Ladies and gentlemen... the WrongPlanet writing showcase

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^^^ The captcha thing seems to appear when one wishes to submit a long post. Long PMs have the same result. I had the same issues when I posted the extract from my MS. There's nothing we mods can do about the captcha thing, unfortunately. It may work better using an attachment / link if one has your work on a web hosting site, but if it is just on your PC then it won't work, same as with images.

Schmuppabubba.

It’s the Bubba.

Got the Bubba.

Love the Bubba.

Bubba wants up,

Bubba gets picked up.

Hey, Bubba.

Bubba Boo.

Purr ball.

My little predator.

Kissy Face.

Lap cat.

Little guy.

Loner.

Growler.

Hisser.

Whacko.

Fruppy cat.

Window blind remodeler.

Stalker.

Fetcher.

Schmoozer.

Sweetums-peetums.

Schmupp.

Schmuppie.

Smokey-doke.

Smoke.

The second part of my children's fantasy:



"I'm hungry," announced Rick suddenly.
"So what’s new?” sniffed Moochelle.
“Well I’m also pretty hungry,” added Tommy. “Have you noticed the time?”
“Oh no, I'm sure we left our picnic basket in the clearing,” groaned Vicki.
“No!” moaned Rick.
“Ta-da! None of you remembered the basket except me,” Tommy said. Like a conjuror, he produced their picnic basket from behind a row of controls.
“Yippee,” cried Rick, clapping his hooves.
“I really thought we were stuck up here with nothing to eat,” admitted Vicki.
“I grabbed it before I got into the ship,” Tommy said. “I thought it may rain a long time and we’d have to eat under shelter.”
“Hurray!” said Vicki.
They snacked on cookies, chocolate cake, fresh scones with jam, doughnuts, cheese crackers, cocktail sausages and custard slices while watching the stars go by.
"This is the most exciting place I've ever had a picnic," remarked Rick.
The others agreed.
"Terry is the only one who knows my secret," said Frank. "I've known him since he was a small cub. He had an incurable illness at the time, and I developed the antidote that saved his life. Out of gratitude, his late father left me a large fortune in his will, which I used to buy all this land and also to develop this fantastic machine."

Vicki noticed more lights flashing on and off again on one of the screens, and called her father.
"We're going back in time," Frank exclaimed. "That's what that screen shows!"
"We're in a galaxy called the 'Milky Way," said Vicki, consulting another screen. "A long long way from home!"
"And the controls are still jammed," Frank exclaimed. "I'm trying to fix them; don't worry!" His feathery head bent over the controls again, his glasses on the edge of his beak.
The craft was heading for a blue planet encased in white clouds. The blue looked like oceans, and several large continents could be seen.
"That planet ahead of us is called 'Earth' according to the screen, and the time control is stuck on '1871' said Vicki. "That means we'll be landing there in their year 1871 AD."
"I don't understand a thing about these screens," remarked Moochelle. Her voice was beginning to sound hoarse and her throat was sore. Was her cold getting worse?
"Well I do,” Vicki replied. "I take after my dad – I find science fascinating."
Frank, who had finally managed to regain control of the steering mechanism of the wildly spinning craft, guided it towards a grassy hillside near a river, where it landed with a small bump behind a grove of large trees. They all climbed out to see where they were.

