Ladies and gentlemen... the WrongPlanet writing showcase

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(Some of you may have read this poem of mine before on my blog, but here it is again.)

Ice, Misunderstood

How do I love?
The emotions stuck within me!
How do I speak?
You make me at a loss for words, for everything
I can imagine, but my tongue is a curse.
How do I apologize?
You accuse me, with those narrow icy eyes
You stare, but I shy away, inexplicable!
Those three words, they're overused -
How else do I love you?
I plead, but you turn your back, cold;
Silent as a mirror.

Dreams

I had a dream one day which is far more than what I can see,
I want this to come to reality which will satisfy me,
But how is this going be possible when it feels like it’s impossible,
Fighting and fighting and fighting to try to make it possible,
How I’m I going to jump when I see a massive gap,
Then this guy in white gives a big massive clap,
He was just so bright that he gave me a huge fright,
But the words that came out his mouth just sounded so right,
He told me that I should come to make this dream come true,
But I was so afraid that I was hiding from his view,

But I ran because I was just so afraid,

So I ended up trying the things that would end up destroying me,
The people around me didn’t want to be with me,
I was crying for help but there was nobody that will rescue me,
But the things of the past just kept on eating me,
The ones who you thought you love were always there for you,
But it seems that they there to take a huge advantage of you,
The things from this world make it so hard for me to see,
The things from this world make it hard for me to speak,
Then I remember the guy in white that was there just for me,
But why did I ran if he was there to help me,

But I ran because I was just so afraid,

I came back to this place where I saw the man in white,
But he was nowhere to be seen because I couldn’t see the light,
So I cried and cried and cried and I screamed out his name,
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus and he appeared when he heard his name,
I surrendered when I realised I could not do this on my own,
He still welcomed me and he told me that I’m not on my own,
At times he felt he was far and I couldn’t understand why,
He told me he was inside of me so why should I be shy,
Because I was afraid that I couldn’t reach my great biggest dream,
But really I could do it and reach the end of the biggest stream,

I walked, walked and walked,
I stumbled, stumbled and stumbled,
I fell, fell and fell,
He lifted me back on high,

I feared, feared and feared,
I cried, cried and cried,
I doubted, doubted and doubted,
He took these feelings away from me,

There I am, my dream has come true,
I never thought that this day would come true,
I thank Jesus Christ for making this dream come true,
All I can say to you that he can make your dreams come true.

Introducing Mr. Austin.

It always seemed to be raining.
That's what I remember more about the place, it sounds like the biggest cliché ever used, but it's true. A lot of my memories of the time seem far off like they never happened to me, except maybe in dreams, but the rain stays with me. Tangible and definite, I remember the rain. It was raising that night in early October, as I stepped off the train onto the crowded platform, fighting my way past the sodden horde of people, all of whom seemed to have discarded the simple notion of politeness, if they had ever known it, in the rush to access the warm dry confines of the carriage. I clawed my way past two overweight women in tracksuits, each with horrendously large pushchair and matching screaming infant, and they reciprocated by trying to kneecap me on their way past. I didn't need this. All I wanted was to go home,

I waited until the train pulled out of the station, then sat down on one of the uncomfortable semi-melted yellow plastic seats that lined the station, pulling my bag off my left shoulder and setting it down on the seat beside me. After wrestling with the zip for the best part of a minute I managed to coax it open. A further minutes fumbling in the confined of my black rucksack revealed what I was looking for; my last box of cigarettes, slightly worse for wear after being bounced about amongst the various pens, items of cutlery and god knows what else that seemed to have accumulated in there over the past month. the hardback copy of Watchmen wouldn't have helped either, I suppose.

