Writing Discussion

[Norstal]

Sure.

Good.

I shall now take my vengeance upon thee, Norsta- I mean... mean... yeah, I mean I shall now take my vengeance upon thee, Norstal. Was I supposed to mean anything else?

I think I might submit my own story. If not, due to personal circumstances (doctors in white suits and hallucinogens), I'll just submit it the next next time we have a contest

I do think you and CM should be judges. The other one would be Jenrak, but I don't know if she will be able to do it.

And no, you shall not get your revenge, because I will write my story in a language only you can't understand. *nods*

[Nationstatelandsville]

Good.

I shall now take my vengeance upon thee, Norsta- I mean... mean... yeah, I mean I shall now take my vengeance upon thee, Norstal. Was I supposed to mean anything else?

I think I might submit my own story. If not, due to personal circumstances (doctors in white suits and hallucinogens), I'll just submit it the next next time we have a contest

I do think you and CM should be judges. The other one would be Jenrak, but I don't know if she will be able to do it.

And no, you shall not get your revenge, because I will write my story in a language only you can't understand. *nods*

YO TENGO UNOS PERROS!

[The New Texas Lands]

I think I might submit my own story. If not, due to personal circumstances (doctors in white suits and hallucinogens), I'll just submit it the next next time we have a contest

I do think you and CM should be judges. The other one would be Jenrak, but I don't know if she will be able to do it.

And no, you shall not get your revenge, because I will write my story in a language only you can't understand. *nods*

YO TENGO UNOS PERROS!

You have some dogs? Wierd.

But, if there was a contest, I'd submit a story.

[Nude East Ireland]

YO TENGO UNOS PERROS!

You have some dogs? Wierd.

But, if there was a contest, I'd submit a story.

I would too.

[Nationstatelandsville]

YO TENGO UNOS PERROS!

You have some dogs? Wierd.

But, if there was a contest, I'd submit a story.

I do.

That was a joke. To show my minimal understanding of multiple languages.

[Yoite]

How do you deal with death in your stories? (Question to everyone)

I try to make the deaths of important characters either painfully abrupt, or epic/manly.

[Conserative Morality]

Jesus Christ don't ask me, it's late. If I knew what I was talking about I'd probably go mad.

The night was dark; unlit and unsafe. The night was always dark - and the streets had not known day for a great many years. Few men walked the streets then, save for their sustenance and their little vices. The rats never spoke, and they did not run fast, and thus provided for both the unscrupulous and unfed. I walked, truly, to find truth, and preserve it, I walked alone, amongst the cretins and vagabonds, wishing for day and cursing the night with the barest lantern, always with but a drop of oil left, always about to fade into the darkness and join it.

Down the cobbled roads, a lone figure in an inverness coat slipped by the dim illumination of a shop window - I raised my hand and call out "Hark! Who walks the street at such an unholy time?"

Silence. I raised my hooded lantern to shine light on a dreary-eyed and gaunt figure. "Hold, goodman, hold. 'tis only me, Yoite. I walk these long hours to find a truth."

"Verily?" I said, ever suspicious of those who walked the night streets alone. "And what truth is that, pray?"

He grinned at me, wide gaps in his teeth, and laughed. "What truth indeed? Should you know, I should not. What truth is there worth finding but the truth that one creates?" I saw madness in his eyes, and I heard madness from his mouth. What possessed me to continue I know not - perhaps I was mad too, for a time.

"Lies, then. Untruths, things of a foul sort made to fool all but the fools who tell them."

The madman laughed again, and said "Ah, but is there something more true than the truths of oneself? If so, I know it not

And I saw he was not mad, in truth, he saw life as clear as the day that once was - and he saw truth. I felt the blood run from my face as I searched around me - and saw things as they truly were - as I saw them, and as I believed them to be, different from all others. And I lowered my lantern, and placed it upon the curb. "Sit goodman." I said "We have much to discuss."

And as we did, I caught a glimpse of his vision; the world again in daylight, bright and filled with innocents, life going on, day by day, with meaning. And he saw my truth, as he stared into the eye of the lantern, through the veil and into a darker land. And we so spoke of truth and worlds and people, great and small.

Many came afterwords, drawn to the dim light of our lanterns, Nationstatelandsville, NEI, Norstal and Nightkill among them, and all spoke of different truths and different worlds from my own. And with this, the light grew.

