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Topic started on 24-8-2003 @ 04:04 PM by Satyr
Advisory - Although it may or may not yet, this book is almost guaranteed to contain profanity and violence, or both. I'll take no responsibility for it's contents, as I have no idea what it may contain in the future.

I started writing my own
book a while back. I'd forgotten about it, but recently rediscovered it on my drive. After rereading it, I decided it wasn't too bad, so I started writing again. It's been slow going, but I'm still working on it. Maybe a few of you will tell me what you think? (Grammatical errors aside. This is a rough draft, of course.) I've gotten pretty positive feedback, so far. Most have told me I should finish it.

I can't really tell you what it's about, since I don't really know where it's going myself. But it's sort of a possible future conspiracy outcome scenario type of thing. It's going to get weird, and probably pretty deep. That you can bet on.


[Edited on 24-8-2003 by Satyr]


reply posted on 24-8-2003 @ 04:59 PM by Satyr
Originally posted by dragonrider
If it is your work, you are welcome to post excerpts of it, esp if you would like some member feedback. Try to keep each section around 2000 words, and try to avoid extreme violence, sex, and harsh language.

Otherwise, am interested to see part of it.


I'll just post a few of my favorite excerpts then.

After falling into a deep sleep, he dreamed he was eating an entire chicken, ripping pieces off and devouring them like a savage. It was a barbequed chicken and sauce was getting everywhere, dripping on the floor and splattering the walls. Just then, Gordon thought to himself, “Hey, I don’t have time to eat a whole chicken. I’ll be late for work!” Then, as if it was in fact reality, he jumped out of bed and realized he’d woken up one minute before his alarm would’ve gone off anyway. He showered and got dressed and went to the car.


Gordon pulled into the Institute parking lot and parked. This was not a happy place. Not a place Gordon enjoyed going to, in the least. Getting out of the car, he thought he could already hear the screams. Walking closer, he actually could. No, this was not a happy place at all. It always sounded as if people were being tortured in there to him. But everyone knew that the place was full of raving lunatics who had chosen to go against the grain of society.


But, since Simon Flager was an impatient man, he started fidgeting. He picked up a knife, the one he always keeps on his desk, and started carving under his nails, as one would do if they were trying to clean dirt out from under them. He did this often. It was his little nervous habit. He’d carve away at the skin on his fingers, then chew off the excess skin. He did this so often that his fingers would sometimes start bleeding. They’d hurt for days at a time, yet he’d continue chewing away.
Tonight, Simon noticed a small white speck on the tip of his finger. He took the knife to scrape away at it, and it was solid. He was horrified to discover that it was the bone. He’d chewed right through to the bone!
He looked away, opened the lower right drawer, and pulled out a bottle of pills. He opened them, threw five into his mouth, chewed them up, and washed them down with a swig of coffee. He thought to himself, “Damnit! I need more coffee!”


[Edited on 3-25-2004 by Satyr]
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