Malnormalishalsodoesdrawings,soPMeitherofustolearnmoreaboutdrawingsandpricing. *We are mostly a writing store, so you need to ask us for a poem or story BEFORE you ask for a drawing.*
Hello all! I'm the elder of the Wordsmith Sisters, and I deal exclusively with prose! I bet you'd like to know my qualifications. Well, I have posted to many sites throughout the years but, by far, the most I've posted to is Wattpad. So, if you're really interested, here's my page: Malnormalish's Profile
I've been writing since grade school and have had stories posted to newspapers. Currently I'm seeking to publish a story I've written called "Ok, Whot Got Bitten?" which has had some popularity. I write all genres but enjoy horror,comedy, science-fiction and fantasy the most.
Want some examples? Here they are, based on genre.
Comedy:
Celebrities are the ultimate beings.
Not that they’re inherently better than anyone, really. Not that they truly have more worth than anyone else, or are more talented than someone else, when it comes down to it. Just that they’ve found a way to exploit the masses and come off as either enlightened or entitled, and people just accept it.
Take this for example: a big-name actor that does a couple movies might make more than $25 million for each movie. Four movies and that’s a whopping $100 million. A lot of dough, right? I can’t possibly imagine what a person would do with all that cash, but it’s safe to say they’d be set for life— maybe even several lives. All I’m sayin’ is that they’re not hurting when it comes to their lifestyle.
But then let’s say that our actor decides it’s time to go to the most expensive store in town, do a little shopping. Buy more stuff for their million dollar houses, stuff to stuff into rooms full of stuff. One foot inside this place and everyone recognizes that person, instantly. And what comes of it?
Most stores who feel graced by the presence of this particular breed will immediately offer anything the celebrity wants for free. That’s right, folks; if you can make $100 million and be recognized by the general public just by showing your face, then you can also be gifted thousands of dollars in merchandise. Just for being you.
So there you have it. A creature that can live very comfortably simply because it lives is the ultimate form of life. But that kind of power hasn’t lasted too long for humanity— a couple hundred-thousand years or so maybe, a short blip in the history of earth. Select humans throughout history got to enjoy the splendors of such a life, but now it seems like it all doesn’t really matter anymore— kings, emperors, sheiks, pharaohs, rajahs, Angelina Jolie— all kind of irrelevant at this point. Celebrities were at the top of the food chain, but now they’ve been knocked down a peg. With the advent of the zombies, I’m tempted to say that the living dead are now standing at the top of that ladder, and will devour anything that tries to climb up.
It sort of makes me wonder what kind of absolute horror celebrity-zombies have become— the apex predators. Do you think that the other zombies worship them and leave all the really bloody pieces of human flesh for Leonardo DiCapitated to eat while they watch in adoration? What about Tom Bruise, he still making headlines for breaking it off with DeKatie Holmes? I wonder if Lady Gurgle still wears those insane costumes, this time using human flesh instead of steaks for her meat gowns. Does Drew Barryme and Jodie Fester still star in movies, raking in that cash, performing for a crowd of moaning moviegoers?
Sci-fi:
The Exodus Descent coasted along the outer rim of an asteroid belt, seemingly empty, a floating hunk of cold metal against the black background of deep space. The hull was bent and deformed, melted in places and dented in others, scorched black by some sort of extreme heat that had long since cooled. The signal that had been transmitted from inside for four and a half years had been quiet for another three, and it was only when it had become a silent speck in the vastness of space that it had been noticed.
A large frigate bearing the title Warspite glided silently over the belt — and those aboard immediately noticed the stranded cruiser. It was hard to miss; a giant, hulking chunk of ruined metal catching the glint of a nearby sun. Weighing roughly 7,000 tons, the Exodus Descent dwarfed the relatively small Warspite by more than half.
Captain Travers stood on the bridge overlooking the one window Warspite was allotted: windows were a structural weakness, but he’d insisted on adding one. Call it poetic romanticism or indulgent stupidity, but there was just something spectacular about the space vista that captured him every time he stepped onto the observation deck. He never tired of nebulae, great clouds of space gas, shimmering stars and far off planets, swirling galaxies and the deep darkness of beyond.
Now, outside the viewport, the gloomy mass of an offline ship— a human ship, no less— filled the view, the great black thing smoothly drifting, sailing along; and for how long? How long had the derelict ship been there? What else had stumbled upon the wreckage before him? Something gave him a bad feeling about the ship.
