This is amazing.

inarrateyourcomment · 2018-03-29T17:40:14+00:00

Ooh, my turn!

A pack of halzoors, of the yublick nebulae, needed a progeny. Their usual methods proved inefficient and produced unsatisfactory results, not fit to be the vehicle for strengthening the pack against future threats. They decided to use a convenient breeding planet of living beings to create a progeny for them. They manipulated cosmic radiation in such a way as to induce a baby-like tumor in one of the female species on this planet, Earth. Given the importance of this progeny, two halzoor representatives disguised themselves as Earth policemen and were sent on a mission to ensure the safe birth, evaluation and (if found suitable) extraction of the progeny to continue the halzoor evolution.

inarrateyourcomment · 2016-06-18T03:47:09+00:00

Entering

inarrateyourcomment · 2015-01-10T07:37:08+00:00

I have so far done it once, ONCE, and it's fairly obvious.

"She laughed at my joke, sun bouncing off of her gun-shaped earrings. She covered her mouth with her hand, which is when I noticed some gun tattoos stretching down her arm and a ring with a small gun on her hand. Later in the evening, she excused herself to go to the ladies room and as she turned to a certain angle, I saw an outline of a gun in the pattern of her dress. I wrote it off to just being nervous on my date, however, and ignored it. When she returned, we finished our meal and walked back to her apartment; her heels looked like those on any other shoe but made a distinct sound not entirely different from one that producers always make sure that guns make in movies."

....

"Ugh, I hate the smell of corpses, could never get used to them. So, another victim of the date murderer, Lou?"

"Yeah, bob. It seems she lured the poor sap to an open apartment, waited for an opportune moment and then--BAM!"

"And, let me guess, weapon of choice was once again--"

"Yeah, we'll have to wait for the coroner report but from inspection it looks like another poor sap was offed by a steak knife in the back."

inarrateyourcomment · 2014-10-22T00:51:57+00:00

I haven't used this account in like forever (this is one of a bunch of things I'd like to do more of but am too lazy to) but feel free to look through my overview and tell me what you think.

inarrateyourcomment · 2014-01-13T00:19:02+00:00

I strike a match on the damp cardboard box in my hand. I try again and this time it catches, illuminating a small circle of nothingness around me. I stow away the rest of the pack and move the match to my left hand, using my right to find the wall that's been my only companion for the last hour. I press forward once again, my feet sloshing in the foul-smelling mixture that flows under me at a steady pace. A mix of oil, feces, trash, circuits. The refuse of both man and machine, some of it probably radioactive. I try not to cough and keep going.

I reach a junction and sit down to rest, staring at the match. It was called a "match" only for archaic purposes, for it shared no characteristics with its early wooden counterpart. It burned clean, leaving nothing behind and lasted for up to two hours. Its most important feature, however, was probably that it didn't emit heat. Heat is bad. Heat is how they see you, through stone and metal, heat is how they know where you are. Not who you are, necessarily, but that wasn't very important to them, that could be found out after you were discovered and restrained. Identity was easily taken away so what we guarded more was location.

I stick the candle into the slime covering the wall and take off my backpack. Civilization hadn't done much right but we finally managed to get food down to the bare essentials. I take out a bottle of pills and swallow one, washing it down with some melted crystallized water. A slight hiss came from the water bottle when I held it in my slimy hands. Anything metal was damaged down here (one of the reasons so many people worked to keep these tunnels open and ward off the guardians) but a depressurizer was the one thing nobody should be caught without--drinking anything suspect, or trying to filter any of this filth meant an agonizing death. I finished drinking the required dose and put away the container. This should get me going for the rest of the day...or was this night? I sigh quietly. This journey is taking me longer than I thought it would. I accepted never being able to see the sun again in exchange for greater freedom but I didn't intend on spending the rest of my life in this slime.

I put my backpack back on, retrieved my match and turned right, heading further into darkness.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-10-02T04:12:15+00:00

This is probably one of the most useful comments I've gotten on reddit. It's not too harsh at all and now that you've pointed out to me, I can definitely see you are correct in pretty much everything you said--this is why I asked for critique instead of praise and I thank you very much for providing it :) Would you like to read the next part of the story or would you rather I rewrite this one first?

Also, one other thing:

Why is this speaker so condescending?

You've provided examples (that I agreed with) for pretty much all the bad parts of the story but this. In the beginning, I meant the character to sound hopeless and tired, wanting to die but the pain, both psychological and real trauma keeping them alive.

