mek7, The Contributor
Hey, everyone! For now, I'm merely a passive observer-just reading stories, but am excited to try my hand at writing a Storygame or two! I've grown up reading the fantasy genre, so that's most likely where I'll begin. Otherwise, I enjoy the field of medicine (vague, I know), martial arts (specifically karate and ju-jitsu), and long walks in the forest, since I don't live near a beach. I've encountered both exceptional authors and an overall wonderful community! I hope to give you something to read and enjoy soon!
Recent PostsWriting Exercises: Week Five on 9/17/2014 12:00:11 AM
This is a fun one! :) Would you like to guess which three tropes I used?
The bald monk's eyes shot open, abruptly ending his morning meditation. He slowly stood up, his sepia-colored robes trailing on the rocky ground.
Negative energy...enemies. Three of them...he calculated, using his mental abilities.
Sensing they had been discovered, three hooded figures dressed in black robes stepped out from their various hiding places. "You know why we've come." A male voice emits from the hooded figure to his left. "You deserve what's coming to you." A female voice on the right makes itself known. The hooded figure directly in front of the monk remains silent.
I must even these odds...The monk thinks to himself. He gets an idea about two of his assumed assailants. He closes his eyes, concentrating on a particularly strong emotion: love. He visualizes the emotion's varied effect, from the earnest wanting of lust to the gripping elation of admiration...The monk his arms outward, one to his left and one to his right, concentrating further, letting his mental energy build and culminate.
The monk the syllable to release his mental energy. He smirks as he realized his intuition was correct, as he hears the spell's effect beginning to work.
The assassin on the right suddenly begins giggling. The assassin on the left tip toes around the monk toward her male partner, scoops him up, and showers him with pecks on what the monk can only presume to be his cheeks (he can't see in the hood, you know). "My darling, it's been so long since I've been able to show you affection!" the fighter-turned-lover proclaims. The man continues giggling. "I never knew you felt so passionately!" he breathes between his snorting laughter. "No more waiting, will you marry me?" The woman asks. "A thousand times YES" the man cries with glee. The pair run off into the woods in search of a chapel.
The monk's grin fades as he directs his attention toward the man in front of him. "I never thought I would see you again..."
"Thought wrong." The man replies.
"You know I never meant to hurt your family, but you left me no choice." The monk attempts to explain.
"Enough." The final assassin replies.
"You don't think I think about them? See them in my nightmares? They're why I came here, so that you would never be reminded of the pain! That wasn't enough for you?" The monk cries exasperatedly.
"Won't be enough 'till you're dead." The man growls.
The monk is about the say more, but the man holds his hand up, signaling there would be no more words. With a grimace, the monk prepared his fists for the ensuing battle.
The pair rushed at one another, determined only one would survive, and lengthy skirmish began.
Writing Exercises: Week Five on 9/16/2014 12:30:59 AM
1. He typed furiously-praying his fingers were fast enough-his eyes darting back and forth from his screen to his watch.
2. With a huff, she looked back at her smoking vehicle and at the looming emptiness ahead.
3. His finger's drummed on the steering wheel, hoping the action would somehow encourage the semi-truck ahead of him to inch ever closer to his exit.
4. She glanced towards her partner, but merely saw his inscrutable expression.
5. Write a quality sentence, or a poor sentence? Hmmm...
With a huff, she looked back at her smoking vehicle and then at the looming emptiness ahead. "Stay or go..." she muttered to herself. All of those survival shows she'd watched had told her to stay with her vehicle if she became stranded, though it didn't seem likely anyone would find her here. Plus, there was that nagging sense of curiosity.
She checked her satchel: plenty of snacks and water. Though she didn't have a map of the area, she did have a compass.
She titled her head back and forth as she inwardly weighed the pros and cons of leaving versus staying put.
One of my New Years' resolutions was to be more adventurous. She thought to herself with a chuckle.
"Oh, why not!" She called into the air, triumphantly, as she reached her decision.
She slung her satchel securely over her shoulder, gave herself a reassuring nod, and ventured forward.
Writing Exercises: Week Four on 9/12/2014 8:33:55 PM
This is an epilogue for the nurse in a post-apocalyptic world (Wednesday’s post, I believe).
It has been several years since I received that journal which all of my patients worked so hard on. Our hospital isn’t much to look at, since it’s been built out of scraps of trees and metal we found nearby, but it certainly serves its purpose.
As for myself-it’s funny, before this world became what it is, I had no goals of becoming anything close to a medical leader, but the role seems to suit me. That is, when I am in charge of things. Everyone is the administrator of the hospital for a week or so, to prevent any greedy gains and for fresh ideas to occur more often. Some of the others still come to me for advice, but they almost always already know the answer. I’m proud of that fact. We haven’t explored much beyond our stretch of community. That’s not what my goal was, so maybe someone else will do so, though I feel secure in our current situation. Overall, things can’t get much better for me. I’m exactly where I want to be.
