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[CENTER][SIZE="4"]THE GREAT OTAKU PROSE CONTEST[/SIZE] Round 1.2 [SIZE="4"][B]CHIBI-MASTER [/B]VERSUS [B]ANOMALY[/B][/CENTER][/SIZE] [CENTER][SIZE="1"]Voting is open to all Otaku members except Chibi-Master and Anomaly. Voters, please state your vote clearly. Also, please provide information that shows why you voted the way you did. [COLOR="Red"]The deadline for voting is Friday, February 6.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] [FONT="Courier New"][B][U][SIZE="4"]The Challenge: Say That You Love Me[/SIZE][/U][/B][/FONT] Valentine's Day is fast approaching, friends. Write a short story between [SIZE="3"]100[/SIZE] and [SIZE="3"]500[/SIZE] words that deals with love. Any kind of love. Brotherly love, tough love, romantic love, the love of money. Take any spin on it that you want. [SIZE="1"][COLOR="Red"]All submissions should be in by Thursday, January 29.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"]THE GREAT OTAKU PROSE CONTEST[/SIZE] Round 1.2 [SIZE="4"][B]SABRINA [/B]VERSUS [B]Lrb[/B][/CENTER][/SIZE] [CENTER][SIZE="1"]Voting is open to all Otaku members except Sabrina and Lrb. Voters, please state your vote clearly. Also, please provide information that shows why you voted the way you did. [COLOR="Red"]The deadline for voting is Friday, February 6.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] [U][FONT="Courier New"][SIZE="4"][B]The Challenge: 6 Fiction:[/B][/SIZE][/FONT][/U] That's right. Again. You know the rules by now: the stories must be exactly [SIZE="3"]6[/SIZE] words. Write [SIZE="3"]3[/SIZE] of 'em. Voters will vote for the author of their favorite [SIZE="3"]1[/SIZE]. [SIZE="1"][COLOR="Red"]Since 6 fiction is not a work-intensive challenge, submissions should be in by Thursday, January 29.[/COLOR][/SIZE]

[color=darkblue][size=1]*after much forgetfulness...* Hey there. Kei here. ^^ Not often that I come in here, but I wanted to get the word out about a new project that I've been working on for a little bit. The basic gist of things is that I'm looking to create a news site that's tuned into our generation. A lot of young people don't read the newspaper for various reasons, but they easily tune into things like The Daily Show and The Colbert Report on a nightly basis. Why? Because they present things in a fashion that's actually interesting to us (comedy tends to do that). So that's what I want to try and do: provide a readable version of the news that will actually get people interested in reading it. In terms of the site itself, it would be independent of both theO and OtakuBoards. I just wanted to include the people here because I know there are a lot of writers and journalists milling about, so why not start here? As far as content, anything that's part of a regular newspaper/news site is fair game. If you want to do opinion, that's cool. If sports is your deal, go for it. It's writing the news you care about your way in a style that's appealing to the masses. As of right now, I'm looking around to try to find a good spot to put the site and a few willing bodies to help with design and layout stuff (since I lack Dreamweaver and the ability to [i]use[/i] Dreamweaver). But for those that are interested, by all means, ask questions here or shoot me a PM. Thanks for reading. ~Kei[/color][/size]

A lone hawk soared in the summer sky. A dark silhouette drifting on the sun-warmed currents, it was the sole blemish on the blue welkin, left dazzlingly clear after the morning fog had burned away. Now the plains over which the hawk flew were cast in a brilliant midday light, and the shadows, thrown on the plains by the occasional stand of trees or herd of gazelle, were just starting to lengthen One of these herds was below the hawk now, grazing by the tree line on the plain?s edge. Now and again a watchful beast would raise its head and cast about for any nearby threats, returning to its feeding after satisfying itself that there were none. The bird gliding above them was paid little heed. The wind carried the hawk over the herd, and it banked lazily, circling around for another pass. Large even for a bird of prey, it was colored a dull, earthy brown, save for its red tail-feathers. A long gash of a scar marred the lighter feathers of the hawk?s breast, an ugly jagged line that stretched to just under the bird?s left wing. Its dark brown eyes, lit fiercely from within, were locked intently on the herd. The tercel had been following the gazelles for a fair part of the morning. Floating high enough to avoid spooking the herd?s sentries, it had carefully watched their movements, picking out the sickly and weak and waiting for a good moment to strike. As the herd eased itself into a hollow in the tree line, the hawk sensed the moment approaching and, gathering itself, drifted to just above the herd?s outer edge. In the blink of an eye the hawk became a dark-haired man prostrate in the air. He whipped a simple bow off of his shoulder; no longer supported by the currents, the man fell swiftly to the earth. Snatching three arrows from the quiver at his back, he nocked them all and, sighting as he plummeted, he fired them into the herd?s trailing edge. Two of the arrows buried themselves in the earth, the startled gazelles nearest them shying instantly. The lucky third struck one beast in the neck, and its scream threw the herd into a panic. As they began to race to the open plain, the falling man let out a shout, reverting to a hawk with barely a man?s height to spare, his wings beating furiously to regain the air. His cry and sudden appearance balked the nearest gazelles, and in their turmoil half of them tried to reverse themselves, stumbling over the others who had not seen the man. A cougar, also much larger than normal, burst from the trees in full charge. Now the herd fled in earnest, scattering in terror to the grassland?but the hawk?s surprise had done its work, and the cougar had already tackled one unfortunate beast and taken off in pursuit of a second. The grounded gazelle fought for its footing, but had hardly gained its balance when another arrow sank into its heart, and it collapsed back to the earth. The dark-haired man, who had landed some distance to left, began retrieving his arrows in silence, plucking the first and second from the plain, then standing and looking for the beast he had struck earlier. It too lay dead farther off, having clung to life long enough to see the cat break from the forest and to run for a second or two before succumbing to its wound. The man, bare-chested save for the leather strap of his quiver, saw that his shot had pierced through his prey?s neck; he?d have to cut it free, meaning the arrow was lost. He would salvage the head, of course, and attach it to another, but the shaft itself was worthless now. The man scratched absently at the scar on his chest, an old wound from a fight he never should have had. Fitting that he should carry the reminder the rest of his life, he thought, tracing its path to his left armpit with an almost stroking motion. The injury had got infected and had taken over a week to heal?and had not healed completely. He was fortunate that it had not been his strong arm, though his speed-draw had been affected at first. It had taken a few months to relearn a few of his old skills. He was a well-toned man, like most of the men of his aerie, and of modest stature. His face was long, but not gaunt?though his nose did hook over, curved almost like a beak. His eyes, too, were like those of the hawk he had been, each a large ring of deep brown set in black, and the peculiar absence of eye-white only intensified the fierceness of his gaze. Even stranger was the man?s hair. At a distance it appeared dark, but on approach it was clearly mottled, a scattered mix of cinnamon and white everywhere except for the hair at the back of his neck. There it suddenly became a dusty red, and was allowed to grow a little longer than the rest. By contrast, the downy hair of his chest was so fair to be almost invisible. If it were not for his scar, only those of keen eye would have noticed the down at all; nothing grew around the unsightly blemish. From the waist down the man appeared as any other hunter, wearing long, thick-spun pants and well-crafted but worn leather shoes. A thick-bladed wood knife hung from his belt, along with various other tools a man of his trade might want. He stooped by the second beast and tore his arrow free. Drawing a cloth from a pocket at his waist, he wiped the head clean, inspected it, and returned it to his quiver. When he straightened and turned around, he found a sandy-haired woman smirking at him, her morning?s prize resting on her shoulders. She cocked her head to one side.[/pindent] "We have a problem,? she informed him, her smile brightening. She stood about half a head below the man, her features soft and rounded and her cheeks dotted with freckles. Here eyes were all faded-green iris around two vertical black-slits, and she looked out from under a slender brow with a self-assurance that, combined with her casual posture, projected an air of passive arrogance. She wore a leather jerkin over a plain white cotton shirt whose sleeves ended halfway down her forearm, comfortable pants, and well-traveled, dusty leather shoes. Her slim hands grasped her slain gazelle by the ankles. Traces of blood were smudged by the corner of her lips, left over from the kill. The man eyed her, then darted a look around the plain. "We do?" "Mm-hmm!" The woman shifted her weight to her left leg, but declined to elaborate. Instead she waited while the man salvaged his remaining arrow and hauled the gazelle?s carcass back. Dropping the beast by the other, he looked up to her expectantly, then to her catch and back to her. He made a motion at his face. "You've got something...." The woman frowned and rubbed at the side of her mouth with a knuckle. Discovering the smudge, she wet the back of her hand with her tongue and wiped the blood away, washing her hand and finger clean. Her eyes sparkled mischievously, but she revealed nothing further. The man surveyed their catch. Two elderly but still appetizing males (one rested on the woman's shoulders), and a female in her prime. A very good catch, he decided. Not exceptional, but certainly good. Perhaps, he thought, if Naeir had been well enough to come with them.... He sighed. "What problem do we have?" he asked, relenting. "And why are you so pleased about it if it is one?" The woman let out a satisfied giggle. "We have three kills today," she said happily. "Yes." The woman waited a moment for her companion to continue, or at least indicate he understood. When he did not, her brow furrowed and she tilted her head. "There are only two of us, Drannet." Her tone was reproving; she had expected him to be as pleased with their 'predicament' as she. She should have known better. Her companion rarely showed any sort of excitement. She knew he felt it occasionally; she had seen his eyes glitter with pleasure on feasting days, or with anger, as they had when his second son had been caught harassing one of the Wolf cubs. But she was always hard-pressed to pull such feelings out into the open. Even for a Red-Tail he was reserved. "Sticks," he was saying. His eyes were already scanning the trees for suitable branches. "We've carried our prey on them before. There's no reason we can't today." The woman huffed. "You and Naeir are about the same height, though. Won't this make the burden uneven?" Drannet looked her over out of the corner of his eye. "Are you saying you can't handle a little extra weight?" he inquired, arching an eyebrow. "I am a Cat," she sniffed haughtily. "I could out-lift you any day. But," she continued when he turned away, "we still only have two sets of shoulders." The Red-Tail sighed. "We will tie one between the staves. Then we can also remember which beast is yours." He turned an impatient stare full on her. "Will that appease you, cantankerous woman?" "Of course it will," she snickered. "Clever, clever Drannet. Always thinking of me." In a single easy motion she swung her gazelle over her head and thumped it onto the ground. "Now go and make your sticks. I'm hungry." Drannet caught her arm as she stooped to change. "Restrain yourself—at least until we return," he added hastily. "We hunt for many, not just ourselves." "It's my kill!" she exclaimed, affecting a hurt expression. It lasted a fleeting moment, though, chased away by her devilish grin. "Besides, I only want a haunch." She shoved him playfully. "Go. I don't want to be on the plains in the heat."

