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If members of the community can remember, I am quite the avid writer and actually have tons of stories that are only partially finished, poetry among other things. Rather then creating a ton of separate topics for every story, I will compile them all in this topic for public criticism. So enjoy, my collected works and whatever else I write.

Black Wind Tower Crest
The winds lashed at me harder and harder by the second as I began to climb the vicious rise to eternity.

"The deleted are Everywhere"

A message plays back and fourth in my mind. Focus fades and merges with the delusions of reality as I climb this narrow road, this road that leads to the future.

"You can not avoid them, only know naught of thier lies"

Repeating. Repeating forever more in my abyss of a universe. Even so, I climb for freedom.

"They will stop you. They will beat you. They will kill you"

Words from an forgotten time. Words that now hold no meaning reach into my mind as I approach the peak, to the tower of my forefather.

"Reality is a lie. Your life is a lie. Romance-quese enters the void and seeks a Fallen Night"

The words began to spin in an unrelenting fashion, forming a stylized truth that is blurred with those lies that my forefathers believed in so.

"Crimson king on the farther plains, seek salvation among the deleted"

These lies, brought fourth from the tower that lies directly ahead. Is this real? I ponder but frankly do not care. The Tower is my goal, nothing more.

"Children of Folly, seek you fate amon the deleted. For I have seen and the romance-quese thoughts, and I know they lead to damnation"

Die. A neutral thought without any power to it; Yet a power still emanates from it. I begin ro run up the final bluff.

"Fall and SEE THE FATE!"

The voice screams as it feels me come closer yet. The steel square tower has a door within and a spiral staircase rises up to top. I begin my race upon the tower.


A radio crackling, forever repeating demands and lies of a bygone time. In a small rusted room with windows that overlook all of the fallen lands and the shattered sky so far overhead, I raise my hand and hit the switch to turn the station off. Smiling in all of my vainity, I walk to the window and think to myself: 'What a wonderful world', as the world slowly dies arround me.

Crimson Prince of the fallen sky
Chapter 1
It was.... A Vivid Nightmare

Crimson light streamed down crushing anything and everything. Such a beautiful light....

Within moments, the world I called home was turned into a void nightmare, almost as if we had demanded God's wrath upon us.

We probably deserved what happened. Our cities robbed the hold of life in the earth and our spears arced to and through.

Even so... Why did the skies shatter into infinite fragile pieces of glass on that fateful day. Why had the very thing we had trusted turned against us so? There is no answer to this question. As such, As the lone survivor of that tragedy, as the lone sinner on that crimson void, I have begun my sorjun. For what lies in the dark for the son of the king? For what evils had we spilled upon the earth in our foolishness? None can say. But I can spare this one thought of why, of why the arch of shattered red glass had fallen to earth and destroyed it so well.

The prophecy of the dead king's return from the void.

A story told to children to scare them in line, that may hold much more fact than fiction. Could this legend be the reality that has spread across this world? I can not say.

However, since that day I have ceased to be the prince Aries Mar. I am Crimson of the Fallen Skies and I shall wander untill this world is right once more. Til that time, I will continue to keep my crusade for the truth, and my righteous purpose to destroy the source of the end.

The source that killed my crimson void of a world, twisting its harsh industrial beauty into a bleak wasteland.

Rising to my feet, I see an angel arc overhead, only to flicker its holy light into the dust of the sunset. An angel.... The remant of what once was. "It is time to go." I mutter to myself in a dejected manner. Kicking the rubble into my camp fire, I watch it paint its last colors to be seen by this earth ever again. Turning to the road paved by stone and coated in soot, I resume my long sorjun once again.

Chapter 2 -partial- (Never Finished)
2//Phantom of the Valley of Ruin

-It has been 15 years since that fateful day...-

The sky-dust crunched underfoot as I made it to the brim of the valley, overlooking the desolate valley bellow. The wind lashed some of the sky-dust at my leg, but due to the Weis clothing I wear, not a single speck cut through. The burnt out caravan in the distance disinigrated into the gust, destroyed by the deadly sky-dust. Sky-dust, sharper than carbon steel,it has been the worse plague upon this planet ever since that day. That day....

-Ever since then, I have been walking down this highway, looking for lost answers...-

Arcing above an angel flies out of the void inbetween the sky and lands about a four Tines away. "Wanderer, doust thou knoweth what lieth within of this hallow?" A question spoken so softly, so softly that I barely can hear it escapes the lips of the glowing being, "'Fraid not, Void Liner. Tell me what lies in this valley." I nod my head roughly towards the small steel dome home down the valley's path in the distance. "Ah, so thee has dealt with mine brethren before, hath ye naught?" The green glow from the angel wavered ever so quickly with this discovery. "Yea, I've dealt with you damn Voiders every so often. So tell me, what is so important about this valley." The angel's face stiffened and his eyes slowly changed from a glowing blue to a dark shade of indigo. "Verily well. Listen true, child of fallen sky."

