They're mail box links. No I dunno how to put up word files links
Hmmm.
If it doesn't work for you it would probably not work for anyone I think.
Magistrate mentioned something about posting on web page I might check with him on that. And as you can see I usually fail my computer courses pretty hard.
So I do this all the time. Quitting. I need someone to tell me should I continue add on detail for the camp site until I find the right one and edit every detail into this major struture, or should I just scratch the detail and curl up on a book like Stephen King suggested so I can recapture the exact picture on writting a book. Or maybe I should just forget about the detail and continue writting down the story.
Stephen king suggested reading for hours (eight hours to be exact) before writting (and this is eight hours too). Because I know what I'm focusing on is unimportant, finishing the entire thing is job one, so basically I'll try to go back to the writting desk
This is not my material, but this is something inside the same universe, and if it works out, I'll take it into one of my stories. And yes, this is suppose to be a short story, when I mean short story I'm still meaning this is something that has a good load on it. (45~80)
I think I just need someone to tell me to finish it, and that's just me blurring senseless things.
In the mean time, this is the chunk of project I mustard up this morning.
I haven't touch any of my real project for a year now, my professors are also confused that if I ever wanted was to become a writer. Why would I torture myself so? Well I'm weak is that what you want me to say X(
My assignment for an out line, this is an idea I whiped up during the class, and later on completed. It's suppose to be an outline anyway.
I have forty worth of projects in mind, and twelve or so of them are books.
I find posting to people helps structuring them alot.
The Fat Man is simply related to the power I'm writting about, it if ever was going to have an end, it will still be a short story.
Electro Masses is gibberish I tried on, yes I simply tried writting random thoughts to sent to my teacher as a finished assignment. I backed out because it really wasn't going any where.
The chunk: The First Worship
Down where East seventeen county highways now is, you take a cut from where the last few mile on seventeen goes bad, the tires would be age into slow mode. The driver cannot get out of the car because it’s muddy in that sector, and if your passenger tries the road? Well there’s no point getting your car carpet too disgusting. A hose had been set on the outer part of the road for campers that tries to step into their childhood favorite camping site and failed. And dirt mountain-biker hiking their bikes along with the drive-bys and wants to try their steel on something grassy, soft. But they don’t know the ground inside these woods are dog nights, bad mushy-mush. The Ray-Red Laser and Bubble Gum camp site. Only those of us who won the tournament of shooting fake laser beams at eachother will know about this place, and dresses in orange and red space suit with giant chest pockets to scoop trophies in; stack up forest-bomb to concentrate areas so our-enemys-are-in-for-a-spook! While we shit ourself. Completely paralyzed until another kid ran into our maze. Yeap kiddo, no firing laser beams till the kid cries m-ommy! Pooch!
later on completed: Halloween private witch-hunt: Crossbow Ghost Runs
The big theme and general understanding for newcomers:
1) This is a private tradition between us Patrick High foot ball team and our neighbor, Greenland Catholic girl-school.
2) If members’ girlfriend were participating to be the set-up as witches, he will not be wearing the ghost-mask; instead he will be given a red demon mask. Members who are wearing a red demon mask would be open fired on sight.
3) Members are welcome to find historical records at our library. Road 79, Aisle 64, Belmond Areas history archive (under the woodgrip, a vacant disk shape ready to be slide open.)
4) Participation is recommended.
5) You tell you die.
Crucial messages and follow up:
a) Drink whatever we tell you to.
b ) Follow the key words that will be given to you during your sleep.
c) Trust your instincts, your intuition is the main reason you were chosen to be part of the team.
d) Everything will go back to normal soon after the event.
e) Whatever you see during the event, do not scream or cry, seeing weird things occur is normal, believe in what you understand, never let your mind fly-pass into wonderfrackingland.
f) These girls can take care of themselves, it is important that you understand this.