Of course, I couldn't find my lighter. Chances are I left it at the bar. s**t. I hated having to bum lights off of people, but I didn't think I'd be able to wait the walk home, short as it was. s**t. I stood up and looked around. There were two choices; the old guy in the massive coat and sta-prest trousers sitting down the bottom end of the station, or the gang or boys up over the bridge by the ticket machines. I wouldn't say they looked rough or anything more than mildly unpleasant, but experience has taught me to be cautious of anyone who was content to spend their evenings standing in a gang at the nearest bus stop or train station. As I strode towards the old guy I cracked open the cellophane and pulled out a cancer stick, secreting the rest of the pack in on inside pocket.
"Excuse me, have you got a light?" I asked in my best polite non-threatening voice. When you look like I did back then I found it was best to be really nice to people or they tend to run away, or call the cops. The old guy turned to me and shook his head slowly like he was waiting for something bad to happen, for me to pull out a knife.
"Okay, sorry to bother you" I turned and put the cigarette in my mouth away. I imagined him still watching as I walked away, as if whatever imagined threat was still there for him.

I walked the length of the platform cursing the weight of my bad, the weather and people who had the nerve not to smoke in a city with such a high level of air pollution anyway. Instead of turning left and heading for the house I crossed the bridge towards the congregation of under-age winos above the other platform. Their loud voices faded out as I approached them. Again I used politeness, but this time my reason for doing so was because there were six of them and I wanted to leave with all my limbs.
"Excuse me lads, got a light?" I adjusted the request slightly, so as not to provoke a class-related response from the mob. Call me paranoid, but I had made that mistake once before and ended up in casualty getting my forehead sewn back together. Never say 'please' in Wallsend near a pub at chucking out time.
"Here Mr" said the tallest. I'd have said he had a good few inches of height over me, but was thin. He stuffed a dirty hand into his jacket pocket, and came out with a five-for-a-pound lighter. He sparked up, and I took my cigarette to my mouth and lent in to light it. I thanked the boy and took a long draw, savouring the experience as the smoke tickled the inside of my mouth. Again I turned and walked away, but this time satisfied I stopped briefly to pull my coat tightly around me, and stepped off the station into the now torrential downpour.

It went out. The rain got so heavy that it put the damn cigarette out. In the absence of lighter, matches, tinderbox, two sticks or a thunderbolt from god I was planning to chain. I swore under my breath, and stopped under an overhanging tree outside the churchyard. It was dark already, and the place looked scary in the same way that Hammer Horror scared me as a kid, only this was with better visual quality, like the difference between BBC1 and CubanTV. I stayed put for a minute or two just staring at the Neo-Gothic church and it's attendant collection of tombstones, ranging from small to large, from black marble obelisks to twee little white stone teddy-bears with massive manically happy eyes. What's wrong with this picture? A society based upon veneration and respect for the dead, except for the young who get patronised even in death. Do the under-fives get to travel the River Styx for free, or even half fare?

I shivered as a gust of wind blew through me, simultaneously knocking a massive drop of icy rainwater off a leaf and right down the back of my neck. If I wasn't so cultured and polite I would have sworn. Ah what the hell.
"f**k!" I exclaimed to no-one in particular, but the elderly lady I hadn't seen walking on the opposite pavement contrived to look at me like I'd just shot her dog. I thought I'd better move on. I gathered my coat around me once more and trudged on into the dusk.

Five minutes later I was unlocking my front door and stepping into the house I'd been calling 'home' for the past two years...or sometimes 'fuckpig or 'house of ass' depending on my mood or how many times the central heating had packed-up that week. I stood there creating a small puddle on the doormat for a moment, and then took off my coat. I discarded it in a corner as I kicked off my shoes and slowly climbed the stairs, removing my drenched silk shirt and sodden jeans. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom I attempted to dry myself off as I headed off to what the landlord had somewhat optimistically called the 'master bedroom'. Unhooking my dressing gown from the back of the door I stalked across the room to the big 1970's TV I had inherited from my grandmother, turned on the news, and flopped back into the dirty beige recliner I had rescued from a bonfire in 1998 and never cleaned. I didn't bother with the light these days. I generally found my way around the room okay in the dark, caused problems when house guests came over though.

