By the way, if you love talking about the meaning of life, dreams, thoeries, philosophy or that sort of thing you should definitely go see Waking Life. It is by far the best movie ever made. Even the animation is thought provoking...! It will redefine the now.
Watch it for free, legally, and all at once, no download required or anything, instantly, here:
http://video.google.com/videosearch?q=waking+life&hl=en&emb=0&aq=f#
If the link does not work just go to Google.com and choose "videos" in the upper left hand corner then type in "Waking Life" in the search box and Viola! The movie should be in a box to your right.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Just some things I found on the web...
I was websurfing and I found a lot of interesting articles that I'd like to share with the world. (Or reshare, considering they are already on the internet) Here we go:
DEATH
The end point of your life after which there is complete darkness, you don't know where you are, with whom you are and how you are? We feel pain till we live, after which we don't have the sense to feel. It's a fact that death is the cycle of life, where life ends, death takes over and we don't know the phase of this stage. We feel fear to accept the fact of death, but death never feels anything while meeting you and taking you along with her.
You have to believe this, who has taken birth has to go one day and your fear to accept this fact, will make you die before your death. If you believe in this fact, you will accept your death happily and that makes you more competent to understand the meaning of it.
Life is temporary but death is permanent. You do, or try to do, every style of malpractices with your work, for you and for the betterment of your life, irrespective of thinking that for which you are thinking most, by every mean, has a very temporary standing, that is your life.
You don't know about your tomorrow, what could happen with you, with your life, it's totally unclear to everyone about his tomorrow. Life is definitely going to ditch you, either today or tomorrow but death will never ditch you, because it does not have a reversible phase from death to life again. Once dead you have to be in death mode always and even if you try or think to come out of it, you cannot. If this is a fact and it is being clear to you then try to live your life, in total.
A meaningful life has a fragrance of love, faith and trust and you will never think of wasting, even a minute of your precious life. It is better to discuss and think more of life because we don't have much to discuss about death. In life, we have sense, feeling of pain, love and everything, if we think, we are living otherwise you can feel that without these your life has no meaning.
Before death, I want to think only about my life so that; my life gives me lots of love and care, to make me feel that I have lived a full and meaningful life till my end. It takes years to make a person stand on his feet's but a killer mind makes him dead, in a minute, this is called the premature death and the person having no sense or pain while killing others is considered to be living with a retarded mind, a dead without emotions.
You can do anything or everything, when you are living, you can change yourself for the sake of others, you can try to make them change, for yourself, so try with your every effort, in your living mode otherwise you will feel regret at the time of death. You can have a desire that you want to live every minute of your life, till your end and feel alive at the time of death.
I post more later. Night!
DEATH
The end point of your life after which there is complete darkness, you don't know where you are, with whom you are and how you are? We feel pain till we live, after which we don't have the sense to feel. It's a fact that death is the cycle of life, where life ends, death takes over and we don't know the phase of this stage. We feel fear to accept the fact of death, but death never feels anything while meeting you and taking you along with her.
You have to believe this, who has taken birth has to go one day and your fear to accept this fact, will make you die before your death. If you believe in this fact, you will accept your death happily and that makes you more competent to understand the meaning of it.
Life is temporary but death is permanent. You do, or try to do, every style of malpractices with your work, for you and for the betterment of your life, irrespective of thinking that for which you are thinking most, by every mean, has a very temporary standing, that is your life.
You don't know about your tomorrow, what could happen with you, with your life, it's totally unclear to everyone about his tomorrow. Life is definitely going to ditch you, either today or tomorrow but death will never ditch you, because it does not have a reversible phase from death to life again. Once dead you have to be in death mode always and even if you try or think to come out of it, you cannot. If this is a fact and it is being clear to you then try to live your life, in total.
A meaningful life has a fragrance of love, faith and trust and you will never think of wasting, even a minute of your precious life. It is better to discuss and think more of life because we don't have much to discuss about death. In life, we have sense, feeling of pain, love and everything, if we think, we are living otherwise you can feel that without these your life has no meaning.
Before death, I want to think only about my life so that; my life gives me lots of love and care, to make me feel that I have lived a full and meaningful life till my end. It takes years to make a person stand on his feet's but a killer mind makes him dead, in a minute, this is called the premature death and the person having no sense or pain while killing others is considered to be living with a retarded mind, a dead without emotions.
You can do anything or everything, when you are living, you can change yourself for the sake of others, you can try to make them change, for yourself, so try with your every effort, in your living mode otherwise you will feel regret at the time of death. You can have a desire that you want to live every minute of your life, till your end and feel alive at the time of death.
I post more later. Night!
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Hey guys! :D Wewt new installment <3
I know I haven't posted in like 2 months but that's because al my spare time I've been putting into my book. Okay, maybe I was on Gaiaonline for awhile too, but hey! -_-;; Anyways, so I'm up to about chapter ten in my book...each chapter is about 8 MSword pages, with translated to about 16 in book form. I'm very excited. :3 Now that summer is here I have a ton of time to finish up writing the first book. It's like my lifeblood. I pretty much sleep, eat and breathe my books. Every spare second I have is translated into coming up with new plots of story lines and writing it all down...which is rather tedious considering what a perfectionist I am D: lol, anyways, here ya go, a little more of the book to satiate your appetites. :3
But really, I know pretty much nobody views this blog...I just don't care :D
Okay, so this is the actual beginning of the book, but it's a little bit boring compared to the epicness of the battle I just wrote about in the intro because it's just about Allen... oh well. ^_^ Enjoy!
