forum This is painful

Started February 11, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

I'm going through my old writing. Not just writing from one or two years ago, but the stuff that I made when I was twelve (I'm 16 now).

I dare you to copy and paste your old writing in the replies XD

when i was in third grade, i loved making google docs with my other school friends and i was kind of like obsessed with pusheen the cat so i found a doc with me and my friends and it is sooooooooooooo cringy i cant even

Mark lead Zatoi through the street, they didn’t speak. Zatoi wondered why he was taking him to Rio he wasn’t complaining but it didnt make sense, if he worked for Rio then why would he want Zatoi anywhere near him Rio should know that the only thing he had in mind was taking back his army. Zatois gaze bored into the back of Marks mind he hadnt tested out just how powerful he was but as
far as he`d seen he could dodge bullets and had the power to push his hand clean through a human body with little effort. A thought forced its way to the front of his mind
</p>

-what is my ability?- he wondered, he took a moment to consider the possibilities, it was possible he was a dual type between speed and strength but it felt like it was more than that he felt invincible. He couldn’t get cocky, pride could destroy him in itself. He wondered what Carissa would do in this situation, exiled from his source, his forces taken away from him, probably walking into Rio Giraud’s trap he scowled at his own insolence

“this way” Mark spoke suddenly turning off the street and started up the steps to a small business building. Zatoi followed him up noting the closed curtains as Mark opened one of the glass doors and held it open for him. On the inside it was empty, not a single piece of furniture in sight; a single lamp sat on the floor in front of him illuminating the room 

“Mark” Zatoi spoke slowly “we`ve fought many battles as brothers in arms, does that mean nothing to you?” there was no response. “Mark!” Zatoi whirled around to see no one there, he quickly scanned the room before starting to back to the doors. As he reached them he paused, he came here to do whatever it took to get his army back not retreat with his tail between his legs at the first sign of danger. He made quick strides towards the lamp expecting an attack at any moment but nothing happened “I’m waiting” he picked up the lamp “lets get this done you coward” he quickly made his way back to the wall and began to walk the perimeter of the room searching for some passage or door he tried to recall what Mark`s ability, he ended up going with energy. After going around a second corner a corridor just as dark as the room he was in came into view, he came to a pause listening: he could hear voices from the corridor as far as he could tell they hadn’t noticed him. He tried to comprehend the situation he was letting his mind wander too much, Mark clearly wanted to lead him here but then left him alone for what? Was this a test?

“what’s that light?” Zatoi flinched, they had noticed his light of course they’d notice a lamp in the darkness! He cursed his stupidity and quickly rushed to the corridor

“its Zatoi! Take him down!” in a moment with the light he had Zatoi could make out three men and two women all of them preparing to attack, Zatoi realized multiple things in that moment. 1) every one of the people in front of him had abilities 2) attempting to fight them head on would be suicide no matter how powerful he was 3) he couldn’t get out of control like he did on Omara, aside from a few stray rumors the Shinzen believe he is still on Omara exposing himself here would have him captured almost immediately and 4) it was probably a bad idea to go walking through the sidewalk out in the open like he did earlier. One of the men clearly a speed class rushed forward at him swinging a knife at him, Zatoi caught his swing at the wrist and smashed the lamp against his face, the man crumbled to the floor while everyone else was plunged into darkness. Zatoi took a breath.

“I’m right here” he said loudly, he felt a rush of wind and instinctively stepped back

-another speed class?-

A fist caught him in the stomach but didn’t have much of an effect, immediately Zatoi grabbed ahold of it and yanked hard there was a delay before a body crashed into him

-limb extension- he realized as the person wrapped what seemed to be their legs around his, he struggled to maintain his balance but ended up falling backwards

“Fire here!” a woman’s voice shouted as the person unwrapped themselves from him but Zatoi wouldn’t let them get away, he reached out and pulled the person back just as two balls of fire descended on them she screamed in agony as the flames engulfed her, Zatoi felt nothing.

