Starting a Story Writing Thread.

So uh this thread is for people to write stories!
Make sure it's up to EMC's rules and if it does contain foul language please put a /spoiler.

I'll start: This story is called "Seven isn't always so lucky."

It was cold. The hairs on the back on my neck stood up as the operation unfolded.
The operation... is difficult to explain, but I'll try my best.
Seven years ago, this... madness all started.
Seven long years.
It was Friday on a chilly summer evening. I'd just got home from work when I checked my computer for emails. I saw I had 5; 4 from spam sites, and one from my friend at work.
I work as a engineer for work, so I assumed it was a new project he wanted to get approved by the boss.
After I opened and read the email, I found it was... an invite to an expedition?
Why would he do this? I hate the jungle. It's so unlike home, it's surreal. But, I decided to go anyways. Worst Mistake of My Life. Ever. I had gotten kidnapped by the tour guides along with my friend and forced to work on weapons and maps... Maps for Hidden Technology by the ancients. That's how the last seven years have gone so hastily. But as the operation went on further without any chance of success in sight, I knew. I knew this wasn't the right place, and the last seven agonizing years had been for nothing. Nothing, at all. I lost everything I had, and my sense of hope and willpower. Nothing would keep me going.... Nothing.....

Once upon a time, there was an ugly barnacle. He was so ugly everyone died. The end.
I stole that story from you guys hehehe :]

There was once a man named Vincent. He worked as a copyright claims lawyer for a corporation known as Viacom. He was a very important man who had his own very important office. This very important office had a very important chair and a very important desk; which itself had some very important papers, photos, and most important of all: a very important computer which ran very important programs which themselves accomplished very important very specific tasks. Vincent was very important man because the Copyright Claims department was a very important to Viacom. Viacom rigorously enforced each and every one of their copyrights, of which they had many. Every single copyright was very important to Viacom, and they had a very large amount of copyrights. Viacom, you see, was a very important company who did very important things. They made sure each one of their important things had a very important copyright on it. They made sure they had a lot of very important people to make sure these very important copyrights remained how they should be. The found people who used the very important copyrights and punished them for not being important enough to use them, and for trying to make Viacom less important.

This is the story of a man who goes by the nickname Brickstrike. He was arguably important, in some regards. There was a particular forum called Empire Minecraft where he was very important. However, he was nowhere near as important as Viacom, or their Copyright Claims department, Vincent, and all of those very important copyrights. Brikstrike tried to go onto the forum where he was very important, only to find it inaccessible. He blamed it on the Internet and did other less important things. What he didn't know was that he had used a very important copyright the day prior, and the site had been totally obliterated because it was less important than Viacom. Nobody ever had fun again, the end.

There once was a man named Stanley...

Oh, I love stories! I'll contribute for sure.

Silence of Leanach

Far in antiquity there existed only two in the world: Aileach the Warmth and Unyielding Oriel. Aileach sighed and on her breath rode the seeds of the first life. As the seeds sprouted and grew, Oriel shaped and moulded them with his hands; creating tall majestic deer, great fearsome bears, and bright fluttering birds. Time went on and Aileach and Oriel grew alongside their creations, until they were indistinguishable from the land itself. As Aileach felt herself seep into the soil she felt one last seed buried deep within the earth. Using all her godly willpower she compelled the seed to grow and burst free from the earth that held it, and as it did a new shape took form. A tall fair woman now stood among the trees, wind gently billowing her black hair about her face. Bright gold eyes peered around the forests and mountains about her and Aileach began to sense a difference that separated this creation from all her others. The woman could feel the elation of that first breath she took, she could stand in awe at the world made around her and wonder at her own being. Oriel, too, sensed this new creation and gathered overhead as a dark storm. Upon seeing this creature that he had not shaped a terrible fury took him. How could something so lovely, so unique from the other creations have come into being with out his aid? He gathered up the air about him and the storm clouds turned as black as the abyss, lightning scythed through the sky towards the woman while driving rain and hail pelted her to her knees. Aileach gave an agonizing scream and bid the earth to protect her creation. Great mountains shook the earth violently as they rose swiftly around the woman, blocking the lightning while massive trees bent and twisted to stave off the rain. Centuries passed with the two creators locked in a deadly conflict that mutilated the once beautiful land. Aileach was devastated by the destruction of her world and in one final push shook the earth so violently that thousands of tons of rock fell upon Oriel's storm and trapped him and it deep within the bowels of the world. The effort deeply taxed Aileach and she knew she was dying. In her final breathe she went to the woman, whom she had kept hidden away all this time and spoke the first words ever uttered:
"You are Leanach. May this land be your citadel. May these cliffs stay the lightning and rain ever more."

