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TheGreekOwl
Mar 1, 2014

THUNDERDOME LOSER

Greetings and Happy 2018

I shall be short. I am in the middle of an interactive project. I seek brutal critique.

The formal background of where the text comes from will not be of interest right now. The medium I am conducting this on is both optical and textual. Seeing as this can cause some problems, as well as muddy up what I'm looking for, I have gone through and isolated the text from the visual, which I will provide beneath every image post.

The following issues will be of my requested focus. That of the text by itself, stripped of its visuals. Does it make sense; Does it succeed for the atmosphere you think its trying to achieve; Would you read this to the end; And in terms of visuals, are the pictures readable and captivating enough to enhance the text;

Any and all comments appreciated~

(Erotic content will be put on imgur/pastebin and marked as NSFW)



quote:

THE SIXTH BUILDING

It had been said, back before the world had gotten into the mess that it was, that the sixth building, the only one remaining in that area, was once a hospital, specializing in mentally ill patients, that was abandoned at the beginning of the world war. Other said it was simply another horrid building from the post-war era, a shanty box to put dissidents in. Either way, what was now a crumbling rundown structure, soon to join its five other friends, had beyond its years ordeals which hid from the foliage outside to the walls that were once painted teal, to the pained feeling these doors gave when opened.

There was but one ordeal that was dinstinct. The structure had been build on something seperate from it. You entered looking for it among the dusted glass and rusted remains of objects, the reflected moonlight showing the semblance of the miserable sight around you. It was november, and the cold was digging to your bones, the melancholy of the weather just part of the short days at the end of spring. The wind came at midnight, whistling a heavier weight on to you, one that you were prepared for, yet also on degree, wanting for.

The truth was that the building had no basement. You were justified in that belief as you descended the curled gazed space around you, more pearly now, signs of an older age. There wasn't even a scent to it, unlike the slayed floor above. You were surprised to find down there elevators, unlike any you had ever seen or even fit the place, but not reluctant to open one. But you didn' have to do such thing. A blade of light appeared, light bathing through as one of the elevator doors, spread wide, soaking the wall and floor in front of you with a wash of other-worldly shine.

The silence which had now laid full separated this space from the world above, and left your empty self to think. This was where the real ended and the dream begun, the pill between two worlds, the end of the river that all of your old friends so diligently daydreamed about. Those that searched the darkest places and never came back again. You grew up, and you wondered what golden line they had crossed that took them away from you. But that was all old tears, from which not even the marks remained.



quote:

It's up to you. You've suspended your disbelief, the only companion to take your out of this, you breathed with a certain calm, the wheel spinning inside your head, and for now, thinking with endurant patience. The spring was ending after all, and the day was silently coming to its end. Only the present remained.

You pull out the radio from one of your pockets, eyes gazing down the plane of light. The long piercing scream of static ended the silent awareness of the present. What were you expecting anyways, to order pizza this deep underground, or worse, happen upon military comms. There was nobody to call anyways. If there was, you'd be thrifting away with them.

The light fell obliquely down your face. You were a midnight transpasser, about to go into the dream. Where did this supersition of psychological monsters come from? A day ago? A month? Forever? You barely knew. Maybe an answer was down there, maybe what was needed was a purge. You sat in silence for a few moments and you laughed to yourself. What evidence was there; that the elimination of superstition will inevitably lead to happiness? That the ignorance of your own nature is the source of all problems?

Perhaps... one should not be in search of monsters to kill after all.

You took your first steps, and you recalled a hazy image in your head, forming by itself into another body. You saw that image then clearly. Yourself. And all you had to do is think of your name, "My name..." you think

But names are for mortals. Now you enter the immortal life.

The time came. You provoked yourself, as you took the first steps and passed through the soft cloud of brilliance in front of you, eyes closed, and disappeared into the deep white.



quote:

An empty space appears before you. You’re inside the elevator. A whimper came out of you, immobile you glance around. There are no controls on this thing, and the immaculate state of it reminds you of quieter times.

You try to pass the time without time passing you. An irritation forms in your throat. You cough. On the chambers above there was a lot of dust. No worries. You’ll just have to do jolly sick.

You check your radio again. An eternity of static met your ears, again, a few words came out, punctuated by the compeer of momentarily silence “Begin… Greetings… Hera-Alpha, copy?...”

Despite your donkeysish insistence, neither the radio, neither the elevator retort

You spread your gaze around, eyeing the elevator, gaping at its opulence. Such material was of rare character, it shines and reflects, the peachy color making you wince with memories of Mediterranean adventures. But there was no hidden seal, no broad sneak in its surface. The drat thing was perfectly flawless.

You pinched your eyes. There was something off with the shine, it bloomed like a floret mound in the spring, it didn’t strain your eyes like that rotten light in similar buildings of this age. There was something off here, a felt ditch, but and unseen one.

You spared another moment, closing your eyes, other senses taking control where your vision failed. Water droplets seeping through decollated cracks in the distance were the only thing hinted, aptly able to be heard barely above your own heartbeat. Not even the wind could riddle its way around here. The silence was almost savage in nature. Uncommonly uncomfortable, you let your imagination run to calm you down. Fern green creatures you saw, unusually curvy. Too much Ovid, you thought, as you opened your eyes and returned to more important matters.

Controls. Control. How silly it was that you thought that was. So many things were beyond that, your dreams, your nightmares. Others waste their life searching to gain control over their wasted time. The issue to you hadn’t been trying to find, whether you had it or not. The issue was to manage to live despite of it.

