Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
On the Topic of Dungeons
I absolutely love playing D&D. I also have a creative side that loves to create worlds and stories. And thats why I'm working on creating my own D&D setting. Currently I'm working on creating my pantheon of deities. Also, it works out great since I like drawing maps. So, if anyone has any ideas for names or places or people or etc I'm all ears.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
I Write Like
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Story Extravaganza: Wrap Up
Now that I've finished my story. I'm kinda sad that its over. It was a whole lot of fun. And I'm very, very pleased with all the stories (especially mine (I never said I wasn't biased)). I think everyday I wrote one of the stories started the writing with no clue where the story would take me. And some days, like my conclusion, were tough. But I definitely enjoyed this and I hope that it also improved my writing abilities. Check out the other blogs if you haven't already. And, internet, I hope you enjoyed this little adventure from normal blogging.
Also on a different note, today marks my four-year anniversary of playing WoW. Which means Meyr turned 4, which in video game years is like 80 years old. Tell me I'm not a nerd?
Also on a different note, today marks my four-year anniversary of playing WoW. Which means Meyr turned 4, which in video game years is like 80 years old. Tell me I'm not a nerd?
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Story Extravaganza: Part 5
Yesterday each of the tandem stories will return to their original bloggers for a concluding paragraph, where I was supposed to write the conclusion. Since I had a physics lab to type up, I didn't have time to actually write mine last night and replace the placeholder post then. So with out further ado here is my finished adventure.
It was cold down on the surface. With the scientists still asleep, Jim Fozan was roused awake by the wind. He couldn't seem to adjust to the sound of the howling. He couldn't place why it upset him, but it didn't seem to phase the rest of the expedition. So, he wasn't about to start complaining, he did, however, miss the comfort of his bed. His bed and his wife. He missed her too; well, most of the time. She stayed on Terra. Ember had always hated the idea of space; he lived for space.
The rest of the expedition was largely a civilian group, aside from himself and Jones. All they were concerned with was that the Tablets were on this planet, after a century of research and the code had just been broken, it had to be here; they hoped at least. And they managed to convince the Government that this was indeed the case.
If he was supposed to protect these scientists, it'd be nice if they would actually listen.
The next morning, Fozan paced the extra chamber of the spaceship teporarily designated as the scientists' work room using every ounce of his strength to keep himself shaking some sense into Ferdinand Bemok, one of the leading scientists, an energetic and frail-looking man who apparently needed this expedition to earn his doctorate in xenoplanetary archaeology.
"So you're saying these tablets could literally be anywhere in the largest continent on this planet?"
"Yes"
"And this continent is thirty-million square miles of canyon, rainforrest and desert?"
"Yup"
"And it just so happens that there are about four trillion animal species living there with their own specialized ways of giving you an agonizing death."
"Affirmative."
"And we're just jumping in."
Ferdinand looked up from his stack of papers.
"You know, Foz,"
"Don't call me Foz."
"On the planet I come from, we have balls -- the men at least -- and because of those, we don't worry about a few obstacles, we leap over them. Like men."
"Look, we're not having this conversation because I'm worried about a fer gigantic poisonous rodents, sentient plants or the occasional hurricane-force wind, it's because we've been here for a week and you're only just now telling me how much you don't know. I have a good feeling there's more you're not telling me and keeping secrets from me can and will jeopardize the success of this mission and, you know, the future of your balls."
"Hey, man you're going to have to take that up with Dr. Fitzgerald, he's the archaeological supervisor. For all I know, he told you everything." The insincerity in his voice made Fozan's fingers involuntarily curl into fists. Before he could say more, Fozan heard the muffled sounds of an assistant screaming from the next room and Jones saying something about a stolen canole and calling someone a "pigfucker" or something to that effect.
"SEVEN! SEVEN TIMES I'VE TOLD THEM DON'T TOUCH MY FUCKIN CANOLE! YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID SEVEN TIMES!?"
"They touched your canole?"
"NO! Well, yes, but not just touch it, they stole it. I'm tired of this job Fozan, we're just glorified security guards."
"Yeah, but they pay is great, and there are some pretty good opportunities here.'
"Fozan, you hate this place as much, if not more, than I do."
