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Week 5.5 Submissions



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Bliip

Should change his username D:<
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For years, was it?

For five years he had taken the mask of justice. Every bullet screamed truth, even as they seared through the skulls of the transgressors. Truth! He and his brothers lived for it. “Let us bring down a revelation,” they said, faces in shadow. “Men are equal in the sights of God.” Through bullets he would teach this. For fame is a sin.

The door slammed shut behind him, rejecting entry to the angry rains outside. It was as if nature had answered today’s teaching. The water beat down on the lonely street, devoid of life and mirth, and even the windows were dim in light. He walked to the center of the room, a room of sparse furnishings—merely some chairs here and a table there, nothing more but a single light bulb. The scoped rifle he placed on the table gingerly, and he regarded it some time with solemnity, as if contemplating the deeds it had done. It is for truth. For fame is a sin. Those who reveled in the arrogance and wantonness of fame and fortune had to die, to let truth seep in through the holes.

He opened his eyes, grey as they were, and said, “You may reveal yourself, Brother.”

A tall man materialized from the darkness. He was garbed much the same way as he was; in blacks and grays and dull beiges. Upon a gaunt face were a set of clouded eyes and a mane of dark hair. He had his gloved hands entwined behind his back.

“You disposed of them, Charlemagne?” the man asked, voice icy.

Charlemagne nodded. “Indeed. Quick and swift, for that is the way of our mighty Brotherhood. None stood in my way. In the face of truth, their highborn lordships could do nothing.”

His Brother did not answer, only stared at him with those clouded eyes, which seemed colder than usual and not quite so blurred anymore. He withdrew a hand and flung a newspaper onto the table. With his other hand, he held a gun to Charlemagne’s temple.

For a while, Charlemagne was dumbfounded. “Brother, what is the meaning of this?”

“Truth is all the meaning you need, Brother.” The gun pressed against his forehead. Only then did Charlemagne take a glance at the headline on the newspaper:


ASSASSIN OF MANCHESTER STRIKES AGAIN

“Truth, Brother; that is what we live for, for fame is a sin.”
 

Bliip

Should change his username D:<
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Sub 2-

An Interview With an Actor
“We are here with movie star Daniel Stravencauf, we will be interviewing and following him on his day off from making movies!” said local Los Angeles news reporter Terra Thompson as she sat on a brown leather couch in the living room of Daniel’s home. Terra had dark skin and long brown hair, she was about 5’9 and wore a all white suit. Daniel sat to the left of Terra. Daniel was a white male with short black hair and wore a black t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans that appeared to be new and white tennis shoes. “Right before we interview Daniel, we’re going to commercial break, we’ll be back in 60 seconds!” said Terra with a big smile on her face. “So, Daniel, are you excited to be interviewed?” asked Terra. “Yes I am, this is my first interview in what I believe to be in a year…” replied Daniel who appeared nervous. The camera-man nudged Terra . “Ten seconds ‘til we start this thing!” said the camera-man. Terra grabbed her microphone and looked at Daniel, he was ringing his hands and was looking at the ground. “Daniel, are you ready?” asked Terra as she now became worried about Daniel. Daniel looked up at her with tears in his eyes and said, “Yes, I am….”. “In 4, 3, 2, 1…” said the camera-man.
“Welcome back to the show, we are with Daniel Stravencauf, the star of the upcoming movie Look at Me, this is his first interview in over a year so he’s kinda nervous, so give him a warm welcome…” said Terra as she pointed to Daniel on her left. Daniel waved at the camera and smiled, not big but not small as well. “So, what have you been up to lately Daniel?” asked Terra. Daniel looked at Terra still with tears in his eyes and said, “As you said I’m still working on Look at Me and I’m also working on an action flick called Monday is Actually Tuesday”. “That sounds great! It will be really cool to see you in an action movie…” said Terra. Daniel smiled with tears still in his eyes. “I hate to ask this, but I noticed the tears in your eyes, is something wrong?” asked Terra. Daniel started to frown and looked all around the living room as he was trying to avoid that question. Daniel couldn’t though. “Um, yes, there is….” replied Daniel as he turned his attention back to the female reporter. “A lot of bad stuff has happened to me lately, you may have heard about this but my girlfriend died in a car accident a few days ago, I was going to propose to her that night, then yesterday I found out my mom has cancer and today sister and I got into a fight, I love my sister dearly and I don’t want her to hate me….” Said Daniel who started to cry, he put his hand over his eyes and started to weep. Terra wore a sad expression on her face as she put her right hand on his back. She looked at the camera and said, “We’re going to a commercial break” but then Daniel interrupted her and said, “I’m a very religious man, Monday is Actually Tuesday is going to be my last movie, like I said before, I’m a very religious man, and why I say that and why that movie is my last is because I know in my heart, fame is a sin and one day you’ll have everything but then you’ll have nothing…”. Daniel hugged Terra as he kept weeping. “Don’t worry Daniel, everything will be alright…” said Terra as she patted Daniel on the back.
 

Bliip

Should change his username D:<
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Re: Sub 2-

I thought this was okay, but there were a few run-on sentences, especially near the end. also, i didn't feel that the things that happened to Daniel were things that had to do with his fame (not saying it's off-topic or anything though).

good though, keep it up :)
 

Bliip

Should change his username D:<
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Flo-rida
Re: Sub 1-

I really liked this one. It had a good setting, and it had very good use of adjectives. All in all, very intriguing.

