Are you writing a book?

[Peppermint_M]

Have the first 300 or so words of my latest project:

The lights lit red across the starting line and the competitors revved in anticipation rubber edging at the gridlines. In a pulse stopping moment the lights went out and cars tore out of the starting grid. The force of ten powerful motors rushing past shook the gantry and vibrated loose items across the track way. As the final racer took the first turn out of sight the howling crowd gave their attention to the myriad screens strewn across the spectator area. The sound of engines and the buzz of neon lights drowned in the cacophony.

The track wove through the ruins of Old Frisco, crumbled buildings and sunken land, floods and dumped junk cleared aside or run over by a hodgepodge of concrete slab and metal road-plate. Bright spray painted arrows and flickering halogen light lines traced out the track and course for the race. Some of the more enterprising ruin dwellers had set up spots to sell food and alcohol and impromptu betting backing. Locals gathered along the roughly marked boundary to watch the race go by. The growl of gear changes and the scream of the metal plate being over-run with friction heralded the arrival of the leaders of the pack.

Car number nine jostled with thirteen, magenta and black paint mingling on fenders and the scent of burning rubber from tyre contact. They screeched around a corner virtually hooked together before hitting a straight and the breakneck pace began again. Black thirteen would draw ahead only for nine to pass in a blur of purple and spinning gold alloys. The other eight cars were nothing to these two, they would have battled for penultimate position with the same ferocity. With grace and accuracy thirteen slipped ahead and drifted around a hairpin bend, gaining seconds down the straight ramp to the ground level of the old city. Nine followed behind as both cars flicked on their lights to illuminate the darkened ruins.

[Darth Nihilus]

Here's something I came up with earlier. I apologize if it is awful, I haven't written any fiction since high school.

The call rang through my head as I sat awake, reading. At first, it was one of desire, like your favorite song playing so loud in concert that you have to run and look. Then, it abruptly changed, into a high-pitched, mind-blanking shriek, and more and more voices joined the first, until the cacophony of screams finished, fading away into black silence. I pulled my hands from my ears; they were covered in blood, as a result of my nails digging into my tender earlobes. I knew what was going on; this was the third such instance this week. Something was hunting me down, and all these screams were those of its victims. It was of my world, I knew; how else could it project these noises so fluently into my head? As it came closer, catching up to me as I tried to run farther and farther away, it was getting better, pushing through all my mental barriers, trying to draw me in. My human form shivered in the cold of the dark bedroom, and the light on the lighthouse near the bay flashed once, twice, three times. I turned away, huddled in a bed that gave no warmth, trying to push the awful sounds out of my mind. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

C&C most definitely welcome.

[TrumpetKing]

Any chance of a wee tinker on my short-story anyone? Surely it wasn't that bad

The Real Walkers, I thought that this story was amazing. I loved all of the detail, and it had such a sad ending. However, I didn't see a specific event that made everyone die. I saw the word "crackle" around that part, so I am guessing it was a fire? Other than that, I truly enjoyed it.

Speaking of which, does anyone have anything to say about my story?

Edited May 31, 2012 by TrumpetKing67

[krystalKING]

I have decided to add chapter 1, as the other chapter 1 is now a prologue, no, all of the names in this are completely random.