You peeked outside. Still the same unearthly silence, the pale long hallway gazed back at you. An unusual scent was barely detectable, the bare hints of moisture in the process of seeping in, bringing in the bacterial mash of the world above. “Must have started raining” you induce.



quote:

You raised your head. The soft light was satisfying to look at, even if the feeling of intimacy were not reciprocated. You pulled out your multi-tool, arms raised. Too far away to reach. You took a breath. There were numerous objects you could use as a platform. You thought you saw some stool or half steady wooden ladder above, maybe something else to try and reach it. Or maybe you could think of something else...

You sat carefully tend to an idea. You’d be chump if you went all the way upstairs and got the ladder if the lesson was that this had been an old elevator light. You twitched a bit, then headed outside and picked up a fetid scrap of molding concrete from the hallway, Stalling your gaze at it, you arms shivering as they prepare their aim. You threw, the rock flew upwards the light, devoured by it but not coming back.

A short time passes, before you induced that the concrete had gone towards lands unseen.

The short suspense left you hushed. There was a chink in the marble here so to speak, something was amiss here. You tried not to think about it too hard as you went and found a ladder from above. Could you have asked the elevator politely, instead of snouting around it; Maybe snack a bit and rest your body for the night?

Nah, that’d be obscene, now that you tried to throw a rock at it as well. The elevator would be justified in thinking that you’d attempted assault.

You set up the ladder, its wooden frame shown it was made by master hands despite its worn state. Shame it was left here for the wind to poo poo dust on it. Who knew, maybe he’d make a good pal back home if this whole thing end up being a stale cake.



quote:

Your head remained upwards, a discussion erupted inside your mind about crossing over it. The light above gleamed above you, yet underground. Would phosphorescence finally illuminate your thoughts?

The steps were few, and you slowly ascended them. You hesitated as you reached and grabbed the edge of the opening, quite thick and scaleable. You suspended your imagination, not wanting to dream of more demons than hell could hold dragging you over to the darkside. You’d kick their rear end anyways if they tried anyways.

There was only melodic silence. Nothing touched your hand, save for that hint of cool that came by from moment occasionally. Tempted you pushed your head, your head peeking through the hole, keeping at it hands steady. It was an elevator vent, a deep colored blackness expanding upward, greasy thick rope run parallel to it, along with a sturdy looking wire that held a plate light, the sourced that soaked the place vividly. The elevator car itself was in pristine condition, a serene contrast to the building it held it in, even though you couldn’t eye what was around its edges. You’d have to climb up there to see…

You got up through the hole and stood up careful of your step. Between the gentle light and the fragile chill, a bitter tastelessness hovered over your mouth at the impiety of the situation. You still held your head high though, nothing lost but time. Funny then, that it takes more effort to waste time then to use it effectively. Not that you’d gain anything material here. Instead of a dumpster, you found a dump. Nothing here beyond faint concrete dust, probably asphalt from the walls, and the elevator was pretty compact, so no plying pieces off.. You’d be upset if your only way up had been two sturdy hands and daydreams of scaling up greasy wire. Thankfully you found an emergency ladder, the faint scarlet bloom shined off glimt in the darkness as if looking against the early dawn time through a window.



quote:

A slight twitch ambushed your body. Something had been bothering you, and you’d been sure it wasn’t your stomach yet. You looked around, and it became clear that the walls surrounded the elevator’s frame, to it its design, to you its confinement. There was no way down, a direction you hadn’t been sure had been your goal. What had been your goal anyways? To free yourself? Of what? Free of the earth, free of the people, free of yourself? Too many questions, distant as well, yet as inescapable as your body was to your own bowels.

You turned on your flashlight and attached it to one of your front straps for hands free use. With courage, you set your body upwards, climbing concrete and asphalt walls, the rust eaten ladder leaving mediocre tarnish on your hands. The flashlight guided your way, the forces of technology not able to brighten the world of the disenchanted. Step by step you ascended, until your eyes spotted something. Your focus triggered, you pointed the flashlight to the source. It had been a phrase, the long stank spray still a sunset in the midst of the gloomy corridor. “Fantasy abandoned by reason produces impossible monsters” it spelled. Whimish, you thought, as you continued upwards and left the stain adrift for the void to drown out.

You looked up, the gleaming pinpricks of light coming off flashlight the only way to sweep the darkness away. It had been strange how peaceful this whole place had been. You’d have expected blacker holes to get snapped into. Thankfully you reached the top, just as your arms begun to feel the tense muscleburn.

You peeked your head, upper body rested by the edge, hands squeezed, mocked by the burning sensation of climbing. You shut off the flashlight as you blanked out for a moment, visionless while left the unrestrain of your heavy breaths take over. As soon as you regained your self, you stared at the darkness in front of you. You paused for a few moments, eyes distill and get used to the darkness. The shape of things became evident. What looked like a mirror lay just across you. The walls too black, hard to be observed from this position. The distinct silhouette of a something jagged away from one side of the wall, too hard to make out. Yet one item had been enough to make you blink and bring a grin to your face.

In front of you laid a pillow, resting on its sod a piece of concrete not unlike the one you threw up the elevator gap. The grin betrayed your reaction, even if it had been to shield your apprehension. You knew what one had to do in order to oddly feel true distance.



quote:

You announce your presence, awaiting in fantasy what sort of creatures lurk behind the jagged. Only the fine particles in the air were moved by your introduction, their tears a bit dry for your taste. concrete shadows.. A little more than half a minute passes before you disperse with the daydreaming again.

What was more discerning was the nature of the pillow right here. Even in the uncaring darkness, it reflected the barest of light to be visible, like marble. The concrete piece you had thrown sat on top of it, a conceit far more weening in your mind that it would stain the fabric. Reverting to more pressing concern, you do have to wonder how the heck this thing managed to travel two dozen meters upwards to fall just perfectly in its shiny altar. It was almost as if, unlike the world above, that there were are bigger forces structuring the unordered with tranquility.