“Melinda!” another woman’s voice shouted, Zatoi rolled out from under the screaming body and hurled it at the voice, the light of the fire allowed him to pinpoint the two others one spawning another fireball and the other was Mark. He rushed at them, in a moment he was in the fire users face grabbing his arm and flipping him onto his back, the fireball vanished leaving him a dull view from the other fire

“well done Zatoi” Mark said “you killed all four of them” he paused “well Melinda and Abbey aren’t dead yet but they’ll get ther-“ Zatoi never let him finish, in a blur he spun and smashed his fist against Marks skull crushing it on impact and hurling his body into the darkness. Zatoi examined his body, he was covered in burns and his hand looked like it was broken In 26 different ways

“Zatoi Zatoi Zatoi” an unfamiliar voice spoke as lights on the ceiling began to illuminate the room “what am I going to do with you?” Zatoi froze. this was the man; he wore a black and white suit that was so simple it was wrong, everything was off about him, every breath he took sent chills down Zatoi`s spine, everything about him set off alarms in Zatoi`s head. Rio Giraud. Ah, the cringe XD

@cgc.who.locked334 mine are all in google docs too and I just found one titled "Pure Destruction" and I don't remember what it was about but I can feel the oncoming cringe attack just by the title

@Paperok when did you write that?

Middle school, I'm in high school now

I opened one of my old writings and saw "I pulled out my ipod as and turned on my Taylor Swift playlist." and closed it so damn fast there's no way I'll be able to finish reading that without crying in pain

@Paperok It's not that bad for somebody in middle school. A bit confusing, but not bad.

XD, there there Jensenbear. Your name wouldn't happen to be referencing the Jensen is think it's referencing is it?

@Paperok actually, Jensen is my name.

Challenge accepted. I'll find a good one for ya (and by good I mean cringe as hell). I wrote this when I was 14:

"“Who are you?” he growled. “Explain yourselves!” X couldn’t bring himself to speak, so Terrel confronted the strangers once again.

“We are lost travelers,” he began, speaking loudly and with authority. “We were chased up the mountain by wolves from the Deep Wood. We mean no harm! If anything, we need your help–”

“Silence!” the man spat, raising up his hand. Then he hissed, “You speak lies, spy!” The man, obviously the leader of the band, spoke to his men with the spears. “Seize them!” he said. The men came towards X and Terrel, surrounding them closer in and then grabbing their arms.

“Wait!” X yelled for the first time. When he saw the warriors roughly grab for Trenna, he tried to keep her away from them, but they yanked her from his arms. “Don’t hurt her!” He angrily yelled as he struggled against the men holding his arms fast. But he was drained of all his strength, and he gave up his fight immediately after one man jabbed the butt of his spear into X’s stomach."

oOHHHHHHH MANNNN THE DRAMAAA

The "growled" and the "speaking loudly and with authority" and the "spat" and "hissed" and all the exclamation points… "YOU SPEAK LIES, SPY!!! SEIZE THEMMMM!" I can just SEE the spittle flying from his mouth. It's the little things that make a piece of writing truly great. Or truly bad.

@Masterkey I've got something jam packed with cringe. I bet you can't beat this, lol.

“Come on mom!” I shouted in the hallway. We were going to the beach. I have never been to this beach before. It was in Santa Cruz. We barely went to Santa Cruz, so I didn’t want to waste any time. From where we lived, it was a two hour drive. I got up super early, at 5:00. That only gave me an hour to get ready though. If this was going to be the perfect day, I had to have everything.
Towels? Check. Bathing suit? Check. Extra clothes? Check. Flip flops? Check. Phone? Check. Earbuds? Check.
I took a quick look in the mirror before I left. I had the same long caramel colored hair, same hazel eyes, and the same summer tan.
I had everything now. The ride won't be boring either. I will make it fun. This, will be the best day of my life!
"Okay mom, I'm ready!" I yelled from our garage. She ran out the door, my two sisters and one brother behind her.
My mom started the car, and I turned on my phone. I played Get Lucky by Daft Punk. We all loved this song, so we were singing it loud.
I played better than revenge by Taylor Swift. I was singing and playing songs until we got there. My favorite thing to do. I love music, and singing. My mom always says that I’m a wonderful singer, but, duh! She’s my mom! Of course she’s going to say that!
When we arrived, I rushed out the door as my mom paid at the booth. I spun and sang on this beautiful sunny day.

(I can't. I just can't. Why would I write this?? Seriously, Better Than Revenge by Taylor Swift???)

Hahaha that was great. XD (The SAME caramel hair? You don't say!) I had a problem with over-editing and deleting all my old stuff so that no one can find it, so I wish I could beat you but I can't. :(

@Masterkey Yeah, I had that problem too. I guess I was lucky (sort of) that I saved a few old stories, but I've about 20 more works that I can remember and I deleted them and I'm not able to recover those ones, which makes me kind of sad. Some of them I still have encrypted on my laptop and completely forgot the password though, lol.