And with that Aileach passed soundlessly into the world beyond and as she did the first flowers sprouted from the soil. White lilies on red red roses forming the word An Diadan.

Oriel felt the passing of his companion and the great creator wept miserable tears of guilt. He had not loved Aileach but he remembered those first days lost in the mists of the past where they shaped and became the world and he felt a pang of great loss. Oriel realized he had done a great wrong and vowed deep in his heart to seek redemption. Thus he looked to Leanach and spoke from his prison in a voice like rolling thunder:
"Little Leanach, I've destroyed something sacred to both of us. With all the power I can put forth from the tomb I reside in I pledge to protect you and your kin for every year they draw breath."

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Goodness this has gotten long, I'd hate to bore you all or take up precious forum space. If you want me to continue let me know.

So here is a kind of nerdy thing I wrote once. Edit: Nothing bad in either of these. I just put them in a spoiler to keep the thread neat.

I watch the glow of my cigarette burn out as I stand on the edge of the bridge. My crew is becoming one of the most successful in the country; in fact, our crimes have gained us so much money we can retire before we hit thirty. But the thrill of a loaded gun is too damn strong. So strong that the four of us are moving into the city said to be the home of the Devil himself. Everyone keeps warning us not to come here, but my crew, we're too damn stubborn. So here I stand by the car parked on the edge of the bridge that leads into the Devil's city watching my cigarette burn out.

We just met with out new boss. In this city you can't just come in fresh; you have to have a boss, at least for a little bit. I have met with him once before now, and neither times were a pleasant experience. The boss is a small, obese man with an off-putting facial deformity. Every time he looks at you, you get the feeling he is staring into your soul. He has seen your kind before; he knows your not going to make it in this city, so he doesn't have time for you.

The boss tells us he has a trial job before we come onto his crew for good. He makes a big show of telling us how this will be no big deal because we are obviously such expert criminals. All we have to do, he says, is break into a building and get a couple of briefcases worth of documents from a safe. No big deal; get in, get out.

I stand on a random street corner to watch darkness come. I always find a simple adrenaline rush in watching the sun set, yet seeing the streets around me stay bright as day. But I am always pained when I look into the night sky and can't see the stars because of the light. After night has come, I begin to walk around the city to clear my head for tomorrow's job. The city is dying. It hit it's boom in the 30s and everything about the architecture reflects that. But now the city is a rotten corpse attracting the flies of crime. I hear William Blake's London in my head.

I wander thro' each charter'd street,...

And mark in every face I meet

Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,

In every Infants cry of fear,

In every voice: in every ban,

The mind-forg'd manacles I hear...

But most thro' midnight streets I hear

How the youthful Harlots curse

Blasts the new-born Infants tear

And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

My crew and I drive to the building. I hold both of my pistols just to appreciate the weight – the weight of a life is in my hands. And how much does a life weigh? Just a few pounds, it seems. We've already changed into our typical robbing attire; we wear suits and ties to commit crimes. Not like these damn criminals today who don't know how to make a statement; we're like the high-class criminals of old. Suits and custom red masks: they are made of plastic, fit to out face, and wrap all the way around our head. Before we arrive I take my mask off to slip earbuds into my ears.

