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Angles and Dangles Captain
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 Posted: Fri Mar 05, 2010 9:46 pm
Post the final product fizzle here.
Fizzle ideas belong in the fizzle sticky thread.
Fizzles in general are not meant to be seriously written or desiring serious feedback. You can post little comments about minor points, but serious critique and feedback does not belong here. If you want serious feedback on your fizzle, you may copy and paste the fizzle to your personal file. If you have not yet started a personal file, check out that subforum on how to start one.
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Posted: Wed Mar 10, 2010 9:49 am
My Fizzle: When does freedom become tyranny and when does tyranny become freedom?
Sooo....I kind of deviated a bit. Here's what I got though.
---- ---- ----
They said things would be better this way.
They said that freedom was what we all aspired to, that freedom was our goal.
They said that freedom would make things better.
They were fools.
We have to ask ourselves why we weren't free to begin with. Why did we, for thousands of years, build walls and rules and morals? Why did we enslave our actions for all of humanity if the ultimate freedom would make us ultimately happy?
But then there was revolution, and we were free from government and taxes. We could do as we pleased.
There is a figure silhouetted against the sun, his hair unwashed and his knees bruised.
“Adam!” He turns. “Adam, I found some mushrooms! I think they are the good kind.”
The world is dark now, Adam thinks. There are no lights at night, save for the stars.
He could barely remember what life was like before the revolution anymore. People were so angry at the end, angry at the corruption and the taxes, the mass consumerism and the corporations. So many things burned; buildings and CDs, cell phones and people... Yes, even people.
Adam looked at the young girl holding handfuls of innocent looking fungi.
“Good job Evelyn.” She smiled at the compliment.
“With the squirrel we caught and those old cans of spam that you found last week, we'll have a really great dinner tonight.” She said happily.
Adam nodded. Evelyn had been born after the Revolution. For her a few mushrooms, a leg of squirrel and old spam was a good meal.
Free at last.
Free at last.
Thank the Lord, we're Free at Last.
And so free we are, we have no choices left. We ripped down the walls, and the palace of our privileged lives crumbled around us.
We are trapped.
And this time...
There is no one we can rebel against.
--- --- ---
So there ya go. It was rather rambling and strange. Comments are nice though.
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Posted: Thu Mar 11, 2010 12:20 am
picture a sentence of big letters that just have an outline then picture the outline being filled in the black ink on each letter and that's what I have to do. and that's just the picture in my head of what it has to be. it's a metaphor for staying in the lines. I feel before I think and I have to think about why I feel that way about whatever and it makes a picture.
when I think of what to write it's something that is retarded and it's just makes me look stupid and stuff because then I'm showing my thoughts because I'd be writing it in first person like a biography and then if I didn't write the right thought down.
then I'm going to tell someone that wasn't what I meant and then they're going to say "well that's what you said so too bad!" and that makes me so angry that I blow up on people.
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Posted: Fri Mar 12, 2010 7:51 am
My Fizzle: Quote: "Do you know why they call this place 'No More Heroes'?" the fallen hero asked Asuka. Asuka told him, "No. I don't." "Because they all died a long time ago." Asuka told the man, "I have faith in your fate. Because true heroes never die." -- - -- - -- - - - - - - - - - Hero
The Victory Arch of the Great Days of Fire had stood for half a millennium, it's engraved buttresses weathered by the wind, sun and rain. It loomed over the dead city, it's shadow long and dark across the abandoned market squares and decaying bath house.
Two dark figures talked in hushed tones under the Arch. The smaller figure was sitting on the ground, her back against the old stones. She stared out at the sunset, the light reflecting in her eyes. Only a week had passed since she had first left her village to go on her quest to find the last of the great Heroes and have him save their people, and here she was.
The other figure was a man, his skin a deep chocolate, his eyes an ever darker black standing with his arms crossed. He was watching the girl. He was the one she had come to find. The last hero was a tired man, worn out from great battles of old, granted long life by the Elder Gods themselves for rescuing the once great, now crumbling city 500 years ago. For nearly 300 years he had sat and watched as the world changed.
“Do you know why they call this place the land of no more heroes?” He asked her.
“No.” She said softly.
“Because they all died. Dragons and monsters and armies rose against us, child. We rose against each other. There are no heroes left. I am but a watcher now.”