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"]Things got off to a flying start the first week of my new school semester in my Creative Writing class wherein the professor sadly informed us that the department chair is making us doing an 'evaluative assignment'. We're supposed to write 250-500 words about ourselves and make 'interesting things' happen. The professor told us that he didn't really mind if we completely phoned it in, because he thought it was stupid too. So here's my small contribution to the cause. And after you've read my poem, it'd be super if you wrote one of your own. Has to be about yourself, 250-500 words, and also has to avoid long sweeping metaphors, rhymes, and cliches.[/FONT][/COLOR] [center]******[/center] [size=3][FONT="System"][COLOR="RoyalBlue"]I am standing between two trees made of leather. One is pink and black and spread upwards in twelve braided branches. Another is a single line, stretching upwards out of view. I love to talk about myself because everyone else is positively dull. Underneath me is the warm body of my lieutenant boyfriend. He smells like Old Spice and expensive hair gel because he’s into manscaping. We sleep together even though we’re not married. I’m sure my parson father would disapprove, even fly into a rage if he found out. He ministers to the local church that stands across the street from a low class sex shop. People sneak into the store at night, during the day they can just pretend that they’re going to the Mexican restaurant next door. They think they have to hide, but I don’t blame them much. I prefer to shop online to furnish my sick fetishes. I love writing things that make people’s heart rate go up. It’s fun to bait and switch the liberal professors who think they’re on a divine mission from God to brainwash young students. She tells them it’s their duty. Sometimes I fantasize about being in a class with a conservative professor instead, just to shake things up. But most of the time my hopes end up cruelly dashed, and I have to figure out if the professor actually has a sense of humor about politics or if he’s an insufferable bore. Either way I can’t help loving it. Every Sunday I go to church and sing with the worship team. The songs bounce effortlessly through my throat, and I’m learning to send my voice higher without letting it crack and snap back down. Sometimes people ask me how I can balance algolagnia with abject worship of Jesus Christ. I tell them that unlike my politics, my religion is none of their bloody business. Most of the time they get the message. But sometimes they’re one of those angry screaming atheists who want to foist their anti-God on the rest of us. Surprisingly, most of those atheists aren’t actual atheists at all, but are just pissed that God actually didn’t give them cake and candies. They still believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. When I was seven, my dad told me that Santa Claus died out back in the 60s of a massive myocardial infarction. When I was ten my mom served jugged hare on Easter Sunday. I used to look for the man in the moon when I was little, but as I grew up I figured that he might have just retired. So if I have a religion now, it’s probably unrecognizable from the religion that my father administers to the masses. Not that I mind much. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s people who tell others they’re going to hell. And by the way. Go to hell. [/COLOR][/FONT][/size]

[COLOR=Black][SIZE="4"][CENTER][FONT="Arial Black"]These are my bedtime stories.[/FONT][/CENTER][/SIZE] [/COLOR] [COLOR=Gray][center][U]The Man and His Boy[/U][/center] He held in his hands the perfection of innocence. He cradled in his arms every piece of himself that was good and pure. This was his one treasure; his true love. The man stared down at his beautiful boy, at his only son, not daring to look away. If he looked away for even an instant, his child might disappear. No, he would not look away. He would have this moment for as long as he could. In the street there was honking and shouting. The baby slept peacefully, wrapped in an old blue blanket. His little fists, tiny to the point of absurdity, were balled and held against his mouth. He let out a small hiccup as he slept. The man laughed softly, feeling an immense amount of joy in the thing his boy had just done. [I]This is my living, breathing son[/I], he thought to himself. [I]That was my son’s noise. My son made that noise with his own mouth.[/I] In the distance, a siren sounded. The father felt joy because the boy could do no wrong. How could he? Looking down upon the bundle of blanket and skin, the notion that this child could cause any harm was ridiculous. And besides, angels don’t hurt. Gifts from God cannot bring about pain. They can only bring happiness, contentment, and wonder. The alley was wet from the morning rain. With an introspective smile, the father looked at the face of his precious boy. He wondered if he would grow to be a good, strong man. He wondered if his son would do the things that he never could. He wondered if his son would love any person the same way that his father loved him, right now, at this moment. The evening air was cold. With small pouting noises, the son awoke. The father felt cold inside himself, inside his chest. [I] His eyes[/I], he thought, [I]his eyes are just like hers[/I]. But they were so different. The fire in his son’s eyes was shining, hungry to see and to learn and to understand. His mother’s eyes were losing focus. His mother’s eyes were dimming as her breathing became slow and shallow. Her eyes were meaningless glass balls inside of a skull, her mouth a maw of flesh, her hair was tattered cloth. The father could not stop the tears. As he lifted the silver trash-can lid, the baby started to cry. He did not try to calm the child. He lowered the bundle in his arms gently into the cylinder, laying it to rest atop a pile of refuse. The child was bawling in earnest. His fists flailed against the air and his little body. Sobbing, the father bent down and kissed his son’s silky, warm forehead. The shadow of the trash-can lid traversing the child’s face was like the moon that eclipses the sun.[/COLOR]

