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Is this awesome?
Y 40%  40%  [ 4 ]
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 Post subject: Funk's Awesome, Untitled Novel
PostPosted: Sat Dec 15, 2007 4:08 pm 
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Yes, I am writing a novel. More than 25,000 words done so far. I shall post the prolouge. I need to re-write various bits, such as "LOL IMMEDIATE ABUSE". Constructive criticism please.

WARNING: LOL NON-GRAPHIC RAPE

__________________________________________________
>>Prologue




For a long time, I’ve tried my best to live as an island. To prevent anyone from hurting me, I prevented them from being near me at all. I was an island in the middle of an ocean, no boats being allowed to come near; a no fly zone. In my whole life, only two things really made me this way, only two things really “scarred” me. The first happened to me when I was eleven years old, and the second when I was fourteen.
When I was eleven, my parents died, and I was there to see it.
We lived in a cheap but adequate apartment on the third floor of a building in Chicago. Our family originated from Yokohama in Japan, but we moved to America for work. My father was a fluent speaker of English, so he worked at a Japanese Embassy. I learnt a bit of English while still in Japan, but picked up lots more once I moved to America. My mother remained clueless, only being able to speak simple phrases and ask simple questions. Nothing that would be useful in an emergency…
It all happened so fast. I was sleeping in my room, them in theirs, when I woke up to the rapid chime of an alarm, barely able to breath. I felt a stinging sensation when I opened my eyes; I could barely see. What I could see terrified me. There was a thick, black cloud of smoke covering the whole ceiling. The only light source was causing shadows to sway back and forth. The only light source was an orangey yellow, and it was coming from the main room of our apartment, through the open door of my bedroom.
I instinctively got out of bed and ran into the main room, keeping my head down to avoid the most of the smoke. I was going to shout on my parents, but I became aware that they were already up once I entered the room. The room was completely different than before. There was a gaping hole in the middle, dividing me and my father’s rooms from my mother’s and the kitchen. It was immediately obvious that the source of the fire was above us. Burning pieces of food from the floor above us dropped down every ten seconds or so. At least, it felt like that.
I’m sure only a few minutes passed while I stoop there, but it felt like an eternity. My father was shouting at my mother in our native language, telling her to jump over to gap, which was about a metre wide, so she would be able to access the fire escape on our side and survive. My mother wouldn’t move. Perhaps she was too afraid. Perhaps she just couldn’t hear him over the sirens, alarms and the roar of the fire. My father wouldn’t move either. Perhaps he, too, was afraid. Perhaps he just didn’t want to leave the woman he fell in love with, even if it would save his only child.
No one moved. It felt like everything was in slow motion: the flames gently spreading across the room, the pieces of wood slowly falling, the floor slowly burning away. Then everything was suddenly at full speed again. I heard a sound much like an explosion, but also much like an ancient tree falling. I looked up to see that the ceiling had finally given way, and what was left of it fell.
Their screaming stopped. My mother and father were underneath pieces of rubble and wood. They were either unconscious or dead. All I wanted was to hear them cheering happily like they always did. All I wanted was them to talk to me kindly as they always did. Just once more. I would even have settled for them to scream at me, or to lie down and cry, but this silence was the worst sound I ever heard.
For that moment, I forgot one very important thing. I forgot that I was in danger too. A small piece of the ceiling fell and hit me on the head, knocking me to the ground. It didn’t injure me badly, but it immobilised me temporarily. Before I could get up, another piece of the ceiling fell. This time it was far from small. It was a wooden beam, and it landed on my right leg, pinning me face down on the ground. I felt my leg snap like a twig under its weight.
Flames slowly crept towards me. I was helpless. The blood loss made me too weak to move. I felt the hair that my mother brushed every morning burn away. I felt the face that my father said was the prettiest in the world being licked by flames. I felt everything that made me a pretty little girl just burn away.

I must have fallen unconscious, because that was the last thing I remember before I woke up in an ambulance. Even though I was out of the fire, I was still in agony. My leg hurt, and the skin on my right cheek felt like it was still burning. I was in agony, but it all hurt a lot less when the girl sitting in the ambulance beside me laid her hand on the side of my face that wasn’t burnt. She was a lot older than me, fifteen at least, but still not old enough to be working in an ambulance.
“Don’t worry about a thing,” she said “You’re going to be fine.”
I believed her. Her calm words made me know that I was going to be okay. It made all of my wounds hurt a little less. Even the pain I felt at losing my parents was softened.