Fozan knew that Jones was right, to him this job really sucked. He was thinking to himself, what was Dr. Fitzgerald really after? These so called tablets had to have some special reasoning for them to be out in the hell hole called a planet. The mission briefing said that these tablets were crucial to learning about the history of the universe, but no-one could be this dedicated to the past. Even with the firepower they were packing, they could be killed without even knowing it.
"Jones, I think it's time we talked to Fitzgerald about this operation. Yes, I do mean talking the way we're used to."
12 meters. The hallway to Dr. Fitzgeralds office was 12 meters away. As the two man walk the hall a deep sense of foreboding entered Fozan's mind. It gave him chills the way it used to on Terra, when he had worked with the police. He used to call it his sixth sense, now some pompous doctor on Terra was calling it "Paranormal Detection and Interaction Syndrome."
"What a stupid name," he thought.
5 years he had been subject to test about this; 5 years to tell him what he had already know. That's why he had left in the first place. The feeling now however was much stronger than he had ever felt before. Some serious shit was going down and he needed to be ready. 8 meters. Jones had grabbed a pistol from the arms locker on B deck, and brought him a vest. Jones knew that his partner always carried a weapon, so there was no need to arouse the civis by getting him a bigger one. Jones was nervous, it wasn't like Fozan to rough up civis on a job like this, nromally he liked to play nice. Something was going on. Something big. 5 meters. The hallway was darker than it should of been. A lamp had been broken here during landing. The triangular corridor was lit by one long light on the left side of the floor. It cast strange shadows on the walls. Fozan's mind was scratching at the inside of his head, almost as if it wanted out. 2 meters. They looked at the door not 6 feet from them, and each thought about what they were going to do. Why was this so strange why did it bother them so much? Fozan's mind screamed as they approached the door, and then almost fell silent, as if brooding for the right time to start again. They pressed open. The door took what felt like a millennia to open. They stepped into the doctor's office. Fitzgerald looked at them both.
"Can I help you gentleman?" he said calmly, looking his eyes on a now sweating Fozan.
"Ya doc", Jones barked "Tell us what the hell is going on here. How much more do we not know?"
"I would be happy to, but first I need to make sure of something, Captain, would you kindly?" the doctor motioned to Fozan.
"What are..." Jones was interrupted by the feeling of Fozans gun touch the back of his head "Jim, what the hell are you doing?!?"
"What I tell him" Fitzgerald laughed, "Now I will tell you anything you want to know, but be careful what you ask, you might regret it."
Jones mind wandered, running plans, wondering his chances if he ran for it. 12 meters of straight hallway. Might as well be a pistol range. He would have to play this game, for now.
There was no way out. Whatever this guy was it wasn't human anymore. Maybe he was never human at all. This just wasn't his week; and it wasn't looking like it was about to get any better. At least he had a good fuck the night before.
"Doc, the way I see it is that you only have two Marines left, me and Jim over here; the other ships never made it down here. And if what ever is on this planet is worth killing me over than it would help you to survive getting there." It was a start, Jones could feel the gun against his scalp slowly lowering.
"If I wanted you dead I would have already done so. You see, I need you to stop poking around in my business and just do your jobs." something about Fitzgerald was unsettling. Jones stared, trying to displace the feeling of discomfort as he continued talking, "We've almost found the Tablets. Only one last dig and then we can all go home as heroes. No one will know what happened to the other ships or anything else that happened on this planet." he had it. It was his gold-rimmed glasses, they made his blue eyes appear twice as large and wholly four times as piercing. Fitzgerald looked at him unblinking. "Why is it that you think our ship is still intact while none of the others made it?"
"Dammit." a gun clattered to the floor. "Then-- this is Earth, isn't it?"
"Clever, clever Fos. You've all learned the histories about the old human empire. Imagine the power buried below our very feet. The Tablets were created to extend that history, they've already compiled EVERYTHING, we just have to find it. We could end the war and unite humanity again. To return to our former glory."
"And with that power they destroyed themselves. You can't repeat the past," Jones was horrified, as part of the Marine training they studied about Earth and the the Human Dominion. It's fall had started the wars over 2,000 years ago.
"Can't repeat the past? Why of course I can!"