I fear that day will never return to my streets, but I take greater comfort in the light we have made, in the truths we have made. I take comfort in the sunny plains of others, and in my own sun-beggared city, and I take comfort in the light of our lanterns, quietly burning ever brighter on the street corner.

[Alexlantis]

Jesus Christ don't ask me, it's late. If I knew what I was talking about I'd probably go mad.

The night was dark; unlit and unsafe. The night was always dark - and the streets had not known day for a great many years. Few men walked the streets then, save for their sustenance and their little vices. The rats never spoke, and they did not run fast, and thus provided for both the unscrupulous and unfed. I walked, truly, to find truth, and preserve it, I walked alone, amongst the cretins and vagabonds, wishing for day and cursing the night with the barest lantern, always with but a drop of oil left, always about to fade into the darkness and join it.

Down the cobbled roads, a lone figure in an inverness coat slipped by the dim illumination of a shop window - I raised my hand and call out "Hark! Who walks the street at such an unholy time?"

Silence. I raised my hooded lantern to shine light on a dreary-eyed and gaunt figure. "Hold, goodman, hold. 'tis only me, Yoite. I walk these long hours to find a truth."

"Verily?" I said, ever suspicious of those who walked the night streets alone. "And what truth is that, pray?"

He grinned at me, wide gaps in his teeth, and laughed. "What truth indeed? Should you know, I should not. What truth is there worth finding but the truth that one creates?" I saw madness in his eyes, and I heard madness from his mouth. What possessed me to continue I know not - perhaps I was mad too, for a time.

"Lies, then. Untruths, things of a foul sort made to fool all but the fools who tell them."

The madman laughed again, and said "Ah, but is there something more true than the truths of oneself? If so, I know it not

And I saw he was not mad, in truth, he saw life as clear as the day that once was - and he saw truth. I felt the blood run from my face as I searched around me - and saw things as they truly were - as I saw them, and as I believed them to be, different from all others. And I lowered my lantern, and placed it upon the curb. "Sit goodman." I said "We have much to discuss."

And as we did, I caught a glimpse of his vision; the world again in daylight, bright and filled with innocents, life going on, day by day, with meaning. And he saw my truth, as he stared into the eye of the lantern, through the veil and into a darker land. And we so spoke of truth and worlds and people, great and small.

Many came afterwords, drawn to the dim light of our lanterns, Nationstatelandsville, NEI, Norstal and Nightkill among them, and all spoke of different truths and different worlds from my own. And with this, the light grew.

I fear that day will never return to my streets, but I take greater comfort in the light we have made, in the truths we have made. I take comfort in the sunny plains of others, and in my own sun-beggared city, and I take comfort in the light of our lanterns, quietly burning ever brighter on the street corner.

Nice.

[Nightkill the Emperor]

Jesus Christ don't ask me, it's late. If I knew what I was talking about I'd probably go mad.

The night was dark; unlit and unsafe. The night was always dark - and the streets had not known day for a great many years. Few men walked the streets then, save for their sustenance and their little vices. The rats never spoke, and they did not run fast, and thus provided for both the unscrupulous and unfed. I walked, truly, to find truth, and preserve it, I walked alone, amongst the cretins and vagabonds, wishing for day and cursing the night with the barest lantern, always with but a drop of oil left, always about to fade into the darkness and join it.

Down the cobbled roads, a lone figure in an inverness coat slipped by the dim illumination of a shop window - I raised my hand and call out "Hark! Who walks the street at such an unholy time?"

Silence. I raised my hooded lantern to shine light on a dreary-eyed and gaunt figure. "Hold, goodman, hold. 'tis only me, Yoite. I walk these long hours to find a truth."

"Verily?" I said, ever suspicious of those who walked the night streets alone. "And what truth is that, pray?"

He grinned at me, wide gaps in his teeth, and laughed. "What truth indeed? Should you know, I should not. What truth is there worth finding but the truth that one creates?" I saw madness in his eyes, and I heard madness from his mouth. What possessed me to continue I know not - perhaps I was mad too, for a time.

"Lies, then. Untruths, things of a foul sort made to fool all but the fools who tell them."

