kryptonitemonkey: (Pie)
Ruthlessly he quashed every memory and slowly walked away forever.

What a squalid hellhole, he thought, gingerly dropping his luggage.

A hushed reverence fell as utter, weighty darkness burst forth.

Fallen leaves crunch as they silently walk, hand in hand.

Peering between raised fingers, he squints into the blinding light.

Shallow depressions mark the only evidence of his long travails.

Fluid melodies pierce the crisp autumn morning air, calling endlessly.

Rivulets run down cupped hands, mixing slightly with salty tears.

Sallow earth dusts lightly as the herd lows and meanders.

Single, icy droplets fall with a mindless determination and gusto.

Small, barely noticed scratches mar the door's surface, crying escape.
kryptonitemonkey: (Pie)
I have an idea that I want to keep for future writin'. Simply put, I was thinking how we sometimes like the sky to a sea/ocean of stars, and it made me ponder what that would be like, to have it be a literal sea upon which to sail. Liquid sky, stars pouring over the oars, stuff like that.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
Quietly oozing, it slinks and slides over the window sill; translucent, neon pink tendrils glowing softly in the darkness. Burbling, bubbling, silently foaming as it pours itself in. Undulating slowly to an unheard and horrifying rhythm, it creeps in past the drapes and down the wall. Its form expands and contracts, coalescing in mentally scarring shapes, fracturing reality in its hideous transitions. Paint corrodes and screams in the wake of the unearthly, slimy trail. A dog, ever the loyal companion, seeing the mind-wrenching thing, foams and shrivels up like a slug under salt, writhing in horrid contractions. A pool of midnight, ebony madness boils furtively where once stood the proud beast. Onward moves the pearlescent abomination, carving swaths of nightmare in the once beautiful floor. The very fabric of reality seems to squirm in an attempt to avoid its eyeless gaze, straining and creaking, warping as it slides, probes, and gushes forth.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
I was rummaging through some old files and found this little snippet that I had written a ways back, and thought I'd post it. It amuses me.

His eyelids feel heavy. It's not really anything important, but it is still an annoyance. A burden of needing sleep, he supposes. One would think heroing and adventuring would come with a good night's sleep from time to time. Not that's he bitter or anything. Okay, he is, but he always feels much more justified when denying it. He's not sure why, exactly. He's too sleepy to think about it now though. He's got a big day ahead of him tomorrow; plenty to worry about without the little things butting in. Though, as fun as facing impending doom and most certain death is, sometimes a little distraction can be allowed. It's always important to stress the small stuff too, else it feel left out or unwanted. He reflects for a moment on the necessity of proper hygiene, er, priorities. He recognizes the importance of proper hygiene too, of course; it's simply a matter of having little in the way of proper sanitary facilities out in the middle of a large and secluded forest, not to mention the lack of clean anything after weeks and months spent traversing dusty road after dusty road. There really should be a law against dusty roads, he thinks. He's not exactly sure how anyone could manage it, but reflects that there is enough magic in the world for someone out there, somewhere, to think up some truly reasonable means of creating some rather lovely, dust-free roads. If he weren't going to his undeniably-certain death tomorrow, well, he would certainly send a letter to Forrud in that really, really, tremendously large city back, what was it, three lands ago? Rapidly looming peril is always such a pain, ruining so many great ideas.

He sighs resolutely and shifts irresolutely in his bedding. The Nome certainly enjoys irony. It's not enough to have to go fight for his life the next day, but he will have to do so groggy and nowhere near his best. Thanks ever so, he grumbles. And there's that bitterness again. Not a terrible lot of it, he admits; he's far too often amused by the irony to ever be too bitter. Though it only slightly aids against the fear; scary, scary fear. He yawns in terror.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
I had a most vivid dream last night. In fact, I have been having very vivid dreams for days now, though last night's seems to be sticking with me more than some of the others. Parts of it were inconsequential, of course, and thus were gone as soon as I awoke, but the important parts seem to be with me still. It involved a young man, a boy at first, who, along with some others, received a dual bladed staff weapon as a gift. It was intricate and more rectangular than circular, but the important thing was that it contained a blade on both ends, which could be capped with the same material as the shaft of the weapon.

The boy grew, honing greatly his skills with the weapon. It seems many young men had such a weapon, for several were sparring with him at one point, though he was far and above the better. At some point, the young man decided to build himself a kind of danger-room, made with some old, advanced technology. Lots of light tubes and whatnot. Once made, the room seemed to be made of liquid darkness, almost living. It could allow for things to come through it, such as enemies, and could move, change shape and solidity.

The most important part of the room was the AI, gotten from who knows where. It had a woman's voice and was highly intelligent, creating challenge after harder challenge for the young man. Then came the day when he reached his peak and managed to defeat her best challenge. And then she presented her finale: she tells him that he must defeat her and the room itself, revealing her sensors and wires and the like. He hesitates, not willing to destroy her. She insists, and he submits, tearing through her with skill.

