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  #1  
Old 02-06-2009, 05:20 PM
This is my short story thread...not for the faint of heart...

I'm not trying to steal anyone's thunder here. I was just inspired by folks like G1ng3r and Duke Nukem to start writing fiction again. I'm posting it because of the immediacy of Internet feedback, be it positive or negative. Please note that this material will be copyrighted in a matter of days. I'm a professional writer (whatever that means), and I do intend on publishing this stuff. While I'm also doing this for fun, I've been sitting on an idea for awhile now, and it's about time that I fucking executed it.

I'll post the first snippet in a day or two. It may only be a paragraph. I don't know yet. Now, I know that this is a horror forum, but I feel like I need to include the following disclaimer...

This short story is for MATURE READERS ONLY. I feel stupid for adding this, but you never know. The content is on the extreme end of the horror genre. I'm not talking about simple gore or campy violence. This won't be a fun page-turner.

Keep an eye out for the first chunk of a tale I like to call...

CATHETER

You have been sufficiently warned.
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  #2  
Old 02-06-2009, 07:48 PM
Glad to see that you took my advice and decided to do this, can't wait to see what you've got in store for us. (I'm also mucho proud to be considerred an inspiration for a professional writer! *Squeals like school-girl.*) Also happy to see that this won't be "Safe Horror", and that it's going to be (Most likely: ) balls-to-the-wall, insane, sadomassochistic, and just plain wrong-the way that true Horror should be. I have a short-story called Playing Deities that I would like to Post on here someday, but I thought may be too graphic. Maybe I will end up Posting it one day.

Good luck, Count. Can't wait to leave you some positive feedback.
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  #3  
Old 02-06-2009, 11:06 PM
Go your hrdest Count, I'll look forward to whatever nightmares you drag us into.
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  #4  
Old 02-07-2009, 02:12 AM
Nice... Nice...

[subscribes to thread]
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  #5  
Old 02-07-2009, 05:25 AM
You guys better knock it off or I might write some shit....




Anyways, bring it on Count, bring it on.
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  #6  
Old 02-07-2009, 08:44 AM
imo, what we need is a Horror Writing Forum. Sure, we have the Screenwriting/Filmmaking Forums, but I'd bet that we have just as many author Schmoes as director/producer Schmoes.

If you guys agree, I'll Post a Site Suggestion Thread about it.
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  #7  
Old 02-08-2009, 07:12 PM
I wanted to complete the first chapter before I posted anything, but fuck it...I haven't had much time to work on it. Here is what I have so far (nothing "mature" yet). Pretend that the paragraphs are indented.

CATHETER

Eustachian: Chapter 1 (The Warehouse)

Aras opened his eyes to blurred images. His head was swollen like a distended gut, a cavity gormandized with confectionary treats and oily meat. All he knew was that he was on a floor. His pressed his hands against the cold, granular textures that had apparently broken his fall with the grace of chalky cement. Every bone ached with aplomb. He couldn’t muster to put any weight on his legs.

It couldn’t have been a dream. No, the smells were too acrid. The lights were too bright. The pain was too convincing.

The moment he lifted his head, he scared himself cognizant. She was still there. Fifty-seven pounds of broken flesh. A child of eleven years. The hole in her stomach had dried and faded to a grotesque pink. Aras could still taste her insides. He could feel another tight pull of vomit working its way through his esophagus. His chest was a fire pit. This wasn’t his strong suit. He had no idea what to do.

It took several minutes for Aras to realize that his hands were bare. His eyes feverishly scanned the aphotic scene of boxes and dead bugs. Wilted and furrowed, the gloves were resting on one of the larger boxes. They almost seemed sick themselves. Aras darted for the powdered blankets in a panic. At this point, the agony was inconsequential. He needed those gloves.