g) Run as fast as you can when you see one of the adult-like female students. Come children, updated knowledge and the only literal info available for future pupils:
Nov. 24th 1963
The earliest deaths in records are a reverent who scheduled its short stay at Adamwith Lane town river heart to pass time with his family during the winter. According to Township Journal director, Derek Glade, the reverend’s name is Lionel Nape; Lionel had been gently refusing any advice on join in any sorts of preaching during the winter at local church. While the church-going folks at Bringswood desperately want to hear a session from the stranger, he still said no and apparently enjoyed our town a lot. Though old and grey, he had a wolflike young feature imprinted. For us he looked almost pedo. Apparently older lady folks in town were always gay to see him; he can shake hands so many times on the streets to excited senior passerby. Olddisgustingholelovingsdancecraddlessssexscheerspiggyzzznap. Wetradewecheers, jumpinginpapers. Even though he refused to engage in local church activities, regular visit and dinner with other family in town is something that makes him an even more welcoming person in general. And after all that, he was most considered to be a noble man. Strong family, genetically perfected, so much even for the local’s smallest heart, smallest mind like Breachy Jones will express something makes perfect sense to their mind, phrases like angels. Though may blush the stranger’s cheeks, we know something more to the way it were phrase. The Jones’s deal was pretty much inbred, and not pretty, but nothing better of then the new father of town won the hearts of everyone. Even the ones with claws. Beneath and afterwards, two month past into the deep blue winter in Bringwood. Coldest in that decade, blowing the disgrace, punk-stuff, the shit face children of local family away from town, a comb of merry, quiet and motherly furnished, fireplace attended for warming blood. Sometime during which the town electricity system were vandalized massive and slowly with most bizarre of methods, outside of family houses, electrical wires smother with hot saliva, around and around, yet sometime successful acid bites, it was into weeks before seeing the glittering waxed-off black wires at every houses, supposed to be licked by animals, develop into clumsy bites. Some kids even described they were hearing laughers like retards during the night. Naturally, local police forces start doing rotate duties, watching out for the jokes. A lot of human were involved. A lot of shrimp-up human. Craig Dolwith, the first to introduce us to the motherfucker of all monsters. Craig, an adult with family, who believes in god dearly. Marched across his house to the pavement with a reengineered air compress shooter rifle and blow one of them off the line. The first fire blast the guy into a pause, pork shit slurp off the wire in large scoops. Now what Dolwith thinks is there’s nothing animal about what happened, Dolwith has a perspective, there’s sarcastic mister, Dolwith explained, it’s constituted evil and you don’t want your children be laughing at that stuff. You slap them quiet. He said. Girls or boys, you slap them quiet cuz you don’t want the devil fucking with em. The second blow flattens the man’s position into a stiff haut, relaxed, pulling upside down victoriously batlike. A great dead sound was produced. Like a new learning animal. Dolwith killed him in a close range, quietly zapping the adult exclusive toy-gun at the sloppy available head. The component of the creature was no longer human, for what we know. What we learned is the motherfuckers are capable to twist humans. Take that in note, in warning. Dolwith was not a good person anyhow. Coming from a line of terrific abnormality, a job seasoned with dismay, a man-boy who play with toys, engineer them as a matter of fact. And shot a mother once with his toy gun, leading to lawsuits and a severe beating by the husband. One more plus is that children hate him. The prick was not fine in anyway with his surroundings yet he was horribly bright for his sake. members of the member. That night was Christmas eve.
The Fat Man
This picture is faaa, the fat man wants me to go into the picture, there’s a beautiful house inside the picture, and maybe the fat man is in there too?
“This picture is not fat, it has blood in it, and I need to change the frame.”
A moment later I was a little man inside the picture, and blood is flooding out of the frame. “You must pay the rent of this place.” I disregard the illusion he thrown at me.
“You know I’m not a mortal man, you’re stupid to think that, I need you to pay the rent…”
I know he can change his form, Boron can change his own form by welling it, but he chose to be a fat man. He continues to feast on the skeleton in a whole, today is the day of the dead, and Christmas he will feast again. He torn loose another stands of skeleton from the ground, the figure dances, in a romantic way, he hug the food like they were two person, than a bite on the skull!
Electro Masses
The electro masses call out to us, and we stand to let sun bake our cradled inward skull, large body bones. “Summer work is done, summer baby blood grow.”
The body is now long and sharp with other long things like toes and finger nails.
Million of years they said, the Egyptian priest with their socket for poor eyes with nothing to see like this, and yes, one of the bodies mass is me, soon, I traveled with lots of them through out mainland and country grounds. And though I’m one of them I never drank away like many would as your kind were wine to them. If you ever know what they call us, it is something takes earth and buried them for sleep. We like places that duty has lies, soldiers were strong, King that had plenty. Living within them once in awhile and the King wanted much us to married in his family! And so I was disgusted one day, and take leave from the old ones like me. The old ones like me so often killed themselves for poor reasons like these….
