It was a dark and stormy night~!
Okay, not really, but it occurs to me that lately my writing has taken an interesting twist. I've been writing a lot of Dark or sexual stuff (or both) and I have no idea why. I try and write fluff and all I do is draw a blank.
This includes a story I recently started which I totally blame on jinx1764 I had just finished reading her story Dreams of the Queen (which I highly suggest you read! XD Look Heather, free advertisement and blame XD) which I might mention took me a good half a day to read, if I recall correctly. Anyway, tangean there. Well, certain aspects of the story caught my various muse's interests and now I have a story started that I've named "Rapunzel" for now. So named because an uncouncious survivor has really long hair that probably wasn't cut in years reminding the main guy of the story Rapunzel. Does anyone remember how that story ends? I do, vaguely. And I remember it not being pretty.
Anywho, in case your curious, this Rapunzul is about Tyson who is a soldier who is currently in control of some several hundred people (One of the four leaders, each in control of a different group) of survivors from a WWIII. Radiation is nasty on the surface and they survive below ground, in tunnels. The surface is safe enough at night, as it's sunlight that causes the radiation to rise, as that was what it was made to react too. Otherwise sunrise would be no more dangerous then normal. Sometimes survivors are found or stumble in. They go to radiation chambers to be treated or, if they cannot be cured, killed because it's more of a mercy at that point to kill them quickly then let them, almost literally, melt from inside out. One of the survivors, nicknamed Angel because she's been unconcious and has no identification, should have technically been dead or died without hours when she was brought in. Three days later (when the story starts) she's much closer to healed then she should be (weeks in, instead of days), though she hasn't moved an inch, not even her open eyes having blinked.
Now, you see, Tyson doesn't know it yet but Angel has a small problem. You see, when Angel wakes up she'll have no memory of who she is. Nothing. Well, one thing. She remembers Tyson. *grin* Though she doesn't know why, nor does she really remember him...just his name. And his asking her not to cry, often, though she doesn't remember if she did cry or why.
I'm still playing with it and toying with it though I know exactly who Angel and the Big Bad are. Tyson too, is fairly clear in my mind as is the world though, since I don't normally write sci-fi and since I suck ar sciencey stuff the explainations may make no sense. XD Where is Kaspar when I need him? Oh, yeah, across an ocean. XD
[Very, very rough draft of a part if you curious...]
"How's Angel?” He asked the doctor who was perched, Simon never sat, he perched, always ready to get up and moving again at lightning speed, on his chair reading the incoming data, related to Angel Tyson assumed but he could never be sure. Simon seemed to be ignoring him, but Tyson knew better. Simon knew he was there before he’d even spoke. For a person who wasn’t a soldier or been trained in any kinds of physical arts, he sure paid a lot of attention to his surroundings.
“Well named.” Simon finally said, looking at him. “I have run five times already, and the results are the same each time. That woman,” Simon pointed to the woman lying on the bed in the radiation chamber. “should be dead. There is no way she can be alive and yet…somehow she is.” He shook his head. Angel had stumbled in, only to collapse in on herself within a few steps. One of Simon’s wards had named her “Angel” because she had no identification nor did anyone recognize her but they had found silver feathers laying close to her. Probably a birds, but for now, the name would have to do.
Angel lay on her back, her body one complete straight line, silver eyes open yet unseeing, completely empty of anything. Her hair, the same silvery sheen as her eyes, was even longer than his, making him think of an old child’s tale Rapunzel, though it wasn’t quite that long. “Has she moved at all?” Tyson asked. He had been there when she was brought in.
“Not a blink.” Simon replied, drawing his attention away from the woman. “She has not even blinked. Mind, even if she was aware, and by all accounts she should be nothing more than a vegetable, I seriously doubt she could move!”
“Oh?” Simon was acting just a little crazy. He only did that when he as either a, upset over how a patient was treated, b, upset over what they had done to themselves, or c, completely baffled by results. Obviously C seemed to be winning, but he wondered about A and B.
“When that woman came in her lungs were filled with blood, every bone in her body broken in at least one spot, many of them multiple spots. She was burned with sunburn and some fresh burns, bite marks, whip mark, bruises…shall I go on?” Simon asked. “The lungs along should have choked her to death, but no, somehow she managed to breath despite her bodies inability to and the next couple hours it was gone. She has been tortured and brutalized for, not just months, but years. Yet this morning…this morning I run the tests on her and it says she’s half healed even though we haven’t touched her!”
So it was A and C. “Radiation levels?” Tyson asked.
“Non-existent. Absolutely non-existent. I would have moved her before, but with those bones she must be in horrible pain.” Simon looked at Tyson with an empty stare that said more than his words could. "The kind of pain that would have us screaming constantly. Which is probably why her throat was shot to hell."
