BenCrucifix, The Contributor
I made a story on here once.
I plan on doing so again.
I mean its been over a year since my last one and I've written about two pages of the next one, so that's progress right?
The world has been ruled with an iron grip by the evil Lord Enigma for centuries. Hidden within the impenetrable fortress of Castle Conundrum, he is all but undefeatable.
But you are an adventurer, and it is your job to defeat evil overlords, no matter what the odds.
Can you puzzle your way through Castle Conundrum and defeat the evil Lord Enigma?
An entry for the Riddles & Puzzles competition 2016.
Overall Winner: Riddles & Puzzles 2016
Port Paradise, the legendary city of pirates. It is here that you were born and raised, and here that you now seek your fame and fortune. Will you become a legendary pirate lord? Or just another corpse in a back alley, like so many before?
Recent PostsShort Writing Prompt on 7/7/2017 5:03:55 PM
Jason sniffed the air. The rain had a strange smell tonight, a sort of tangy, almost rusty smell which sent a shiver down his spine. Cemeteries creeped him out at the best of times, and the looming storm clouds didn’t make things any better.
He wasn’t even really sure why he was in the cemetery. His tinder date hadn’t explained why she wanted to meet him there, but she was hot so he’d gone anyway. In all honesty he was surprised he’d even managed to get the date. His attempted pun about how he preferred a deaf prune over a blind date hadn’t gone down very well.
He looked around. She’d said he would be able to find her by the neon blue skirt, but he couldn’t see any skirts at all. The cemetery was empty.
But then he spotted a light shining out from between two trees, and headed towards it in the hope she might be there. He hurried over, and then stopped in surprise when he saw the source of the light. A small pool of lava sat in the middle of this small grove of trees, surrounded by a group of people dressed in dark cowls.
He backed away slightly, only to realise someone was standing behind him.
“Oh dark Lord!” The person yelled. “We have brought a sacrifice for the fire! Beelzebub come forth!”
Jason felt a hard shove in his back, and found himself falling into the pit.
BZ's Summer Slam Contest! on 7/3/2017 10:47:07 AM
Put me down for a bet 125 please.
Poetry Prompts - Week 10 on 6/27/2017 1:59:26 PM
A while ago my girlfriend said to me "Hey, you write stuff, how come you've never written me a story or a poem or anything?"
So I went away and came back with what I told her was a deep and meaningful poem right from the heart, that really summed up exactly how I felt about her. For some reason she wasn't too happy with it though.
There once was a girl called Katie,
And she is my best matey,
I love her to bits
She's got gorgeous tits
And ten out of ten's what I rate ye.
Week of Literature: El the second one on 6/23/2017 10:22:04 AM
It was meant to be a reference to the Sopranos, which ends mid sentence.
Week of Literature: El the second one on 6/23/2017 9:56:14 AM
I haven't been on the forums much recently (or at all tbh), but thought I'd try my hand at prompt 1.
The Predator alien sat uncomfortably at the bar, pulling at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t like tuxedos, much preferring his body armour, but the new Predator mafia syndicate demanded a strict dress code. It didn’t make much sense to him, but rules are rules. He pulled at the collar of his shirt again.
“Hey look, it’s Johnny two times!” announced a grating voice. A tall Yautja swaggered over and sat on the bar stool next to him. “I’m sorry to say Johnny, but I heard the boss is somewhat displeased with your service.” He leaned in closer. “How many times you gonna fuck up Johnny. That’s twice now that you cost the family its money. Perhaps I should send Don Sain’ja your head. I’m sure he’ll reward me well.”
“Fuck off Paulie,” said Johnny.
“What was that?” asked Paulie, a grin on his face. “Is little Johnny two times gonna get angry with me?”
“Fuck off Paulie,” said Johnny again, louder this time. He necked the two shots on the bar in front of him, and then stood up and drew the two swords he had at his waist.
“Whoah there buddy,” said Paulie, an amused grin on his face. “We’ve left those ways behind remember? You gotta use a tommy gun, like the one big Tony has.” He gestured at the other large Yautja that stood behind him, tommy gun in hand.
Johnny growled, and looked around the bar. There were several mafia members sat around, all ready to leap to Paulie’s aid should a fight begin. He growled again. Several hands moved to guns, ready to fire in a moment’s notice.