After ten minutes of Arab-Israeli conflict, US presidential elections and Nationalist tendencies dressed up as sport, I remembered myself. Hauling my unwilling frame from out the chair I crossed to the liquor cabinet and poured myself a glass of sherry. Next I pulled the lid off the tub of fish food sprinkling a few flakes into the bowl housing my pets; two bog-standard nothing-special goldfish called Houseplant and Richie Mills. I say nothing special, but sometimes you need to talk to someone who won't give you stupid advice, and these guys fitted the bill perfectly.

I knocked back the glass of sherry, slammed the empty glass down on the cabinet and took the bottle back to my chair, taking a detour to change the channel on the TV. I settled for some unnamed action film, the kind where the script would fit on the back of a postcard and be just as flimsy, but it's made up for the sheer stupidity and cheesiness of the whole thing. I leaned back heavily on the chair, swigging from the heavy green bottle, and soon I drifted into a heavy sleep, numbed by the sound of big explosions and all the time cursing the name of Marco Kumiai.

Literary cliché number two; I was woken god knows how much later by the sound of the phone ringing downstairs. Blearily I righted myself, climbed out of the chair and stumbled out of the door heading for the stairs, in fact almost going head first down those stairs. I picked up the receiver and said "Ackk?" I took the handset away from my mouth while I came up with a truly Olympic hacking fit, desperately trying to dislodge whatever it was in my throat. When it came out it was an interesting luminous shade of green. I tried again
"Hello?" said an anxious voice on the other end of the line. I tried to answer
"Yes?" I inquired in a voice that wouldn't have sounded out of place coming from one of Sergio Leone's better characters. Right then I could have had my own voice removed and badly dubbed back in a foreign language and I wouldn't have noticed. It would however have scared whoever it was on the other end of the line.
"Mr. Autstin?" said Nervous Voice Man. The voice set off warning bells, I realised who it was; the landlord.
"Hi there!" I replied with as much false cheese as I could, which isn't a lot when you've just woken up.
"How can I help you Mr. Crow?"
"Have you forgotten, Mr. Austin? Rent is due" said the phone. I noticed how assured, positively smug, the bastard had suddenly become now that he had the upper-hand, the control over the situation.
It was hardly surprising. I'd been consistently late with the rent for about a year and six months now. We both knew it. Ever since my parents had pulled the plug on my last little adventure and stopped funding me, it had become difficult to keep up to date with the rent, but I always came good with the rent in the end. So I mumbled some lame excuse down the wire, which seemed to temporarily sate his desire for my non-existent money. I clumsily put the phone down and tried to summon up the energy to get back up stairs. I managed to get half way up the wooden hill before deciding to go to the kitchen and get some kind of rudimentary snack. This time I cursed myself, like I tend to when I get half way to somewhere before realising I was about to do something completely different. I've never found out whether anyone else does this, but I did it before and I still do it now, it's nice to know some things don't change.

My Other Half

All these years I've been waiting for this day,
Someone that I would be happy; up until today,
All these years I've been wondering, who is the one,
Looks like that I've found her, God told me she is the one,
All these years I've been missing a part, the one that becomes one flesh,
She has always been the one that always makes me fresh,
All these years I've been searching but I couldn't find my love,
She showed up by surprise who showed me how to love just like a dove,

I thought she would be like everyone else who has left me because of their lust,
I thought she would be like everyone else who has left me because I wasn't worth a thing,
I thought she would be like everyone else who has left me because I was too different,
I thought she would be like everyone else who has left me because of the money,

But she was different,

She wasn't the type that would be with one and jump to another,
She wasn't the type that thinks I'm worth nothing,
She wasn't the type that would take advantage because I was too different,
She wasn't the type that would love me just because of the money,

But she was different,

I think to myself; why didn't she leave me when I made many mistakes,
Why did she not leave me when I'm not like anybody else,
Why did she not leave me when I'm nothing like a millionaire,
Why did she not leave me when I'm not worth anything,

But she was different,

She knew God, she knew love and she has his heart,
It all makes sense to me now, she really is different,

She loves me and I love her.