The madman laughed again, and said "Ah, but is there something more true than the truths of oneself? If so, I know it not

And I saw he was not mad, in truth, he saw life as clear as the day that once was - and he saw truth. I felt the blood run from my face as I searched around me - and saw things as they truly were - as I saw them, and as I believed them to be, different from all others. And I lowered my lantern, and placed it upon the curb. "Sit goodman." I said "We have much to discuss."

And as we did, I caught a glimpse of his vision; the world again in daylight, bright and filled with innocents, life going on, day by day, with meaning. And he saw my truth, as he stared into the eye of the lantern, through the veil and into a darker land. And we so spoke of truth and worlds and people, great and small.

Many came afterwords, drawn to the dim light of our lanterns, Nationstatelandsville, NEI, Norstal and Nightkill among them, and all spoke of different truths and different worlds from my own. And with this, the light grew.

I fear that day will never return to my streets, but I take greater comfort in the light we have made, in the truths we have made. I take comfort in the sunny plains of others, and in my own sun-beggared city, and I take comfort in the light of our lanterns, quietly burning ever brighter on the street corner.

You have my approval, though I think the drugs I slipped you were too strong.

[Conserative Morality]

You have my approval, though I think the drugs I slipped you were too strong.

I agree entirely.

Nice.

Thanks. It was just a wandering thought that grew much larger than it should.

[Nude East Ireland]

Jesus Christ don't ask me, it's late. If I knew what I was talking about I'd probably go mad.

The night was dark; unlit and unsafe. The night was always dark - and the streets had not known day for a great many years. Few men walked the streets then, save for their sustenance and their little vices. The rats never spoke, and they did not run fast, and thus provided for both the unscrupulous and unfed. I walked, truly, to find truth, and preserve it, I walked alone, amongst the cretins and vagabonds, wishing for day and cursing the night with the barest lantern, always with but a drop of oil left, always about to fade into the darkness and join it.

Down the cobbled roads, a lone figure in an inverness coat slipped by the dim illumination of a shop window - I raised my hand and call out "Hark! Who walks the street at such an unholy time?"

Silence. I raised my hooded lantern to shine light on a dreary-eyed and gaunt figure. "Hold, goodman, hold. 'tis only me, Yoite. I walk these long hours to find a truth."

"Verily?" I said, ever suspicious of those who walked the night streets alone. "And what truth is that, pray?"

He grinned at me, wide gaps in his teeth, and laughed. "What truth indeed? Should you know, I should not. What truth is there worth finding but the truth that one creates?" I saw madness in his eyes, and I heard madness from his mouth. What possessed me to continue I know not - perhaps I was mad too, for a time.

"Lies, then. Untruths, things of a foul sort made to fool all but the fools who tell them."

The madman laughed again, and said "Ah, but is there something more true than the truths of oneself? If so, I know it not

And I saw he was not mad, in truth, he saw life as clear as the day that once was - and he saw truth. I felt the blood run from my face as I searched around me - and saw things as they truly were - as I saw them, and as I believed them to be, different from all others. And I lowered my lantern, and placed it upon the curb. "Sit goodman." I said "We have much to discuss."

And as we did, I caught a glimpse of his vision; the world again in daylight, bright and filled with innocents, life going on, day by day, with meaning. And he saw my truth, as he stared into the eye of the lantern, through the veil and into a darker land. And we so spoke of truth and worlds and people, great and small.

Many came afterwords, drawn to the dim light of our lanterns, Nationstatelandsville, NEI, Norstal and Nightkill among them, and all spoke of different truths and different worlds from my own. And with this, the light grew.

I fear that day will never return to my streets, but I take greater comfort in the light we have made, in the truths we have made. I take comfort in the sunny plains of others, and in my own sun-beggared city, and I take comfort in the light of our lanterns, quietly burning ever brighter on the street corner.

Then we had a ding dong?

Ding dong melody on high...

[The Rich Port]

Here's an idea:

Socrates and the Amazon.

What happens when a dick-chopping, murderous psychopath and a smelly, pasty Geek philosopher meet up and spend some time together?

Hilarity ensues!

Or maybe Apollo and Artemis.

What happens when a murderous Amazon huntress goddess and her brother, the god of reason and logic, spend some time together?

Incestuous hijinks!

Nah, that's terrible...