He’d never heard of the Exodus Descent before, and that was troubling in itself, seeing as how he managed information on all registered human carriers and saw the flow of trade and manufacture on a daily basis. So either this ship was unregistered— and therefore illegal— or it was older than him. Much older.
Fantasy:
“The people of Lyrycul are made of sturdy stuff. You'll find hope in those faced with even the most dire situation, strength in those who appear to be weak, and good within the hearts of thieves. The world is young still, and Lryrycul is a nation in her prime.”
These were the words spoken by the kings of old, when the nation was still united under one rule, and peace reigned on land and sea. When hope shined in every man’s face for a better tomorrow.
But with a source of shining light, darkness soon follows to engulf all that is good.
Plagued by living shadows in the forms of beasts from somewhere beyond their own world, the six kingdoms of Lyrycul fell into despair. The might of shadows overpowered even their strongest forces, and reduced the once beautiful and prosperous land to rubble. The people of the land fled but to no avail; the darkness was infinite, stretched across the land, spreading to all continents, a plague cursing the very ground the people walked upon. Most turned to the gods for help, and when none was given many sought other, darker powers. Others believed the curse was placed upon them as a result of the gods' will and renounced their faith entirely. Any associated with these wrathful gods were swiftly executed, and chaos fell over the nation.
All of this was the effect of man’s ignorance, due to his insatiable malice, which allowed such abominations to walk the night uninhibited.
The Old Ones blessed us with the day so we may prosper and thrive, but that too comes with a price. And so with day comes night, and with night, the deeds of man may be hidden from vision by the shadows, but not forgotten entirely. The old ways of harmony were lost, and the people grew restless, thrown to the changing winds of chaos. Tired and hungry, left on the blighted land, they turned to rage and hate to solve their problems. And with their deeds feeding the evil a new force came to be.
The child of sin, of greed and hate, was born long ago in those times, when those six kingdoms frayed, turned against one another as the world shrank and the population expanded, filling the streets with beggars and scoundrels. With more people came yet more violence and vice; fodder for the growing shadows.
Yet all was not lost. Even on the darkest of nights, when all is shrouded in obscurity and gloom, a single, small light may illuminate the shadows, dispel their mysteries and reveal the truth; for it is when the night is darkest that light may shine at its brightest, and the dark will not abide it. Light keeps the dark at bay; light brings forth the folly of man to show them their error.
That ethereal, otherworldly light was born into the High King Solomon Darsuul, passed down from others of great repute-- from beings quite unlike us-- as the king of all kings who sought to vanquish the darkness. But corruption can dim even the brightest of lights…
The books of the Before Ages tell of the defeat of the first evil, and that the High King drove the darkness back and forever brightened the night sky with stars to illuminate the weary travelers’ way, a guide against the roaming evil and its voracious hunger.
Yet the tale does not end there, for evil is never truly gone while shadows stir....
For a thousand years the wanderer feared
That night would swallow day;
Yet in the dark a single flame grew
And a child was crowned High King.
He grew to loathe the darkness near
And o’er a time his heart grew brave.
Out he rode over hill and stone
With sword and spear and magic lore,
With an army so great that legends sing
Were thrice the size and more
of cowardly Anacor.
As night drew nigh and the battle thickened
His heartbeat steadily quickened;
For up rose a beast so foul,
From the Hells the creature blazed,
And fought in form of thousands told
It fought the King for days.
At long last! The ground split, and the demon,
engulfed by earth,
Roared and thrashed and fought;
The King plunged his sword
Into its cold dark heart
and undid what had been wrought.
Hurrah! Hurray! cried the Wanderer
As the earth shook under his shoes;
And the world broke apart
To seal the demon within
And people rejoiced at the news.
Yet to this day, one thing remains
A reminder of what lay within;
A crack, a wound in the earth where the King once stood
The Hells that have opened again.
So, weary wanderer,
You think that night is safe?
Just look in places so dark
That light cannot escape.
There you will find what the kings of old
Feared most in their darkest dreams,
For deep in Abyss you may glimpse the souls
Of men and hear their screams.
-Excerpt from Sharshuhk, the Epic of Shahrzad the Wanderer. 104 B.A.
