I'm currently working on a new novel. The one below had about 4 chapters, pm me if you're interested in reading.
You know, some people think they have it hard. They think their life isn’t worth living anymore. Well, they’re wrong and I'm here to tell you why. I was only four when, for one reason or another, my parents abandoned me to this Human Endurance Training Facility. Yes, that's right, they literally got rid of me and you know, it makes me wonder, was I that bad of a kid? Don’t be fooled though it’s not as clear-cut as an ordinary gym. Oh no, no where have I read that ordinary gyms hire guards too force you through the top military training programs weekly. Nor did they mention the beatings you get for disobeying even the simplest of orders. Well at least the 15 to 16 hour study sessions pay off right? You know, memorizing about every tactical situation known to man can have it's benefits right? No, a more suitable name for this place, as I’d learned, was hell. Quite literally or that’s what I think anyway. The truth is I’m not sure if I’m alive or dead anymore. It might have something with me misplacing my sanity around my fourth year here. It’s kind of weird when you know you’re crazy, right?
Imagine yourself in a dark room enclosed by four walls. Somewhere in that room stained to the wall shines a white spot. Now say the darkness is your conscience and the stain your sanity. Everyday your roam about the room naively, exploring it’s endless depths, but no matter how far you wander your always wary of the stain. You grasp it when making even the smallest decisions, right from wrong, do this do that. You’re always embracing it, even when the darkness overwhelms your thoughts (sleep) the stain protects your mind.
Now, imagine yourself in the same room enclosed in naught but darkness, floating around indefinitely and freely, never really aware of where you are or what you are doing, nothing really holding your mind from the natural world, no barrier protecting your thoughts or secrets, total freedom from life’s normal pressures, total freedom from reality itself. It's like having a constant battle with yourself.
Welcome to my head.
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Thread: Prolouge of a very old story.
- 08 Feb. 2010 10:06pm #1
Prolouge of a very old story.
Last edited by HTML; 08 Feb. 2010 at 10:08pm.
- 10 Feb. 2010 08:19pm #2
I like this but it seems a little tripe. It's kind of unoriginal.
Not saying I could do it any better.
But yeah maybe add a little more voice. ^_^
I like it though.LG's Dyke. Enough. Said.
- 11 Feb. 2010 04:02am #3