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09 October 2010 @ 08:49 pm
I want to thank all of you for submitting. I loved reading all the entries!!
Congrats to Macca Dyszel! Contest Winner!


Everyone who entered will get a graphic. Please drop me a line in world about what you might want!

Unfortunately I did not get the response I was hoping for with this contest & community. So this was the first and last run. My ultimate hope was to promote more writing for the sake of writing versus RPing for the sake of combat or 'hooking up'. I'm really not sure if i picked the wrong venue or theme or what? But there just was no interest. Thanks again to everyone involved. YOU ALL still made it fun!! <3
 
 
26 September 2010 @ 01:11 pm
Sorry all! I've had a crazy weekend so I haven't had the chance to read/declare a winner yet. I'll try to get to it very soon. In the meantime please encourage others to still submit anything they might possibly be working on! Thanks all & sorry again!!
 
 
Current Mood: busybusy
 
 
24 September 2010 @ 08:53 pm
Author: Macca Dyszel

The club was dark, dingy, and cramped, yet it was still packed to capacity and beyond every night. Visually unpleasant, yet the patrons didn't care - they were there for the music. Usually jazz, sometimes blues, a bit of rock, the house band would go with wherever the mood was flowing. They tended to go for improvisation, drawing inspiration from wherever, whatever their musicians had been listening to recently. The audience tended to love it.

Amongst the varied crowd this night was the dark-haired angel, sipping on a double Oban on ice - one piece, no more, no less. He was relatively new to the city; he'd been there a few weeks, and already this place had lodged itself as one of his favourite haunts. The people there were often as entertaining as the music. After some time spent relaxing and enjoying the sounds, he would look around for a stranger to talk to, and there would be an abundance. Most would be reluctant at first, though something about him charmed them and they would open up, taking him for just another average, albeit friendly, bar-goer. None of them would recognise him as the man who might have filled in for the missing horn player, the sick bassist, or just the random guy that turned up to jam with the band every so often. The band wouldn't recognise him either, he made sure of that; they just found themselves the lucky recipient of an unusually skilled fill-in when one was needed. Tonight, he was content just to hang out and enjoy the music of others.

It was the reason he was there; not just in that small club nobody seemed to know the name of, not just in Boston either; why he was on the earthly plane to begin with. A primitive doctor when he'd been alive centuries beforehand, Macaziel - as his angelic name had come to be - had naturally gravitated towards the Coda, the seraphim of healing and music, the heavenly house of Raphael. There he'd learnt to channel his newfound holy energies into healing, found that the calling of his afterlife was similar (though vastly more effective) to that of his mortal life. Whilst learning there, time spent listening to the musicians of the Coda had inspired him to try it for himself - and, to his surprise, he found that he had a hidden talent for music. From then he split his time between his two specialities, working passionately to improve each. Of course, the passage of time means little to the immortal and he had centuries to improve them. He found himself as perhaps not amongst the very best of what Heaven had to offer, but still a well-regarded, talented healer, and he was coming to also be a fairly skilled musician, even when not harnessing the pure and holy power he was capable of using.

The music of the humans was something that fascinated him. Whilst Heaven is capable of beautiful, perfect music, mortals tend to have much more imagination. Perhaps the greater influence of evil gives more motivation for escapism, inspiration for the more restless vengeful songs; after all, they say that the devil has the best tunes. So he took a sabbatical. Over the many years, he'd made a number brief visits back down to Earth, some to keep the balance of good and evil in check, some to heal, and others just to learn what he could from the humans; no matter the cause, he'd find the time to seek out music to listen to, occasionally to join in with. This time that was the entire cause, and for an extended period; he'd been down for at least 12 years, wandering from place to place, attending all sorts of concerts, clubs, bars - whatever he could, whatever type of music. He loved it; away from the pleasant but strict environment of Heaven, there was much more freedom in the music, more expression - not to mention the extra freedom he was able to enjoy on a personal level. Sometimes he'd meet people, various creatures that needed help medically, or a moral push in the right direction. He did what he could, and just by virtue of these chance encounters he managed to spread a great deal of good, but that's what they'd be. Chance encounters. The rest of the time was all about sound.

So, he'd found his way meanderingly to this nameless club where a moderately attractive blonde woman was sidling up to him by the bar as he waited for his second Scotch to arrive. "Hey, sugar..." she purred - the cigarette hanging from her lips was obviously just one of many she'd had over the years if her voice was anything to judge by, though it added to her appeal in a strange way. "We were just wondering..." Her eyes were wandering down his body with an obvious desire. Being an angel, he was able to choose his appearance, even his sex, on leaving Heaven. As he always did, he went with something similar to what his mortal body had been. Still male, maybe taller, a few touch-ups. His choice had been a good one, at least to the taste of the female now coming on to him.