"Within therin, lie a phantom of thine void and of your world. Within him carries a blacker beast yet, descent of the cursed darkness that lieth farther beyond thy void, of which I calleth mine home still. Careful, ye must be, or else thy shall learn of the lands of death sooner than naught." This caught my attention at the mention of the 'cursed darkness'. "Are you telling me this damn phantom is possessed by an demon?" I turned and focused all of my attention upon the Void Liner, trying to focus all of my presence upon him. "Mayhaps so, Mayhaps naught." Finishing with this cryptic statement, the angel of the void turned and began flaying its silver wings back and fourth, doing so until it made flight and began flying towards one of the rifts in between the standing sky. "Damn void liners... Never give enough information when it counts..."

Muttering Darkly under earshot, I turn towards the valley once again. They say it is bad luck to curse an angel, but what type of angels the void liners are, I be dammed if I know. Void Liners, beings that look like angels except for their eyes being a solid color and strange colors almost like tattoos covering their bodies, defiling their other wise silver skin. The only two similarities I see on all of them, both male and female is that they always strike me as insanely beautiful and the strange loose fitting robe they wear, always midnight black. They are just one of the mysteries that appeared from the void beyond the fallen sky, the void 'in-between the cracks' as I have taken a liking to saying as of late.

-Just surviving in the land of the fallen sky...-

The valley looked no where as menacing as the Void Liner made it out to be, but I decided to take his warning with a grain of dust as I slowly walked down the highway leading into the valley. After about twenty minutes of walking down the black highway, the steel dome came closer until it became truly a part of my desolate reality. What was amazing about this dome, was that there seemed to be a barrier in between it and the sky-dust of the outside. The Barrier itself was not amazing, for I've seen people create them before for thier settlements as such, but the fact of how remote this dome is, it striked me as odd. The Dome had not a single bit of rust on it, which was even more strange. It stuck me as if the thing was brand new, even!

From within the shelter I hear noises of an being within there. Drawing my sword from its sheath, I walk towards the entrance awaiting the phantom that the Void Liner had warned me of, only to see not a phantom, but an elderly man. "Surely this must be a mistake..." I whisper into the wind. It has to be! I've never heard a Void Liner utter a lie before, even if they do speak in riddles time to time. The man looked at me strangely, his deep lined face contrasted to his bright yellow robe. "Well, young one. How may t'is one help you?" A Binklon accent escapes his tired lips, a strange thing indeed when Binklon was a good 500 quins from here.

Chapter 1 Alternate (A re-write three years later)
1// Crimson Prince among the shattered Ruins

Red light meets the abyss in a flaming light from above. Reality and fiction meet and collide, creating a bloodied light that shines with beauty within the death it causes. A flicker of electricity and a flash of the light, soon only one would shine true.

"Tis this my reality?" A question spoken without an answer. Even as I watched, the Void that separates the sky from the earth slowly began to break. Shattering down, as one would see a glass plane do perhaps, it felled the towers of Terra Mar with a great crashing and forging of dust and sky. The wrath of an unseen god still pours out upon the wicked, it seems.

The skies cracked and falling, revealed a darker void yet behind the brilliant pillars of broken shards, darker than the midnight sky. This was a darkness that terrified my very soul more than the rain of deadly sky shards that spelled death for the world known to man.

Grabbing for my sword, only to drag it along with the weak hands of a child, I run out of the palace among the others. In this nightmare, even a child could run freely as those others flee with no selfless thoughts at all forming inside their minds. Looking above me, I see a massive sky shard falling towards the palace, reflecting our useless efforts to evade the result, our folly as it took place.

Falling to my knees, I cry out a prayer as the shard approaches ever indiscriminately, my sword loosely clung to by my left hand. Suddenly, hands of strength lift me and carry me through. Clearing my tears with my left hand, I see that it is the vassal known Mersi carrying me. "Hurry Lad. We still have time yet." He rushes me onwards, a beacon of hope that seconds before had not existed. Looking upwards, I see the shard a few feet up above breaking and destroying the palace around me.

"NOT ENOUGH TIME! DAMN IT!" Mersi cries out an battle roar, and thrusts me into the darkness of safety within a small entrance to the lower dungeons. "HURRY BOY! RUN!" with this spoken, the steel doors are slammed closed by his hand and Mersi disappears into the nightmare of the outside. I rise to my feet and began running, my sword clanking along the steel plated floors. A scream and the sound of tearing metal marks as the funeral for the Vassal known as Mersi, as I continue my escape to the lower dungeons.

After running down three fleets of stairs, I come to an steel security door without any power flowing within it, which I settle my back against it and brace myself against my sword. The earth continues to shake as the sky shards continue their one minded goal of shredding and twisting the industry of man into a stark phantom of what it was.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, the earth completed its insanity and came to an rest upon the axis of time. Opening my eyes, I found light streaming down above a trickle of red sand through an metal hole torn asunder by the sky shards. Rising to my feet, I approach this hole with my sword dragging behind me, carving a rut through the softened steel. Slowly, I began climbing through this hole, bit by bit using my sword as a support for many of the ledges. Finally, I found my self in the first hallway I ran down after Mersi pushed me through. Walking towards the opening at the end of the hall carefully stepping around the rubble, my eyes not prepared for the sight my eyes would see.