And this is why I called my mind Wacky. How can it be anything but when all it is bouncing balls that keep hiting walls and corners?
This includes a story I recently started which I totally blame on jinx1764 I had just finished reading her story Dreams of the Queen (which I highly suggest you read! XD Look Heather, free advertisement and blame XD) which I might mention took me a good half a day to read, if I recall correctly. Anyway, tangean there. Well, certain aspects of the story caught my various muse's interests and now I have a story started that I've named "Rapunzel" for now. So named because an uncouncious survivor has really long hair that probably wasn't cut in years reminding the main guy of the story Rapunzel. Does anyone remember how that story ends? I do, vaguely. And I remember it not being pretty.
Anywho, in case your curious, this Rapunzul is about Tyson who is a soldier who is currently in control of some several hundred people (One of the four leaders, each in control of a different group) of survivors from a WWIII. Radiation is nasty on the surface and they survive below ground, in tunnels. The surface is safe enough at night, as it's sunlight that causes the radiation to rise, as that was what it was made to react too. Otherwise sunrise would be no more dangerous then normal. Sometimes survivors are found or stumble in. They go to radiation chambers to be treated or, if they cannot be cured, killed because it's more of a mercy at that point to kill them quickly then let them, almost literally, melt from inside out. One of the survivors, nicknamed Angel because she's been unconcious and has no identification, should have technically been dead or died without hours when she was brought in. Three days later (when the story starts) she's much closer to healed then she should be (weeks in, instead of days), though she hasn't moved an inch, not even her open eyes having blinked.
Now, you see, Tyson doesn't know it yet but Angel has a small problem. You see, when Angel wakes up she'll have no memory of who she is. Nothing. Well, one thing. She remembers Tyson. *grin* Though she doesn't know why, nor does she really remember him...just his name. And his asking her not to cry, often, though she doesn't remember if she did cry or why.
I'm still playing with it and toying with it though I know exactly who Angel and the Big Bad are. Tyson too, is fairly clear in my mind as is the world though, since I don't normally write sci-fi and since I suck ar sciencey stuff the explainations may make no sense. XD Where is Kaspar when I need him? Oh, yeah, across an ocean. XD
[Very, very rough draft of a part if you curious...]
"How's Angel?” He asked the doctor who was perched, Simon never sat, he perched, always ready to get up and moving again at lightning speed, on his chair reading the incoming data, related to Angel Tyson assumed but he could never be sure. Simon seemed to be ignoring him, but Tyson knew better. Simon knew he was there before he’d even spoke. For a person who wasn’t a soldier or been trained in any kinds of physical arts, he sure paid a lot of attention to his surroundings.
“Well named.” Simon finally said, looking at him. “I have run five times already, and the results are the same each time. That woman,” Simon pointed to the woman lying on the bed in the radiation chamber. “should be dead. There is no way she can be alive and yet…somehow she is.” He shook his head. Angel had stumbled in, only to collapse in on herself within a few steps. One of Simon’s wards had named her “Angel” because she had no identification nor did anyone recognize her but they had found silver feathers laying close to her. Probably a birds, but for now, the name would have to do.
Angel lay on her back, her body one complete straight line, silver eyes open yet unseeing, completely empty of anything. Her hair, the same silvery sheen as her eyes, was even longer than his, making him think of an old child’s tale Rapunzel, though it wasn’t quite that long. “Has she moved at all?” Tyson asked. He had been there when she was brought in.
“Not a blink.” Simon replied, drawing his attention away from the woman. “She has not even blinked. Mind, even if she was aware, and by all accounts she should be nothing more than a vegetable, I seriously doubt she could move!”
“Oh?” Simon was acting just a little crazy. He only did that when he as either a, upset over how a patient was treated, b, upset over what they had done to themselves, or c, completely baffled by results. Obviously C seemed to be winning, but he wondered about A and B.
“When that woman came in her lungs were filled with blood, every bone in her body broken in at least one spot, many of them multiple spots. She was burned with sunburn and some fresh burns, bite marks, whip mark, bruises…shall I go on?” Simon asked. “The lungs along should have choked her to death, but no, somehow she managed to breath despite her bodies inability to and the next couple hours it was gone. She has been tortured and brutalized for, not just months, but years. Yet this morning…this morning I run the tests on her and it says she’s half healed even though we haven’t touched her!”
So it was A and C. “Radiation levels?” Tyson asked.
“Non-existent. Absolutely non-existent. I would have moved her before, but with those bones she must be in horrible pain.” Simon looked at Tyson with an empty stare that said more than his words could. "The kind of pain that would have us screaming constantly. Which is probably why her throat was shot to hell."
And this is why I called my mind Wacky. How can it be anything but when all it is bouncing balls that keep hiting walls and corners?