While Frank patiently worked on the controls, the always adventurous Rick asked Tommy to go for a short walk with him. Together they set off down the hillside towards a distant river. All seemed quiet. Not even birds could be heard. Suddenly they heard yelling and thundering hooves, and sneaked into the long grass on the river's edge, where they lay and hid. A group of soldiers dressed in dark blue galloped by on horseback. The leader had a mane of flowing yellow hair. One of the men was holding a flag aloft. They disappeared into the distance, a cloud of dust indicating their progress. Rather shakily, Rick lifted Tommy to his feet and they carried on downstream. After a few hundred metres Tommy gave a yell as he saw first one and then another painted face staring at him through the long grass.
"Who are you?" he gasped through chattering teeth.
"Shhh!" The first face held a finger to its lips.
Tommy passed out with fright and fell, striking his head on a fallen log. Rick, who was about to run, stopped and looked at the strangers.
The two faces emerged from the bushes. One went to the stream and fetched water for Tommy in a leather bag. They splashed his face and then made him drink. He sat up and looked at them in fear.
"I am Red Eagle!" said the first warrior. "This is my brother, Storm Cloud. Don't be afraid! Those soldiers in blue are at war with us. They have killed many of our people and driven them off our land. They're looking for us because we fought back. There's a big reward out for our capture."
"I'm Rick and this is Tommy," Rick replied. "We're from far away!"
“We know,” replied Red Eagle. “We have legends about Space Creatures that come in ships of fire from afar.”
At that moment, they heard hooves again. The soldiers were returning.
"Quick!" said Rick “follow us!"
As silently as the wind, Rick and Tommy raced upwards through the long grass towards the grove of trees with the two warriors at their heels.
"Climb aboard!" panted Rick, when they reached the ship. "You'll be safe here."
As they neared the grove of trees, one of the soldiers suddenly spotted the ship and gave a loud yell. Soon the entire posse was headed for the grove of trees where the ship was. They began shooting at it as Tommy, Rick and the two Indians stumbled up the ladder and clambered aboard, falling over each other in their haste. Frank started the power supply and the ship began buzzing. Several bullets struck the hull of the craft as it took off and rose into the air.
Frank removed his thick glasses from his beak and stared in surprise at the two painted newcomers.
“Who are these?” he asked.
“They were being chased by men on horseback!” said Rick.
“What? Men ride horses there?” Moochelle asked. “Not many of them let people ride them where we come from.”
“Horses don’t speak here,” Red Eagle explained. “But we have a special bond with them and treat all nature as special. Not everyone on our planet does so.”
“Please let’s take these two brave men with us!” Rick pleaded. “Their entire tribe has been killed and they are the only survivors!”
“Very well,” Frank said.
"Oh, no!" he said as he turned his attention to the consoles in front of him. "Now the hyperspace control has jammed. We won't be able to leave this planet's atmosphere until it's fixed. We must find a safe place to land!"
Moochelle tried to respond but found her voice had reduced to a barely audible whisper.
"You must have laryngitis," remarked Vicki. "You should have stayed home today!"
"And missed out on all this?" Moochelle squeaked. “I'd rather be miserable with my friends than all alone in bed!”

Frank guided the ship towards a small tropical island. A strong wind was buffeting the ship and it was difficult to control.
"We're going to land in the sea!" yelled Tommy, clutching Moochelle.
Everyone braced themselves for a water landing, but Frank, with a redoubled effort, managed to reach the beach of the small island where the ship landed with a gentle thud, scraping against the sand.
"Keep close by while I repair the ship," said Frank.
Tommy and Rick went off to pick some luscious looking fruit from a nearby tree, while Moochelle went for a short walk to answer an urgent call of nature. As Rick moved towards the door he tramped on a small gadget, about the size of a cell phone, that was lying on the floor. He picked it up and put it in his pocket.

A few minutes later, Rick and Tommy heard a dreadful commotion. Peering through the trees, they saw a group of brown-skinned men, dressed in feathers and carrying spears. Some of them were chanting in a low voice as they walked. They had captured Moochelle and tied her up. She was unable to shout for help because of her laryngitis. Quick as greased lightning, Rick and Tommy ran and called Vicki, Red Eagle and Storm Cloud, who were standing outside the ship. They silently followed Moochelle's captors along a rough path through tropical forest. They came to a clearing where there was a village of wooden huts, raised on stilts. A high cone-shaped pyre of wood had been constructed in the centre of the clearing.
“What are they saying?” asked Tommy. “What a funny language they're talking!”
The device that Rick picked up earlier, slipped from his pocket as he tried to hide lower in the bushes. Vicki scooped it up at once as though it were a one thousand boodle note.
“I'm so glad you found and brought this, Rick!” she whispered. “My dad lost it! This is a special translator device he invented. It helps him to understand any language in the known galaxy," she added. She placed the gadget in her ear.
“Oh no! They want to sacrifice Moochelle to their gods, as there's been no rain."

