PLEASE COMMENT!!
P.S. I have officially dubbed this story serial 'House Divided'.
Here 'tis...
Michael P. Rhalington mopped his sweaty brow. Having been an engineer since his youth, he was used to such work. Starting only with his father’s small tune-up shop, he had expanded the family owned business into a major leader in robotics. The pay was good. The work was good. Life was good. However, that all ended three weeks ago. He had received a call from a man calling himself Emerson. The man’s dark rhetoric and subtle threats greatly disturbed him. The mysterious caller had also offered a huge sum for, what he called, a “simple service”. He wanted research and steps made on neural guided mechanics, a dead end in the field, impractical compared to the advanced AI programs being used today. However, Michael had swallowed his doubts, and agreed to ‘Mr. E’s’ demands. But he rapidly began to regret his decision. Things just weren’t quite right. He had been put into contact with a certain Doctor Keltz, who had directed him in his endeavors and provided him with materials. However, it rapidly became clear that they were obtained through the extensive black market of Terras. Now he found himself neck deep in crime and subterfuge. Thankfully, a recent breakthrough had lightened Rhalington’s mood. Emerson would certainly be pleased with this advancement. He had sent the holograph to him. He just hoped it didn’t fall into the wrong hands…
Monday, April 26, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
The Appetizer:
Okay, now don't get your hopes up, this project is curruntly just a brain-child of mine. Unlike Deluge, I have no idea where I'm going with this (well, maybe a little). So here, my friends, is the intro to a book possibly named 'Paradise Lost', or 'Democracy's Demise' or even, 'A House Divided'.
So enjoy, and please comment!
It is a day like any other. At least, to the untrained eye. Better that way. The normal buzz of traffic, the blur of flashing lights, and the flash of the sun glinting off of the chrome vehicles of the countless commuters are all the same. The water laden air is the same. The massive office complexes still loom over the bustling roads. But the world will never be the same. There is only one more hurtle to jump, one last obstacle to overcome. Now, where is that-
As if on cue, the young secretary nervously slipped through the door, addressing the tall figure gazing out at the city skyline. “Ehem, er, Mister Emerson, sir?”
Without even turning, Emerson replied, “I presume you have a letter for me? I’ve been expecting one.”
Unnerved further by Emerson’s soft, rich voice, the messenger stuttered, “Uhm, y-yes sir, h-here’s the holograph, sir…”
Slipping a hand from his deep suit-coat pocket, Emerson accepted the small orb from the secretary, never removing his gaze from the wall-to-wall window. A beam of light projected from the non-descript sphere, forming a series of words on the glass.
As Emerson read the notice, the secretary behind him nervously edged toward the door. The tall man had always frightened him. Suddenly, the suit-clad figure whirled on him, a Chesterton-7 laser pistol in his hands, his crow-like features darkened with sudden purpose. A muted ring of laserfire, and the youth was a mere heap on the dark carpet.
“My apologies, young sir. But you’ve witnessed one to many things. I can’t have this little secret getting out too early, now can I? But take heart, you die for a greater good.”
Pocketing the weapon, he stepped over the body, closing the Vaultech doors behind him. President Corin would be expecting him.
Does this Emerson guy creap you out too? Hopefully
So enjoy, and please comment!
It is a day like any other. At least, to the untrained eye. Better that way. The normal buzz of traffic, the blur of flashing lights, and the flash of the sun glinting off of the chrome vehicles of the countless commuters are all the same. The water laden air is the same. The massive office complexes still loom over the bustling roads. But the world will never be the same. There is only one more hurtle to jump, one last obstacle to overcome. Now, where is that-
As if on cue, the young secretary nervously slipped through the door, addressing the tall figure gazing out at the city skyline. “Ehem, er, Mister Emerson, sir?”
Without even turning, Emerson replied, “I presume you have a letter for me? I’ve been expecting one.”
Unnerved further by Emerson’s soft, rich voice, the messenger stuttered, “Uhm, y-yes sir, h-here’s the holograph, sir…”
Slipping a hand from his deep suit-coat pocket, Emerson accepted the small orb from the secretary, never removing his gaze from the wall-to-wall window. A beam of light projected from the non-descript sphere, forming a series of words on the glass.
As Emerson read the notice, the secretary behind him nervously edged toward the door. The tall man had always frightened him. Suddenly, the suit-clad figure whirled on him, a Chesterton-7 laser pistol in his hands, his crow-like features darkened with sudden purpose. A muted ring of laserfire, and the youth was a mere heap on the dark carpet.
“My apologies, young sir. But you’ve witnessed one to many things. I can’t have this little secret getting out too early, now can I? But take heart, you die for a greater good.”
Pocketing the weapon, he stepped over the body, closing the Vaultech doors behind him. President Corin would be expecting him.
Does this Emerson guy creap you out too? Hopefully
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
I don't shine shoes no more, Billy...
...I, in fact, write short stories!
So heres a hurray for those Monday mornings we all know n love!
Without further ado, I give you "Rise N' Shine"...
"Ok, so its Monday morning. And I’m using the definition loosely. It’s dark outside, cold as heck, and the rooster’s still out cold. Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against Mondays. It’s the mornings that irk me. So anyway, there I am, sawing logs, just minding my own business. A nudge on the shoulder and a feeling of dread greet me as I wake. Though now conscious, the hatches of my eyelids are firmly nailed closed. I stumble out of my bed like a ship with a schizophrenic at the tiller, nearly running aground several times as I stagger about on my two left feet. After narrowly navigating through the doorway, I flop down the stairs, leaving my heart, mind, and many other vital internal organs under the covers.
