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  1. #21
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    Those were two spots that also bothered me. I couldn't think of anything to portray the idea of the village being in the mountains grasp so to speak. I'll work those out for sure...I thought those would suffice but should have known better.

  2. #22
    Quote Originally Posted by FleshEater View Post
    Those were two spots that also bothered me. I couldn't think of anything to portray the idea of the village being in the mountains grasp so to speak. I'll work those out for sure...I thought those would suffice but should have known better.

    As long as you don't think I'm picking things out needlessly, I only want to help spot things that might have slipped by you. It reads really well and I would definitely read more so keep it up and hopefully you will have a complete story!
    Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.Hidden Content
    (1903 - 1974)

  3. #23
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    Quote Originally Posted by Tiberius Baltar View Post
    As long as you don't think I'm picking things out needlessly, I only want to help spot things that might have slipped by you. It reads really well and I would definitely read more so keep it up and hopefully you will have a complete story!
    In no way do I think that. I want people to pick this apart; especially since I've learned to embrace criticism rather than shame from it.

    The story is actually nearly finished on paper and completely in my head. I just haven't drafted the latter part 45 times over hahaha!

  4. #24
    I have concluded that mankind is nothing more than a minuscule speck, insignificant in its existence within a vast, endless universe. The common belief of a celestial realm, posing itself in a life hereafter, seems no longer plausible after what I have witnessed. I fear our species shall soon be acquainted with the same hopelessness which now afflicts my very being. We’re not alone; I know this now. There are far more superior life forms hiding themselves amongst the stars and the planets. They’re unworldly creatures that walk among us, hidden, disguised in human flesh and blood.
    (I like this, it’s a good set up, very Lovecraftian)





    The information contained herein shall reveal the unearthly things, which now dwell upon this earth, which are so hideous and malicious in their intent that I dare not speak of them. I have thus far, remained silent about those unworldly anomalies which I had discovered within the wooded mountains of the north. Now, it seems, I have been driven nearly insane by my refusal to communicate the horrors which beseeched me on my travels. I imagine, once my silence is broken, that I shall be committed indefinitely. I alone have knowledge of these things, and the solitary confinement of that knowledge has tormented me endlessly. Persecution shall be welcomed with sheer alacrity if it means the resolution of this unrelenting burden.

    I can definitely see the influence, obviously you are a fan. However, this sounds eerily similar to the opening of one of Lovecraft’s works. (Though generally they tend to start in the same manner)

    My search of literary inspiration is what led me to the small village of Carthage. I intended to spend the remaining months of the year, confined to the desolate solitude of the vast, northern most regions of the Appalachian Mountains. I believed that residing in utter seclusion would offer the appropriate peace and tranquility needed to finish my work. This small village would be the last sign of humanity before I ventured into the far reaches of the uninhabited wilderness. I had planned to spend only a few days in Carthage; in search of a place of rest and to replenish diminished supplies. However, I knew not of the impending doom, nor of the deadly confinement awaiting me in that damnable place.

    Again I am struck, feeling as if I’ve read this before.


    But then you bring to me the meat of the piece and it sure was tasty. A very pretty read, I don't have any suggestion because it flowed so well. Nice imagery, didn't quite give me the creeps yet, but i enjoyed it immensely, and once the prologue of sorts was done the de je vu feeling went away.

    "It's only falling in love because you hit the ground."- "I Appear Missing", Queens of the Stone Age

    "She lingers beneath the dying moonbeams; glass in hand, struggling to stand, and in her eyes the universe gleams." - Lady of the Moment

    [Hidden Content ] - Always appreciative of a critique.




  5. #25
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    Thanks Noxicity! I would probably find the beginning unsettling if I were striving for some originality....however, saying that reminds you of Lovecraft is a huge compliment for me hahaha! I look at those entry paragraphs as a tribute to probably my most influential inspiration.

    I don't really like this story, but I will finish it.

  6. #26
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    Noxicity; I'm rather perturbed by something in your response. Can you possibly tell me what was lacking? I was hoping to give off at least a slight bit of creepiness with the explanation of the village, but see I failed to stimulate any hint of "scariness" ha-ha! I took a shot at being creepy and ended up with the comment of "pretty" ha-ha!

    I'm currently re-writing, or rather adding a lot more to the description of the village. Hopefully these added bits will incite some sort of eerie feeling within the reader. But if you could (Noxicity) explain why you didn't feel any impending doom (so to speak) I'd greatly appreciate it.

    Thanks!
    “Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.”
    ― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
    “Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what’s wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.” —Neil Gaiman

  7. #27
    Well nothing scary happened. The horror in Lovecrafts work was always when he revealed the monster or God or horrible thing that happened. The imagery is good, empty village competely decrepit and covered in icky stuff, but without that lynch pin to send us into madness it doesn't come off a frightening.

    "It's only falling in love because you hit the ground."- "I Appear Missing", Queens of the Stone Age

    "She lingers beneath the dying moonbeams; glass in hand, struggling to stand, and in her eyes the universe gleams." - Lady of the Moment

    [Hidden Content ] - Always appreciative of a critique.