Pretending to be normal

I'm trying
to check everything;
hair (ok)
clothes (slightly smelly)
behavior (don't know yet)
my mind
going from disaster
to disaster:
what if
I say something wrong?
I do something wrong?
I get a panic attac?
my stomach acts up?
I start coughing?
I bump into someone?
I spill something?

I love
going to the theatre
or opera
but hate
the expectations
my mother
always nagging
always finding flaws

so I do my best
to prepare myself
to hide
behind a mask
act right
smile right
be right
pretending
to be
someone else
pretending
to be
normal

scubasteve, I love your poems. I use almost the exact same rhyme scheme and meter!

I might post my own poetry if I ever work up the courage.

Hey guys. This is my first post on the thread. Let me know what you think.

Clock-Broken

She broke the clock,
When she left and slammed the door,
It cracked like a fault line,
When it landed on the floor,
Since then,
I haven’t told the time,
And time has told me nothing,
Of nature’s passing rhyme,
It sits so silent,
With broken hands,
No dusty old books,
Reveal which tools will fit to mend,

Like a menace rolling on,
Towards its end,
Time slithers around the bend,
And I am barely holding on,
My grasp on when depends,
On just the light that hits the lens,

I asked her,
To put it in her pack,
Take my time piece over sky and sea,
Safely on her back,
And she could whisper out the time,
It could climb up to the moon,
So I could see it in the shine,
But she left it,
For she was unaware,
It wouldn’t work without her near it,

This is my first posted story.
I don't know if it is good or bad, or if my writings in general are good or bad.
I don't have any idea yet for an title.
The story takes place in my own invented world.
I had the problem that I'm not a native english speaker.
Pleas ignore or correct my mistakes.

???

Part one:

It was winter. The air was cold and fresh. On the light blue sky where a few small clouds. It was in the late morning.
The landscape was full of small and flat hills, and between them small villages with fields and gardens. They were protected by some wooden forts.
There was a long stone road. But on a hill was a bigger town with many small grey houses. In the middle of the town was a large but not so high (without many towers), ugly fortress like in many towns of the sea peoples, to protect the city.
The town had only a small wall around it. But the streets where crowded with inhabitants, traders and soldiers, with persons from the sea peoples and with the oppressed Jardenians.
Some black riders, the elite cavalry of the realms of the sea peoples rode to the huge fortress.
In the town where many construction sites.
For example next to the small palace, many workers builded some outbuildings for the new government of the realm.
Place was raw in this town. With the growing of the influence the population grows very quickly.
Before the walls were also some new city quarters. But there only poor persons lived in some quick built huts.
This was the city of Oldeneor.

Vandalend was exited. He had the order go to the residence. On his left and on his right was a guard with a black helmet and a spear made from black wood.
He was frightened. Had he done anything wrong? He worked only at the administration of the fortress. What was so important?
Before him was the gate of the residence. The gate was decorated with some wood carvings which show black foxes, one typical animal of the area of Avalia.
The soldiers at the gate saw the guards and opened the gate.
Inside the corridors of the palace where many administration officers.
Even then years ago there was not enough place for the administration. But under the government of Pojila it was horrible crowded.
So some other administration buildings where built quickly. (sad for the house owners and the inhabitants who had to search new ones)
The guards opened another door.

There was a medium large and simple room (without any decorations). On the room where four elite guards with black helmets and blue coats. At this moment the two other guards leaved the room.
In the room was only one desk and before it one chair. On the other side of the room there was another door. This was the working room (of course not the official representation hall) of the ruler.

On the chair was Pojila, he was getting older. In his face where wrinkles and his eyes where looking worried.
His coat was grey and he had three signet rings on his fingers.
Each for one of his Archarchenrealm (Archarch is the title of the leader of one of the splitted realms of the sea peoples).
Vandalend bows he spoke: “What do you want from me, Pojila Archarch and unifier from Argaldis, Muldur and Ornor?”
Pojila spoke: “I had a very important mission for you. Don’t be frightened. I have heard that you are one of the best workers in the fortress administration. I heard that I can trust you, and that you are good on writing texts.”
“Yes that is right, but what should I do?” asked Vandalend.

