I’m delaying The Project until I can both write more chapters and actually write them well, which I cannot do at the moment. So, no chapter this week. I will either reduce the chapter count by one, or post two chapters next week, or something, but this is a better option than releasing another subpar chapter. (Also, I’m not sure if anyone is still reading this serial in the first place, to be honest, so I’m not sure if delaying the chapter means anything to anyone besides me.)
“You did WHAT?”
“I didn’t think you’d–”
“Of course I would! How could you say it just ‘happened’?”
“It did! I mean, he’s still the same…”
“I really wish you would talk to me more about all this,” Future Stephen said. “The past few weeks, I feel like you’ve just been…” he trailed off, and never tried to pick up where he left off. This version of Stephen just didn’t sound like the Stephen that Future Stephen used to know, with his hesitant attitude and constant sighing. Future Stephen was almost too disconcerted to bother talking to him.
So all she said was, “I don’t feel like there’s many people I can talk to anymore.”
Future Stephen took quite a few seconds to respond. Finally, he said, “And I guess I’m not one of those people,” and stood up, ready to leave.
Hey, all of you people returning to read our garbage! I hope you’re excited for the garbage we have in store for you this week. For those of you not familiar with this blog, we post garbage every day (except that one day last week) for you to read. I don’t exactly know off the top of my head what’s going on this week, but you can bet your ass that it’s going to be the best ever. Probably some clipart stories. Probably some presidential election stories. Probably some other things, too, like The Project and probably some stupid scripts I’ll write on the bus. Like, tons of things, basically. And I’ll be writing roughly half of those things. The other rough half is going to be written by the other person who writes things for this thing. Prepare yourself.
A month or so ago, thedude, myself, and several of our friends took part in a story writing contest. The goal was to write a story in ~a week based on two randomly assigned genres, two randomly assigned plot devices, and a randomly assigned setting. My two genres were noir and post apocalyptic and this is what I came up with. It is currently a two part “serial”, but if I feel inspired I might write more stories in the same setting and/or with the same characters.
Richard Phylum had been working at the International Scientific Research Facility in Antarctica, or ISRFA, for eleven years and three months, but tonight, she was lost. She couldn’t believe she was lost in the facility where she had worked for over a decade, but she had no idea where she was, and there was nobody around to help her.
The lights were off, but it was only six at night. Richard could see nothing in the dim hallway; the displays beside her were dark, and the howling winds of the outside faintly blew through the dome’s sound barriers. She couldn’t help but think she was in some sort of strange dream, though she knew she was fully conscious.
A scrape against the floor made her jump; she turned around, only to see the heating system turning on in a nearby vent. Everything was made to look like it was powered down, and yet the facility seemed to be working at optimal capacity… Richard did not enjoy this situation one bit.