Aras had been obsessive-compulsive for years. The thought of his naked fingers sopping up sawdust was too much to handle. His pain recoiled as he slid the rubber onto his hands, if only modestly. His palms were raw from concussing the girl’s frame. He was able to breathe a sigh of deceptively sedating relief, but he was still guileless. What now?
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  #8  
Old 02-08-2009, 11:53 PM

Interesting work. The vocabulary is exactly what I've come to expect from reading your posts over the past seven years. It's only an excerpt but you're already setting us up for something incredibly descriptive.

Before you posted it I was going to say that I was expecting your work to be something along the lines of a film I watched a little while back but I couldn't remember the name of the fucking thing. It was from 1990 but it was in black and white and was made to look aged a lot more than it actually was. It has a ten minute opening sequence with a man (who if I remember correctly was supposed to symbolize GOD) disemboweling himself. Ring any bells?

At any rate I'll be keeping up with this thread.

Well thats all for now GOoD JOURNEY my fellow schmoes.
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  #9  
Old 02-09-2009, 01:39 PM
Much appreciated. You're thinking of Begotten. It's certainly in the same arena. I'm going for an "uncomfortable" vibe. I just hope that I actually complete it.
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  #10  
Old 02-09-2009, 05:23 PM
Ever sense being traumatized over last summer by Begotten I've wanted to make my own fudged-up creation story. Although I highly doubt that I will ever get around to that.

Good work Count. Very, very colorful vocab.
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  #11  
Old 02-09-2009, 06:34 PM
I dig it so far, countchocula.
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  #12  
Old 02-09-2009, 07:04 PM
Wow, that little bit so far is already quite disturbing and dark.

Last edited by Duke Nukem; 02-09-2009 at 07:18 PM..
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  #13  
Old 02-10-2009, 03:31 PM
Good stuff Count...Can't wait to read more
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  #14  
Old 02-10-2009, 08:21 PM
Thanks, guys and gals. I'll have more up tomorrow.
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  #15  
Old 02-11-2009, 09:16 PM
Okay, here's another chunk. Hopefully, the next update will be lengthier.

The blood on his genitals didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. It was his blood, after all. He knew that it was salutarily sterile. The sawdust posed a much more alarming threat. Against his better judgment, he distracted himself from his sullied surroundings. There wasn’t enough time to assess the risks.

Aras cautiously lumbered to his wagon. The cherry red wagon acted as a makeshift suitcase. It housed the contrivances that Aras deemed as necessities. He used the ambulatory buckboard to store his collection of used catheters. It was this putrescent mound of renal tubes that had sustained him over the years.

Most of them had been procured while working as a nurse. No one suspected that Aras was anything but ordinary. He was a good nurse. The patients enjoyed his company, his co-workers were always affable, and the clinical environment allowed him to forget his singular idiosyncrasies.

Leora was his confidante of sorts. She was the closest thing to a confidante that Aras ever had. She was a third shift licensed practical nurse going to school to become a registered nurse. It seemed like everything happened on third shift, but Leora didn’t mind. It wasn’t just a paycheck for her. Aras knew that she had a genuinely charitable spirit as soon as he talked to her. It was his first day on the job.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” he said through a bashful simper.

“You’ll be fine,” Leora assured. Her lancinating green eyes told Aras everything he needed to know about his role at the hospital. “The stress almost got to me at first, but you get used to it. The families that come in here, they...they don’t seem like families after awhile. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I guess I’m a little jaded.”

Aras folded his arms in undivided attention. “How do you mean?”

“Well, they all say the same things. They all do the same things. They all have the same arguments. You forget that they’re different people. I still love what I do.”

“Sure,” Aras affirmed. He had his gangling black hair pulled up into a ponytail. Every now and then, a patient would eyeball his bedraggled appearance with shaky discretion, but Leora saw him through equitable eyes.

A blinking light at the nurses' station called for Leora’s assistance. “Oh, excuse me. I have to give Mr. Bradley his suppository.”

Aras nodded knowingly. “Have fun.”