It was here that another man appears. I think he was supposed to be a friend to the young man, though perhaps not a close one. The young man and his friend hang out in the trashed and sparking room, which doesn't actually seem like a great idea in retrospect. In a friendly wrestling match, the friend accidentally electrocutes the young man, seemingly killing him. The friend flees in panic. The scene ends.

The scene opened with the young man rising to his feet, and if I ever make a story of this, should be bleeding a bit, maybe charred some. There is a sparkle in the air, and AI whom he thought he'd destroyed stands before him. Her face remains the same, while her body shifts between various female forms. Now a fairy, now a warrior; now with short hair, now with long; now with these clothes, now with others. I had the feeling that these were all forms that he had created in the past in this room. The AI woman draws close to him and tells him that if he wants, they can be together forever. He agrees, and they come together. As they come together, she envelopes him in a large cocoon of some substance resembling a solid, opaque rainbow, almost like being in a large, somewhat oily pill. Fade out.

The dream opened again with the friend returning, to see that the young man is not dead. The friend sees him writhing and twitching on the floor, looking as if brain damaged, with muscles contorted. A very slim filament of bright substance is winding it's way all about him, flowing over and around. In a sudden change of character, the friend becomes angry, almost jealous, and in a moment grabs a still sparking wire and shoves it into the two, declaring that they will so die together. The "friend" then storms out. A pause.

There is a twinkle in the air, then a shifting, and the cocoon comes into view. Scene.

I'm not really sure what to think about this dream. I do not really know which ending is real, be it the eternal embrace of the two, or the mental damage and subsequent death of the boy. Words cannot adequately convey the feel of the dream either, be it the disturbing nature of the AI's desires, or why the young man accepted. In the dream, it seemed like he was training for some future need. Not to mention that he did not seem to love her, though he was close and felt comfort, being around her voice so often. The question that struck me when he agreed was why he chose to be with her forever when before he was just using her skills to become his best with the weapon. Nor do I understand why the friend so suddenly turned and willingly killed the young man. The dream has given me many deep questions as to the nature of these characters, and how the heck I could ever try to actually write about them.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
I had an interesting, not to mention very vivid, dream the other night. I don't often feel the need to write down details of my dreams very often, but I feel that it could make for an interesting fic at some later date, so I shall. It will need to be fixed up at some point, as there were transitions in the dream that made sense only in the dream, but overall, I quite find it intriguing.
Contents of a dream )
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
Okay, so like I said, I needed to create a bit, so I just wrote this on a whim. I have no idea where this came from or what the hell is wrong with me, but here it is, the tale of man who flies in his sleep and his grand idea. Written in the form of a messed up fairy tale or child's story. Or whatever.

Sky Sleep )
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
I had an idea pop into my head as I was watching The Fifth Element just now (best movie ever, and anyone who says differently is a damn liar). Specifically, when the enemy is destroyed and is now in earth orbit and looks like a second moon. It made me wonder if it implies that earth's moon is itself a previous evil that got spanked. I love those stories where you read through it thinking you're on some foreign planet, some distant world, and in the very end, the reveal is that it really is earth after all. Think Planet of the Apes, but backward, is my thought; where it's the past and the future is the good one, or something. I love the reveal of the uncommon being the common, or vice-versa. I love the idea of there being no moon until the very end, or there being like three of them and somehow two get destroyed. It's the tale of how did we get here, but done in some new imaginative way. I also love the ones where it seems to be a very advanced civilization, perhaps imploding on itself or in someway coming undone, and in the end it turns out to be the far past and we have no idea that it ever existed. One of my most beloved games reveals near the end that history as they know it is not the original one; that at some point in the future, a research lab was sent into the far past, where it engineered the very structure of the continents. And when an accident occurred, all the future people were forced to go out and inhabit this world, becoming in only a few short generations the early cavemen that were to be the progenitors of the entire human race, thus creating one of those terribly fun time paradoxes.

Thinking of all this makes me want to write something similar, though I'm not entirely sure what. I just have this mental picture of a very young earth with three or five moons, or perhaps even ringed with moons, or something, and a very advanced society that can easily be mistaken for the far future. I picture a villain growing extremely powerful and changing the face of everything, in the end leaving the earth more along the lines of what we know now. I'm not sure whether I would want to leave it so that nothing whatsoever remains, or if the stuff somehow over time slags into the clay pots and such that we find now, or even if there are remains to be found, but only much further in the future; say if we're digging to the earth's core and discover it to me artificial, or surrounded by an enormous machine used for power. It's all terribly exciting to think about.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
"I have not the drive to continue," he remarked sadly.
"I simply do not have it in me, and cannot."
"However shall I continue to write without any impetus?" "Electroshock?"
"Ha, very ha," he sarcastically remarked, "go soak your head."
"I'm shocked that you would say such a thing. Shocked!"
"Yes, well, you will be with the toaster along side."
"Not if it jams. Don't be so burnt out, now."
"Punny, very punny," he smirks, "but don't butter me up."
"Wouldn't dream of it, that'd be just nuts...bananas too."

