle is even eerily nice (verbally) with Romanova Then, this could almost be the conclusion. Romanova and the Censeure as the dawn rise, the Censeure telling her that she will take care of her… It’s just that there is a little part after. As Romanova sleep a little, after a lot of efforts from the Censeure part, Avarielle arrive, towing two daemons with her. The Censeure merely invite her to sit, and pat the daemons, who react like dogs near their master Which is the exact situation. Avarielle thanks the Censeure from freeing her, and tells her that it’s pretty sure that with what she left, the Inquisition will send another Censeure…a real one this time…She then try to say that the ‘’Censeure’’ may have done a little to much to secure the affection of Romanova (it’s obvious that, for her part, she founds too Romanova adorable : to take her words, what worry her is the fact that the ‘’concurrence’’ (lol) will be pretty upset) The ‘’Censeure’’ reply that Romanova’s parents were unworthy of her… This end up with the ''Censeure'' telling kindly to a waking Romanova that she finds that ''Madam'' is way too cold. She would be delighted if Romanova called her by her true name : Lilith
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PadmeA_Panties Registered: Oct '03	Date Posted: 9/1/07 9:06pm Subject: The Guard (Unfinished work by Benjamin D. Kline)
	The Guard An Unfinished Work by Benjamin D. Kline Wastelands. It was pure wastelands in every direction as far as the eye could see. In the middle of these wastelands was a camp. Inside this camp were hundreds of men cramped, starving, diseased, and dying. Outside of their huts men patrolled, their souls as black as the earth that crunched beneath their feet. Among these men, Baruch stood at a crossroads. Young of age he had been swept up in the grand movement of the government. Enlisting as soon as his schooling was finished, hoping to be sent to the frontline of the Great War, instead he found himself here, at Camp Viktor. Camp Viktor was home to seven hundred odd men, all deemed inferior by Baruch’s government due to their religious beliefs and hair color. No one, inmates, and guards alike, knew what the camp name stood for. The guards stated that it was merely short for “victory”. Many of the inmates claimed it was to dishonor a great writer who helped millions of his people. Baruch cared neither for the camp name or the camp, he loathed every minute. “I feel just as one of the inmates with my duty here,” Baruch once muttered to another guard. His dreams were not filled with guarding animals but with great valor on the battlefield. A loud shrill whistle pierced the silent night. Baruch glanced at his watch, it was the twenty-first hour, it was time for the cleansing. The bedraggled inmates marched out of their huts followed by guards with whips. They stood in a muddy clearing. A guard’s voice erupted, “Undress!” The inmates slowly removed their tattered scrapes of cloth from their rail-thin forms. “Form up!” The guard barked next. The now naked men formed themselves into rows by numerous guards. These guards marched up and down the rows shouting numbers. “One-One-One-Four, One-One-One-Five, One-One-One-Six,” Each role-call was followed by a hoarse timid ‘present’ as the person showed his branded arm to a guard. Following the roll-call men in white lab coats with sterile gloves came forward and stood at the front of each row. From their pockets they produced scissors and small tiny shears. The men then went from inmate to inmate in their designated row, shaving all new hair that had grown since last week. After all of this was done, the men in the white coats backed away. “Spread out!” Commanded the guard again. The inmates complied with slow hesitant steps; their bare feet tentatively, lightly, touched the rough crust of earth as they spread out into one large line. A large burley guard dragged a giant hose and dropped it in front of the row of men. “Brace yourself!” The guard shouted as he hoisted the hose again, holding it tightly against his hip. He gave a hand gesture to someone unseen, and then suddenly water erupted from the massive head of the hose. The great gust of the water converged upon the inmates who had their arms locked together, their legs bent, and ready. The water struck the men, reddening their skin instantly on impact, knocking many over and sending them tumbling. This ‘cleansing’ lasted several minutes before the great water-beast ceased. The now bruised inmates picked themselves off the muddy ground and resumed their long line formation. “Retire!” The burly guard commanded. The inmates quickly scrambled for whatever tattered clothing they could get their hands on, to defend their sickly thin forms from the night’s cold. After the mad scramble the inmates were led to their huts for their evening ‘rest’. Grudgingly