As I left the metal tomb, I entered into a new world much different from the one I was born into. The mighty palace of Terra mar was gone, left with only few steel beams jutting out of the ground, a reminder of what it once was. Staring upwards towards the skies, I saw a lonely void of darkness cracking around the red skies of the distant sunset. It looked as if the sky had dropped pieces of it upon the earth and the rest stood tall, with an infinite black void spotting from beyond the missing pieces. My eyes darted to the earth and saw the result of the sky shards was it being ground into an never ending amount of red sand, sand that cracks like glass as I slowly walked among it, my feet sinking ever so slightly into it, my sword carving a deep rut into it.

Turning to the overlook of the city bellow, my eyes were cursed with the sight of a wasteland that stretches to the far edge of the distant fallen sky. The city was destroyed and buried underneath an sea of red sand. Bending down, I brush off my shoes of sand only to see blood trickle fourth from the tips of my fingers. The sand was as sharp as glass, or so it seemed to me. "A world of glass..." Simple words with such a poisoned meaning. I turn around only to find a highway of stone that was not there before the fall of the skies, was rising out of the red sky-sand. Finally it settled, marring the wasteland with a black snake that stretches across an eternity.

Walking towards this mystery, as if almost in a living sleep, I see a purple steel sign rise out of the ground and settle next to the road. The sign was the same kind that the kingdom of Terra Mar uses for caravan signs and directions, had a much more cryptic and frighteningly personal message written upon it in even white print: "WELCOME! Crimson Prince Aries, Welcome to the highway of Weis! You will find your destiny at the end of this highway, be what ever it may be! This highway leads to the Weis Pallace aproximately 780961 Quins away! Also, In order to travel this guaranteed safe highway, you may need this gear bellow. Also, Have A Great Life, however long it may be!-Weis Destiny corp." Wonderful, I mused, A sign tailored just for me.

As the sign foretold, a box with a message on top had appeared beneath the sign. "The clothing within here will custom tailor itself as you grow. Enjoy the 89.92% protection from all Sky Dust!" The top proudly declared. Opening the box, I found a black jumpsuit with a red longcoat folded neatly. A chain sword sheath on the side, as if it was truly planned in advance just for me, and a pair of black leather boots with a crimson streak down the side. Changing in the middle of broad day light into the new clothes, I came to found the fit me perfectly. Even my sword slid into the sheath nicely, and I slung it over my shoulder. Feeling into my pocket, I found a note that said: "Please begin to walk down the Weis highway."

I threw the note to the wind and looked back at the palace ruins. It was no place for a child of the age of eight, nor was this highway any better, but destiny had bitten the wind as they used to say. With this, I began my journey into the unknown down the Weis highway. A highway with the overwhelming stench of death.

Saga: Ballads of the Hero

Ries von Broken
Casting aside our doubts,
Abide by our strife.
A Hero of great stature has appeared,
Or so the folk say.
But in these dark times,
Blackened Hearts grime,
And Hope has vanished yet.
But will he prove to be,
The one to slay the demons which roam the land?
I fear our hope is in vain.

Silver Dreams of Nitzhe
The hero has come!
The hero has come!
The one the prophet Syzlais has foretold!
He has come to slay the evil!
He has come to the city of Qisxere.

Qisxere, Lords of Earth
Upon an misty eve,
An Oath sworn indeed,
By the so called Hero of the land,
To slay the demons of the flame.
But by our will,
Which shall be done,
By man or beast,
Will this lead to our profit?
Casting him away,
We alone shall see,
In the licking flames of a new day.

Demon Cry, O Broken Sky
Cry aloud! Cry aloud!
The enemy has been abound!
Clad in his hides of steel,
Does he know whom before he stands?
Sling, Slash!
His blade goes slickty slack!
Can he win? Can he win?
We wonder with our kin.

Village Meldey Sorlol
Twas I whom sought to be in his presence,
The presence of a man whom could rival a god.
Twas I whom found him as a boy,
And festered his hate of Demon-kind.
Twas I whom created this monster,
And it is I whom shall slay him.

Black Gear Antoginist
"Hey Dalius! Wake up or else!" Dalius lazily spun his
head from the countertop where he was sleeping. "Oh...
Richter. What time is it again?" "Its high time you got home,
idiot." "Oh, right... Its "that" time again." Dalius rose and
moved his trench coat out of his way. Looking over his
shoulder he noticed that the darkness was eating away at
the corner of the skies outside the bar's windows.

"So what time would it be again?" asked Dalius with
an eschewed smile creeping up his face, partially hidden by
an sinister shadow that covers his eyes. Richter pushed the
glass he was shining aside as his mustache began to curl.
The sight of which always gave Dalius a jump of delight
inside. "It's NINE, YOU BRAGOT!" shouted the red faced
Richter in all of his vanity, startling the other patrons with
an jolt. "Opps, your right. I guess it is time for me to go."

As Dalius turned, he noticed the clock that Richter
was getting his unreasonable assumption of what time it
was. It was an handsome brass piece, a handsome broken
clock that eschewed Richter's entire assumption. My, My.
Richter making such a simple mistake, how amusing. So how can I
exploit this? All the while Richter was growing more and
more impatient, rudely tapping the bar, partially making he
other patrons become more and more nervous.