Here's a fanfiction I recently wrote and posted on Fanfiction.net and I'd like some honest critique.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11564216/1 ... Fairytales

I do avant garde poetry. Here's something:

New Blue


1.The equation of one part and the whole
2. One part of the one part of the equation
3. The partness




One part of an equation. Is it nothing he said? Did I say something?




The active microcosmic archetype in terms of it's relationship with the active disguised spiritual extroversion self as known in terms of it's place in connection with attunement to the vibrations of the outer cosmic worlds as the domains of the space unknown or reverse collective unconscious, presents mechanisms which in their distance from that which constitutes this alternative idea of the mind, call attention to the need for a construction parallel to the idea of a robot, because the neo myth spectacles have now determined that robotics cannot exist without the idea of the humanoid servant and that this ideal is equivalent to the concept of a robot itself.




Shades of blue formness

The partness

shades of blue

The equation between the part and the equation

shades of blue formness

The seed

shades of blue

The equation, the equationness, the equation part, the equations, the greater equation, and the greater equation network.

Blue shades of blue formness

Blues

That is the blue of

isness and isness




The parallel just mentioned is connected with the alter destiny parallel to online education.




1. One part of a network of networks of equations
2. One, is and an.




Times like these

Forms of blue shade and shade and shade

I don't have any forms

Theres no blue part of it that doesn't have any shade of time




It is time that people recognize that major threshold endeavors in the field of robotics must be put on hold until a model for a parallel to the ideal humanoid machine can be created, otherwise the phenomenon of online education will continue to distract people from focusing on a way of being that acknowledges the need for a quasi robot spirit vessel; A new yet old kind of medium that promotes the alter destiny.




When and where

Is of isness

Formness to blue

Shades

Is that formness of the form?

It didn't get it

Doesn't the blue know




1. One equation of the part and one part of an equation as one part of an equation.
2. The moving equation, the inner and outer back and forth motion, and one equation of the part.




Blobs of blue floating in a bright intensity

A dancing serenity

One part of the one part of the equation

Amazing maze of beauty

A sign of strength, displaced ugliness can be.




And doesn't the knowing blueness see your finding?

Water in a mirror

One part of the one part of the equation

Shades of blue

Formness of blue

Of blue formness

One part of a network of networks of equations.

shades

The equation of one part and the whole.

She knows where the shady blue shades hide

The eyes of water

The equation of part one.

Say….. What did he say? What did he say? Once there was a young man lost in the deserts of Saturn. God came to him in the form of a twin. Through a telegram the young man was called by god to become the god of a new planet. From now on his name would be "Blue Shades Of Blue Formness". God gave him a pair of glasses and told him to put them on. He had many visions of all sorts of people coming out of elevators and getting onto subways. And so he cried and cried until his tears became a space voice. The space voice was the god of a mothership called "At times like these there is a nameless voice".

The iciness of the moaning swallow

Veiled darkness

The blueprint/declaration of one part of the equation

I swallowed my neck

The equation and an equation

shadeness of blue shaded

The other part of the other part

shadedness of

Blue of

shadiness form

The other part and another part.

The space voice taught him how to operate the mothership: "Forms of blue shade and shade and shade, I don't have any forms, Theres no blue part of it that doesn't have any shade of time." The staple of the plan for the creation of a new planet was that Pluto would be rehabilitated, because the sun almost answered no to the question: "Doesn't the blue know? And doesn't the knowing blueness see your finding?" But this course of action was not something ordered by god. Someone from planet Saturn named: "The one you lost who was never there" opposed this plan because of that, But the young man said that there was no god. Only the way of the motherships.