Hello. My name is @@jynandor. I accept your challenge. Prepare to die inside:

I woke up due to the fact that my Captain of the Guard, Lawrence, had shaken me awake. His young face was worried, his long, curly brown hair was done hastily in a ponytail reminiscent to the colonial age books I had read at my palace’s library, a wall to wall paradise of books, thumbed through by me and my family for ages.
“Queen Emilia, they've come for you. You must leave as soon as possible,” he said urgently, and I glanced at the door to my room. My other guards had assembled there, weapons out, ready to die to keep my out of the Government’s clutches. At nineteen and the sole heir to my family's throne, I was a prime candidate for an ally, but after the ever-faithful Lawrence had received word from the inside about atrocities being committed in the Government’s name, we had been biding our time until they struck and overthrew me. I rushed into my bathroom and changed into my least royal looking clothes. I grabbed a satchel and threw in a knife, a rosary, some spare clothes and hygiene products, my mother’s wedding ring, a necklace with the family crest on it, and my personal handgun. We were all armed in the Colony. That's what the Government calls our home. It was formerly used as a disposal for criminals by the land dwellers, but soon became a home for the nonconformists and unusual people. Over time, wars wiped out the land dwellers, each and every one, and the world above had become a barren wasteland. People have been sent up to investigate before, to see if it was livable, but none have come back, whether that is because the Government had killed them or something up there had, nobody knows, and most aren't eager to find out.
“Hurry,” Lawrence said, “If they storm the castle while we're inside, we're done for.” He glanced out the window, his eyebrows creasing, and ordered;
“Guards, get out there and don't let them in.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door. I clutched my gun in a death grip. If I was going down, I was going down fighting.
“Listen, Emilia,” Lawrence began, “Whatever you do, whatever might happen, I've got your back. You focus on running. Don't stop if I fall.” He was serious, I could tell, which was fairly unusual for him.
“No, you aren't going to die. You're too young,” I said, attempting to lighten the mood. I knew that the stakes were high, but I had known Lawrence for many years; he was only four years older than me, a captain at 23. I didn't want to I imagine him dying, or any of my guards dying, for that matter.
“If only the Government agreed,” he said sadly. He probably was thinking about his father, I mused, who had been assassinated along with my parents when he was sixteen and I was twelve.
“I can convince them otherwise,” I replied. It was likely; I had a way with words. Lawrence says it comes from all of the old soundtracks from musicals I have in the library. The Government banned them for ‘spreading dangerous ideas’, but we kept them anyways. They've definitely taught us a lot of useful information.
“I'll bet you can,” he said with a nod, a small grin flickering across his face, and he took off down the hallway. I followed in a close pursuit, my eyes scanning for any enemy soldiers. We climbed out the window and leapt onto the stone catwalk several feet above ground.
“Emilia, there's something I've got to tell you. Remember the soundtrack we love?” Lawrence began.
“Yes,” I said. I began to remove the pins from my long brown hair so it cascaded down my back.
“I knew you did. You've got to be your own girl, like your mother but bolder,” he said, and I grinned. I loved that soundtrack and listened to it nearly every day. I heard yelling and loud footsteps in the distance, and Lawrence and I broke into a run.
“Alright, focus on getting cover. If they can't see you, they can't shoot you. Usually.” Lawrence ordered.

@jyandor if that's what you call bad writing, then I want to see what you write now because that vocabulary is lit, and you seem like you have some pretty good ideas there (I literally made up stories about dragons and demons. And then I made one where this girl had some special power where she could see and feel certain mountains that nobody even knew were there… so she decided to climb them…. kill me)

@Jensonbear Aw thanks! It’s the worst one I have that I didn’t delete or isn’t a fanfic!

@jyandor you must be an amazing writer then! (also we should make a vow to never delete any of our writing, no matter how bad it is)

Here's the first few paragraphs from Predator, the second NaNo novel I ever wrote. (Hit 25k! yay! if only it didn't suck lmao) I was really hyping up the aikitas lol

“Nngh!”

The man grunted and looked up at the island ahead. This was it. His chance to prove he could be more than a tamer at a local circus. He looked at his crew. How had he managed to simply walk straight into the pole in his ship while looking straight at it ..? Anyways, the island was close. They were almost there.