“I have faith in your fate.” The girl said and looked at him, her dark hair falling over half her face. “True heroes never die.”
“True heroes go to the stars, but they are dead there to.” The man replied and pointed up at the first stars of the night as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. “Orion was a mighty hero and he too died. You disturb my days of rest to fight another war, but I will not. You speak of never dying, but I will. Go home, child, and be your own hero.”
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Posted: Sat Mar 13, 2010 1:18 am
That was really interesting, Ren. Though I wonder what you could have created if you didn't stray... Either way, that was awesome! And I mean both of you fizzles when I say awesome. ~~~~~~ Hope Vibrates “There is nothing left for us here…” That’s what she said and we listened. We left our homes, our lives, everything. Just because she told us to. And now I sit here and wonder, “Was it all worth it?” What was so wrong with our lives that we had to abandon them and start anew? We had heard news of a war brewing in the east, but it was far from us. So why did we leave? Look at us now. Our lives are hard; we barely have enough food to feed everybody. Anet, the village leader passed away three days ago. Without her, we are lost. Who will give us the guidance that we need? We decided to elect a new leader today. After much discussion we finally settled on choosing Lami as our leader. She is young but wise. As Anet’s granddaughter, one would expect her to be as wise as Anet. Hopefully this would prove to be true. We celebrated long into the night. Perhaps this was a new beginning for our people. The election of a new leader, the birth of twins and the first successful hunt in weeks all happened today. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be all better now… ~~~~~~ I'm not too sure about this one... I hope it's alright though... Not exactly what I'd call perfect but for something I haven't really put much thought into... it's... okay...
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Posted: Sat Mar 20, 2010 8:35 am
My Fizzle: And the caller ID said it was....
Once again, things got kind of weird. This is directly inspired by “Mort” by Terry Pratchett.
The phone rang again.
And again.
And again.
Mortimer sighed. He dreaded that phone. He only got 4 hours of sleep a day, and so very, very often he was woken up by the damn phone. He rolled over in bed and picked up the accursed phone grudgingly. The caller ID said it was his boss (of course. Who else had this number?) With a sigh he answered it.
“Hello?”
YOU ARE LATE AGAIN MORTIMER.
“Sorry boss. The last case last night was...”
GET TO WORK.
The phone went dead. (Haha, Mortimer thought. How witty.)
Mortimer stood up and stretched, feeling like, as was fitting, death warmed over. If it was possible, his boss would work him to death (Maybe a little over done with the death puns, Mortimer thought to himself.). The case last night had been a tough one. The old bugger just didn't want to go. He had hung out in the hospital room for hours.
But a job is a job, and who can complain in this economy? It was a job for life. (Maybe replacing death references with life references didn't help. It still sounded corny to Morty.)
The boy slicked his red hair back behind his ears and pulled on his black cloak. Well, time to get back to work, as always. No rest for the weary. Only two things are certain in life, after all, and Mortimer was no tax man.
He grabbed his scythe from the broom closet and headed out the door. Over 150,000 people die every day and Mortimer or one of his co-workers had to greet them at the end of the tunnel.
He would work all day, ushering the lost ones along, and in the end, everyone is lost.
Finally he would drag himself back home and go to sleep until the next morning, when the ringing phone would wake him again. It's a grueling life, but it's better than the alternative, Mortimer observed.
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Posted: Sun Mar 21, 2010 7:55 am
Fizzle: She looked into the road and waited.
My s**t keeps getting kind of weird...
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
-- - - - - - - -
How dare he keep her waiting! This was an out rage, a complete and utter out rage. She was the most powerful Psychic in one hundred leagues and she had come all the way on this miserable, dripping, chilling, unpleasant, mucky night on the request of a lost one, totally pro bono, and the Ghost she was supposed to meet was late.
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked into the road. She had better things to do than be there. Her two boys had school tomorrow, after all. She should be home making sure they were asleep, not out here waiting for some miserable little ghost to get his act together and make an appointment.
There was a tug on her robes from behind. A small man looked up at her, half his chest in the pavement and tilted his head to the side.
She sighed. “Finally you arrive. Well, come on up.” She said and stepped back so the boy could pull himself out of the road and dust himself off out of habit. He was a handsome young thing, his eyes light, his hair shaggy, his build good. “So, you're Margret Smith's boy, aren't you? Daniel?”
