Journey

Bella bella dancing there
with cocklecombs done in your hair
the stars are burning burning bright
and all is shining with the light
and Malgomir with blusen eyes
looks skyward with eternal guise
for man is going far and wide
forgetting ever the eternal bride
they had left through ages long
when Man had come to sound the gong
herald cry ringing new
the bell of Antvert sang of blue
when skies were wet and full of life
and forests grew amidst the strife
where ashen cities crumbled down
and Bella blue had sewn her gown
the wedding day was fast upon them
when Malgomir sang and danced in amber glen
the wedding song was chosen, trumpets all and horns and drums
for mans great journey from under the slums
and in a moment bare laid down in time
they wept for Future sake and Time
one kiss and then
in amber glen
Bella dear with ashen finger
pointed near to trumpets linger
on bright red flame they rose on air
noses pointed towards Bellas hair
in one great rush the trumpets roar
bellowed forth and through the door
Bella bright and Malgomir
ran with grace as though in dare

Asmale met death in the MorD'Moth. For a moment the twisted glassen towers of Bal'Horbir filled with the sweet smell of blood, and then the plague-daemon Gilgar, with eyes of a million stars and hide like an



In the sixth milleneum I was borne, or so they tell me. The sun was hot that year, a huge mass of red on the eastern rim. They named me Asmael, after my mother. The vax which brought my fathers body home three years later said that I had not cried during birth, yet had only looked around as though thoughtful, and when my mother had let Azer cleanse me of my birth cloak I had giggled, delightedly. Azer is all I have now that mother was taken. I suspect a beast from the sky had eaten her, a wally or a malbir. I remember seeing her balloon set off at noon, her white hands waving goodbye. She was supposed to have come back by sunset, before the bigger monsters came out, but she didn't. Alec, the server robot, found the balloon in Poison the next day, a grash busy cutting and laying out strips on the ground. Her body was never found, nor was it expected to be. I didn't cry when we burned a tree for her. Death is expected in this world of ours, and to be afraid of it would be foolish. Don't get me wrong. I was sad That was a year ago. Now i'm 10, living

Bella bella are you there?
The nebulii burn dark in midnight hair
the jewel of stars around your neck
are softly softly calling beck
and come to serve in mighty fires
Mans great ships shall hold wide pyres
and regal trails of embers glowing
across the stars with man-a-stowing
knowledge power fear and greed
riding riding on one great steed
a thousand mile trailing wake
stab heavens heart with one great stake
a driveflare here and there and there
oh where oh where o bella dear?
shall man go now that earth is gone
and heavens fools shout Amethon
that cursed world of darkly bellows
churning churning in the mellows
we don't want and have no need
for short men of staturous greed
Bright Mal'Gomir! came the cry
the apple in dear heavens eye
the world who knows no dark
and whose countenance is hardly stark
whose orbit follows drion 3
and four more suns of same degree
the gardens there are quite amazing
but your mind will soon be blazing
no dark soon brings insanity
Fine, the masses cry,
what of warm Kalma Ty?
The world of dark and light is sane
one sun blazes through a window pane
the natives cool and calm and grey
with backs of leather and silicon prey?
Hold hold! I gave a cry,
do you not forget the tale of Meleme Dry?
Who went to Kalma Ty with brightest hopes
and crashed among the moldy slopes?
His ship they cast into the sun
his frame they detoxed till he was done
That planet is too dangerous to bear
i'd rather sleep in a cavecats lair
For a final blow
they suggested fine Amalgamo
The puters ticked and hummed
and my fingers they were drummed
until a paper bright and clean
flashed from the heart of great machine
theres nothing wrong with Amalgamo
said the heart that knew no slow
so venture there and we shall see
it should only take us two weeks three
The fires lit in mighty forges
flames cast down the metal gorges
the C/E drive which we designed
soon cast our dead world far behind
we drifted along perhaps a week
before the helmsman took a peek
out heavens door
and hit the floor
for man is strangely weak
and if you dare to see or speak
of what you glimpse in bella's plight
when traveling faster than quick light
the mind shall twist and turn in knots
and require transferal to many pots.
Lost!, we cried, without a man
to hear or see in Bella's plan
we drifted blindly to and fro
until we happened upon gentle Gwinneflow
the air is fine the sand is warm
all that bothers is a swarm
of pseudo-insects large and small
but gravity is not at all
so float and fly
among the sky
all we have behind us is yet another lullaby