The car stops and we exit. Suddenly the world comes alive and everything takes on more meaning. I smell the hint of Spring entering the air; I smell the filth of the city. My eyes penetrate further into the dark; the shadows in the alleys become blacker. In front of me I see a three story factory that has been converted into an office building. I put Thursday's Subway Funeral on loop, and we begin.

I know something is wrong when I hear Three, who went to disarm the alarm, scream in the distance. One scream, two gunshots, silence. Two, Four and I spread out across an open room full of cubicles. Finally we will experience a real challenge.”Well boys, it appears that the Devil has come to greet us. Put a bullet in his head!” One single light in the center of the room bleeds shadows onto the wall. Then a shadow reaches out and grabs Two and pulls him back into the darkness. One scream, one gunshot, silence. Then the shadow takes Four. I open fire this time. One scream, five gunshots, silence. “Come on, man! I am the only one left. Why don't you come face me in the light like a man.” Out of the corner of my eye I see movement, so I run.

I run through halls and up stairways, firing at everything I see. I run onto the rooftop. Spinning back and forth with both pistols drawn, I feel blood rushing in my ears. My heartbeat pounds my entire body.
Then the darkness in the shape of a bat lands in front of me. I still seem to be moving in slow motion, but it is moving at regular speed. I don't have time to fire a single shot before he breaks both my wrists, picks me up and throws me. As my body smacks against the rooftop, time returns to normal, and everything hurts. Oh god, everyone was right; the Devil himself watches over Gotham.

And here is another short thing.

“To die: to sleep;

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil;

Must give us pause.”

Hamlet (3.1.64-98)

I once heard someone say that the only reason we know that we were ever asleep is that we wake. And with the morn comes the fading of dreams and the death of beauty and hope; for when do we see something more real, beautiful, terrifying, tragic, and random, than in the cover of the Moon? Yes, truly, the Sun is a murderer; condemning the masses to a life of dull mediocrity, and censoring their terror and sadness that they truly need, and stripping them of their true names till they do not know how any of them are different from their brother.

But what if everything was stuck between morning and night? In what I assumed to be the dawn, I awoke. Walking outside showed me how wrong I was, for over the land was a fog so dense I could only see a few feet in front of me. At the edges I could see shadows of hay bales, and, as I continued to walk, I saw shadows of houses; but no people did I see. Maybe days, maybe years past, until all that was left was fleeting, distorted lies; these memories stayed at the edge of the fog, fleeing as I grew closer. Faces of the past, present, and future became shadows in front of me before dissolving into the fog. Every shadow became a monster before transforming into a ghost of someone long gone leaving me with despair. I am both asleep and awake at the same time, or more correctly, neither awake nor asleep. All I have left are these distorted memories, but what happens when I forget them? Will only the fog remain?

Yes, you should continue.

Omg that was a great story! Please continue C:

As requested, a continuation

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Leanach heard Oriel's vow and while she believed him to be sincere she resolved to gain some measure of control on his great power to prevent him from turning on her. So Leanach walked calmly out of the haven Aileach created for her, looking very much like a single puny insect in a great vast empty world, and called out to Oriel in a clear calm voice.
"Mighty and terrible Oriel, you took from me my protector Aileach and now swear yourself to take her place? I am not a suspicious creature, but even still treachery seems to appeal to you far too much for me to trust your word alone."

A great rumble of thunder shook the earth from deep inside itself and Leanach feared Oriel would burst free from his confinement and simply smite her where she stood. However eventually the tremors subsided and Oriel's voice again filled the sky.
"What would you have of me Leanach?"

Leanach pondered for a moment, cleared her throat daintily, and told Oriel:
"You will do only what I say, when I say. Only then can I be assured of my safety in your care."
A few minutes passed before Oriel responded and when he did he sounded subdued, more like a rain cloud then a thunder storm.
"I will do this for the memory of Aileach. What do you wish of me little Leanach?"
She turned to gaze at the scarred landscape about her, black hair splayed out in a halo as she turned. Then locking her golden eyes on the horizon she gave a grin.
"First. Make me a city."