Those who wanted to merely profit off of the ill have moved on, hoping to find other victims, I suppose. I don’t pay them much mind now. Once word got around about my methods’ success, they started packing up, despite my idea to include them in my program. They supposedly had their own “program”, though, knowing them its vision only went so far as the nearest coin. They wanted no part in my plan, so I wanted no part of theirs. I haven’t heard from them since they left a few years ago.
The diabetic patient, Julie-the one who spearheaded the journal of medical conditions-is fortunately still around, controlling her condition well. She is helping me run the hospital and may even know more about medicine than me at this point, as much as she’s devoted herself to it. She’s part of the research team, using what little resources she and her team has to think up new vaccines and the like. She’s also been my confidant over the years. Every tough decision, she’s been right beside me, weighing the pros and cons. I trust her more than I myself, at times, and am hoping to have her take my place soon.
It’s the end of a long and rewarding day. The nurse stretches, and lays down on one of the hospital cots. This is her home, and she certainly wouldn’t trade it for anything more lavish. She closes her eyes, knowing that her now expert staff has patients with the most severe wounds under control. Her eyes feel heavy and she just about falls asleep…
The diabetic patient steps in, quietly shutting the door behind her. “Are you asleep, nurse?” She whispers.
“Not anymore” the nurse says with a yawn. “Anything new?” the nurse asks.
“Room 12 has been discharged and room 4 is getting worse, though we’re hoping the new batch of meds will help their condition.” Julie states.
“Good work. I was more asking about you, though.” the nurse responds.
“Just losing sleep over room 5”. Julie sighs.
The nurse glances over and offers: “Want to go take a look?”
Julie gives a determined nod as she sits up.
Both women know it will be another sleepless night. Neither would have it any other way.
Writing Exercises: Week Four on 9/11/2014 11:24:26 PM
How did you meet her?
Quite the story, that one...it was on a blind date. Except, she wasn't the date. She was sitting at the table next to ours. The actual date didn't go well at all, and I think, really amused her. After I knew the current date wasn't going anywhere, I just started making up answers. ‘Oh, I still live with my parents.' She burst out laughing at that one. Finally, I built up the courage to sit across from her instead of beside her.
What do you like about Emma?
What DON’T I like about her! She’s my dream girl! Her piercing auburn eyes, her sensual figure, her wit, her charm…I could go on and on!
What does she do that drives you crazy?
I think we’re still in that phase where we can’t see each other’s flaws. The honeymoon phase! N-not that I want to marry her…yet…maybe…
Where do you see yourself with her in 5 years?
Call me old fashioned, but I’d definitely want a couple of kids by then, along with a house with a white picket fence.
How did you meet him?
Oh, how does anyone meet anyone? Chance, I suppose.
What do you like about Gideon?
What does he do that drives you crazy?
What kind of question is that? Next!
Where do you see yourself with him in five years?
/chuckles/ I don’t see myself with HIM in 5 years.
G: He picks up the phone, giddy. “Hey, Emma!”
E: “Hey you, want to meet up tonight?”
G: “Absolutely! Your place or mine?”
“I was thinking somewhere…private. How about the pier?”
“Sounds great! See you at 9?”
“See you then, love.” Emma hangs up and pulls out her pistol, ensuring every part of it is fully functional. “Finally time to take you out…” she says with a grin.
Writing Exercises: Week Four on 9/10/2014 11:28:53 PM
Unsure if I have the concept mapped out enough, but here I go:
The MacGuffin in the following scene is an abstract concept, rather than a concrete object. Bringing modern Western medicine practices back to a post-apocalyptic country through education. In a word: knowledge. The main character, a middle aged Registered Nurse, was one of the few survivors in her area who understands medicinal practices. After years of merely fixing patients' ailing wounds and minds, she desires to try something different. Instead of seeing her situation as a dire one, she sees an opportunity. If she can teach all of her patients about medicine, both crude surgical techniques and about disease prevention, she could really make a difference! There are those, of course who wish to profit off of the epic disaster. Sick people plus limited medicine equals the potential for a large profit. If this knowledge passed along, or falls into the wrong, profit-seeking, hands, it could mean the death of the remaining members of the community and would create major setbacks in the field of medicine.
