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#1
Aphotic

Aphotic

    Green Eggs And Ham

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The rough draft of something I just wrote, it ties in with a few chapters I have already written, but need to go through and edit to make it all flow and remove a few characters. Anyways a little background to have things make a little more sense. The main character is an anthropomorphic otter who was once captured as a POW at a young age and tortured. this excerpt I'm posting was an attempt at developing a character within the writing. Not sure if this should be said, but I have developed the character mainly off my own thoughts and emotions. I use writing as a way to vent. I will also post some ideas I have for another book that's non-fiction, I'm thinking about basing it on society and what everyday people have to go through.

Here's the excerpt...

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#2
Aphotic

Aphotic

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Ah, damn it. I have to go. I'll type it up in the morning.

My sig is short simple and sweet, very much unlike life.


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#3
Hell_In_Your_Eyes

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I was wondering "where is it?" lol

#4
Aphotic

Aphotic

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I laid in the moonlight looking up at the sky. The crisp and cool air combined with cold rocky river bank upon which I lay made the panaroma of stars painted before me appear icy, reflective, and clear. Without realizing it, I ran my fingers down my lower back, I ran them along the grooves of scar tissue. "what do I really want?" I silently whispered the suddenly occuring question. A short and simple list came to mind. Love, life, an adventure of sorts, and if none of the above can be achieved... death "Have I really lost hope?" The rhetorical question still managed to escape my lips. Of course, why else would you be so self destructive? "True." Sometimes it's best not to argue when you happen to make realizations about one's self. "I suppose my insomnia and lack of apetite aren't just from depression, but also self induced. I'm commiting forms of self-sacrifice to push myself to my limit; exhausting my body and mind." You almost enjoy the ache in your body and the burning behind you eyes... maybe from guilt? Though not nessecary. I shook my head at the suggestion; I didn't want to believe it, but something insdie inside told me otherwise. See, you know it's true. You feel guilty above everything sinful in you, lustful thoughts, hateful ocmments you've kept to yourself, and others not so contained. Guilt eats you alive ebcause you take responsibility for everyone around you. You bottle your rage within... I shut off my mind suppressing all thought, too tired to be debating with myself. Incredibly frustrated and aggravated at the same time, I sighed aloud. "Bah." ... "Bah what?" When I realized the uselessness of the expression I had just spoken, I wanted to scream or shout aloud. Even crying would be a nice change. Too good to shout fuck? So you resort to other useless words? "Fine... fuck it, fuck it all." I still didn't feel as if I had vented anything. With a sudden burst of energy I rolled off the bank and into the frigid river; into a world of almost total silence. In my natural element, I relaxed a bit, only a bit... my whiskers picked up a world of motion around me as various marine creatures fled from their natural predator. That's okay, I'm not hungry The bright night sky shined down through the water giving the rocks and other debris a thin veil of rippling light. Looking at my self, I saw specks of erie light dance across the exposed fur on my upper body. The cold was intense, even through my body's various protections. Too bad nothing felt too cold anymore. Not thinking, simply acting on the first things my emotions brought to my mind, I began to dart and weave around the various debris amoung the river bottom. Fighting against the current felt good, mainly because I had something to focus my anger on. The burn in my body steadily increased as I pushed my exhausted body on. Several times I happened to roughly bump a large tree branch or rock and instead at grimacing at the pain, I almost smiled. A sudden thought hit me, causing me to stop in my tracks. I quickly drew a dagger from my belt. Watching the light ripple and dance down the exposed blade, I fought an internal battle. There has been many things you had thought you would never turn to. Two of those were SI and suicide, but do they really seem that bad anymore? the debate continued and finally ended when I shook my head "No" and replaed the blade to it's sheath. "I'm not turning to that..." Yet "Damn it shut the fuck up." I surfaced and looked to the sky feeling worse than I had before, because now instead of feeling guilt, frustration, and lonliness. I now felt fear at what I was becoming.

I have another few pages written along with 10 typed pages that all need to be edited and fixed. this one has spots that I need to fix, but that's the rough draft.

Edited by Aphotic, 09 December 2004 - 01:19 AM.


My sig is short simple and sweet, very much unlike life.