-SCENE 1 (Birth)-
-CHAPTER 1-
Allen Collins sat at his desk in Virginia High school, half awake and barely taking in what his AP European teacher was saying. Something something…monarchy project…something…due Monday…something…blah. How had he even gotten into this class? Oh… right. His mom had pushed his last Global teacher until he’d finally recommended him for it. Yeah—thanks mom. It wasn’t like he wanted to be in this stupid class anyways… Besides, who cared that it was Advanced Placement instead of regular European history? I mean, Come on. It’s was just two little letters anyways! An A and a P. Why did having those on his report card really matter all that much? Eh. Whatever. It’s not like he was planning on going to Harvard or anything. His light blue eyes drifted out the window to the trees rustling in the warm breeze and the heat waves rising off the cars baking in the sun. Why are people so interested in history anyways…? It’s dead; gone. People shouldn’t worry so much about the past. The present is what it is; they should just live for the future.
Oops, that was the bell.
Huh. Wonder how long Teach has been talking for?
He shrugged. Oh well. He’d just catch up on the project with Conner tonight. Hey- that what friends are for, right? Swapping agendas and copying homework. He chuckled to himself as he grabbed his books and headed to algebra.
Back at home though, Allen found there was more than one flaw in that plan. Conner apparently had to leave school early to get to the airport in time to catch a plane to Manhattan. Turned out his Aunt just found out she had stomach cancer and Conner’s mom wanted the whole family to go visit her before chemo started. So, right now, Conner was somewhere over Pennsylvania, probably trying desperately to ignore the screaming baby in the row behind him while simultaneously attempting to hold a subliminally provocative conversation with the pretty girl in the window seat. LoL…he could totally picture that happening. It would be so like Conner too. Ignoring what was wrong in his life and replacing it with big dreams and impossible, eccentric plans. Oh God, Conner. He thought. Don’t go getting yourself mugged in New York, dude.
But, getting back to reality here, he really did have to find out what was up with that freaking Euro report. Cause, if he didn’t get his priorities straight for the night, he knew he’d end up playing Half-life tm or something on his computer till two in the morning. Like last Tuesday. Man, he’d learned never to do that again. Three hours sleep just did NOT cut it for school. Anyways, he had to call somebody or something. Otherwise he was gonna have absolutely no idea what they were supposed to do. Problem was, he really didn’t remember the names of anybody else in his Euro class. Usually that was the period he just zoned out in. It was two periods after his lunch, so he had a bad habit of dozing off. Basically, he was in a jam. He didn’t know who to call and for God’s sake he was NOT calling his teacher. Nope, he was just gonna chill till tomorrow and ask for, like, maybe a project grading sheet or something… Wait a second-- teach definitely passed something out in class today. Maybe-? He opened up his history binder and rifled through the contents. Yup, there it is. He thought pulling out a crinkled piece of paper. Coolio. He could totally do this now. Okay, where to start? Monarch project…120 points…blah blah blah…wait—what!? What the hell?? 120 points!? That’s like…two test grades put together! WTF!? he thought reading on. Crap. Well…okay, maybe this isn’t THAT bad… he decided. All he needed to do was type up a five hundred word essay on…Let’s see…the structure of an absolutist monarchy and the most famous examples of it. Alright, he could do that. He just needed to go to Google real quick and find some good articles to glean facts off of.
Unfortunately, as he booted up his computer-- the pride of his possessions which he had spent hundreds on turning into a lean, mean, gaming machine—he found out that it wouldn’t load Microsoft. Great. Well, now his only choice was to go to the library or something. Sheesh, that was, like, WAY too old-school for his tastes. He had other things to do for God’s sake! But…he really did need to do this project on time; his AP European grade was slipping farther than he would’ve liked. It seemed he really didn’t have a choice. It was May now, and he only had a few precious weeks to get his grades up before they were set in stone. He supposed that explained why the assignment was worth so much. He was only 15 and couldn’t drive yet, and nobody was home right now, so he took his bike instead. His light brown hair disappeared as he shoved on a crimson baseball hat. He put up the kickstand and sped down the driveway headed north.
He glanced at the houses as he passed them by; the sky blue house with the white trimming, with the swing set in the backyard and a beer cooler in the garage… The cookie-cutter housing complex that boasted it’s eco-friendly designs, that people flocked to get closer to nature; the one that they’d cut down most of the forest to build. The park where the little children played in the sandboxes and the homeless men slept at night. The sign that proclaimed in large, bold letters,
“Welcome to West Virginia, the greatest place on Earth!”.
He really had no idea why he knew how to get to the library; it wasn’t like he actually went there or anything. He was a jock through and through; he wore his favorite sky blue jersey— lucky number forty-eight—almost every day, and had a thing for twisting his cap backwards. Well, okay, maybe his obsession with sci-fi computer gaming didn’t exactly fit the stereotype, but still. Pedaling at light speed, he reached his destination in no time. He sighed with relief as he opened the door and was met by a rush of cool air. Man that felt good. Walking around a little he found a section on historical novels, but he didn’t really see anything that could help him. It was a small library anyways, just one of the little dusty buildings so typical of small towns. He rolled his eyes and went up to the front desk.
“Hey, do you, like…have some really old books? No—I mean, like, about the Middle Ages ‘n stuff.”
The librarian looked him in square in the eyes and cocked her head. She was a pretty girl, and looked to be a few years older than him. He got lost in her big brown eyes and they stood quietly regarding each other for a moment.