You greeted the light with a placid timidness. Light always made life’s worries easier, even if it made them more pressing. A moment ago, you had put aside logic to let your mind sing with fancy fantasies. They had been more sensuous than terrifying, unusual considering the gloomy darkness around you.

Your first target had been the pillow. It’d been a pearly delight, the ugly concrete piece above like a plastic cup among river pebbles. You approached it, leaned forward to see if it’s scentsy or of it stinks. A single whiff took you for a split second to far off harbors. It smelled like moonlight, if you had words to explain it. Still, this synthesis of untypical and typical had you confused. Obviously, an object as soft and silky as a pillow had been enough to stop a rock without emitting any noise. But what the heck had a pillow, one that had still not dropped its splendor decades ago, been doing here? You didn’t suppose it had been laid here half a century ago by the last technician to visit it.

Your light strobed like a searchlight, locked focus on anything of interest. Only bare concrete, moist one at worst. That had been besides the old scrappy and rusted size long steel extruding from the right wall.. Rebar it seemed, yet, it looked quite abnormally jagged. Not even up in the most desolate of cityscapes did you come across something like that, not anything that hadn’t the unfortunate experience of having a tank round hitchhike through it. What looked like half a dozen of nails also seemed to have been hammered through the wall, stitched in their place quite haphazardly. It all looked quite pathetic and it brought an unwanted weight to you.

TheGreekOwl fucked around with this message at Jan 3, 2018 around 04:48

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sebmojo
Oct 23, 2010



Legit Cyberpunk

quote:

It had been said, back before the world had gotten into the mess that it was, that the sixth building, the only one remaining in that area, was once a hospital, specializing in mentally ill patients, that was abandoned at the beginning of the world war. Other said it was simply another horrid building from the post-war era, a shanty box to put dissidents in. Either way, what was now a crumbling rundown structure, soon to join its five other friends, had beyond its years ordeals which hid from the foliage outside to the walls that were once painted teal, to the pained feeling these doors gave when opened.

There was but one ordeal that was dinstinct. The structure had been build on something seperate from it. You entered looking for it among the dusted glass and rusted remains of objects, the reflected moonlight showing the semblance of the miserable sight around you. It was november, and the cold was digging to your bones, the melancholy of the weather just part of the short days at the end of spring. The wind came at midnight, whistling a heavier weight on to you, one that you were prepared for, yet also on degree, wanting for.

The truth was that the building had no basement. You were justified in that belief as you descended the curled gazed space around you, more pearly now, signs of an older age. There wasn't even a scent to it, unlike the slayed floor above. You were surprised to find down there elevators, unlike any you had ever seen or even fit the place, but not reluctant to open one. But you didn' have to do such thing. A blade of light appeared, light bathing through as one of the elevator doors, spread wide, soaking the wall and floor in front of you with a wash of other-worldly shine.

The silence which had now laid full separated this space from the world above, and left your empty self to think. This was where the real ended and the dream begun, the pill between two worlds, the end of the river that all of your old friends so diligently daydreamed about. Those that searched the darkest places and never came back again. You grew up, and you wondered what golden line they had crossed that took them away from you. But that was all old tears, from which not even the marks remained.


Some said the sixth building, the only one remaining in that area, used to be an asylum and had been abandoned at the beginning of the world war. Other said it was another horrid building from after the war, a shanty box to put dissidents in. Either way, it was now a crumbling rundown structure, You entered looking for something among the dusted glass and rusted remains of objects, dim in the reflected moonlight. It was November, and the cold was digging into your bones, the melancholy of the weather just part of the short days at the end of spring. The whistling wind always came at midnight, whistling a heavier weight on to you, one that you were prepared for, yet also somehow wanting.

The building had no basement. There wasn't even a scent to it, unlike the ruined floor above. You were surprised to find elevators down there, unlike any you had ever seen. A blade of light appeared, light spilling from one of the elevators, spread wide, soaking the wall and floor in front of you with a wash of other-worldly shine.

This was where the real ended and the dream begun, the pill that bridged two worlds, the end of the river that your old friends daydreamed about. Those that searched the darkest places and never came back again. You had grown up, and wondered what golden line they had crossed that took them away from you. But that was all old tears, their tracks long ago dried.

TheGreekOwl
Mar 1, 2014

THUNDERDOME LOSER

Happy New Year for reals~

I'm compiling the rest of the text I've written before at the moment. This will be the first batch, as there are a few more that I cannot post today.



quote:

Quite the imaginative being you had been. You even entertained the thought of letting the repose of sleep take legs to your mind. Maybe sweeter worlds could be found there. It had a certain pull on you. What had been at first a lowly thought now seemed like a symbol, an effort that had to be worked for. But still, it would be a mortal mistake to go to sleep at such a place. Sweeter worlds, you thought. Sweeter, but unreal. But hadn’t germs been as unreal? Wasn’t the emergence of multi celled organisms, things beyond his senses, equally as a construct as his deepest fantasies? Isn’t the real what he had evolved to perceive? It didn’t matter. The respites he brought on by thought ate away at his focus.

You looked forward.

Twin corroded rebars extruded through the wall, as if having had sneezed through them. It would take everything you had in excess to take them out. That would include pain as well. Thankfully the nails next to the wall had been put there by sloppy hands. They had almost looked pullable.

The pillow had the power make a blind man find his light. Quite a pretty sight. Warm too, you mused. Like sleeping next to a smooth waterfall that thing would be had you decided to lay your head on it. But that’d by a one way ticket to uncertainty. You’d rather be conscious if you are to face uncertainty. There’d been no way you’d let that beauty to turn to sap and blackness down here, she’d be leaving with you once you dealt with this place. Maybe you could invent a plausible excuse for the MPs. Or even just bribe the pricks with it.

