What I'm Working On (a place to post your writing!)

Replies to This Discussion

Permalink Reply by Michael (3DimensionalToaster) on March 28, 2011 at 4:50pm

Im working on a novel called 2101. Its about millions of imperfect universes colliding to form the perfect universe! Hopefully available to buy soon

Permalink Reply by Lana Given (Hobbitess) on December 15, 2012 at 4:49am

Almost through with my novel. It's about 58,000 words now.... A lot further than I expected it to go. Really starting to fall in love with the characters. Already have the idea for a sequel.
"The Agency experimented with children and dimensional portals. 15 years later, one of the children returns."

Permalink Reply by Arriah (Panthasaurus) on February 23, 2013 at 4:44pm

My main project is a novel that's already way too long to post here. But I'm also writing a story on my blog that I hope will assist with getting me a few fans with which to impress publishing companies in the future. If anyone would like to take a look at it and tell me what they think, please do. Here's the link: http://propheciesofshadow.blogspot.com/

Permalink Reply by Phoenix (Dark Elf) on November 7, 2013 at 1:40pm

I'm editing my novel, which is over 280,000 words, 648 typed pages.  Meanwhile I work on a few side-stories or just little pieces for fun, I post those here: http://figment.com/users/322268-Phoenix.  A read is always appreciated, and if you perhaps need an editor for your own work, contact me, because I love editing.

Permalink Reply by Reika (R-chan) on December 26, 2013 at 5:56am

This is a sort of scifi/psychological novel I've been working on. 

The rest of it is on Deviant Art, if anyone's interested : Robotic Zamat's Derivations

Hope you enjoy it!

Cheers!

R-chan out!

<3  

Deep Dive System 1

“I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.”

-Sir Issac Newton

 

In a far off land, long before the memory of anyone who is still alive, there is a sea. It is vast and endless; endless as the starless night and about as dark and fathomless as well. It reaches near and far and cannot be encompasses by any land. It is familiar, and yet frighteningly alien to our very being. It is the source of fear and also of creativity. It is whole and one. From time to time a person may walk along its shores or even, if he is brave, even into its cool waves, but those who venture any further are never heard from again. They are pulled in by a great tide that is as relentless as it is merciless, as strong as it is impulsive. Their bodies may be retrieved, but no semblance of their former selves remain.

It was into this sea that Humanity was preparing to Dive.

It was the Future, but it was also the Past. It was new, and yet it was old. In ancient times shamans and those associated with witchcraft were the people capable of entering into the Sea of Human Consciousness. Then, Humanity lost this ability in the revolutions and in its adolescence rebellion of the knowledge of its elders. As Science and Rationality gained favour and popularity, Humanity lost the understanding that not everything real could be touched or, indeed, was conceivable. The ideals of tangible and logical thought based on the visible world outdistanced those of the world that was only perceived through experience and meditation. Its scorn of these things lead to a great loss of knowledge and enlightenment. One could even call this the Real Dark Ages where nothing but physical comfort and gain ruled, and even that for a rare few. And Humanity suffered, as did the world around them as they were sent out of kilter at a devastating angle, out of the balance that had held this inventive species in harmony with its natural surroundings and fellow life.

However, there were some humans, some people who somehow felt the ill pressure of this situation and sought to find ways of relieving it. Many reverted to older religions, thinking that the fault lay in a culture of domination. Others sought to isolate themselves from all around them, forgetting that a person isolated was a person crippled. Still others believed that Science would, sooner or later, show what was missing and light the way to a new and glorious future where all problems were solved.

Each and every one of us needs something to believe and hope in.

One man was at the forefront of the latter group of people. Dr Timothy Hardy was a man who had realized this pressure weighing upon him and had taken it upon himself to identify its source and seek some way of releasing it. A lifetime of work and research had led him to a possible solution: the Sea.

He had realised that many great minds of the past had likened their revelations and insights as coming from a sea. Newton was a prime example. And as far as Science went, Newton was no less than a prophet of almost godly powers over their world and experience. Taking this into account and using his own substantial computational and technological genius, Dr Hardy came to a similar conclusion. Propounding the idea that there is only one ‘computer’ capable of digesting all material fed into it and give accurate and precise conclusions without even having to be programmed. It contained all answers and all questions. There was nothing it did not know concerning Humans and life as was known on Earth: collective consciousness.

This what Dr Hardy realised and threw his lifetime into. He finally came up with a system that would be able to allow all access to this endless database. And he succeeded.

This is what happened.

Deep Dive System 2

“Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.” – Natalie Goldberg

 

My mind caught up with my body.

I have no idea when, or how, but it somehow managed it. I was sitting curled into an inoffensive ball with my back against a cold corner in a dark and desolate room shaking and only able to take painful, sobbing breaths. It was rather pathetic, but there was not much I could do about it. My body had decided to fall into this state of disarray, and there was no talking to it. I could not move. Frankly, I could hardly think. My mind was almost completely blank, barring the horrendous images that kept resurfacing again, and again, and again, and again. My heart was thudding in a sickening manner, my back was drenched with sweat and I was clenching my hands as I was hugging my thighs to my raggedly heaving chest.

I was sure, somewhere in the depths of my mind, that I had gone mad.

There was no other explanation.

I had always wondered if I would notice if I finally did.