"Say Richter," started Dalius, "When did Six-Thirty
become Nine?" "Wh-What was that?" asked Richter
trembling in rage all the while Dalius's face became covered
in an suppressed smile. Time for the kill! Thought Dalius
gleefully. "Oh my good man, even you know that sun down
is at seven, not nine. And for given sakes, fix that blasted
clock you have up there. It is obviously deluding you into an
false sense of time and place." Richter's face flared into over
thirty different shades of red in an overly amazing display
of control, he muttered "Yeah, Yeah I'll get it fixed", and just
like that he disappeared behind the counter.

How angry could he be? Dalius wondered as he saw
Richter's back while he shuffled casks across the back "Are
you angry, Richter?" bluntly asked Dalius. "Do I look angry
to you?" "I don't know. Do you...?" pensively asked Dalius
in his overwhelming enjoyment of pressing Richter's buttons
in the right order. Richter turned his head towards Dalius,
giving him an look that could even make the devil run in

Okay, I've might have pushed him too far... "You know
that I'm kidding, right Richter pal?" "Yeah, Yeah. You
always pull something like this every time you come here.
Do me an favor, will ya?" Richter walked down the bar and
handed an drink to an young woman whom was intensively
looking at Dalius's face. "Here you go, lass." "Thank you"
the woman politely responded before she downed her drink
and left the bar.

"Anyways," began Richter as he walked back
towards Dalius's end of the bar, " I really like it if you stop
annoying me at my work. You aren't my only customer, you
know?" "Alright, fine. I get the drift any ways. Besides I got
an article to write. Deadlines tomorrow, got it?" Dalius
pointed towards the counter where he dropped off an
tenfold stilfe note. "That should cover the tab, yeah?" "Yes,
this will do. Despite all your trouble, you still are an high
paying customer, so keep it up or else." "Got it" And with
that, Dalius turned and joined the city in the frozen abyss of
wind and sound

The Imperial city of Grinsta was being slowly frozen
to death by the overwhelming power of nature's icy
torment. As Dalius slowly trudged through the ice, his
thoughts and memories were spinning faster than the very
torrent of wind that masked him and made his gray
ominous trench coat come alive. Ever slowly did block after
block of the city pass, most marked by an faded crimson sign
indicating what street in question it was he passing.

A streetcar passed, spewing its poisonous black diesel
fumes, while all the same helped illuminate the dark street
as well. Modern technology... Dalius sighed as he watched not
one streetcar pass, but three and was even followed by an
scathe bike, a new piece of oil powered machinery built in
the form of a bicycle. Even with all of this, this city is still dying.

Suddenly, Dalius heard the outcry of an tortured
voice. He speed up his pace slightly as if to convince others
that he was merely on a hurry, but not so much as if to make
him seem concerned as he approached. So, who is it this time?
I bet ten to one its "Them" As he walked past the corner of the
street intersection, Dalius turned his head and silently
observed the beating take place.

It was an common man withering on the ground
covered in his own bloodstained rags, crying out for help,
for mercy, and soon death. Several imperial city guards
stood and laughed at he man, one occasionally throwing an
kick at the disgraced man, forcing him to suffer yet more.
Dalius flushed red in anger, but forced himself to continue to
keep walking letting his worn hat cover his eyes.

"Hey guys! Maybe if we keep this up, we can get an
raise!" echoed one of the imperials past the corner. A raise,
huh? Damn Imperials. I... I will one day justify this... This... Lost
in thought, another streetcar passed, shining light unto
Dalius's face revealing an almost insane hatred in his eyes. I
will kill all of those cowards! One day... How ironic is it that the
empire supports both peace and suffering for its citizens. Those
whom speak out are beaten like him... The image of the beaten
man came to Dalius's mind. I have to change it. Somehow.

Looking up ahead for the first time in ten minutes, he
realised that he was reaching the end of the upper middle
class district in Grinsta downtown and nearly have reached
the lower city of the middle class downtown, only one of the
many areas sectioned off from the other districts by an
massive wall of steel and bolts, underneath of which ran
tunnels allowing passerby and streetcars alike past. That is if they have the clearance to enter that district. "Home sweet
home." muttered Dalius under his breath as the steel walls
slowly began devouring the sky.

The control point proved no hassle to Dalius as he
entered the line for the middle city. Luckily for him, the line
had nary but three people waiting around for their clearance
to be accepted. "Next!" came an dull mechanical voice from
the steel clad booth. The line drudged forward as another
person draped in clothes of worn gray disappeared into the
machine and was allowed into the tunnels. The toll room
was cheaply made of iron and bore no marks on how many
people have passed through it in its three hundred years of

However what always would fascinate Dalius, was
the machine for allowing people through. It was an old sort
of machine, designed to let groups pass one after another. It
worked something like this: A clear gate would rise, the
group would enter the marked "safe" zone and the steel
barrier would rise only after the clear gate had fallen. Same
as always, huh? I wonder if these barriers existed in the founding
of the city?