Horror:
Keaton fumbled with the mangled radio, looking for the handheld. When he found it, he could barely hold the button down with his trembling hands.
“I-I'm alive. We’ve crashed, oh, God… ” He felt as if his insides were burning.
”Keaton, are you two all right? Where did you land, over?”
Before he could answer, he leaned over and vomited onto the ground. He choked and sputtered for a moment, wiped his mouth, and then said, “I’m okay, but Mike… Mike is dead. He’s ******** dead, and I’m stranded out in nowhere, in a ******** forest in winter. ********, man.”
He was clutching the handheld in both hands to keep it from slipping out of them. Suddenly the chief's voice came, clear and slow, over the radio.
“I need you to calm down, Oliver. Now, do you know your coordinates?”
Keaton shook his head, then realized it was stupid because no one was there to see it.
“No.”
Then he froze. Outside he heard footsteps crunching on snow, cautiously approaching. He dropped the handheld and backed away from the window that lacked the protective glass it had before. He could make out paws sinking into the snow as something four-legged cautiously advanced toward the wreckage.
Then, like a bullet, it rocketed forward and forced its head under the window, snapping at him violently. What he saw made him let out a blood-curdling scream. The head was completely stripped of fur; the jowls of the beast dangled in rotted curtains, and the gums were black, swollen and pus-filled. With it came two others, equally as disgusting and horrible. One of them was missing part of its jaw, the lower half. It's grotesque purple tongue flapped lazily as it fought to enter the small copter cabin.
Keaton slid away from the window as the three hell hounds scrambled to get in. He screamed as one latched on to his foot with so much force that he felt his toes breaking, his leather boots penetrated as easily as if it were jello.
The two other undead dogs nipped at the one with the death grip on his foot, fighting for him.
Fighting for the meal.
Keaton let out a blood-curdling shriek as flesh parted with bone, as bone parted with body, and soon he was sure his leg had been torn off. His vision faded as he lost countless liters of blood, and the last thing he remembered seeing before it went dark was the mangled lump of Mike staring up at him, his face a pile of ground beef, and the cold frost of winter covering the windows.
“Where are you? We’re sending out a search party now…”
The radio buzzed and then died .
So, fill out a form and I'll get to you! Please, though, know that I've got a job and college, so please be patient!
Edit: I will not be doing any fan fiction, anything to do with anime/manga, and generally don't enjoy doing romance (but I will make accommodations if I am intrigued or interested in your request).
Hey, Lady Pelvic has been searching for someone to write har comedy sketches for quite a bit of time.
I may request something myself too, but I'm undecided 4laugh
Hey, Lady Pelvic has been searching for someone to write har comedy sketches for quite a bit of time.
I may request something myself too, but I'm undecided 4laugh
I replied to your friend; I can do some samples, but I've never really thought of sketches. We'll see how it turns out ninja
Cyrus - scheming teenage warlock; 17 years old, average height, skinny build; pale skin, fair hair tied in a pony-tail, blue eyes; wears a black tunic and pants, a blood-red cloak, and carries a wooden staff.
Kane - the King's champion warrior; late 20s, tall and well-built; dark hair, gray eyes; wears the armour and uniform of the King's Guards. Skilled fighter, although he tends to goof-around and act a bit cocky.
Alus - noble King; early 30s, average build; short brown hair, brown eyes, trimmed brown beard; wears an embroidered tunic, black leather breeches, a purple cloak, and a plain gold crown. Generally competent ruler, but prone to over-thinking issues.
Genre: Fantasy Setting: The King's Castle
Plot Points: Cyrus marches into the castle and challenges Kane to a duel, intending to demonstrate his might with a powerful demon he has summoned, only to be dismissed as a child. Amid the chuckling, Cyrus lashes-out, prompting Kane to warn the kid to knock it off because he could get hurt, but Cyrus continues his assault, prompting Kane to start sparring with him. Kane is clearly the superior fighter, but he gradually realizes something is wrong - his strikes seem less precise, his armour oddly heavy, his voice...is getting higher?! The demon is actually an age-stealer, and Kane is becoming younger and younger as he drains him of his growth! Now just a teenager, Kane fights frantically as Cyrus taunts him about his fate of retaking squirehood, pagehood, and even toddlerhood, laughing at his high-pitched curses and struggle with his over-sized attire. Kane's attacks are rendered futile as he shrinks into a helpless baby and Cyrus scoops him up, mocking his "tantrum" as he begins to cry.
