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| Writing For Mr. Mogford | |
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| Topic Started: January 15 2008, 06:50 PM (202 Views) | |
| Loltroll | January 15 2008, 06:50 PM Post #1 |
Never Forget <3
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Josh Whitekettle Gothic Essay 10/1/08 Ivan grumbled to himself. The floor he woke up on was cold and damp. Not that he hadn't experienced it in the countless tavern basements he woke up on but this one had a different feeling. The normal hangover feeling of the tavern was replaced with a feeling he couldn't describe. For one, he couldn't remember anything of the recent events. Was he here for an hour? A week? A year? Ivan's hands felt for the sword he wore with him where everywhere he went. He realized something was definitely wrong when he grabbed for the hilt and instead found himself tugging at his hip bone. Realizing he still had no idea where he was, Ivan opened his eyes. The room around him was dark, the only light was flitting in between the bars separating him from the hallway outside. He pulled himself to his feet, bones cracking with every bend. The floor was bare, save for the occasional blood stain, which Ivan would have been more worried if it had been his blood but his body was devoid of wounds. The walls were cluttered with broken chains and cuffs, and a window with bars. Ivan strolled to the window and peered out, recognizing only the three bricks plastered on from the outside. He glanced around, remembering the bars to his room. Hurrying, he jogged to the bars. Though too small to fit through, the bars were rusted enough that with the aid of Ivan's experience working on his farm, he busted through. The hall outside was brighter than the room but still dark. Ivan heard the footsteps and faint chatter and hurried back into his cell. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for a weapon. Deciding on the chains attached to the wall, he ripped them out with several forceful tugs and listened again for the footsteps. They were definitely coming closer, but from what direction? And what language were they speaking? Certainly not Russian or any kind of Russian dialect Ivan knew of. The footsteps turned around the corner and the two Turkish guards went about peering into other barred doors and yelling threatening sounding words and continuing on and chuckling to themselves. They were getting closer. The sweat beaded on his neck and adrenaline flowed through his veins. His mind ran with thoughts of home and what could go wrong in the next minute. The thought of dying alone, in this atmosphere of death and dreariness did not please him. The footsteps were closer now. Ivan saw the pointed hat of the Turk peek past the cell door. He whipped the chain into the first guards face and jumped back into the cell as the other guard drew his sword. The second guard faced Ivan from the other side of the room and kept his distance. What in reality was merely 20 seconds, the two found each other glaring at each other for what felt like hours. A prisoner's shout drew the guards attention away for a second. Ivan struck fast. He dashed behind the guard and whipped the chain around bewildered guards throat. The guard swung his sword wildly and tugged at the chain around his throat. His sight of a crazed Russian and the cell ceiling soon became blurred, and the blur became darkness. Ivan felt something snap and the struggling subsided. The clawing at his hands ceased and piercing silence came over the dungeon. not done yet lol |
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| Loltroll | January 15 2008, 09:52 PM Post #2 |
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Never Forget <3
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Ivan grumbled to himself. The floor he woke up on was cold and damp. Not that he hadn't experienced it in the countless tavern basements he woke up on but this one had a different feeling. The normal hangover feeling of the tavern was replaced with a feeling he couldn't describe. For one, he couldn't remember anything of the recent events. Was he here for an hour? A week? A year? Ivan's hands felt for the sword he wore with him where everywhere he went. He realized something was definitely wrong when he grabbed for the hilt and instead found himself tugging at his hip bone. Realizing he still had no idea where he was, Ivan opened his eyes. The room around him was dark, the only light was flitting in between the bars separating him from the hallway outside. He pulled himself to his feet, bones cracking with every bend. He stretched and glanced where he was laying. The floor was bare, save for the occasional blood stain, which Ivan would have been more worried if it had been his blood but his body was devoid of wounds but conspicuously tattoo reading “100231”. The walls around the room were cluttered with broken chains and cuffs which once held unluckier people than him, and a window with bars. Ivan strolled to the window and peered out, recognizing only the three bricks plastered on from the outside blocking his view. He glanced around, remembering the bars to his room. Hurrying, he jogged to the barred door. Though too small to fit through, the bars were rusted enough that with the aid of Ivan's experience working on his farm, he busted through. The hall outside was brighter than the room but still dark. Ivan heard footsteps and faint chatter and hurried back into his cell. Whoever was in this place obviously didn't want him to escape if he was put into a barred cell. His eyes darted back and forth, looking around the room for a weapon. Deciding on the chains attached to the wall, he ripped them out with several forceful tugs and listened again for the footsteps. They were definitely coming closer, but from what direction? And what language were they speaking? Certainly not Russian or any kind of Russian dialect Ivan knew of. The footsteps turned around the corner and the two Turkish guards went about peering into other barred doors and yelling threatening sounding