Last edited by countchocula; 02-11-2009 at 09:22 PM..
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  #16  
Old 02-12-2009, 05:14 AM
Seriously Count I hope you keep this up cause I am sucked in. Beautiful vocabulary which demands your attention.
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  #17  
Old 02-14-2009, 05:30 PM
Keep it up Count..Hope to see more soon..As someone who works in healthcare as a nurse I am very intrested in seeing where this is going
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  #18  
Old 02-14-2009, 07:43 PM
countchocula, dude! I've only read your posts and reviews...I'm diggin' your fiction so far. (Said that already, I know. PAH)
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  #19  
Old 02-17-2009, 03:36 PM
Great stuff count! This is defenetly a story written by Countchocula, your vocabulary is rich as always...Hey you should have participated in the other story Ginger and I started, the one with the zombie and slugs in space, you know, the fun campy page turner we did a couple of days ago? You get a chance to read it?

Keep it up bro, this looks like its going into dark territory....

Last edited by spacemonkey; 02-17-2009 at 03:39 PM..
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  #20  
Old 02-18-2009, 07:17 PM
I only have enough time for the novel (and the odd freelance piece). Otherwise, I'd join in on the fun.

The feedback is MUCH appreciated. I'll be back later tonight with another chunk.
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  #21  
Old 02-18-2009, 09:37 PM
The end of The Warehouse.



Hours later, Aras would find himself in a drab, poorly lit room packed with medical supplies. Burke Memorial Hospital was a quaint establishment. It was legitimate enough to keep a comforting percentage of patients alive, but it was just small enough to where no one would notice if a handful of syringes were missing or if a modest profusion of catheters wound up in an employee’s glove compartment.

Aras took advantage of the town’s decidedly pastoral milieu at every turn. The people weren’t very observant. If their homegrown lexicon of garbled words and colloquial nonsense didn’t give them away, their actions did. In the three years that Aras worked at Burke Memorial, no one had probed terribly deep into his personal life. If he disappeared for 5 minutes, nothing would be made of it. Everyone kept to themselves.

Hiding the catheters was the easy part. Handling them was a different story altogether. Aras’s execration of filth wasn’t all-consuming until after his nursing stint, but transporting the catheters back to the warehouse always proved to be a taxing trial.

Catheters typified his perpetual exigency to clean the world around him. Keeping them anchored his waffling faith in material things, the tangible corporeality that suppressed his ability to meet societal norms. Using the catheters was an ordinance of purification. The only physical matter that Aras could trust was the matter inside of him. He knew that he was pure. He was the only truth that he could believe in.

As Aras stood before the wagon, he sensed that he had to cleanse himself. He reached for one of the catheters that he had previously intubated. Unquestionably, the pain would be unbearable. It didn’t help that the tip of his penis was crudely ruptured. So be it. Aras was more than familiar with pain. In his obstinate eyes, it was a means to a seraphic, gratifying end.

Aras laid on his back and took several deep breaths. Never one to bother with achieving asepsis, he opted not to sterilize his bleeding member. He didn’t care about lubrication either. Naturally, if he were under a surgeon’s care, these formalities would be seen through, but Aras was disinfected by default. Hygiene was not an issue.

He pulled his penis back and slowly threaded the catheter through his torn skin. His muscles tightened in shooting agony as the mechanism slinked up his urethra. He had to remind himself to keep breathing. Sweat trickled down his forehead and mixed with the tears that had flooded his eyes. The bulb at the tip of the catheter inflated once it entered Aras’s bladder. This kept the catheter in place while urine was flushed out onto the floor.

A placatory calm warmed Aras’s frail body as the fluid continued to drain at his feet. He was okay now. He could think clearly. The girl’s body didn’t disturb him as it did before. It became obvious to him that he had to make a decision. She had to cooperate.
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  #22  
Old 02-20-2009, 08:59 PM
Good stuff, Count.

