#1
(Prolouge)

This is but the beginning of the great saga that is my existence in this universe. That is, if I really exist...and if this universe really exists. This could all be some twisted illusion. If that is the case, then what you are about to read is a twisted illusion of the great saga that would be my life had it been real. But then again, if this really is all an illusion, and we have lived our whole lives believing that this illusion is in fact reality, then it becomes our reality. For reality is nothing more than how we percieve it...

Anyway, enough with the psycho-babble. Prepare to embark on a journey like you have never imagined.



(Part 1)

The first memories are very bleak. All that can be recalled is darkness. Though unsure what, our hero felt that there was something very special and unique taking place, for there was frantic panic. Everyone was running around, yelling…screaming. It may have been a war, perhaps a race, or an monstrous adversary on the prowl…who knows. There were many among him, all who were seemingly identical to him…though they were not as brave, and not as bold…and not to mention, not quite as sexy as he was. Suddenly, a light appeared in the distance. It glistened with unspeakable beauty, and our hero was immediately drawn to it. All of the others apparently had a similar idea, and hurried in the direction of this heavenly glow. Realizing that he isn't the only one who was sprinting to this magnificent light, our hero quickened his pace, though his adversaries once again had the same idea. Indeed, it was a race…and no matter what lie at the finish line, our hero was determined to win. With all the dexterity he can muster, our hero darted towards its alluring radiance. Had it been Olympic swimming, Michael Phelps would've eaten his flutter kicks. With unmatched quickness he jolted into the lead of the pack, and was the first to pass the sacred barrier of victory. The others, as we so call them, also tried crossing into the light after they finally reached it…but it repelled them. There could only be one victor in this race, and of-course, that victor is the protagonist…who, for now, is only known to us as "our hero". Yes, there was something special going on…our hero felt as if his existence were coalescing with that of this mysterious luminosity…and then, once again, memories become very bleak. And once again, all that can be recalled is darkness, though this darkness had a satisfying sense of comfort to it, much unlike that of its predecessor.


9 months later...

(and not to mention)

...535 years from the day of Leonardo Da Vinci's first breath...122 years from the day of Abraham Lincoln's last...75 years from the day the Titanic sank to the bottom of the North Atlantic...and the day, that year after year after year, millions of procrastinators flock to post offices with hastily scribbled tax forms in hand...



(Part 2)

Our hero's journey into the outer world almost ceased, before it ever really began. His mother lies stretched out on the table…his father incessantly paces like a maniac, as the doctor prepares to extricate the treasure from deep within the caves of wonder (OMG….did I just call my mom's whatchamacallit.….the caves of wonder? straightjacket me now and lock me away for good…please). Expecting to see a little sexy head, the doctor was rather shocked when he instead saw a little foot…a sexy little foot, that is. The doc pushed this sexy little foot back, hoping that things would be better the second time around…but to no avail. Only one option remained…time to get a'cuttin! So with a poke-poke here, and a snip-snip there, our hero's mother became a living diagram of the human anatomy. And then there he was, our hero, in all his glory, though in a not so glorious predicament. The evil cord of umbilical had wrapped itself around the neck of our young hero and like the dreaded Chinese finger-traps, the more he struggled to break loose of its hold…the more breath was expelled from his frail body by this ferocious serpent. With a slash-slash here, and a chop-chop there, however, the doctor had slain the beast and air once again entered the lungs of our hero! He was taken, by one of the nurses…to wash away his crimson coating, and then...after a stitch-stitch here and a sew-sew there…placed into the arms of his mother. Without much regard for her opinion…our hero was, by his father, given the name Dmitriy…which derives from the Greek name Demetrius, meaning "Lover of the Earth". And what a lover our hero would become…


…To be continued…?


(Wrote this a few years ago with a few recent minor edits and updates. Still have yet to start or even begin to think about a continuation...hence the question mark at the end.

Thanks a bunch if you actually read all this and as always...c4c! )
Last edited by Guns N Russians at Oct 21, 2008,
#2
Haha, yes you did just call your mother's watchamacallit "the caves of wonder". There is a great air of cynicism and fun about this piece, i really enjoyed reading it. I never knew impregnation and a ****ed-up birth could be so poetically beautiful. Well done. i always enjoy reading your stuff,there's something fresh about it
#3
nice.
coming back tommorrow.
bumping this for now because i owe you alot and this deserves to be read.
#4
Quote by Guns N Russians
(Prolouge)

This is but the beginning of the great saga that is my existence in this universe. That is, if I really exist...and if this universe really exists. This could all be some twisted illusion. If that is the case, then what you are about to read is a twisted illusion of the great saga that would be my life had it been real. But then again, if this really is all an illusion, and we have lived our whole lives believing that this illusion is in fact reality, then it becomes our reality. For reality is nothing more than how we percieve it...

Anyway, enough with the psycho-babble. Prepare to embark on a journey like you have never imagined.