Do make sure to check out the other Bloggers for the conclusions to their stories.
It was cold down on the surface. With the scientists still asleep, Jim Fozan was roused awake by the wind. He couldn't seem to adjust to the sound of the howling. He couldn't place why it upset him, but it didn't seem to phase the rest of the expedition. So, he wasn't about to start complaining, he did, however, miss the comfort of his bed. His bed and his wife. He missed her too; well, most of the time. She stayed on Terra. Ember had always hated the idea of space; he lived for space.
The rest of the expedition was largely a civilian group, aside from himself and Jones. All they were concerned with was that the Tablets were on this planet, after a century of research and the code had just been broken, it had to be here; they hoped at least. And they managed to convince the Government that this was indeed the case.
If he was supposed to protect these scientists, it'd be nice if they would actually listen.
The next morning, Fozan paced the extra chamber of the spaceship teporarily designated as the scientists' work room using every ounce of his strength to keep himself shaking some sense into Ferdinand Bemok, one of the leading scientists, an energetic and frail-looking man who apparently needed this expedition to earn his doctorate in xenoplanetary archaeology.
"So you're saying these tablets could literally be anywhere in the largest continent on this planet?"
"Yes"
"And this continent is thirty-million square miles of canyon, rainforrest and desert?"
"Yup"
"And it just so happens that there are about four trillion animal species living there with their own specialized ways of giving you an agonizing death."
"Affirmative."
"And we're just jumping in."
Ferdinand looked up from his stack of papers.
"You know, Foz,"
"Don't call me Foz."
"On the planet I come from, we have balls -- the men at least -- and because of those, we don't worry about a few obstacles, we leap over them. Like men."
"Look, we're not having this conversation because I'm worried about a fer gigantic poisonous rodents, sentient plants or the occasional hurricane-force wind, it's because we've been here for a week and you're only just now telling me how much you don't know. I have a good feeling there's more you're not telling me and keeping secrets from me can and will jeopardize the success of this mission and, you know, the future of your balls."
"Hey, man you're going to have to take that up with Dr. Fitzgerald, he's the archaeological supervisor. For all I know, he told you everything." The insincerity in his voice made Fozan's fingers involuntarily curl into fists. Before he could say more, Fozan heard the muffled sounds of an assistant screaming from the next room and Jones saying something about a stolen canole and calling someone a "pigfucker" or something to that effect.
"SEVEN! SEVEN TIMES I'VE TOLD THEM DON'T TOUCH MY FUCKIN CANOLE! YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID SEVEN TIMES!?"
"They touched your canole?"
"NO! Well, yes, but not just touch it, they stole it. I'm tired of this job Fozan, we're just glorified security guards."
"Yeah, but they pay is great, and there are some pretty good opportunities here.'
"Fozan, you hate this place as much, if not more, than I do."
Fozan knew that Jones was right, to him this job really sucked. He was thinking to himself, what was Dr. Fitzgerald really after? These so called tablets had to have some special reasoning for them to be out in the hell hole called a planet. The mission briefing said that these tablets were crucial to learning about the history of the universe, but no-one could be this dedicated to the past. Even with the firepower they were packing, they could be killed without even knowing it.
"Jones, I think it's time we talked to Fitzgerald about this operation. Yes, I do mean talking the way we're used to."
12 meters. The hallway to Dr. Fitzgeralds office was 12 meters away. As the two man walk the hall a deep sense of foreboding entered Fozan's mind. It gave him chills the way it used to on Terra, when he had worked with the police. He used to call it his sixth sense, now some pompous doctor on Terra was calling it "Paranormal Detection and Interaction Syndrome."
"What a stupid name," he thought.
5 years he had been subject to test about this; 5 years to tell him what he had already know. That's why he had left in the first place. The feeling now however was much stronger than he had ever felt before. Some serious shit was going down and he needed to be ready. 8 meters. Jones had grabbed a pistol from the arms locker on B deck, and brought him a vest. Jones knew that his partner always carried a weapon, so there was no need to arouse the civis by getting him a bigger one. Jones was nervous, it wasn't like Fozan to rough up civis on a job like this, nromally he liked to play nice. Something was going on. Something big. 5 meters. The hallway was darker than it should of been. A lamp had been broken here during landing. The triangular corridor was lit by one long light on the left side of the floor. It cast strange shadows on the walls. Fozan's mind was scratching at the inside of his head, almost as if it wanted out. 2 meters. They looked at the door not 6 feet from them, and each thought about what they were going to do. Why was this so strange why did it bother them so much? Fozan's mind screamed as they approached the door, and then almost fell silent, as if brooding for the right time to start again. They pressed open. The door took what felt like a millennia to open. They stepped into the doctor's office. Fitzgerald looked at them both.