After a lengthily stay in hospital, I was fitted with a leg cast and sent to the nearest orphanage. My parents had a fair amount of money saved up for me, but I wouldn’t inherit it until I was eighteen. It turns out people don’t really want to adopt a child with scar tissue covering one side of her face. Even after my leg cast was removed, I wasn’t chosen by any potential foster parents.
My scarring wasn’t that bad: it was really only my cheek that was affected. I wasn’t disfigured by it, but it was still very noticeable. It was wrinkled and slightly reddened, but did not affect any of my senses. It was; however, very unpleasant to see other children look at me like I was some kind of freak. I guess that was unavoidable, since even if I wasn’t scarred, I would still be Asian, and thus “different”. Even though I didn’t think I looked “ugly”, I could barely look at my own reflection without becoming saddened.
Although I was depressed, pessimistic and worried about times to come during my stay at the orphanage, I was far from lonely. Every day, the girl from the ambulance visited me. She told me her name was Sarah, and she was extremely pretty. We talked a lot, even though I found it difficult to speak to others after the fire. It turned out she was a lot like me. Her parents had died in a car crash while she was at home. She was 14 at the time. She had been staying with her legal guardian, her grandmother, ever since.
We went to a nearby country park together a few times, and got to be very close friends. She didn’t seem to be very popular at school, and she would sometimes skip just to be with me. I didn’t go to school because of various psychological problems caused by the accident. She would always tell me about funny things that had happened, and it always made me happy to hear her voice.
Although I was brought up thinking feelings like this were “bad” and “sick”, I quickly found myself falling in love with Sarah. After a few months of her visiting, I formally asked her out, and we began dating. Even though there was a considerably large age gap, as I was twelve by now and Sarah was sixteen, we didn’t let that get in the way. Some of the best days of my life were had with Sarah. We went to the beach together once, and into the city countless times.
She saved up and bought me a cell phone, then gave me her number. She told me that any time I felt down, or even if I just wanted to talk, I could call her. Just having her comfort me made me rise up from the depths of despair. I truly believed I loved her.
I still didn’t like the term “lesbian”; I wanted to be myself, I didn’t want to be held down by a term like that. I wouldn’t admit it to any of the kids at the orphanage, although they were suspicious. Having them know would just lead to bullying.



Two years past, and when Sarah became eighteen she filled out the forms to legally adopt me. She had moved out of her Grandmother’s house and lived alone. She even had a job as a secretary to pay for rent, but I joked that she should be a model instead. It was a long process, as it is generally difficult for single people to adopt, but after months of bureaucratic procedures, I moved in with Sarah.
For a while, Sarah was as she had always been. We were kind to each other, and had fun like always. She taught me things I would have learnt at school, and I became very smart. After a month things took a turn for the worse. Sarah entered a sexual relationship with me, and although I didn’t enjoy it, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Sarah then began to get rougher. She would sometime spank me during sex, which I thought nothing of, but the violence soon escalated.
I became afraid of the woman I once loved. She would beat me if I refused sex, and always made me sleep on the floor. Sometimes she would attack me for no reason, and make me feel like I was in the wrong. I stayed with her because I thought I loved her.
“You’re nothing but a toy to me,” she said. I knew it to be the truth. She wouldn’t let me leave the apartment, but once while she was asleep I sneaked out to a local doctor. After seeing the wounds on my body, he knew immediately what was going on. He told me I should go to the police, so I did. I gave a statement and Sarah was put under arrest.
I was later emancipated at age 15, so I would never have to go back to that orphanage. As I was emancipated, I immediately inherited my parents’ money, and used it to rent an apartment. I enrolled to a local school and got a part time job. I wanted to have a normal life again.