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#5
Aphotic

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(other book idea)

There are times when you find yourself in a situation that you really don't want to be in. The seed of doubt having been planted, you cling to what you know no matter how wrong it might be, simply because you are afraid of the thought of change and the insecuirity of what might go wrong. Though the indecisiveness is frustrating, your frustration turns into sinful actions as you try to vent. Not knowing where to turn, you become introverted and depressed, striving to find someone something to release what is bottled up in you. You want to scream, you want to cry; you want someone to listen. You spin in mad fevered circles looking for a release valve, nothing works; you can't even get temporary reprieve from the pressure. Depression, tears that won't flow free. Insomnia begins to affect your health, loss of apetite. Though sleep saves you from the pain, you don't want to sleep for unknown reasons. Going for days without eating, getting a kind of pleasure from your pain. Physical pain starts to appeal, it begins with small pricks. Death seems the only permanent escape. At times just the thought of living or moving tires you to then point of wanting collapse, close your eyes and never awaken. Smashing your head into a bloody pulp against the wall holds great appeal. Your mind seems to be your own worst enemy forcing thoughts and images into your pattern of thinking, interupting you at the most inoppoirtune times. Lonliness attributes to your depression, you wish to have someone to hold and to hold you, to seek comfort in another becomes a desire. Everything you want seems just out of reach, love, happiness, something to live for. They're all too far away. Maybe you understand what I'm saying or not, I am simply here to share, to help others. I'm also sharing as a way to vent, for selfish reasons because I too want someone to know, this is my last hope at opening up and exposing the skeletons in my closet. The confessions of my lost mind are enclosed, may you be able to watch me fade. Insanity is not an illness of the mind, but being too tired to care anymore. Sketched too thin across many plains, I'm too young to be this old.

Let me explain. I'm a teen, I have no clue whether I'm like everyone else or not, I know that some of my most basic desires are the same as every human. But can you really judge a man by his desires, because if so, I could possibly be considered simple and true. Now looking past my arrogance and reaching my point. Like I said, I'm here to share, possible help others who know what I'm talking about. Maybe even offer insight to other more fortunate people as to not judge others like me. Our continual frowns and independant stares aren't us looking for pity, but our way of filtering out the right people. I respect few, and those I respect must earn it. Now first off though I don't like stereotyping, I believe that I belong to a group of independant thinkers that people used to call "goth" now they reserve that term for those who dress dark, no matter how hypocritical it appears. Before I go into anymore depth of my thoughts, sometimes I might make random, fragmented entries, but please bear with me, taking the most condensed form of data from my gray matter and transferring into my limited language is not something I can claim expertise in. I better wanr you that though most everything written in this book may appear to be simple rants, they are my poor attempts to translate my thougths and emotions into words and ideas you can possibly understand. With that all out of the way, let me begin the tour of my hopeless attempts of writing. Insomnia leads to death, not physical death, but emotional. You spend every day wishing you could just die. Though what concerns you isn't the desire for death, but how little you feel. Nothing moves you, you want so bad to be able to feel something, even depression is better than nothing. A full night's sleep makes you feel alive, a glimmer of hope is detected and quickly diminished when you turn to alchohal to vent. The depressant leaves you shaky, feeling hysterical, you try steady yourself. Lights and color change. Whenever you move after the hysteria has passed, you begin to feel dead, sitting down, it takes all your willpower to move. Closing your eyes is tempting, but you have things to do.

Edited by Aphotic, 07 December 2004 - 05:31 PM.


My sig is short simple and sweet, very much unlike life.


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#6
Aphotic

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(the beginning of first post, [I still need to tie them together.])

I had spent the last hour traveling away from the past and my haunting memories in Waterwood. I was stumbling northwest when I came across a clearing, fell down, drunk, utterly depressed, and waited for the peace of death to claim me. I started to cry; even the cool, crisp late autumn air seemed not crisp and refreshing, but like yet another thing in this life out to spite me; it ate through my thin clothing, chilling me. The ground, hard and cold, was the only constant in my world of chaos; it would never change; it was just as strong and reassuring as it was the day it had formed. Climbing to my knees, I looked down into a puddle, many filled the clearing I had stumbled into; which appeared to be filled with mercury, reflecting the dull gray sky and my reflection. I began to study the face I had always been able to call my own. My eyes, red and puffy, glared back at me, my face as it had always been. My face could be expressive, but after what I had been through, I kept it blank, expressionless, only my dark hazel eyes revealed what I truly felt. They now openly displayed animosity. My clothes were reduced to rags; I was a mess; my only escape was the bottle now, which in itself was a trap to a premature death. Death seemed like as good an escape as any, but I still had some sense of hope, it was but a glimmer, but with enough intensity to pierce the gloom surrounding my soul. A sudden peal of thunder startled me, waking me from the depths of thought and back to my surroundings. I glanced towards the sky and saw the oncoming storm within those gathering gray clouds. Rising as close as I could to a standing position and managing a hunched stagger, I set off to find shelter for the night.

