I have this on PIMD, and I was uploading it there, but my phone broke, and I'm now unable to post on PIMD because the people at ATA haven't made it possible to post in forums on pc... but here's the story... Now, I don't claim to be a great writer or anything, hell, i'm only 15, so I doubt I could be considered one, but please don't judge me to hard, and uf you want, go ahead and ask to join the story (include a guideline over who you want your character to be) or give some tips or ideas as to how you want the story to be. Long intro finished, here's my much longer first chapter Who Do You Trust? The forest stretched out before him, soaked in a thin fog, giving it an eerie b-list horror movie feel. "This is why I hate gym" he says, before taking out the laminated map and beginning the search for the posts... Over an hour later, he's slowly making his way through the dense bushes beneath the passive evergreen trees, now white with frost. The cold seeped in through his jeans, loose against his legs, and as he walked, the cold jeans repeatedly rubbed against his legs, chilling them even more. His black and white Vans were covered in cold, wet, swampy forest water. The forest seemed as if it went on forever, and as he endured the chill of late November, he considered the possibility that he was lost. The trees looked the same wherever he went, the path appeared to never change, amd the stillness of the forest, an utter silence broken only by the soft footsteps on the damp moss, as well as the rythmic thumping of his heart, straining to keep blood flowing through his veins. The task given to him by his gym teacher was yet unfullfilled, but nobody was expected to find all 15 posts in a single hour, so his efforts wouldn't be looked down upon. Even if the teacher wasn't satisfied, at least he had tried. Eventually reaching a crossroads, the boy realized he'd been subconsiously following a mixture of sound- the distant boys from his class shouting to each other-, memory- he hadn't been able to bring it up on command, but his brain still remembered the way he'd travelled-, and pure, blind luck. He turned right, then after a couple more minutes of stiff and cold joints moving as one, he finally exited the forest, reaching the school, where e could already see several busses (is that right?) lined up. None of them were the one that drove to where he needed to go. He entered the hallway, just outside of the gym, where he had left his backpack before the class had begun. The gym teacher himself was nowhere in sight. Although he'd probably get in trouble for it, the boy took the paper, marked in a couple places by different sized holes, and dropped it to the floor, before leaving the map in a similar fashion. He then picked up his bag, walked out of the door, and went home on his bus, once it came.
Only a few tense switches, but it's good. I approve. By the way, I'm strongly considering posting my new story here. I just don't think anyone's going to read it... I didn't get much feedback after Revolution :S
Hey Kate, hey MORDICI, thanks for the feedback, cheesemuffin the story itself is already written on PIMD, and although there's undoubtably mistakes in it, I don't think I'll change anything Still, appreciate it! ;-)
Chapter 2: Day 0 The dreams came and went, bringing their terrors and bliss in equal amounts. But this one... was different. It didn't seem like a dream, at least, he felt like he was awake, but he didn't remember waking up. Looking around, he saw a lake surrounding him, crystal clear, yet seemingly bottomless. Beneath him was... Nothing, no island, no piece of wood, nothing substantial except for the lake. Yet he was still standing. Pondering what sort of dream this was, he suddenly fell, finding out that the lake was extraordinarily cold, as if he had dived into a pool in mid-November in Norway. Despite the feeling of cold, he began to sink, and in seconds was desperately swimming upwards. But which way was up? He was disoriented, struggling to figure out which way was up, then he saw a single bubble floating through the water, towards the wonderful air his lungs were painfully calling out for. His vision was getting darker, his pain was becoming greater, as his focus was entirely on the bubble, nothing else mattered, and it seemed like it was getting bigger, closer, egging him on, almost teasing him. Then his vision went out, but he could still feel. As his lungs cried out one final time, sending the signal to the brain, telling it that it wasn't going to last, the signals then were sent to his jaw, which opened, filling his insides with... Air? His vision cleared instantly, his thought returned, and he passed out. He was only out for a second or two before awakening. He suddenly remembered what was going on, and tried to turn on the lights in his room, only to find that the walls were completely smooth and... curved? As his eyes opened, shock ran through him as he saw he was inside the bubble. But, how? 'It's not real, remember you're dreaming' His own mental voice tried to calm him down, until his voice of logic intervened, stating that this must be one hell of a dream if he can feel cold, drowning, and passing out without waking up in the "real" world. While he was deliberating, the bubble silently moved, although there was no way of telling how fast it was going, how far away it was from where he'd started, or if it was even real. At least, there wasn't until a small, extremely distant shape formed in the distance. Despite its miniscule size, against the flat nothingness around him, it stuck out as if the Eiffel Tower suddenly showed up, full scale, at his school, elevators, stairs, tourists and shops included. As he stared at the distant figure, he wondered as to what it was, as well as noticing that although the bubble wasn't much larger than he was, the air in it seemed to be lasting for quite a while. As he considered that thought, the figure suddenly wasn't so distant, and it appeared to be a massive, upside down fishbowl, except for the fact that the whole thing was glowing.