Baruch awoke. He had the morning shift and had to awaken the inmates and take them to their work sites. Baruch dressed and brewed his coffee which he drank on his walk from the barracks to the inmates’ huts. Using his rifle butt he banged on the wall of hut number five, “Wake up you maggots!” Baruch entered the hut. All but one of the inmates were ready. Baruch walked to the board with the still, inert, body. Checking the body, Baruch pronounced the inmate dead and led the remaining inmates out of the hut. Once outside of the hut, he made a hand gesture to a man in a white lab coat and quickly the man converged on the hut. He began marching them on their long journey through the wastelands. One-One-One-Nine, his real name being Franklin, always the point man, marched alongside Baruch. Franklin matched Baruch step by step as they marched onward on the horrible grey soil. Ever since his first week when Baruch was forced to shoot and kill an attempting escapee, he never had to hit, yell, or shoot any of the inmates on their journey; which greatly pleased Baruch. Baruch enjoyed the company of Franklin as they marched. Compared to most of the other inmates, Franklin was intelligent, insightful, and even cultured. It was for this reason that Baruch was attempting to procure some literature that he could smuggle in for Franklin. Today Franklin was picking Baruch’s brain about philosophers and their philosophies, particularly that of John Locke. They never taught John Locke in any of Baruch’s schooling. Instead, he had learned of philosophers such as Karl Marx and Adolf Hitler. “Locke’s greatest philosophy addition to the world was the Tabula Rasa.” Franklin continued on. Franklin stumbled and fell to his knees. Baruch waited until he was ready to continue walking, before he continued himself. Baruch knew many of the other guards would not have stopped, and Baruch admitted to himself that if any other inmate had fallen he probably would not have stopped. He wanted to be able to help Franklin up to his feet, but he knew that as a guard he simply couldn’t do that. So once Franklin was standing Baruch resumed their pace, hastening it a bit to make up for the stop. “So what is this Tabula Rasa?” Baruch asked. Franklin, his voice a little short due to the brisk pace, replied, “It’s the idea of a clean slate. Locke claims that we all are born with a clean slate, that we all have the right to freedom.” Franklin eyed Baruch over, wondering how he would view that last statement in contrast to his current occupation. Baruch gave no outward change, all he muttered was: “Interesting.” Franklin took this as a slight victory. Thought was the seed for the germination of action. They continued their march into the wastelands in silence. The men were busy at work while Baruch and two other guards stood and watched over them. Baruch spoke up, “Bertrand, have you ever heard of John Locke?” Bertrand Burke shook his head ‘no’. Baruch continued, “Supposedly this Locke was a great philosopher. If he was, why didn’t we learn about him in our schooling?” Bertrand appeared annoyed by Baruch’s questioning. “We didn’t learn about him, therefore he never existed. Baruch you’re a damn fool if you listen to that crap those idiots tell you.” Bertrand spoke his words as if they were phlegm needing spat out to clean one’s pallet. He used his rifle to indicate the inmates below them, “Never listen to what they tell you. It’s all propaganda… lies.” Baruch looked to the other guard, Jeff Tomerson, who just shrugged and walked away. Bertrand soon followed suit, leaving Baruch alone with his thoughts. Baruch always enjoyed his off-week. Currently he was walking down a long aisle; the walls on both sides of him were covered with books of all types. He had spent all morning looking for books by John Locke or his famous Tabula Rasa, yet still his arms were empty. A hand tapped him gently on the shoulder. Baruch turned around to find an elderly woman, the librarian. “May I help you comrade?” She asked with a sweet, soft, gentle voice. Baruch nodded, “Yes, I’m looking for anything about a man named John Locke.” The ancient woman nodded and began to lead him away. “Let’s have a look on the datascreen.” She led him over to a large computer. She sat down in front of the computer in a hard well-worn wooden chair. She typed ‘John Lock’ into the machine, no results, so she typed ‘John Locke’, again – no results. She looked up any books pertaining anything with the words ‘John Lock’, ‘John Locke’, or ‘Tabula Rasa’, finally finding one book. She printed out its identification number and handed it to Baruch. Baruch found the book on a high shelf in the corner of the library. Baruch pulled it down, the book was entitled: The Great Traitors of Humanity, it was written by Isaac Hularn, the same man who wrote: Future Adolfs – Our Greatest