The young man nodded.
“You're late you know. I've been waiting.”
The man nodded again.
“And I'm doing this for free. It's very disrespectful, young man.”
Another nod.
She sighed. “Down to business. I dont have all night.” She took a small pad and pen out of her pocket and flipped through a few pages. “They tell me you've been stuck here in the road ever since that horse and carriage ran you down in the street last month. Can't even talk like this, can you? So I'm going to send you on your way, understand?”
He young man looked at his feet and nodded sadly.
“Oh come now, don't feel bad. You'll like the next stop.” She said and reached out, placing her hand on Daniel Smith's chest and closed her eyes. When she reopened them she was alone on the cold miserably little cobbled road.
She pulled her cloak tighter around herself and went home. Another job well done.
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Posted: Sun Mar 21, 2010 8:12 am
Wow! Something to do with ghosts? Or something... Ahahaha! It was cute, I dunno why... But! XD
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Posted: Sun Mar 21, 2010 8:22 am
keichaos Wow! Something to do with ghosts? Or something... Ahahaha! It was cute, I dunno why... But! XD Well the Fizzle said "into" the road, and I was like "into"? How can you look "into" a road? And then I thought "Ghosts could be inside a road, technically." And then my thoughts ran away with me.
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Posted: Sun Mar 21, 2010 8:43 am
Kyahahaha! That's very thoughtful of you, Ren-senpai! blaugh
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Posted: Sun Mar 21, 2010 10:22 am
Fizzle: Crystal ButterfliesSubject: So, I'm using these butterflies as a figure in a fantasy world. I really have no idea if there are real Crystal Butterflies but in this output, they are magical creatures... I think.My Fizzle Crystal Butterflies Crystal Butterflies…
They are beautiful, aren’t they? They have this soft glow that is so magical that a moment of staring at it would make your world dreamy. Their crystal bodies and brilliant wings always cheered me up even at the darkest times. How nice it is that you cast the same feeling as these Crystal Butterflies, a feeling of happiness and dreaminess at the same time.
However, dreams never suited me really. It’s not that I never dreamed my life or I despised it, no. It’s just dreaming something never had good effects on me. And at some moments I would break down and cry because you are the dream that never suited me. Now, I am beginning to realize that you are not only bringing happiness to me but also pain. Confusing, is it not?
Undeniably…
My heart is in a state of confusion. My mind is in a state of bewilderment. I am bewitched by you but I know that I can never reach you. I laugh. How funny it is; I never sounded so strange and confusing in my life. You are making me do this, silly.
“Ahna?” you softly called behind my ear. Your breath never felt so warm. I moved my body closer to you and felt your warmth. Ah, just as I thought. You feel like a dream, like those butterflies. However, as I thought earlier, dreams never suited me.
“Minus…” I began, my eyes closed to feel you. “I guess…” I drifted off and began again. I kept my eyes closed for the longest time. I wanted to feel you. I wrapped my arms all over your strong body and tears began to pour from my eyes, even though it was closed shut. My feeling began to pour along my tears.
But I, of all people, should know that Crystal Butterflies never suited me… So, this one is semi-random... what do you think, guys? Is this enough for a first-timer?
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Posted: Sun Mar 21, 2010 10:39 am
You used mine! ^-^
I really like it. It's very dreamy, and lonely and sad and....I liked it.
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Posted: Mon Mar 22, 2010 2:57 am
[Ren The Ryoko] You used mine! ^-^ I really like it. It's very dreamy, and lonely and sad and....I liked it. Really, Ren-senpai?! Oh! I tried to imitate you writing style actually but it was so hard! 4laugh
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Posted: Tue Mar 23, 2010 2:07 am
Fizzle: A flower garden on a space ship.Subject: So, a blossoming love? I really like it, to tell you the truth.My Fizzle The Floral Garden There was once a beautiful flower garden at this spaceship in the name of Galaxy Star. It was very unusual for spaceships to have flower gardens as they are very expensive and is totally unnecessary besides personal amusement. The garden consists of a huge plot of land and is supporting hundreds of different flowers of different sizes and shapes. And for that, Galaxy Star became popular.