(before I begin, I'd like to say that I changed the title of this story, and that it's somewhere on TheOtaku. I didn't get alot of reviews so I'm hoping I'll get some here. This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so if you have any comments on how I can improve, please let me know. Thanks!!) ________________________________________________________________ Solitude. This is what I call this...constant loneliness, this endless time to think about the past and the future, my goals. It is good, because if I just let myself become attached to these almost? inferior people of Konoha, they would just slow me down. Weaken me. I don?t want nor need friends, because they just bring back memories from the past that I?d rather forget. Of course, these clueless idiots (like a certain Haruno?ugh?and other fangirls) do try to associate themselves with me, barely aware of the hostile barrier that I have built around myself. Fools - becoming emotionally attached to others. They are so naïve! Naïve of the many dangers of this, the danger of trust. The cost of becoming foolish enough to trust other people, no matter how many suspicious things they do. My own brother, whom everyone had once looked up to, betrayed the Uchiha Clan - my Clan who had dared to trust my genius brother, my Clan who had ultimately paid the highest price with their lives. And now, I alone am the only one left to see the ruins of my Clan, see for myself how trust ruined everything? my possible life. But this life now will someday, eventually give me the chance to destroy that evil man painfully, and to restore my Clan to full power. This pain is the only thing that I?m grateful to my brother for. As I stand alone here in the cool shade of the leafy green trees above me, barely watching the remaining members of Team Seven (the team members that I am forced to be around with), Uzumaki Naruto decides to leave the group. He runs up to me. I coldly glance at him. Stupid, clumsy idiot. How on earth did he ever become a Genin? The only useful jutsu he knows is the forbidden Shadow Clone Jutsu... ?Sasuke, come and practice with me and Sakura! Kakashi?s making us all recap on using our chakra properly. We have to run up trees, again!? Mentally, I sigh. So boring, so annoying. Why must I be slowed down continually by these two dimwits? And what did I ever do to anyone, to deserve being annoyed all the time by Naruto? I narrow my eyes at him. ?I don?t need this sort of practice.? Naruto scowls. ?Yeah, because my name?s Sasuke Uchiha and I?m too good for everybody so I don?t need to practice. Yeah yeah, say something new!? I turn my head away from him, acting like I am bored- which I am, actually. And?although I don?t show it- it would be weak if I did? his words sting me, just a little. Why?would that be so?? ?Whatever,? I say coldly to him. With no sign of the anger directed at myself, for allowing this feeling caused by him shown on my face, I walk away, and Naruto does not follow. Probably going back to Sakura now to complain about me. As I walk off, I think about what he said. What the hell does he know about me? He doesn?t know what it?s like to suffer by losing everything! He knows nothing, nothing at all about me! I do need to practice, but not by walking up trees; I mastered that a long time ago. I need to practice different skills, master new jutsu. Only by doing this, can I avenge my Clan and become stronger. I grit my teeth, temper flaring. Why am I letting his words affect me?? Naruto thinks I?m selfish, and arrogant. What do I care? Ugh! He was alone, from the very start! Nobody at all had expectations of him, nobody at all, unless they were wondering whether Naruto could keep the Nine Tailed Fox inside of him! I, on the other hand, had family at the start. I was stupid enough to grow a little attached to some, was stupid enough let myself love some. I was a fool, a ?weakling?, just like Itachi said. There were expectations of me, always. Whenever I succeeded, I was always told by my respected father that that was what was expected by his son, that that was what was expected by an Uchiha. If I ever failed, then the disappointment in the eyes of my family was overwhelming. I was forever in the shadow of my brother, always known as ?Itachi?s brother?, never known by my actual name. It had frustrated me so much to know that I could never exceed these expectations- that I would always be overshadowed by the genius in our family, my traitor brother. It was so frustrating at the time? I used to feel like screaming at my parents, ?Leave me alone, I?m not my brother!! And I could be just as good as he is, if you would just stop comparing me to someone I?m not!!? That, was when I was.. a child. And even now, now that Konoha knows the truth about Itachi, I am still barely any different, still haunted endlessly by memories. The only difference now is this new pain and longing for someone to?care, that arrived after the destruction. I wish that I still had a home to go to sometimes, wish that I still could feel loved. Wish even now that someone, sometimes, maybe even once, would kiss my forehead before I sleep at night. I was just a child, back then, when it happened?then deprived of love for the rest of my childhood. I want to be accepted for who I am, and I don?t want expectations of myself. I want to be able to love and be loved, yet I absolutely cannot allow myself to be that weak. I will not cause myself more pain than necessary. But I won?t let myself be distracted these wishes, for they can never come true, for my childhood was stolen from me. I can never trust, love again? Because 12 years ago, a boy named Itachi Uchiha destroyed every member of my Clan so he could become stronger? and he ripped to shreds any hope of me loving another person ever again. My name is Sasuke Uchiha, and I am not my brother - I will not gain power the same way he did, either. I exist now, to avenge my Clan, by destroying my traitor brother, and to restore the once greatness of the Uchihas, so that one day I may find inner peace within the hatred and hurt inside of me. This is who I really am.

[COLOR="Red"][FONT="Lucida Sans Unicode"]Ever since I was younger, I've always had this love of faeries. I always believed (and still do!) that magyck exists in the world, even if I couldn't explain it. As I grew older, my fantasies turned into stories, and I started writing them down. Within the last three or four years, I started blending my love of science with my love of magyck to create a world where most magyck could be explained by some "scientific discovery." I started writing this world down, creating several characters and scenarios, until I found one I really liked. This is pretty much a prologue of a refined version of my sci-fi magyck adventure world and its characters.[/COLOR] [U]Prologue[/U] The mission specs are simple enough: infiltrate the enemy camp and liberate the five hostages. The fighting between rebel factions and the current government in Saudi Arabia has died down in recent years, but lately, little pockets of violence are sprouting up around the cities. A rebel group has managed to take captive five civilians; it is their job to free them. They, six elite agents of the Federation for Unworldly Reconnaissance, Investigation, and Endangerment Suppression, are the ones people turn to in their direst hour. In light of the recent world events, the agency has been forced to come out of the secrecy they so very much coveted. Though they were first secretly commissioned by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, the agency has existed since ancient times. In a futuristic society where magyck beings coexist with mortals, they are the necessary link that keeps relative peace. With the discovery of the existence of faeries, living among humans, no less, and the subsequent uncovering of the rest of the [I]Lain Dunia[/I] (Other Realm) species in the year 2030, the world was thrown into mass chaos. It took several years of reassurance to placate the mortal population and remind them how long these beings had been living among them in peace. By 2043, most of the terrorist groups trying to capture Fae, Vampyr, and Werefolk, as well as other species, for either scientific research or simple elimination had been dismantled. In 2045, the government began a massive project to combine [I]Lain Dunia[/I] technologies with existing mortal equipment to enhance the country?s various abilities. As well as America, other countries developed highly advanced combinations of the two worlds. The result was a massive technological leap that threw the world into a new age of transportation, environmental conservation, and weaponry, among other things. Despite the progress, there are still incidents of violence and discrimination against [I]Lain Dunia [/I]beings, even almost eighty years later. In the year 2124, FURIES?s job is to protect and to serve, especially where immortal beings are involved. Made up of various immortals, the agency is extensive in its capabilities, ranging from high security to advanced reconnaissance, biochemical warfare to old-fashioned assassinations. Their agents are trained above and beyond any other protective corporation, beginning during their early teenage years, a regimen lasting nearly ten years. Of these many agents, Team Discordia-1 has been chosen to deal with the recent uprising in Saudi Arabia. The six of them easily and successfully break past the outer security and incapacitate the immediate guards. Everything falls silent, save the whimpers of the captives and the gunfights outside. Agent AAC-039?Camrin Cristal?enters the cramped cell first. As the team?s medic, she wants to assess the medical damage as soon as possible. Despite her initial concerns, however, none of the Fae captives are seriously injured. Another agent enters the cell, Agent AAL-046, Lex Rhodes, and helps her untie the hostages. Two others stay directly outside the cell; the remaining two stand at the end of the hallway keeping watch. Agent AAK-016, Kimi Jaye, glances into the cell as the first two hostages exit and race down the hallway. Camrin and Lex help the other three escape, nodding in affirmation. Agent AAC-008, Corinth Saunders, helps the three hostages down the hallway to meet up with Agents AAN-013 and AAJ-023?Nathaniel de Lovelle, a Vampyr, and Jonathan Connelly, respectively. As the agents silently travel down the hallway, the only notice that they were there at all is the trail of death they leave behind? [/FONT]