A year later, I am doing a lot better. I am still scarred by my memories, and can’t get along with girls at school too well, but I could function well as a member of society. I tried my best to be happy, and I pretty much succeeded. At least my friends on the internet didn’t judge me because of my skin colour or my scars. Although I was no longer depressed, pessimistic or worried about the future, I was very, very…

…lonely.
__________________________________________________________
>> Chapter 1



I walked home from school the way I did every day. Passing the homeless, the drunken, the ‘gangsters’ and the rednecks… I hated this town. No doubt about it: there wasn’t a single person here I liked. I didn’t hate them. I just felt nothing towards them. I’d been like that for a long time. I felt happiness, anger, sadness, but I did not feel love.
I took a shortcut through the mall as I do every day, seeing a girl I thought was kind of cute with a group of friends on the way. Our eyes met, and I looked away quickly. I felt an icy stare hit me in the back. I blushed at my own stupidity and walked on. I exited the mall and walked across the old abandoned railways. These railways reminded me a lot of myself: they were perfectly functioning, there wasn’t any rust or rotted wood, but they were just left alone because no one had any use for them.
Within a block I was at the apartment building I live in. I passed the board of residents. ‘Ai | Second floor | Room 2’. It’s kind of an ironic name; meaning ‘love’, the one emotion I will never feel. At least, the one emotion I don’t think I’ll ever feel again. I quickly ran up the stairs and fumbled for my key. Pushing it into the hole, I turned the hand and stumbled in. I dropped my schoolbag and began to undo my shirt, exposing my-
Once I had changed into something a little more comfortable, I headed out. I leisurely strolled down the stairs and exited out the front door. This time I went in the opposite direction of the town centre. Going past countless houses and apartments, I walked along the side of a road towards my destination. It was only about half a mile out of the city.
I took a right turn, directly into a field. Seems a little bit of a strange thing to do, but this was the way to my favourite spot in the world. I walked through the long grass, blades of it whipping against my thighs as I did so. Insects buzzed around me, but I didn’t mind. Within a short walk, I was there.
There was a short fence, which could be easily tipped over, only to spring back up once you let go. I pushed it down and stepped over, on to a small area of short grass. I turned around and, holding on to the fence, slid down a short wall of earth and rock, on to a ledge three metres out from the edge. I was on the cliff that I came to every day. I sat down, feeling the damp grass seep through to my bottom.
Leaning back, I enjoyed the view. Perfect timing! I had got there just in time for the sunset. The surrounding trees that had been battered by wind over many years glowed orange. The various Islands I could see were lit up beautifully, and the further out ones created magnificent silhouettes. I was so glad I had moved out of Chicago. These were truly peaceful times.
Suddenly, I heard something behind me. It sounded like how one would imagine a flying saucer would sound like, a kind of deep humming sound. The ground shook. I turned around. What I saw had to be some kind of illusion.
I saw what looked somewhat like an octopus: it had a number of long tentacles, but instead of being fleshy, they were much more like some kind of animated fluid, and were a translucent black. They ended bluntly, with no ‘feelers’ or anything at the end. They were uniform in length and diameter, being completely rounded with no bumps. They moved in an eerie way, wobbling like the waves on the ocean.
The ‘body’ was even stranger. It was an (again black) spheroid, although more opaque than the tentacles. It shook and rippled with every step the beast took through the field. At the bottom of the body was one disk shaped eye, perfectly round, somehow expressing both calm and malice at the same time.

I froze. How could I do anything? I was at the edge of a cliff with a fifty foot monster behind me? The eye suddenly moved. It fixed its gaze directly on me, making me feel very, very cold. The sun had just completely set behind me.
“BAD WORD,” was all I could think at that moment.
It was surreal. I heard what sounded like the roar of and aeroplanes engines only a few miles away. I must have been hearing things; for an aeroplane’s engines to be that loud, it would have to be flying very low. My train of thought was interrupted when the beast lifted one of its 70 foot long tentacles. It suddenly twisted along its length, becoming thinner, longer and developing a point at the end.
What could it be planning to do? The noise I heard earlier got closer. In less than a second, the beast extended the sharpened tentacle horizontally, and swung it down, forward, and to the side in one sweeping motion. The tentacle then retracted back to the main body. I had no idea what had just happened, but it became apparent when the ground beneath me began to shake. I saw a new cliff edge form in front of the beast, at an angle, sweeping down towards the land, curved.
It was then that I noticed the error in my perception. It wasn’t a new cliff forming, but rather, the cliff I was on was falling. The beast had cut right underneath me at and angle, causing me to slide backwards towards the sea. It was a slow process, but I had no way to escape this sliding. I was going to die. That noise was louder than ever…
“Give me you hand!” said a voice behind me. I nearly fainted from the shock. I turned immediately, to see something amazing. The sea I had watched all these months was now closer than ever. I was nearly at sea level. However, I could not admire the view, as there was something even more beautiful in the way. Only a few feet away from me was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, far surpassing Sarah, and any other woman in my life, including my mother.
She wasn’t on the cliff I was on. Oh no. She was on something much stranger. It was some kind of strange crystalline structure, lustrous pink and blue in colour. It was impossible to describe, and was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. I just floated there, with no visible means of flying, and it constantly roared as if flying at full speed.
I was still frozen. The water was getting closer. There was some kind of demon chasing me. How could I trust her? Who was piloting the ship? What WAS the ship? Am I going to die?
She gave me a reassuring smile.

