《Whodunnit? Murder On Mystery Mountain》8 The Game Begins
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Sage sat on a hammock outside, reading a novel. She shivered as a gust of wind ripped through her and rustled the pages of her book. She had always loved to read, especially on nights like this, where the trees could be seen swaying in the distance. This job seemed just the sort of distraction she needed from life.
A sound rocketed her awake. Sticks could be heard snapping and leaves crunching, as Ethan Jackson stepped out of the trees. He saw Sage sitting in the hammock. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were out here." He was also holding a book. Her eyes lit up. "No no! Please. I love talking to other readers." She smiled. He joined her and they began to read together.
Ethan was way out of his element. Never in a million years, would he choose to come to a summer camp. He did not do bugs and he certainly did not do straight people. They talked for some time. "At least I know I have someone here. The others seem..." he trailed off. "Too perfect." She finished for him. "And you, you look perfect too though!" They laughed together. "How fucking pathetic I must be, to not want to be like them." Sage again laughed.
* * * * * * * * * *
Jericho dipped one foot into the water below. The lake was freezing. "Should I?" He turned to Sherman and Jaclyn, who were with him. "I mean I could just jump." He shrugged. Jaclyn shook her head. "Way too cold. You'll get frost bit." She looked for approval from the Italian man. Sherman was too busy staring at Jericho's abs to pay attention. "Yeah, what she said." He said as Jericho threw himself into the water. "Too late!"
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That's when Sherman smelled something burning. He sat up. "What is that smell?" He looked over at Jaclyn, who also looked up at the sky. It seemed to be coming from the top of camp. Jaclyn picked up her towel. "Well I'm going to check it out, you guys coming." She said, eyeing the two guys. Jericho stuck his head out of the water. "It's probably nothing, but I guess so."
They found themselves running up the hill toward the top of camp. The smell of smoke was getting stronger. Sherman covered his nose with his shirt. As they rounded one of the paths, they ran into Cole, Zayne, and Greer. The woman was covering her mouth in a silent scream. Audrey and Phillip rounded the corner next. Jericho gasped at the sight before them. They heard feet running. Sage, Ethan, and Brooklyn came into sight.
Giles and Lana were already standing at the top of camp. In front of them, a large fire was reaching towards the sky. The flames were masking a figure, a person was in the fire. Calvin and Summer ran onto the scene and Summer screamed. The person in the fire was Trinity Garrison and she was now just a burning corpse. Giles looked around at all of the faces. The game had begun.
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Until You Do It Right
The world ended on December thirty-first of the year two thousand and twenty, precisely at the stroke of midnight. The human race began to be systematically exterminated by the spawn of the System. We were given a chance to defeat them, to take back our place at the top of the food chain. We failed. The first to perish were those who bravely rebelled. The soldiers. The defenders. One by one, they fell. In their final moments, they begged for aid. Nobody replied. The next to succumb were those who feebly cowered. The deniers. The leeches. Together, they fell. In their final moments, they cried out into the darkness. Countless voices replied in kind. The last to decline were those who shamelessly ran. The deserters. The cowardly. Alone, they fell. In their final moments, they whimpered quietly. There was nobody left to answer. The final human to die was a survivor. A runner. As he died, he begged for salvation. His prayers were answered. He was offered a chance to save himself, along with all of humanity, and he took it. This is his story. “I sat in the dark and thought: There’s no big apocalypse. Just an endless procession of little ones.”― Neil Gaiman, Signal to Noise. I am absolutely new to writing and will take any and all constructive criticism. Please give feedback, it is greatly appreciated. I will update the tags as they change, and I hope that you enjoy this little story I'm writing! Quick warning: Seamus is intentionally a flawed character, and this story is going to explore those flaws and perhaps even change a few of them. I do not agree with all of his actions, but it is what it is.