I awoke to my violent shivering; I could hear the cold rain softly falling at the cave entrance from where I lay. Realizing that lying on an ice-cold stone floor was not going to help anything; I tried to rise and slipped on a slick spot on the cave floor, landing face-first into the ground with a sickening crack. Crying out in pain, I watched the blood flowing freely from my nose and lip form a crimson trickle. After a few seconds of being entranced by the sight, I held my hand up to my face, plugging my nose, and waited for the bleeding to slow. After a couple of minutes, it was no longer necessary to block the flow. The wind made an eerie moaning noise at the mouth of the cave; the cold felt as if it had entered my body and was now manifesting itself there. I knew I needed to warm myself. Not wanting to risk pneumonia or hypothermia, I decided it best to not go out into the rain. I started looking through my stuff, my only possessions: my staff, the two daggers in my belt, a bottle of vodka, some hardtack, an extra shirt and pair of pants, and my most valuable item, my chain mail. It was cleverly sewed within a cloak. Though the cloak was like ice because of the metal within it, I decided it was best for protection against wind and cold once my body heat warmed it. Also grabbing the hardtack, I made a small meal of the remaining three pieces. Feeling better, I started slowly moving and stretching to get my blood moving. Once I felt well enough to get up and move about, I decided to perform the morning ritual I had not done in so long. It involved using slow controlled movements and a form of meditation. By clearing my mind, I was soon relaxed and warm. Leaning back against smooth cool cave wall, I began to think. My thoughts, despite how hard I tried, always circled back to what I had let myself become. I hated it when I entered one of my depressions like this; it seemed like a cycle, I couldn't avoid them, I would be happy and in control of myself, and just when life seemed to be on the right track, I would grow depressed. It usually varied in degrees, and this was one of the worst yet. They usually ended by now, but then again, having your face banged up, and freezing to death in an icy rain wouldn't improve anyone's mood. I remembered that caves further down usually have a more regular temperature year round, but I was not willing to venture any further into the darkness, I already had enough surrounding my life. Waiting can be a lonely and boring ordeal, so as to be expected, my mind began to wander, I thought about why the humans created us; only to then destroy themselves through war? I assume that mankind had created us in the hope of a better tomorrow. Deciding it best to not get too involved in the subject, I sat down with my back against the smooth rounded wall; I began to daydream about love, life, and being happy...

I have to say that though my day spent in the cave was boring and seemed horrible, there will always have been a worse day. Nothing could overcome the few days I had spent in captivity, four years ago... By noon, I had started to come out of my depression; I realized this when I started seeing beauty in the frozen wilderness, the rain had frozen over everything, giving it an unworldly glaze. Not so worried about the present, I began to wonder "What next?" Could I go back to Waterwood and wait out the winter in that ghost town? Or would I do the preferable and travel down to Kalena, and even, maybe find a job of some sorts. After all, I did need money and a place to stay. The best job for someone in my situation would be at an inn of some sorts, I would be given a small room probably, and with my pay, I would be ready to start traveling again next spring. A gust of wind entered the cave, coming through an opening where my cloak came up a little off the floor from my curled up leg. I repositioned myself to block the air. With a plan for the future, I actually looked forward to tomorrow. The light rain continued for the rest of the day as I took shelter from the elements in the cave. It was well after dark before the soft patter of rain stopped. It was even later that night before I fell asleep and had a strange dream...

"The First Dream"
I am in a small tavern of some sort, except I am not drinking like I normally would do in such a place; instead, I sat at the stool with my head in my hands waiting for someone. The room is heavily laden with smoke and the strange smells one encounters in such a place. The groggy air produces an interesting dimming effect on everything. Trying to think of who I could be waiting for, the only emotion or idea that can be associated with the person is happiness, a peaceful state of mind, and a name... "Kacir".
Then, suddenly, I am standing within the ranks of an army; I feel a tension that can only mean that there is a battle soon. I sit for a moment in the ranks, when suddenly my location changes again, I am curled up in a fetal position under a tree somewhere in the woods, it is raining; I was alone, hurt, and crying. The scenes cycled through my mind, faster and faster...