But before the fight could begin, a massive human walked in through the bar door and said, in a monotone voice that should never have been used in anything other than an action film, “I’m back.”
Paulie looked over. “Hey, is that Arnold Schw
Sword of Truth series. on 2/19/2017 6:12:09 PM
I think I've still got them kicking around somewhere, I might have to find them so I can have another go and give them a proper read through at some point.
Sword of Truth series. on 2/19/2017 4:41:57 PM
I read the first few a couple of years ago. I quite enjoyed them from what I remember, but I was a teen at the time so I was probably more interested in the sex scenes than the capitalism/ socialism conflict.
EndMaster’s Edgelord Contest on 2/19/2017 4:30:42 PM
Ed was a peculiar fellow. He lived in a house on the edge of a cliff, on the edge of a nearby town, which was itself on the edge of the nearest city. His house was as peculiar as its owner, with lots of protruding edges that appeared to serve no purpose other than some sort of weird aesthetic. The inside of the house was no different, with many random outcroppings of floor, wall and ceiling, all with lots sharp edges.
This made it a dangerous house to move about in, and was the reason that Ed only moved around along the edges of the rooms, if it wasn’t for the fact that he preferred to move along the edges anyway.
Ed himself appeared rather edgy, with a sharp jawline, and cutting blue eyes. The way he dressed could be considered ‘edgy’; all blacks and dark purples. His leather jackets and trousers had lots of metal buckles, all of which had unnecessarily sharp edges. He always carried a knife, and a whetstone to sharpen its edge. He also tended to carry a large supply of plasters.
Some might consider Ed to have what could be called an unhealthy obsession with edges. He did not wash in a way that most would consider normal, but instead sat on the edge of the bath and washed individual body parts separately. When he ate, he would perch on the edge of his seat, his food all placed on the edge of a plate that was positioned precariously on the edge of the table.
Today was a usual day for Ed. He had got up, had breakfast, cleaned breakfast of off the floor, and the proceeded to plan the costs of shooting up the local school. He had then thrown darts at a picture of his parents, watched an episode of Glee, and was now having a relaxing session of cutting himself whilst thinking of all the different ways he could blame his problems on society.
Glancing out the edge of his window he saw a van pull up at the edge of his property. Fear flooded through him as he saw the people jump out of it. It was the people in coats that wanted to hide him away in the white room with no edges again. He sidled along the edge of the room and out the front door, and then ran around the edge of the house, dodging any dangerous protrusions, the mental hospital workers chasing after them.
Behind his house was the cliff, and he ran to the edge. “You can’t take my edges from me,” he yelled at them. “I am the edgelord, and I shall never be taken alive!” He plunged his knife into his chest, and toppled backwards over the edge of the cliff.
“Thank god for that,” muttered one of the mental workers to the other. “He was such a pain in the ass last time we took him in.”
“What a fucking nutter,” said the other.
They looked down as Ed’s body was dashed against the rocks below, before high fiving and returning to their van.
Edgy means lots of edges right?
February Flash Fiction Contest Submission Thread on 2/18/2017 11:54:21 AM
February Flash Fiction Contest Submission Thread on 2/18/2017 11:54:03 AM
Harry stood silently in the rain as he stared at the building which loomed intimidatingly in front of him. His eyes lingered on the cracked gutter which ran along the edge of the roof, dripping dirty water down the brick walls that stained white paint peeled off of. A small cobweb hung in the corner of a window, the spider which lived there clinging on for dear life as a gust of wind threatened to blow it off of its perching space.
A large steel gate stood to the side, something that would soon be an impenetrable barrier between Harry and the outside world. The sound of screams drifted over the metal bars, and Harry shivered in terror at the thought of what might be happening in there.
The realisation that he would be spending much of the foreseeable trapped within this place filled him with dread. Who knew just what terrible things they would do to him in there, or if he would ever be able to escape. His feet were rooted to the ground, he wasn’t ready for his world to change. He didn’t want to leave his family, and the fear that he would never see them again made it impossible to take another step.
He looked up behind him, and the reassuring smile of his mother comforted him. “It’s okay darling,” she said. “Go ahead.”
His momentary worries vanished, and he ran through the gate into the playground to join the other children as the stomped about in the puddles, screaming in joy.
Word count: 257