Dalius's face was contorted with many complex
emotions, so many in fact that it took the appearance that he
was trying to get rid of an headache of an powerful kind.
"Next!" called the ever persistent toll keeper, as Dalius
slowly took his position. The toll keeper was an extremely
fat man with the ever smallest pair of spectacles that was
ever seen. Dalius, despite his anger at the incident outside,
could not help his wolfish unshaven face to corrupt into a
smile. When they say government are pigs... I never imagine this
to be their very incarnate. After pushing papers aside from the
desk within the steel booth, he droned "Show me some
clearance to pass". "Clearance? Oh you mean these-" Dalius
reached into his dark pants and drew out his wallet. Inside
of which, he pulled out one card in particular, which he
pushed towards the toll keeper.
"Hmm... Dalius Cernford is it?" asked the dull toll
keeper with an caricature of boredom imprinted upon his
face. "Yes sir. At your service." And soon at your grave, it
would seem. "Yes... Hm... Here you go. Your clearance has
been accepted. Go to the gate and await the doors entry."
The toll keeper pushed the card back to Dalius, whom stood
there bemused. "NEXT!"

This city never changes. Dalius approached the steel
gate and watched in monetary fashion as it rose. Taking
three steps into the gate machine, the wall suddenly dropped
early forcing Dalius to jump forwards, lest he be crushed by
the machine. Damn broken machines. The Imperialists need to fix
the city at the least. The clear gate rose and Dalius began his
trek through the wall tunnel. Right beside the pedestrian
walk way was where streetcars would run on its own course,
separated by an mere iron hand rail that was rusted to the
point of cracking. One would have to wonder how it came to
be rusted in the tunnels in the first place.

Sadly, the city will never change on its own... Dalius
continued his deep thoughts until he made it to the second
toll booth. This room was too clad in ancient iron and had an
faded red cloth banner welcoming people back to the normal
middle downtown district. The man in the steel booth was
an spry man and accepted Dalius's clearance without an
second thought. Just another imperial drone... Dalius walked
past him and left the wall tunnels into the city.

The normal middle downtown was very much
different from the upper middle district in the fact that this
area is mainly residential housing, shabbily built on the
concrete base of the city. With the steel wall behind of
Dalius, street lights and streetcars lit the run down city.
Every building was built of brick instead of iron as in the
other district and gave it an almost novel appearance of how
cheap its construct really was. Old styled glass windowsills
coated in snow reminded Dalius of how close he was to his
apartment building himself.
In the distance, Dalius could see the three story
apartment building at the end of the lane and smiled bitterly.
Well, for now let's worry about how Nara has been and get this
report finished. The frosted handrails coated in a lack luster
glimmer of ice, freezing to the touch as Dalius began
climbing the ragged concrete stairwell leading to his
apartment. As he reached the third floor, he looked out of
the alcove next to his doorway. Tonight, another happy ending
to a crummy day. Tommorow... Well, I'll just wait and see...

As Dalius entered his apartment, a loud squeal of joy
and wonderment filled the room. "Hey, Nara I'm home!"
Dalius extended his arms open with a happy smile gracing
his face. The result was already evident with the sound of
light footsteps. "Daddy! Lookie, Lookie!", A small girl
around the age of seven dashed around the corner and leapt
at Dalius. Grabbing onto his shirt, she tugged
enthusiastically, pointing at an object in her hand. "Here let
me see what you have there Nara."

Dalius dropped to one knee and opened up her hand
to discover a tooth. Oh, so that is what Nara is so excited about.
Silly kid. "Daddy, tell me. Will the steel siren come if I put
this under my pillow? Will he give me candy? Will he? Will
he? Oh so that is what she wants. Candy from some legendary
tooth trader. Dalius grabbed a hold of Nara and hoisted her
on top of his snow topped shoulder. "Daddy, it's cold. Let
me down!", Nara protested driving her tiny fists into Dalius
sore back. Dalius carried her in a circle and toppled her onto
her bed in the next room, making her giggle uncontrably.
"Hey you silly girl. Don't you know that that the steel
siren only comes to children who are asleep? Besides that,
have you ate?" "Uh huh. Miss Terra gave me food and
everything!" bobbed Nara's head making her sleek brown
hair frizzy. I see. Another thing I owe her for helping me. Dalius
looked over at the cheap iron clock mounted on the wall,
pointing at nine. "Well make sure you tuck that tooth under
here, see? Now go to sleep. I'll see you off in the morning."
"Okay daddy" whispered Nara already half asleep nestled in
her blankets like some baby wolf in its covering. Dalius
smiled at the little nymph and walked into the next room.

He hit the switch for the light over his desk and tossed
his hat and coat onto the rack besides it. Past the desk was
the dark view of the city, dancing in all its moving lights
with the steel walls as an ominous back drop. I'll wait an hour
before I put the candy under her pillow.

Dalius dug into his desk and came up with a caramel,
some cigarettes and a pen. He inclined his head towards the
broken down couch in the center of the room. Should I retire
for the night? Looking back at his desk, he saw his polished
typewriter with a half-typed report on how life in Grinsta is
at its best in decades dated for midday. Pah! Liars, all of them.

While Dalius smoldered, he grabbed an cigarette and
lit it. Taking a long slow draw from its relieving taste of
ciders and ash, he walked over to the windowsill. Placing his
arm against the wall, Dalius once again looked out at the city
of brick and steel. A city filled with ever present diesel fumes
and evil greater than even death. This city, no, this empire is
dying. Its damn decaying stench reeks of death and I shall be its
executor. Dalius looked towards the plain derelict hall past
his locked and bolted iron door. At the very least... Nara is
happy. But for how long before even she learns the truth about this
world, about this false life? Oh well... All I have to do is build a
new world, a world where this false empire is no more. Exhaling,
Dalius put out his cigarette on a burnt brass ashtray sitting
next to the frosted window. Slowly sitting at his desk, he
resigned himself to typing the lies that the news agency
expected from him the next day.

