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t a s t e
Sep 6, 2010


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If there's still room.

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t a s t e
Sep 6, 2010


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I'm not sure what to write, thread.

1) YA hunger-games knockoff

2) Mrs. Dalloway but with kaiju

3) fanfiction for something I've never seen

t a s t e
Sep 6, 2010


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EccoRaven posted:

I am writing about a woman in the near future who is listless and anxious but soon finds her life gets flipped turned upside down and I'd like to take a minute just sit right back and hear a tale a tale of a fateful trip that started with the big bang (hey!).


Tremendous Taste posted:

2) Mrs. Dalloway but with kaiju

t a s t e
Sep 6, 2010


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I mean I wouldn't say no

t a s t e
Sep 6, 2010


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I've been unexpectedly called on for a lot of overtime. My submission will be short, but I promise I'll make up for it.

t a s t e
Sep 6, 2010


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The Reverend stared into the cracked mirror resting on the table. Having served its usual purpose for a great many years, the mirror now sat transubstantiated in its own right.

Minutes passed, and still the Reverend sat, only looking up from his own broken reflection to glance momentarily at the door to his office, left slightly ajar. He had been expecting a visitor, which was not unusual for such a Monday afternoon. The lateness, however, proved somewhat less typical. Nobody dared disrespect the Reverend like that. He would, however, look past this venial transgression in this instance. As much as he would never admit it to anyone, much less himself, he waited on a young man who held some considerable importance in the Reverend’s life.

The Reverend began to run his fingers idly over the plane. As his digits neared the crack, he caressed the jagged edges with such delicacy that if there were any puncture, it would not show. He realized a small shard had broken loose as to become removable, and began to pry as his visitor pushed open the door with some hesitancy. Looking up at once, the Reverend started and involuntarily clutched the shard too tightly. He began to bleed.

“Oh, Martin. Please, close the door behind you.” The boy did, and with a sheepish look toward the Reverend began a clearly rehearsed apology.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I should have ran here.” Martin’s face was composed in what the Reverend could recognize as a veneer of false sincerity. For a moment, he looked to the mirror, thinking of the countless times he’d been able to study that same falseness in his own features.

“No, no, Martin. If you’re late, I’m sure you had a good reason. But I’ve actually had to postpone other appointments, so I don’t have time to speak. If you could just…” The way the Reverend found himself trailing off left him disgusted. Such an indecisive tone was beneath him, even if it was prudent in this case.

“Ah. Yes. Yes, absolutely.” Martin reached into his backpack and pulled out a small vial. He set it on the Reverend’s desk, next to the mirror. He gestured toward the Reverend’s withdrawn fist. “Sir, you’re bleeding. Is everything all right?”

“Oh, Martin, I’ll be fine. Run along, now.”

Clearly happy to have been given the excuse, the boy turned and sped out the door. Fortunately for all parties, the door swung shut. The Reverend released the shard of glass and looked at his palm. It wasn’t shredded, though the cuts were significant enough to justify attention. The vial, however, took precedence.

It was innocuous enough. The glass had been stained black in order to afford some sense of privacy as to its contents, but the Reverend, of course, knew exactly what lay within.
He poured out the entirety onto the broken mirror. It obscured his face, as though his eyes and nose had simply melted into white. The Reverend considered rooting through his desk for the straw he knew was there, buried under a mess of papers and office supplies, but in a moment of inspiration settled on another method. Raising again the shard with his bleeding hand, he began to cut with precision matching wounds on each of his wrists. Showing little sign of the monumental pain he felt with every passing moment, the Reverend took a moment to exhale.

Suddenly, in a furor, the terrible, awesome man slammed his wrists onto the mirror, and into the pile of the powder resting there. He began to slowly rub his wounds over the vial’s contents in a circular pattern, mumbling to himself first in a barely audible tone. As the cocaine started to enter his bloodstream, and the Reverend began to feel the rush, his whispers graduated rapidly into a great shout.

“I AM THE VOICE OF GOD! I AM THE VOICE OF GOD! HEAR ME NOW, I HAVE COME TO CLEANSE THEE!”

t a s t e
Sep 6, 2010


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Mine is probably worse than theirs but in my defense they aren't my characters

t a s t e
Sep 6, 2010


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New York trilogy is great good choices

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t a s t e
Sep 6, 2010


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I've got to take my leave. I haven't been able to put anything together and this game and you all deserve better than that. Please vote me out.

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