“Oh—you mean around the 1400’s?”
“Uh...yeah. Research project.” He explained.
“I see…” she answered digging around in a drawer. “Here’s a key to the back room—it’s where they—we--keep the public records, but I think there are some shelves with out of date books there too. If you couldn’t find what you were looking for out front then it might be in there.” She said pleasantly, handing him a big old-fashioned key that looked like it could be a hundred years old or so. Knowing this town, that was quite possible. Sometimes it felt like you could get lost in this place, turn the wrong corner and end up in the 17th century. He grabbed it out of her outstretched palm, which was unusually cold.
Allen walked to the back of the library and found a doorknob that looked to be in the same disrepair as the key. Turning it in the lock, the door swung open and he nearly coughed up a lung from the dust. Jeez—did they ever come back here and clean since this place got bought!? It was actually pretty creepy… the only light was one of those really crappy old single bulb fixtures with a rusty pull chain in the middle of the room. He practically tripped over the piles of books trying to get to it. Pulling the string, the light flickered on and off a few times before it finally stayed lit. After taking a good look around he found a bookcase with ‘out of print’ scrawled on a yellowed piece of ratty masking tape stuck sideways on the topmost shelf. Scanning the titles with his fingers, he picked out a few that might help him. After a few minutes of him flipping the pages, the librarian came in again; long orange hair bouncing and the ruffles on her light blue dress rippling, and she asked politely if he had found anything of use. Yes; possibly, he replied. “That’s good.” She smiled warmly. He blushed. She was kinda cute… she turned to leave, but part of him secretly wanted her to stay. “Um—“he said, fumbling around for a topic of conversation; anything to keep her here a little longer. His eyes darted around the room trying to find something interesting to talk about. His gaze rested upon a big glass case in the corner; inside lay a gigantic old book with tattered edges and a leather binding. “…What’s in that case over there?” he asked her. “That? Oh. That used to be on display in the front a long time ago, but the woman who worked here lost the key to the case, so they--we decided to keep it back here. The book in there used to be the pride of the library because it was so old…but nobody really has any idea what it’s about because nobody’s ever tried to get it open since the locks really old too. I guess it’s just gonna sit there until somebody finds a way to get it open.” She shrugged. “But hey; if you can find the key I bet… my employer… will let you take a look at it.”
“Oh. Huh.” He said. “That’s kind of…creepy, but sure, I could totally help you look for it sometime.” Any excuse to spend time with her was a good excuse. “You know what?” she said laughing, “That sounds like fun. We should get together sometime.” He couldn’t tell if she was just egging him on or if she was being totally serious, but her voice was so sweet it melted any doubts he had. He sat there in a trance until she walked away giggling and twirling one of the strange of her hair; her foot kicking up the edge of the dirty green carpet. The sound of the door shutting brought him back to the present. He walked over to the corner and brushed away the dust. It looked like the book had been through Hell and back; the cover was dirty and it seemed as though if you touched it the thing would just disintegrate. He bent down and examined the case. It was really weird looking, part wood and part glass, with a sturdy but rusted metal frame holding it together. He ran his finger across the little golden plaque—‘The Lost Tome’ it read. Oh wow. That was certainly informative he thought laughing to himself.
As he stepped back to leave, he tripped on the edge of the carpeting and knocked into a bookcase. One of the larger books fell from the shelf and hit him on the head as he stumbled forward.
He awoke in a daze a few minutes later, unsure of what had just happened. He’d fallen down underneath the podium shaped case when he had been knocked unconscious. He looked up wondering if he’d gotten a concussion from this, and suddenly noticed a little cut out hole on the underneath the case. The bottom part of the case was made of wood, and it looked like somebody had cut a big chunk out of it for no reason. Huh. That’s weird he thought getting to his feet. He brushed some of the dust off his clothes and peered under the case. He cocked his head and stuck his finger up underneath it, feeling around beneath the velvet cloth inside the display case. His finger touched something cold and metallic, and he grasped it and worked it out of the hole. In his hand he held a rusty little key. Attached to it on a string was a little tag with a nothing but a simple pentagram. He raised his eyebrows. Okaaaay… that’s a little…odd… he thought. Wait-
He stuck it into the little key hole on the case. It went in all the way; he turned it to the left. It didn’t get far in that direction. He turned it to the right.
Click.
The top swung open.
Whoever worked there before had hidden the key themselves.
Totally forgetting about the project he was supposed to be researching for, Allen grabbed the book and raced out to show the librarian.
She was nowhere to be found.
He called out for her a few times but she did not answer. He looked down at the book in his arms. At first he was just using the excuse of finding it to get closer to her; she was a pretty little thing, but now he was genuinely curious. He really did want to see what was written in there. Well...she had said he could take a look at it if he found the key so…
Shrugging, he walked out of the building with it and pedaled back home.
_____
But really, I know pretty much nobody views this blog...I just don't care :D
Okay, so this is the actual beginning of the book, but it's a little bit boring compared to the epicness of the battle I just wrote about in the intro because it's just about Allen... oh well. ^_^ Enjoy!