[Norstal]

Jesus Christ don't ask me, it's late. If I knew what I was talking about I'd probably go mad.

The night was dark; unlit and unsafe. The night was always dark - and the streets had not known day for a great many years. Few men walked the streets then, save for their sustenance and their little vices. The rats never spoke, and they did not run fast, and thus provided for both the unscrupulous and unfed. I walked, truly, to find truth, and preserve it, I walked alone, amongst the cretins and vagabonds, wishing for day and cursing the night with the barest lantern, always with but a drop of oil left, always about to fade into the darkness and join it.

Down the cobbled roads, a lone figure in an inverness coat slipped by the dim illumination of a shop window - I raised my hand and call out "Hark! Who walks the street at such an unholy time?"

Silence. I raised my hooded lantern to shine light on a dreary-eyed and gaunt figure. "Hold, goodman, hold. 'tis only me, Yoite. I walk these long hours to find a truth."

"Verily?" I said, ever suspicious of those who walked the night streets alone. "And what truth is that, pray?"

He grinned at me, wide gaps in his teeth, and laughed. "What truth indeed? Should you know, I should not. What truth is there worth finding but the truth that one creates?" I saw madness in his eyes, and I heard madness from his mouth. What possessed me to continue I know not - perhaps I was mad too, for a time.

"Lies, then. Untruths, things of a foul sort made to fool all but the fools who tell them."

The madman laughed again, and said "Ah, but is there something more true than the truths of oneself? If so, I know it not

And I saw he was not mad, in truth, he saw life as clear as the day that once was - and he saw truth. I felt the blood run from my face as I searched around me - and saw things as they truly were - as I saw them, and as I believed them to be, different from all others. And I lowered my lantern, and placed it upon the curb. "Sit goodman." I said "We have much to discuss."

And as we did, I caught a glimpse of his vision; the world again in daylight, bright and filled with innocents, life going on, day by day, with meaning. And he saw my truth, as he stared into the eye of the lantern, through the veil and into a darker land. And we so spoke of truth and worlds and people, great and small.

Many came afterwords, drawn to the dim light of our lanterns, Nationstatelandsville, NEI, Norstal and Nightkill among them, and all spoke of different truths and different worlds from my own. And with this, the light grew.

I fear that day will never return to my streets, but I take greater comfort in the light we have made, in the truths we have made. I take comfort in the sunny plains of others, and in my own sun-beggared city, and I take comfort in the light of our lanterns, quietly burning ever brighter on the street corner.

Awwww, what a touching story. Weird and a bit creepy, but touching nonetheless.

[Nationstatelandsville]

Jesus Christ don't ask me, it's late. If I knew what I was talking about I'd probably go mad.

The night was dark; unlit and unsafe. The night was always dark - and the streets had not known day for a great many years. Few men walked the streets then, save for their sustenance and their little vices. The rats never spoke, and they did not run fast, and thus provided for both the unscrupulous and unfed. I walked, truly, to find truth, and preserve it, I walked alone, amongst the cretins and vagabonds, wishing for day and cursing the night with the barest lantern, always with but a drop of oil left, always about to fade into the darkness and join it.

Down the cobbled roads, a lone figure in an inverness coat slipped by the dim illumination of a shop window - I raised my hand and call out "Hark! Who walks the street at such an unholy time?"

Silence. I raised my hooded lantern to shine light on a dreary-eyed and gaunt figure. "Hold, goodman, hold. 'tis only me, Yoite. I walk these long hours to find a truth."

"Verily?" I said, ever suspicious of those who walked the night streets alone. "And what truth is that, pray?"

He grinned at me, wide gaps in his teeth, and laughed. "What truth indeed? Should you know, I should not. What truth is there worth finding but the truth that one creates?" I saw madness in his eyes, and I heard madness from his mouth. What possessed me to continue I know not - perhaps I was mad too, for a time.

"Lies, then. Untruths, things of a foul sort made to fool all but the fools who tell them."

The madman laughed again, and said "Ah, but is there something more true than the truths of oneself? If so, I know it not

And I saw he was not mad, in truth, he saw life as clear as the day that once was - and he saw truth. I felt the blood run from my face as I searched around me - and saw things as they truly were - as I saw them, and as I believed them to be, different from all others. And I lowered my lantern, and placed it upon the curb. "Sit goodman." I said "We have much to discuss."

