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patch.
October 16th, 2009, 12:10 PM
Index
So, I felt, as I'm writing here and there now, that I should just make a 'collection' or 'gallery' to host any works or story starts I put up. Feel free to make comments, give reviews, suggest I continue with some pieces, or just read and sit in silence. Though I'd prefer some form of response either way. ;3

A Bit About Me
So, needless to say, I'm patch. If I end a sentence with my name, I refuse to put two full stops. I write in all genres and I'll write both original stuff and fan-fiction - in fact, if you feel up to it, feel free to request a piece - which is one of the reasons I made this gallery, to show it to others. I enjoy talking with other writers and learning tips and techniques, which is one of the reasons I read a lot, to gather new ones (for example, I've read the 'Saga of Darren Shan' series, from which I picked up using certain styles in sentences, like: "And then I gasped - double-gasped, actually! - in horror as the creature approached me." where the bit where I put an additional bit in-between hyphens I gained from Darren's writing style). I have the dream of a career in music, in graphic art, or as an author, as I enjoy writing a lot and would love to sell books and such for kids. Well, I hope you learned some stuff about me from this paragraph. Which you probably didn't. :/

So, what can I find in this thread?
Anything I write will be posted here, regardless of what it is. I'll rate each piece separately rather than rating the thread itself, as I may jump from a low rating to a higher at some point, then back to low. Anything here that is a 'story start', which obviously would be a Prologue or Chapter One, will probably not be continued unless I get support for it. But anyway, enjoy.

A few bits and pieces...
...to start off this gallery. Anything rated N/A means it's acceptable for all ages.

Into The Eyes of the Madman [RATED: PG-13] [STYLE: PROSE] [GENRE: ACTION/GENERAL]
“My name is of no importance,” I stated simply, slotting into the role of the cliché villain. I had set out today to become that of a new generation, a new ‘role model’, but here I was, repeating old lines. I fumbled inside my head, careful not to give any expression away to show I was nervous, and added: “But I call myself Spite if it’s of any interest.”

Well, that was something new. Not only had I given away my newfound alias but I had also come up with it on the spot. It seemed as though I still had a chance at being the new generation of the block.

The female future-nemesis before me almost made me laugh. Not only was her costume an ugly shade of yellow – the costume in itself almost made me burst into my maniacal laughter, as I found them unnecessary and chose not to wear any more than a suit – but she was wearing black contact lenses. Just for a little spruce.

“Either way,” I continued, now beginning to stroll around the empty car park. I had planned it all brilliantly, leaving slight clues at the scene of the crime to drag some ‘superhero’ to the location I had planned. Staging the false fire to drive everyone out of the building whilst the sprinklers threw water on them. Planning everything.

“It’s obvious you have no chance.” The female stated simply, her stone expression unmoving. That was too much. I laughed like the men and women I followed traditionally – maniacal, needless to say.

“Really, my dear? I think quite otherwise.” I continued to move around, circling my foe. Physically she would overcome me, but mentally was quite different. “With poor little Jacob on the line, I don’t see you laying a finger upon me.” I paused to let that sink in. I hadn’t expected a ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ but I received one anyway. “Think of all the great men – and women - of history – the Joker, the Riddler, Harly Quinn. All these people were great figures, shot down by a single member of authority, though he was no different. We are no different.”

“That’s a lie,” she said, biting her lip, “you kill people. I save them.”

“Oh, yes, get all technical,” I responded smugly, “but when you get right down to it, we’re the same sort of person. We have dreams and we want to do things to the human race. Be it protect it from others or ‘kill people’, as you put it, we’re interfering with something that is not our own. We think of ourselves as Gods.”

“That’s not true,” she blurted out, but I could see her lips quivering. I smiled – it was working. I was a combination of all those before me, but worse. So much worse. “I set out to help people…I’m saving people…”

“But are you doing it because you like the thrill of being a hero and saving them or because you want to feel more important? Feel like someone who they can count on; without you they would be doomed? Do you like to feel like something…more?”

She didn’t need to speak for me to get her answer. Her knees buckled and she began to sob. I cocked the pistol, and fired a single shot, the silencer protecting the sound from rebounding against the empty walls of the car park. I took a cigarette and a lighter out of my pocket, lit it and shoved it into my mouth, breathing out the smoke. Then, and only then, did I smile.

“One hero down, thousands to go.”
Author Comments
I couldn't resist; after watching a few clips of The Dark Knight again (and playing some Arkham Asylum), I had to create my own Joker-like character. I had to.


Pity. [RATED: N/A.] [STYLE: PROSE] [GENRE: HUMOUR]
Hey Jenny,

Remember that song we used to listen to? The one with the girl who moved to NY, and the guy who sent a song to her? What was her name, Delilah? Yeah, I always hated that song.

And remember that time where the cat jumped through the window and got your muffins? And dropped it in a crumpled heap and it crushed on the grass? They were really hot you see, so when I picked it up I threw it out of the window. Thought-of-the-moment thing, though I'm surprised the story worked.

I look at your face still and I try to think about just what made me like you in the first place. Your ugly blonde hair and awful acne, your gruesome smile and never-cleaned teeth. Your seemingly always-broken nose and your re-shaped left ear because of that huge circle you used to wear in your 'lobe. Maybe it was pity? Probably.

Oh, I burnt all the photographs.

Work is a killer, let me tell you. Typically I've been assigned to do the website for that company you work at. I mean, seriously – looking at your face every day brightened by my monitor just makes me want to shoot myself.

Either way, hope you are well.

All my love,
Brian
Author Comments
Well, this piece was a bit of random inspiration. I don't really get it myself - I did earlier, but I forgot. :/ - but you might. So, yeah. >_<