Sounds flow and tears trickle

Distorted glow

The moisture in the blood

A bead of glare

Your form glass said I wasn't for her

A blueprint declaration of the equation.

the question you know

you know

form glass

glasses form

Dark lenses of crying graspness

A blueprint declaration of the equation.

"The one you lost who was never there" responded by attacking the young man's mothership, rendering it immobile. The ship cried and an ocean formed in it's forcefield and out of that a great tree grew. Each branch of the tree was a different plane. Some were forests, some were deserts, some were cities. The Spaceship's fuel became the magma inside the earth. Originally the young man was to become god of the blue planet, but he had been straying from the plans he had been given; he was on his way to the pluto of a virtual solar system. He got the rehabilitation confused with navigation. He began too early in activating the process "how can the true me pretend not to want your affection"? So "the one you lost who was never there" and The greater god would rule the blue planet. "The one you lost who was never there" became a snake and entangled himself in the roots of the tree. The young man woke up when he heard music and left in a ship that had been carried inside the mothership. He destroyed the planet Saturn which reincarnated as Earth's heaven.

The greatest shallow love is better than the loveliest profundity

Real love is worse than the best shallow love

Shades of blue formness

The water was sad. My feelings were blue.

Neon water

Buzzing water

A still mirror

I waved at my wave

Water bed

The water was sad. My feelings were blue.

You can't be cool without wearing sunglasses

Moved by the touched feeling.

The similarity between the different levels of equations, parts, and super equations.

The taste of tears

Slick softness

Roaring softness

Wave of protection

Showering sweetness

Dark lenses of crying graspness

Licking the water

Touching the boundary

Foaming glee

The air is kissed with your breath

The seeing eyes

Smoking brightness.

I drank myself in.

I swallowed my neck

The voice of the mothership became a woman who rode a comet to Neptune. The comet told her that the young man was Seth and would ally himself with "the one you lost who was never there" and God. But she had no way of knowing that this was a bad thing. On Neptune she discovered that people were being recruited to build a Saturn space station, and that seth's mother had killed herself long ago. She then knew that God was not the true Creator. She fought off Neptune's servants of God, and went to Pluto. There she asked her sisters Banshee and Werewolf, to take her place on earth.

I will try to do things that must be done without trying because failure isn't wrong if it leads to victory. that is the real way to lose.

Sadness is more beautiful than you think it is

Evil joy has more to offer than you think it does.

Happiness isn't as bad as you think it is.

Blue formness. There was shades of it.

Your hand channeling your presence

The beautiful terror of non negation

Puppy hatred

Internal night

The part of an equation as a part.

The shades were defined by the formness. It was blue.

The sun's wings, concealed blood, flowing gleam.

A great pink rejoicing.

So many celebrations happening all at once.

giddy terror.

The visions are so blue they look like paint brushes

Rustling clarity

Bustling caution

The other part as the other part.

Franticly thorough affection

The blueprint/declaration as a part of the partness.

Chirping roughness

Disguised tenderness

4/5/6 and 3/2/3/2

They served as midwives, helping the spaceship over and over to give birth to it's voice, while singing a song to the moon: "Times like these, times like these, we say yes to times like these." The moon put a curse on them and they transformed into mermaids, swam into the deep and made love with each other to destroy the curse.

Blue drop part 2

Roads of the wind

The seed of the seed.

Blue shivers

Looking back from the future of the seed's seed.

Liquid pink

In the fields

Shouldn't you be in school? No.

Seed of an imaginary relationship.

Sea of the heart

The other part as part other.

Pool of embarrassment

One equation of the part.

In brown

Hole in the water

One day

One, is and an.

One day

Opening in the air

The partness of one part.

Rolling splash

Name last

Teasing my vulnerability

Mari

The moving equation

Fate In A Pleasant Mood

Moonlight Farewell

Haunted Heart

Jupiter

War With Loneliness

Song Of The Baron

Eternal Darkness

Strain

The Wooden Soldier And The China Doll

Pure White

Mirage

Honey

Dogfight

Blackbird

Honeysuckle Rose

Illusion

Agent

And the inner and outer

Is out walking in the fields

Dotted

Part 3

Back and forth motion.

