[alex brent]

hi im alex

im aware lots of people have amazing talents as writers
yet i think everyone should have a shot at writing a page or two of their own book (amatuers are welcome!)
so to start it off here's mine


Changed vision


No, nothing really matters in the real world so why does it matter here. The sun is a resemblance of peace, the moon, a flicker of hope and grace. So, what does the modern day mean? Illusion and magic dancing on us, like a clown it laughs, terribly and scowls at anything “normal”.
This is based on the modern day of March 2008. It was written just before the Beijing Olympics.

Trip is far from the ordinary man, he was a child prodigy and at 25 an undiscovered genius. His lack of social skills drives his nearest and dearest insane as his emotions take over his life. After his abused child hood as a victim to his mums alcohol issues and his dad’s industrial rage and “hard love” he was forced into an early retirement as a child and turned to books and arithmetic to escape to a better world. His vocabulary grew but as expected his social abilities fell. By the age of fourteen he was fully prepared to run away to Japan after reading how to speak it fluently but he was caught and brutally punished just as he was boarding. His self confidence lowered and he lost his life…
In his world everyone was the enemy and his only friend was his literature. It’s incredible to think of his position in life now, but the way he got there is even more astonishing. He rose from paper spoon to golden in only 25 years, it started when he was fifteen when he discovered his intellectual prize. After 7 years of constant reading and writing it occurred to him. nothing was out of his intelligent grasp.

well please comment on what you thought and please feel free to enter your own

[Callamai]

Ada's heart pounded wildly against her ribcage and her every breath was laboured. She fell to her knees, glancing toward the moon, as if by some miracle it could save her from her fate. The wind stirred, dancing around the young woman's body, tugging playfully at her wild brown hair. Her dark skin shimmered in the moonlight, illusory and resplendent.Tears welled in her ice blue eyes.

No, she thought, determination spreading through her body like wildfire. It will not end like this.

Ada stood and turned, her face a picture of grim resolve. As she watched the light-touched field, a hoard of men appeared bearing pitchforks and torches.

"Burn the witch!" they shouted with pure, perpetual hatred evident in their voices.

The young woman muttered words under her breath, her body glowing, growing brighter with every passing moment. The slight breeze grew stronger and stronger. Torches went out and the men began to panic.

One man, David, clearly the leader of the group shouted, "Focus, men! Capture the treacherous wench and cut out her witch tongue!"

"Treacherous!?" Ada screamed, outrage bubbling in the pit of her stomach, and the winds grew even stronger. "I did naught but aid your sick and your helpless!"

It was no use, stubborn and thick headed, these men would not listen to one accused of witching. Ada's heart grew heavy, she thought of all the children who had looked at her with such awe, and the women who she had gossiped and laughed with. The man whom she had courted, David.

Then she remembered their faces when she told them of her nature. The children gazed upon her with fear, and women watched her with contempt written plain across their face. David, regarded with cold unerring disgust.
A tear rolled silently down her cheek. How her heart had failed her, and now this is how it was to end.

"Witches every where for all time have only sought to help those without the power to help themselves," Ada screamed, her heart tearing in two. Tears spilled down her cheeks like wild rivers of sorrow and hurt. "And this is how you repay us!? By cutting out our tongues and burning us at the stake!? Well, no more!"

With her last words, the young witch called to her kin...

Hate the humans with all your heart,
Curse them, eat them, pull them apart.
If you want, then bloody well take,
I'm sick of them burning us at the stake.

And with that she burst into flames of a deep purple hue.

ooc: I know, I know the poems corny.:D:rolleyes:

[Callamai]

Oops! Didn't realise how long it was... Sorry!!:o

[alex brent]

that's got to be carried on..

it really draws you in, :)
it's incredible, seriously

[Callamai]

Maybe you should write a part 2 to your story! Yeah!

I think that would be great!

Can't wait to hear it!!:D:D