Pojila answered: “I want to write down the history of my live and my attempts to reunite our nation. I don’t want that this could be lost forever. Now this is your job.”
Vandalend thought some seconds, then he spoke: “I could try it. I need only a chair, a desk and (Pergament) and something to write.”
So Pojila answered: “Good, it is all prepaired.”

Two guards opened the door on the backside of the room and carried a small desk with parchment and a chair into the room.
Pojila noticed: “In some few months it is decided, if I have success or failure.”
Vandalend spoke:”But you had so much success in the past, why not in the future?”
Pojila needn’t much time to think about an answer:”Yes, I had success in the past, but that was because nobody thought that I could have success, now some things changed and it is other. I had many enemies and no heir (this was a lie).”
Than Pojila was silent for some seconds: “Do you know the tariotese tale of the fall of the Pachalitower?”
“No, I don’t know anything about the Tariot answered Vandalend.
“I heard this tale in the big war” continued Pojila “The Tariot who are the leading the people of Entiladon (This was the enemy in the big war), had at the past a big realm far away in the east. On the western border was a big fortress with a huge and high tower. This fortress was under siege by barbarians and orks. The commander of the fortress knew that the situation was hopless. He gave an order to somebody who was able to write, to write down the last weeks of the fortress, that their heroic resistance don’t get lost for their descendants.”
Vandalend thought, he don’t know why Pojila knews Tariot tales.
He spoke: “But we are not in a hopeless situation.”
Pojila answered: “Yes, we had a great chance, but when my tries to reunite our nation failure, the next war with Entiladon would be only a question of time. If I failed, the future of our people would be lost. So I don’t want that the reasons for my success or failure get lost for our descendants.
So now I want to start to tell you the story of my life. Are you ready?"

Sorry for what I wrote, I didn't mean to belittle you. It was a good story.

This is the first of my poetic failures that I will be posting here:

"I will Never", when I was suffering from a rough patch a few years ago.

I will never give in; You have not the resolve.
Turn your hatred inward, you’ve your own problems to solve.
I will never give up, for this is my time.
Beat me up bloody, shower me with grime.
I will never “repent”; your words have their flaws,
And I will not be lorded over by your invisible laws.
I will never perish, no matter what attacks you try,
Strike me physically, mentally, I will do naught but cry.
I will never shut down, for I cannot be switched off,
I do not envy you, or your capability for Sloth,
I will never let go, I will grasp, claw, with both hands,
For within the confines of my mind, I glimpse foreign lands.
I will never lose faith, a veritable faith of my own,
A faith in myself, from the travails I have been shown,
I will never sink low, cannot, will not sink lower than you,
For I could never imagine myself doing what you currently do.
I will never grow dim, for I have elected to shine,
A glamer, a thought, a way, that shall always be mine.
I will never break down, I will follow my dream,
Even as you, the world, attempt to tear me apart
Seam by seam.

^ I like it. It seems heartfelt, and I think portrays a very healthy attitude. Thank you for sharing.

And Dan, I really like yours as well. The broken clock metaphor is poignant and captivating.

I've enjoyed reading all of the short stories here as well... I think I will try writing one when I'm done with finals. I have an idea in mind.

I stand now on the shore with the letter in my hand.
Can’t you see how wide this ocean is?
The widest I have seen.
You send me this bedraggled epistle from somewhere mediterranean,
With different clocks and calendars, and a different sea.
You say it is like wine, and everything is white,
Sun-baked, sun-bleached white like cattle’s skulls
Or like the empty wrecked hulls of crabs that founder at my toes.
Why must you ask?

I don’t even know how your letters get here.
You send them in bottles and the beaks of scrawny gulls.
You say that your gulls are fat and white, preening, screaming white.
I don’t write back. In my country there are no pens, you know,
And the envelopes fall apart if you look at them.
I teach my songs to the trees, who are better listeners
Before being pulped and milled. You say
Your trees grow back. Mine do not.
Why do you still ask?