[COLOR="1234"]This is just a short little prologue/short story that has to do with an idea that's been rolling in my head for a few weeks. The story's original name was The Gunslinger, but I looked around the net and Stephen King already has a book called The Gunslinger. This is just a short thing that will introduce you to teh beginning a little bit, it's like a trailer. [hr]100[/hr] [CENTER][SIZE="6"][U][FONT="Impact"]THE GUNSLINGER INCARNATE[/FONT][/U][/SIZE][/CENTER][/COLOR] [COLOR="Sienna"][B]"Ethan, did you get the mail today?" [/B]A deep, tall voice echoed down a long, dark hallway. The voice was that of twenty-one year old, David Oswald. David was tall and skinny. [B]"Yeah, I got something, and you have a few bills." [/B]Ethan replied as he placed a few envelopes on David's desk. Ethan was a medium sized, and very muscular teenager that David knew since he was five. Ethan had long black hair, and dark blue eyes. Ethan also had an unusual birthmark shaped like a star on his back, and he had a small scar across his neck. [B]"Well, I'm going to be upstairs Ethe, see you in a few hours, we'll goto the bar tonight." [/B]David waved and walked up the dark ceder steps to his room. Ethan, sat down in David's recliner and opened the letter addressed to him. [B][I][INDENT]2-7-23 Dear Ethan, You might not remember me, but I sure do remember you. We went to middle school together when we were 14 and we were great friends. Oh, how could I forget, my name is Breanne Flin, if that helps you remember. Anyways, could you meet me at the park on 2-9-23 at 8 P.M.? I'd love to catch up. Your old friend, Breanne Flin. P.S. It's going to be great to see you again![/INDENT][/I][/B] Ethan sat on the edge of the recliner and thought about this Breanne girl, and suddenly it hit him. She was his old crush in 8th grade. They were really good friends, until Breanne moved when she was seventeen. Ethan was ecstatic to see her, she was a good person and an even better friend. He could remember her personality, she was sweet, funny and caring. Plus she was very cute. The clock read 5:30 P.M., Ethan had to get ready. ************** It was 6:30, and Ethan was walking the streets of New York City. He was headed to the park to greet Breanne. But something was off, why did she try reconnecting with Ethan? Ethan liked her, he didn't even think about her until now. But Ethan didn't care, he didn't want to blow her off and feel like a prick. After a few minutes of mindless walking, Ethan arrived at the park, however, Breanne wasn't there. The only person there was a man wearing a weird black robe, and he was holding something similar to a blade in his hand. He also had a sling with a small pistol in it. The park was dead silent, even the cold breeze stopped as the man took a few steps toward Ethan. Ethan looked around to see that time had stopped! The cars stopped moving, the clouds stopped moving, even the animals stopped moving. [I]What the hell is going on? [/I]Ethan asked himself. A few seconds past and the man in the robe walked toward Ethan. With every step a metal clang erupted from the man's feet. [B]"Who are you?!" [/B]Ethan yelled after obtaining some bravery. The man removed his hood to reveal an almost mirror image of Ethan. But the man's eyes were red and his face was a bit darker. [B]"You don't know me, yet you do know me..."[/B] He said in a dark, gloomy voice. [B]"What do you mean?" [/B]Ethan asked as he stepped back cautiously. [B]"I am the Gunslinger, and so are you... you don't know yet, but your life is about to change."[/B] ************* Ethan awoke in his bed, he was breathing heavily, he whipped his face and sat up. He was panting like a dog in a stove. The same dream, for the twelfth day in a row, what the hell does it all mean? Ethan asked himself. It was 12 P.M. and the sun was hidden behind the clouds. Suddenly he heard a knock on the door. [B]"Ethan, you received a letter from some girl. Her name is Breanne, she wants to see you tomorrow at 7 in the evening."[/B] Ethan opened the letter realizing that the dream might be more real than he thought.[/COLOR]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][FONT="Arial Black"]THE GREAT OTAKU PROSE CONTEST[/FONT][/SIZE] Round 1 [SIZE="4"] D[COLOR="MediumTurquoise"]E[/COLOR]L[COLOR="SlateGray"]A[/COLOR]R[COLOR="MediumTurquoise"]G[/COLOR]E [FONT="Impact"]VERSUS [/FONT]R[COLOR="White"]E[/COLOR]X[COLOR="White"]I[/COLOR]K[COLOR="White"]A[/COLOR]T [COLOR="White"]X[/COLOR]V[COLOR="White"]I[/COLOR][/CENTER][/SIZE] [CENTER] [SIZE="1"]Voting is open to ALL Otaku members except DeLarge and Rexikat XVI. Voters, please state your vote clearly. Also, please give your reason for casting your vote the way you do. [COLOR="Red"]Voting will close on Friday, January 23.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] [FONT="Courier New"][B][U][SIZE="4"]The Challenge: Do As You Will[/SIZE][/U][/B][/FONT] Contestants may write...whatever they wish, provided it is longer than [SIZE="3"]100[/SIZE] words.

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][FONT="Arial Black"]THE GREAT OTAKU PROSE CONTEST[/FONT][/SIZE] Round 1 [SIZE="4"][FONT="Franklin Gothic Medium"]VI[COLOR="gray"]C[/COLOR][COLOR="Red"]KY[/COLOR][/FONT] [FONT="Impact"]VERSUS[/FONT] [FONT="Book Antiqua"][COLOR="SandyBrown"]MR.[/COLOR] B[COLOR="Gray"]L[/COLOR][COLOR="Silver"]O[/COLOR][COLOR="White"]N[/COLOR][COLOR="Gray"]D[/COLOR]E[/FONT][/SIZE] [SIZE="1"]Voting is open to ALL Otaku members except Vicky and Mr. Blonde. Voters, please state your vote clearly. Also, please give your reason for casting your vote the way you do. [COLOR="Red"]Voting will close on Friday, January 23.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] [FONT="Courier New"][SIZE="4"][B][U]The Challenge: Dying Is Your Latest Fashion[/U][/B][/SIZE][/FONT] Each contestant will write a short story between [SIZE="3"]200[/SIZE] and [SIZE="3"]500[/SIZE] words. The stories can be told in any format, in any tense, from any point of view. However, there is one requirement: in each contestant's short story, [U]someone must die.[/U]