The mirror sat still, sickly as it had been stained. The rest of the space was too dark for you to gaze into. An echo of life almost attested itself through the dirty mirror, an image not unlike your own. It looked like it needed

Your fingers are strong, but not strong enough to pull them bare. Neatly you slid your multi-tool out of your pocket, sourly pulling the nails off the wall, leaving lonely clouds nailholes behind.

You keep your mind on the pillow of course, you'd be spending much time with it, after you rescued it from this dark deep place.

Instead your gaze turned to the mirror. The collected sot and dust must'd had years to brew on its surface, barely the hints of a human outline visible through it. You took a moment to check behind it, being met with the nimble plane of concrete, before you brought the mirror face to face. How quaint, that the symbol of reflection of beauty itself had endured such grief. Then again, to reflect hadn’t always been the most comfortable of things.

You pulled out a piece of bandage, having preferred not to spread your bare palms against such a callous surface. Even your sleeves were too conscious to muddy up. Having ditched any evoked thoughts of using the pillow for the job, you proceeded to clean the mirror with the spare bandage. A little bit of spit went a long way as you started to knead it with your hands. Silent moments pass before the deed is done.



quote:

You were now able to reflect on the mirror, and the mirror to reflect back to you. Seemed like quite a short-lived adventure to get here. You held your face staring at it, almost having felt a tight breeze skim through your face. Lips went dry, throat too. You took self-control and focused on your face. Still quite young, wrapped in this wall of flesh. Thankfully you’d stopped smoking cigs a long time ago. When they’d have to open you up, the meds wouldn’t need to cringe too hard. Either way, you were still fine display, even if that wasn’t your intention.

To reflect on something hadn’t always been the most comfortable thing. Broken surfaces did not reflect that well, even if they were still beautiful. Wouldn’t that explain your behavior? Why had you chosen to come down here? You hadn’t been some worthless hypocrite. You had been looking to cross the lines, not just find isolated points. To don the mask of anything without assuming your role would be just deceiving.
Your hand reached to your throat to caress it, another annoying streak of wind lacing your warm face, the glimmering from the light making terrifying shadows of your face. This had to mean something. Maybe the time for theoretical reflections was at due. A mirror, a pillow. To rest meant to sit back, to reflect. And within it on kept an alive an interplay. In the same way a mirror had been fragile, so had been what it reflected.

What had you come here to do.

It had been days since you breached the riddles.

It had been weeks since you had been let go of your duties.

It had been months since the last of your old friends disappeared across the line.

It had been years since you became aware of the first whispers of the place beyond the real.

But what had been eternal? What had been that even motivated you to search for this place? What explained your detachment? That hadn’t been answerable. Like an institution, it took decades to build, maybe never to perfect. To secure such a definite answer, that would be the end of your worries.

The pillow sat in your back. Maybe it had been the time, the time for self-introspection again. All the luck in the world cannot beat good introspection.

Your muscles twitch a bit, shoulders a bit stretched . What could you have done, besides this delicate humiliation of standing there like a fool?

You couldn’t remain indifferent, that hadn’t been how you got here. It had been exactly that mental indolence that had produced a world like that above. But it hadn’t been totally in your control, that you had to admit. Your mind had been active, and unlike the ignorant masses above, who had no pretense of searching for hidden unreal truths, you could not rest in the surrender of your will. You’ve entered a battle, a search to get rid of of this impulse, that one way or another, all of your old friend’s claimed would be won once you’d crossed the line.

Well, now you had been here, and drifting in your sight had been the suffocating image of yourself, staring at you at this dead end. You clenched your fist. Introspection would only make your thoughts drunk, but without the wine to accompany. There had to be a reason. How could there not been? Maybe a kick to the mirror? Maybe a seat by the pillow? Or would you have to go back above, rushing to any cliff down the rocks in search of it.

You saw your reflection blink, as you stood there facing. Lycurgus said once that long hair added beauty to a good face, and terror to an ugly one. But you had to admit, your locks of hair made you drip, as your hand went ready to punch.



quote:

A marble of sweat form on your forehead. And in that moment, you didn't regret a single step you take towards this.

There was a silence, of about a few moments. You blinked, but the human like reflection didn’t. Your eyes hadn’t been mistranslating, and this hadn’t been a momentary bout of lunacy. Your reflection had been anything but. Was it an imitation? Was it real? You gathered the courage to move, legs ready to kick, hands arching back, ready to act.

You lay in your place, seeing in the glimmer your likeness pick up its radio and bring it up to its ear, without fear, without judgement. A faint echo of static begun playing, coming from your own radio.

Your radio slid from its case, holy hands bringing it up to your ears. Had it finally been time? Had you finally been ready to give your health or your sanity? No, those had been patronizing detours. You had still been alive, this sacred body had been your gateway to reality. You gripped the radio, ready to transmit and receive the marks of the old timers.

Static streamed like a river. The image figure stood still. You hesitated, and sat still for several moments. The momentary silence cut through suddenly:

“WAR AFFRONTS NO SLEEP TO ANY SOUL. YOU ARE NOT HERE TO PRAY, YOU’RE HERE TO PASS THROUGH.” The voice’s intent got mixed between the static, utterly different from your own, a heavy deep vibration that dug dig into your bones. You couldn’t decipher if that had been a question or a statement, a minor suspense of agony hanging in the air. The mood had changed, almost metaphysically affecting the environment. You disregarded, and focused at what had been at matter.



quote:

Hands are raised, a brief momentary reluctance being only that, the mirror’s dirty surface touched, caressed, pressed into them. That hadn’t been it. An unconventional entrance you thought, a false conception of what had been at issue the image looked back to you.

The radio slid back up, once again ready to speak to this sweet-bitter creature. It had been unlikely that your radio could do a signal output, especially from underground. But you had abandoned any perverse notions of normal space. There hadn’t been any reason to hold back now.

