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January 5th, 2012, 09:23 PM
I Apologize for any explicit material.

Also, The title kind of sucks, I'm sorry about that too, I don't actually have a title for it so if anybody would like to help create a title that would be awesome.
Feedback appreciated. Thank you.

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00:00

Mannequin like people, Their flesh thin and Grey, from the years of darkness. Moving like robots, slow and programmed. No hair, No gender. Rotting pieces made of forgotten memories. Wounds that won't heal. The world is dark gray and metallic. Nobody speaks and nobody listens, The eyes of the people are black and reflective. The side of their heads have small holes where ears should be. Their feet leave behind a blood like trail in a seemingly colorless world.


The beings in this world, they had appendages that should never vary, Three fingers, one of which a thumb. Any other number of fingers on one hand would be considered 'imperfect'. They had 'feet' that would be similar to one stuffing their feet into a shoe box. Both feet were light but looked like heavy blocks. Their eyes were large and they had no mouths, only a small filter in which they may 'feed', Which is not a commendable thing to do and is frowned upon by 'them'. 'They' ruled everything and yet 'they' do not exist. while everything is co originated and in sync, there is no ultimate power over the beings. Yet, these beings still follow every command their 'instincts' give them.



Mannequin like people operate large machines, lots of gears, all the people and machinery are in complete sync. moving at the same time. The machines control the world around them. which is dark and metallic. A conveyor belt nearby, There's people lying on the belt, all broken, unrepairable. It runs endlessly. A seemingly infinite number of beings coming from the darkness. No knowledge of being produced or constructed. Only the knowledge of their future deconstruction.


Although it was warm here in this place, beings always tried to become warmer. Sometimes the beings would jump into a nearby lake of fire in attempt to satisfy their needs to feel warmer. The result would be a burning pain with no satisfaction. Still desiring warmth they may even lay upon red hot iron. Their needs are unquenchable and the sickness spreads quickly throughout the beings. There is a constant stream of "Faulty Flesh ware" on the belt.


Although beings here could not see or hear, they all followed.

However, the man began to notice that he could manipulate the environment around him inside of this dream. He was now aware that he was a being who existed in this world, he was just like them, moved like them. He began to realize he could change the actions of this being. At first it was just simple changes, he could move the fingertips almost casually now, the hand was becoming stronger. His flesh became less transparent and turned a dark shade of gray. Instead of being able to see, he could feel his surroundings. He realized now that this was a world of existence all on its own, another dimension.


Back in the colorless world, he is now able to move almost fluently. slowly moving his 'feet'. He walked into the position that felt right, it felt red. There were levers in front of him, they were strangely familiar. He pulled the 1st lever. He could feel gears grinding in the distance, A steady rumble. He continued pulling the levers in an automatic fashion, he was robotic, he was planned and programmed. He fit in to the world he was set, like a puzzle piece. He thought to himself...

"Wow, In this world it is as if nothings exists and yet simultaneously does exist for eternity. Where nothing is remembered and yet nothing is forgotten. There was nothing to see or to be heard. There are no languages to be spoken. He would not have to worry about the future. He knew everything was to be taken care of. In reality, if he were to write his existence onto paper and it not be burned away in time, Had the language cease to exist then it will be lost information forever, like ancient hieroglyphics, undecipherable. I would rather stay here where there are no words, you can just feel existence and yet you also feel the non existence. To be present and not present simultaneously. To have a conscious mind to be controlled and an empty soul to be filled. Also having no mind to be full of free will and a full soul just waiting to be emptied. There was a draining in his surroundings. He could feel a time limit on his non existence. He knew that nothing lasts forever and yet at the same time, everything lasts forever."

He was now in a small area where he is to stay until the levers need be operated again. until his non existence, exists for no time at all, for eternity.





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These are two seperate components of the same story, but different um, worlds if you will.


00:00PM

He stops at a bar. He goes inside. The place is very old and deserted. Red lights hang from above. There's a small stage with torn curtains and a single stool, center stage. There's a microphone stand but no microphone. There's no other tables in the entire bar, just two stools at the bar. An old bartender sitting across the bar chewing tobacco, looks up with almost completely toothless grin.

Bartender: "Welcome to Hell."
Man, exhausted and fatigued: "Excuse me?"
Bartender: "It's the name of the bar, kid. You look like you got roughed up something fierce."

The man sits at the bar and looks at the splinter wood.