Modern Thinkers and Marx: Genius or God? He opened up the book and looked for the article about John Locke. It read: “John Locke was arrested for writing traitorous propaganda damaging to the social, emotional, spiritual, and moral well being of all citizens. While in prison Locke confessed and later committed suicide.” Baruch looked about, seeing no one; he tore out the page and pocketed it. He put the book back, as he was leaving the library he nodded to the librarian who smiled gently back at him. Baruch had the morning shift again. He barged into the inmates hut, shoving and throwing aside inmates in his way, making his way to Franklin. “Did you lie to me?” He yelled at the startled inmate. He grabbed Franklin and yanked him to his feet. “Baruch!” Franklin yelped. “Lied about what?” Baruch shook a piece of paper in Franklin’s face, “John Locke!” Baruch handed the paper over to Franklin who read it. “Propaganda!” Franklin spat the word out as if it were a curse. Baruch’s hands released Franklin and he tumbled to the ground more like a rock than a leaf. Baruch eyed him suspiciously, “Propaganda… Bertrand mentioned that… he said it was lies… he said you were telling me propaganda and lies.” Franklin got to his feet; he waved the torn page at Baruch, “This filth!” The inmates all had their backs to the wall watching the scene with great interest. Franklin sighed and sat dejectedly on his board. “Baruch, its all lies, every word of this filth.” He let the page float harmlessly to the dirt below. Baruch, equally rejected, sat down on Franklin’s board next to him. “Why?” Franklin placed a hand on Baruch’s shoulder sympathetically, “Better to control you with lies than with the truth of the world.” Baruch turned his head to look at Franklin and for the first time noticed the immense depth of his eyes. With a crash Bertrand stumbled into the hut, a large piece of wood protruding from his chest, blood running down his shirt, “Rebellion…” He wheezed before he collapsing to the ground with a mighty thud. Dirt and dust flew up in his body’s wake. Baruch leapt to his feet pulling free his rifle as he ran out of the hut. He looked about trying to find the source for the rebellion, after a great clamor, he found the source. The source of the commotion being hut number one, with a look back at hut number four, he rushed headlong towards hut number one. Meeting up with four other guards, one being Jeff Tomerson, they made their way over to hut number one. They approached the hut slowly, hesitantly, worrying about what they might find inside. Loud clashes and thuds intermixed themselves in with great screams and cries, both of pain and of joy. The guards all eyed each other, looking for some kind of answer to a question no one knew. Baruch stepped forward, within meters of the hut, and began to spray the exterior of the wooden shack with bullets. The air soon filled with an even greater clamor than before. The sound of the gun, the sound of the bullets flying through the air, the sound of wood splintering at the contact with the bullets, the sound of bullets piercing flesh as the bullets emerged into the hut – having cut through the thin wood, and the great screams and cries of pain and agony from the inmates inside. After finishing his second cartridge Baruch stood still, panting. To Baruch’s mind, if not his ears, there was silence. There was no more noise, not even his own great panting. Sweat rolled down his face and back, his eyes transfixed on the ruined exterior of the hut. The other three guards approached Baruch, their mouths moving but no noise was emitted, or so thought Baruch. He let his rifle drop to the ground below, discarded, no longer needed. He closed his eyes and relieved himself of a great sigh. Upon reopening his eyes, his senses were overwhelmed. Jeff Tomerson was speaking to him, a few great cries were dying off, and with a great clash the door of the hut broke outwards and a man covered with blood and dirt staggered out and collapsed. Baruch turned back to his fellow guards. He blinked, opening his eyes to find one guard retrieving his dropped rifle. Jeff was speaking, “…you’ll get a medal for this, I’m sure of it,” Jeff clasped Baruch’s shoulder, “well done. We better tell the white coats.” Baruch was relieved of duty for the remainder of the day. In the evening he was given a physical and psychological examination. They even gave him some pills they said would help him to sleep. He lay awake, his mind ignoring the world. His left hand holding the bottle of the pills, his right hand holding a note commemorating and congratulating him. His medal ceremony was to be held in two days. He was to be relieved of duty until two days after his ceremony. Images ran through his head; men ripped to shreds by bullets – their flesh flew through the air graphically, the emaciated