"I want to pass through" you said, neither commanding, neither permissive.

There was a silence of several seconds.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME BODY;

YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING FOR. YOU ARE FREE. THE LIFE WHICH YOU LEAD CAN BE A PEACEFUL ONE. BUT WHAT YOU THINK IS UNREAL CAN BE MORE REAL THAN REALITY.

I CAN SHOW YOU. I WILL DUST THE YOUR BOOTS OF ALL THE WORLD’S DIRT, I WILL TELL YOU THE UGLINESS, BECAUSE THE TRUTH IS UGLY, AND THE REAL IS VERY SINCERE

DO YOU WANT ME TO TELL?

CAN YOU HEAR ME BODY;”

CAN YOU HEAR ME BODY;

I WILL TELL YOU

I WILL TELL YOU THE KNOWLEDGE

I WILL TELL YOU THE MADNESS

BEHOLD

https://i.imgur.com/VDzmNZz.mp4

quote:

Kaleidoscope visions dance through your eyes, strange incomprehensible pictures hang and crawl through a scarlet night. A burning sensation envelops you.

You feel like ash before you are reborn again.

“YOU SUPPOSED THAT I COULD SHOW YOU THE SACRED IMAGES THAT WOULD FULFILL YOU. BUT I AM NOT HERE TO THREAD ON YOUR WINGS. THIS TERRIBLE CONFUSION THAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOUR COMPANY IS ONLY YOURS TO DEAL.



quote:

CAN YOU HEAR ME BODY? CAN YOU HEAR THE VOICES OF REGRET? CAN YOU HEAR THE COWARD? CAN YOU HEAR YOURSELF?
AS LONG AS THERE ARE RIVERS THERE WILL ALWAYS BE BRIDGES. BUT BRIDGES ARE BUILT, THEY ARE KEPT MAINTAINED. OTHERWISE THEY RUST AND COLLAPSE.

ABOVE WHOLE ARMIES PASSED AND WENT, DAY BY DAY. HOW COULD YOU HAVE BEARED IT? HOW COULD YOU HAVE EVADED IT.

THE SMELL OF SMOKE HAS FILLED THE SKY. THE SEAS OF THE WORLD ARE FLOWING WITH BLOOD. YOU CAN ESCAPE THAT WORLD ANYMORE THEN YOU CAN ESCAPE YOUR OWN BOWELS.”



quote:

“YOU HAVE SEARCHED FOR THE LIGHT. I CAN ONLY POINT YOU TOWARDS IT. PRAY THAT YOU DO NOT FALL IN THE DARKNESS

SING SOFTLY, AND MAY WE MEET AGAIN”

Everything is silent, including yourself. You are left adrift in a sea of magenta, floating for minutes, years, millenias, and endless far horizon screeches into the depths of eternity, You shrug, you dream, you think. Pages of thought pass and go in splits, meaning abandons you and returns. In this fluid formless chaos every concept in your mind wanders away. You eyes gazed submerged in the infinite expanse, and you felt content eying it.

You think. A body, a mind. Both together.

You are.



quote:

Then you put back all the piece together. You were able to see, with perfect insight what had happened. Your life hadn’t changed in the slightest. Not your material life. But you mind had been blessed, even so lightly. On this beautiful night, you realized you had been playing this game wrong. You set your eyes forward, you could see.

And then thought to yourself “This is the nonsense that you almost got yourself killed for?”

You had changed, but only incrementally. The indolent self-referential musings in regards to unreality seemed childing now, the pseudo-schizophrenia just a cut tumor, a past event that is a stranger to you.

You looked forward. The mirror had returned to its pious nature, it’s only saying a reflection, a real one now. A few kicks and motions confirmed it. Had this been it? A figurative pill for the headache while your body did the rest? Everything had seemed possible before. Now… now you didn’t know what to do. That pressing tensions had gone. But there had still been something missing.

You gulped your throat, hand slipping around the concave of your jacket’s hood. What a frenzy had that been. You just had wished that the bittersweet ride, had given you a few more answer. WHo had that been? Yourself? The indulgences of the imaginative mind on a trip? Either way, at least the vibrating anxiety was gone, and you wouldn’t need to concern yourself with that battle. There had been bigger legends to live up to, bigger escapes that could restore our broken wholes. Maybe the answer was in philosophy. Maybe in Art. Or maybe one day you’d need to breath the air of the unreal once again. That’d be for later. A nice cup of hot tea is enough motivation now to carry your dirty laundry back home, unless the lifers actually become competent once in their sorry life and --

The sound of ripping metal interrupted you. You turned around in horror, instincts arching you back as the sound of violence against metal erupts from down the shaft. It’d been one with no restrain, something dominating breaking through like an avenging lion.

Your hurt pulsed, your dovish stance staying for a few moments before being shed, dignity regained as you let the stream of thought carry you. But that irresistible flood that usually carried you way like a tide was absent, not to be missed or gifted back. It’d been like you had a bulwark against it, your thoughts now waging directly, your perception clear. This had been the bullshit you had been fed all of your life. Thing’s aren’t what they seemed, an apple wasn’t an apple, it was just the world of appearing. Nonsense, You could now clearly see back, how directly you are linked to reality.

TheGreekOwl fucked around with this message at Jan 3, 2018 around 05:35

Ccs
Feb 25, 2011


I find this type difficult to read on the the images. Anyone else having this problem? I think it's the font.

Maybe try looking at http://www.blambot.com/ for a font that has a similar techno feel but is easier on the eyes?

Exmond
May 31, 2007


im doin it ma im writing

THUNDERDOME


Oh boy I'm normally out of my element when critting stories, I might as well be in outerspace critting words + pictures. But let's give it a shot.