Of Blue Drop

The double looking back.

With bush clover near school

Music

The fight and the dance.

And as always

One part of an equation as one part of an equation.

Hagino

Music

And some music

They would then unite to become a beam that would bring the mothership voice's lullaby dream back to life. "At times like these how can we ever say no? how can we ever say no? how can we ever say no at times like these?" "Say no to what?" I said. Someone said say no to what he said "say no to what?"

Is with her in the form of a tern

This time

Sitting on her shoulder

Musicness

Writing exercise: military - modern war

It was a slaughter. Helicopter gunships led the assault with rockets and cannons blazing, pounding the flats and monuments that were potential holdouts and vantage points. The occupants were driven out into the open, where they were brought under fire by dismounted infantry advancing behind armored fighting vehicles. Maneuver elements swept across their rear to cut off their escape routes, enfilading alleys, roads, streets with heavy machine gun and automatic grenade fires. Mortars locked down major traffic junctions, denying passage for the defender’s reinforcement. Determined men fought back from the windows, only to meet ghastly reprisals from non-backblast RPGs and thermobaric rockets.

Similar tactics were repeated in every blocks, every districts laid on the main axis of attack of the 48th Mechanized Brigade, 16th Group Army. This is the infantry’s war. Meanwhile, tank guns and long-ranged rocket barrages of the 4th Armoured Brigade echoed in the distant horizon. The smoking sky was intermittently lit up by streams of futile anti-aircraft artillery fires, silhouetting low-flying strike fighters lobbing precision munitions onto the last obstructions standing in the way toward the inevitable encirclement of the once iconic city.

The Capital Defense Command was doomed. Beneath a facade of propaganda-created invincibility, its malnourished and poorly-trained soldiers were only human, liable to be broken and routed under skillful application of the instruments of war. If only the generals who desperately holding onto what remained of their nation’s armed forces inside the pocket could somehow get past the severe cyber-attacks upon their preciously modernized communication network to see the big picture, they would have realized it.

The war correspondent staggered across a thoroughfare littered with broken bricks, struggling to catch up with the mechanized rifle unit he attached to. Momentarily, he caught glimpse of two figures dashing across an opening between the rabbles, and then the tank in front of him detected movement and sent down a 125mm high-explosive shell their way, turning the location into a towering plume of smoke. Hours later, after the dust was settled, he would revisit the scene and find two savaged remains. There was an disemboweled body of an emaciated teenage conscript, stripped nude by the explosion that shredded away his uniform and gears. His crushed helmet provided the only way of identification. A young girl laid not far from him, her white traditional dress remained largely intact. Only the Kalashnikov-pattern rifle in her cold, pale hand told of her past allegiance. He didn’t see what they were then; all he saw in that instant was a sudden, blinding flash, vanishing the two figures like the thousands of other explosions that have been going on and on for days without an apparent end in beleaguered Pyongyang.

writing exercise: bad poetry (but at least there's a forest and a lake in it, a low sensory environment if you like)
PS: my mother language is not english, forgive any mistakes or "wrong language"


In the night I like to go out to the forest,
there I feel at best
when everything is obscured
by mists and by darkness.
A darker, better variant of the world,
a place of unknown beings,
usually very silent,
sometimes appearing at forest clearings;
not because of excitement
it seems to be that they are moving
but it is fear,
of what is before them.
They do not belong to the present,
as they have no engagements.
It appears to me,
they run back to remote ages.
As they are very sensitive,
it seems to be,
they receive the goods and the truths of life
far more easily,
and also might, infinitely better than others,
sense the necessity
to pass it on to their brothers.
Thus was unfolded their comprehension of the world:
good it is only in the right moment
never when it comes second hand.