Easily subduing the other guards, Cyrus presents the defeated warrior before the King in a literal "changing of the guard" - changing Kane's uniform into a diaper - demanding Alus step down or suffer a similar fate. The King is skeptical that the bawling babe is his champion, but soon finds himself getting younger too! He proceeds to duel with Cyrus, but, not as used to combat as Kane, his situation appears dire - his sagging breeches and slipping crown don't help as the warlock reverts him to awkward adolescence, sneering that he should quit playing at ruling a kingdom and leave it to the grown-ups. All looks lost as the King becomes a mere boy...however, a well-placed throw of his crown manages to smash the crystal on Cyrus's staff he is using to control the demon - it turns on the warlock, reducing him to infancy and re-aging the others before departing. Lifted from his adult trappings, Cyrus wails in frustration as Kane teases his predicament and the King muses that his champion would make a firm-but-fair father.
Length: About 3000 words 1st or 3rd person: 3rd person Cover: Not for now; I might order one after it's complete, if that's okay. 3nodding Price: 30K
Hopefully that's okay; feel free to PM any questions!
P.S. Maybe it's just me, but your Poetry Examples don't seem to be showing. sweatdrop
Cyrus - scheming teenage warlock; 17 years old, average height, skinny build; pale skin, fair hair tied in a pony-tail, blue eyes; wears a black tunic and pants, a blood-red cloak, and carries a wooden staff.
Kane - the King's champion warrior; late 20s, tall and well-built; dark hair, gray eyes; wears the armour and uniform of the King's Guards. Skilled fighter, although he tends to goof-around and act a bit cocky.
Alus - noble King; early 30s, average build; short brown hair, brown eyes, trimmed brown beard; wears an embroidered tunic, black leather breeches, a purple cloak, and a plain gold crown. Generally competent ruler, but prone to over-thinking issues.
Genre: Fantasy Setting: The King's Castle
Plot Points: Cyrus marches into the castle and challenges Kane to a duel, intending to demonstrate his might with a powerful demon he has summoned, only to be dismissed as a child. Amid the chuckling, Cyrus lashes-out, prompting Kane to warn the kid to knock it off because he could get hurt, but Cyrus continues his assault, prompting Kane to start sparring with him. Kane is clearly the superior fighter, but he gradually realizes something is wrong - his strikes seem less precise, his armour oddly heavy, his voice...is getting higher?! The demon is actually an age-stealer, and Kane is becoming younger and younger as he drains him of his growth! Now just a teenager, Kane fights frantically as Cyrus taunts him about his fate of retaking squirehood, pagehood, and even toddlerhood, laughing at his high-pitched curses and struggle with his over-sized attire. Kane's attacks are rendered futile as he shrinks into a helpless baby and Cyrus scoops him up, mocking his "tantrum" as he begins to cry.
Easily subduing the other guards, Cyrus presents the defeated warrior before the King in a literal "changing of the guard" - changing Kane's uniform into a diaper - demanding Alus step down or suffer a similar fate. The King is skeptical that the bawling babe is his champion, but soon finds himself getting younger too! He proceeds to duel with Cyrus, but, not as used to combat as Kane, his situation appears dire - his sagging breeches and slipping crown don't help as the warlock reverts him to awkward adolescence, sneering that he should quit playing at ruling a kingdom and leave it to the grown-ups. All looks lost as the King becomes a mere boy...however, a well-placed throw of his crown manages to smash the crystal on Cyrus's staff he is using to control the demon - it turns on the warlock, reducing him to infancy and re-aging the others before departing. Lifted from his adult trappings, Cyrus wails in frustration as Kane teases his predicament and the King muses that his champion would make a firm-but-fair father.
Length: About 3000 words 1st or 3rd person: 3rd person Cover: Not for now; I might order one after it's complete, if that's okay. 3nodding Price: 30K
Hopefully that's okay; feel free to PM any questions!
P.S. Maybe it's just me, but your Poetry Examples don't seem to be showing. sweatdrop
Wow, that's very interesting! I'll get on that as soon as I can. It may take a week (or less) seeing as how I work and have school and homework and whatnot, but I really like your concept. I'll PM you when it is complete.