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][FONT="Arial Black"]THE GREAT OTAKU PROSE CONTEST[/FONT][/SIZE] Round 1 [SIZE="4"][COLOR="Red"]PFI[/COLOR][COLOR="Silver"]SLA[/COLOR][COLOR="White"]ND[/COLOR] [FONT="Impact"]VERSUS[/FONT] [COLOR="Magenta"]S[/COLOR][COLOR="DeepSkyBlue"]H[/COLOR][COLOR="SandyBrown"]Y[/COLOR][/SIZE] [SIZE="1"]Voting is open to ALL Otaku members except pfisland and Shy. Voters, please state your vote clearly. Also, please give your reason for casting your vote the way you do. [COLOR="Red"]Voting will close on Friday, January 23.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] [SIZE="4"][FONT="Courier New"][B][U]The Challenge: Sex Change[/U][/B][/FONT][/SIZE] Each contestant will write a short story between [SIZE="3"]200[/SIZE] and [SIZE="3"]500[/SIZE] words. Each short story must be told from a first person limited point of view. Authors, the narrator of your story must be the [U]opposite[/U] gender that you happen to be.

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][FONT="Arial Black"]THE GREAT OTAKU PROSE CONTEST[/FONT][/SIZE] Round 1 [SIZE="4"][FONT="Book Antiqua"][COLOR="Red"]C[/COLOR]H[COLOR="Red"]A[/COLOR]R[COLOR="Red"]L[/COLOR]IE B[COLOR="Red"]R[/COLOR]A[COLOR="Red"]V[/COLOR]O[/FONT] [FONT="Impact"]VERSUS[/FONT] [B][FONT="Comic Sans MS"][COLOR="Pink"]C[/COLOR][COLOR="White"]H[/COLOR][COLOR="Wheat"]I[/COLOR][COLOR="Pink"]B[/COLOR][COLOR="White"]I[/COLOR][COLOR="Pink"]-[/COLOR][COLOR="Wheat"]M[/COLOR][COLOR="White"]A[/COLOR][COLOR="Pink"]S[/COLOR][COLOR="Wheat"]T[/COLOR][COLOR="Pink"]E[/COLOR][COLOR="White"]R[/COLOR][/FONT][/B][/SIZE] [SIZE="1"]Voting is open to ALL Otaku members except Charlie Bravo and Chibi-Master. Voters, please state your vote clearly. Also, please give your reason for casting your vote the way you do. [COLOR="Red"]Voting will close on Friday, January 23.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] [B][U][SIZE="4"][FONT="Courier New"]The Challenge: Six Fiction[/FONT][/SIZE][/U][/B] Each contestant will compose [SIZE="3"]3[/SIZE] short stories. Each short story must consist of [U]exactly[/U] [SIZE="3"]6[/SIZE] words. Voters will choose their favorite six-word story, thereby voting for the author of that story.

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][FONT="Arial Black"]THE GREAT OTAKU PROSE CONTEST[/FONT][/SIZE] Round 1 [SIZE="4"][FONT="Lucida Console"][COLOR="Navy"][B]S[/COLOR]A[COLOR="DarkSlateGray"]B[/COLOR][COLOR="White"]R[/COLOR][COLOR="Navy"]I[/COLOR]N[COLOR="DarkSlateGray"]A[/B][/COLOR][/FONT] [FONT="Impact"]VERSUS [/FONT]M[COLOR="Orange"]O[/COLOR]NA[COLOR="DimGray"]R[/COLOR]C[COLOR="Orange"]K[/COLOR][/SIZE] [SIZE="1"]Voting is open to ALL Otaku members except Sabrina and Monarck. Voters, please state your vote clearly. Also, please give your reason for casting your vote the way you do. [COLOR="Red"]Voting will close on Friday, January 23.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] [SIZE="4"][B][FONT="Courier New"][U]The Challenge: 55 Fiction[/U][/FONT][/B][/SIZE] Each contestant will Compose [SIZE="3"]1[/SIZE] short story. However, this short story [U]may not exceed 55 words[/U]. Voters will select their favorite work of the two.

A story has been past down for many generation about a group of people taking a bus trip. You see, they were all members of a certain forum website, and were taking a trip into the woods. Why were they taking this trip? Nobody to this day knows, but one things for sure. None of them that returned EVER were the same. The story begins as the bus full of anime addicts, videogame vultures, movie monsters, reeking roleplayers, story telling sicko's, and curent event creeps pulls into the abandoned camp ground 100 miles into the deepest forest in a state that won't be named in order to keep anyone else from venturing in the same way they did. [I]Drizzt[/I] I got off the bus to find that our "modern" campsite we were promised, was no more than a small cleared out area in the middle of the woods. A shower building sat up the hill a couple hundred yards up the road we traveled from. A single water collecting tower next to it sent the promise of hot running water out the window, and it seemed the others getting off the bus were as unimpressed as I am. [I]"Damn, what happened to all the modern comforts Allamorph promised?"[/I] You see, the basement cat himself had set the trip up for those who ventured in to his forum. Hopefully an explaination would come out of him, as soon as anyone could find him. He was the first one off the bus a moment ago, but where had he gone? A chilling howl could be heard in the distance; Nightfall seemed fast approaching. I turned to the bus in order to secure a couple others to venture in and find some firewood while the others got the tents set up. Hopefully they could beat the chilly fall night, hopefully..... An old time campfire ghost story written by OB members, about OB members. I'm sure we all played the game when we were younger, one person starts telling the story and at certain moments the next person in line "buzzes" themselves in and takes over. This is for people of all writing styles, though I think we should stick with first person to keep the "point of view" going. At the begining of every post, please do what I did and post your name above your post. As far as length, it really doesn't matter. Just when you get to a point that you want somebody else to jump in on just end your post with ........ I think to avoid somebody from jumping to far, or wasting a post we should go with 3-5 paragraphs. 2-6 absolute min/max, if we don't have many participants we can always adjust accordingly. No posting order, just try and leave time for everyone to post. Maybe try post every 2 days if we are getting a lot of people. This is a collab, so if you have any suggestions, feel free to post them on here so we can decide on rules....oh and as far as rules don't kill anybody off...right now...I'll work up a system for this later.

[CENTER][SIZE="4"][FONT="Arial Black"]THE GREAT OTAKU PROSE CONTEST[/FONT][/SIZE] Round 1 [SIZE="4"][FONT="Lucida Sans Unicode"][U][COLOR="Gray"]MR. M[/COLOR]A[COLOR="Silver"]UL[/COLOR][/U][/FONT] [FONT="Impact"]VERSUS[/FONT] [COLOR="Silver"]A[/COLOR]|[COLOR="Silver"]N[/COLOR]|[COLOR="Silver"]O[/COLOR]|[COLOR="Silver"]M[/COLOR]|[COLOR="Silver"]A[/COLOR]|[COLOR="Silver"]L[/COLOR]|[COLOR="Silver"]Y[/COLOR] [/CENTER][/SIZE] [CENTER] [SIZE="1"]Voting is open to ALL Otaku members except Mr. Maul and Anomaly. Voters, please state your vote clearly. Also, please give your reason for casting your vote the way you do. [COLOR="Red"]Voting will close on Friday, January 23.[/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] [SIZE="4"][FONT="Courier New"][B][U]The Challenge: The Rewrite[/U][/B][/FONT][/SIZE] Each contestant will write a short story. Each story should consist of between [SIZE="3"]200[/SIZE] and [SIZE="3"]600[/SIZE] words. For the essay, each contestant will pick a story that already exists and rewrite a scene from that story. This story can be a movie, book, video game, etc. Contestants may rewrite any scene or completely replace a scene with one of their own.