I can't think of anymore puns, so I'm quitting now.
It's a shame, really. Could have been quite a laugh.
Ah well, such is life and all that, yes? No?!
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
I know, sigh. Boy's got nothing more interesting to do.

Interestingly enough, that explanation too was ten words. Crazy, no?

I should just start talking in ten word phrases now.

What do you think? Is it madness, brilliance, or boredom?

Each thought self-contained, yet expressing of the whole.

Should a hyphenated word be considered two words, or one?

Feeling a bit mad, he ran off on a tangent.

No one ever saw him again, save everyone who did.

When in doubt, throw a fit, scream and shout, yes?

Listening to OK Go is hard to write poetry to.

When suddenly, more like eventually, she sat there, aimlessly idling about.

Spinning in place, contemplatively staring as the ceiling twirls by.

A beckoning shout ringingly echoes in the frigid morning air.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
Like a monkey, little Joey loved to fling his poo.

Once upon a time, in a little village, a girl.

Filled with remorse for his atrocities, Noran momentarily stopped whistling.

"I can fly!" screamed the future pancake as he fell.

"No you can't!" laughed the hungry and amused little crow.

The screams reverberated, piercingly, echoing madness; the dentist finishes up.

"What a pity," he remarked, "he did so love rhinos."

Face to face they glare unceasingly, challenging, baby versus rhino.

"Rhino? Really?" yells Spiderman, "Don't you know hippos *beat* rhinos?"

His face a mass of blood, he grins in triumph.

Gallons of bleach will clean anything, even this black sofa!

No perfume will rid us of this stench...your mom!

Will nothing we do ever rid us...of your mom? (sorry couldn't resist these last two)
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
The girl walks the halls, never stopping, ever moving on.

He runs at every chance; soon they'll take his legs.

He values his thumbs, but more so his lucrative liver.

Warmly drenches the ruddy sun upon the lonely stone wall.

His laughing gaze languidly shifts to her golden specked eyes.

Burning through the night, the fire peaks in roaring maelstrom.

Eyes burn with acid tears falling too quickly to number.

Lullabies quiver in the midnight air like peals of laughter.

Liquid light pours from the tipping tureen, blazing and rich.

Colors bleed and blend, blurring in swift and lurid patterns.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
Dirt crunching expectantly, he slowly fills the too deep hole.

Once there was a time for such things; no more.

Feel you the changing current? I think he just farted...

When the wind blows he can hear her calling still.

He furiously devours the pages, one crunch at a time.

The juices flow and he feels the words bleed out.

"Oh look," he exclaimed, "the walls are bleeding! How novel!"
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
Feeling alone, his breath wafts lazily across the barren wind.

"Dear sweet monkey," he curses as he spits and dies.

"Shall I compare thee to a winter's day, frigid bitch?"

Ever languidly aloft floats the delighted and joyous dust speck.

"I do believe my hand is missing!" he called suddenly.

When suddenly, a massive tide of fur enveloped the ridge.

"Please sir," she cried, "stay! For I must kill you!"
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
"Save me!" he sobs as the bunny nuzzles his arm.

Slowly, so slowly, he inches his hand toward his sword.

As she watches, the slime devours her friend, then turns...

With a triumphant rallying call, they charge into the darkness.

Falling upon his swift blade, the creature looks briefly shocked.

Calling upon the might of Thor, Tretten grabs his hammer.

Calling upon the might of kittens, George dies quite swiftly.

Not knowing what to say, the man simply stares, horrified.

I don't think I have exactly enough of what might work thus far, but it occurs to me that one could cobble together quite a few interesting stories centered around these various 10 word stories I find myself enjoying. I think that once I make a few more, at least, I could attempt to puzzle some of 'em together. At the very least it could be like a really bizarre mad libs.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
A gate of liquid light, sending travelers across the stars.

"If I eat a tree," he said, "will you, too?"

The purple man draped himself over her car in protest.

Feeling frisky, he tied her boot strings to a leopard.

The green hills called to him, but his phone died.

Cursing his luck, he scrambles up the wall of organs.

Feeling rather drowsy, she closes her eyes in sweet repose.

"But if it melts," he mumbled, "how will I cheat?"

A hundred words bubbled up, only to be quashed again.

Her pen filling with jello, she dotted her last i.

Sleeping fitfully, the cat did not notice the house exploding.

Drippingly, muckfully oozes the rancid milk slowly over the brim.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
"Posting too much, you say?" he asked inquiringly, "Why, yes."

