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I lay you to rest
  In my head stored away to never return
  I'll forget everything you left back at home
  Please know I'm always looking back on our scripted memories
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Hobo Klown Porn

PostPosted: Sat May 26, 2007 9:29 pm


I wrote this story in the sixth grade, and just recently discovered it in the crevces of my closet. O.O. Anyways, I kind of want to know how it is. Its just an introduction, I'll add some later. ;] Anyways, I tried to think up a creative plot, but I must confess it was concieved after watching a SC-FI modern version of Frankenstien. I mean, how sweet would it be to just flipping grab some bod parts and- Ahem, enjoy. xD


The teen, a distant stranger in black, drizzled by rainfall and seemingly undisturbed by the rolling lightning and rumbling thunder, walked on the soaked cobbelstone roads as parents gripping their youngling's hand and scurried off into their housing units. The boy, between fourteen and sixteen, had kept his wet, black hair out of his eyes, usually a shaggy fit. He was thin, regular height young teen. Once blisfully, ridicoulsly, and totally happy. Once looking forward to every day with an undescirbable amount of joy mixed with pure love. He couldnt point his finger on it. He knew something was wrong with him. But everytime his mind tried to grasp what it was, it always slipped away, like when your holding a balloon in a nasty storm. Now, Tobias Waters was just in a soaked raven coat with a hat with a grim looking Chesire Cat on the back. The cat's teeth were yellow, bones a spolied color of milk, glowing eyes, and a violent more of a mischevious grin. Tobias, on the other hand, was fair skinned, his teeth were the color of untainted snow falling from a gray sky. Onlu two of his teeth were oddly mishapen. Sharp. Like a vampire. With his pyshical appearence, no one knew how crazy he was being driven. His mind was a meloncholy setting was a barren setting where he lay unconciously alone in a barren-frozen grass field. Trapped. Like an animal.

Even though Tobias had a gut feeling he should be.





Lets go back a few years. The date was September. 20, 2012. And like most late Septembers and early Novembers, the sunlight became short and the wind ripped at your skin making the hairs on your arm stand at full attention. The leaves were changing magician's magic, you either knew the trick or didnt, into purples, sickly greens, browns, and yellows. It was a breathtaking sight. The air was crisp between thick sweaters and instant tea.

A young, eager, handsome doctor appeared on the scene, taking the medical scene by storm. His name was Nicholas Callevi, Doctor Callevi. His hair was a thick brown and eyes black. Nicholas was fit, with a musical voice that matched his personality. Light, fun, stern when need be. Smart, too. The boy (Ahem, yong adult. Age twenty four.) had defiantly done his homework. Skipped two grades and went to college immediantly.

About a year of observing, testing, and recording,Nicholas had found a cure to cancer. Then, the common cold. Soon all major disease and illnesses were crumbling before the doctor in a span of five years. People were free of suffering. On his thirteith birthday, the date 2017, he was celebrated. Admired. Loved. Woem flirted and men congrtualted. Not only as their world virtaully illness freem but Nicholas was still young. Still helpful and full of ravenous blood.
He was, indeed, loved. The doctor was invincible.
But you could almost stay immune to danger and risk for so long.


The year was 2018. The month was August twelfth. Sticky, hot, and sweaty. A young adolecent, age eleven, came to Nicholas in tears, sobbing words he couldnt understand. A yellow sundress hung loosely over her sickly thin frame. She hardly managed words, she was shaking with fright. Nicholas examined her to try and fnd the source of his discomfort. But the girl slowly lifted her dress. On the right side of her navel was a golf ball sized lump. Black with hints of green and blue that looked like viens. It extened, thick and gooey line under her left breast. The breast was swollen with the line, and the gooey substance was in a circle around it, mow coming towards her collar bone. Nicholas stumbled over himself, shocked. He used his gloves and traced the unusual spot in his hand. She jerked back.

"Did that hurt you?" He inquired, his voice had a tremor.

The girl turned her hand over. The same unnaural things in the middle of her palm.

"Symptoms." He croaked. "What are your symptoms?"

How wrong the world was. But who knew? Maybe she never took his medicine. He held his breath, containing his sudden relief. Maybe a breast tumor. But,what tumor looked as sick as that?

"It bleeds," She mumbled slowly, hanging her head lows as well as her eyes. "I feel dizzy alot. I vomit often." The adolecent's ribs were hardly showing. "The smell is awful. Like, rotting flesh. And it peels. The peels are-" She leaned her head over to the side and let out wretching noises. he heard sobs.

Nicholas approached her and was repuled at what he saw. It was vomit, already. And bood. Saliva ran off the girl's lips onto her blemish free chin. She collasped, her head falling into the throw up. She twitched once, then stayed still like someone... dead. And so did Nicholas. He was frightened. Scared to death.

As months progressed, more and more people doubled with the same, mysterious illness. Some had the sickening lump on their face, neck, foot, even scalp. The majority had meduim sized lumps all over their bodies. People grew weak and fragile. It was a sad sight to watch. What was more sad, was to be apart of it.

The goverment begged Nicholas to find a cure. He accepted this as a challenge to his character. A enemy to his faith. He spent long hours up, studying and observing and testing Even more schocking news. People were now dieing. Conetents and contries were rapidly loosing their population to this. Nicholas had to hurry. He had to be the hero once again. This wasnt a job anymore, it was vital to his life. If he could solve cancer, he had to solve this. He had to.