-SCENE 1 (Birth)-
-CHAPTER 1-
Allen Collins sat at his desk in Virginia High school, half awake and barely taking in what his AP European teacher was saying. Something something…monarchy project…something…due Monday…something…blah. How had he even gotten into this class? Oh… right. His mom had pushed his last Global teacher until he’d finally recommended him for it. Yeah—thanks mom. It wasn’t like he wanted to be in this stupid class anyways… Besides, who cared that it was Advanced Placement instead of regular European history? I mean, Come on. It’s was just two little letters anyways! An A and a P. Why did having those on his report card really matter all that much? Eh. Whatever. It’s not like he was planning on going to Harvard or anything. His light blue eyes drifted out the window to the trees rustling in the warm breeze and the heat waves rising off the cars baking in the sun. Why are people so interested in history anyways…? It’s dead; gone. People shouldn’t worry so much about the past. The present is what it is; they should just live for the future.
Oops, that was the bell.
Huh. Wonder how long Teach has been talking for?
He shrugged. Oh well. He’d just catch up on the project with Conner tonight. Hey- that what friends are for, right? Swapping agendas and copying homework. He chuckled to himself as he grabbed his books and headed to algebra.
Back at home though, Allen found there was more than one flaw in that plan. Conner apparently had to leave school early to get to the airport in time to catch a plane to Manhattan. Turned out his Aunt just found out she had stomach cancer and Conner’s mom wanted the whole family to go visit her before chemo started. So, right now, Conner was somewhere over Pennsylvania, probably trying desperately to ignore the screaming baby in the row behind him while simultaneously attempting to hold a subliminally provocative conversation with the pretty girl in the window seat. LoL…he could totally picture that happening. It would be so like Conner too. Ignoring what was wrong in his life and replacing it with big dreams and impossible, eccentric plans. Oh God, Conner. He thought. Don’t go getting yourself mugged in New York, dude.
But, getting back to reality here, he really did have to find out what was up with that freaking Euro report. Cause, if he didn’t get his priorities straight for the night, he knew he’d end up playing Half-life tm or something on his computer till two in the morning. Like last Tuesday. Man, he’d learned never to do that again. Three hours sleep just did NOT cut it for school. Anyways, he had to call somebody or something. Otherwise he was gonna have absolutely no idea what they were supposed to do. Problem was, he really didn’t remember the names of anybody else in his Euro class. Usually that was the period he just zoned out in. It was two periods after his lunch, so he had a bad habit of dozing off. Basically, he was in a jam. He didn’t know who to call and for God’s sake he was NOT calling his teacher. Nope, he was just gonna chill till tomorrow and ask for, like, maybe a project grading sheet or something… Wait a second-- teach definitely passed something out in class today. Maybe-? He opened up his history binder and rifled through the contents. Yup, there it is. He thought pulling out a crinkled piece of paper. Coolio. He could totally do this now. Okay, where to start? Monarch project…120 points…blah blah blah…wait—what!? What the hell?? 120 points!? That’s like…two test grades put together! WTF!? he thought reading on. Crap. Well…okay, maybe this isn’t THAT bad… he decided. All he needed to do was type up a five hundred word essay on…Let’s see…the structure of an absolutist monarchy and the most famous examples of it. Alright, he could do that. He just needed to go to Google real quick and find some good articles to glean facts off of.
Unfortunately, as he booted up his computer-- the pride of his possessions which he had spent hundreds on turning into a lean, mean, gaming machine—he found out that it wouldn’t load Microsoft. Great. Well, now his only choice was to go to the library or something. Sheesh, that was, like, WAY too old-school for his tastes. He had other things to do for God’s sake! But…he really did need to do this project on time; his AP European grade was slipping farther than he would’ve liked. It seemed he really didn’t have a choice. It was May now, and he only had a few precious weeks to get his grades up before they were set in stone. He supposed that explained why the assignment was worth so much. He was only 15 and couldn’t drive yet, and nobody was home right now, so he took his bike instead. His light brown hair disappeared as he shoved on a crimson baseball hat. He put up the kickstand and sped down the driveway headed north.
He glanced at the houses as he passed them by; the sky blue house with the white trimming, with the swing set in the backyard and a beer cooler in the garage… The cookie-cutter housing complex that boasted it’s eco-friendly designs, that people flocked to get closer to nature; the one that they’d cut down most of the forest to build. The park where the little children played in the sandboxes and the homeless men slept at night. The sign that proclaimed in large, bold letters,
“Welcome to West Virginia, the greatest place on Earth!”.
He really had no idea why he knew how to get to the library; it wasn’t like he actually went there or anything. He was a jock through and through; he wore his favorite sky blue jersey— lucky number forty-eight—almost every day, and had a thing for twisting his cap backwards. Well, okay, maybe his obsession with sci-fi computer gaming didn’t exactly fit the stereotype, but still. Pedaling at light speed, he reached his destination in no time. He sighed with relief as he opened the door and was met by a rush of cool air. Man that felt good. Walking around a little he found a section on historical novels, but he didn’t really see anything that could help him. It was a small library anyways, just one of the little dusty buildings so typical of small towns. He rolled his eyes and went up to the front desk.
“Hey, do you, like…have some really old books? No—I mean, like, about the Middle Ages ‘n stuff.”
The librarian looked him in square in the eyes and cocked her head. She was a pretty girl, and looked to be a few years older than him. He got lost in her big brown eyes and they stood quietly regarding each other for a moment.
“Oh—you mean around the 1400’s?”
“Uh...yeah. Research project.” He explained.
“I see…” she answered digging around in a drawer. “Here’s a key to the back room—it’s where they—we--keep the public records, but I think there are some shelves with out of date books there too. If you couldn’t find what you were looking for out front then it might be in there.” She said pleasantly, handing him a big old-fashioned key that looked like it could be a hundred years old or so. Knowing this town, that was quite possible. Sometimes it felt like you could get lost in this place, turn the wrong corner and end up in the 17th century. He grabbed it out of her outstretched palm, which was unusually cold.
