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04-29-24 12:47 AM |
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| Main - Writing - Random story? Random story! | New thread | New reply |
| roxahris |
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Level: 52 Posts: 413/568 EXP: 1072650 Next: 11190 Since: 02-19-07 From: Here? Last post: 3926 days Last view: 3889 days |
I've decided to write a story. I was planning on making it funny... but then I decided not to. Have fun! It's only started...
This person walked alone. He was, typically, not very special. He, in a generic manner, had black hair. He wore a generic black jacket. His clothes were nondescript and bland. His eyes were the most spectacular shade of brown. Indeed, he was the sort of person that no descriptions were needed about. He walked along in his typical generic boots, not caring about anyone and anything. He was thinking about something. He had been thinking of this for the past few days, and it was probably about how generic his life was. Indeed, he felt as though his days were endless, each one almost the same as the last. Like the puppet of an unimaginative puppetmaster, he lived his life slowly. He dreaded the morning. He would wake up and find the world had nothing new to offer him. He would go to work and find there was still nothing new. He would go home and... well, you get the picture. Nevertheless, he trudged on in his life. Until one day, a car hit him and he died. And so our story begins. This man was only the beginning of our story. But what I haven't told you... despite how generic and boring his life may have seemed, he was actually involved in a conspiracy. A strange conspiracy... There was an odd thing about this man's death. There was just something that was hard to out a finger on. A journalist, one day, took a strange interest in the story of the man who died. There was no true reason why; the journalist couldn't explain it. They just felt the need to investigate this matter. Perhaps it was because the story had attracted more attention that it should have. Indeed, the man's death was front page news. As the journalist sat in the small, enclosed, coffee shop, they ordered a coffee and took out the newspaper. Despite the death having only occurred a week ago, due to a printing error, the newspaper was labeled as being from ten years ago. The article, for something on the front page, was remarkably short...
So, why was this on the front page of the paper? Not just one one paper; on EVERY paper. Every newspaper, from the Times to the Herald Sun, featured the same photograph of a man in a black jacket, lying face down in a pool of blood. Even the text was the same... As the journalist finished their cup of coffee, they packed up the newspaper, and left, headed for the local archives... Hopefully, this sounds good. If not, please give me suggestions! And now, for the "teaser text"! What mysteries await our unnamed, unspecified reporter? Who is this mysterious man? Why was his death so significant? Mystery, action, suspense, and excitement await you! ...hopefully. ____________________ Love your lawn. |
| Kawa |
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 CHIKKN NI A BAAZZKIT!!! 80's Cheerilee is best pony Level: 138 Posts: 1461/5344 EXP: 30951226 Next: 711755 Since: 02-20-07 From: The Netherlands Last post: 4501 days Last view: 2636 days |
Smells of Douglas Adams.
That's actually a pretty good thing in my book, pun intended. ____________________ Wife make lunch - Shampoo Opera - give it a spin Spare some of your free time? <GreyMaria> I walked around the Lake so many goddamn times that my sex drive was brutally murdered Kawa rocks  — byuu |
| roxahris |
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Level: 52 Posts: 414/568 EXP: 1072650 Next: 11190 Since: 02-19-07 From: Here? Last post: 3926 days Last view: 3889 days |
Here we go again...