Walrat

I...had a dream, that the nebulii were as forests of trees, and the swift suns rose in countless numbers to greet the dawn of Man, and as the first of the Great White Ships met the ridge the very fabric of space warped and bled and all the colours of Reality sparkled in this new Morning. I...had a dream, that as the Great C/E Ships rose in the clear morning air and drifted over the towering Clouds of mighty Magellan he saw the countless suns of Morning, and saw the shining light of our great future reflect on the hulls of the Ships which had brought us to this Great Shore of stars Man stood in awe of Creation and His design, and as His grand Fleet sped onward over these mighty Cliffs of Creation He stood in awe of our undertaking.
I...had a dream, that the sky of Bal'Harmoth, never before having seen the darkness, was crossed neverending with the Fleets of Man.
I...had a dream, that the green Skies of Hal'Morth and those of wide Bal'Mador and effervescent Mir'Damorth, ever knowing of the Night would be lit with the constant flares of Mens Great C/E Ships, and the Driveflares of Millions more would bloom in the Great Night like the fireflies of lost Earth, and a Spark would light in Mans chest to seek out Knowledge and take his journey to the far reaches of Space.
I...had a dream, of a collosal Construction at the Edge of Space, a great Lighthouse

the light of Bal'Morth shall shine in the night sky evermore, echoing forth from the great Lighthouse of Bar'Darum, at the Shore of the Seas of Elbis and through the entire galaxy shall the Light help Man, who in his quest for Knowledge and Conquest shall become Lost in his dream and seek a Light for a Safe Return.

A Treatise on Infinity

Infinity is not but a word that some such fool of the middle ages whispered into abyss, yet it is an idea, and an idea which can be fleshed out, brought to the light, understood by the laymen who thinketh it is such only a word can be understood by demons and Satan himself, but which can be explained by such a thinker that believes it to be what it truly is, which is not the straight, never ending, always forming line it is thought of today, but an object one must think of as already there, as being a circle-but-not-a-circle, a line which is already there when it is formed, for you see infinite cannot be ever forming for it would not be infinite, it would be almost infinite, and to be infinite it would have to have been formed all at once, so to think of a quark, the smallest of the subatomic particles, three of which comprise a meson, is to think of infinite as compared to the nearly infinite as thought of today, and as such the quark would be represented by infinite, as it is already there and already formed, and the meson, formed by these things which are nearly infinite would be todays variation on infinite, for one cannot travel infinite but can only try and reach it, so to reach it one must only stand still and BE, and thus one can reach infinity and BE infinity by not attempting infinity, and by following that such train of thought we must then say that we are all infinite, but that cannot be, so we must think of all of us as a part of each other and we are all THERE at the same time, as our quarks were THERE forever, so we, each and all of us, are INFINITE.

An army, a thousand strong, camping for the night. The immense floor of the crater crawled with Soldiers, campfires and tents flaring up in the center. The escarpment glittered with dull reflections and echoed the voices of hundreds of men. Mary watched the confusion, wondering why such a force was wandering the wastes. Lost, perhaps? or searching for some front line they may never find? It did not matter. Mary payed them no heed and returned to her Tent and fell into Sleep.



The jurgammersmen whimpered.



Mary awoke to screaming, to blind confusion. The frejn was at the door, beckoning, come quick. "what is it?" she asked. The screeching heightened in pitch, a mad clammering came from the crater. They arrived at the rim. Mary looked out.



Chaos. Soldiers ran screaming, posessed as if madmen held their souls. Above, in the troubled darkness which was Sky, lay a seething mass of Chaos and Nightmare. Half abberant tentacles swept down to carry off running men. The Bell! The Bell which shall Ring at End Time, the seething mass of Chaos which appeareth in the sky above, the RINGING which rends the hearts of Men and drives them wild with fear, the SCREECHING from upon nigh which shall bring an end to sanity. The ringing the ringing! As if from Hell the BELL shall Ring like the thousand
madmen, and, swooping down an omnipresent fist from Satan shall PLUCK the soldiers from the plain and cast them into thew maw of oblivion!
lol. that got carried away. really quickly. yaaaay. but. thats what makes good writing, no? hell yes.