I don’t even know what I would say in reply.
You tell me how all things for you are in their places and their sizes:
Beaches as long as you feel like walking on, and white,
Like the ocean’s washing laid out to dry, pure of wine-stains,
Roads that last as long as your favorite song,
That always end at home, or never do.
I read these lines in the poxy shadow of impractical bluffs, too steep to scale,
That drool narcolepticly into seedy crevasses
Deep enough to break your soul, but not your neck.
And why must you still ask?

Why must you assume the features on this rocky face,
Bigger and wiser than you, were raised to smile on you, or me?
Even gods are chiaroscurists. None ever stooped to a perfunctory spot.
I don’t know what I would have to look at from where you stand. I might
Track dirt onto your white bones, or worse,
They might track whiteness onto me.
I am corseted by beauty like a habitual consumptive.
When I climb to my summit I look down on forests nourished by my blood,
Tangled like living hair. I have clung on even though I have no fingernails.
I have torn my heart to shreds on this cheap volcanic stucco.
And still your insipid concern insists

Come to me.
Accept this exit visa,
These tokens of our
Gratitude
For your
Effort.
It was
Admirable.

This is the second part of my story.
Like in the first part I had the problem that I'm not a native english speaker.
Pleas ignore or correct my mistakes.
I do not feel offended or reduced if there is critisism about my English (I know that my English is bad).
I decided to write in English because I want to improve my English.

Part two:

Then Pojila spoke for a long time:
“I was born in the year 159 of our time or in Entiladon in 792 in the village of Damvalek.
My mother had the name Nabesveni, and my father was Zarzarias. Both come from the city of Duria nada, once our capital and still the biggest town of our nation, but under the control of the Archarch Orjeinal. Duria nada is the capital of Algonar.
Still some distant relatives are living there. My father was an unimportant officer. My parents hate the big town. So my dad got in 155 a position at a small military outpost near Damvalek.

They saved some money and built a small and beautiful white house at the edge of the village next to some beautiful ancient trees.
The Asilonians, one of the peoples of the Jardenians which live in central Avalia thought that this trees where holy. Some of them lived also in the village. Damvalek was really unimportant. But there was one think of that the habitants where proud.
The fishes of a small lake next to the village where served at the table of the Archen, the ruler at the time when our nation was united. I for myself hate fish.

I was born in a beautiful year. Some years after that I good a little sister. My childhood was great.
But my father knows very early that war was coming. Yes many weapons were made in this time. The son of the old and peaceful Archen Zanzil, Akal was an expansionist. He dreamed to conquer new lands on the other side of the mountains. Yes we have enough land for a powerful realm. Yes we had the control about the high mountains at the eastern border and a huge fortress at the only mountain pass.
Akal convinded his dad to try to conquer the free people at the border. But before the war started, they joined the duchy of Entiladon to get protection. Entiladon had an alliance with the realm of Utal, the elves of the Kuorforest and with the high king of the dwarfs. All these nations where frightened about the realm of the seapeoples.

We had only one ally. The dwarvis king Gloren trade with us. He noticed one century ago, that we nead iron for weapons for our wars. He good rich with this trade, but with the time more and more disagreements with the high king of the dwarfs.
Today, we see the results of our expansionism but in the past we where so convinced about the force of our people that we spoke about us in plural “the seapeoples”. Today we see also the disadvantages about suppressing of other people. For example the Maatilrebellion in Algonar.

Archen Zanzil died and Archen Akal go the black crown. At this time I was too young for being interested in politics. I was an intelligent young child, but I was not good at sports.
My father was optimistic about the next war, like so many of us. Then Akal gave the order to gather the troops. He, his guards and the black riders marched from the capital on the big street to the passfortress. On every town some new forces joined to the army. It was the biggest army of our nation in history. The hole nation was optimistic. Akal was tall, he wore a silver mantle and in his hand was a black sword with golden decorations. The black crown was on his head.
My father had the command over twenty spearmans . He joined also the big army. I was very sad when my father leaved our beautiful small house. He would never return. It was the year 167.
First we thought that our optimism was right, we got not so much news, but every two months my father wrote a letter. My mother, my sister and I were looking forward to new letters. We were frightened about my dad because the first battles were very cruel. The army of Entiladon was destroyed in a big battle, the duke was dead. His son tried to defend his capital which was under siege for a long time by our forces.