Jon Dance of Mr.Harry West and the spark of Useless Wright
The streets were illuminated by the light and sounds of the city. Even here, on the outskirts of Izun district, the life of the city was clear and evident all arround them. Among the people walking, a certain man stood out from the crowd. A man clothed in an antique get up, complete with a suit jacket and fedora as he walked at a brisk pace past the people. However, the reason people were avoiding him was clear, on the arms of the man glowing through the thin cloth of his white shirt, and even dimly could be seen through the arms of his jacket, was the light of electronic circuits running all across his body. This man, wanted as a criminal in the more civil parts of Rotham City, was known as Harry West.

“Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!” each time Harry cursed more profusely then the last, snapping his cigarette in two, as he went on his way, letting it fall as if it would change something. “Why is it that it is always a night like this, a night filled with the ghost of her face?” He swung his arm over the streets below the walking pass over the highway he stood, his face illuminated by the errie green light emanating from his arms. “They told me…” Lost in thought, he pushed his dark hair aside and his face suddenly broke into a smile. “They told me… They told me… “
To any other man whom might overhear Harry’s words, they would most likely describe him as a loon or as a man appropriate to enter a mental facility, but for the poor individual in question, a man inexplicitly so unimportant to the world and this story, bothering Mr.West’s inner musings could only be considered suicide. This man’s name, which holds no relevance really, is James Wright, a man whom may have learned the better side of life before being toppled so brutally into the rushing traffic bellow.
“Goddamn IT! THEY TOLD ME SHE WOULD BE HERE!” Screamed Harry into the night, both hands bending the railing of the over pass as he looked towards the stormy heavens with a maniac smile. “Excuse me… Would you happen to be Mr.West?” a small but humble man reached out and touched Harry’s shoulder. Sent by his employers, poor Mr.Wright had no choice but to approach the raving madman known as Harry West to inform him that the girl in question was actually not on the overpass of Izun district, above 11th Highway, but rather at Izum district on the other side of town, on the overpass above the 1st highway. By touching Harry’s shoulder, he earned the complete and total attention of him, his emerald eyes blazing in fury, his smile twisted beyond belief. “You’re not her… YOU’RE NOT HER!” and it was with this that the poor Mr.Wright felt his head be grasped by West’s monstrous grip his final flight as he fell towards the nighttime traffic of the 11th highway. Inwardly, he regretted his choice of profession and questioned if the afterlife had mice before he was crushed by many tons of rubber and steel. This of course, is completely irrelevant.
Above the now inert corpse of Mr. James Wright, Harry’s arm glowed red with pleasure, the crackling of electricity from which more then enough to make the crowd run away as he lit another cigarette and smile. Tonight, was another rotten night, but at least the spark of life he had just extinguished had brought him pleasure in a sense. For me, I stopped watching Mr.West and ran back to my abode, on the 13th level underneath the uncomfortable apartments known as Rivensol Place.

1// Waking void.
When Quin opened his eyes, he was within the void. Damn it! Run. Run. Running forever more, with the chaos of the void, flashing lights of red, green and purple. No escape. There never was. It never existed to begin with. Bellow Quin, superimposed upon the ground was the image of the earth, rotating in its eternal vanity.
His purple coat trailing behind him, his dark green chains beside him, and the agony of unreality forced themselves upon Quin’s mind’s eye in a sequence that would forever mar his conscious thoughts. Run. Run. Is there an escape from this realm of madness? Run. Run. Above him, floating in the omnipresent sky of blending colors was a star, black as the night sky, yet emanating a cold dark light that chills straight to the bones.
In the distance, he began hearing a loud hammering sound, like steel being malformed into a new twisted existence. From the madness above did a door fall before Quin, raising black dust above its overlooking view of the rotating earth. Without a second thought, Quin threw the door open and leapt inside. Slamming it shut, he spared a second to look about him.
The sky was gone as was the ground, both replaced by a mirror that seemed to stretch forevermore. Looking behind him, he saw the world beginning to twist, the mirror roof blending with its identical floor in a spiral. Turning forwards, he continued his run. Run. In a world where his running figure seemed to exist in so many dimensions, but only one reality. As he looked into the mirror to see his reflection running alongside of him, he watched in horror as it slowly grew from the floor and began running a little ways away from him on the same level.
The copy began following him within the world of endless mirrors, while to assist Quin’s stark fear did even more copies appear, each an identical twin to Quin’s own running figure. The copies colors began inverting until they were the inversion of Quin’s own existence. Chasing him through a perfectly flat world. A world cast into the colors of the mirror. Behind him, he hear a sucking sound come from the spiral of the mirrors, the spiral that seems to blend the impossible with reality‘s own tormenter.
The sound was one of the copies stumbling, and losing his balance, only to be devoured by the reflected spiral. Its inverted skin tone of black and light blue left a splash of neon blue blood across the mirror, creating a stain upon the perfectly level ground. Soon, even the stain was sucked within the spiral. Speeding forwards, the copies obliged to do same as Quin, their sole purpose to capture him and drag him into the spiral.
Running into a endless world, made of perfect glass. Rising above the mirror’s surface was a pipe, rusted at sections and tarnished brown by the stress of its own existence. Above this, A glass stairwell rising higher into a inky black darkness, a stark contrast to the mirror.