*Subscribes
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  #23  
Old 02-20-2009, 09:02 PM
Uh-oh Count, we're getting closer to the heavy stuff now. I like where this is going.
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  #24  
Old 02-23-2009, 03:15 AM
Good ol' Count.

Same as it ever was.

*a smiling nod to an old friend*
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  #25  
Old 02-24-2009, 07:25 PM
Dark One! Geez, old school schmoes are coming out of the woodwork. Currently, everyone in my house is sick. Once the germs fade, I'll begin work on the next chapter. However, it will not be Chapter 2; it will be the first chapter of the second strain (the first strain being Eustachian).

I'll reveal the title of the second strain tomorrow. The story will start to make sense soon enough.
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  #26  
Old 02-25-2009, 04:43 PM
Tomorrow, I will post a snippet of...

Prostatic: Chapter 1 (The Boyfriend)

Following the completion of "The Boyfriend," I will create the second chapter of Eustachian. The novel will teeter-totter between both strains.
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  #27  
Old 02-26-2009, 07:10 AM
Seriously Count this is good shit....I'm wincing at your descriptive prose so keep it up man.
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  #28  
Old 02-27-2009, 08:59 PM
We meet a very special little girl...

Prostatic: Chapter 1 (The Boyfriend)

Melody parked her car in the slatternly strip of dirt that served as a driveway. After she turned off the ignition, she cupped her hands around her face. She began to well up, knowing that this was an affliction. She didn’t know why she was compelled to do these unspeakable things to her body. It just completed her.

Melody‘s daughter sat in the backseat with her arms folded. Her mother often amused her. “Why the hell are you crying?”

Melody didn’t answer. Her whimpering grew more helpless. She ran her hands through her waxy yellow hair as though she were attempting to collect herself. She managed a response. “You don’t know what this does to me.”

“I don’t care what it does to you,” the little girl snapped. “It’s your decision. We are here because of you, aren’t we?”

“I know, I know. How can you judge me? You’re eleven years old, for Christ’s sake.”

The girl smirked. “So I’m the green one. I’m the naïve child who should only speak when spoken to. I haven’t seen the world, is that it?”

“Shut up,” Melody said. She picked at the tissue paper that had rubbed off onto her eyelids.

“No. No, you shut up. You shut the fuck up, you fucking slut.” The girl leaned forward. “If this is what you want, than own it. What is this, number eight? Nine? The real places refuse to do it, so you come here. The drive-thru abortion playhouse. You like it because it’s dirtier, it’s unhealthier. You can’t wait for some asshole to reach inside of you and pull out another one of my beloved siblings.”

“Shut up!”

“Do you come when they do it? Is that why you like it? Do you get off when they stab its little brain?”

“Stop it, stop it!”

“I bet you’re getting wet right now.”

Melody’s head collapsed back into her hands as she let out a frazzled scream.

“Your cunt has probably been turned inside out by now. How many abortions do you think a human can have?”

“Goddamn you!”

“Go on. Have fun. I’ve got coloring books to keep me entertained.”

Melody abruptly opened the door and stumbled out of the car. The gravel stung her bare feet as she feebly staggered toward the ramshackle house.

Aras watched from behind rosy, tufted azalea bushes. He waited for Melody to enter the house before approaching the car. Everything was perfect.

Naked and pale, he crawled out onto the driveway. He readied his gloves in jumpy anticipation. This was their one-month anniversary, and he was determined not to ruin it.
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  #29  
Old 03-02-2009, 07:26 PM
Apparently, a lot of people are reading this. It's hard to know for sure. Does anyone love/hate this particular chapter so far?
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  #30  
Old 03-02-2009, 08:50 PM
I dig it.