And as we did, I caught a glimpse of his vision; the world again in daylight, bright and filled with innocents, life going on, day by day, with meaning. And he saw my truth, as he stared into the eye of the lantern, through the veil and into a darker land. And we so spoke of truth and worlds and people, great and small.

Many came afterwords, drawn to the dim light of our lanterns, Nationstatelandsville, NEI, Norstal and Nightkill among them, and all spoke of different truths and different worlds from my own. And with this, the light grew.

I fear that day will never return to my streets, but I take greater comfort in the light we have made, in the truths we have made. I take comfort in the sunny plains of others, and in my own sun-beggared city, and I take comfort in the light of our lanterns, quietly burning ever brighter on the street corner.

...You're trying to seduce us, aren't you?

[Conserative Morality]

Awwww, what a touching story. Weird and a bit creepy, but touching nonetheless.

It feels like I should have been on drugs when I wrote it.

Instead, I feel mental illness is the appropriate explanation.

...You're trying to seduce us, aren't you?

Of course not!

Just you.

[The Rich Port]

...You're trying to seduce us, aren't you?

Of course not!

Just you.

Oh, shit, it's starting to look like a CLAMP manga up in this bitch.

[Yoite]

Jesus Christ don't ask me, it's late. If I knew what I was talking about I'd probably go mad.

The night was dark; unlit and unsafe. The night was always dark - and the streets had not known day for a great many years. Few men walked the streets then, save for their sustenance and their little vices. The rats never spoke, and they did not run fast, and thus provided for both the unscrupulous and unfed. I walked, truly, to find truth, and preserve it, I walked alone, amongst the cretins and vagabonds, wishing for day and cursing the night with the barest lantern, always with but a drop of oil left, always about to fade into the darkness and join it.

Down the cobbled roads, a lone figure in an inverness coat slipped by the dim illumination of a shop window - I raised my hand and call out "Hark! Who walks the street at such an unholy time?"

Silence. I raised my hooded lantern to shine light on a dreary-eyed and gaunt figure. "Hold, goodman, hold. 'tis only me, Yoite. I walk these long hours to find a truth."

"Verily?" I said, ever suspicious of those who walked the night streets alone. "And what truth is that, pray?"

He grinned at me, wide gaps in his teeth, and laughed. "What truth indeed? Should you know, I should not. What truth is there worth finding but the truth that one creates?" I saw madness in his eyes, and I heard madness from his mouth. What possessed me to continue I know not - perhaps I was mad too, for a time.

"Lies, then. Untruths, things of a foul sort made to fool all but the fools who tell them."

The madman laughed again, and said "Ah, but is there something more true than the truths of oneself? If so, I know it not

And I saw he was not mad, in truth, he saw life as clear as the day that once was - and he saw truth. I felt the blood run from my face as I searched around me - and saw things as they truly were - as I saw them, and as I believed them to be, different from all others. And I lowered my lantern, and placed it upon the curb. "Sit goodman." I said "We have much to discuss."

And as we did, I caught a glimpse of his vision; the world again in daylight, bright and filled with innocents, life going on, day by day, with meaning. And he saw my truth, as he stared into the eye of the lantern, through the veil and into a darker land. And we so spoke of truth and worlds and people, great and small.

Many came afterwords, drawn to the dim light of our lanterns, Nationstatelandsville, NEI, Norstal and Nightkill among them, and all spoke of different truths and different worlds from my own. And with this, the light grew.

I fear that day will never return to my streets, but I take greater comfort in the light we have made, in the truths we have made. I take comfort in the sunny plains of others, and in my own sun-beggared city, and I take comfort in the light of our lanterns, quietly burning ever brighter on the street corner.

I am honored to have brought enlightenment of sorts to you, but my teeth were gapped?

[Conserative Morality]

I am honored to have brought enlightenment of sorts to you, but my teeth were gapped?

Mandatory for madmen.

[The Rich Port]

I am honored to have brought enlightenment of sorts to you, but my teeth were gapped?

Mandatory for madmen.

And mandatory madmen.

[Yoite]

I am honored to have brought enlightenment of sorts to you, but my teeth were gapped?

Mandatory for madmen.

That makes sense.

