Category Archives: Freewriting
This is Aaron’s secondary mind, reporting from the creative recesses of his psyche. We’re here with one of the main characters of Myth; of Men and Monsters. She doesn’t quite understand that she’s a character and she hasn’t gone through any of the events in the story yet, we’ve caught her the day before her first introduction.
Ms. Bo’Fauhn, it’s lovely having you here, are you comfortable?
Yes, very much so, thank you.
Wonderful. Let’s get started as I know you have things you need to accomplish. Can you tell us a little about yourself? Give us some history on you.
My name is Claire Bo’Fauhn. I’m sixteen years old, nearing the end of my Spiriling courses at the Byohar Tower Schools. I’m the daughter of a Ghirault, a nobleman from Fridinlay. Read the rest of this entry
The story continues. Why did Babette scream? What happened during the mysterious murders? Why am I speaking like an old soap opera narrator? Find out all this and less from the perspective of Gilbert Mines’ sheriff!
Nobody never saw much of me. I’d heard tell of some lawmen ‘cross the states, pride and joys of their towns. They’d patrol the streets in broad daylight, ridin’ top a great stallion, two six guns at their side and a long rifle in their pack. They was showmen. Least that’s what they’d have in the travelin’ shows. That’s what I heard was in them books people was readin’ out east. We’d have tourists comin’ in and asking for the sheriff during the day. My deputy’d have to tell them to come back after dusk.
Nothing ever happened in Gilbert Mines during the day. Even the accidents had been at night, each time under the biggest and brightest full moon you could see. I found that sleeping in spit of the son and haulin’ my tired behind in at nightfall was the only way I could keep going from dusk to dawn. I was never needed before that, or after. And, even then, the calls for my actions were few and far between. Of course, when they did come, they were dire. There’d been three or four brawls over the last month. First one ended in a young man’s death. He’d been beaten to within an inch of his life and just couldn’t climb a safe distance back. I couldn’t count the murders. They’d happened between a patrol. I heard the screams and the… whatever that other sound could have been… and I came runnin’. I grabbed my rifle first. I followed the sounds, no screamin’ then, just an animal eatin’ whatever it’d caught. Led me straight outside the inn.
Yeah, I saw it. Swear to all things holy, it was a strange type a bear I’d never seen before. I got a few shots off. Hit it’s side twice, then it got outta range right quick almost as if it knew that’s where the danger lessened. It headed out to the old mines. I know I hit it twice, both bullets landing not two inches from each other. You never forget a night like that. The littlest details stick for the longest time. Read the rest of this entry
This one might spark a discussion. Just remember, never make them eat their vegetables… Seriously, just don’t do it. THIS WILL HAPPEN!
“Five days ago, in response to a video now banned in most of the world, an estimated seventy five million people brought horrible and swift violence to the streets across this nation.”
The news anchor’s sullen voice marched through the silent basement. I was lucky to have turned the volume up when I noticed the blank screen replaced with the digital signal. Keeping the TV on was an accident, more of an oversight. I didn’t care to imagine what caused the owners of the house to leave without shutting everything off. I knew why it happened. I knew what happened and I didn’t want to see it in my mind.
The sofa that had been my bed for the last three nights cast a flickering shadow against the small, high, ground-level windows. I drew their shades. Not wanting to take any more chances, I put some spare cardboard boxes against them to block the light. I did all of this to the continuing voice of the softly speaking man on the television.
“Officials have yet to confirm the supposed facts discussed in the video, which became an internet sensation, literally, overnight. But the fact seems clear that whether the entirety was true or not, Dr. Herman Teichmann’s speech effectively predicted the days following the upload. In a twist of fate, Dr. Teichmann, himself, was the first high profile victim of the phenomena when a large group of organized assailants invaded his home and that of his house keeper.” Read the rest of this entry
Is there anything more dangerous than a crazy-ass writer?
Maybe one of these… MAYBE…
“Tacos are the source of all things good and right in this world.”
Vic had a habit of speaking to himself on long hauls. It seeped into his daily life. Even today, when he was pretty much just waiting around for his next call, he’d had three conversations already.
He pulled his pickup through the small ramp and gunned the engine. He cut in front of a tiny car of high school kids. He gave a little smile. They just looked like the type that were out for no good. They looked like the type he’d hung out with when he was that age.
The nearly setting sun tried to blind him though the windshield when he turned the corner to order. He stopped and pulled down the visor.
The window took a bit to roll down. It was sticking lately and he didn’t want to force it so much that he ripped the handle. It was an older truck, without power windows and heated seats. It had a great engine, though. That’s what he cared about. Read the rest of this entry
Don’t check this one for errors. You’ll see why, soon. It’s not just Aaron’s ridiculous way of writing. There’s a point this time.
We named him Ashkii.