Thoughts were spinning not only in completely random directions, but also with whirring ferocity. It was akin to seeing a Formula 1 engine suddenly deciding that it was not going to stay within the body of the car and had jumped out and was now chasing after the pit crew with bloody thoughts of revenge. If this had been happening to anyone else, I would have been laughing my kidneys out. Not that having it happen to myself was not hilarious, it was just that I was incapable of mirth of any sort which rather ruined the whole experience, somehow. On the other hand, there was no one to see. This was a plus. A big one. I did not need the others smirking over me, me, or all people, when I should have been the first person to calmly assess the situation. Then again, I had run. Plain and simple. I was not going to lie to myself. I was in enough mental trouble without something completely stupid like that. I had run, bolted like a startled fox at the sound of a bugle and the others must have seen it. They could not have not done so. I had been right ahead of them.

I had finally lost it.

I have often thought that having an 'off' button for one's brain would be a very useful thing. For example, if something happened that unnerved me, or disturbed me, then I could simply turn my thinking off and follow a predetermined pattern of dealing with the crises then happily turn my thinking back on after, without bothering with such things as shock, emotional strain, possible psychotic episodes, etc. Of course, this was always an idyllic line of thinking, but, hey, I like to delude myself into thinking that I have got the same right as anyone else to dream.

And this dream was very much becoming a desperate necessity at that time. Now, that I think back, I was most likely in some state of shock. I was shaking, sweating, my breath was not even and I was feeling twitching pains throughout my body. It wasn't comfortable, let me tell you. However, that was what it was.

Funnily enough, it was this thought that seemed to stab into the incessant whir of the maddening thoughts that had taken control over my mind and body. It pierced through, like a ray of light between the drawn blinds of a darkened room on a searing summer’s day. Its intensity was enough to sort of stutter the otherwise smoothly flowing whirlwinds of dizzying bleakness and blackness shredding me. And then it was gone, leaving a fading, glowing trail in my wreaked brain. But it had been there.

I remember screaming, then biting hard down on my left fist, drawing blood.

And it returned. The thought that I was mad returned and I lost no time in grabbing it with all the mental effort I could muster, desperate not to find myself lost again. With this, thoughts of embarrassment at being seen like this surfaced, and also who I would be embarrassed before, and why. Where I had met these people, who they were, and what we had done together, what I had seen them do. This further connected with the places connected to these people and the pain in my hand. Then came the hilarity of the situation, a tired sort of hilarity which held no little amount of sheer desperation and determination to get out of this hell hole with any and all tricks I could muster.

It was a good thing I knew myself so well. Perhaps too well.

Gaining enough control over my motor functions with the induced pain, I slapped my face. Hard. Blinking, I did so again, wondering if there was something near that I could use. But there was no need to do so. The intense, maddening tornado of demonic thoughts had lost their power over me and I was resurfacing like a diver who had been trapped under the water for a bit too long. This was a shock in itself and my body responded as such. My legs slid out and forward, kicking up a dust cloud into the still air. My hands fell limply to the floor and I leaning against the wall staring ahead of me as if I had just run three consecutive marathons without stopping. It certainly felt like it. And my stupid hand was hurting too. Brilliant.

My eyes, which felt as if I had stayed up watching a glaring monitor for three nights, rolled about this way and that, trying to understand where I was. At least I was now in a state to comprehend such a complicated idea. I was in a dingy, uninhabited room. It had three windows, all broken and shattered with jagged pieces of glass still held in the frames like the teeth of a rabid animal. The walls were grey and crumbling, the door was missing. It was dilapidated to say the very least. There was a musty, mouldy smell, the sort that I have always hated, like a dry and dusty underarm. If people had ever lived here, they had been gone for at least twenty to thirty years. Knowing where I was, I wondered that there were inhabitants; buildings? I suddenly realised how confounding this was.

My curiosity was getting the better of me as it always did.

This was a welcome thought, I can tell you.

If only my body could respond as my heart this to this idea.

Slowly, I managed to raise a shaky hand and wipe my filthy face in an even filthier sleeve. The only advantage of this was that I could get rid of the trickle of cooling perspiration that was irritating me. Bringing up my other hand, I rubbed my face, which was going to be rather sore of a time to come.

If the others ever found out…

I would never here the end of it.

I then began to take stock of the rest of my body. There were no broken bones, no bleeding other than the incisor wounds on my fist. Everything I had undergone had been purely mental. Literally, I thought, bursting into a fit of giggling that was more hysterical than I was comfortable with, which only made me giggle more. This ended abruptly in a fit of coughing, though. Sitting up to cough I braced myself with my arms, then wheezed to a stop with a sigh. Rolling my eyes at myself, I patted back my hair, then wiped my nose on my sleeve, spitting to the side, coughing. A lot of dust had gotten into my nose and throat.

I had to pull myself together.

I had to get out of this filthy place.

I had to find the others.

And they must never find out what I had just been through.

Never.

Ever.

I was certain I would never hear the end of it, if they did. This was reason enough for my, prideful idiot that I am, to push myself up onto my wobbling legs and stagger about as the circulation burst into full action again. The light from the windows flung a shadow of my form against the wall as I rested a hand against it.

I grinned as I watched it. 

Permalink Reply by Christine (Sand Sprite) on July 17, 2015 at 8:55am

Whilst she wisp past my nose, she might be friend or foe. Though a little sprite she may be, I wouldest not make her utterly angry, for my nose mightest no longer be. But if she feels like being oh so sweet, a wonderful friend she might be.

• ‹ Previous
• 1
• 2
• 3
• Next ›
• Page