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Thanks for the comments Lady and Gent. Actually the **** out words are just the harsh form of darn and they only show up at the beginning. The cool thing is the story really impressed a buddy that does TV production starring me (Yay!!!) and we just started this evening to translate it into a script. We hope to make a film short of it by mid February.

Your post is wacky, Mr. Plastic Squirrel. I liked it! May we all get published!!!
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It was the day my grandmother exploded. I sat in the crematorium, listening to my Uncle Hamish quietly snoring in harmony to Bach's Mas in B minor, and I reflected that it always seemed to be death that drew me back to Gallanach.


Iain Banks- The Crow Road.
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Kurgan sat on the old wooden chest as the lantern above him swung to and fro with the motion of the boat. He glanced at his companions a moment and growled, "I say f**k the king and take the gold!"
Sorry, it's one of mine from the first thing I wrote, but one of my mates keeps reminding me of it because he loved the opening paragraph so much. The character concerned was one he had played himself in a game of AD&D, by the way, which possibly explains why the line was so memorable for him.
ROFLMAO VAl!!! Big Smile Smilie Big Smile Smilie Big Smile Smilie
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Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.

Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.


Douglas Adams - The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
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It was starting to end, after what seemed most of eternity to me.
I attemped to wiggle my toes, succeeded. I was sprawled there in a hospital bed and my legs were done up in plaster casts, but they were still mine.
I squeezed my eyes shut, and opened them, three times.
The room grew steady.
Where the hell was I?


Roger Zelazny, Nine Princes in Amber
High quality, highly philosophical fantasy about the nature of reality.
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Kerridon the Mage was not what anyone would call a typical wizard. He had long despaired of ever looking the part of a mighty sorcerer. While he made every attempt at observing correct wizard etiquette and dress, by carrying the requisite gnarled wooden staff and wearing the long purple robes, he lacked the matching physical attributes in his person. Instead of long silver hair and beard, the best Kerridon could manage was short bristly gray hair and a wiry goatee. Still, at least increasing age was slowly but surely giving him the elderly venerable look, and forcing him to walk with a distinctive arthritic hobble, the latter feature meaning Kerridon was finding it more and more difficult to climb the winding stone staircase to his study.


Okay guys, what do you think of this one then? Big Smile Smilie
Well, If it's good enough for Val...
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Another millennium and another one of these damned "Ring in the New Millennium with a Bang" parties. Oh, by the River Styx, how I hate these things. Hmmm, seems that this one is going to be held in the Norse Realm, Asgard. Heh, they sent the invitation inscribed in their Futhark Runes. Well, when we held it last at Mount Olympus, I am sure Hera had all of the invitations written in our ancient Greek script. At least they didn't send it on one of their huge menhirs, just parchment. Though, it would have been funny to make Sisyphus have to role the damn thing up the hill.

Party at Valhalla


Start of a short story that I wrote from the POV of Hades, Greek God of the Underworld. Contrary to popular belief, he's not such a rotter.

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As far as they usually go, I had seen better days... or nights for that matter, since it actually was night when the people that I was trying to find got jumped on the haunted moors by 3 big, ugly and mean lookin' Formori... What? What is a Formori? Oh... ummm... well, they're a dark and shaggy breed of troll, about 8 to 9 feet tall. They're native to Tir Na Nog, which was recently know as Ireland before its ancient name was brought back. Formori generally like to live in the moors, which is why those of us native here generally avoid the moors, particularly the haunted ones. I don't think that these guys were all that native.

Enter Silvershade
I wrote this based off of my own RPG experiences. It takes place in the Shadowrun world. Sci-Fantasy.
Nice piece, Allyssa. It left me wanting to know what was in his room at the top of the long winding staircase.
And who Kerridon was going to con into doing his leg-work on the (I assume) forth coming quest.
Indeed, Allyssa. That is very cool. I would like read the rest of it if possible. And I'd like to read yours, too Val. I'd appreciate any comments on my intros. Just curious.
A writer of comic prose, Glorfinel? We must summon The Squirrel for his expert insight on this one Wink Smilie .

Okay, I do not personally read a lot of comedy, so I am no expert, but I think it would be better without too much of the **** type words. Too much swearing can be boring to read and it looses its impact. I do like the idea of a comedy about the greek gods though - seriously funny possibilities.

A story from the POV of Hades: more great possibilities! I would like to see him with a few hang-ups about how he has been "mis-represented" and maybe even a pending lawsuit or something (lots of potential for lawyer jokes there). Just be careful not to offend the Irish too much, you will loose a large section of potential readers and publishers will shy away.

And my piece: It is the beginning of my novel, "Wyvern's Eye". Kerridon has lots of interesting stuff in his study, but what is more important is something that is not. The person about to be conned into doing the legwork for the recovery of a stolen magical item, the Wyvern's Eye, is none other than Allyssa (my namesake).

The novel is only about a third finished, but if anyone has any contacts in the publishing industry.....just kidding Big Laugh Smilie
Well, if we're going to start blowing our own trumpets...

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It was dark, it was always dark. It was warm, it was always warm. It was quiet, it was always quiet. It was predictable, but then the best things often are, and, it was always predictable. In the corner, just out of eyeshot, a hulking shape snored loudly, it was dreaming of galaxies and Empires and quasars and warp speed, and other huge ideas.
It dreamt of quarks, and neutrons, and grains of sand, and pepper, and all the tiny things. It dreamt of bricks, and squirrels, and telephones and other kind of medium sized things. It dreamt of anything and everything that you or I have ever dreamt of, and a couple you havenít. Some because they just wouldnít be interesting, and some because youíve never heard of them.
But we will leave the sleeper to its long and peaceful sleep, and travel either many millions of miles, or just a few millimetres, depending on your point of view, philosophical standpoint, and religious persuasion, to where a lone figure traverses a strange landscape.

Many lone figures have traversed strange landscapes, many times. Itís a good convention. Occasionally, a group will traverse a strange landscape, but rarely do they all make it through. Your best bet for successfully getting through a strange landscape, is to traverse it as a lone figure. Preferably in a big hat and a poncho, with a cigar between your lips, and a fistful of dollars.
However, this lone figure, was dressed head to toe in spandex, and carrying a lunchbox. His name was Jentz, and he liked to go out walking every now and then. Itís nothing terribly sinister, sorry. Heís really just gone out for a walk. Itís currently about eight in the morning local time, and the frost is beginning to thaw. The whirly circles in the sky are getting a little brighter, and its looking like another fine day. The ground here is covered in fairly thick red dust, and there seems to be something a bit odd about the sky, apart from the whirling ever-changing circling patterns that adorn the stellar landscape, it seems to be getting closer with every step Jentz takes. As if the horizon was actually a real line. And the sky would meet the land there.


Yeah, I know it's a little more than a paragraph, but I've not shown this to anyone ever, and I've been working on it for 3 years now. As to Glorfinel's fine humorous openings, very good, but watch out for accidental plagiarism (read nearly everything by Tom Holt and Robert Rankin, who have all but covered making fun of ancient gods) as it's really easy to have the same ideas as someone else (you haven't yet though) it keeps happening to me....
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We hope to make a film short of it by mid February.

Your post is wacky, Mr. Plastic Squirrel. I liked it! May we all get published!!!


Oooh! A film, will you mpeg it and stick it online please?

And I agree, may we all get published. As long as we can be bothered to finish our pasterpieces (speaking for myself that is)