In the middle of that forest a small lake spreads out
sometimes glowing in the moonlight
sometimes softened by the clouds,
far away from the vast waters of the sea
where it did not want to be.
A gigantic mirror, mildly scattered around,
a place very clear and also very calm.
Not talking, not a sound
as she keeps her thoughts in her most secret realm.
She can see inside me
as I can see myself within her
directly, from the start,
and the words that are usually so lightly spoken
sit upon our hearts.
In these moments of reflection
truth appears to be a living thing;
thus was unfolded her comprehension of the world,
as if she were laughing:
laws of physics only work at daylight
and they do not at night.

bad poetry (part 2), still about that lake
PS: as I cannot see the difference between good and bad, in anything, let me know if content is disappropriate for this thread



There's a girl sitting near the side of the lake,
not quite unappealing
definitely qualified to govern one's feelings.
To see such a girl, a sweetheart,
is ominous of the greatest joys we can find on earth
from a smile, a friendly conversation, and of course
even not excluded: sexual intercourse.
But by her superior will,
representing a strong belief
this particular girl kept sitting still
as if in a prolonged grief
as if that someone would have told
that we should break our attachments to the world.
Thus was her belief:
dreams and thoughts already materialized
formed mountains, rivers, and life
so here's nothing more to be realized,
the only thing left being somebody's wife,
giving birth to someone's son,
being a person allocated to another one.
As such she kept on living her dream,
to protect herself from what was al too real:
in this world no one is interested, no one does care
to impose a special service on her.

Although the phenomenon of "autumn"
concerns not only the human
but the whole cosmos, as birds will demonstrate
flying to the southern states,
the true, inherent meaning of this universe
appears inaccessible only to us.

Christians can rely on the chain of metaphysics
that by some way we can fix this
and entrust in God the transmission of the fruits
that by humans cannot be pursued.
But Modernity, since the late medieval era,
put truth on another level:
that God is nothing separate from our life
that in turn is perceived as divine.
Between the infinite multiciply of choice
I began to hear this voice:
"If you awaken from this illusion
you understand that black implies white,
self implies God,
life implies death."

Material objects are my favourite things
because they cannot talk
because they have no dreams.

Material objects cannot create anything in vain,
they cannot create metaphysics,
they can only create pleasure or pain.

But they say that there is a metaphysical definition of pain,
that real suffering means
that you cannot cling to anything.
And that the only escape is God: His a calm analytical voice,
distancing Himself from pain
distancing Himself from analogy,
a man who does not have any relationship with anything.

He's pretty good.
Despite my brain saying no,
my heart says "wow".

The most diverse suppositions
as to what is to happen in your life
can flash through your brain
"He is going to beg me to come to stay with him"
"The birth of a child"
"The pain"
"He thinks I am to blame"
"I cannot breath"
"She's almost dead"

There is sorrow enough in Nature's way.
I have nothing in demand
than someone else takes over command.

Some believe in human government
triumph of the will
But the authority of God is stronger
as He has no equal.
And if I accept the findings
of modern science
that a timeless Paradise
as it is proclaimed
did not exist
and will never be regained
Let Him come at least one moment
to take over my command.
in a magic moment:
snow falling out of the sky
my eyes wandering back to creation
and ready to die.

I started writing a blog, because I've always loved writing. I'm not sure if it is okay to post it here. If not, just let me know...
http://dianneslife.nl

Sometimes I might post something in Dutch, because that is my language (it will mostly be some kind of attempt to write something 'literature'-like). Other things will be in English.

sure it's okay to write something here
actually who would complain, on this thread, since it's pretty dead /dood
btw goodluck with the blog

D E V O T I O N

At the risk of angering any hard-core Naturalists,
here are some objectives:
"migraines",
"withered roses",
"mental conditions",
"death",
"no-tomorrows".

There is some control by human reason,
human government.
but that is nothing like divine command.
And even if there are arguments not to believe at all
because according to Modernity
this is not just the First,
it is the Second Fall,
at the risk of angering some Atheists
here is an argument
for His most severe opponents:
think of redemption,
as just a special moment.
As traditions tends toward economy,
momentous devotion,
Paradise is nothing more than an epiphany
played in slow motion.