Also the dwarfes of King Gloren fought some victories in a civil war against the other dwarves. It was fundamental important to get iron from Gloren for new weapons. But at the hole war the trade routs where safe.
The armies of the allies of Entiladon where not ready for a war, or had some local conflicts with some orcs.
Than the city of Entiladon was conquered by our forces. The city burned down in one night after a long siege. Also the new duke died. The brother of the first duke escaped and tried to build an resistance around the castle of Ekalon. The two excellent swords of the two dukes were carried in triumph to Duria nada. The population of the town of Entiladon was gathered in some camps in the occupied lands.
At a hard winter the war stopped for a short time. But the armies of the allies arrived. In the spring of the year 169 our army lost a battle, but Akal escaped. Our nation had the resources for a new army. In the following four years, the war was very hard. Large parts of the realm of Entiladon where destroyed. But we don’t destroyed their resistance. Also slowly our economy got some problems. We had not enough workers and the trade declined.

But then in 175 Akal decided to start a big offensive. He made a terrible decision. Many persons where forced to join the army. Even to young persons. I was only 16 when this recruitment started. A recruitment officer choose me for the army. My mother was shocked, but she was still optimistic about the war.
She said to me that I should help to finish this war quickly, because she hopped that than the supply situation would become better.
I was choosen for a company which guarded one of the camps with the inhabitants of Entiladon.
I walked with twenty other young recruits to the passfortress. I saw the big mountains for the first time of my life. It was fantastic to see a sunrise behind the mountains. When I saw the mountains I understand that this is a natural protection of our nation. We were trained at the fortress and then we marched into the border region of Entiladon. The street was full with injured persons, which were walking into the other direction.
Then my childhood was finished.

Had you written everything down?”

“Yes of course” answered Vandalend.
Pojila said also “In a few days, I want to tell you my experience in the big war. Also everything what I'm telling to you is a secret. This is an order.”His voice was hoarse, because he talked a lot.
Vandalend said: “Yes” and leaved the room and the palace.

(I think the history will be very long. I do not want to inundate this thread with my story. Maybe I could open a special thread for it. In the next week I can't visit wp, so I could post part 3 only after the next week)

^ Aelfwine, your story is getting really interesting. I was intrigued by the history of the wars that Oldeneor fought and I'm looking forward to reading part 3 if you post it.

minotaurheadcheese, your poem is excellent! It's really dreamlike. My favourite line is "Roads that last as long as your favourite song"

LunaticOnTheGrass, I always think it's amazing when people can make their poems rhyme and still make sense because I can't. You can really feel the passion and defiance in your poem.

Here is a Doctor Who/Calvin and Hobbes fanfiction I wrote earlier this year. I hope you enjoy it:



Calvin and Hobbes came crashing down the stairs.

"No school! No homework! It's Saturday!"

Calvin at three bowls of chocolate frosted sugar bombs, got dressed, and he and Hobbes went outside in search of fun. They terrorised Suzie Derkins by invading her tea party with water balloons and then they rode Calvin's wagon into the woods behind Calvin's house. Calvin eventually crashed the wagon, blaming it on Hobbes's steering and they got into a fight, which both claimed to have won, which caused another fight. They walked on through the forest and Calvin started talking about school.

"I don't really get on with the other kids, they don't see my point of view, and that dumb Moe always makes me give him my lunch money."

"Have you discussed the matter with your parents?" said Hobbes.

"They just tell me "Don't play where Moe is playing." As if that'll work." said Calvin, kicking a stone.

"We tigers are the apex predators of the jungle, so bullying is not something we worry about." said Hobbes with an air of pride.