  8. #28
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    Ah-ha! Very good...well, then I think the newest edit of "The Village" part might be just enough to incite a slight bit of creepiness within.

    I'll try and do a quick edit, just to make sure that I am actually happy with The Village section, and post up a new draft.
    “Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.”
    ― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
    “Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what’s wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.” —Neil Gaiman

  9. #29
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    Nanzagoth; "The Village" Rewrite...

    The latter half of this new revision has only had one or two reviews (done by me). I probably won't make too many more drastic changes to the section of "The Village" but will note any that are made with the posting of the following section "The Inn" (which is still being produced, or rather reproduced).

    Also, I went through the entire thing and changed a few lines or added a few lines here and there (if you were wondering if re-reading those previous lines would hold any new format).

    Please share your thoughts on this revised piece as well; I greatly appreciate the comments I received from my last posting.

    “Nanzagoth”
    By Matthew A. Campbell

    I have concluded that mankind is nothing more than a minuscule speck, insignificant in its existence within a vast, endless universe. The common belief of a celestial realm, posing itself in a life hereafter, seems no longer plausible after what I have witnessed. I fear our species shall soon be acquainted with the same hopelessness which now afflicts my very being. We’re not alone; I know this now. There are far more superior life forms hiding themselves amongst the stars and the planets. They’re unworldly creatures that walk among us, hidden, disguised in human flesh and blood.

    The information contained herein shall reveal the unearthly things, which now dwell upon this earth, which are so hideous and malicious in their intent that I dare not speak of them. I have thus far, remained silent about those unworldly anomalies which I had discovered within the wooded mountains of the north. Now, it seems, I have been driven nearly insane by my refusal to communicate the horrors which beseeched me on my travels. I imagine, once my silence is broken, that I shall be committed indefinitely. I alone have knowledge of these things, and the solitary confinement of that knowledge has tormented me perpetually. Persecution shall be welcomed with sheer alacrity if it means the resolution of this unrelenting burden.

    My search of literary inspiration is what led me to the small village of Carthage. I intended to spend the remaining months of the year, confined to the desolate solitude of the northern most regions of the Appalachian Mountains. I had hoped that residing in utter seclusion would offer the appropriate peace and tranquility needed to finish my work. This small village would be the last sign of humanity before I ventured into the far reaches of the uninhabited wilderness. I had planned to spend only a few days in Carthage, in search of a place to rest and to replenish diminished supplies. However, I knew not of the impending doom, nor of the deadly confinement awaiting me in that damnable place.

    The Village

    I had traveled many miles through the treacherous Appalachia terrain before reaching the crest of the White Mountains. As I stood atop the colossal mass of earth, I could vaguely discern the minute presence of humanity residing below, nestled deeply within the mountains womb. A mist presided over the vale, draping all that lain beneath it in a dreary, uncanny haze. The vast range of surrounding prodigious earth, cast its shadow over the entirety of the valley, seemingly hiding the village of Carthage amidst a sea of darkness. Luminous trails of dawning light shone through the foliage on either side of the land mass, its radiance danced upon the miasmatic cloud below, dispersing its reflection wildly. The view beset before me, entranced my mind in fantastic wonders, seducing in its greatness; enticing the imaginative artistry of divinity.

    I saturated my lungs in the wonders of that atmosphere, inhaling a zephyr of cool September air, which rushed over my face as I rode my horse along the mountain path. Autumn’s scent trailed carelessly behind, its notable aroma enthralled and permeated my senses. The mountainous frondescence bathed the landscape in waves of beautiful, flourishing greenery, which flowed exuberantly with life and vitality. The forthcoming cold weather could not be hinted in the slightest amongst this celestial portrayal of scenery. It was an utterly magnificent spectacle to behold.

    Though the beauty of this seeming perfection in nature nourished the senses; there was an eerie tinge of insidious serenity, which encapsulated me as I looked upon the wooded land. There was something brooding within this natural elegance. A peculiar sense of stillness seemed to haunt these mountains. The wild life appeared devoid, as if it had retired to hibernation, or that it altogether ceased to exist. I much expected the forests to clamor wildly in harmonious song, but instead received only silence from the mountains vacancy. The mere sound of my horse, breaking branches and disturbing the earth, resounded like a death rattle amongst the emptiness as I made my descent.

    Traversing further down the steep, harsh mountainside, I noticed the air growing heavier, dampening my clothes as droplets of dew formed about the brim of my fedora. The mountain floor was shrouded in a dense, murky fog, which relinquished to the eye only a faint silhouette of outlined cottages. At the very sight of this nearing destination, an unrelenting and wild aggression was incited within my horse. The beast reared back violently, nearly knocking me to the ground. Such a display of animosity induced an unnerving feeling within my very being. I should have heeded the warning which the animal so vehemently delivered, but instead I cursed at his unruliness as I battled his stubbornness. After what had seemed many minutes, I had regained control of the steed. However, I do not believe the animal trusted my guidance nor even obeyed my strict words; instead I fear that something much more powerful, something sinister, had commanded his will.