First off, having pictures is like sweet rear end CHEAT MODE for stories. Heck yeah , now you can use adverbs since you have the picture there. He looked around ,scared. BOOM you can display what scared looks like in the picture.


Reading through your second image you have a weird tense issue. Decide if you are past tense or present tense, you flip flop between the two making the piece hard to read. You need to rewirte the second sentence of your second image. Way too many commas, way too many tense issues. Your prose is good, Im getting a sense of loneliness and enduring something from this image. Also seems we are getting a segue into weirdtown.



Third image now. Again with the tense issues. Nothing came out of him, it should of come out of him because it's present tense. PICK YOUR TENSE. In fact I would go over this third image with an editor. Donkeysish insistence? Neither the elevator, neither the radior(Should be neither the elevator or the radio). The third image I dislike. You try for prose, you don't really succeed and the story gets wooo psychodelic/Silent hill. You seem to be going for some surreal thing here. Also did the elevator move? Im confused at the end of the third image.



Fourth Image. Ouch, we got some major ESL stuff that I pointed out to you in IRC. Lot of badly translated sentences. So I think you are going for wonder and exploration in this image. You pull it off, but we trip over a couple bad sentences. The one Im pointing out here make sense, but are odd enough to make me pause.



You threw, the rock flew upwards the light, devoured by it but not coming back. (could be rewritten to be more concise)

The short suspense left you hushed. (replace suspense with moment?)

There was a chink in the marble here so to speak, something was amiss here. (You repeat yourself, so choose one or the other and get rid of the other part).


Im gonna pause there, but man these images are GREAT. The images look really well and serve your atmosphere and tone. Im getting what you are laying down, creepy elevator leading to some weird light in some apocalyptic thing. Your story though, is riddled with some tense issues.

Overall Im getting a sense of loneliness, exploration and ascension.

TheGreekOwl
Mar 1, 2014

THUNDERDOME LOSER

Ccs posted:

I find this type difficult to read on the the images. Anyone else having this problem? I think it's the font.

Maybe try looking at http://www.blambot.com/ for a font that has a similar techno feel but is easier on the eyes?

Greetings~

Of hello, I redid most of the images with a clearer, larger more readable font, as well as upping the resolution by 100px as well (all images are 800 by 1400 now)

I hope it is smooth.

With Regards

TheGreekOwl
Mar 1, 2014

THUNDERDOME LOSER

Final batch, ohey.

After this, I will be at the point of writing I was before I started the thread. I will now look back at my writing with the help of crits.



quote:

You picked up the pillow and rushed over the edge, your mind drawing with anticipation. You freezed, keeping it together as your eyes peered down. You had been sure that the elevator must have hit the ground like a chembomb, fearing it took the ladder with it.

You exhaled, a drop of sweat slipping down the shaft into the hellfire of a light below. The elevator had still been there, it’s lavaish light straining your eyes. You’d spend too much time in the darkness. You turned to face the mirror. You’d been glad that the light hadn’t died down. The recalled words of the mirror silently passed by your head. You’d never been into psychedelics, too many empty husks of former comrades destroyed by the artificial sunlight. But this had been unlike any drug you’d ever taken, or any pill you’ve ever swallowed. Why had it passed so quick, why had enlightenment come with no much sorrow.

Small thoughts for now. Trust no light without warmth, and skim by the darkness after you checked your back. You guess it had been time to go down.

The mirror stood, oblivious to your signing. There had been nothing more to miss here. The rebar would be its only company, until some other soul grinds himself up here.

Your muscle ached. Struggling you made yourself down the luminous light, cold bars a sadness burning your skin, worried thoughts doing the same to your nerves. With each step, your eyes got used to the sweet warmness, until finally you made it down.

Carefully you watch as if you had 14 eyes, throat shimmering, sitting, bitten lips. Nothing to be scared of, right? You had to break a few eggs to make an omelette, with no danger comes no delight. You just hoped you would find the omelette before you found the broken eggs.

Your head floated above the hole, your head casting a echoing shadow below. In the peach lighting beneath you, you met the elevator chamber that attracted you, only a mansize hole had been shredded right in the middle, from outside to inside it seemed.Had you rushed even with no fault of your own, you’d be taking a one way ticket to the honey pouch. Like a worm through an apple, whatever had come up must have given hell, sharpness that would make you pale if you touched them. Even as you wondered above and afar like a cloud, the eruption had been enough to produce an unease, the blood starting to flow a bit faster, ready to go down into the bloom and make a break for it. But the landscape outside had been marred with obstacles, and the city buses were kilometers away. This could be a bitter harvest, you thought.



quote:

You turned your head behind, doubting your actions. A few careless moves could bring you closer to the unknown. What had been left to see here exactly? You’d reach the star you had been searching for, and now it had been time to come down again, so to speak. It’d been a bit maddening, but you were never one to indulge in self-pity.

The glowing warmness blanketed your face once gain, hands gripped on the pillow. He’d do anything to go unconscious on this pillow, the way back home just occurred to be worrying. You gazed downwards, and just hoped that the sleep to come would not be of the permanent type.

But while plans are useless, planning is indispensable. One of the rusted nails made an excellent plan, pulled from your pocket, as you held it above the narrow bloom of the hole. You relaxed your grip and down it went, utterly at the mercy of gravity. Into the big dark void it went, your whole body still waiting, anticipating. But just like the rock, the nail was off vacating at the bottom of a distant elevator shaft, one who’s bottom must have been beyond hearing distance, if that.

Your actions so far obligated that you take responsibility for you all that you gained. You slipped your butt to the edge of the, dropping the pillow first, before you lowered your body down the hole. Thankfully you wouldn’t have to make the army lifers cry. You’d taken some care to refresh your body with the repose of exercise, and you’d been rewarded kindly. If they ever needed something to soak up bullets, you’d make an excellent first liner.