Margaret stretched and placed her textbook spine up on her rather small desk and glanced about the class. Mostly everyone was still reading the myth with varying degrees of intent while a few sat idle much like Margaret herself. She gazed up at the white board and studied the picture projected there with new appreciation. The tall woman with her arms raised must be Leanach she told herself and the storm framing her, Oriel. She shuddered slightly as she looked towards the bottom of the picture. Men lay scattered about like dolls owned by an unruly child, broken swords and discarded armour littered the blackened field on which they stood. One particular man in the corner, the artist had captured a look of pure abject terror on his face. It was the face of a man who knew he was not going to see morning.

The bell rung, it's blaring tones tearing her away from her musings. As she gathered up her books and headed out the classroom she heard a shout and a girl with brilliant red hair drawn back in a long braid ran to her side.
"Hey Margaret!" she said, still shouting.
"Oh, hey Rosi," Margaret replied, a thin smile on her lips.
"Margaret" the red-haired girl said in mock seriousness "We've talked about this, my name is Rosmarin. You can't nickname me as you please." She gave a dignified flip of her braid as she spoke. Margaret scoffed at her friend and continued out the door of the school into the dull sunlight outside. Rosmarin skipped slightly as she walked, babbling about various nonsense on the way to Margaret's house. They always did their homework there, well more like Margaret did their homework there.

Sure enough, soon after they'd placed their bags down Rosmarin turned to Margaret.
"Hey did you get through that story in class today? Leanne and Orville or something?"
"Leanach and Oriel, Rosi."
Rosmarin shrugged innocently.
"Yes I did read it. Did you?"
Another shrug.
"Fine, what do you need to know?"
Rosmarin brought out a completely blank question sheet. "Everything."

As Margaret recounted the myth Rosmarin scribbled furiously away at the questions until only one remained.
"What would you do if you could command Oriel like Leanach?" Read Rosmarin in her best impression of a professor with a stuffed nose. "What did you put?"
Margaret looked down at her sheet she had left that one blank, not knowing what to put.
"I dunno Rosi, what would you do?"
Rosmarin sprang to her feet and said in a deep voice.
"I'd go: Oriel! Go do my homework!" she sat down again laughing,
Margaret joined her, the vison of a dark storm cloud doing arithmetic was if anything ridiculous.
"So what would you do?" Rosmarin peered at her expectantly.
"Oh I'd just make him-" Margaret began but was cut short by Rosmarin waving her hand.
"You have to act it out!"
Sighing in recognition Margaret climbed to her feet and raised her arms like Leanach in the picture.
"Oriel I command you to... blow up the school!"
The girls had another fit of laughter at the joke and then Rosmarin glanced out the window.

While it had been cloudy before the sky now was as black as night, dull booms of thunder could be heard while small arcs of lightning jumped all across the sky.
"Hey, what's up with the weath-" Rosmarin started.
A voice that shook the entire city, the entire nation cut her off.

"As you command, little Leanach."

The girls stared as the school exploded in lightning, every brick that had made the place reduced to nothing more than ash. A crater the size of an inverted stadium was the only monument that the building had ever been there.

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Well, that's about all the writing I have in me tonight. Might make more if you guys want. But yeah, hope you enjoyed!

This is starting to get interesting!

Amazing story again haha it sent chills down my spine

In the forest, the great forest,
hidden secrets surround the grove,
Many by nature, huge by define,
secrets that hate and love,
secrets that are alive,
Some live long, centuries even,
but others are short on time.
Of Secrets of Eden.
In the forest, the great forest.

Time is a nature of quality. Endless but with end. What if time, was like space?
It'd would be spread out, all moments colliding with one another.
;3 Time is needed for life...

Hey I have a question..I want to write a dramatic story probably on warfare. Can someone give me ideas so I can start/make the story? :3 thanks!