My time was closed again after some intervention with promising young doctors, scholar that try to seek me out, I try to let go of history, kinship with one who won’t leave me alone is special. I’ll always worried and remember you my friend. Take the blood before I leave tonight, take it.
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Hmmm.
If it doesn't work for you it would probably not work for anyone I think.
Magistrate mentioned something about posting on web page I might check with him on that. And as you can see I usually fail my computer courses pretty hard.
Stephen king suggested reading for hours (eight hours to be exact) before writting (and this is eight hours too). Because I know what I'm focusing on is unimportant, finishing the entire thing is job one, so basically I'll try to go back to the writting desk
This is not my material, but this is something inside the same universe, and if it works out, I'll take it into one of my stories. And yes, this is suppose to be a short story, when I mean short story I'm still meaning this is something that has a good load on it. (45~80)
I think I just need someone to tell me to finish it, and that's just me blurring senseless things.
In the mean time, this is the chunk of project I mustard up this morning.
I haven't touch any of my real project for a year now, my professors are also confused that if I ever wanted was to become a writer. Why would I torture myself so? Well I'm weak is that what you want me to say X(
My assignment for an out line, this is an idea I whiped up during the class, and later on completed. It's suppose to be an outline anyway.
I have forty worth of projects in mind, and twelve or so of them are books.
I find posting to people helps structuring them alot.
The Fat Man is simply related to the power I'm writting about, it if ever was going to have an end, it will still be a short story.
Electro Masses is gibberish I tried on, yes I simply tried writting random thoughts to sent to my teacher as a finished assignment. I backed out because it really wasn't going any where.
The chunk: The First Worship
Down where East seventeen county highways now is, you take a cut from where the last few mile on seventeen goes bad, the tires would be age into slow mode. The driver cannot get out of the car because it’s muddy in that sector, and if your passenger tries the road? Well there’s no point getting your car carpet too disgusting. A hose had been set on the outer part of the road for campers that tries to step into their childhood favorite camping site and failed. And dirt mountain-biker hiking their bikes along with the drive-bys and wants to try their steel on something grassy, soft. But they don’t know the ground inside these woods are dog nights, bad mushy-mush. The Ray-Red Laser and Bubble Gum camp site. Only those of us who won the tournament of shooting fake laser beams at eachother will know about this place, and dresses in orange and red space suit with giant chest pockets to scoop trophies in; stack up forest-bomb to concentrate areas so our-enemys-are-in-for-a-spook! While we shit ourself. Completely paralyzed until another kid ran into our maze. Yeap kiddo, no firing laser beams till the kid cries m-ommy! Pooch!
later on completed: Halloween private witch-hunt: Crossbow Ghost Runs
The big theme and general understanding for newcomers:
1) This is a private tradition between us Patrick High foot ball team and our neighbor, Greenland Catholic girl-school.
2) If members’ girlfriend were participating to be the set-up as witches, he will not be wearing the ghost-mask; instead he will be given a red demon mask. Members who are wearing a red demon mask would be open fired on sight.
3) Members are welcome to find historical records at our library. Road 79, Aisle 64, Belmond Areas history archive (under the woodgrip, a vacant disk shape ready to be slide open.)
4) Participation is recommended.
5) You tell you die.
Crucial messages and follow up:
a) Drink whatever we tell you to.
b ) Follow the key words that will be given to you during your sleep.
c) Trust your instincts, your intuition is the main reason you were chosen to be part of the team.
d) Everything will go back to normal soon after the event.
e) Whatever you see during the event, do not scream or cry, seeing weird things occur is normal, believe in what you understand, never let your mind fly-pass into wonderfrackingland.
f) These girls can take care of themselves, it is important that you understand this.
g) Run as fast as you can when you see one of the adult-like female students.