Allen walked to the back of the library and found a doorknob that looked to be in the same disrepair as the key. Turning it in the lock, the door swung open and he nearly coughed up a lung from the dust. Jeez—did they ever come back here and clean since this place got bought!? It was actually pretty creepy… the only light was one of those really crappy old single bulb fixtures with a rusty pull chain in the middle of the room. He practically tripped over the piles of books trying to get to it. Pulling the string, the light flickered on and off a few times before it finally stayed lit. After taking a good look around he found a bookcase with ‘out of print’ scrawled on a yellowed piece of ratty masking tape stuck sideways on the topmost shelf. Scanning the titles with his fingers, he picked out a few that might help him. After a few minutes of him flipping the pages, the librarian came in again; long orange hair bouncing and the ruffles on her light blue dress rippling, and she asked politely if he had found anything of use. Yes; possibly, he replied. “That’s good.” She smiled warmly. He blushed. She was kinda cute… she turned to leave, but part of him secretly wanted her to stay. “Um—“he said, fumbling around for a topic of conversation; anything to keep her here a little longer. His eyes darted around the room trying to find something interesting to talk about. His gaze rested upon a big glass case in the corner; inside lay a gigantic old book with tattered edges and a leather binding. “…What’s in that case over there?” he asked her. “That? Oh. That used to be on display in the front a long time ago, but the woman who worked here lost the key to the case, so they--we decided to keep it back here. The book in there used to be the pride of the library because it was so old…but nobody really has any idea what it’s about because nobody’s ever tried to get it open since the locks really old too. I guess it’s just gonna sit there until somebody finds a way to get it open.” She shrugged. “But hey; if you can find the key I bet… my employer… will let you take a look at it.”
“Oh. Huh.” He said. “That’s kind of…creepy, but sure, I could totally help you look for it sometime.” Any excuse to spend time with her was a good excuse. “You know what?” she said laughing, “That sounds like fun. We should get together sometime.” He couldn’t tell if she was just egging him on or if she was being totally serious, but her voice was so sweet it melted any doubts he had. He sat there in a trance until she walked away giggling and twirling one of the strange of her hair; her foot kicking up the edge of the dirty green carpet. The sound of the door shutting brought him back to the present. He walked over to the corner and brushed away the dust. It looked like the book had been through Hell and back; the cover was dirty and it seemed as though if you touched it the thing would just disintegrate. He bent down and examined the case. It was really weird looking, part wood and part glass, with a sturdy but rusted metal frame holding it together. He ran his finger across the little golden plaque—‘The Lost Tome’ it read. Oh wow. That was certainly informative he thought laughing to himself.
As he stepped back to leave, he tripped on the edge of the carpeting and knocked into a bookcase. One of the larger books fell from the shelf and hit him on the head as he stumbled forward.
He awoke in a daze a few minutes later, unsure of what had just happened. He’d fallen down underneath the podium shaped case when he had been knocked unconscious. He looked up wondering if he’d gotten a concussion from this, and suddenly noticed a little cut out hole on the underneath the case. The bottom part of the case was made of wood, and it looked like somebody had cut a big chunk out of it for no reason. Huh. That’s weird he thought getting to his feet. He brushed some of the dust off his clothes and peered under the case. He cocked his head and stuck his finger up underneath it, feeling around beneath the velvet cloth inside the display case. His finger touched something cold and metallic, and he grasped it and worked it out of the hole. In his hand he held a rusty little key. Attached to it on a string was a little tag with a nothing but a simple pentagram. He raised his eyebrows. Okaaaay… that’s a little…odd… he thought. Wait-
He stuck it into the little key hole on the case. It went in all the way; he turned it to the left. It didn’t get far in that direction. He turned it to the right.
Click.
The top swung open.
Whoever worked there before had hidden the key themselves.
Totally forgetting about the project he was supposed to be researching for, Allen grabbed the book and raced out to show the librarian.
She was nowhere to be found.
He called out for her a few times but she did not answer. He looked down at the book in his arms. At first he was just using the excuse of finding it to get closer to her; she was a pretty little thing, but now he was genuinely curious. He really did want to see what was written in there. Well...she had said he could take a look at it if he found the key so…
Shrugging, he walked out of the building with it and pedaled back home.
_____
Thursday, May 7, 2009
You know what's hilarious?
The acronym I use for my book series is TPK, short for, of coure, The Paper King. I just found out, however; that TPK is also an acronym for "Total Party Kill" used in role-playing games like Dungeons and Dragons (which I love by the way :3). "Put simpler, everybody is dead" -Urbandictionary.com
lol <3
The ironic thing is that so many of my characters die that it's completely fitting! XD
lol <3
The ironic thing is that so many of my characters die that it's completely fitting! XD
A new back cover? Yes, I think so :3
“Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me this is what you want?? If you truly hated this life so, fake as you claim it to be, wouldn’t you have just killed me!?”
Artemis stopped in his tracks, and his eyes grew wide, and then narrowed with hatred. His hand twitched a little, and made a clenched fist. Julius stared at his back from across the room, fire in his eyes, determined; yet terrified.
“You’re already dead.”
Artemis said emotionlessly.
“I killed you five minutes ago.”