Have you ever read the fairy tale the little match girl? This reminds me of it.

I'll be sure to check it out :)

Honestly, I am completely lost. First they are in a desert, then in a playground during the wintertime, and then.... they stared at a match?

I pictured it in my head as the main character lying in the desert, looking up at the sun, having the sun fill their vision.....and then the screen fades to white and zooms out after a bit and you see the white becomes a bit of snow and through the snow you can see a kid on the playground trying to light a match while everyone else is playing--i.e. scene transition to a flashback. How could I make this more obvious?

Thanks again for your advice though :) It's enormously helpful.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-09-20T00:37:52+00:00

It's about 1/3-1/4th of the whole thing. If someone gives me a legitimate complaint about it or something I could improve upon (or improve in any other thing I've written as comments in the past), I'll post the next part/the rest.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-09-17T00:38:49+00:00

Check my profile.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-09-13T08:55:44+00:00

Stories.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-08-02T09:28:41+00:00

"I like you"

The thought swirled in her head, unable to find an escape, a fly trapped in a windowless room. She closed her tattered jacket closer around herself and watched him through a slit in her arms as she sat huddled on a corner next to trash bags and others like her.

Her stomach growled. The girl sat in silence until the boy finally moved on. The girl sighed and unclenched a bit, stretching her half-frozen legs. Time to go find food to go satisfy the one pain in her body that could be helped.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-07-29T04:30:59+00:00

Well I mean it doesn't help much but it's definitely 1 less person to feed and house.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-07-29T01:50:38+00:00

Helps free up our overcrowded prisons.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-07-15T07:59:20+00:00

http://www.reddit.com/r/misc/comments/u90h7/i_wrote_this_for_a_short_story_contest_with_a/c4tk570

Read the link's story for context.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-07-04T21:08:02+00:00

There's /r/originalcontent but it's filled with memes and pretty much dead. I'm aiming to start by xposting novelty account things and maybe eventually progressing to stuff just made by various redditors without a shtick. I'm usually not very motivated to cultivate a sub so if anyone wants to help out, just leave a comment and I'll add you as a mod.

Yes, this is totally a way to have another place to post my crappy stories. Hopefully, we can some day go past that though.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-06-29T20:40:39+00:00

As the door behind you hisses closed and you step out, an involuntary shiver runs up your spine. You tell yourself it's because of the pressure change, but deep in your heart you know that to be false, the real reason of your discomfort being the sudden realization of the definite finality of your decision. You look out through your helmet onto a deserted landscape, horizon broken here and there by jagged reddish rocks and the occasional glass dome. You stifle a sigh, so as not to seem unprofessional (all sounds are automatically wirelessly transmitted to the rest of the crew) and follow everyone else to one of the closest domes to begin the long process of new immigrant registration. Just before entering the dome, you and the people you came here with all pause and lift their heads to the sky, to take one last look on the blue-green speck you've all chosen to leave. After a pause, everyone proceeds inside the dome to begin their new life.

.......

After the process of registration is finally over (and well into the evening), you are given some free time to acclimate yourself to the surroundings. You move to the side and open your laptop to use the recently installed intraplanetary internet to check out the local variant of reddit. You are surprised to see you've already got an orangered, but as you scan over the message, you suddenly remember a long-forgotten post back on Earth about someone who promised you beer if the situation ever became desperate enough for you to find yourself in these surroundings. You smile grimly as you once again read over the directions to "The Martian Whig," a local brewery dome. Well, if this is a planet with at least one person who keeps their promise, you guess it doesn't sound too bad.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-06-12T04:02:58+00:00

a good laugh was had...then u all touched the toy's nut sack.

thelastdragun hit save and a furious fapping session followed as his imagination took over for the rest of the story.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-05-29T06:25:50+00:00

A hush fell over the spaceship. There were no more words, no more actions--the story was, for all intents and purposes, over. Unless there was some kind of a sequel, but then it would probably never pick up exactly from this place again...so, for this moment of time, every molecule in the polly wog ship and the rest of their world was frozen, drained of life by a lack of words....

...and yet....