I reached out, and took her hand.

She pulled me on to the surface of her ship, and held me against her. She quietly told me not to worry, and I felt myself phase out the chaos around me. All I felt was the warmth of her chest against me. She held me with her left arm, and lifted her right so it pointed towards the thing that attacked me. I felt an aura of warmth form around her. I saw the air glow a pinkish white.
She closed her eyes and put on a pained face, like she was concentrating on something. I very strong source of light formed behind me. I heard a loud humming sound, as if someone was charging a motor of a very large piece of machinery
“Don’t look,” she said. I did exactly as she asked. I heard a whooshing, booming sound, and I felt huge recoil. Both this girl and I fell backwards, landing sharply on the ship’s surface. She didn’t seem to be hurt too badly, and my fall had been cushioned because of the way she had been holding me. For this reason, I found my face buried deep in her bosom. I felt myself blush. I fainted.
____________________________________________________________

tl;dr, I know, but give it a read, you might end up enjoying it. Hopefully the filters caught any BAD WORDS I forgot to leave out.

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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Dec 24, 2007 3:54 pm 
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The lack of critique disturbs me.

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 24, 2007 4:04 pm 
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Funky, it's the "holiday" season. Give people time.
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PostPosted: Mon Dec 24, 2007 4:35 pm 
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Why did you post a picture of a T-Shirt?

Marlboro Man Morrison, every post you make doesn't have to be "LOLOLOO HILARIIOUS PCURTIR LOLO BTARDZ"

Anyway, good story, Funk.

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 24, 2007 4:36 pm 
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It's the only graphic I could find that said "Patience, grasshopper".

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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Dec 24, 2007 4:57 pm 
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The question I'm asking is why you need a graphic.

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PostPosted: Wed Dec 26, 2007 5:47 pm 
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Duecex2 wrote:
The question I'm asking is why you need a graphic.

The same reason childrens' books have pictures: to [s]insult the reader's intelligence[/s] draw attention.

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PostPosted: Fri Dec 28, 2007 3:19 pm 
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Nice writing but an odd concept. I doubt many people here will agree to it but I guess you did it, "For the Lulz" as they say :\

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 Post subject: Re: Funk's Awesome, Untitled Novel
PostPosted: Sun Jan 06, 2008 1:05 pm 
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http://www.bebo.com/amityyuri
lol link

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 Post subject: Re: Funk's Awesome, Untitled Novel
PostPosted: Mon Jan 07, 2008 2:16 am 
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Funkstar wrote:
http://www.bebo.com/amityyuri
lol link

...Your name is craig?

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 Post subject: Re: Funk's Awesome, Untitled Novel
PostPosted: Mon Jan 07, 2008 2:44 am 
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I knew that a long time ago.

lurk moar.

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 Post subject: Re: Funk's Awesome, Untitled Novel
PostPosted: Tue Jan 08, 2008 4:21 am 
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I am reading dis book, called "Farewell to Manzanar", and I totally think of this every time I read it.:'[
This is not a good thing.
But 'tis well-written. Good job.


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 Post subject: Re: Funk's Awesome, Untitled Novel
PostPosted: Tue Jan 08, 2008 9:45 pm 
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Thanks.

But, why are my lesbians in an internment camp?

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 Post subject: Re: Funk's Awesome, Untitled Novel
PostPosted: Wed Jan 09, 2008 2:37 am 
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I ask myself that question every day.


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