Artemis stopped in his tracks, and his eyes grew wide, and then narrowed with hatred. His hand twitched a little, and made a clenched fist. Julius stared at his back from across the room, fire in his eyes, determined; yet terrified.
“You’re already dead.”
Artemis said emotionlessly.
“I killed you five minutes ago.”
Monday, April 20, 2009
Great Scott! I've been way too lazy D: + TPK intro <3
So I looked at the last time I posted on here and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. More than a month! I could slap myself for being so lazy! Oh well, I'm pretty sure that's physically impossible anyways.
So things are going smoothly with my books...I got down quite a few pages over break, although not as many as I'd hoped, but I still am happy with the quality. I might post some, even; although only a few short segmants because I don't want anybody stealing my work and claiming it's theirs. Although, I'd like to see somebody try and win a lawsuit with me, considering I have all the early scripts and such anyways XD
So, without further adeau...I present to you --The Paper King!
-The province of Veronia, England-
September 13th, 1431
Metallic boots clamored on solid oak floor planks, propelling their armor clad occupants as fast as they could run. Twelve men raced down a torch-lit corridor, ten of them in shining suits of armor; the last of the royal guards of the castle, abandoning their posts in a last ditch effort to win the battle that raged outside the stone walls. Their men were being slaughtered out there—an hour earlier forces led by Tybalt Valentian, the general and military advisor to the king, had gone to fight the approaching Averleigh army. Word from a mortally wounded messenger had confirmed the Kings worst fears; their forces had been pushed back much too far, and soon enough the enemy would be upon them.
Veronia had been at war with the Averleins for over twenty years now; long ago the funds of the Veronian kingdom had run dry and the king had called upon its neighboring kingdom for aid. They racked up a hefty debt, 20 million pounds in all, and, fifteen years later had repaid them. Or so they thought. Three days after the sum had been sent by armed caravan to Averleigh, the Averlein King Sent word to Veronia that the money had never reached their kingdom. They claimed that the Veronians still owed them, however the Veronians knew very well that they had paid their dues already. They determined that the Averlein King had gotten the money and killed the deliverers, then told Veronia they had never been paid in order to get twice as much as they were owed. An inflated interest that the Veronians had no means to pay and were certainly not willing to pay. The Veronians would not give into this corrupt monarchy to the west, and the Averleins would not give into the treacherous liars to the east. And so, they went to war.
Leading the last battalion of men to the castle doors was the young King, Julius Benedict Pembrooke, himself only being the age of nineteen. His Father, the late King Theodore Leonitus Pembrooke had died three years ago of the plague, his adopted daughter Victoria Marie dying shortly after, leaving only his son to carry on the crown. This was his father’s war, and he was determined to win it.
Julius and his sister, six years younger than he, had been in part raised by Tybalt; their father was often very busy, being what he was. Tybalt had taught Julius everything he knew about sword fighting ever since Julius could remember. His happiest days were spent with Tybalt in the barracks, relentlessly going at each other for hours on end. Tybalt was a father figure, mentor, and a friend. A strange relationship at best, but they were basically inseparable. They drank together, ate together, trained together, and even visited the royal cemetery together. They could not possibly be closer.
Julius ran as fast as he could go down the hall, which was quite fast actually, because he really was the opposite of the royal stereotype; he trained regularly and even led his troops in battle from the front lines. His golden hair streamed in its usual ponytail style as he ran, a determined fire burning in his amber eyes. He had a slight figure, but was very muscular underneath his scarlet blouse and flying green cape. This was his father’s war; his war; his people’s war. He would fight it out till the very end even if it killed him; never give in; his morals were far greater than most men twice his age—watching your family die before your very eyes did that sort of thing to you. That and he had been raised quite well by both Tybalt and his father. He would be ever the gentleman, sweet to the ladies, friend to the men, and upholder of justice to the criminals.
Behind the brigade of soldiers ran a man in regal finery; flowing purple cape and a green tunic accented with gold embroidery. A purple gem hung around his neck and glistened in the torch-light as he went. A mop of short dark brown hair flew in his haste. His name was Artemis Valentene; he was a prepice: a witch employed by royalty to be a weapon of war; he had been himself unsure of this battle--that is, not quite sure which side he was fighting for anymore. This war was the war that had torn him away from his true love, his home, his life… this whole time he had been wearing a mask, hiding himself from them, hiding what he was… an angel of revenge…he had promised himself that long ago, not just for him but for her as well.
Myra…
Looking ahead at the soldiers it dawned on him how pointless this was. They were all going to die, even Julius. The Julius who had been his friend for three years now, who bought him drinks every Friday at the Boars Head…who’d set him free and even given him a job, yes… but Julius’ father…oh God, how he loathed his father. So many cold nights… pointed threats…Damn that man. Damn them all. Artemis was antagonized day after day that his tormentor had not died by his hands…he’d so wanted to crush the life out of him…But he’d died of the Black plague before Artemis been released from imprisonment by the King’s newly crowned son. He could remember when he’d been captured in the midst of battle; knocked unconscious by blows to the back of the head by the blunt end of the Veronian soldiers swords… he’d woken up bound and gagged in the bowels of the very castle he was now pretending to protect. He’d seen his face then…that was the only time he could remember…that he’d taken off the blindfold…
-Veronia, the dungeons-
-1423 (the past)-
He’d woken up with the taste of blood in his mouth; evidently he’d bit his tongue when he’d been bludgeoned from behind…He couldn’t see anything, and for a moment he feared that the hit had rendered him blind, but when he found that his hands were tied behind him he realized what must’ve happened. He couldn’t speak either; a cloth soaked with his blood filled his mouth preventing him from saying anything. He wasn’t able to move at all, really.