Mary awoke to the frejn standing over her, a bottle of Consciousness in his hand. She blinked once to clear blurry eyes, then stood and thanked it. Outside the wind howled as it always did, the constant rush of dust eternally whipping against the red landscape. Mary heard the mounts whinny, and, noting the absence of a third, wept. The day was young however, and she steeled herself against the loss of her beloved jurgammersman. There was much travelling to be done, and no time to be wasted. Not much to bury anyway.

The tent came down with ease, and once breakfast was had they set off once again into the Red Wastes.

None saw the humanid come snuffling out of the mist. A dead jen hung in its pack. It felt the ground, simple but clear thoughts holding Conjunction.

Followers
one minus
All were here.
missed?
morning.
beans.
shadow.
eateateat
mustmustmust
energy is the soul of all being
go.

The being ate, tearing off large strips of meat and consuming them through its stomache-hole. Then it sifted off into the wastes, following the tracks of Mary and Frejn.

League after league of gray iron dust assailed the travelers, pushing ever onward into the cracks and folds of their beings, lacing their bodies with the rotten remains of long dead civilizations. Great running lights ran every hundred miles, and at these they would stop, cherishing the last vestiges of hope humanity had left on this world. At the second such light they made camp. Frejn dissapeared once more and Mary set up Tent. Throwing the remains of her dinner into the wind, she attempted to sleep. Before she could drink of it, a vibration reached her ears. A dull rumble on the wind, a trembling in the ground. Something large was approaching. Mary stepped out of the tent. Nothing in sight. Of course, that meant nothing in the Maur. Things came and went here with nary a sight, and to see was not to know what was truly there. A clanging joined in, and Mary stepped out of the tent, curious. There. By that crater, that unholy edifice of the old days, therein lay the sound. Ash crumbled beneath her feet as she climbed, the noises growing louder and greater in number. At the rim, She-Who-Searches-For-Her-Husband looked out and beheld the source of the noise.

The Tracker

In the Mor, a Door Opened. Rusty hinges slid back to a weathered iron door. Lights sounded in the Deep, a rumbling welled up. Then only silence, as the wind whistled past and dust rattled against the cold metal. With infinite slowness a head poked up. The Tracker's shelled head faced the wind, thick trunk sniffing the ground. Synapses fired, slow but sharp thought linking the two brains.

Human.
Woman.
something...
Frejn.
shadow
darkness
That Direction
Runner
DANGER
hidehidehide
nonono
runrunrun
eateateat
foodfoodfood
go.

The shuffling semi-human ambled off into the red wind.

Night

Mary looked at the Red Waste, then at the blackened sun slowly descending towards Horizon.
"We'll camp here for Night" she said.
The Frejn dissapeared after dark, which wasn't that surprising. Mary sat alone at the tent opening, watching Poison rise. Sickly green light washed over the landscape, Luna's silvery glow reduced to a pinprick of silver against the obscene form of the mountain in the sky.
When Ring was at half Brightness, Mary drank of Sleep, and as its cool embarce washed over here, her last thoughts were of her Husband and the Frejn.

In the Night, the scent of humanity drifted on the wind. An amorphous blob with moonshine bottled in its insides slid over to the tent, accompanied by a seahorse headed Djarling. Eel formed figures gathered, followed by a glowering abarition. Luna Mor and the Slug Which Shall Be A Mile In Length changed course, and the Million Year Beast began its Thousand Year Blink to catch a sight of the Human curiosity. Drejn tunneled from the Deep, great wyrm-things. Wings sounded in the Night air, causing general uneasyness in the masses below. The night was rent with silent cries and shuffling, as the Creations of Man came to surround the sleeping Mary, standing in silent thought at the sight of She Who Hunts Her Husband.

The Frejn returned at SunUp to find Poison Setting and the luminous population of the Red Wastes slithering back to the Great Deep. It rushed to the shadow of the tent door and found Mary sleeping inside, unharmed.
To a lesser extent had the Jurgammersmen been left alone. Two remained tied to their posts. The third was listing to the side some hundred feet away, a great liquid gash covering the back leg. As the Frejn watched the gash widened and the shrieking animal dissolved. The thirsty ground sucked up the liquid and in seconds nothing remained.
Such were the ways of the Maur.