Every day, Elena would come by at the garden to enjoy the scenery she made. You see, it was her project that proposed to make this expensive garden at Galaxy Star. She had been dreaming this perfect scenery all her life and she was mighty proud that she was the first person to ever finish one. That’s why she would come by at the recreation sector of the ship and spend most of her time in the garden; it gave her a sense of success and fulfillment.
But there was another factor that made this place more interesting than before. This was also the place where she first met one of the engineers of Galaxy Star, Tristan. He was a tall and handsome man that looked very ideal to her. She cannot say that she is truly or totally attracted to the man but she sure was enjoying most of her time when she’s with him. Love never came to her mind all these times and she was certain that it might be the last thing she might think whenever with him.
Until this day…
“Elena?” he called from behind her, sneaking from a tall bush housing big yellow flowers. She was obviously startled but she tried to keep it to herself and faced her new friend. The moment her eyes landed at the man’s face, she gave him a warm smile. He was also smiling back at her as he showed her a box of lunch (they often met during lunchtime).
And it was at that same moment when she realized something that she had never thought before. She tried to shake off the thought inside, thinking that it is only an illusion. But her efforts proved futile as the feeling or thought did not come off. It was stuck in her mind like crazy; she did not know what to do. She felt uncomfortable and confused. Why did it come just now? Why not when she first met him?
Yes, indeed, she was in love at the man before her.
Now, we just proved that the flower garden of Galaxy Star can bloom all kinds of flowers.
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Posted: Tue Mar 23, 2010 4:27 pm
Fizzle: Lightning in a Bottle.
My Fizzle:
No Sleep
Eyes the color of the Atlantic, belonging to none other than Clarissa Miles, were still focused on the dirty bottle. The bottle may have once been a holder for alcohol, or for a small, handmade boat. The past purpose of it meant nothing now, thanks to the sparks and bright lacework of electricity now residing inside the dirty glass. It never stopped cracking and fizzling. Yes, one experiment gone wrong and you never got any sleep again. The dreams long lost kept calling to you, but your eyelids were so resistant, they refused to slowly flutter closed, like they used to in the comforting darkness.Hair the color of chocolate now tangled, torn from its once beautiful appearance. Curls were now scraggly locks, unable to be combed. Magic was a tough business, wasn’t it? It tore everything from its former beauty, and took over the soul.
The only beauty now, in this rundown, dirty lab, was the lighting sparking and fizzling in the dirty glass bottle. The scientist's fingers had been working and twitching, and her cracked, waterless lips had been forming spell after spell for hours on end. Finally, there were bright strings of electricity forming inside the bottle, an endless, cloudless storm of success. Nothing could get the woman's eyes to close, even though with a sensible mind, she knew going to sleep was inevitable, sometime. Yet, her mind was not completely sensible, now was it? Being a magician and a scientist was even more confusing than just being a magician. Of course, no one believed in such a profession. All they did was accept the fact she did things, and was not a complete dimwit.
A draft from the broken window was all that came from the outside world. The only thing that kept the scientist from freezing to death was the fabricated thermostat inside her head. The whole lab might as well be fabricated, for all the woman cared. She wouldn't mind if she was in Africa, or on Jupiter. The smile on her lips was the first, and only smile on Clarissa Miles ever to be seen, and all because of the bottle. The dirty, former beer bottle that now held the one thing she had been searching for. Home made light.
A manic cackle managed to escape from the scientists' reluctant, rusty vocal chords. It was too loud, and she had yet to notice the skittish murmurs outside the wooden door, which was heat-sealed, so the cold didn't bother the poor old hallway. At least, that was what the thoughts in Clarissa's head said. It was really to protect the scientist from ever hearing these murmurs, which were seemingly always outside of her door. The murmurs then grew louder, and louder, and the manic cackle ceased all too suddenly. Her eyes grew wide, and the murmurs were now echoing through her mind. She clutched at her ears, clawing at them, as if if she tore them off, the sound would go away. Just as she was about to close her eyes for the first time in hours, the Atlantic colored orbs fixed upon the bottle. The lacework lighting had vanished.
Clarissa Miles' eyes opened, as she gasped, subconsciously clutching her ears, and she saw the whitewashed walls of her home. She had been dreaming.
That was random. First Fizzle ever, and it was fun.
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