Having miraculously survived the trip downstairs, I slog toward the table, feeling a bit like a cinderblock. Probably as agile as one, too. Come to think of it, both currently lack internal organs… As I ponder the alarming similarities, my dad pushes some breakfast in front of me. A piece of toast, with a drop of milk to drink. Oh, before you can fully appreciate my breakfast experience, you need to realize something. When I say a drop, I mean it literally. Don’t get me wrong: my dad’s awesome. But when it comes to hydration, well… The amount of liquid he gets by on would leave a cactus with a dry throat. A camel would be choking. The cup is absolutely microscopic: I mean, I’ve seen heftier shot glasses! But anyway, moving along…
So, due to the culinary drought, I leave the table with a mouth plastered wall to wall with peanut butter. I mean, I had some true interior-decorating going on: shelves, roofing, and maybe even some carpet going in. Impressed but choking, I scale the stairs (not without mishap) and stagger into the bathroom. Prying my sticky jaws open and mentally noting to keep a crowbar by the sink, I thoroughly saturate my mouth, rinse, and repeat. Then, loading down my toothbrush, I scrub away, thankful that my taste buds are not yet fully connected to my brain, preventing me from tasting the scrumptious blend of peanut butter and mint.
Offering up a prayer of thanks after again safely traversing the stairs, I gather my school stuff. Wincing as I sling the overloaded backpack over my shoulder (nearly ripping it out of the socket in the process), I head out of the house and collapse into the idling car.
Having been on the road several minutes now, the sun rises. In our eyes, that is. But hey, it was still beautiful. By this time, the fog in my mind is starting to clear. With I smile I recall a certain quote:"
“On Monday mornings I am dedicated to the proposition that all men are created jerks.”
H. Allen Smith
P.S “If you can only keep one thing with you on Monday mornings, let it be your sarcasm.”
ThinAir
DISCLAIMER: None of these facts are false, but few are exactly accurate…
So heres a hurray for those Monday mornings we all know n love!
Without further ado, I give you "Rise N' Shine"...
"Ok, so its Monday morning. And I’m using the definition loosely. It’s dark outside, cold as heck, and the rooster’s still out cold. Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against Mondays. It’s the mornings that irk me. So anyway, there I am, sawing logs, just minding my own business. A nudge on the shoulder and a feeling of dread greet me as I wake. Though now conscious, the hatches of my eyelids are firmly nailed closed. I stumble out of my bed like a ship with a schizophrenic at the tiller, nearly running aground several times as I stagger about on my two left feet. After narrowly navigating through the doorway, I flop down the stairs, leaving my heart, mind, and many other vital internal organs under the covers.
Having miraculously survived the trip downstairs, I slog toward the table, feeling a bit like a cinderblock. Probably as agile as one, too. Come to think of it, both currently lack internal organs… As I ponder the alarming similarities, my dad pushes some breakfast in front of me. A piece of toast, with a drop of milk to drink. Oh, before you can fully appreciate my breakfast experience, you need to realize something. When I say a drop, I mean it literally. Don’t get me wrong: my dad’s awesome. But when it comes to hydration, well… The amount of liquid he gets by on would leave a cactus with a dry throat. A camel would be choking. The cup is absolutely microscopic: I mean, I’ve seen heftier shot glasses! But anyway, moving along…
So, due to the culinary drought, I leave the table with a mouth plastered wall to wall with peanut butter. I mean, I had some true interior-decorating going on: shelves, roofing, and maybe even some carpet going in. Impressed but choking, I scale the stairs (not without mishap) and stagger into the bathroom. Prying my sticky jaws open and mentally noting to keep a crowbar by the sink, I thoroughly saturate my mouth, rinse, and repeat. Then, loading down my toothbrush, I scrub away, thankful that my taste buds are not yet fully connected to my brain, preventing me from tasting the scrumptious blend of peanut butter and mint.
Offering up a prayer of thanks after again safely traversing the stairs, I gather my school stuff. Wincing as I sling the overloaded backpack over my shoulder (nearly ripping it out of the socket in the process), I head out of the house and collapse into the idling car.
Having been on the road several minutes now, the sun rises. In our eyes, that is. But hey, it was still beautiful. By this time, the fog in my mind is starting to clear. With I smile I recall a certain quote:"
“On Monday mornings I am dedicated to the proposition that all men are created jerks.”
H. Allen Smith
P.S “If you can only keep one thing with you on Monday mornings, let it be your sarcasm.”
ThinAir
DISCLAIMER: None of these facts are false, but few are exactly accurate…
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Colony- flash gaming at its finest...
Heres the link, mateys!
http://armorgames.com/play/4264/colony
Have fun, and, oh...
Look out for players named:
ThinAir
Holy3xIsHe
UxPhoob
UzPhoob
TheCreed
rhino726
Tell em you found this through writers blog!
enjoy mates ;)
(Props to Krin at Krinlabs for making this game!)
http://armorgames.com/play/4264/colony
Have fun, and, oh...
Look out for players named:
ThinAir
Holy3xIsHe
UxPhoob
UzPhoob
TheCreed
rhino726
Tell em you found this through writers blog!
enjoy mates ;)
(Props to Krin at Krinlabs for making this game!)
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