The young woman stole a glance out of her operating room door, seeing a seemingly unending line of patients. To most medical practitioners, this would emit feelings of dread, but this nurse was different. She was invigorated. More patients means more practice. She thought, excitedly and made a mental note to gather more supplies after she finishes with her current patient. She turned her attention back to her current patient, who came in complaining of a nondescript pain. After asking the appropriate questions, she gives the patient a treatment plan. Then, instead of sending the patient home, she asks the patient to head back out to the waiting room, find someone with similar symptoms and try to diagnose them. “Remember, everyone is an educator” the nurse reminded her patient as she had done with so many others before.
The next patient was quite familiar to the nurse-they were a type 2 diabetic. This time however, along with their glucose readings, they brought something much more rewarding. “This is for you.” The patient said with a smile. The nurse took the package and quickly opened it. It was a journal…and upon skimming it…it was a list of conditions, treatment plans, medications…all from the past year. “The other patients and I really took to hear what you said about everyone being an educator.” The patient said, beaming.
Tears of joy beamed down the nurse’s cheeks. What began as a simple idea and phrase had come to fruition. She walked into the waiting room, clutching the journal with pride. The remaining patients, in on the gift, gathered around, and, for the rest of the day, listened to her read every page to them.
Writing Exercises: Feedback 4 on 9/10/2014 12:31:28 AM
@TaraGil I always appreciate laughter! Thanks for the critique. As for your Monday sentences, I was drawn to 2 and 5. 2) It was a quick emotional roller coaster of 'that's sweet' to 'how could he!'. 5) "I would say I simply didn't" ushered me to read on and I'm sure glad I did-sort of, since 5 left me glancing out my bedroom door.
Writing Exercises: Feedback 4 on 9/10/2014 12:04:00 AM
Ah, I see. Thanks for the info and welcome! :)
Writing Exercises: Week Four on 9/9/2014 11:56:08 PM
Slowly. Slowly. You tell yourself. You do your best to listen to the voice in your head, but your heart is pounding in your ears and you can both feel and hear your breathing become more rapid. Each step seems glacial, but you know it will be worth it. It has been 10 years since you were locked away. All of your senses went nearly numb due to the silent darkness and the cold, monotonous stones underneath your shivering body. As you inch ever closer to freedom, you seem almost hyper-aware of your surroundings. You picture what's ahead: you hear a babbling brook, smell the faint scent of-what is that...lilacs? You stop for a moment. Just two more steps. You take a deep breath and hold it, hold in the last remnants of what you thought would be your tomb, then release it and step out into the sunlight. You keep your eyes tightly shut, as not to immediately blind yourself from the severe adjustment of pitch black to light.
The world comes into focus as your eyes open ever so slowly. Your crimson eyes shine against the sun. You bask in the sun-and your freedom- for a moment. But only for a moment. Now, you must begin enacting your revenge, against all of those who have wronged you. You turn to face the first of your many victims.
Starting with him.
Slowly. Slowly. You think to yourself. Just keep moving slowly toward that door, no sudden moves now...you silently plead. You tread carefully behind the prisoner, watching him like a hawk, wishing all this would be over. After all, you'd been the one who had mocked him, done...unspeakable things...to him. However, the prisoner never seemed to hold it against you. I was merely following orders! you confidently tell yourself with a self-assured nod. However, you can't help but be a bit nervous. This IS the first time anyone has walked out of here. Why is he moving so SLOWLY. Just get on with it!
You wait impatiently behind him, rolling your eyes as the prisoner stops and takes a deep breath before opening the door. After what feels likes ages, the prisoner does indeed get on with it and steps out into the sunlight. You follow him, trying to think of what to say. Good luck! Yes, that's it. Short and simple....
Why is he looking at me like that?
Writing Exercises: Feedback 4 on 9/9/2014 2:31:31 PM
You're referring to voting for one of your sentences, correct?
Writing Exercises: Week Four on 9/8/2014 11:19:51 PM
1. You glance at the clock. 'Time for rest', you think to yourself and almost laugh aloud. If you can even call the following thought addled hours "rest".
2. "It's not merely about being "forgetful", it's about my future-what's going to happen if I don't fix this!" I said, a bit too sharply.
3. "Alright, you've got this! Use at least one of the following themes: Insomnia, being late, and....um..."
4. BOOM, BOOM. BOOM, BOOM. The usual 'tick, tock' has turned into an assault you must dismiss.
5. Breakfast, shower, wake up roommate. The routine resumes.
(Scene) Breakfast, shower, wake up roommate. The routine resumes.
This morning, you wake up and glance at your alarm clock. A few minutes before your alarm-good. You'll arrive in plenty of time for your exam.
You go into autopilot: breakfast, shower, wake up roo-- You're suddenly jolted awake.
"Hey, we've got to go!" your friend says, hurriedly. Confused and bleary-eyed, you allow your vision to focus.
Five minutes before class. Your heart nearly leaves your chest as your realize...
You just dreamt your morning routine.