"Can I help you gentleman?" he said calmly, looking his eyes on a now sweating Fozan.
"Ya doc", Jones barked "Tell us what the hell is going on here. How much more do we not know?"
"I would be happy to, but first I need to make sure of something, Captain, would you kindly?" the doctor motioned to Fozan.
"What are..." Jones was interrupted by the feeling of Fozans gun touch the back of his head "Jim, what the hell are you doing?!?"
"What I tell him" Fitzgerald laughed, "Now I will tell you anything you want to know, but be careful what you ask, you might regret it."
Jones mind wandered, running plans, wondering his chances if he ran for it. 12 meters of straight hallway. Might as well be a pistol range. He would have to play this game, for now.
There was no way out. Whatever this guy was it wasn't human anymore. Maybe he was never human at all. This just wasn't his week; and it wasn't looking like it was about to get any better. At least he had a good fuck the night before.
"Doc, the way I see it is that you only have two Marines left, me and Jim over here; the other ships never made it down here. And if what ever is on this planet is worth killing me over than it would help you to survive getting there." It was a start, Jones could feel the gun against his scalp slowly lowering.
"If I wanted you dead I would have already done so. You see, I need you to stop poking around in my business and just do your jobs." something about Fitzgerald was unsettling. Jones stared, trying to displace the feeling of discomfort as he continued talking, "We've almost found the Tablets. Only one last dig and then we can all go home as heroes. No one will know what happened to the other ships or anything else that happened on this planet." he had it. It was his gold-rimmed glasses, they made his blue eyes appear twice as large and wholly four times as piercing. Fitzgerald looked at him unblinking. "Why is it that you think our ship is still intact while none of the others made it?"
"Dammit." a gun clattered to the floor. "Then-- this is Earth, isn't it?"
"Clever, clever Fos. You've all learned the histories about the old human empire. Imagine the power buried below our very feet. The Tablets were created to extend that history, they've already compiled EVERYTHING, we just have to find it. We could end the war and unite humanity again. To return to our former glory."
"And with that power they destroyed themselves. You can't repeat the past," Jones was horrified, as part of the Marine training they studied about Earth and the the Human Dominion. It's fall had started the wars over 2,000 years ago.
"Can't repeat the past? Why of course I can!"
Do make sure to check out the other Bloggers for the conclusions to their stories.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Story Extravaganza: Part 4
These are starting to get long. Today's story comes from Marlon's Blog, and tomorrow it will be returning there. Which means, tomorrow I'll get to add the conclusion to my story.
I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave."Ever sit home and wonder to yourself--" I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. "if you had a gun to your head," I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave."what are the limits of what you would do and what you wouldn't?" I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave."Well I hope this was on your list of hypothetical scenarios" EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN IS A BLUR . I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave."Because we don't have a lot of time." I don't know what this person thinks; I'm nobody, I've never helped anyone with anything, I have no skills, I'm just a potato man.
How far am I willing to go? Will pulling the trigger help anyone, or will I remain just a potato man? Questions, I find myself asking myself so many questions and finding so little answers. Sometimes I don't even know who I am anymore. I hold this guns, as I have many times before. This time, this time will be different, this time I will know what the limit of what I would do. Death is just another beginning, but I just can't find the time to start. What are the limits of what I would do? I guess this is just beyond that limit. Why do I want to hold on to my life? Maybe I'm not meant for death, maybe today I can finally help someone, maybe today I will no longer be just a potato man.