Time is broken, in my wonderful dance as I slay the phantoms of my mind.

Die and fade away...

Words echoing in an asture mannor, how arragont is he whom holds god in content?

Die and fade away...

My history deleted. My life is create all I see and delete all the others. They are breaking through.

Now we are fallen. Lose control. Open deleted. Delete. Delete. Delete.

Run child, there is no escape.

Pain enters soul. Delete. I can find the light.

In my insanity, I've wasted away. My life, My air, my art, my blood....

Rots and dies...

Crimson flower, My love and my Despair
Crimson flower, My love and my Despair

In the night before the dawn,
A flower lays bloom to its innocent charm.
Crimson shade reminder of blood,
It intices me to fall towards oblivion.
Darkness beyond even the void,
I seep towards the ground even as I watch the flower,
For absolution lies within.
Crimson dreams of the distant past,
A maiden dressed in the lightest shade of white,
All collide within my mind,
A fading memory.
How long has it been since I knew,
That for one man to have joy is to crush anouther to despair?
Standing within my mind,
The flower laying dried in the mud.
For what insanity lies within our deseased world?
For what have I strived for?
This reflects within the crimson flower,
A mere phantom of my soul.
In this desolate wastes,
Why does one die so nine may live?
I wonder these things,
While my mind seeks absolation within a void,
A Void called the human heart.
I once loved her with all my soul,
That maiden dressed within the mythos of this world.
Yet even she fell to the crimson,
The crimson repesented by this flower.
This world of my mind,
Is this a reality that I am dreaming,
Within the gates of Akashaic wrath?
From the distance the black wind begins to blow,
And with it the flower rots and fades before my eyes.
It seems even it will sccumb to the final destination of all that live,
A place said to be filled with power and awe.
For myself,
I chose to fade away across enternity,
My Despair as my friend,
And my broken memories of her,
The maiden that I loved within the crimson,
The crimson flower of her heart.

What I read is rather... interesting. Your writing is nice; I like it. Though, your spelling seems to be off and your grammar suffers because of it. You also spelled "Writings" incorrectly, but ah well.
What I read is rather... interesting. Your writing is nice; I like it. Though, your spelling seems to be off and your grammar suffers because of it. You also spelled "Writings" incorrectly, but ah well.

Did I? My bad. XD
As always, spelling remains my weakest suit, no matter how hard I try to correct it.
The problem I have is I get real inspired to write, but when it comes out it the thought begins to die and fade away. I wish I can finish and write a novel, although what about would be hard to say.
"It's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly...timey wimey...stuff."
I'll have a closer look later, but the biggest pitfall you stumble into (and I see a LOT of writers doing this) is tense switching. Generally it's best to pick either past or present tense and stick with it. There are exceptions to this but going willy nilly between them is jarring. For example:

"I gasped with shock. An angel flies in front of me."

"I gasped with shock; an angel flew in front of me."

Obviously the second one is better because it's tense-consistent (and also uses a semicolon for less of an abrupt ending to two related independent clauses, but that's a story for another time).

It's good that you write when you're inspired; keep that up. I'll give you a more detailed critique once I've read everything.
Ah, I see. Yes, I am extremely guilty of that, but I am also guilty of not knowing how to stop switching narratives, as in the way the story is told (First-person, third-person and vice versa).
I really do need to rewrite most of these, as shameful as it is to admit this, my English was appalling 5 years ago, and so I should correct grammar, as that is my second weak suit in writing.
However, I do need to keep writing, I just wish I could focus on one idea, then have several smaller stories wiggling around in each of their own doldrums.

So, Critique away! I would be delighted to see you opinions of the stories I have posted so far.
I wrote a rough draft of a short story for the hell of it. Probably needs some editing and revisions made, but the concept was about a old mountain man trying to save people from being brainwashed in his own way, and get them away from the followers of the state government to the hideout of the people fleeing. Feel free to critique, and give suggestions to what needs to be edited. Not all of the grammar is correct, but normally not all thoughts are clear cut and I always has have perfered more of a "image" type of storytelling anyways. Not much dialouge in this one, mostly just his thoughts. Action scene felt a bit strange, but I'll fix it up in the editing later.

Returner "The Departured" Wind Charter
Moments become hours and hours streched on and on without no end. Make no mistake, you are not the one whom understands but rather it is that small sinking sensation in your chest that is the thing that is winning this battle, no doubt. Truth is you will never understand as long as you hold onto that fragile mentality. not even for a second.

Taro Shi woke to the sound of the campfire tinkling, it burning in its waste. It had been day nine since he had taken refuge from "The departure", a event that the others foolishly embraced as a wonderful pass of omen, of that the future was close at hand. Once again not a soul listened. Once again nobody understood his reasoning. If one man could know his own future, then that man surely is immortal and following such a path is rightous, correct?