words and continuing on and chuckling to themselves. They were getting closer. The sweat beaded on his neck and adrenaline flowed through his veins. His mind ran with thoughts of home and what could go wrong in the next minute. The thought of dying alone, in this atmosphere of death and dreariness did not please him. The footsteps were closer now. Ivan saw the pointed hat of the Turk peek past the cell door. He whipped the chain into the first guards face and he slumped to the ground. Ivan jumped back into the cell as the other guard drew his sword. The second guard faced Ivan from the other side of the cell and kept his distance. What felt like hours, the two found each other glaring at each other seconds. Sweat ran down Ivan's face and every muscle was tense. Another prisoner's shout drew the guards attention away for a second. It only took a second for Ivan to act. He dashed behind the guard and whipped the chain around bewildered guards throat. The guard swung his sword wildly and tugged at the chain around his throat to try and free himself.. His last sight of a half-crazed Russian and the cell ceiling soon became blurred, and the blur became darkness, the darkness became nothingness. Ivan felt something snap and the struggling subsided. The clawing at his hands ceased and piercing silence came over the dungeon. Ivan searched the Turk's armour. Besides some coin and a smaller dagger, there was something more important. In a letter addressed in both Turkish and Russian, it showed a number and a description of a crime or other infraction. Ivan searched for his name. He couldn't find it and in anger he tossed the paper to the ground. The document landed with the back side facing up and on the back Ivan read in recently scrawled hand writing “Prisoner 100231: Murder, Victims: Wife”. Ivan stood in disbelief. His shock was only outweighed by his shame. He had murdered his wife in a fit of blind rage. He couldn't remember committing the act. He couldn't even remember any previous fights or arguments. Ashamed, he walked the halls in a fog, unlocking all the other prisoners. He marched to the top of the highest tower. Looking out over the sunset, Ivan was filled with sorrow. He looked into the sky and saw darkness slowly pushing the sun beyond the horizon. Clouds began to form and thunder and a light rain began. When the fighting between the guards and prisoners subsided and the prisoners fled into the nearby wilderness, Ivan took one last longing look at the cliff below. He felt as if he was in a trance. He felt his feet lift off the side of the tower and saw the landscape falling freely with him. He saw sweet memories, he saw sad memories. Then he hit the ground. there you go finished version |
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| Dante | January 16 2008, 04:14 PM Post #3 |
MR. SERIOUS INTERNET
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I like it a lot... Except for the end. If you really wanted to, you could develop this more. There is no build-up to the suicide. And I doubt that anyone would really think without a doubt that they had killed a person just from what a piece of paper said. Despite that, its good writing and a good story. |
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| FOUR | January 16 2008, 08:09 PM Post #4 |
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Hay man Ima fucktard
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| Loltroll | January 16 2008, 08:25 PM Post #5 |
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Never Forget <3
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i didnt feel like building on it i hate writing so i ended him and i ended the story |
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| Loltroll | January 16 2008, 09:20 PM Post #6 |
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Never Forget <3
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This was the first thing i started but i didnt know what to do so i just ended and started a new thing It’s funny, in retrospect, isn’t it, Sarah? My name is Georgio Paulin. Sarah Jenson and I are in love. At least, you said we were in love, Sarah. Do you remember how we met? Of course you do. We met on Facebook. You said I was hot. You sent me a Facebook gift. No one ever sent me anything, but you sent me a candy bottle cap. You said it was because I was sweet. I said you were cute. I never felt as happy as those weeks chatting with you. We met in the park, your favorite place. We did a lot in that park, didn’t we, Sarah? I worried about you, Sarah, meeting men in parks... You didn’t understand how dangerous the world is. Who was he, Sarah? Who did I catch with you? Why did you yell? Why did you tell your parents? You lied to them, Sarah, you know he fell down by accident. They didn’t understand our love, Sarah. They registered me. You told everyone awful, terrible lies about myself, you played the victim. You clever duck, I thought you were mature for your age…a wise, old soul, but you didn’t see me when I followed you home from work, did you? That buzzing in your head isn’t guilt for me, though, Sarah. It’s the anesthesia. They’ve figured out where you are. Do you hear the sirens, Sarah? I don’t. I hear our wedding bells. Would you like a bottle cap, Sarah? Ha…do you get it, Sarah? Do you see what I did there, Sarah? Goodbye, Sarah… |
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| Dante | January 16 2008, 10:18 PM Post #7 |
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MR. SERIOUS INTERNET
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Thats cool, but I don't think he would like it. It sounds more of a psychotic internet break down than a gothic story, but I like it. And you are a good writer, so you shouuuuld enjoy it. And build on it. |
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| Loltroll | January 17 2008, 12:40 AM Post #8 |
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Never Forget <3
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meh... |
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5:41 PM Mar 11