I looked up from the diary, pondering the words that sat before me. These guys are fucked up. Seriously. I looked out across the landscape of Venus. It was a beautiful place, since the Dluzak corporation has teraformed it. The purple sky, was a decent shade, and the sky was clear. Sadly I still had to wear a breather. Two Champion class fighters flew over my head as I flicked my cigarette pack into the distance. The diary was found deep inside the relics of the third planet in the solar system. Those scientists, there crazy, they feel at one point the third planet may have not only been blue, but inhabited. The natural radiation levels, were now much to high to support life, but they are speculating now that thousands of years ago, there were people on that planet. That some kind of great cataclysms killed them all off. I focused back on the Diary and read on.
I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. There's a moment when you snap; when you realize that every moment is the same. I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. What would you do to escape? What are the limits of what you would do and what you wouldn't? I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. Maybe today I can finally help someone-- I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave-- to live and be more than a potato man. I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. "if you had a gun to your head," I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN IS A BLUR. I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. BANG. I wake up.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Story Extravaganza: Part 3
Day 3 of story time. Today's story began it's life at Butter Side Up, and yesterday made a stop at the Admiral's Log. These are going to start to be pretty lengthy posts. And also here's the official schedule:
"Life isn't always fair" my parents would tell me, well you don't even have to be living anymore to be screwed over; my name is Derrick Safferfrack, and I've been dead for five years now. I guess to learn about the situation I'm in I should probably tell you how I got where I am now. Back when I had my own body I was led an underwhelming life. I worked from nine to five, and my "hobby" was to sit on the computer every night wishing there was more to life. Twenty-seven years of doing the least possible and hoping for more and in one day I was wishing I could have all of that back.
It was Autumn. And Thursday. I hated Thursdays. And honestly I hated Autumn. It was the calm before winter and the cool after the summer months. It was so... bland. It reminded me of myself. And I hated it for that. So on this particular Thursday, there was an accident. No I wasn't involved, but it would still change my life. Chilesia. That was her name and she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Or at least at Aunt Jemima High. I taught there, as she was a TA working on her teaching degree. She has the most lovely ebony skin and perfect hair. I loved her the day I met her. So the accident. One day while I worked at my computer (I spent most of my time playing Galaxy of Space Quest, even at work) I heard an explosion outside. It was Chilesia.... oh god.... Little did I know, that following this tragedy in less than 24 hours would be my own death....
Death itself was quick and uneventful by large; it was the afterward that I was unprepared for. You imagine heaven and hell, but it's something so grand by comparison there is no way to describe it. I was in what appeared to be a large and infinite warehouse, it was completely empty aside from the other dozen or so people near enough to see. The others were walking all in the same direction, almost as if they had somewhere they needed to go. I tried to walk over to the nearest. A woman--Chilesia! she would be here somewhere--but as I attempted to draw closer I was stopped. My mind flooded with the command and my body tensed. That's when I first met one of the Custodians. It appeared from the unending ceiling and it was a hovering robotic creation at seemed to be humanoid only it ended at the waist. It was holding a tablet or pad of sorts.
"You have been processed. Disturbance of the others cannot be tolerated. Return to your directive."
"No. Dammit! I have not been 'processed.' What's going on here?"
The bot slowed and swung back around to look at me. It looked from me to his pad and then back to me, before pecking at the pad's surface.
"I am un-qualified to assess this. I am afraid that you do not exist."
To be continued tomorrow at The Thoughts of a Marlon.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Story Extravaganza: Part 2
For today's story I will be adding to David's Story from over at Admiral's Log. The rest of the BEDA crew I have linked on over on the side bar. And my story will be continued on Marlon's Blog for today.
And this really is much tougher than I thought it would be.
Steven Blizsinski was a normal fellow. He lived a normal life in an everyday situation. Except when he went to Thermastelya. It was a magical place that was, sadly, inside one of Steven's socks. He had found it doing something rather uncouth with a sock and felt something oddly cold. When he looked he was pulled inside to this magic world. The odd thing was, everyone inside this world, everyone was an object that in the normal world was inanimate, like clothes or furniture. Steve's best friend from Thermastelya was a cardigan named Chuck. The two of them had a great adventures all the time. One day however that all changed...
