Post by Sixteen on May 22, 2009 13:29:22 GMT -5
This is a new piece of 667 fiction inspired partly by Tragedy. It should last for about eight or nine chapters. Please don't take offence if you're featured in a bad light at some point in the story; it doesn't reflect my opinion of you.
Chapter One
667 Dark Avenue wasn’t just a high-rise apartment block. It was a home. The inhabitants, or 667ers as they liked to be called, had a unique sense of community. Although they were spread across the building’s sixty-six floors, they often gathered for discussions or book club meetings. Life was good. As the years passed, however, the atmosphere changed. Some tenants left, never to return. New residents arrived on occasion but many rooms were left unoccupied. Discussions died down and rivalries arose between the remaining 667ers. The general state of the building was dwindling, but there were a few tenants in particular that were causing the most damage to their once-beloved home.
Mijahu was new to 667 Dark Avenue. He had arrived long after most of the other residents, but even he could tell that the place was different. He couldn’t be bothered doing anything about it, though. In fact, Mijahu rarely left the comfort of his couch. It was the perfect place for sitting and sleeping. He kept his weed close by and the television was constantly playing Seth Rogen DVDs. Why would he need to move? Sure, there was a knock on the door from time to time but it was never anything worth getting up for. It had been about a week since Mijahu had left his room but that didn’t bother him. He curled up in a ball and began to snore.
Charlotte was infamous in the apartment block. As the residents arrived home with their groceries, they made sure to be alert at all times. If they lost concentration for even a second their food would be snatched from their hands. When Charlotte wasn’t eating, she was talking about food and when people told her to shut up, she just thought about what she was going to have for dinner. Locks had been installed on all refrigerators and cabinets to keep her out. She rummaged through her collection and began to feast.
Elle was a renowned artist in the city. Her paintings hung in galleries and she had sold thousands of copies of her comics. So when the 667ers named TK as the best artist in the building, Elle was deeply hurt. She couldn’t believe that they valued TK more than her. She threatened to leave 667 numerous times in fits of jealousy but it was pointless. They had made their choice and now she had to settle for second-best.
Tragedy was the landlord of 667 Dark Avenue. He leased out the apartments to everyone in the building. This meant he had a key to each room, to the misfortune of the female residents. He would often wander in while they were changing, only to stare long and hard at their bodies. There wasn’t a woman in 667 that he hadn’t tried to seduce, and even some of the men had fallen victim to his insatiable libido. Tragedy looked through his homemade files to choose his next target.
Shelly was a cute Australian girl that had been living at 667 for years. Most of the other tenants saw her as a genuinely friendly, nice person. But they couldn’t see past her bubbly exterior. Deep down inside, Shelly was filled with rage. On a regular basis she was consumed with an all-powerful anger that couldn’t be controlled. She held a pillow to her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.
BSam and Trikip were 667 rivals. They tried their best to be hilarious when speaking to the other 667ers. They insulted each other at every opportunity and turned everything into a joke. This reached breaking point when the vote for funniest resident was announced. BSam and Trikip both went to extreme measures to ensure they would win over the voters. Their greed for votes caused them to campaign day and night. Their attempts were futile as the vote ended in a tie.
Dante was the most intellectual 667er and he knew it. He had dedicated his life to studying the works of Lemony Snicket and wrote several theses based on ASOUE. He would often display certificates outside his apartment for the other residents to see. Nothing made him happier than being complimented on his single-handed organisation of 667’s library. Dante smiled as he polished his awards.
Of course it came as a surprise to each of these residents when they awoke one morning beside each other on cold, hard ground.
“Where are we?” Shelly grumbled, rubbing her head.
Charlotte picked up a stone from the barren ground and nibbled on it while Mijahu continued sleeping beside her. Elle stood up, causing Tragedy’s head to swivel round.
“There’s some sort of wall over there,” she said, pointing. BSam jumped up, hoping to get there first but Trikip followed hot on his heels. Dante watched them smugly as if he knew exactly what was happening.
The eight 667ers crossed the wasteland towards a wrought-iron gate. It looked like this place hadn’t seen civilisation in a long time. As they got closer to the wall, they realised that on top of the gate stood two letters: UE. This meant nothing to the 667ers, but one message came across loud and clear. Scrawled into the side of the wall was a short warning.