"Yes?" Macca looks up with an innocent smile to the woman, one which she returned - though innocence was absent from her own suggestive grin. Her mouth was open just enough to let her tongue poke out a little, dragging languidly along her top lip. Over her shoulder, he could see another woman - brunette, slightly more attractive, with a sprinkling of freckles - watching the pair intently. As he catches her gaze, she flashed him a cute smile. It was unusual enough for someone in this place to approach him first, considering the low profile he would keep. Two women at the same time? That was pretty strange.

The blonde tilts her head to indicate the other woman to him. "Sarah and I were wondering if you were here alone tonight... If you wanted to
change that?" She giggles playfully, and he catches the smallest glimpse of a couple of particularly sharp teeth.  Fangs? he wonders to himself. Vampire? Turning his head to thank the barman as his beverage arrives, he notices the mirrored surface on the wall behind the bar. Neither girl appeared in it, and when he turns back to look with drink in hand, they were both still there; 'Sarah' still trying for the sweet look, and blondie looking lustful and anticipant.

Just as Macca opens his mouth to reply, a piercing scream breaks through a quiet passage of the music, silencing the bar, even the band. A brief second later as the ears of the bar-patrons adjusted, they heard the other, quieter screams in the background, though more were starting to sound out, and much closer. Then the floor started to shake, and it didn't start subtly. There was a violent jolt, quickly continuing into a solid shaking of the room. The smashing of the glasses and bottles as they fell to the ground were barely audible as those inside the small club were now screaming at the top of their lungs, all scrambling to get to the stairwell, some climbing on top of others in their panic to get outside. It was a foolish pursuit as all they would find up there was utter destruction. Fallen buildings where large pieces of rock had hit, fire, bodies - and, of course, the rampaging armies of Hell. They had been vaguely protected inside the club - it was in the basement of a small building that was surrounded by larger ones in the metropolitan area. They'd been lucky. Or, more accurately, most of them weren't as they were alive briefly to see the horror and the utter evilness of those that would quickly cut them down, dismember them, gut them - some of Hell's beasts would even ravage their dead bodies, taking their dignities as well as their lives, though others would go on searching for the untouched to mow them down like the helpless beings they were in the face of such seemingly unstoppable force.

Down in the club still, Macca swore in frustration as he tried to help those still piling into one-another, dragging out those that had been trampled to the side where he'd leave them before going back to the crowd to find more of those less fortunate to drag out, occasionally stopping to gather them and heal them as best he could with the limited time he had. Three weren't able to be saved - two young women, and a boy - he could only have been 15. He'd obviously used a fake ID, but it was the sort of place where they'd barely check that you weren't just showing them a piece of paper. There was no time to mourn their loss - there were still people he could help. By the time the stairs had cleared, there were a few more still lying on the floor. Alive, still breathing, but unconscious. With his help, they would wake up alive, although with the situation, only a very few would last long.

The angel ran up and out into the street into the darkness and confusion, though there were no free demons to greet him. The majority had spread out into the city, and the others were busy with those that had been quicker to leave. "What the fuck..." he breathes, his eyes wide in anger and surprise. The Apocalypse? Already? He hadn't been warned. They hadn't known where he was. "I'll be on Earth for a few years. Just working on the music, ya know? Inspiration." Of course, it had been a longer conversation, but that was the gyst of it - no contact details left, no indication of where he'd be and when besides the rather unhelpful generalisations. They hadn't counted on such an event, and sabbaticals to Earth weren't uncommon.

He swivels around at the sound of a close-by grunt, realising that 'Sarah' and the blonde were teaming up on a single demon and doing surprisingly well. Their small frames hid their considerable strength that came from being undead, and the pair of them were attempting to beat a fiend that had made a swipe at one of them into submission. Of course he didn't submit, ploughing on as best he could to continue the slaughter. That lasted up until he realised he had a fist, which was attached to Sarah's arm, inside his throat via a hole that certainly hadn't been there a moment beforehand. Eyes of flame glared down at her; she simply smiled that same cute smile she'd earlier offered to Macca, uncurled her fingers inside the fiend's neck, and jolted it to the side with such force that it ripped through the skin, bone and muscle there, leaving the nameless slave of Hell to topple over as his blood sprayed from the wound. When he landed with his head dangling lifelessly from the skin and muscle remaining on the other side of his throat, joining the countless other bodies sprawled on the floor in the area - not the first of demonkind there certainly, but one of a much smaller number - the ladies of the night had already moved on, and were tugging Macca along with them.

"You're not one of them. You're not one of us. And you're definitely not one of the cattle," the one without a name said without looking at him; her eyes were instead focussed on the area around them, and she wasn't the only one looking around. They were all, understandably, paranoid. "Who are you, and what's happening?" she asked as they slip down an alleyway with a slightly low wall blocking off the end. Each of them knew themselves capable of making the jump over if they needed to, and it meant they only had to be on the guard from one side.

There was no point hiding it at this point. "I'm an angel, and it looks like it's the Apocalypse. You two are vampires." The reply was in a steady tone, his focus on the entrance to the alleyway ensuring he didn't see the surprised looks his statement of fact was getting. "You'll probably last better than the humans, as long as you keep your heads down, get away from the fighting."

