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Post by Dear Dairy on Apr 18, 2008 19:01:32 GMT -5
Somebody should write something Several people have -- myself included. I'm trying (with difficulty) to be patient. BSam has a big job to do in making all this coherent.
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Post by BSam on Apr 19, 2008 0:09:59 GMT -5
i currently have only one peice (by DDairy) which i havn't posted, and i've rather use that in the near future
if other people would like to write more feel free.
if my brain is working later today i might do some writing but i am exhausted
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Post by Kobolos on Apr 20, 2008 11:56:12 GMT -5
I can't wait to see the ending...oh wait, I know the ending..
*begin spoiler*
The Joy of Cooking Page 662
*end spoiler* [/color]
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Post by PJ on Apr 20, 2008 22:21:25 GMT -5
I'm totally still in this it's just everything is all hectic at the moment.
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Post by Vacuum Pot on Apr 25, 2008 14:54:49 GMT -5
As busy as my life is right now, I can't add any more at this moment...
But, besides that, the story has become incredibly confusing and tangled. Perhaps Sammy should write a few sections to give us some direction and clarity?
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Post by BSam on Apr 25, 2008 16:29:55 GMT -5
yeah. when i get home, perhaps. busy week ahead
this will not die. it's just having a rest for a bit (assuming no-one else can write for the now)
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Post by PJ on Apr 26, 2008 0:26:06 GMT -5
Yeah, so many new characters in so little time. And all the backstories and timelines and stuff. It's crazy.
I agree with Who. Sam, fix it.
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Post by BSam on Apr 26, 2008 0:36:17 GMT -5
don't worry. we're up to the fun part
people have written themselves into the story, now for everyone else to kill them off.
i'll start soon. promise
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Post by PJ on Apr 26, 2008 7:38:09 GMT -5
Chapter 10
The group stared at the place BSam had just been standing in. He was gone. Completely. He hadn’t run, they hadn’t heard footsteps, there was no time. He’d just vanished.
“Well, shi-“ PJ didn’t manage to finish the sentence before he and Mr. Who were also removed from the room in a flash. Pandora huddled up to Willis in terror and Jay grabbed Sixteen forcefully by the arm. “Nobody move!” Jay screamed, and suddenly, she and Sixteen where whisked away.
When the universe seemed to settle back into place, Jay and Sixteen found themselves in dank and dusty room filled with mounds of even dustier junk. A few weak rays of light entered through a dirty window, which barely managed to illuminate the gloomy room. “I think we’re in an attic,” Sixteen said, at last.
Jay sat on the floor with a sob. “What the hell do we do now? Why did we get separated from the rest of them?” “That’s a good question. Why did we get separated? I mean, why do you think our captors separated us?” “It’s more scary when we’re separated,” Jay ventured, staring dismally into space. “Maybe. But is it really just trying to scare us? What if it split us up so that it’d be easier to kill us?” Jay turned her blank gaze on to Sixteen. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” she said, softly. “I don’t know what I want,” Sixteen replied, with a sigh.
“Can it really kill us, though?” Jay asked, after a few moments of silence. “How do you mean?” “Well, so far, it’s just been pulling spooky stuff. Summoning us here into the house, teleporting us around. In a word, mind games. What if it can’t actually physically kill us?” “Couldn’t it just…I dunno…teleport us into a wall or underground or something?”
They considered the possibilities in silence.
After a while, Sixteen set out to explore the attic, and found that the only door out of the place – a tiny, cramped thing – was seemingly bolted shut from the outside. They were trapped. Again. Trapped in a trap. Sixteen sat down and swore for a bit, while Jay began to root through the random junk in the attic, looking for something – anything – that might help them get out of this room. She grew bored after a while, and the light began to fade. When it was dark, she and Sixteen began to talk to each other, speaking about their lives, what had gone wrong, what had gone right, and what the future might hold. When their voices finally grew hoarse, and they were wasn’t a glimmer of light around, they fell into a deep, troubled asleep.
PJ and Mr. Who found themselves all of a sudden in the pool. Panicking, they trashed around, fighting to find the surface, though they didn’t know which way it was. Who broke to the surface first, coughing violently and greedily gulping down the fresh air. He realized after a moment that PJ had yet to surface, and, taking a deep breath, dived back down to rescue him. PJ was thrashing wildly under water and almost drowned them both when he painfully gripped Mr. Who’s arm and wouldn’t let go.
Who hauled the journalist up to the surface and somehow managed to throw him onto the edge of the pool, where PJ lay coughing and choking. Who clambered out after him and lay down on the grass, panting for a moment, catching his breath. Recovering, he took a look at PJ, who was still violently coughing. Who rolled him over and, unsure of what to do, punched him roughly in the lungs, expelling a fountain of water from PJ’s mouth. PJ’s breathing returned to normal, if a bit ragged, but he didn’t seem to be conscious.
Mr. Who waited for a few minutes, but his companion didn’t wake up. He decided to enter the house again to see if he could find any of the others. He didn’t encounter anybody until he came back into the room in which they had all congregated. There he found a hysterical Pandora, sobbing and crying with blood all over her hands. “Pandora! What happened?” Who asked, alarmed. She looked up at him, the fear shining in her eyes. “I tried…I couldn’t…we’re all going to die in here,” she said, in a whisper. “Are you all right? What happened to the others?” “I can’t…I don’t understand…why…he’s so angry, and he’s always in such horrific pain and…he just wants to leave and….he…he just…they all went, he killed them all. And he’ll do it again to us.” “Slow down, and tell me what happened. We’ll get out of this together. I promise.” Pandora laughed, bitterly. “You’re so stupid. Don’t you see? He can’t, he won’t just let us go. And we can’t…we can’t fight him. How can we fight him? He’s as old as the bricks and the wood and the foundations themselves… he is the past, present and future of this place. The painting! I think it’s important, but he won’t tell me how and…and…” her voice trailed away and her eyes suddenly grew large.
“He’s coming! He’s coming oh god he’s coming again for me and…I won’t let him take him.” her voice raised into a shriek and she pulled something from her jacket. And before Mr. Who could do anything she pointed the pistol at her head and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered the walls and Mr. Who ran, and didn’t look back once, the mindless fear burning through his entire being. He ran into a wet and bedraggled looking PJ at the entrance and fell to his knees with a sob and told him.
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Post by Vacuum Pot on May 1, 2008 22:45:44 GMT -5
*splashes water*
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Post by Alice Wilde on May 10, 2008 16:06:25 GMT -5
All right, so I read it. I don't want Sam to die, you see, to the point where I refuse to read anything about his death at all, particularly a groupfic that actually advertises his death in the title. But I read it and, I must say...confusing.
But good.
This last part that PJ tied the others together a bit. I liked PJ's part two the best thus far, though the others were nice. His character has an interesting voice, you know? But seriously the others are grand. It's not every day you see Songbird writing about smelling urine, after all.
I sound like I'm not praising this. Really, I am. I like it a lot. It's great. And suspenseful. It's better than all the Saw movies combined.
Please please continue.
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Post by PJ on May 10, 2008 20:30:49 GMT -5
Right back at you, sweetcheeks.
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Post by Deleted on May 24, 2008 13:00:00 GMT -5
This fic was too good and creative to let it die, guys. I might try to write a part. Everybody else should too.
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Post by BSam on May 25, 2008 21:01:24 GMT -5
maybe i will too.
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Post by Vacuum Pot on May 26, 2008 10:29:52 GMT -5
I'll write more when school's out.
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