But there is one thing i feel i have to point out...why did both of you contestants use the topic statement in your stories? lol not saying it in a bad way, but i just wanted to know why both of you felt the need.
 

Nyangoro

Break the Spell
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Re: Sub 1-

It was really good. Short, sweet, and to the point, lol. The length made it a little hard to gather at first, but that's likely part of the point.
 

Nyangoro

Break the Spell
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Re: Sub 2-

It was alright. I would have preferred some spacing, but the main problem was that I didn't find it all to interesting. It was like the only way to use the theme "fame is a sin" was to have someone talk about fame being a sin. It seems a little lacking to me.
 

Bliip

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Sub 3-

The One Commandment
By Ordeith
(a tribute to George Orwell’s 1984)[/CENTER]

The crisp autumn wind fritted about sporadically, every now and then providing a slight boost to the bright crimson flags decorating the vast expanse of the neat concrete square. All was draped in complete silence, save for the resounding echoes of a thousand worn grey shoes slapping against the cold wet concrete, a concrete that was almost and identical shade of grey to the dreary overcast cloud cover above and the imposing block-like building looming at the edge of the square. It created an unusual sensation in one’s head not unlike vertigo, for it seemed as though the edges of everything were all blurred together, and that one was standing in the center of a vast field of nothingness. The only object there that kept reality intact for the wearers of these thousands of grey shoes were the equally numbered bright crimson flags emblazoned with the grim, equally grey visage of Most Supreme and Glorified High Superior Chancellor Dubyah G. Shrubb.

The closely-packed double-file line trudged wearily forward with myself squashed firmly in its center, unable to move anywhere but forward, towards the main flagpole, where I, in the exact same manner as everybody in front of and behind me, would hail the flag with the salute of our fathers and our forefathers. Since we were strictly required to remain facing directly forward until we came to the base of the flagpole, I rolled my eyes about my line of peripheral vision until my gaze came to rest upon the face of the clean-shaven middle-aged man that occupied each and every brilliantly red flag in the square. His squinted, somewhat diminutive eyes held absolutely nothing within them, nothing as far as I could discern, and his thin-lipped mouth was but a flat line on his weathered face; in all honesty, I could see absolutely nothing that marked him out from any of us. He seemed lowly and unintelligent to my eyes, in fact. And yet, since the very day I had been born, I had been fed a constant stream of patriotic drivel by both my mother and my father about the extraordinary greatness and leadership of Chancellor Shrubb, and how by simply existing, I owed him every precious fiber of my soul.

The very worst of it was that half of the time, I had believed them, to boot; only my grandfather, who spontaneously stopped in for a visit every so often, kept my sanity in check. When nobody was around or watching, he would set me down in his lap, and I would rest my head on his massive stomach while he told me of the days before Dubyah’s Revolution against the world, that back in 2004, people saw him for what he was: a monster and a coward. I always burst out laughing when he told me about how we all used to joke about how idiotic Chancellor Shrubb was, and when he left the office of Resident the first time (I’m fairly certain that was what it was called…), everyone cheered and paraded through the streets. He told me that I could become whatever it is I wanted to be, and immediately I told him that I wanted to be a world-famous writer, after which he laughed heartily, ruffled his large hand through my hair, and promptly dozed off into dreamland.

But then the exciting spontaneous visits suddenly stopped, and upon asking my parents about the matter, they simply dismissed my grandfather’s lack of visits as his old age taking a toll on him; if I had ever heard a lie in my entire life, it was that one. They had never- My train of thought suddenly came to a startling, screeching halt; I was standing at the flagpole, doing absolutely nothing. Behind me, silent voices of anxiety and fear wailed out for the poor doomed soul standing silently at the flagpole, knowing full well that he would never live to see another day. Quickly, I made the appropriate salute and moved onwards in the line, saying and doing nothing else. Finally, after a great deal of trudging and marching, once I had mustered enough courage to do so, I quickly glanced back at the faces behind me; no fear, nor any pity or anxiety. There had been no pause, merely my own mind panicking from being so suddenly awakened to the physical world. So, tell me why a heavy curtain of dread still draped over my heart, and why those squinting, unintelligent eyes, suddenly seemed to jeer and accuse.

…My hand wavered and trembled visibly as I anxiously grasped for the near-empty glass of water at the edge of my kitchen table; it seemed as though it were a mile away from me. But I managed to drag the glass across the table and over to me, where, still trembling horribly, I managed to lift it to my thin lips for a sip; the plain glass felt as though it weighed a ton in my hand. They know. He knows. Before I had even set it down, they had found me and taken me. Never before had my cheap, peeling kitchen linoleum felt quite so hard as when my head slammed against its glossy surface, leaving a visible indent in the floor. And never did I find it so difficult to breathe as when the thick gloved fingers formed a tight fist around my neck. As pieces of the room began to blur and fade, hot breath in my ear formed the words, “In Dubyah’s world, fame is a sin.”
 

Essence of Elegy

How long shall you delve into time?
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Re: Sub 3-

Well done, I would say. The setting was marvelously set, and the mood does let the reader feel with what's going on, if you catch my meaning.
 
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