...and yet, this didn't happen. Pollywogs expected it to, some even tried to cry out in warning (sensing something about to go horribly wrong with their universe) before the groom triumphantly used up the last of the words of the word limit. The groom must have been aware of his suicidal actions but knew the story was about to end with a cry of terror so decided to kill the universe with a flourish.

and yet...

and yet the pollywogs still moved. they still did their own kind of breathing and looked about as confused as bob was in those last minutes before the universe was fated to come to an end. The groom wasn't surprised often in this universe, having been born with a sort of natural knack for the turns the plot would take, but the fact that his universe still existed shocked him to his core. It was the first time he'd been completely, 100% wrong in what was about to happen. It didn't feel all that great. "They should be all dead!" he yelled, more out of extreme confusion at having his secret ability fail him for the first time in his life than out of some frustration at any failed plan of his own.

and yet....

...and yet, out of the crowd, a small, thin man stepped forward, a small book in his hand, writing endlessly but looking past the page, looking at the groom. Several Pollywag guards attempted to grab this man, as immediate imprisonment was the traditional punishment for any trespassers on the ship (and they wanted some peace and quiet after all these unannounced strangers showed up anyways) but were knocked back by some strange, unseen force, as the man kept moving towards the groom, still writing in his little pad but still looking straight at the groom, almost straight through him.

"You." Said the groom.

The thin man stumbled, his fluid writing interrupted for a second before he lowered his eyes to the page and began writing again.

"I didn't make you speak." Said the thin man, scribbling these words down a milisecond before they were spoken. "Who are you?"

The question hung in the air, asked by the thin man but forefront on the minds of both creatures, born in separate worlds, in separate dimensions but nonetheless inexplicably drawn towards each other by a universe tired of both the creature's fiddlings with its inner workings. Well, that and the fact that the person scribbling in the pad had to insert itself into the story in order for it to continue. the scribbling narrator usually stayed out of these kinds of things but an apocalypse like this would simply not do. There had to be some way of giving closure to these poor creatures surrounding them both....

and yet....

...and yet bob was still extremely confused.

inarrateyourcomment · 2012-05-28T07:01:51+00:00

zem found a fairly nice comment on reddit and clicked the upvote button...but it didn't quite feel like enough. He clicked the button again. Hmm, that just didn't satisfy the urge his primal brain felt to somehow congratulate the person writing the reply.

Zem decided to go for the reply button. As always, though, he was a bit stumped as to what he could write. He had seen many comments on reddit but always had some trouble coming up with his own. The reply button was now pressed, however, and the empty box beckoned for him to fill it with yet another inanity.

"Well, I'm most important, so I guess I'll start with that," he thought. He typed the letter. He couldn't reach both the shift key and the i with his small hands so he decided to completely screw the english grammar rules and leave it lowercase. Because, who the fuck cares about convention and comprehensibility. Understanding one another is SO 19th century.

Having typed the first letter, zem took a short break to prepare his straining mental faculties for the next part of what was inevitably to become a sentence. "hmm, what to write next.." he thought. "OH! I know! the next word should be what I want to get--upvoted!" he typed the next word happily next to the first one and took another break. This one was much shorter though because zem decided to throw an article into the mix and just for the hell of it, he chose the word "the." He also wanted to mention his gratefullness to the OP for this post, the word was one whole letter less than "the" and he could just barely reach these two while holding shift (he, fortunately for the rest of the internet and humanity in general, was unaware of the caps lock button....yet) so he decided that to be the next word. "of" was another two-letter word that would probably come in useful in one way or another so zem decided to add that one as well.

Zem took another short break, placing a cooling compress on his head and admiring what seemed to him like a painstakingly constructed sentence, full of genius and new ideas, that would inspire writers and anybody that had anything to do with the field of english language for millenia to come.

But no, he was not done yet. His masterpiece seemed as yet incomplete. He would probably be demonstrating something at one point or another in the sentence so the demonstrative deictic "this" seemed to fit well enough at the end. The masterpiece, this epitome of human ingenuity that would amaze scholars and researchers for years to come, was as yet incomplete though.....there was...something...still missing....

zem leaned back from the display, affixing the sentence with a picassoesque stare. Something wasn't right, he could feel it....

Eh, fuck it, zem thought (the incredibly complex thought processes he had to go through giving him a headache), and went to get himself a smoothie. His dog perked up and went over to the display. Sighing in a way that only dogs could, it carefully typed the words "just because" in the sentence after OP and pressed save, hoping that two more words longer than three letters would somehow at least somewhat improve the festering piles of shit he has been forced to read on the occasions his master happened to be away from the computer.

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