Steven Blizsinski and Chuck where having a normal day in and everyday fashion. At first nothing was extraordinary in Thermastelya. The duo had just spent the afternoon sneaking into homes and unpairing Sock children, for this was the type of adventures that Steven Blizsinski and Chuck enjoyed the most. Afterwhich, they returned to Chuck's Drier, but something was off. Chuck started to sneeze. Steven Blizsinski had never seen a cardigan sneeze before, it never occurred to him that cardigan's had noses or eyes or even souls--this however was a magical world, and Steven Blizsinski sometimes failed to actually acknowledge this. And Chuck continued to sneeze, which struck him as odd as he didn't realize that he could sneeze either. Discovering the root of the problem Steven Blizsinski quickly realized that there was cat hairs on everything in the Drier.
Steven Blizsinski was a normal fellow. He lived a normal life in an everyday situation. Except when he went to Thermastelya. It was a magical place that was, sadly, inside one of Steven's socks. He had found it doing something rather uncouth with a sock and felt something oddly cold. When he looked he was pulled inside to this magic world. The odd thing was, everyone inside this world, everyone was an object that in the normal world was inanimate, like clothes or furniture. Steve's best friend from Thermastelya was a cardigan named Chuck. The two of them had a great adventures all the time. One day however that all changed...
Steven Blizsinski and Chuck where having a normal day in and everyday fashion. At first nothing was extraordinary in Thermastelya. The duo had just spent the afternoon sneaking into homes and unpairing Sock children, for this was the type of adventures that Steven Blizsinski and Chuck enjoyed the most. Afterwhich, they returned to Chuck's Drier, but something was off. Chuck started to sneeze. Steven Blizsinski had never seen a cardigan sneeze before, it never occurred to him that cardigan's had noses or eyes or even souls--this however was a magical world, and Steven Blizsinski sometimes failed to actually acknowledge this. And Chuck continued to sneeze, which struck him as odd as he didn't realize that he could sneeze either. Discovering the root of the problem Steven Blizsinski quickly realized that there was cat hairs on everything in the Drier.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Story Extravaganza: Part 1
Today is my 50th blog post! 50! So, in honor of this occasion I'm starting, "Another Multipart Postacular Extravaganza."
That is that I'm joining in with the other BEDA bloggers to create a set of tandem stories. What this means is that today I will write a paragraph of a story, tomorrow my story will be continued on another blog until it goes through everyone and back to me (while I add a paragraph to each other story (I don't know what order these will move around or I would specify)), once my story returns here to Meyrific I'll write a conclusion to "my" story.
It was cold down on the surface. With the scientists still asleep, Jim Fozan was roused awake by the wind. He couldn't seem to adjust to the sound of the howling. He couldn't place why it upset him, but it didn't seem to phase the rest of the expedition. So, he wasn't about to start complaining, he did, however, miss the comfort of his bed. His bed and his wife. He missed her too; well, most of the time. She stayed on Terra. Ember had always hated the idea of space; he lived for space.
The rest of the expedition was largely a civilian group, aside from himself and Jones. All they were concerned with was that the Tablets were on this planet, after a century of research and the code had just been broken, it had to be here; they hoped at least. And they mamaged to convience the Government that this was indeed the case.
If he was supposed to protect these scientists, it'd be nice if they would actually listen.
That is that I'm joining in with the other BEDA bloggers to create a set of tandem stories. What this means is that today I will write a paragraph of a story, tomorrow my story will be continued on another blog until it goes through everyone and back to me (while I add a paragraph to each other story (I don't know what order these will move around or I would specify)), once my story returns here to Meyrific I'll write a conclusion to "my" story.
It was cold down on the surface. With the scientists still asleep, Jim Fozan was roused awake by the wind. He couldn't seem to adjust to the sound of the howling. He couldn't place why it upset him, but it didn't seem to phase the rest of the expedition. So, he wasn't about to start complaining, he did, however, miss the comfort of his bed. His bed and his wife. He missed her too; well, most of the time. She stayed on Terra. Ember had always hated the idea of space; he lived for space.
The rest of the expedition was largely a civilian group, aside from himself and Jones. All they were concerned with was that the Tablets were on this planet, after a century of research and the code had just been broken, it had to be here; they hoped at least. And they mamaged to convience the Government that this was indeed the case.
If he was supposed to protect these scientists, it'd be nice if they would actually listen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)