The Frejn went to administer Consciousness to the sleeping Mary.

The beginning happened on a rainy saturday morning, among the clickings and scratchings of the Hutchins Small Mammal Reasearch Lab. At exactly 7:42 am, an electrode clicked in the spinal column of Test Subject 54-32/G/Hb. Electricity flowed, patterns linked, and a common lab mouse, genially named Marvin by the scientific staff, became the first mammal since Man to gain sentience.

"Who am I?" He thought.
"Whats is my purpose?"
And then;
"Ah fuck this. It's getting too cliche. I'm getting out of here."
Marvin looked at the cage door. A simple drop bolt was all that stood between him and...open space.
Marvin looked down.
"Ah, fuck. They put me on the top shelf."
Marvins nosed twitched as he looked down at the tiled floor, 6 feet below.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Badgers!

The following headline is a clip from the London Times, marked April 17th, 1883.

Essex- Last night an event occured which can only be described as blank and blank. At approximately 7:28 am this morning, the town of Liston recieved a shock as a large mass of Badgers numbering in the thousands descended upon the town.

Acknowledgements

So we have just enough room for an acknowledgements/thank you page. Could we come up with a list of people we would like to thank for their support, etc.?

After we have the acknowledgements taken care of we can get the copies made. Then all we have to do is staple and fold and hand out!

So list away, please!

more ideas

does anyone read this blog anymore? lol. kinda silent...ok so, a woman lives on a hill in some odd place in the middle of nowhere, maybe a large plain. andddddd she goes on adventures, searching for her husband and stuff. lalaslala. humph. and its called like...Mary of the Hill or something really british and old fashioned. cuz you know, steampunk and all that jazz are the future...hmm. my spelling and grammar are really off. there will be mimsies, of course. DAMNIT i had another idea but i forgot...blast. anyway, really old fashioned concepts used in a future millions of years from now. naturally people will look the same as they do now, maybe wearing victorian clothes and laser pistols. nah. meson cannons and quarkium grenades. YAY XD. and yes, they will commune with god at all times and have intimate questions regarding the universe and its wonders. blurgh. ok. the entire story will be written while listening to GRV's Exsomnis, and perhaps more ninja boy. bella bella quite contrair, stars are burning in your hair, gazing out upon abyss, the earth is quiet, Time's amiss. HER NAME IS BELLA. ARGGGHGHHH.

ideas

Imagine that; a seperate universe existed a long time ago and was attacked by a vast creature of nearly unimaginable size. The beings of this universe fought back to no avail, and sought to flee from the universe into another. So, they opened a gateway in the heart of the universe and in a line stretching from the Core some hundred billion lightyears long, they gathered to set through this portal. The creature (who is called the God-Cloud until i come up with a better less cliche name) attacks attempts to attack the core and in a final blow the beings of the universe strike down with a weapon which causes the Universe to fold back, which causes the Abyss to reach up and swallow the God Cloud, essentially trapping it in some Other Plane. The blow starts a chain reaction which slowly destroys the universe, and the 3 surviving members of the War gather at the portal, look back and see nothing but decay, and move on into another universe. which, naturally, is ours. and so they set up civilization, bla bla bla, create the human race, and eventully in the far future we create a religion which is to find this portal to the dying universe and discover our origins. We fly around in planet sized World Ships named Gethsemane and such, looking for the answer. dunno what the story will be calle,d but for the last 4 years ive been working on it and ive only done the intro.
ok second story- its a short story, somewhat based on the one above. Man dies all of a sudden, and asks God or someone of a similar biblical nature what went wrong. The (deity?) then tells man that at the far end of the universe a star exploded at a very precise frequency which caused the entire universe to vibrate in one giant sine wave. The wave comprised of teh energy of teh universe, and when the wave passed over earth the energy was shifted upwars billion lightyears, essentially leaving earth without any energy to support itself. Thus, the entire planet collapsed into dust.
third story- SENTIENT INC.- In the near future, a court case is held deciding on whether or not an animal is self aware enough to be held liable for a crime. The defendent says no, the prosecutor, yes. In some wierd scifi way, the defendant tells the judge it can prove the animal was aware and the judge tells them to come back in a month with the evidence. The two (brothers?) go off and create an implant which they introduce to teh animal and make it sentient. After that theres a blank zone of approx a year in which i have to think of something to occur. After a year, the brothers are getting famous for their discovery aaaaaand there experimenting with other animals. people want it for their pets, and eventually, like in the Rats of NiMH, a sentient animal escapes and starts doing its own thing. It'll prolly actually be a rat, seeing as they can go undetected for long periods of time. Maybe a pigeon. hmm. Thats all I have of the first book. The second book, which is untitled as of yet, has a front cover showing a mouse playing in a wheatfield with a radar dish coming out of its head. This book will go on to describe the problems created when a sentient animal starts creating its own sentient counterparts instead of just humans doing it. The third book will tell of a distant future where all the animals are sentient, most likely including germs and virus'. Mankind will be either challenged or helped by these sentients, depending on my mood. I like it when evil wins, so prolly challenged. There arent any plans for a 4th book, but it would be on a wildy futuristic scale where animals have conquered the galaxy and are moving onward. Imagine a book of stories about mice trading with tigers and the Great Jellyfish Conquest of Aquatia IV. hmm. and the algae has great spaceborn oceans which they keep in orbit around Sirius and constantly have to fight off the beings living in the sun for energy? GREAT. ok. those are my ideas. sorriy for spelling the like teh and the bad grammar. bye now.