Genius. Madman. Self proclaimed sorcerer. Nihilist. British. Alan Moore is a man that is all these things...and so much more. Plainly put, Alan Moore is literally genius given human form. After you read his works, such as [I]The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen[/I], [I]Watchmen[/I], [I]V for Vendetta[/I], [I]From Hell[/I], [I]Swamp Thing[/I], and most recently, [I]Promethea[/I], you know that Moore is something beyond the normal comic book writer. He is a mad genius, and you can't help but be enchanted by his works. Moore is every writer's worst nightmare - after reading just a single issue of any of his works, you can't compare. Your stuff if child lit compared to his mad genius. Heck, I was lucky - I couldn't write anything for 4 months after reading Watchman. I know some people who were in a writing depression for a year...and more. Who else but Alan Moore could turn [I]Miracleman[/I], a campy super hero from the 60's, into a commentary on the relationship of superheroes and humanity? Superheroes are Gods in human form, and in the end, we humans are nothing to them. Miracleman shows us how superheroes would destroy everything of this world that we cherish...and what we hate. Before Moore, [I]Swamp Thing[/I] was a failing series. He turned it into a master piece that is still going on today, 20 years after he had left. So, this is just a place to discuss his works. And if you haven't read any of his stuff, what the hell are you waiting for?

Ice blue eyes. Eyes that never wavered. That's what Lidia remembered about her twin brother. He was a Captain in his father's army. The Devil with Blue Eyes is what the Fukau Lan called him. He'd never lost a battle in a war that had started before he was born. He was a genius. Then he was gone. Just like that. Sethia, Dad and Mom, too. It was called an 'assassination' by Fukow political saboteurs; but Lidia knew far better. The Families had always feared the Finch family. The General's(Father's) Red Marines were fiercely loyal to their beloved patriarch; perhaps even moreso to his bright son. The economy on Bismin had certainly seen better years. The Families weren't loved by anyone, wherever you went. Bismin's decaying brand of socialism was finally beginning to wither to the crumbling point. The people who went hungry in the streets outside of Bisminarch were crying now for change. And they saw hope in one man. Not Maxime Finch; no, not the aging General. But young and promising Captain Alexander Finch. They saw in him a messiah. For the love of the people, Lidia's brother is gone. But not yet. [B]One Year Earlier:[/B] [I]1600, 15MARCH. ABOARD THE RNS LIBERTANIAN; FLAGSHIP, 7TH FLEET.[/I] "Captain, respectfully." "Go ahead, Lt. Palmer." Finch responded without taking his eyes away from the forward viewport. "Space is empty, sir. There's nothing here. We've been sweeping the area for a week." Palmer spoke to his former bunkmate now as a superior, not a shipmate. "No. I know what it seems like, Palmer. Trust me. They're here. No other explaination for the sudden disapearance of the [I]Denizen.[/I]" "Sir, respectfully." Finch motioned for him to continue. "The [I]Denizen[/I] could have been ambushed by pirates. It happens in Wild Space all the time." "Are you serious?" At that Finch looked at his former bunkmate with one eyebrow raised. "The [I]Denizen[/I] is armed with nuclear warheads. I doubt any pirates would be able to stand toe to toe with a nuclear cruiser." Finch turned back to the viewport. "Fooks are all over this. And their still nearby." A few more moments passed by as the [I]Libertanian[/I] scanned nearby space. Just as Finch gave the order for darken ship, however, a scanner hit appeared. Then, the incoming projectile alarm sounded, and all hell consumed the ship. -Justin

[COLOR="DarkOrchid"][FONT="Times New Roman"][i]In the deep sleep she waited patiently as any good girl would. Cold and ice companions were her very own friends, with numb solitude that told her nothing. Her brother had put her there for her own safety and she remembered his hands lying warmly on her own as the ice rolled slowly down her cheeks.[/i] "This is the safest way for you to go. Soon things will kill everyone that doesn't sleep as you will. Rest now." [i]And without another word he was gone. He didn't tell her he loved her. His little sister knew he did; instinctively, as she'd lived most of her life. Not that she was very young, but she had always been irrational enough to be very frightened of things like her brother dying. Things like the the world pouring itself out in one angry sound. She couldn't see herself in a world without blood and rain. Perhaps when she woke from her dreaming and sleeping and waiting there would be blood. Running in rivulets down the melting ice as the seasons changed, streaking the gray and white with red. None of that though for her. Instead she saw dream lights flickering in green and blue, prancing around her now and again, and then whisking away like the insubstantial things without form that they were. She sobbed once in her thoughts, and then went back. Further back. Once her younger half brother had come to see her in her dreaming. She heard him speaking and incorporated his words into her dream automatically.[/i] "I knew this was a mistake. I knew coming to see you was a mistake." [i]The dream changed again and she saw him laughing as he went away, concealing his own sadness as his sister's empty prison remained the same. Her eyes weren't closed. Wide open and staring all unseeing in the same glazed yellow glow. Her hair clouded around her shoulders in a shadow of silver and black just as it had been when she'd walked under the stars. And the ribbons twined around thin braids still as bright as they'd been when she'd tied them on the morning she'd woken from her Blood dream. Where would she go and what would she do? Nothing to be done yet. Instead she laughed quietly to herself in the dream and haze. Quiet once more without her laughter, her younger brother watches her again from a safer distance. Too far for her dreams to sense and pull in together, but close enough for him to watch her unblinking eyes. The world was pulling itself apart and he wanted to see how his sister dreamed of it. Perhaps she wouldn't. The great movements of nations far above her didn't matter much. Put into perspective, she could live even without the blood of others. But her brother didn't want to live that way himself, and he didn't want the others that slept to find her when they awoke first. True minds could easily overcome hers. And at the same time she was so unlike them; perhaps it would never happen the way he feared. Perhaps she would merely continue to dream for an eternity and when the others awoke, they would leave her to that. After all, more than a few hundred had retreated down to the bottom of the earth to dream their way through the centuries of endless war. Linnett was the youngest vampire who had ever been put to rest in the great Antarctic and as such, her brothers could not see all ends. No young vampire had ever wanted to be put to the rest. It was entirely possible that she would emerge changed. Her dreams of the world above might even alter her mind. They could form something for her to wrap her incoherent and often scattered thoughts around. The longer she dreamed, perhaps the better things would become. Maybe if Linnett dreamed her way into the unforeseeable future she would awaken with a more stable mind. Capable of holding her own against the myriad of ancient vampires that would be sure to rise around her. But perhaps the dreams would push her further into the great darkness that she'd made an unsteady truce with. Her brother pulled himself away from the place where his sister dreamed and went home to the emptiness of his former home. His sister's eyes stared upwards continually into the dark ice that curved across her comatose form. Her half smile lay across her blue lips, with her fangs pressing against them. And the dreams went on.[/i][/FONT][/COLOR]