"Some help that is." said Calvin.

He did a double take. "Hey what's that?"

There was a blue box in the middle of the forest. Its presence was incongruous with its surroundings. Calvin and Hobbes walked up to and around it.

"What do you think it is?" said Calvin.

"It says here "Police Public Call Box" so maybe they're cops." said Hobbes.

"Cool!" said Calvin. "Maybe they're hunting criminals or something!"

The door of the box opened and out stepped a young man with wild hair wearing black jeans, boots, red braces, a shirt and tweed blazer and a bow tie.

"Hello!" he said. "I'm the Doctor! Would you mind holding this?"

At this he thrust a glowing sphere into Calvin's hands. The round object was roughly the size of a football and kept changing colour; from green to red to blue to turquoise to white and back to red again.

"This is an alternate universe in which the Roman Empire never fell." said the Doctor.
"I won it in a game of live chess. Bigger on the inside, you see."

Calvin stared up at the Doctor. "Are you…are you an alien?"

"Not so loud!" The Doctor put his hands on Calvin's shoulders.

"To answer your question; yes I am an alien and I'd appreciate it if you kept it quiet. All I want is a bit of a rest and I won't get that if the FBI surround us with cars and helicopters and pointy things that go "fzzzwssshhhh"."

The Doctor seemed to turn in on himself. "Humans with advanced technology; always a tricky one."

"If you're an alien can you take Hobbes and I to another planet?" said Calvin, his eyes gleaming.

"I could," said the Doctor. "but the old girl's having a rest today, same as me. That doesn't mean we can't have fun, though."

"Do you know how to play Calvinball?" said Calvin.

"I don't but I'm fairly certain it's going to be brilliant." said the Doctor.

For the next two hours Calvin and Hobbes and the Doctor played Calvinball. The Doctor was a fast learner, picking up as he did the only rule which was to make the rules up as you went. The Doctor invented the rule that sonic screwdrivers could be used to quintuple the number of points scored but Calvin eventually won after inventing the rule that all players wearing bow ties had to remove them or forfeit the game. The Doctor had refused to take off his bow tie so Calvin had won.

"Listen Doctor can I talk to you about something?" said Calvin.

"I'm all ears." said the Doctor. "Well not literally but go on."

"I have these problems at school; there's this big kid Moe who beats me up for money and the other kids don't see things the way I do."

"Sounds familiar." The Doctor chewed his bottom lip. "Just remember, there's a universe of infinite majesty and wonder just waiting for you to discover it, and I don't just mean space travel. Every person contains untold wonders within them, you just have to keep an open mind and not let little things like rules and reality get in the way. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yeah." said Calvin.

The Doctor smiled. "Righto, must dash, thanks for the game, it was the most fun I've had in ages."

His eyes twinkled. "See you around."

With that he went inside the blue box and shut the door. Soon there was a huge whooshing and grinding sound and the box began to fade in and out until it was gone.

"What a nice individual." said Hobbes.

There was a pause, and then Calvin said "Let's go look for weird bugs!"

The two friends hurried away to enjoy their weekend.

Thanks, DominictheStampede; your comments are much appreciated. I enjoyed your story IMO you did quite a good job of replicating the personality of the characters. I hate pointless fanfic where the characters sound/act nothing like themselves

Wake Up

Wake up, the sun is shining and the dark skies are turning into bright skies,
Wake up, for this is the next day and what happened yesterday is for what happened yesterday,
Wake up, for start of a new chapter, for the chapter has gone past, its time to flick a new page,
Wake up, for the light is here and the dark is no more, I am here to show you the way.

The sun is rising shining over the dark, don't let the dogs try to eat you like a shark,
Most of you are asleep when the earth is having pains, time to wake up before the whole earth rains,
The ones that's awake are the ones to wake you up, you can either take your torch or you sleep it right down,
The sun has now risen and its now time for harvest, the plants that's still asleep are the plants that is missing out, the plants that are awake are the plants with satisfaction.