Do you plan on putting into screenplay format (maybe for a film)?
I really dont know how that works just wondering...
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  #31  
Old 03-03-2009, 10:05 PM
Wow.....this is honestly pretty good! And also some of the most completely twisted stuff I`ve ever read!
As someone who has had the pleasure of having a cathetar in me at the hospital, I was literally wincing during that one part.
Will the girl`s mom still be involved?
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  #32  
Old 03-04-2009, 09:01 PM
She won't play a major part, but she pops up later in the story.

Echo, it's only literature for right now. It would be nearly impossible to film some of this stuff anyway (especially the stuff I'm about to write). I would be sent to prison.

I'll try to have more up soon.
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  #33  
Old 03-04-2009, 10:40 PM
The end of The Boyfriend.

She was so beautiful. Her frosted, wispy hair was braided and fashioned into innocuous pigtails. The coloring book on her lap looked pallid compared to her neon pink coat. Her rubicund skin gleamed with a coral shade that matched the polyester frock, her cheeks aflush with life.

As Aras reached for a reasonably sizeable rock, he couldn’t help but to flash back, back to when the arrangement was made. The nature of his relationship with the girl disturbed him at times, but it felt appropriate. She was the only person who overlooked the quirks and pacified his godforsaken insolvency.

Any reservations that Aras had were quashed by her constant reminders that he wasn’t alone. She would always tell him the things that he needed to hear. They weren’t necessarily things that he wanted to hear, but they comforted him just the same.

“No one else knows you. But I do. They could never begin to understand all of your fears. But I do. They could never love you. But I do.”
Aras couldn’t ask for a more loving daughter. Likewise, he couldn’t ask for a more forgiving partner.

He propelled the rock through the window. The girl jerked her head aside as the shards of glass scattered onto the floorboard. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her body through the jagged, asperous opening. She struggled to free herself, but her efforts to elude Aras’s groping paws were noticeably dispassionate. She didn’t even scream.

“Come on,” Aras urged.

She finally sounded a faint bellow.

“Come on,” Aras repeated. “I’m attacking you.”

The girl’s limbs went limp. She sighed an exasperated sigh.

“Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

“What?”

“You want me to yell? Someone is bound to hear us.”

“Yeah, but that’s how someone would react.”

The girl rolled her eyes and opened the windowless door. She packed her coloring book into a violet backpack. Embroidered onto the front of the glutted bag was an orange bunny whose mouth doubled as a pouch. Aras helped gather crayons and empty handfuls of school supplies into the roughly-hewn, yet undeniably cute pocket.

“I love the carrot zipper,” he said. The girl giggled.

“At least we tried. Aren’t you hot in that coat?”

“No. Aren’t you cold in that birthday suit?”

Aras shook his head. “I guess I’m used to the air around here. The bugs don’t even bother me.”

The two held hands and walked down a bleary, eroded path that led to their favorite park. Aras stopped for a moment. “What about the window?

“I’ll think of something.”

“And you’re sure that she’ll be in there for awhile?”

“She always sticks around for a few hours and fucks everyone there. Or they fuck her. I’m not sure if she’s conscious.”

It didn’t matter to Aras. He was safe, and he wasn’t going to let Melody darken his day. Not even she could spoil his plans.
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  #34  
Old 03-10-2009, 05:22 PM
Update...

I'm going to edit parts of "The Boyfriend." I doubt that I'll post the edited version, as the plot specifics will remain the same. I just need to tweak the dialogue (and a few other things). Hopefully, I'll soon begin work on the second chapter of "Eustachian."

I still don't know if this will be a full novel.

I'm struggling with how far to take the violence. The ideas I have are so extreme, that I can't imagine anyone wanting to read it. I may tone it down or - at the very least - approach the subject matter from a different angle.

I don't know if I'm happy with what I have so far. On one hand, I shouldn't be completely satisfied. There is always room for improvement. On the other hand, I can't tell if I'm being too hard on myself. I've received very constructive criticism from a couple of close friends, and it has helped a great deal. The more feedback I get, the better.