He’d been given to us by the Navajo tribes as they came through a couple years back. Wanted to trade for some of our crop but didn’t have much on them. They wasn’t too well off as they marched through the dirt road leading to nowhere. All they had was a few puppies from a litter they was duped into buying from a Dutch swindler a few towns over.
The kid kept saying that word, over and over, shaking the little thing in front of us so we could see he meant to send it our way. They didn’t know english. To be perfectly honest, I ain’t too keen on my own language neither but I reckon that between us, we had enough for a good college teacher. Or maybe at least a bad one. Read the rest of this entry
In honor of Friday the 12th, Aaron has decided to post a more traditional supernatural story… Wait… what? It’s Friday the 13th? What the hell? When did it change over?
Great, now this doesn’t even make sense!
I wish someone would have told him.
He’s going to look like a moron.
Anyway, this story is directly inspired by one of Aaron’s favorite authors. Comment if you can tell who it is. Read the rest of this entry
These are old characters. They were created by Aaron and a few friends when they were in highschool. The original creations have changed over the years… For instance, MAX, used to be a large cybernetic duck. Yeah… ‘What the hell?’ is right.
It wasn’t looking good.
The ramps were blocked. Lazarus could see the traffic from the corner of his eye. His short, spiked, multicolored faux hawk was being torn apart in the wind. They were speeding in one direction, he was facing the other. He blinked, holding tight to the grips in his hands.
“Uh, hey boss, thay’s a prollum, huh?”
MAX shrugged the racist dialect.
“Here’s an idea, pipsqueak, you stick to what you’re doing and I’ll worry about the shit in front of us, kay?”
MAX’s face was calm. It was immoveable.
The interconnecting metal pieces could barely articulate speech. He hadn’t shown the stress when he’d noticed the lack of an exit strategy after this surprise chase started. He saw the other cars a long time ago. He had the benefit of driving, of being positioned in a forward facing direction, of being equipped with digital visual units. He was also not currently firing two large rotary pistols at the odd silvery, slithering creature chasing them. Read the rest of this entry
For those of you acquainted with Mommy’s work, you’ll be right at home. For those of you who aren’t, don’t worry… You don’t absolutely need to be. And yes, I am still on this Mommy thing.
The pain spreads from his ear to his jaw and further down the nerves of his neck and shoulders. His fingers twitch. The small arms, covered in old dark scars, tug against the impossibly heavy restraints. He refuses to scream, forcing his mouth closed against reflex. His sharp canine teeth pierce his own tongue. The sensation is nothing to what they’re doing but it gives him some control. It lets him accept the degradation. It distracts his mind.
Jagged metal stops halfway through the cartilage. The boy tries to move his head but a solid vice restricts him. He presses against the barrier, straining the connections. It’s not enough. He’s weak. They haven’t allowed him food. Muscles in his neck grow to definition. He can hear the metal groaning. The massive forces put against it might have freed him had a jolt of new sensation not been sent through his bare chest. Two needles pierce him, jolts of radiated energy communicate with his cells. They are told they are dying. In unison, the tiny organisms release a burst of chemicals and electrical signals. The boy’s brain interprets them and he is finally forced to make a sound. A low roar speaks of the agony. The loose parts of his body, the right arm and leg that aren’t losing circulation from the restraints, seize Read the rest of this entry
Well, this is different… Wait… AM I BINTY?!?! DID YOU USE MY CHILDHOOD?!?!
A super-nova’s heat had no effect on its poly-alloy skin. The weight of the world, a popular metaphor no longer symbolic, was no problem for the remarkably small synthetic body. This creature was the most devastating, powerful, invulnerable being in existence. It had the potential to destroy worlds and coalesce new solar systems into existence.
Binty, this artificial child, sitting in the middle of a field, crying lubricant tears over a shattered stone, was the greatest invention of Dr Eeveet.
Tri had a hard time believing it.
He knelt down, still too tall to comfortably interact with the little thing. His acute fingertips surrounded the pieces of mineral being held up with a trembling palm. Read the rest of this entry
Instead of dropping names, Aaron has chosen to drop geek items. Pick them up for extra points!
Searing plasma rounds zipped overhead. The Major turned. He belted the commands and his men followed. They brought a hail of cover down as they split into three unequal teams. Alpha, the group led by the Major himself, banked east. Bravo and Charlie marched forward and west, respectively. Bravo crested the hill and began lobbing explosive charges over the defending base‚ perimeter walls. Their assigned mission was to penetrate front lines and draw fire. They were the largest group but if their friends failed, they‚ certainly become the smaller of the three.
The Major turned to his men. The intercom in his helmet buzzed on.
“Samson, Dante, front running. Herc and Bowser, shield the trail.”
A few words of affirmation preceded their immediate subordinance. These were cogs, fitting together, turning for the good of the clock. They did their jobs, no distinction between well or average. Doing your share meant the platoon lived. Doing your share meant you lived. Read the rest of this entry