FAKKU Writers' Lounge

Why the long preparation~

Does anyone have like, a request or a challenge? I can't seem to write anything about anything.

Go join an RP? D;

Yeah, reading the light novels, and they're always lulzy.

It was just like any other day. The kids at school made fun of me for being poor and having braces, and I smashed a few of their faces in. As soon as I got home all I did was drink. I must've drunk a lot, because next thing I know, a gun's in my hand and Mom and Dad are both dead with a bullet in each of their heads. I can hear Karen crying and wailing behind me, but it sounds so far away. Kenny's kneeling next to Mom, just holding her wrist and looking at her, his face a complete blank. Or what can be seen of it, anyway.

And then I look down at my hands holding the gun, and I see them quivering like an earthquake. I drop the gun and fall back on my ass in surprise, but the feeling won't go away. I can still feel the cold metal jolting in my hands. I can still see their faces as the bullet impacted their brains, the way their eyes widened, their mouths gaping. The way their lives were taken away, just like that. But, I can't remember all of it. I can't remember picking up the gun, but who else could've killed them?

I snap back to reality as I notice Kenny kneeling in front of me, his eyes staring at something on my arm. I look to where his eyes are pointed and see blood gushing out of a bullet hole. Suddenly, I remember being shot. It felt like a punch, but now it's hurting real bad. Kenny says something to me in that muffled voice of his, something like, "Wait here".

Honestly, I can never tell what he's saying, in more ways than one. I guess that's why we stopped talking to each other. He leaves to go get something I guess and I just lay back on the floor. Maybe he's going to call the cops, or the ambulance, or one of his friends or something. For some reason it doesn't really matter to me anymore. My life's screwed up either way. Then, I hear a familiar sniffling before a small voice says, "Kevin, are you *sniff* okay?"

Oh, great, now I have my little sister worrying about me. I hide my face under my good arm and say, "...I'm fine."

"You don't *hic* look fine..."

"I said I'm fine, okay?!"

I raise my voice without meaning to and I hear Karen squeak. A good minute passes before she quietly says, "...I'm sorry."

"...Don't be. Where the heck is Kenny?"

Just as his name is said, he comes back in with a first aid kit in his hands. He quickly walks over to me and kneels down next to my injured arm. He widens the hole in my sleeve a bit and starts examining the wound more closely. He breathes presumably a sigh of relief, and mumbles something about the bullet not being as deep as he thought. Well, that's good. He opens up the first aid kit and gets out a pair of big metal tweezers. He says to me, "Hold still".

He starts jabbing the thing around inside of my arm and it hurts like a bitch. My eyebrows furrow and I clench my fists while trying my best to hold still. I can feel the inside of my arm getting scraped and bloodied while beads of sweat start to form on my forehead. Then, I feel something warm and soft hold my other hand, the left one. I open my eyes, realizing I had them shut tight, and see Karen there at my side, holding onto my hand. I loosen my fist and wrap my fingers around hers just as she wraps hers around mine. The lips on her small and dirty face are pressed tight into a smile, with tears in her eyes but no longer falling. I don't know why she's doing that. Is it pity or something else... I don't know. But, it makes me feel a little bit better.

Kenny finishes extracting the bullet and swiftly cleans and dresses the wound. I manage to mumble out a quiet thanks before moving to get on my feet, only to feel light-headed. Karen and Kenny are quickly at my side, Karen squeezing my hand again and Kenny trying to steady me. I shrug and brush them off before saying, "I'm going to bed".

I leave in silence and proceed upstairs to my room before falling face-first onto my bed and going into a deep slumber. When I wake up the next morning, the first thing I notice is a dull, penetrating ache in my right arm. The second thing I notice is my parched mouth and throat, so I mindlessly go in search of something to drink downstairs. As I walk into the dilapidated kitchen, I notice Kenny and Karen packing food and water into their backpacks.

"What are you guys doing?" I ask them. Kenny answers by tossing me a heavy bag, which I catch with a grunt. He then says, "We're running away, of course".

Oh u

I wrote that like, in the middle of the night when inspiration suddenly hit me and I struck while the iron was hot. But while I was striking, the iron started getting cold and it was just left unfinished. Anyone know how that feels?

All teh times. Some people like to blame it on 'writer's block', but I've come to accept that I may have simply not had enough inspiration for it to extend past one night. Or... perhaps that's just laziness. It's hard to tell with the line being so blurry.

It's so hard to just finish it and shit. Like, I'm just as eager to see the ending to my own great ideas. But then when I try putting it into words, it doesn't come out right and I erase and rewrite, erase and rewrite, erase and rewrite, and so on. Even now, I feel like erasing what I wrote and rewriting it. The only way to deal with it I suppose is to just *know* when you gotta stop.

A challenge: I am ending KnH soon (as in, however many days - months it takes to end it since I have FAR more important documents to write). Help jolt me up~

Go by writing some sum of words per day? It could be whatever, just write~

1 and a half hours is spent wasting time on the computer. The remaining time is to wash up and leave. This is a one-off event though. My parents are going for a holiday and have to leave rather early around 6am. I would like to speak to them before they leave.



Care to share a few ideas you have? I do not know whether you have the misfortune to read what I write. My style of "writing" is to make fun and satirise stories.

But I think that by sharing what you have in mind, more people can chip in. Ideas no matter how silly could be of some value.

Oh I see~

So are you going to be all alone in the house then =D

And I take it that you're asking for them to buy something on their holiday site as a souvenir?

Not exactly, I am asking them when would they be coming back. I am hopelessly dependent on them.

So when will they be coming back?

Thursday afternoon. They claim to be holidaying in Phuket. I will be figuring some way to settle my studies.

Do You Enjoy Seeing Someone You Dislike Suffer

A stupid Serious Discussion topic. I have made it clear that I see more reason to avoid Serious Discussion than Incoherent Babbling.

But here is something related to this: I tend to laugh at comedy that portrays people suffering or getting into trouble of his or her own doing. It is like the episode of Spongebob Squarepants finding out that children tend to laugh when he is subjected to pain.

That may be a rule to follow when writing comedic plots.

Ah, that place...I think I heard that before someday. It sounds like a place somewhere in Thailand~

Good luck on these stuff man, hope the best goes for ya =D

SD is indeed stupid.

Case in point. This is one of my most favourite movies. I hope you enjoyed being ashamed of yourselves laughing at someone being physically assaulted!



Concerning Serious Discussion: There seems to be no room for compromise, no spirit of free discussion or chitchatting in that Serious Discussion forum. Very depressing place. I'd rather get downrepped posting silly posts in Incoherent Babbling.

Inb4 Ichiki and Kokoro Connect issue~