Rising to his feet, he scanned the area about him. "...I see. Yon ain't comin after all", he joked in a cloused manner as it fell upon deaf ears. Alwqays did. Strolling towards the forest, he grabbed his things and kicked dirt onto the fire. Best not let the city dwellers be able to track him, he whom had defyied thier ways and left without hesitation. Thouse damn machines that they trust will ruin them. It echoed in the bones after all.

With this, he vanished into the early morning mist. Wetness embraced him with its cold shake, but he passed right through it. Cold ain't no enemy of his. Marching into the void, nothing would stop his march through the mountains. Never did.

Finally, after a few hours he came to a hollow, wherin a sound did reach his ears.

"A cry...?" he whispered anxiously. Yes, pain was no stranger to Taro, but did that matter after they sold thier souls in "the departure"? After all, even the Red mistress teaches you can't have pain without pleasure, but they went off and sold thier pain for pleasure alone. Once again he grit his teeth in anger, and even the desire to continue on and ignore the plead surfaced within him. No... Gotta go see he thought. The saved ones don't cry any more.

Out of the woods, at the beggining of the hollow was anouther small camp, mixed with soldiers and citizens alike, with a young girl in a steel cage flaking last of its trusty life away no doubt. She cried and cried but the two soldier's laughed at her and continued to play cards in front of there gate. Not a soul seemed to mind. Peering from the undergrowth, a spark of curiosity sprung in his chest. The others, the citizens and the soldiers in thier equally drab uniform's of gray and blue walked back and fro following thier way of normal life it seemed with that always present content smile on thier faces. "Departured" they're called, vile scum that went and willingly let themselves go to the Black king and accept old Grustek's "gift" of pleasure. Sure it does what he said, but was your soul worth it...? And more then that, what about the countless others that were forced to accept it? Harsh as it may be, once you get on that mental train, it never goes away. That smile will go and go on forever as they indulge in thier curroupt acts of madness without realizing it. But that girl... That girl ain't one of them. Nay, probably some poor soul about to get given to grustek, to join the "departured" long before a trip to the sky, 'cause departured never cry.

Taro Shi moved swiftly and grew closer to the encampment, thier azure tents all marked with that same two headed raven. Looking closely, he noticed that none of the garuds carried anything beyond a Silver Repeater. Still, a repeater's beam is enough to kill a man in less then three shots, so don't make matters much better. The others, people with fair complexitions and dark hair were cooking over Ritol Burners, with thier black needle radios buzzing in thier ears, listening to things beyond the encampments that they don't even realize that they are there. Just mindless drones really, a sea of false people. Readying up his throwing axes, Taro shi ran in, his long ragged black hair following creating a stream of confused smiles in his direction as the people looked towards him. Cling. One axe sunk into the head of one of the gaurds of the gate, the other happiliy not minding the death of his friend he was playing cards with as he turnned towards Taro with Repeaters in hand. A zap from the repeater singed the arm of Taro, but only one shot made it before Taro beheaded him without hesitation. The girl stopped crying to stare in shock and awe of the stranger whom cut down both soldiers, her red curls slightly shaking from her head swaying backword in confusion. Thunk. With out fail, Taro cut the lock and grabbed the girl, can't be more then twelve, out of the cage with him.

"Hurry. They'll be replaced soon" he grunted. Her eyes lit up with fear and confusion, but she nodded her small head. Good girl, least she's got common sense he thought in a hurry. Slowly, the ocean of "Departured" began to open as smiling maniac after smiling maniac dressed in thier perfect navy blue uniform's appeared, each unlocking the holster of the Silver repeater humming in its wake. Grabbing her, he pulled her into the undergrowth as they began to persue. Shouts of "With pleasure sir!" came from behind the two as they ran, stumbling and tripping over roots, looking for a way out. Finally, they came to a vertical rock face, hewn by the hand of god and Taro spun arround and grabbed her and hoisted her up the cliff, scrambling up the face himself right after her. Finally, the sounds of persuit died down as they started to make some tracks in between the soldiers of the black king's court.

Night had already fallen, but they set camp nonetheless. So far, she had not said a word to Taro, and personally it was starting to bother him, the fear of her being mute eating away at his burned mind. So far all she had replied with were confused nod's and a hint of a smile after he told her a old story about him while he was young. The sparks of the flint rock struck and lit, the fire burned bright and the heat beating the cold. Well, either way they would have to head towards Crim Bastion where he could drop her off with old mother Thressa. She took care of thouse whom needed hiding from the endless madness of the dark king, ole Grustek himself. He readed her a bed, and gave her the only blanket.

"I don't need it, these rags can keep me warm enough. You're dress there will be cold come morn." he explained. Shyly, she accepted and finally went to lie down underneath the tarp, but before she did she looked Taro dead in the eye and a tinkle of a voice slipped fourth:

"...Thank you..." and the silence resume like it was illusion as she covered up.

Hell, looks like she can speak after all, the humor staining his cracked lips as he rest against his new sleeping tree. Well, We'll get there in a moon from now, he reckoned as old man duke slowly forced his eyes shut bit by bit. Wonder what she'll tell me on the way there... After all, Taro was just a old returner, a person whom tries to save thouse whom are'nt the departured. Soon... They'll be back to yon Crim Bastion, and some rest could come at last. Finally his eyes closed with the last push from old man duke, making sure that when a soul is tired and weary they get rest for what lies ahead. Soon, they'll be there soon...
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