CHAPTER 3 The bubble began to slow, or at least, that's how it seemed to the boy; with little to no point of relevance it was hard to judge what speed something has. About half a minute later, the bubble was very close to the much larger dome, which the boy couldn't quite see through, the light coming from it seemed to reflect everything back, just brighter. The bubble he was in suddenly sped up, hurtling towards the dome, which looked impenetrable. The boy tried to get out of the bubble, sure it was going to be crushed against the side of the dome, only to find that the bubble was a bubble no longer, but a glass cage. Suddenly he couldn't breathe anymore. He was suffocating for the second time in the same dream! His vision was still bright, and with growing terror he saw something like spikes, sharp and lethal, stretching out to meet his bubble. From the looks of it, he would either be crushed against the side, or impaled by the spikes. His vision grew dark again, his head light, his lungs again cried out in pain. He fell to the floor of his bubble, and just before his vision went black completely, the bubble hit the dome.
CHAPTER 4- 2nd day AAAAAAAAHHH! He sat bolt upright, immediately smacking his head against the bunk above him. He then fell sideways out of bed, knocking over his large stack of books. Well, they were school books, who cares. He got up slowly, it was pitch black, and although he knew his room well, he just knocked his head hard against the top bunk, which was covered in stuff like old toys and more books, then fell out of bed. He was pretty disoriented. So he slowly and carefully walk over to where the light switch should be, and once he felt it, he flicked it up, and was instantly blinded. It took him a minute or two for his eyes to adjust, before looking around. His books were still there, lying scattered everywhere now, he'll have to clean that up. Frowning, he saw that there was a couple books missing, so he decided to waste a bit of time looking for them. His bed was right across from the door, and he turned to the left, searching systematically, starting at his desk. It wasn't too messy, it had a couple of workbooks opened, which he closed and through on top of his other schoolbooks. He then checked his desktop to see if there was any new messages from anyone. Disappointed, he turned off the screen and resumed the search, looking under the desk. He quickly saw there wasn't any point in checking, the wouldn't have been any room for them there with both the office chair and his guitar amp underneath it. The boy decided that since he was already going through his stuff he might as well clean out some stuff, so he opened some of the drawers in the desk's sides, removing some of his old papers, old notices that were long since passed, texts turned in, graded and written in his grade book ages ago. The pictures from another life, one he'd almost forgotten, those stayed with him, reminded him of what and who he'd come from. That life could never be left behind, it was one of those things you just can't drop and move on. Closing the drawers, he took the removed papers and piled them up on the floor. He moved over to the closet, on the opposite side of the desk, and looked down at himself. Realizing he was still in his underwear, he opened up the closet, and took out a pair of well-worn jeans, a simple black shirt with a caramel colored stripe in the middle, and a hoodie with some sort of graffiti tag on it. Fully dressed, he almost forgot what he was doing, until he again saw the knocked over books. Then he walked over to his shelves, right next to the closet, with at least 3 rows of books, some of which he suddenly was tempted to take out there and then, but none of them were his missing school books. Having checked his entire room, he had no idea where to look. Then the boy remembered the previous day... "Owen!" Right, Owen had borrowed his books the day before, only narrowly avoiding getting in trouble again. Owen's been forgetting his books for class, and he's gotten a few notices, and a warning that if it continues, it will affect his grades. Owen pretty much shrugged it off, asking the boy if he wanted to hang out after school. He always shrugged stuff off, almost without a care in the world, just taking things as they come. That was his business. The boy was fine with hanging out with Owen, so long as it didn't collide with any previous plans. The 10th grade was brutal, and they really didn't let up when it came to work. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, the boy grabbed his schoolbooks and promptly shoved them in his bag. He took the backpack and went downstairs. His mom was still asleep, but the dog, as usual, was wide awake and oh so very happy to see him. He let her out of her cage, and she ran around him, tail wagging like she'd not seen him in years, as opposed to him being home last night. He pet her as he laid his bag on the ground, going into the kitchen to have some breakfast. The dog tried to follow him, but a quick word from him stopped her at the doorframe. "You know you're not allowed in the kitchen, Lucy." says the boy to his dog. She wags her tail, mouth open, tongue out, not listening to a words he says. As usual. Je golden retriever stayed where she was, though, as the boy made and ate his usual breakfast, corn flakes, milk and a tad of sugar to make it a little less boring. After that was finished, he went back upstairs to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He checked his watch, and quickly ran downstairs, grabbed his bag and ran out the door to catch the bus.