He felt like a wild horse that had suddenly been caught; saddle thrown over its back, bit forced into its mouth and blinders placed around it’s head.
Artemis waited for what seemed like hours for something to happen, and, eventually something did. He heard a door open and close; the sound of footsteps drew closer and closer to him; then abruptly stopped. There was a tiny click and then the man was upon him. He was dragged to his feet and shoved up against the stone cold wall. He could sense what was coming; he knew that he was an infallible resource of information regarding the Averlein military… It was a good assumption that he was going to be interrogated. After all, why else would they keep him alive?
The man lifted the blindfold off his face. From what Artemis could see, he was quite obviously an important individual; he wore maroon regalia that spoke well of his finances. He looked gruff enough to be an interrogator; neat brown hair and a stern, strong face. The ends of his sideburns turned to stubble and ran down his face, forming a trim goatee on his lightly pronounced chin.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked.
Artemis still had the gag in his mouth, so he could only nervously shake his head in silent answer.
“I am Theodore Pembrooke.” He said.
“…and you are going to tell me everything you know.”
So things are going smoothly with my books...I got down quite a few pages over break, although not as many as I'd hoped, but I still am happy with the quality. I might post some, even; although only a few short segmants because I don't want anybody stealing my work and claiming it's theirs. Although, I'd like to see somebody try and win a lawsuit with me, considering I have all the early scripts and such anyways XD
So, without further adeau...I present to you --The Paper King!
-The province of Veronia, England-
September 13th, 1431
Metallic boots clamored on solid oak floor planks, propelling their armor clad occupants as fast as they could run. Twelve men raced down a torch-lit corridor, ten of them in shining suits of armor; the last of the royal guards of the castle, abandoning their posts in a last ditch effort to win the battle that raged outside the stone walls. Their men were being slaughtered out there—an hour earlier forces led by Tybalt Valentian, the general and military advisor to the king, had gone to fight the approaching Averleigh army. Word from a mortally wounded messenger had confirmed the Kings worst fears; their forces had been pushed back much too far, and soon enough the enemy would be upon them.
Veronia had been at war with the Averleins for over twenty years now; long ago the funds of the Veronian kingdom had run dry and the king had called upon its neighboring kingdom for aid. They racked up a hefty debt, 20 million pounds in all, and, fifteen years later had repaid them. Or so they thought. Three days after the sum had been sent by armed caravan to Averleigh, the Averlein King Sent word to Veronia that the money had never reached their kingdom. They claimed that the Veronians still owed them, however the Veronians knew very well that they had paid their dues already. They determined that the Averlein King had gotten the money and killed the deliverers, then told Veronia they had never been paid in order to get twice as much as they were owed. An inflated interest that the Veronians had no means to pay and were certainly not willing to pay. The Veronians would not give into this corrupt monarchy to the west, and the Averleins would not give into the treacherous liars to the east. And so, they went to war.
Leading the last battalion of men to the castle doors was the young King, Julius Benedict Pembrooke, himself only being the age of nineteen. His Father, the late King Theodore Leonitus Pembrooke had died three years ago of the plague, his adopted daughter Victoria Marie dying shortly after, leaving only his son to carry on the crown. This was his father’s war, and he was determined to win it.
Julius and his sister, six years younger than he, had been in part raised by Tybalt; their father was often very busy, being what he was. Tybalt had taught Julius everything he knew about sword fighting ever since Julius could remember. His happiest days were spent with Tybalt in the barracks, relentlessly going at each other for hours on end. Tybalt was a father figure, mentor, and a friend. A strange relationship at best, but they were basically inseparable. They drank together, ate together, trained together, and even visited the royal cemetery together. They could not possibly be closer.
Julius ran as fast as he could go down the hall, which was quite fast actually, because he really was the opposite of the royal stereotype; he trained regularly and even led his troops in battle from the front lines. His golden hair streamed in its usual ponytail style as he ran, a determined fire burning in his amber eyes. He had a slight figure, but was very muscular underneath his scarlet blouse and flying green cape. This was his father’s war; his war; his people’s war. He would fight it out till the very end even if it killed him; never give in; his morals were far greater than most men twice his age—watching your family die before your very eyes did that sort of thing to you. That and he had been raised quite well by both Tybalt and his father. He would be ever the gentleman, sweet to the ladies, friend to the men, and upholder of justice to the criminals.
Behind the brigade of soldiers ran a man in regal finery; flowing purple cape and a green tunic accented with gold embroidery. A purple gem hung around his neck and glistened in the torch-light as he went. A mop of short dark brown hair flew in his haste. His name was Artemis Valentene; he was a prepice: a witch employed by royalty to be a weapon of war; he had been himself unsure of this battle--that is, not quite sure which side he was fighting for anymore. This war was the war that had torn him away from his true love, his home, his life… this whole time he had been wearing a mask, hiding himself from them, hiding what he was… an angel of revenge…he had promised himself that long ago, not just for him but for her as well.