I woke with a start; predawn light reached me within the cave. Fifteen minutes later, the sun started to peep over the horizon. Though last night I had heard the rain stop, the precipitation had not; instead, there was a light snow falling. The world was ice, snow, and filled with a glare from the refracting light. I sighed aloud; my plans now seemed obsolete. I was struck by a sudden thought, mainly brought up by a hunger pain. “What was I going to do?� I didn’t have any food, and my body without energy would lose heat, and I would literally freeze to death. The other possibility was to travel out into the cold and hope that I found a place to recover and then continue my journey to Kalena. The travel plan held little hope, but staying in the cave provided assurance to a long and painful death. Though I really did not look forward to what lay ahead of me, I put on every article of clothing I had and put everything else I wouldn’t wear into my pack. Shouldering my pack and grasping my staff, I hesitated before I stepped out of the cave and into the frozen landscape. Climbing down from where the cave was situated in a rock face, I looked at the sky; it was mostly light gray clouds with specs of a brilliant blue peeking through. At the bottom of the rock face there was an open area before the woods. Crossing it slowly, I listened to the soft crunch of my feet on the snow. The woods looked tall, cold, and menacing. I paused for a moment to peer into their depths for the lack of underbrush and to glance at the rising sun to the east; I headed straight into the eerie woods and south to my fate.

The woodland terrain was rocky and filled with little perils easy to overlook; a few times I almost fell into a rocky crevice cleverly hidden by dips and rises in the land. Creeks and streams intertwined making the trek through my home, the woodlands, difficult. There was no wind, only the lifeless woods, and the strange silence that snowfall creates. After a few hours my cloak was still retaining my body heat quite nicely and my only complaint was the hunger I felt. Enjoying the journey, I started to softly give voice to a few poems; I made them up as I went.

“There is a beauty that I see,
As I look into the snow.
There is calmness within me,
Its source I wish to know.

As I taste the snow-filled air,
I feel as if I care…
What happens to me?�

Then, I started thinking in a more morbid manner…

“Light and dark, they grow blurred.
As I am lost in this shapeless cold.
Image distorted, figures unknown,
I am afraid…�

“Alcohol ridden; lost in hate,
I am unsure of my fate.�

A haiku…

“Frigid darkness; lost,
the snowflakes wander about,
and asunder, down.�

My sig is short simple and sweet, very much unlike life.


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#7
Aphotic

Aphotic

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Until I have a fixed a flowing version of all my fragmented ideas, I'll post what ideas I have written out.

After I tripped and fell, I didn't get back up. Sobs made me savagely jerk with every heavy intake of air. What was happening to me? I had never needed anyone, and now that I had not been alone for a few weeks, I was totally dependant. I tried to stop crying, but after a moment of holding my breath, I took in big shaky breaths, hurting my chest. I looked down at the blurred ground to find it spinning, I quickly shut my eyes and laid my head against, the soft mossy ground. My mind raced in circles, I was someone trying to understand something that hurt them and failing. Questions raced through my mind. I didn't understand how I could become so broken from having to be alone again after such a short reprieve. The trees rustled as the wind blew, passing a cloud in front of the sun. Eliminating the dancing specks of light caused from sunlight passing through the foilage above me. The shadows grew less defined. I laid there for some length of time, great or small, I know not, I only can tell you how long it felt, which was like an eternity. After a time I stopped crying, and my headlong dash through the woods combined with the energy sobbing took, I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and slept in a dreamless state.

My sig is short simple and sweet, very much unlike life.


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#8
Aphotic

Aphotic

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"No david, you can't!" Chelsea cried her face distorted into a red pain filled expression.. I smiled, I knew that they didn't really care, they would feel an emptiness after my death, but no emotional pain. I would not be missed, just an extra limb that's just been amputated. Though they might feel a little pain at first, their neglect will have sedated them suffeciently to prevent too much discomfort. They would wake up like war veterans with their limbs missing, reaching to itch a leg that's not there, scratch an arm that is non-existant. I would merely give them a slight sense of lose. I wanted death, it was my escape, escape from this life, this pain. I simply wanted to be free, unable to think, unable to suffer. A short burst of pain and it all would be over. Yet I had to ask myself why was I dying for them, when they had no comphrension of the things they desired. such as love, happiness, pleasure. They were searching in all the wrong places, I knew where such things were embodied, but I am and was unable to achieve and/or reach. I lept off the edge with a feeling of relief, it was all coming to an end. Goodbye.

My sig is short simple and sweet, very much unlike life.


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#9
Aphotic

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I stopped and looked back to see Kacir struggling up the path beind me. As if my face had voiced my thoughts Kacir paused and asked me. "Diego, what's wrong?" I looked at her swollen abdomen. "I know it's your burden; though I gave it to you. I just wish that I could help carry it, because it pains me to see you struggling so." I shifted my eyes to an insect crawling at my feet. "Look at me Diego." I rose my eyes to meet hers, "I don't regret anything, so you shouldn't either."
"I know but..." she cut me short, "But nothing, you can't stand to see me struggle, and I don't want your pity. So let's continue on our way." She roughly brushed past me, my gaze followed her for a moment before I shrugged and followed her up the rocky trail.

My sig is short simple and sweet, very much unlike life.


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