You crouched, legs arched as you hit the floor, orientation steady, extra conscious of the big gently caress-off hole in the elevator. Quite a dreamy sight. It took the words away to see such a synthesis of unknown violence. Only in the most gooked out buildings had you seen something like this.

You’d survived those ruins after all. This’d be the same if all went well, just another pass by, an interesting tale to tell back at the bars. The treasure had been found, if only it had been words in the mind than anything material.

But there had been something new in the air, something refine. That uneasiness had been more durable than you thought, more concrete than just a creation of your mind.The poetic words you impelled towards yourself had been awakening. Your thoughts certainly had been affected, if not so reflected upon. What the heck had this unmerciful insensitive been that had been hanging all around.



quote:

You still almost poo poo your pants.

A metallic thudding sound was made as your back forcefully hit the elevator wall. An ominous cloud hung in the air, the creature’s gaze radiating towards you. Was the creature demonic or angelic? Had it been the one that had punched through the elevator? If that was so, you doubted it wanted to go back down the pernicious void. You just hoped that it hadn’t been ruling over you with its trepid sight while planning to throw you down where it came from like a sacrificial lamb.

Throwing the first punch or going straight for the gun had never been the right solution. You put on a sweet face, your hand raised, sweating under your mask. You glanced over its face, colorful as the dawning sunrise, before opening your mouth. “Hi,” you blurted out, “What are you…”, followed shortly after.

The reflected gaze had been both insensible and provoking. You couldn’t tell if its skin had been ghoulish or gorgeous - like a poppy; not at that distance at least. Its porphyrogenic cloak was as silky as the deep blue sea, more penetrating than the rain whose fate had been to splash against the earth down below. You could compliment the creature, but would it care? Had it even been conscious? Maybe the silent blackness beneath would be your destination, and the question was only whether it would be by your own hands or the creature’s.

A foxhole is no place for pacifism. You readied your hands, prepared to go for its crotch, if it even had one. Probably make a run for it after that, or bash its head in, an awful repeat you’d encountered above way too many times. When you have the chance to be the wasp, sting the poo poo out of them.

It made no noise when it moved, no echoes either. You tensed up, its controlling eye testing your pressure. The subtle figure moved, eternally slowly. But then, the golden circlet sprang forth, pulling the cord with it and causing the body to disrobe, its cloak falling to the ground, the circlet coming down soon with it.



quote:


What looked like it’d been standing hadn’t. Moving broodingly silent, a warm nude body revealed itself. With it came a renewed sight, its bodily details more distinguished. It lacked legs, its lower body ending like a Gabriel's Horn, all of it covered with what looked like thin ash, beneath it a sobbing smoothness. You were dazzled for a moment when you eyed its chest. Three sets of perky breasts, toned like cerberus, weird too. It could’ve used a bath, or if hostile, a nice dousing with fire. But whether it was decaying or not, it had soon entered the elevator, its robe resting on top of the pillow and partially down the hole.

Your shoulders weighted down on you hard. You exhaled. Lots of choices, many drowning. Sit still? Make a run for it, even throw something at it for distraction? Or take your chances with the unknown and make acquaintances with whatever the heck had been down the hole?

You let out a deep measured breath through your nose. The situation now demanded your full attention, and while this rose hadn’t show its thorns, there was no guarantee your blood would not be shed. The orb of light on the creature’s head never blinked, while its gaze, unchanging and wide, was fixed towards the elevator space. You remained still, but you hoped that if you kept up with your plan of motionlessness, amity might ensue. You wondered, had your previous question been answered, but in a dissonant way? Or would it have been the same if you had simply stuck with the gruesome quietness, the same that you were suffering now, waiting for the creature to make its move?

Your hand had still been in the air, so you decided to venture forth, and hoped you weren’t breaking the glass of this fragile situation. A pond of questions arose in your mind, of the creature’s identity, of its name, or even of its gender. You had also just realized that, although its crotch had been quite wooly, no hole had been visible, not even an imitation. Same went for the mouth as well. Did it want you to strip as well? If so, you’d rather take your chances trying to breeze past it. You’d prefer to be patient and first see if it expected variability, or even worse, arousal from you.

You decided to play it safe, so you stood firm while your mouth opened again, “Can you take me where you came from?”. It responded with hush motionless, as if letting those words absorb into its skin first. They seemed to grow, as soon enough there was development, of the kind you didn’t except. From its twin sets of breasts, liquid started flowing out, fully transparent and turning the reflective skin into deep lush Prussian blue, the kind you couldn’t avert your eyes from. It trickled down the creases of her breasts, down the thin cone of its body, finally dripping down its robe and into the deep abyss below.



quote:

A deep confusion was soon inflicted upon you. It dripped below, its path a bit unnatural, maybe a sign that it caused this whole scene. But beyond that, it almost tempted you, to get close, to taste it. You could reach out, unrushed and easy. See how it could react. But you couldn’t do this without asking first, even if the action would be something that you’d no way in hell do. You’d be sure that even jumping down would require permission. The only thing you wouldn’t tolerate would be hostility, its dreary bits looking quite sensitive to your fists, if you had to guess where to plow them before gunning for it.

Ask it… ask it what? What absurdity had you indulged in? You were on an elevator, in front of you stood a floating wine-red colored demon creature, out of its tits seeping milk more blue than blueberries. And in front of it was somebody that had been suffering from some sort of corruption. On one hand glaring at it in distaste, on the other contemplating refreshing your lips with its milk.

You remained silent, helpless for a second as you recovered your soul. The decisions churned in your mind like a stomach trying to digest food. But you weren’t just any fluttering idiot or wasting your thoughts on frivolous ideas. The correct way for you to act, would be the most sensible one. Hug the wall as you pass it by, give it a sweet farewell, and then bail as soon as out of sight.