They were dead. His mother was dead, and his father was dead. They were dead, not because they did something wrong, but because they stood up for themselves against the wrong. And they were dead. Shot down in cold blood in front of him. It was like it happened yesterday. He watched as he stood there, his father muttering something he couldn?t understand, because his lungs were emptying their last breath. He watched as his fathers eyes turned cold. And as they turned cold, the young boy watching turned cold. His innocent heart hardened into stone. The love of his parents became anger and hatred. He would have his revenge. It would take him 25 years from that day, but he would have his revenge. It was raining outside the warehouse. A group of men entered the building, carrying umbrellas. There were five of them, and they walked into the warehouse wearing suits. They looked like typical businessmen, here to strike a deal with the owners of the warehouse to buy some of their fine goods. The warehouse was filled with large crates and boxes. The whole place stunk of wood and rain? and blood. These men were from the city mob, here to buy some weapons from this warehouse. They were met by a trio of men. They began to converse, to strike a deal for the goods. Money would be traded for weapons that would get them power. They would use this power to gain more money, and the cycle would continue. That is, until he intervened. ?So I hear Joe?s back in town. Did he have a nice vacation?? asked one of the buyers. ?Now you know the boss doesn?t like to mix business and his personal life.? responded the dealer. CRASH! Lighting struck outside, and with it the power went out. ?The fuck is this? You ain?t got no backup generator?? a buyer complained. He pulled out a lighter and lit it. Fluttering was heard coming from the ceiling. ?Probably just a goddamn bird. Hey! Go get some goddamn flashlights!? a dealer exclaimed. One of the three dealers walked off to go look. ?Man, you guys trying to pull some shit? Red doesn?t play games you know.? ?Hell, you guys decided to make a purchase during a thunderstorm. We ain?t pulling nothing? A scream was heard from the distance, and three shots were fired. ?Goddamnit!? What the hell!?? The lighter went out, and darkness plunged over the group. Along with it, came a fury of punches and kicks. A few shots were fired in the dark, lighting up a large, black creature. But this creature knew they could not see him, and therefore could not shoot him. He took them out one by one, until only one was left. One of the dealers stood there, shaking with fear. ?So tell me about your boss?? a raspy voice echoed through the warehouse. ?He?ll fucking kill you? I swear to god he?ll kill you!? the dealer shouted. ?Wrong answer? the voice replied. The dealer was dropped to the ground by a blunt object. He pulled out his gun, and let loose a barrage of bullets. He pulled the trigger again and again, until all that was left was the clicking sound. He sat there in the dark, paralyzed by fear. He knew he had wasted all of his bullets. ?Let me ask you again? tell me about your boss.? the voice demanded. ?I won?t tell you anything! Who the hell do you think you are!?? the dealer yelled out. Suddenly, he was pulled into the air by his leg. He flew up, and almost hit the ceiling, but stopped suddenly. There was just enough light from the moon outside to see a man?s face covered by a dark mask. The creature shouted out to him? ?Who am I? I?M THE GODDAMN BATMAN!?

Not many people know me by my real name. Hell, anymore I can't say I know my real name. Its been over 200,000 years since I've even heard my name uttered. Instead I'm known as the Reaper, Grim Reaper, and possibly my personal favorite Reaper of Souls. That last one was uttered for the first time when I was seen taking Alexander the Great so many years go. He receieved more attention then a certain man god who was killed for your "sins". Sins....that always makes me laugh. Even to this day, it seems so ludacris that you are given the right to do whatever you please and still get into heaven. Yet I still cart millions of souls to the underworld each year. Taking millions of people each year isn't very difficult. Not many people are sent off the old way. No mourning for days on end, then cremation, no its not done like that. I can just go to a funeral home, morgue, or even wait till the soul leaves the body when its buried underground; then its an easy grab the body and leave. No my job couldn't have been easier, that is until that fateful day. If the souls wait to long, they roam free and become a pain in my ass. They get the chance to run, and oh boy do they run. Even the ones who are going to heaven run, the earthly body you're given has such appeal to you. It would be so much easier if I didn't have to do all the leg work, if Satan and God would just fight it out. That's not what this story is about, no this story is about a group of people that call themselves "The Paladin Brotherhood". The self-righteous sons of bitches came about when i took their leader, that smug bastard named Isaac Paladin's father (yes he changed his name to Paladin to assert himself as leader, can you say full of himself?). Issac's family had an odd ritual of sitting with the body for days and days on end. I won't tell you how many nights until the soul wriggles free; you'll have to find that out on your own. Anyways, the whole family sat with the body for days and days on end. Finally I couldn't wait even a moment longer. I tried sneaking in when the familiy was asleep, but of course little Isaac was awake. He alerted the family to the "intruder", poor little bastard didn't realize the power that his "god" has given me. Right there I reaped the whole family, in front of Isaac's eyes to took his father, mother, brother, grandmother, and several cousins. I was all set to get that little bastard, but he snuck out during the fray and the one thing I can't do is find the living. I finally go the chance again when Isaac died 50 years later, little did I know that Isaac and his "brotherhood" had taken advantage of the technological advances of the early 2000's and created an artificial body for Isaac. When I went to reap him, his soul had wiggled out early and into that body. I had to fight him, needless to say I lost. Isaac tortured me for years inside his prison, he'd developed a whole arsenal of spirit world technology that held the ability to destroy. This is the story of my battle with Isaac and his brotherhood. The time in which there was no death, and mankind made its worst decision to date. They attempted to kill god himself......... Well this is the first installment of my short story "The Reaper". I'd be glad to hear what you think of it. I'm thinking its only going to be around 10-15 chapters. Each about as long as this one, if its well enough recieved I'll either put up the next installment. I'm thinking maybe a series of short stories.