“Abandon hope all ye who enter here,” Dante read aloud.
Looking at each other warily, the sinners crossed the boundary into the unknown.
Chapter One
667 Dark Avenue wasn’t just a high-rise apartment block. It was a home. The inhabitants, or 667ers as they liked to be called, had a unique sense of community. Although they were spread across the building’s sixty-six floors, they often gathered for discussions or book club meetings. Life was good. As the years passed, however, the atmosphere changed. Some tenants left, never to return. New residents arrived on occasion but many rooms were left unoccupied. Discussions died down and rivalries arose between the remaining 667ers. The general state of the building was dwindling, but there were a few tenants in particular that were causing the most damage to their once-beloved home.
Mijahu was new to 667 Dark Avenue. He had arrived long after most of the other residents, but even he could tell that the place was different. He couldn’t be bothered doing anything about it, though. In fact, Mijahu rarely left the comfort of his couch. It was the perfect place for sitting and sleeping. He kept his weed close by and the television was constantly playing Seth Rogen DVDs. Why would he need to move? Sure, there was a knock on the door from time to time but it was never anything worth getting up for. It had been about a week since Mijahu had left his room but that didn’t bother him. He curled up in a ball and began to snore.
Charlotte was infamous in the apartment block. As the residents arrived home with their groceries, they made sure to be alert at all times. If they lost concentration for even a second their food would be snatched from their hands. When Charlotte wasn’t eating, she was talking about food and when people told her to shut up, she just thought about what she was going to have for dinner. Locks had been installed on all refrigerators and cabinets to keep her out. She rummaged through her collection and began to feast.
Elle was a renowned artist in the city. Her paintings hung in galleries and she had sold thousands of copies of her comics. So when the 667ers named TK as the best artist in the building, Elle was deeply hurt. She couldn’t believe that they valued TK more than her. She threatened to leave 667 numerous times in fits of jealousy but it was pointless. They had made their choice and now she had to settle for second-best.
Tragedy was the landlord of 667 Dark Avenue. He leased out the apartments to everyone in the building. This meant he had a key to each room, to the misfortune of the female residents. He would often wander in while they were changing, only to stare long and hard at their bodies. There wasn’t a woman in 667 that he hadn’t tried to seduce, and even some of the men had fallen victim to his insatiable libido. Tragedy looked through his homemade files to choose his next target.
Shelly was a cute Australian girl that had been living at 667 for years. Most of the other tenants saw her as a genuinely friendly, nice person. But they couldn’t see past her bubbly exterior. Deep down inside, Shelly was filled with rage. On a regular basis she was consumed with an all-powerful anger that couldn’t be controlled. She held a pillow to her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.
BSam and Trikip were 667 rivals. They tried their best to be hilarious when speaking to the other 667ers. They insulted each other at every opportunity and turned everything into a joke. This reached breaking point when the vote for funniest resident was announced. BSam and Trikip both went to extreme measures to ensure they would win over the voters. Their greed for votes caused them to campaign day and night. Their attempts were futile as the vote ended in a tie.
Dante was the most intellectual 667er and he knew it. He had dedicated his life to studying the works of Lemony Snicket and wrote several theses based on ASOUE. He would often display certificates outside his apartment for the other residents to see. Nothing made him happier than being complimented on his single-handed organisation of 667’s library. Dante smiled as he polished his awards.
Of course it came as a surprise to each of these residents when they awoke one morning beside each other on cold, hard ground.
“Where are we?” Shelly grumbled, rubbing her head.
Charlotte picked up a stone from the barren ground and nibbled on it while Mijahu continued sleeping beside her. Elle stood up, causing Tragedy’s head to swivel round.
“There’s some sort of wall over there,” she said, pointing. BSam jumped up, hoping to get there first but Trikip followed hot on his heels. Dante watched them smugly as if he knew exactly what was happening.
The eight 667ers crossed the wasteland towards a wrought-iron gate. It looked like this place hadn’t seen civilisation in a long time. As they got closer to the wall, they realised that on top of the gate stood two letters: UE. This meant nothing to the 667ers, but one message came across loud and clear. Scrawled into the side of the wall was a short warning.
“Abandon hope all ye who enter here,” Dante read aloud.
Looking at each other warily, the sinners crossed the boundary into the unknown.