The reason Foundation was voted Best Series of All Time and won out LOTR was not because it depicted the decline and fall of a Galactic Empire with its super epic awesome action scenes (for it has none) but is because it enfolds an idea, and that idea is fully realized to the reader. The action is off screen, somewhere else, and the reader is left to imagien it for themselves.

More housekeeping?

1. This is for all, even those who attend the Writing Club regularly:

All submissions must be sent to thechswritingclub@gmail.com ... ALL.

Just do it, okay?

Idea Post

When the last Bell tolls at the end of the world, Man will say "I was"

"He wasn't in the army, or the navy. Nope, Johnny was a member of the freakin' skyfalling space marines. Yessir, 35th division, corporal 2nd class. Won 3 medals his first year, won 3 more for taking out Ceranus. When that planet cracked open, the Generals, they said Johnny was the best they got. Gave him the solid silver cross for that one. Course the Ceranids weren't too happy. Maybe t'was why they hung 'im up on the streetlight like that, organs all tore to pieces..."
Morgan frowned and walked away.

Im trying to not sound like a certain fictionpress message board labeled "what if". So far i'm succeeding.

Bella is God?

What if I took a poem, took each line, spread them out on a page, and made up a story underneath each one that told of my interpretation of the line? damn./ T'would be interesting.

Sooooo you take an everyday event, make it so epic/thoughtful its a story in itself, and BOOM. good scifi. Or you take an everyday idea, such as....feeding a plant, and replace the plantfood with plutonium or something (shit liek that happened everyday back the 40's and 50s ya know) and all of a sudden you have a giant mutant plant on your hands. BOOM. Good scifi.

Little known fact-good scifi stories do not generally make good scifi movies. Case in point, Battlefield Earth and Jerome Bixby's "It's a Good Life"

Idea Dump?

Hey so I think the Writing Club blog would be a great place to share any ideas we pick up from our experiences for anyone to use. Things you might not be able to think of a use for but that other people would be able to incorporate into a written piece. I don't know how you guys feel about it. Maybe you'd rather be greedy. What do you think? (I'll wait for a response before I let my ideas go)

Setting, Character, and Plot

So I thought about this today: the laws in the world of a realistic story can reflect the laws of the real world. Setting, character, and plot are all present in real life too, and they all influence each other. There's a reason why people don't hold birthday parties in mortuaries, why people get stressed out when they're living in a warzone, and why a warzone doesn't looks ruined after a war. Events, environments, and people are all interconnected. If one is changing, then there's a good chance another one is changing too. This relationship expleins the necessity for art in the video game "The Sims". If you give your person too dull of an environment he will literally break down and cry. I'd never really though of how much that aspect of the game holds true in regars to the real world.
There is also the realtionships between events, between people, and between environments. The ocean is constantly interacting with the pine studded shore. The man in solitary confinement is growing lonely. The war is ruining the birthday party. There are three dimensions to everything and those dimensions interact in all ways possible, and always.
I would even venture to say that there can be no person/place/action without place/person/action and action/place/person. This trinity is perhaps even as fundamental as rock, paper scissors, as Heaven, Hell, and Earth or as Bulbasaur, Squirtle, Charmander. Perhaps there is even an analogy to be made, that every change spawns two more changes. All things fork out. Perhaps this forking is the essence of freewill and the soul of consequence: there is always a good and a bad reaction. But there are actually far more than two reactions, well, there are three since character affects character. But there is certainly more than one character setting and action. But there are three characteristics in which we group the objective world (in literature).