[Nationstatelandsville]

I am honored to have brought enlightenment of sorts to you, but my teeth were gapped?

Mandatory for madmen.

Nat Writing Tip #1: Crazy people are fucking gold. Always include at least one.

[Nationstatelandsville]

A school assignment from 6th grade I just found. Shit, but it's kind of funny to read it. Funny in a morbid way, anyhow. If this were written by anyone older than 12, weeping for humanity would be the only possible response.

I might revise it into a proper short story.

It was coming. He knew that. They all knew that. Kevin gazed up at the professor. The old man had lived a long life. Kevin had not. It was March 3rd, his 22nd birthday. He had come to Italy as lab assistant. Now, he was going to stay there. Or rather the rubble of it. The meteor was to smash into the city of Rome. Kevin was in Venice.

The dimly-lit lab he now called home held few people. Many had fled the country in hopes of escaping the destruction. Kevin knew Paris would be packed with Italian tourists.

"Kevin," began the tired professor as he turned to his assistant. "we are leaving Venice soon."

"Where to?" asked Kevin. "Paris?"

"Nien." replied the professor.

"I speak Italian, not German."

"I said no. We're going to Athens, not Paris."

"You're going to Greece? What about Austria?" The old man glared at his assistant. He had left his homeland for reasons he wouldn't say. Kevin had known this and had wanted to strike one of the old astronomer's nerves.

"Kevin, we're going to Greece."

"Fine. Whatever you say doc'."

"We're leaving from an airport in Rome. Get the boat." Venice used a series of man-made canals instead of roads. It wasn't the only city to do that, but it was most famous for it.

"Say please."

"Pretty."

Kevin untied the rope connecting the professor's speedboat to the dock. He leapt in and sped up to the lab's front door. The professor was waiting with their bags. They had packed long ago. Kevin would not miss Italy. He had had only two months left in his trip, two long months before his return to Boston. Two months had seemed like years. Now, it seemed like decades.

Professor Morton sped down the Italian highways, bound for Rome. The sky was trembling, thunder shaking it like earthquakes often shook Italy, Rome specifically. The Professor looked over at his lab assistant, who was submerged in a harrowed sleep. It had been a week since they left Venice. Rome was nearly in their sights, The road was dirty and abandoned. No one seemed to care about highways when they all could die soon. The old man pulled out a picture of his family. He had not seen them in years. He wiped away a tear and kept driving.

Julie Morton was not thinking about her father. She had not thought about him in 10 years. She was too busy thinking about Liza, her 15 year old daughter. She had left Vienna to visit Rome, the doomed city, as part of a school field trip. Julie knew her daughter would haven troubles with language. Julie had made sure she was trilingual. When Julie was young, she had lived in Philadelphia with her mother. She had moved to Austria, where she learned German, with her father after her mother had succumbed to cancer. A breaking news flashed onto the TV suddenly. Julie gasped and dropped her glass of water.

Kevin and the professor rolled into Rome and stopped for lunch.

"I hate Italian food." mumbled the professor.

"I love it." Kevin replied. The professor opened the car door. A rabbit scampered by. "That usually only happens before an..." Kevin began. The ground shook.

Julie collapsed onto her couch. The earthquake had ravaged Rome. She panicked. Then she did what she always did during a crisis. She thought. She thought of a plan. A plan that needed someone she hadn't talked to in a long time. Someone she wasn't sure was still alive. She needed her father.

Kevin raced down the ruined streets of Rome. The city had been coated in a layer of soot from fires caused by the disaster. The Coliseum had finally collapsed in on itself.

"The airport better be open." muttered Kevin.

"It's closed." replied Professor Morton as he turned his cell phone on. He checked his messages. None.

"We're in Italy. They have earthquakes all the time."

"What part of 'It's closed' don't you understand?" Kevin swerved into the next lane. He was trying to escape the city. "Road block." said the professor. Kevin didn't listen and smashed through the road block. The professor's phone rang. He answered it.

"Dad?" asked Julie.

"Julie!" shouted the professor in joy.

"Dad, listen. It's about Liza."

"Who?"

"My daughter.

"What?! You what?!"

"Listen she's in Rome... I need you to go help her get out."

"I just left Rome but I could..."

"Thanks. Bye." Julie hung up. Kevin's phone rang.