CHAPTER 1 AWAKENING

As the Individual came to consciousness, he came slowly, he didn’t remember anything, images flashed in his mind, too fast to make out, too slow to leave after-images. He tried to think, to remember, but he couldn’t remember anything, he knew words, and pain. His whole body ached, but his real pain was on his chest, it felt numb and sharp at the same time. Feeling came back to him, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. He found the strength to lift his head off the ground; he looked around, and then spat out a clump of wet ash, coughing and trying to get a bad taste out of his mouth. After he cleared the taste, he looked around, trying to remember who he was, where he was, and what he was doing. Nothing came to mind, so he stayed in his position, finding it oddly comfortable. He laid there, and enjoyed the peace and quiet. Different noises slowly came into existence, An odd flapping noise, and more distant, a low rumble, and nearby that, but off to the left, was a high-pitched whine. The flapping soon became apparent; a large blue bird came to rest in front of him, staying out of arms reach. The bird was a dark blue, with black talons and a hooked beak of the same color. It had a ring of yellow around it eyes and more yellow behind the lower beak, the feathers underneath its wings were black. Its tail made up about half the body, and it was big. “Hello.” It croaked, sounding somewhat human. “Hello, birdie.” He said, hoping that the bird wasn’t going to tear his eyes out. The stranger lifted his wings and flicked them, seeming annoyed. “That is an incorrect term, technically, I am a Hyacinth Macaw, do you remember me Wilhelm?” “My name is Wilhelm?” the human asked, he now knew his name, but was still confused. How had he got here? Where was he? And most importantly, what had happened? How was this bird speaking without opening his beak? Was it telepathy? He decided he ask this being later. “Yes, I am Scooby, what do you remember?” Scooby asked, he had a voice that indicated pride and dignity. “Nothing, all I remember is blackness.” Wilhelm replied. “Ah, Excellent! You see, you and I were very close before the event, so I can give you memories, but you have to work for them. You see, the Farlanders have captured my mate, and I require your assistance.” “My assistance?” Wilhelm asked. “Yes, I’m not much of a fighter, but you can wield weapons and fight, I’ll also tell you the location of the closest Sanctuary, and I will even travel there with you after my mate has been freed.” “And if I refuse?” Wilhelm asked. “Listen, and what you hear will happen to you.” Scooby said, obviously annoyed. Wilhelm listened; the whine and rumble were on top of each other now. The rumble cut off, and Wilhelm heard rapid thumps, he realized those were gunshots. A scream cut through the air, and a louder, more rapid, shooting began. All the shots were almost on top of each other, and the screaming got louder. When the screams cut out entirely, Wilhelm was already on his feet, stumbling away from the noises. “We need to get moving, that drone will alert others, and soon, more drones will arrive.” Drones?” he asked “From the cell.” Scooby said.

[The Real Walkers]

The Real Walkers, I thought that this story was amazing. I loved all of the detail, and it had such a sad ending. However, I didn't see a specific event that made everyone die. I saw the word "crackle" around that part, so I am guessing it was a fire? Other than that, I truly enjoyed it.

Speaking of which, does anyone have anything to say about my story?

Thanks- the event is a train crash- aka where my mind wanders during my commute into college every morning on the train The "crackle" is the afterwards, the fires which surround the carriage etc. Thanks for having a look and glad you like it

I the idea of your piece but I didn't like the exceedingly short sentences. Initially I thought it was good in that it showed a rushed, worrying character however as it continued, it seemed almost a bit "I've learnt a technique and I'm going to constantly use it"- does that sound too harsh? I honestly don't mean it to but its my personal opinion Also, your simile of "flamenco dancers" doesn't quite work for me for some reason- however the problem with creative writing is that it is completely subjective and really dependant on personal taste and so ignore my thoughts. Hope these help (probably don't)

[TrumpetKing]

Thanks- the event is a train crash- aka where my mind wanders during my commute into college every morning on the train The "crackle" is the afterwards, the fires which surround the carriage etc. Thanks for having a look and glad you like it

I the idea of your piece but I didn't like the exceedingly short sentences. Initially I thought it was good in that it showed a rushed, worrying character however as it continued, it seemed almost a bit "I've learnt a technique and I'm going to constantly use it"- does that sound too harsh? I honestly don't mean it to but its my personal opinion Also, your simile of "flamenco dancers" doesn't quite work for me for some reason- however the problem with creative writing is that it is completely subjective and really dependant on personal taste and so ignore my thoughts. Hope these help (probably don't)

Don't worry. I understand everything.

['Essence]

Weirdly enough I'm writing a book series called New Randoms. It is the sequel series to another I did called Random Story, and the precurser to Random Ultimatum.