What do you think?

Housekeeping

Blah blah blah this isn't very creative stuffs, but if we want the lit mag to run smoothly...

1. Did we settle a few days for the contributing editors (and is that really the right name?) to meet and review the submissions? I don't think we did. We have, scheduled, for the magazines to be printed and bound from December 9-11. This means that we should have entries picked, edited/uploaded onto a computer, artfully arranged in a pleasing manner and ready to go by Wednesday Dec. 9... The Friday before is Coffeehouse, so the contributing editors couldn't meet on that day (unless they didn't mind not helping out the prep for C-house).
If the editors don't mind meeting on a Saturday, December 5, for the whole day, I would assume, then we could maybe just scrape by in time. Email thechswritingclub@gmail.com if this day works and email thechswritingclub@gmail.com if it doesn't, or just comment, what the Hell.

2. Here's the list of assignments:

• Editor: Cote
• Advertising Director: Zeb
• Art Director: Dan
• Photographer: Felix
• Contributing Editors (I really don't think that's the right term): Cote, Libby, Dan, Aaron, Veronica... (What about Submission Directors?)
• Feature Contributors: Whoever we can get. Suggestions are: Ms. Belair, Mr. Sica and other such teachers.
• Cote holds the post of going on announcements, but what about submitting something to be read, everyday until we stop submissions? We could write something pithy and creative.

Right. This is kindasortareally important and as such we should move with all deliberate speed.

Fundraising Idea . . . See

So we're gonna have a book drive, see. And it's gonna be a smooth one, a real smooth book drive. We're gonna load up our automobiles with used books, see, this is how we're gonna do it. Got that Bugsy? We're gonna get other people to load up their cars with books too. Then we're gonna send everybody over to Concord High School, and we're all gonna dump 'em off, see, we're gonna dump off the books at the school for the Writing Club. Nyah, see, we'll make a fortune off of those used books, and we'll use the money to publish the magazine, see. Nyah, that's the plan, you hear that Bugsy? I'll say it again, now, this is how it's gonna be, see, all you fellas are gonna bring in your books, you hear, bring 'em in in your car, and take 'em to the Writing Club booksale. We'll sell other people's books there at cheap prices, see, at real cheap prices! We'll get the men to buy novels, and the broads to buy childrens books, nyah. And when we're finished, we'll grab the loot, from the sale, see, and take off down the road. The money'll be ours, see, all ours, nyah, nyah. We'll use it to print the 1454. Nyah see, you hear that Bugsy, all ours, nyah, nyah, nyah!

1454

I think we have our title for the Literary Magazine. That title is 1454, as in the year Johannes Gutenberg first mass printed the Bible on his printing press. Here is some history on the man. He was born in Mainz Germany around 1398 of noble blood. He was originally named Johann Gensfleisch zur Laden (his mother's maiden name was Gutenberg). He learned ze trade of ze goldsmith. Around 1428 poor Johannes and his family were exiled from Mainz for cavorting with local craftsworking rebels . . . who also led a revolution . . . which they were in. They moved to Strassburg. He is known best for the Gutenberg Bible! (of which, Zeb, St. Paul's has an original copy) Apparently Gutey couldn't see too well in his last months. That's because he was going blind (too much fine print?). He printed the bible first on his little hand press in 1440. This is technically the date, or so says the internet. We can choose either 1440 or 1454 and possibly even 1450 but I don't like the sound of that. 1454's got a ring to it. I'm glad we thought of it off hand, like not because we tried.

Grammerr?

The only thing I know. Is that I know nothing. Or whatever.

Also, I remember that my password is eight characters because it has to be. So, I may have used two numbers.