"Yello?" answered Kevin.

"Kevin!" began the other voice, It was Professor Hernandez. She was one of Professor Morton's associates.

"Professor, what's going on?" asked Kevin.

"It's the comet. It's speeding up. It will crash in 3 weeks." replied Professor Hernandez.

"3 weeks!"

"Yes. Tell the professor." she hung up.

"Kevin, my granddaughter is in Rome. We need to go back." said the professor. Kevin turned around quickly. Metal hit metal. Hoods slammed into each other. Heads hit airbags. Kevin's vision blurred and went black.

Kevin awoke from another terrible night of sleep. It was his fault. It was his fault he crashed. It was his fault the professor had almost died. It was his fault they now only had 2 days left to escape. He always went through life thinking about himself. He had never thought about anyone else. Even on the road. He had never thought any one would ever stand in his way, let alone stop him! He was in a crisis. No one believed him about the meteor coming early. Kevin pounded his pillow in frustration. Then, a plan came to him.

"Ahh... Mr. Wilson," sung the doctor as he turned to Kevin. "you are ready to leave?" Then, Kevin did something stupid. He punched the doctor. He rushed into the professor's room and wheeled him into the waiting elevator. His head wound throbbed. He wheeled the professor into an ambulance as the elevator door closed behind them. The professor was loaded into the ambulance and Kevin leapt into the driver's seat. He sped out of the hospital parking lot and onto the highway. Kevin realized he couldn't just leave. Not without the professor's granddaughter. He found Julie's number in the professor's phone and called her.

"Dad?" Julie answered.

"No. I'm a friend of his." replied a hoarse voice. "Where's Liza?"

"What?"

"Liza!"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Your daughter will die if you don't. Where is she?" She told him the hotel. "Room?"

"214."

Kevin hung up and took a sharp left. He practically exploded through the hotel door.

"Room 214, where is it?" he questioned.

"2nd floor. What is last name?" asked the clerk in broken English. Kevin ignored her and dashed up the stairs. He nearly knocked the door in with the knocker.
"Hello?" asked a meek voice.

"Open the door!" Kevin screamed. Another voice shouted something in Italian. The door opened. Kevin stood before a small Indian girl. "Do you know a girl named Liza?"

"I'm Liza." answered a tall girl with fair and green eyes, Just like the professor.

"I'm a scientist. The meteor is coming soon. I need you and your classmates in your bus, ASAP." said Kevin.

"Fine." said Liza. A half hour later, Liza was in the back of a bus breaking every Italian speed law. The American boy was leading them in an ambulance. She knew he wasn't a scientist. She also knew he was probably right. She had inherited her mother's intuition. He wasn't lying.

Two months later, it had happened. 521 lives lost. Rome, the final blow delivered, destroyed. This glorious artifact of the ancient world, eradicated by the natural world. Kevin looked out the hotel window. Athens was still there. So was Boston. That was the problem. He could stay with the recuperating professor or go home. He had dreamt of returning to his family for a long time. Now, he was beginning to realize leaving Athens would be leaving his family. The professor... he needed him. He had made his decision.

Rome's glorious monuments smoldered, The ground was pushed up. The comet had dug 17 miles into the Earth. The rock itself had mostly been destroyed during impact. Italy and surrounding area's air would be polluted for years to come with ash. 521 deaths. A fraction of would have happened, if not Professor Morton and his young hotshot assistant. It had come. It had been survived.

I thought I was ever so clever when I wrote this. I used to be an arrogant shit.

Now, I'm arrogant feces. A little more dignified.

[Our New World Oceania]

How does one write a young-adult musical without making it sound stupid?

[Astrolinium]

How does one write a young-adult musical without making it sound stupid?

You make it a parody of the musical genre?

[Nude East Ireland]

What do you guys think about a story set in Japan from 1962-1965? Basically, northern Honshu and Hokkaido are occupied by the Warsaw Pact, while southern Honshu, Kyushu and Shikoku are occupied by the United Nations. The story focusses on Light and Kana, who reside in Tokyo and Sapporo. (the capitals of the UN-occupied and Warsaw-occupied regions, respectively) They were childhood friends living in Fukushima, until the armies of the UN and the Warsaw Pact arrived, and separated the regions.