bodies of the inmates, skeletons of men groveling and begging for food; these images were punctuated by screams of pain and great agony. Baruch’s body turned and twisted in his cot but he didn’t notice, for he was lost in his feverish nightmares. Suddenly Baruch awoke, to find that it was morning. This cycle of pills, sleep, nightmares, continued for Baruch for three more days and nights. When he wasn’t asleep Baruch began too question his sanity. Baruch walked briskly by the ruined shell of hut number one as he made his way to hut number thirteen, where Franklin had been relocated. Hut number thirteen was the designated sick and dying hut, the thirteenth hut chosen for its unlucky number correspondence. Baruch found Franklin lying on a board, his skin a sickly yellow and green hue. Baruch sat next to his head, not caring if whatever Franklin had was contagious. Baruch gently ran his hand over his sick friend’s forehead, feeling the heat radiate off of him. Franklin’s eyes fluttered open painfully. “You could cook an egg off of me,” his voice was strained; each breath caused him great pain. Baruch was forced to divert his eyes. He would do anything for this gentle man, anything to just relieve him of pain, of his body’s torture upon itself. Baruch looked back at Franklin, for the first time noticing his age, Baruch guessed him to be in his mid fifties. “I killed many of your friends,” Baruch suddenly blurted. Franklin waved his hand at his young friend feebly, “I know.” Franklin coughed a horrible rattling noise that sounded as if his insides were shaking loose. “It’s of no consequence, it was their own fault. They sealed their fate when they began their little revolution.” “I need to get you out of here,” Baruch gently whispered. Franklin ignored him and continued on, “Many more of them are dying now, so glad am I that I was not in their hut. Go… walk outside and look to the west, see the rows of crosses, no messiah, no Jesus is born on those mighty planks of wood, just horribly misguided wretches of humans.” Franklin’s body soon erupted into a fit of coughing which only subsided after Baruch fetched him some water and a cool cloth to place over his forehead. Baruch waited until Franklin regained his breath, “You ignored me.” Franklin gave a chuckle, a weak hoarse bit of laughter befitting the wastelands that surrounded them, “I did, I did.” “I am going to get you out of here. I swear.” “Then your as foolish as those inmates, go get your own cross and place yourself upon it.” Franklin made to roll over and look away but Baruch would have none of it. Baruch pulled him back over to him and made him look into his eyes, “You will be free.” Franklin coughed and blood began to trickle down his mouth towards his chin. “Coat! Coat!” Baruch laid him back down on the board and ran for a white coat attendee. The two came rushing back to Franklin’s side; the white coat had Baruch leave while he attended to him. -----signature----- Come visit my MiniCity: <a href=http://rypcordia.myminicity.com/> Rypcordia</a>
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lightning-girl Registered: Mar '07	Date Posted: 9/3/07 2:21pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Hate to depress you but anyone could come in here, take you're ideas and claim them as their own. I've got a sense of honor that prevents me from doing so but others aren't as picky. I've just finished a 111 page novel that's going through an editation...well overhaul in my opinion. It's still basically the same but let me tell you something, my spelling abilities are about as evident as air, you know it's there but you can't see it...that means I can't spell very well, or in my favorite expression, I can't spell my way out of a wet, flimsy paper bag...I forget where I heard the wet, flimsy paper bag part. Anyway, it's got a lot of content errors like since I knew everything I didn't bother explaining it at all. My friends and my mom, who are going over it, though, tend to notice more of that since they don't know what's going on. It's really fun to write, I'm working on a horror novel right now, it's really spooky...basically meaning it starts out with fog and a threatening forest. Anyway I'm almost done ranting, I've always been fascinated by alternate outcomes, like if Hitler had won the war. I started a book about it but now I forgot what I was writing. Ok now I'm done. -----signature----- http://hallaqueen.proboards74.com/index.cgi http://dragongirl89.proboards99.com/ apprentice to NYCitygurl
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Sanctimoniously Registered: Dec '05	Date Posted: 10/17/07 7:56am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	appears from nowhere -----signature----- In For a Quick Garden http://www.myspace.com/sanctimoniously
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