[center][img]http://img263.imageshack.us/img263/8549/pkmnjk4.png[/img] [FONT="Palatino Linotype"][SIZE="3"][B]A FUTURE TORN[/B][/SIZE][/FONT][/center] [FONT="Times New Roman"][INDENT]Welcome to the world of Pokemon! A bright world full of opportunity and prosperity where humans and Pokemon live together in harmony. For hundreds of years Pokemon have been used mostly for good, their kind nature not easily corrupted. It seemed that as Jon, a young trainer from Cinnabar Island, was about to begin his journey as a Pokemon Trainer he would learn that Pokemon do not stay pure forever… [B]“Jonas! You’re breakfast!”[/B] a tall and lean boy with shaggy brown hair quickly pivoted on his heel and re-entered his tiny island house. He’d been living here for the past 6 years of his life with his Uncle Blaine, a Pokemon Professor and Cinnabar Island Gym Leader. Jonas had prepared and packed everything for the start of his own Pokemon adventure and was ready to leave without even eating his final breakfast with his uncle. [B]“Sorry, Uncle Blaine! I’m really excited. I hope I’m not late or I’ll have to wait another year!”[/B] Jonas sat down and scarfed down his toast. [B]“Not to mention that I want to get first pick!”[/B] Blaine chuckled and took a sip of coffee. A young Growlithe about half the size of a regular one slept quietly on the arm of the old man’s chair. [B]“You have nothing to worry about, m’boy. I’ve talked to Oak and he has ensured me that there will be a Pokemon at the lab waiting for you when you get there.”[/B] Blaine scratched behind the Growlithe’s ear and it yawned sleepily. [B]“You should be thankful. We live just a quick boat ride away from the Professor. Some trainers have to trek all the way from Fuchsia!”[/B] Jonas finished his breakfast by downing it with a glass of orange juice. [B]“You’re right, if I lived in Fuchsia I would have had to leave a week ago!”[/B] Jonas headed to the door followed by his Uncle to see him out. [B]“Well… good luck, Jonas."[/b] There was a moment of hesitation in his voice. [b]"You’ll make your parents proud, I know it.”[/B] Blaine hugged the young hopeful and waved goodbye. As Jonas reached the docks of Cinnabar Island he yelled to his Uncle. [B]“I look forward to winning that Volcano Badge from you! See you!”[/B] and with that the boat carrying Jonas started for Pallet Town. Blaine closed the door behind him and quickly turned very solemn. In front of him was a large humanoid Pokemon. [B]“It’s the only way.”[/B] it said. [B]“I know."[/B] The light gleamed in Blaine's glasses. [B]"I just hope he’s ready.”[/B] [B]"Here we are, kid. Pallet Town. That'll be 600 Pokebucks."[/B] Jonas pulled out a few bills with different Pokemon on them and paid the man. He got out of the boat and began walking towards Professor Oak's lab when something winded him from behind. Jonas fell to the ground and in an instant he was unconscious. When he opened his eyes everything was a blur. All around him was darkness except for a growing light in the distance. As his vision began to sharpen so did the light. It slowly formed the shape of a large four legged Pokemon with circuits running all through its skin. Jonas immediately recognized it as the legendary Pokemon of Time, Dialga. But what was it doing in Pallet Town? Or was he even still in Pallet Town...? Before Jonas could ask himself any more questions he blacked out once again. This time he did not awake so gently. Jonas jolted upright at the sound of what seemed like five Weezings all exploding at once. Looking around, Jon realized he was in some sort of man-made cavern. There was nothing but the bed he was laying on and a small piece of paper with three Pokeballs in the room. Picking up the paper he read it carefully. [quote]Dear Jonas Katsura, If you are reading this message then I have not made it. The world you are now in is the world you knew 30 years later. A lot has happened and I will try my best to fill you in although I am very pressed for time. A few years after you disappeared half of the Gym Leaders in Kanto revealed their true colours. Giovanni convinced Koga, Sabrina, Lance, Agitha and your Uncle Blaine to join Team Rocket, imprisoning all opposing trainers. With his new allies Giovanni was able to take control of Kanto, successfully cutting off all connections with the other regions. For many years the Pokemon and people of Kanto slowly corrupted becoming more and more evil. The people of the Johto, Hoenn and Sinnoh regions made many attempts to get to Kanto by air and sea but every time Kanto was within eye distance they were instantly teleported back to the shores of their home. You see, Givoanni has the assistance of a Legendary Pokemon named Mewtwo. They worked as partners to create a new Kanto. A decade passed and still many of us lived in hiding. Pokeballs of any kind were illegal without a permit and you only had a permit if you worked with Rocket. Three gym leaders, Brock, Bruno and Erika created catacombs and tunnels all throughout Kanto without Team Rocket knowing. You are in the entrance of the Pallet Town catacombs now. If you follow the cave into the darkness you will make it to where Erika is. She‘ll fill you in on everything else. I must go. [b]P.S.[/b] [I]Do not[/I] go above land. The Rockets will capture you and you‘ll never be heard from again. Good luck, Jonas. The future of Kanto is in your hands.[/quote] Jonas gently folded the note and stuffed it in his front pocket. Questions raced around his head. Did he really see a real live Dialga? Who wrote the note and how did they know he would end up in this cave? Was he really in the future…? And there was one other question. [I]What Pokemon are in these Pokeballs?[/I][/INDENT][/FONT]

[CENTER] [U][I][B][SIZE="4"]PROWRESTLING SONG[/SIZE][/B][/I][/U] From days of old Prowrestling its the oldest sport around. Quality sports entertainment before basketball and American Football was found. Andre the Giant the first big name. His awesome look brought him fame. Hulkster pinned him 1-2-3 That rocked the world for all to see. If your not a wrestling fan its all fake. but we know this thats what makes it great. Chorus Were bringing back prowrestling, we are starting a new craze. Now all say "What's up" together like The Truth says Style and profile like only Ric Flair can do. Oh Yeah let me hear that Woooo! Get Savage like the Macho Man and yell out OOOHHH YEAHHH. Say it loud and say it proud coz you know we just dont care. Wrestling fans are a unique breed. Blood and Pain on which we feed. Strut around like Double J. Keep on struting everyday. We're a passionate bunch of fans and together we unite Take Prowrestling to the top, wont go down without a fight The World Wrestling Federation made wrestling what it is. World Championship Wrestling almost put them out of biz!. Extreme Championship Wrestling they brought the Danger Factor. Sunny bluw Sabu off just after the WWF sacked Er. Total Nonstop Action revolutionized the sport. They're gonna make it number 1 thats what WCW thought. From the"Legend Killer" Randy Orton to the "Phenomenel" AJ styles. Undertaker the deadman walkin staright out of the x-files There will always be Icons from Bret Hart to Sting Many years from now you will hear their names ring round the wrestling ring. After ECW & WCW got Bought by World Wrestling Federation Vince renamed it World Wrestling Entertainment Don't say wrestling is fake You're gonna be in the wrestling Tribulation You mite see the wrestlers fight in the basement Do you have what it takes To step in the ring You better watch out cause wrestlers will hit your ding. WWE Fans say to the TNA fans Don't pout The Outsiders are Kevin Nash & Scott Hall We like to see wrestlers throwing each other into the wall. TNA Fans want to see the WWE fall. Chorus Do the Disco Fever like Disco Inferno can do Do the Curry Man Dance You can't stand a chance Do the Buff Bagwell Shuffle You better hurry Don't worry Don't mess with Kane You mite end up walking with a cane. Jean-Paul Levesque was his WCW name Hunter Hearst Helmsley's WWE name is The Game NWO for life Triple H made Stephanie McMahon his wife. You are just a pest So give it a rest You think that you are the best We will sent you running and crying all the way to you father's chest. Prowrestling isn't fair You are gonna see some one get hit by a chair From sea to sea. You better cross the line you'll mite get hit by a clothesline That's the bottom line cause the Wrestling fans said so.[/CENTER]

Fail- Let me fail, I'm in failing mood. Let me go far away. You always seem to say, "Your going to fail Josh, Get your butt in gear!" But im already failing, I have no fear. I've been failing for a while now, Falling farther from myself. The life I once had, Has gone down to hell. The innocence I had, Gone. My cockiness, Gone. My happiness, Gone. God let me die, Let me die, Let me fail life's test.

This how I would pretray myself. After I just brought the WWE without the WWE fans know it. On Monday Night RAW. In the Main Event. It was HHH VS VKM Jr. Kaimaster was sitting in the front row and hold a sign that reads WWE stinks and TNA Rules. They had enough of Kaimaster's TNA Pride. So they double team Kaimaster. VKM won the match. On ECW. Kaimaster replay the clip of the RAW. Then Kaimaster came on the screen and Kaimaster said, "ECW You were once great. Now you are a puppet for the Satan himself Vince McMahon." The screen went off. On Smackdown Kaimaster came on screen and said, "Shane McMahon your Green eye monster you called your father. He thought that WCW and ECW was bad when they join forces. I have strong group that he never ever encounter before." The screen went off. On Monday Night RAW Instead of the RAW music. You hear WCW Nirto song. VKM said, "What do you want from me. I know it's you Kaimaster. Come on out" Kaimaster come on screen and said, "When I fell better after you beat me to a plup. first off I want to address to all of the Entertainers from All three brands. Tomorrow on ECW." On ECW. All of the WWE Entertainers from all three brands was in around or in the wrestling ring. Vince,Shane,Stephanie & Linda McMahon they asked, "What's up with you. Why do you want us all be here for KAIMASTER?" Kaimaster said, "I just brought WWE now I have a big plans for WWE. I'll remake WWE into the wrestling should be." Vince said, "Wait uh min how did you buy the WWE under me?" Kaimaster said, "After you and you so called Son-in-law double team me. You wrote on a conact any body that VINCE KENNDY MCMAHON OR A FAMILY MEMBER HURT A WRESTLING FAN. THAT WRESTLING FAN GETS TO OWN THE WWE Until they die." Kaimaster went off the screen then came back on the screen. I almost forgot to tell you Vince. You have no respect for any wrestlers oops I meant to say you don't have any respect for any Entertainers. NOW IT'S A WAR. Any way Vince you can't trust any body in that ring right now.Kaimaster went off the screen.