Come children, updated knowledge and the only literal info available for future pupils:
Nov. 24th 1963
The earliest deaths in records are a reverent who scheduled its short stay at Adamwith Lane town river heart to pass time with his family during the winter. According to Township Journal director, Derek Glade, the reverend’s name is Lionel Nape; Lionel had been gently refusing any advice on join in any sorts of preaching during the winter at local church. While the church-going folks at Bringswood desperately want to hear a session from the stranger, he still said no and apparently enjoyed our town a lot. Though old and grey, he had a wolflike young feature imprinted. For us he looked almost pedo. Apparently older lady folks in town were always gay to see him; he can shake hands so many times on the streets to excited senior passerby. Olddisgustingholelovingsdancecraddlessssexscheerspiggyzzznap. Wetradewecheers, jumpinginpapers. Even though he refused to engage in local church activities, regular visit and dinner with other family in town is something that makes him an even more welcoming person in general. And after all that, he was most considered to be a noble man. Strong family, genetically perfected, so much even for the local’s smallest heart, smallest mind like Breachy Jones will express something makes perfect sense to their mind, phrases like angels. Though may blush the stranger’s cheeks, we know something more to the way it were phrase. The Jones’s deal was pretty much inbred, and not pretty, but nothing better of then the new father of town won the hearts of everyone. Even the ones with claws. Beneath and afterwards, two month past into the deep blue winter in Bringwood. Coldest in that decade, blowing the disgrace, punk-stuff, the shit face children of local family away from town, a comb of merry, quiet and motherly furnished, fireplace attended for warming blood. Sometime during which the town electricity system were vandalized massive and slowly with most bizarre of methods, outside of family houses, electrical wires smother with hot saliva, around and around, yet sometime successful acid bites, it was into weeks before seeing the glittering waxed-off black wires at every houses, supposed to be licked by animals, develop into clumsy bites. Some kids even described they were hearing laughers like retards during the night. Naturally, local police forces start doing rotate duties, watching out for the jokes. A lot of human were involved. A lot of shrimp-up human. Craig Dolwith, the first to introduce us to the motherfucker of all monsters. Craig, an adult with family, who believes in god dearly. Marched across his house to the pavement with a reengineered air compress shooter rifle and blow one of them off the line. The first fire blast the guy into a pause, pork shit slurp off the wire in large scoops. Now what Dolwith thinks is there’s nothing animal about what happened, Dolwith has a perspective, there’s sarcastic mister, Dolwith explained, it’s constituted evil and you don’t want your children be laughing at that stuff. You slap them quiet. He said. Girls or boys, you slap them quiet cuz you don’t want the devil fucking with em. The second blow flattens the man’s position into a stiff haut, relaxed, pulling upside down victoriously batlike. A great dead sound was produced. Like a new learning animal. Dolwith killed him in a close range, quietly zapping the adult exclusive toy-gun at the sloppy available head. The component of the creature was no longer human, for what we know. What we learned is the motherfuckers are capable to twist humans. Take that in note, in warning. Dolwith was not a good person anyhow. Coming from a line of terrific abnormality, a job seasoned with dismay, a man-boy who play with toys, engineer them as a matter of fact. And shot a mother once with his toy gun, leading to lawsuits and a severe beating by the husband. One more plus is that children hate him. The prick was not fine in anyway with his surroundings yet he was horribly bright for his sake. members of the member. That night was Christmas eve.
The Fat Man
This picture is faaa, the fat man wants me to go into the picture, there’s a beautiful house inside the picture, and maybe the fat man is in there too?
“This picture is not fat, it has blood in it, and I need to change the frame.”
A moment later I was a little man inside the picture, and blood is flooding out of the frame. “You must pay the rent of this place.” I disregard the illusion he thrown at me.
“You know I’m not a mortal man, you’re stupid to think that, I need you to pay the rent…”
I know he can change his form, Boron can change his own form by welling it, but he chose to be a fat man. He continues to feast on the skeleton in a whole, today is the day of the dead, and Christmas he will feast again. He torn loose another stands of skeleton from the ground, the figure dances, in a romantic way, he hug the food like they were two person, than a bite on the skull!
Electro Masses
The electro masses call out to us, and we stand to let sun bake our cradled inward skull, large body bones. “Summer work is done, summer baby blood grow.”
The body is now long and sharp with other long things like toes and finger nails.
Million of years they said, the Egyptian priest with their socket for poor eyes with nothing to see like this, and yes, one of the bodies mass is me, soon, I traveled with lots of them through out mainland and country grounds. And though I’m one of them I never drank away like many would as your kind were wine to them. If you ever know what they call us, it is something takes earth and buried them for sleep. We like places that duty has lies, soldiers were strong, King that had plenty. Living within them once in awhile and the King wanted much us to married in his family! And so I was disgusted one day, and take leave from the old ones like me. The old ones like me so often killed themselves for poor reasons like these….
My time was closed again after some intervention with promising young doctors, scholar that try to seek me out, I try to let go of history, kinship with one who won’t leave me alone is special. I’ll always worried and remember you my friend. Take the blood before I leave tonight, take it.