The journalist stared at the small building on the side of the somewhat deserted street... the archives. In the distance, the sound of several dogs barking could be heard... perhaps a fight was happening in one of the side streets... Shaking their head, the journalist entered the building. Beyond the front door was the reception area. A deserted reception desk, with a bell on top, was the only real thing of interest in the room. Slowly closing the front door, the journalist decided to take a look around. The walls were covered with a rather flimsy looking wallpaper. The room seemed to be little used; almost everything was covered with a layer of dust. The front door was rather old-fashioned, and the dust on it seemed to be spread much less than the dust on the walls. There were two doors at the back of the room, one of which would probably lead into the archives. The journalist rang the bell, which seemed to be the only thing in the room that didn't have a layer of dust on it. An elderly woman came before the bell had even stopped ringing, moving with surprising speed from the door beside the desk. "Hello, there. Are you here to use the archives?" The journalist nodded, and the person went and unlocked the other door. Inside, the room looked like an out-of-place remainder of the old century. The room was filled with filing cabinets, each packed with newspapers, magazines, and other things. In the centre of the room were a few bookcases... and a man in an oversized trenchcoat. "Hey... what are you doing here?" he said, as the journalist closed the door. Turning around, he saw the journalist. "Oh, it's you. I need your help... and if you help me, I'll help you. But first... how're you going? Has your amnesia cleared yet?" The journalist did, indeed, have amnesia. A few years ago, the journalist had been the victim of a mysterious accident. The accident, however, had been covered up by the government. Nobody knew why. The journalist spent a year in a coma, but were revived thanks to a new technique that was in practice at that hospital. Unfortunately, they later found out that the journalist had severe amnesia. They couldn't remember anything... not even their name. This suited the government fine. The journalist became one of the many government-supported residents of the city; they received a house to live in, and were given a place to work at. The journalist wasn't really a journalist; they just went around, gathering information. But they still worked as a writer, writing articles for newspapers and magazines, so they just called the journalist a... journalist. "No, I can't remember anything." "Nothing at all? Not even your name?" "Nothing." In all the time the journalist had been without their memory, they had never been given a name. Perhaps they thought they would remember it eventually. Or perhaps they thought it was better that way. But it had been a few years now, and the journalist still couldn't remember their name. A person living without a name would have once been impossible. But society had changed. No questions were asked anymore, and identification was optional. It was possible for a person to be completely anonymous... to live without any identification, or record of their existence anywhere. "Well... some people have asked me to investigate things that are kinda... hard to believe... First, people have reported sightings of strange creatures during the daytime. Some people describe them as demons. However, all the people I've asked about it have told me that the rumour says they only appear when they want to. So that seems like it will lead nowhere. The next one is even stranger. People have said they have been seeing strange, metallic, creatures roaming the streets at night. The strange thing is... whenever they're reported , the sightings are usually denied the next day! However, people are scared. Unfortunately, nobody seems crazy enough to believe these stories... the only reason I'm looking into it is because they told me I'm the only person left who will believe them. I don't really believe them, but I am curious..." So, who was this person? Unlike the journalist, they knew who exactly they were. He technically worked as a journalist, but he usually went and found out information for people. Some people just called him a detective. "You want me to help you with them, then? I will, but only if you help me with this thing here..." "What are you investigating?" "I was reading the newspaper... did you hear about the guy that died?" "I don't read the newspaper... and, to be honest, you're the only person I know that does." "Look at this..." The journalist pulled out the newspaper and showed the "detective". Then, the journalist pulled out another newspaper. And another. Until ten different newspapers, each with the same heading, were on the desk in front of the "detective". "Okay... that IS weird." Suddenly, they both heard a scream. Hopefully, this came out good too! If not, I'm still looking for suggestions. And now, for the teaser text! Why does the journalist know this man? Where could this be going? Who IS the journalist, anyway? What was that scream just then? What are the government up to? What's up with the man that got killed? Mystery, action, suspense, and excitement await you! ...hopefully. ____________________ Love your lawn. |
| RT-55J |
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Armor Guardian Level: 81 Posts: 883/1562 EXP: 4890205 Next: 102644 Since: 02-23-07 From: Wild Side Arcade Last post: 316 days Last view: 57 days |
Why are you using "they" to refer to the journalist? Are you trying to hide the journalist's gender in order to surprise us later by revealing that the said journalist is actually female (or worse, multiple people)? Regardless of the real reason you're doing it, I must say that it only makes the story harder to read. This passage is the most egregious example of how it only hinders your writing:
I don't think those sentences need any real explanation. In any case, the story looks quite interesting despite the rough edges around the writing. I'm looking forward to more. |
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