Bartender: "What'll it be? "
Man: "I don't know, I haven't drank in a while. What's good?"
Bartender: "Good? Ha! I got a drink for you here, one minute now."

The bartender mixes a few different bottles together in a glass, making a pitch black drink.

Bartender: "You know, I saw a man come in here, years ago now, Looked to be about in the same shape as you are. Yup, I saw him sit right in that same stool..." He grins again.

The man stares into his eyes, they seemed cold and distant, He could see the reflection of himself in his eyes.
The bartender stops grinning.

Bartender: "He wasn't too much of a drinker either, so I made this very same drink...."

He spits a small amount of chew out into his hand, rolling it around between his chubby little fingertips. Then into the drink.

Bartender: "He went and killed a bunch of people with gardening tools, buried them in a graveyard hidden away from site. Yup, they found them bodies alright. Ain't never find that man though, Of course, this was a time ago, Doubt he'd still be alive anymore."

Bartender: "If you're in some pain, Take a shot of this..."

He pours a shot and shoves it into the mans hands.

The man stares into the drink in front of him, Black and reflective, he could see himself clearly. A drop of blood hits the bar, he's still bleeding. He downed the shot hastily. It was sour soil. Soil with fertilizer, manure that burned. His throat felt like it was on fire. Like strips of his throat have been burned off and incinerated. Like chewing on glass and swallowing it. Gargle razor blades. He slammed the shot glass down hard, his hands were shaking, as well as his knees.

Another drop of blood hit the bar, Then his face. Everything goes black.


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06:00 AM

He drove to a quiet breakfast restaurant. A little bit out of the way, he enjoyed it because it was mostly vacant besides one waitress and an old chef in the kitchen. He ordered eggs, Sunny side up, With a slice of toast. The toast was lightly burnt, making it look dark gray, the only noticeable color around him was the yellow yoke of his eggs, alongside witch a stream of ketchup. He suddenly envisioned the red swirl of ketchup as a river of blood, with bodies floating downstream. The yellow of the yoke, A fire, broken out upon a nearby village. Occupants of which were in said river. The sole survivors were the elderly, left to suffer to death, leaving behind no one capable of working the nearby fields for food. Or hunting the nearby woods for meat, What little that was left of these woods were now ablaze, leaving ashes on the burnt fields of the area.



Sorry it's not a complete work so to speak but I was hoping posting these small parts, I could get some feedback on and of course hopefully create a title for it. Thank you for reading.
To Be Continued... If you want. :grin:

Nene
January 8th, 2012, 07:59 PM
I don't lie, when I say i LOVE it. Its odd structure and multifoliate nature reminds me of some things I wrote in high school of that nature, where you get multiple (twisted) angles on the same event (very different angles at that).

Favorite part:

Wow, In this world it is as if nothings exists and yet simultaneously does exist for eternity. Where nothing is remembered and yet nothing is forgotten. There was nothing to see or to be heard. There are no languages to be spoken. He would not have to worry about the future. He knew everything was to be taken care of. In reality, if he were to write his existence onto paper and it not be burned away in time, Had the language cease to exist then it will be lost information forever, like ancient hieroglyphics, undecipherable. I would rather stay here where there are no words, you can just feel existence and yet you also feel the non existence. To be present and not present simultaneously. To have a conscious mind to be controlled and an empty soul to be filled. Also having no mind to be full of free will and a full soul just waiting to be emptied. There was a draining in his surroundings. He could feel a time limit on his non existence. He knew that nothing lasts forever and yet at the same time, everything lasts forever.

This part is very well written and poetic.

I also like the food description. It shows the imagination of a child, which is hard to always emulate.

Keep up the good work. I am very interested to read more. I will offer more valuable critique in time. I just wanted to express my satisfaction with your writing and encourage you to further the story!

Higurro
January 9th, 2012, 07:22 PM
Maybe I'm just getting excited, but I can picture this being worked up into a mind-bending si-fi tour de force, some odd spelling/punctuation notwithstanding.

For some reason I loved the line:
"I don't know, I haven't drank in a while. What's good?" There seems something incredibly expressive about it. I think there's a lot to commend here, and polishing it up could yield something very compelling. Hope to see more soon!

Dylan
January 9th, 2012, 10:33 PM
Title Ideas:


The Darkness of Time
Broken Mirrors



Very interesting. I like it, but I don't know why I like it. It just grips me. If this style of writing was combined with an interesting story... Very interesting indeed ;)