Myra…
Looking ahead at the soldiers it dawned on him how pointless this was. They were all going to die, even Julius. The Julius who had been his friend for three years now, who bought him drinks every Friday at the Boars Head…who’d set him free and even given him a job, yes… but Julius’ father…oh God, how he loathed his father. So many cold nights… pointed threats…Damn that man. Damn them all. Artemis was antagonized day after day that his tormentor had not died by his hands…he’d so wanted to crush the life out of him…But he’d died of the Black plague before Artemis been released from imprisonment by the King’s newly crowned son. He could remember when he’d been captured in the midst of battle; knocked unconscious by blows to the back of the head by the blunt end of the Veronian soldiers swords… he’d woken up bound and gagged in the bowels of the very castle he was now pretending to protect. He’d seen his face then…that was the only time he could remember…that he’d taken off the blindfold…
-Veronia, the dungeons-
-1423 (the past)-
He’d woken up with the taste of blood in his mouth; evidently he’d bit his tongue when he’d been bludgeoned from behind…He couldn’t see anything, and for a moment he feared that the hit had rendered him blind, but when he found that his hands were tied behind him he realized what must’ve happened. He couldn’t speak either; a cloth soaked with his blood filled his mouth preventing him from saying anything. He wasn’t able to move at all, really.
He felt like a wild horse that had suddenly been caught; saddle thrown over its back, bit forced into its mouth and blinders placed around it’s head.
Artemis waited for what seemed like hours for something to happen, and, eventually something did. He heard a door open and close; the sound of footsteps drew closer and closer to him; then abruptly stopped. There was a tiny click and then the man was upon him. He was dragged to his feet and shoved up against the stone cold wall. He could sense what was coming; he knew that he was an infallible resource of information regarding the Averlein military… It was a good assumption that he was going to be interrogated. After all, why else would they keep him alive?
The man lifted the blindfold off his face. From what Artemis could see, he was quite obviously an important individual; he wore maroon regalia that spoke well of his finances. He looked gruff enough to be an interrogator; neat brown hair and a stern, strong face. The ends of his sideburns turned to stubble and ran down his face, forming a trim goatee on his lightly pronounced chin.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked.
Artemis still had the gag in his mouth, so he could only nervously shake his head in silent answer.
“I am Theodore Pembrooke.” He said.
“…and you are going to tell me everything you know.”
Monday, March 9, 2009
Shakespeare would either be flattered or pissed at me for this...
Oh goodness gracious, I have been busy as of late. Or lazy, you pick :3 Yet it still stands that I haven't updated in quite some time. Before I address this problem (actually, in writing this I AM addressing the problem...), if you're wondering why I'm talking in such a dead state of English it's because my english class is reading Julius Ceasar...
Speaking of which...I've noticed some...creepy...simalarites between the plots of Julius Ceasar and The Paper King (for those of you just joining this, that is my book saga).
Let me see... The triumvarate, with Ceasar, Antony, and Brutus... Well, JULIUS Ceasar quite obviously has the same name as my character Julius Pembrooke; although in reality Ceasar actual name was Gieus, he just went by his middle name. Julius has his own little "Triumvarate" as well...Tybalt matches up with Antony, and Artemis matches up with Brutus. I only now see this connection as I have not actaully read Shakespeares play until just now.
So Tybalt Valencian is just like Antony, because he has a loyal relationship with Julius (Pembrooke), and is his General just as Antony served under Ceasar in the military.
Artemis Valentene...Oh goodness, the simalarity between him and Brutus is astounding. Brutus is Ceasars best friend, but ends up betraying him and killing him because he thinks it needs to be done, although he doesn't in reality truly want to. Artemis ends up betraying Julius, his best friend and King, because he thinks it needs to be done as well. He craves revenge for what happened to him, but in reality it had absolutely nothing to do with Julius himself. However, since Julius father died, he is the only one left to blame for Artemis' troubles. Artemis realizes only too late that he actually didn't hate Julius, that in reality he truly loved him, and he was really the only friend Artemis ever had. For both Brutus and Artemis, they try so hard to do what they think is right that they end up destroying all that is precious to them.
Ah, Tragedy!
It seems so strange that the plots are so similar, but I had no idea of this until I read Julius Ceasar.
Got to go...
TTFN!
Speaking of which...I've noticed some...creepy...simalarites between the plots of Julius Ceasar and The Paper King (for those of you just joining this, that is my book saga).
Let me see... The triumvarate, with Ceasar, Antony, and Brutus... Well, JULIUS Ceasar quite obviously has the same name as my character Julius Pembrooke; although in reality Ceasar actual name was Gieus, he just went by his middle name. Julius has his own little "Triumvarate" as well...Tybalt matches up with Antony, and Artemis matches up with Brutus. I only now see this connection as I have not actaully read Shakespeares play until just now.
So Tybalt Valencian is just like Antony, because he has a loyal relationship with Julius (Pembrooke), and is his General just as Antony served under Ceasar in the military.
Artemis Valentene...Oh goodness, the simalarity between him and Brutus is astounding. Brutus is Ceasars best friend, but ends up betraying him and killing him because he thinks it needs to be done, although he doesn't in reality truly want to. Artemis ends up betraying Julius, his best friend and King, because he thinks it needs to be done as well. He craves revenge for what happened to him, but in reality it had absolutely nothing to do with Julius himself. However, since Julius father died, he is the only one left to blame for Artemis' troubles. Artemis realizes only too late that he actually didn't hate Julius, that in reality he truly loved him, and he was really the only friend Artemis ever had. For both Brutus and Artemis, they try so hard to do what they think is right that they end up destroying all that is precious to them.
Ah, Tragedy!
It seems so strange that the plots are so similar, but I had no idea of this until I read Julius Ceasar.
Got to go...
TTFN!
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