At some point, I'll reveal the next chapter title. Some shit is about to go down.
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  #35  
Old 03-20-2009, 12:01 PM
More! More, damn it! I kid. You probably have a life. Just lettin' you know that I'll be looking forward to the next installment.
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  #36  
Old 03-20-2009, 01:11 PM
Thanks, Tweek. That actually means a lot because I was beginning to wonder if I should bother updating this thread. I'll keep updating it just for you.

I think I might post the edited version of "The Boyfriend" later today. I changed the little girl's character just enough to make a difference.

I have started working on the next chapter. I hope to have it done in the next day or so. Keep an eye out for...

Eustachian: Chapter 2 (The Suit)
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  #37  
Old 03-21-2009, 12:07 AM
This is some beautiful stuff you have here, please don't comprimise the content of your story only because you think it might be too harsh for some, I would like to read it.
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  #38  
Old 03-21-2009, 08:18 PM
Here is the edited portion of "The Boyfriend."

Melody parked her car in the slatternly strip of dirt that served as a driveway. After she turned off the ignition, she cupped her hands around her face. She began to well up, knowing that this was an affliction. She didn’t know why she was compelled to do these unspeakable things to her body. It just completed her.

Melody‘s daughter sat in the backseat with her arms folded. Her mother often amused her. “Why are you crying?”

Melody didn’t answer. Her whimpering grew more helpless. She ran her hands through her waxy yellow hair as though she were attempting to collect herself. She managed a response. “You don’t know what this does to me.”

“I don’t care what it does to you,” the little girl snapped. “It’s your decision. We are here because of you, aren’t we?”

“I know, I know. How can you judge me? You’re eleven years old, for Christ’s sake.”

The girl smirked. “So I’m the dumb one. I’m the naïve child who should only speak when spoken to. I haven’t seen the world, is that it?”

“Shut up,” Melody said. She picked at the tissue paper that had rubbed off onto her eyelids.

“No. No, you shut up.” The girl leaned forward. “If this is what you want, then own it. What is this, number eight? Nine? The real places refuse to do it, so you come here. The baby-killing drive-thru. You like it because it’s dirtier, right? You can’t wait for some stranger to reach inside of you and pull out another one of my beloved siblings.”

“Shut up!”

“Do you feel good when they do it? Is that why you like it? Do you tingle when they stab its little brain? Like when Uncle Tim gives you a hug?”

“Stop it, stop it!”

“I bet you’re tingling right now.”

Melody’s head collapsed back into her hands as she let out a frazzled scream.

“You’ve probably been turned inside out by now. How many of these do you think a human can have?”

“Goddamn you!”

“Go on. Have fun. I’ve got coloring books to keep me entertained.”

Melody abruptly opened the door and stumbled out of the car. The gravel stung her bare feet as she feebly staggered toward the ramshackle house.

Aras watched from behind rosy, tufted azalea bushes. He waited for Melody to enter the house before approaching the car. Everything was perfect.

Naked and pale, he crawled out onto the driveway. He readied his gloves in jumpy anticipation. This was their one-month anniversary, and he was determined not to ruin it.
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  #39  
Old 03-22-2009, 12:52 AM
It must be very difficult for the child to deal with her mothers actions, has the content of the girls language changed the way she thinks, or the amount of restrian to not use the same words?

Does it change the amount of innocence that an 11 year old girl of her situation would have?

I want to know because, I think the way I interpret the change in language is from what I have to do, restrain from kinda sounding like I have tourrettes or something, but really what do you think of the change in language?
I think it should satisfy you.

I really want to know what happens next, I can't wait.
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  #40  
Old 03-22-2009, 06:05 PM
I changed the profanity because I decided to go for a more realistic vibe. Originally, this was going to be a surrealist story, but that would make it harder to develop the characters. I want the little girl to say things that a little girl would say. Having said that, she's still not a normal little girl.

I also decided not to hold back as far as the violence is concerned. The next chapter is a tad...out there.
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