You began sliding against the wall, facing the creature. It remained still, eye locked on, a wry dryness making you seek a sip of water. You still hadn’t shown any fear, even if internally you’d been drowning in it. This nonsense was not worth pursuing further, but the scent of its milk was quite intense even at this distance, blooming vineyards was the closest you could imagine. The thoughts had been tempting. You could excuse yourself and slip right by it, saving your soul from itself first.

You paused as the mystical madonna had interrupted your departure. She raised her arm, first touching her breasts, before extending it towards your face. Its body language, had been too wailing, so you relaxed and secured a bit around its company. But appearances could always be deceiving.

Your hands moved first, bitterly cool, the sweat coatingthe elevator wall as well as your drenched your palms. You closed in, your face leaning towards the hovering hand. As you sniffed, the ardor and freshness veneered down your nostrils, straight to your brain. How crisp, how stretching…

The first lick was emasculating, the mellow richness too scarce to let go. You let your tongue get the best of you. Uncaring of anything else that covered it hands, you plunged your lips all around its fingers, stripping them of any milk along with rogue dust and soot.

You’d been determined to enjoy every single drop of this, and as you mopped it up, leaving nothing besides gravel skin, you left a trail of saliva, your tongue trying to savor whatever drops are left.

That flavor, that relishment. You’d almost gone numb tasting it, amnesia included. If it had been a remedy, it’d cure any disease. If it’d come out of a woman’s breast, you’d declare her a saint.

TheGreekOwl
Mar 1, 2014

THUNDERDOME LOSER

Greetings~

From this point on I have attempted to talk with editors and to get feedback. I hope that it is much clearer. Expect much crit!

With Regards



quote:

You held still, a tension running down your body, trying to bolt it to the exit. You hadn’t even halted to give it kick. In the span of a few seconds though, a sickness had been inflicted on your body, unknown in form, but not so in its origin. As you held your face from the dizziness, your knees become weak, arms heavy, tasting the inevitable decline.

From your throat came a growing urgent need to vomit, one that was disrupted momentarily while you tried to hold yourself by the elevator entrance. You probably had enough energy between this moment and the next to do something, after which you guessed you’d be either dead or clinging to life on the floor.

A worrying sweat cooled your body. An obscuring dizziness started to grow. To vomit made no sense as the urge was unwanted, even if you recollected the finger technique to do it. They used to hand out capsules for that up above. It wasn’t pretty.

You reached for your canteen, fumbled with the cap and with your focus slipping somehow managed to guide it to your lips. A merciful coolness washed away the warm juiciness from the milk, the mix of different liquids creating an alarming insensibility in your throat.

It took a few moments before it reached your stomach. You surrendered exhausted laying down in the cold cot, lowe body softened by the creatures robe. I’d be a future matter if it’d been determination, water, or luck that kept you breathing. You were a burned down building whose foundations barely stood. You could maybe make a final struggle, surprise the gently caress out of it. At least it wouldn’t be the milk that burned you to the ground.

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TheGreekOwl
Mar 1, 2014

THUNDERDOME LOSER

Greetings~

This is the end of the prologue!

Atleast I managed to reach this.

90 pictures, over 8800 words.

Maybe crits will come after this too.

Hope you enjoyed~

With Regards



quote:

Even pulling the robe around your body was beyond your capability. You laid on top of it, drained of energy, the full consequences of your foolish actions being quite clear. You’d been reduced to pure breathing, a cycle no louder than a whisper, demanding immense strength to maintain. You’d figured you drunk a relaxant, a powerful but also an anomalous one. How else could it drop you in seconds without killing you. Such silliness, but such obliviousness. These were the banes of mankind. Fruits paralyze, insects infest, predators maim, and in the end the poisonous water kills.
This lethargy you crashed with could be what you deserved. Your eyelids violently struggled to remain open, similar to how your lungs were trying to keep up, foolishly attempting to budge any semblance of strength from your decaying body. The creature hanged at the edge of your eyes, close but distant, its image looming over you maddeningly like death.

In this unusual tranquility an avalanche of words perturbed your mind. In the same way a chilling force washed over your body. You felt like you were floating, at first just a blurry suspicion, but then reality hit you when you sensed that the actual space between you and the floor grew.

You were leaned forward in a bitter fashion, facing the flat-faced creature. It stared at you, and you returned the favor. It swayed back to the elevator and easily brought you closer, levitating with you above the hole. You spent a moment gazing at each other, trying to ascertain what exactly must’ve possessed it to do this to you. Intimate confidence? Maddening indifference? Staring the lion at its face, you couldn’t figure out anything.



quote:

It blinked, the first time doing so since the two of you met, affirming its consciousness. It raised its arms, neither shaken or taken back, its palms sliding against your cheeks causing your body to tremble. Under this sensuous facade it seemed that it began lowering you, no recourse coming from your useless body, the needle-sharp hole endangering you only in your thoughts as you barely grazed it.

Beneath it somewhere, the boundary of no return, the space you assumed all of your lost friends faded into. You were descending down towards it and whatever sense of discipline you had was slipping against this fear of the unknown, slowly being replaced by a maddening dysphoria.

A brilliant darkness surrounded you, the blip of light of the elevator shrinking in the blackness before disappearing like a dying star. A similar feeling began assaulting you, as if the last of your sanity had been leaving you. Again, you couldn’t figure out if this had been a terrible dream.

Were you dead? No, you still had your thoughts, you still existed, even if your bodily senses eluded you. You were afraid, small, without awareness. You couldn’t have been more alien to yourself at that time. To admit that your problems might’ve been in some way related to your previous actions may finally be due.

You began reflecting and let your sacred land be open.



Thus begins the Katabasis

I will put into effect what little critique I've received. Please drop feedback from the stuff you have read if you have any comments.

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