    The village lain less than a mile from the base of the mountain. Though the looming fog, which cast a dim hue of grey over the village, had made it appear much further. The bottom of this mountainous vale was wholly different from that of the high peaks above. That wonderful, though silent landscape, which had first impressed my senses was absolutely devoid in this lower region. There was no flourishing greenery, no life or vitality; there was nothing, but barren earth. It was a portrait which mimicked death and depravity in a jesting manner; the artistry of a truly decadent, fallen god.

    A shrill shiver crept down my spine as I made my way along the pathway to the village. The trail led me to an immense tunnel of grotesquely twisted trees, whose bare branches intertwined together in menacing gestures. These were the bane of life amongst the earth beneath, as the dense cloud of limbs omitted all light, giving way only to darkness. Never before had I seen such a display of morbidity within the natural realm. Lying on either side was a waterway acting as a barbaric moat. This was the only way, the corridor of the unknown; into the seeming apparition of life, into the abysmal fog.

    This horrific display of decrepitude had unsettled me greatly. My horse, however, seemed eerily complacent, as if he previously had not been stricken with sheer terror from the very sight of this hellish place. As I entered the tunnel, all that could be heard was the pounding of my pulse within my head, and the heavy breathing of the steed beneath me. The silence that filled this dark, dank channel, created a chilling, ghostly emptiness. The opposing side of the passage gave way to a hole of sullenly illuminated mist, which grew larger as the seconds passed. Still, the ride through the odd tunnel of hideous growth, seemed to last an eternity.

    The nightmarish realm opened to the entrance of the village. Peering through that damned, omnipresent fog, the dilapidated cottages and the vileness within the streets could vaguely be seen. The village seemingly modeled a long lost civilization of ruin, appearing as if it had been abandoned for decades.

    My horse’s hooves clapped and echoed through the hollow, empty, stone streets as I slowly made my way forward. The village was comprised of narrow byways that navigated throughout in a winding, almost serpentine like manner. The further I traversed within, the more pronounced the details of this ruin became. The windows and doors of many dwellings had been destroyed, or all together left open. Fences that had previously held livestock were rendered useless, their gates hung freely in the still air. Bridles hung vacant from the wooden posts which had once secured the animals that had worn them. The village was completely deserted, abandoned by any and all things living. That same haunting stillness, which plagued the surrounding mountains, now lingered amidst this empty, desolate place.

    An unearthly slime, littered the cottages with its filth, and became ever more apparent as I traveled further into the dismal ruin. It had been strewn about the streets and dwellings in a manner characteristically associated with the webbing of arachnids. The thick, black webbing hung freely, like grotesque tinsel, decorating the town in a horrific fashion. The excrement appeared to possess an oily, smooth texture to it and emitted a fetid, rotten odor. I had never seen nor read of anything like it before. Whatever creature this atrocity was born, it was surely not of this world.

    I continued to follow the most prominent street, making my way onward through the ruination. On either side, a cascade of desecrated dwellings littered the earth, and the black spatial webbing became denser as I ventured deeper within. This ever growing veil of hideousness scattered above me like a thunderstorm forming at the brink of twilight. It was nearing noon and the sun had risen far above the mountain floor, yet this hellish place remained a dull, sullen hue of nimbus grey.

    Peering ahead through the dark, thick air I could see the endless blackness shrouding the entirety of the sky above. A church resided in the near distance, and its steeple ascended into the abyss. The house of divinity stood erect in the center of the village acting as the apex of the cataclysmic cobweb. All roads led to this church, which resided on a circular plot of ground. The irony of the webbing spewing forth from this building, much like that of the byways, struck me as oddly peculiar; as if the monstrosity possessed an intelligence comparable, if not superior, to that of man.

    Sitting upon my horse, I looked above to the staggering steeple and the alien-like substance, which wrapped and whorled its morbid entanglement about its peak. The cobweb was spun in all directions, sprawling itself in a maddening descent towards the village. Below the steeple there hung an inverted crucifix, the black webbing suspended from it mockingly. I shuddered at the thought of this devilment being carried forth with purpose, the thing blatantly exposing our inferiority. As I gazed upon the scene of the church in utter bewilderment my eyes befell the most atrocious display of all. Lining the church yard were rows of entombed bodies. The vague gestures in which they lay were the only evidence I had to assume they were human cadavers.

    They were encased, or rather mummified in the arachnid-like excrement. It was wound tightly up to the neck. What I saw protruding from above the coffin-like cocoons resembled nothing of human facial expression. Flesh and tissue were absolutely devoid; their skulls were twisted in a gesture of manufactured fright, of bone that seemed to have been melted and sculpted. Those mangled faces of men, women and children laid there before their house of worship, their agony befalling their mocked God and I stood over them, drowning in sorrow, praying to join them in eternal slumber.

    I stared aimlessly into that desolate world, despondently lost in the damnation, which formed itself in ways man had never seen. The evidence of mankind's future unveiled itself within the mountain vale before me, it was unfathomable but absolute. There was no sanctity here, no salvation from my toiling travels, only death.
    “Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.”
    ― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
    “Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what’s wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.” —Neil Gaiman

  10. #30
    It's reading much better. Job well done
    Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.Hidden Content
    (1903 - 1974)

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