Meanwhile, the forest on the island was peaceful. There was nothing to fear. Birds were chirping, squirrels were quarrelling and the smell of honey was in the air. There was not a honey-eating creature to be found.

Someone(or something) from another island or continent or even the mainland would think this is strange, seeing as they have a similar issue. Here on the small (somewhat)circular island of Circurra, meaning chaotic in the language of Kurei, lived a species similar to the wolf. Their lean bodies are larger than that of the wolf, and their tails are usually much longer. These canines were and are still known as Aikita Katakune(aee-kee-ta ka-ta-koo-nay), directly translated to Travestial Nature but meaning Nature’s Curse. Not even the mighty giant bear dares to approach an Aikita in battle. Three to one, the bears would STILL be outnumbered. The Aikita is just that smart, cunning and not to mention sly.

(Challenge accepted lmao. This is the oldest piece of fiction i've got published, way back in 2012, and I honestly forgot about it until I went looking. ^^; )

Five o'clock. The room is empty.

Five o' two. A man, heavy of breath and slight of build, forces his way past the door and into the room. He carries a pencil and a journal, gripping both tightly to his chest as he shuts the door. The clock ticks away, ignoring the man's plight.

Five o' five. The frantic scratching of a pencil on paper echoes through the room. The man is writing quickly, glancing up at the clock face every few seconds. Outside the door, he hears breathing almost as heavy as his and the faint jingle of chains across stone. The clock steadily ignores everything; it's only concern is the passage of time.

Five ten. The room is silent once again, the man concerned with the contents of the room, hurriedly looking through a bookcase and pulling out random titles, only to toss them to the floor moments later. The breathing outside has stopped, but the sound of chains has gotten louder. The clock is ticking.

Five fifteen. Scratching at the door is audible; whatever is outside is likely leaving deep gouges in the wood. The man seems to be panicking. The clock continues to mark time.

Five twenty. He is now clawing frantically at the bookcase as if he believes it leads somewhere. The noise outside has grown louder, accompanied by a low whining. Then, everything is quiet. The man relaxes. The clock is still ticking.

Five twenty-one. The door breaks and the man screams, scrambling over the carelessly strewn books. The whining is louder, now a low buzz, before stopping completely. The man opens his mouth to scream, but doesn't get the chance as he is ripped apart. The clock marks a passage of three minutes.

Five twenty-four. The monster leaves, chains dragging through blood and leaving a trail out the door. The journal is left undisturbed on the desk. The clock ceases ticking.

Five twenty-five. The clock slinks off the wall, a grin grotesquely splitting its face. It picks up the journal with an unbecoming carefulness, and tears all the pages out. It tosses the pages into the piles of now-ruined books with a quick nod before leaving the room as well.

Five thirty. The room is empty.

@Jensenbear lol I wish I was!

@FantaPop honestly you guys are so much better at writing than me. I wrote about listening to Taylor Swift and dragons singing let it go at age twelve oh lordy

Thats something I´d read XD

@Paperok lmao

This is something I can't even look at. AND I HAVE TO TYPE THIS OUT BECAUSE IT IS ON MY NOTEBOOK. And I didn't even attempt to edit it or continue it… ugh, I have to great urge to do that, but here it is, raw from the depths of a worn 99 cent notebook. Okay, enjoy. AND IT DOESN'T EVEN RHYME! ONLY THE FIRST FEW LINES!. ugh. okay, now I'll stop talking.

You dish out nice comments and "happy birthday"'s like a fairy god-mother. You're not my mother, you don't even know my favorite color.
You write all these heartfelt tributes and prayers that you post, but what really matters the most?
You say to the bartender, "Here's my dignity, I've have likes all around, please."
You're drunk! Drunk on likes!
Who cares if you've got 5,000 followers! Are they all gonna attend your funeral?
When your heart stops working, do you "friends" keep looking?
Stop living for the blue thumbs up, it's just an emoji.
Stop giving power to people's finger tips, you're not that small.
Stop chronicling your life out on social media.

You're more than your followers, likes, hearts, and retweets. The number you see isn't the number that's REALLY there.
Live your life being there instead of seeming there.
Look at your loved ones, but not through the phone.
Give a genuine smile instead of your best.
What do you get when you see 6k likes? You're still the same person. It's just a temporary tattoo to make you feel cool, for now.
How about later, when it wears off? Do you still have friends? Or do they see your bare skin and run off?
Stop living a lie.