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Ars Magica
Our vision comes back into focus. Our eyes, while being able to perceive the immediate surroundings, still leave us with our minds uncomprehending towards what is actually occurring. Sure, there are definitive things that we can focus on, like the fact that we're either out upon the open sea or the open ocean, there not being much of a difference with no land in sight, as well as the fact that we appear to be upon a haphazardly constructed metal boat, whose seams are barely able to keep a hold of themselves in the crashing waves. However, that does not let us understand what exactly is causing the waves in the first place. If we were to rewind time, we'd find ourselves upon a calm sea under a peaceful sky with the only difference, being a small whirlpool that would be the precursor towards this uproar around the boat. Lightning flashes in the sky, with no clouds being near, and anyone actually manning the boat has either died towards the cause of the smashing tides in the first place, or are fighting amongst the flashes of lightning, all while trying not to become devoured, demolished, and utterly decimated by the beast roiling in the whirling waves. To better understand exactly what is happening here, there is one singular event that needs to be understood, that needs to be explained, and that is the arrival of a creature named Dave. Stepping back from current events and going towards this creature's first appearance in the world, we begin to hear the sound of water slowly dripping across rocky ground. The cavern is utterly silent except for this one constant, its cause feeding channels downwards, sloping towards cracks in the rubble along the floor from broken stalagmites and stalactites. And there, lying on top of something which had fallen over recently, judging from its cracks, is a person, the creature named Dave. His form is fast asleep, either from the impact or from an intoxication, judging from the smell upon its breath. A bright light suffuses into it for a second, giving life towards the pale skin, before it slowly dies down back to the comfortable black of the cave that it's within. Before this moment in time, Dave did not exist in the physical world. At least, not in the reality that he finds himself born into. We do not know whether or not his existence is simply a cosmic joke, or something that is being played out on purpose. All that we do know, is that one moment, the body was not in the cave, and simply formed in the next. The actual earliest time that we know Dave exists, is the interpolation of the memories of J-209, which we'll begin looking into shortly to gain context towards the coming narrative that is being written and hastily trying to keep itself written. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Warning: This story has several things which might turn its readers away. The first is that this story has shifting points of perspective. Don't worry about that previous sentence too much though, as the main character will always have a first person perspective associated with them. However, any other character from which we're viewing the story from will either be in third-person, as we are not necessarily in their shoes at the moment, or in first person, given that the narrator is an actual physical presence within the story. For the most part, chapters will be self-contained with their perspectives, so there will not be an abundance of switching perspectives within the same chapter. The most that an average reader would have to worry about is the fact that perspectives can switch between chapters. The second thing is that the main character is a bit on the 'special' side of things. He's not exactly mentally there most of the time, so there will be some times that his personality or his thoughts do not actively align with his actions. The third, and final thing of importance, is the fact that past the first couple of chapters, nothing has been planned in advance. There are arcs and plots that I want to do, want to implement, or have already been set into motion from our main character's introduction to the world, but the method that I use for my story writing and generating leads towards a bit more random chance being enabled. Basically...there's a lot of dice rolling behind the scenes. To not complicate the story further than its regular LitRPG elements, the rolls will not be publicly available. However, there will be knowledge within the author's notes on whether or not there were positive or negative critical rolls that had occurred within the chapter. You have been warned. Updates: Mondays & Fridays (Schedule permitting) Typical Chapter Length: (2,000-3,000)
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Isaac is a runaway slave who joins the Nasaaran army in hopes of figuring out why he dreams of a city he's never been to and achieving his grander ambitions. The drums of war beat once again after 20 long years of peace. For some it's an opportunity for revenge for the blood shed all those years ago, for others it's another disheartening decision in a line of terrible decrees from an inept king, and for us it's an opportunity to escape the chains that bind us down and search for where we belong in this world and for what purpose do we keep breathing. But should you follow your dreams if they're drenched in the blood of others? What if we follow them regardless knowing the inevitable consequences? "Every night I dream the same dream. What does it mean? Where will it lead me? And for what purpose do I have this dream? I don't know. All I know is I need to get out of this barn." Current release schedule is Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday at 1:06 PM PT. [This novel is also being published on Scribble Hub]
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