(Part 1)

The first memories are very bleak. All that can be recalled is darkness. Though unsure what, our hero felt that there was something very special and unique taking place, for there was frantic panic. Everyone was running around, yelling…screaming. It may have been a war, perhaps a race, or an monstrous adversary on the prowl…who knows. There were many among him, all who were seemingly identical to him…though they were not as brave, and not as bold…and not to mention, not quite as sexy as he was. Suddenly, a light appeared in the distance. It glistened with unspeakable beauty, and our hero was immediately drawn to it. All of the others apparently had a similar idea, and hurried in the direction of this heavenly glow. Realizing that he isn't the only one who was sprinting to this magnificent light, our hero quickened his pace, though his adversaries once again had the same idea. Indeed, it was a race…and no matter what lie at the finish line, our hero was determined to win. With all the dexterity he can muster, our hero darted towards its alluring radiance. Had it been Olympic swimming, Michael Phelps would've eaten his flutter kicks. With unmatched quickness he jolted into the lead of the pack, and was the first to pass the sacred barrier of victory. The others, as we so call them, also tried crossing into the light after they finally reached it…but it repelled them. There could only be one victor in this race, and of-course, that victor is the protagonist…who, for now, is only known to us as "our hero". Yes, there was something special going on…our hero felt as if his existence were coalescing with that of this mysterious luminosity…and then, once again, memories become very bleak. And once again, all that can be recalled is darkness, though this darkness had a satisfying sense of comfort to it, much unlike that of its predecessor.


9 months later...

(and not to mention)

...535 years from the day of Leonardo Da Vinci's first breath...122 years from the day of Abraham Lincoln's last...75 years from the day the Titanic sank to the bottom of the North Atlantic...and the day, that year after year after year, millions of procrastinators flock to post offices with hastily scribbled tax forms in hand...



(Part 2)

Our hero's journey into the outer world almost ceased, before it ever really began. His mother lies stretched out on the table…his father incessantly paces like a maniac, as the doctor prepares to extricate the treasure from deep within the caves of wonder (OMG….did I just call my mom's whatchamacallit.….the caves of wonder? straightjacket me now and lock me away for good…please). Expecting to see a little sexy head, the doctor was rather shocked when he instead saw a little foot…a sexy little foot, that is. The doc pushed this sexy little foot back, hoping that things would be better the second time around…but to no avail. Only one option remained…time to get a'cuttin! So with a poke-poke here, and a snip-snip there, our hero's mother became a living diagram of the human anatomy. And then there he was, our hero, in all his glory, though in a not so glorious predicament. The evil cord of umbilical had wrapped itself around the neck of our young hero and like the dreaded Chinese finger-traps, the more he struggled to break loose of its hold…the more breath was expelled from his frail body by this ferocious serpent. With a slash-slash here, and a chop-chop there, however, the doctor had slain the beast and air once again entered the lungs of our hero! He was taken, by one of the nurses…to wash away his crimson coating, and then...after a stitch-stitch here and a sew-sew there…placed into the arms of his mother. Without much regard for her opinion…our hero was, by his father, given the name Dmitriy…which derives from the Greek name Demetrius, meaning "Lover of the Earth". And what a lover our hero would become…


…To be continued…?


(Wrote this a few years ago with a few recent minor edits and updates. Still have yet to start or even begin to think about a continuation...hence the question mark at the end.

Thanks a bunch if you actually read all this and as always...c4c! )


Haha. That was funny.

I liked how you used a fantasy-epic-esque tone to tell it.


definately continue it, it would be interesting to see what this would evolve into.
Quote by icaneatcatfood
On second thought, **** tuning forks. You best be carrying around a grand piano that was tuned by an Italian
Last edited by Laces Out Danny at Oct 21, 2008,
#5
Kay.

There are numerous places where I facepalm at the cheesy diction. I think this was supposed to be sort of comical, but I was not entertained. Iunno man, just wasn't feeling it.
マリ「しあわっせはーあるいってこないだーからあるいってゆっくんだねーん 
いっちにっちいっぽみーかでさんぽ
 さーんぽすすんでにっほさっがるー 
じーんせいはっわんつー!ぱんち・・・


"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching

Last edited by culex-knight at Oct 22, 2008,
#6
This was trying much much to hard for me. There were a few things I liked. Specifically, the psychobabble at the beginning was interesting. There were just too many asides taking me in and out of what was happening that it led me to frustration. To me, it seemed like you were trying to pull off a Douglas Adams... but the difference is, he was somewhat subtle about it. He worked crazy off the wall jokes in, but didn't pull the reader out of the sotry for them. He made it seam together... you were jerking me in and out and in and left and around a statue trying to show me "look! Look! I'm funny!" and I needed the humour to feel like part of the piece not a tacked on idea to take a mundane (not meaning your life as mundane, but you know what I mean) autobiographical sentiment and make it better... but really, you just in the end sacrificed story for humor and both fell dead on my ears because it just seemed like laboured humor.

-zC
#7
This is all over the place but nowhere are the same time. It really was not good. In fact, I'm going to be nasty and say that the first paragraph was terribly cliché, annoying and very similar to what I used to write. Which is NOT any good.


Go find a piece of prose I've got called the Bridge. Crit that and I'll explain why I disliked this. And stop complaining about not getting crits, it's common so you'll have to get used to it.
#8
everything i had to say has been said.
but as much as i like your style because it is new and refreshing, i think you should try something different because this is quite a labor to read through. and you never want people to have a difficult time finishing a piece.
just my two cents
#9
So, I expect this is supposed to be severely tongue and cheek, but sometimes you're pushing very hard on the line between comical and juvenile. Particularly the aside about your mother's vagina. I'd expect to find certain parts of the write up in a Pit post, not a well-written comedy. I did dig the "Davinci's first breath" bit. It has a subtle poetry to it, without straying outside the story. Also the, straight out of today, pop culture references don't sit right. I'm all for reaching into the marvelous pool of manic-depressive, obsessive compulsive celebrity slop, but I just don't like the idea of making a passing reference to the newly-crowned king of speedos. Also, the initial narrative only reeled me in half-heartedly, I kinda wanted to keep reading, but I could've lived if I hadn't, it's absolutely essential to punch a reader in the face in the opening lines of a story. That's my two-cents anyway.