Potions for sale. Will cost only your health to acquire.

"This troll's blood is delicious!" he exclaimed, "but needs salt."

One day, Pinocchio became a real boy, starving them both.

Then they all burst into song, ignoring the oncoming traffic.

"Woe!" he cried, "my dog is dead, but not I!"

For whom tolls the bell? I think it's that guy.

In that instant, all was still, and all calm again.

Shining down, the sun glaring, hitting his eyes, he tripped.

How the hell did a spider have a sword?! Magic!

It was not I! I ate only one child today!

Writhing in agony, cursing the drink...but mostly the concussion.

In splendid colors flowers bloom, my allergies aflame with joy...

He spent his nights alone, killing spiders for the silk.

His soul shattered, adrift on the wind, see him weep.

Soul stone long gone, he flees like a little girl.

His oiled beard glistens in the wind, distracting from baldness.

"Preposterous," he huffs, "there's no such thing as a dragon!"
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
Many fic ideas have been circulating in my head of late that I must sooner or later regurgitate onto paper. However, in the interest of my ideas, I have to wonder how much it has been done, and how well. My question is this: has anyone ever read any sci-fi/fantasy fics that take place in the future but wherein still exists magic and the gods? I have read one or two pieces, but it inevitably turns out that the magic is simply very advanced scientific creation and the gods are merely super-advanced beings, be they human or alien. For some some reason, most sci-fi precludes the presence of any sort of true divinity in the supernatural form of the word, but I don't think that it has to be that way at all. In fact, I find it rather silly to think that finding out how things works eliminates the reason why they work.

Or, taken another way, how much writing has been done on a fantasy setting taken into the future? What happens when a technological society has its basis in magic? Twould make for much more interesting star travel if a spaceship's drive were powered or enhanced by a pilot-mage. Does magic, by its very essence, necessitate a connection with nature and thus a repulsion of the mechanical? If a society, in general, has easy access to magic, would it ever turn to mechanical things? I don't say science, for magic and science are very similar, save for the conservation of energy at times, and even when magic does conserve energy, life-force is often a very powerful energy. Perhaps it is cliché, but maybe a society would have to already be a ways along the scientific/mechanical path before (re)discovering magic.

I have this one image in my head of a future society discovering that the gods were, in fact, real, but had had a longstanding bet amongst themselves as to how long it would take the fools to realize it. It amuses me much to think of the lectures in the classrooms then. A classroom, very futuristic, with the teacher discussing how, thanks to such and such god, star travel was made possible, or how a particular trickster god started the intergalactic war of 3012...


Sep. 25th, 2007 10:14 am
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
Build the Robots )

I may go back and overhaul this at some point, but for the moment I'm just glad that I actually finished something I've started writing. And it's not terrible either.
kryptonitemonkey: (Default)
Listening to a Dr. Steel song called build the robots (a fanvid made to the song here) and it gave me a very intriguing idea for a short fic. I'm sure it's been done before, but I've never seen it done exactly as it has struck my brain, so perhaps I shall yet write it. The song asks what you would do if your family were attacked, and follows with the main theme being to do nothing but build robots all day long. What struck my brain is the image of a man feverishly building robots, every moment spent fearing for what will happen should "they" find him before he builds enough, fearing for his family. That image in of itself is interesting, but it is the reveal at the end that has me so intrigued. I'm not really sure how to implement it, but I envision (with or without clues along the way, I'm not sure) the startling reveal at the end to be that the man is actually a (truly) mad scientist. The enemies he so fears, the ones who will destroy mankind and enslave everyone, who will destroy his family and end his very freedom, are in fact the good guys. I see too that his family would not truly exist, save perhaps his very robots he builds, or perhaps he envisions his family to be all of mankind, I'm not really sure yet.

Regardless, I'm drawn to the picture I so vividly gathered from the song. Few, if any, villains ever see themselves as evil. Usually it is from twisted or perverted sense of good that they do what they do. This particular idea so captures me because at first, we can identify with this guy. Think War of the Worlds (I absolutely abhor the new one, but I can still use it for a good point) where Tom Cruise will do anything to save his kids. Any movie with a parent in it and children really. Think of a man struggling so hard, and think of the surrounding view to be one of chaos and disaster, as if aliens are invading and this man's last hope, for himself, his family, and all of mankind, is to finish enough robots to defeat the enemy. We always see these maniacal, super-powerful enemies who rely on cold intellect and power, like Lex Luthor or most Bond villains. We don't often see those enemies who try as hard as any hero because they fervently believe that what they believe is right. A lioness will kill a man if she thinks he's a danger to her cubs, regardless of whether he means harm or not. Not that I find the position a correct one, but I like the idea of so empathizing with a man before finding out that he's trying to destroy all that is good because he is crazy.
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