Two years later, Nicholas was desperate. Growing old and tired. He only had one solution. Take the body parts of people who were dead or dieing and reattach it to those whom needed it from the disease. The people were appaled. They never thought the doctor wlould come to this. Not only did they shun the idea, they shunned the doctor who even embraced the thought.

He was loved, nor admired. He was hated and ignored. Heartbroken and betrayed, he retired into a small and old apartment of New York. No one knew that the once great Nicholas Callevi resided there. And one day, over time, the illness just..dissapeared.
But no one wanted the doctor anymore. They forgot, but never forgived. The countries more restriced there citizens, for fear that something devasting might happen again.

Nicholas came over to the eleven year old's house. She was now thirteen. She was paralyzed and most of her body parts were limp and useless. The next words that came from his lips were,

"Let me operate on you..."

And, desperate and blind, she did. Nicholas dug graves of deceases and even resorted to mudering the old or dieing. He gave the girl fresh, newly severed parts. She had no idea, just closed her eyes and smiled. Her name was Laura.

Then, the doctor had came across six other people. One was stranded at a railroad track, legs sliced clean off by a oncoming train, abanded by a friend. He whispered the same words he said to Luara. This was a boy, named Miles Fenton.

Another was a girl raped, laying dieing in a alleyway. Her stomach was cut open by her rapist and two Hello Kitty diamond necklaces were inserted. With the same sentence, he operated and fell in love with the inconcious girl. Her name was Dale-Ray. She had ash blonde hair and a sweet, angelic expression, even when sumbering. Deciding against "keeping" her, he dropped her off at a nearby house, but always watching her.

The other was a horribly disfigured infant. He took her back into his apartment, in his sickly smelling apartment room and sliced into her. She cried and wailed, he just sang a tune his own mother had hummed to him.
"Swing by, My lovely Nightengale,
Down take to long to take water from the river,
Or I'll have the stork deliver another Nightengale,
Oh-So-Beautiful as you."
And doorbelled a nearby orphanaged.

Next was an odd case. A boy was lieing alone in the woods, a huge bloody gash on his forehead and his stomach. Bullet holes splattered everywhere. A knife was in his handsand his arm was twisted back in self defense. His school ID card read, "Tobias Waters". He got the same surgery done.

Next were two twins, Phebeoine and Liaminoa. They both were holding hands, laying in the bed over a river. Under water. Their eyes were closed, but their legs looked tied up and their hair were flaoting with the current. A few bruises were on their legs and their mouths were partially open, like about to scream.

Nond of them had any knowlegde of how they got were they were, for they were too young or too brutally injured. But soon, that was all to change dramatically.

This is their story.
PostPosted: Sun May 27, 2007 10:31 am


Some feedback would be greatly appreciated, ;].

Hobo Klown Porn


Domerin Thompson

PostPosted: Sun May 27, 2007 11:10 am


Erm, I personally do not like the style. The narrator isn't really suppose to have much of a personality unless it is a character (first person). It also shouldn't ... talk directly to the writer. You are telling a story, not merely explaining events strung together. Also you have some serious spelling and grammar errors. Sorry, the story is intriging, but the writing is pretty ... awful. Descriptive, but too much a person, if you understand me.
PostPosted: Sun May 27, 2007 11:36 am


I totally and absolutely disagree with you, Domerin Thompson. I think since the narrator has "feelings" and strong willed opinions, it connects with the reader more. I think it was witty and well put together. I say this girl has talent.
3nodding
And, also, since the narrator does have tasteful personality, it makes you feel kind of like you are the narrator. It's ambiance.
12132424343444 out of 5.
One of the best storylines I've seen so far.
Excellent writing.
Creative.
Keep writing.
The only thing is spell check. Nothing a little editing can't fix. 3nodding

And it's spelled intrigued, DUH.

These Scene Shoes


Domerin Thompson

PostPosted: Sun May 27, 2007 11:39 am


Right - intrigued. I can't spell myself and I forgot the spell check.
PostPosted: Sun May 27, 2007 12:03 pm


Okay, I see These Scene Shoes has a point. So apart from the spelling and grammar, objectively it is a really good piece of work. I am sorry for my irrational critique before.

Domerin Thompson


something unsaid

PostPosted: Sun May 27, 2007 12:11 pm


Woah-wee.
This is just exsqusite. I don't have words to explain it.
It is hands-down wonderful. I love how the narrator has tasteful personality.
It makes the characters more real.
And you are just a beautiful writer. Update.
I want this story to have my babies.
<3
It is astounding. I ...
LOVE ...
It.
PostPosted: Sun May 27, 2007 12:19 pm


Does that guy know what he's talking about ...?
This story is, like, Jesus was bored one day and decided to write something.
JESUS.
It's really good. I love the narration because it's delicious like that.
The only thing is the grammer and blah.
But you have talent. I suggest you go to a writing company and get it published ...
.. NOW!
>=]
So do it. Now. I'm timing you.
Best story ever. =]

b l a h W0RDS


Domerin Thompson

PostPosted: Sun May 27, 2007 1:18 pm


H 0 L L Y W 0 0 D thrust
Does that guy know what he's talking about ...?
This story is, like, Jesus was bored one day and decided to write something.
JESUS.


Who are you talking about.
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