"Those were demons?" Sarah says after a quiet moment with just a hint of fear in her voice. "But where are the other angels then? Wasn't it supposed to be a war? Does this mean the wor-" The rest of her question was blocked out by a sudden blast and a crash of bricks as one of the walls of the alley suddenly exploded, one of the flying blocks hitting her in the chest and sending her forcefully into the opposite wall. Just as she fell down, clutching at where she'd been hit two tall, looming creatures stepped through the rubble and the dust, stalking towards the trio with huge, malicious grins showing rotten yellowed teeth; the only visible feature of otherwise blackened faces and bodies. They were just a few metres away, and already they were snarling viciously. They were taking it slow, however, enjoying the obvious shock they'd caused, the pain Sarah was in, and the fear in the blonde vampire's eyes - they wanted to enjoy it, to play with their victims and revel in the suffering. Taking them all to be scared, mortal humans, the demons didn't notice Macca's silently moving lips or the glow building in his right hand. It was holy energy, blessed healing as he did a modified, silent version of his healing chant, and by the time the leering beasts were raising their fists to pummel the two still standing, Mac was ready. He lunged straight for the nearest one, driving the glowing fist towards its chest with a yell, pushing the energy into it; as he had suspected, the creature of Hell recoiled, injured by the blessing as if it was holy water. This was enough to distract the second of them, and the blonde vampire pounced it in a flash, tearing at its throat until it fell down lifeless, spurting black liquid from its wounds. Injured and confused, the first demon saw its fallen comrade, turned around and fled the alleyway as best it could, black smoke pouring from the contact with the angel's fist.

It was just then that a fanfare cut through the air, a strong harmony promising glory, and the dark sky filled with light for a brief moment - as the three looked up, a sight winged army wielding bows and flaming swords greeted them. At the front Macca could make out a single figure leading them downwards. He knew it would be Michael even if he couldn't see the angel's face. "Get out of here," he said with a glance at the vampires. Sarah had struggled up to her feet, and her friend had gone over to give her support. "Hide somewhere 'til it's over." Without waiting for them to reply he straightened up and tensed for a moment, unfurling large, pure white feathered wings from his back which tore the shirt from his body. With a flick to shrug the material away, he crouched down before pushing off from the ground, the powerful wings pushing the air behind him as he flew up to meet the army. He could see he wasn't the only one, with other angels, individuals usually but with the occasional pair, flying up at the same time from various distances, the flow a little sparse but went on as far as he could see. Others that had been visiting the mortals. There were a few arrows fired down towards some of the ascending - when he looked around in surprise he saw that they weren't hitting his own kind, but the other foul winged things that were falling back to earth, the demons capable of flight that had been trying to pick off the individuals.

Trusting in the archers to watch his back Macca flew on upwards without looking behind him, the familiar rush of freedom flight always brought him mixing with the adrenaline the situation gave; despite the seriousness, he was grinning. All too soon he was there, reporting in with the latecomers' hastily formed squadrons at the side.

"Macaziel of Raphael's seraphim, sir!" he said with a salute to one of the officers directing the newly arrived fliers.

"Fifth battalion, the seventh to my right. Next?" came back the barked, dismissive reply and Macca flew over to said squad, his eyes catching on the weapons held by the others he passed. A lot of flaming swords were being held ready by the sides of the angels. He'd probably have had one himself if he'd been prepared; in the situation all he had was a small knife he kept with him.

He'd barely got in line with his assigned battalion, just had time to nod to a few familiar faces, when the fanfare sounded again, rousing a loud cry from the assembled: "CAELITUS NOSTRUM VIRES!" With a great fluttering of wings the angels charged down as one towards what appeared at the distance to be a rising dark cloud. The rest of the winged creatures of darkness were approaching them at speed, a much deeper roar from them mixed in with a steady background clanging of metal against metal getting louder as the armies met. As soon as the frontlines collided there were yells, horrible crunching noises as the demons, some of them heavily armoured while others had no need for it with their exceptionally tough skin, drove easily through the first wave of the angels swinging about all kinds of weapons - blunt, edged, spiked, cursed, and everything in between. A few of the demons were taken down but in that first assault Macca saw mostly bright white figures falling downwards - ones that he and many of his battalion flew down towards, the medics of the Heavenly army, to aid those that they could catch before they fell to a squishy landing on the ground far below. Himself, he managed to grab two and push his healing energies into them enough to get them flying back up on their own through the mix of falling angelic and demonic bodies, of hovering wings of actively healing seraphim, and of the blurs that were the other seraphim pushing themselves down faster even than the falling in order to catch up with those needing the help.

Soon enough he joined them, diving down again to catch his next angel to save. Angling himself to aim towards a close set of white wings, arms outstretched and wings close to his body to help streamline his fall, he reached out as soon as he thought he was close enough. Sure enough he managed to wrap his fingers around his target's arm, but immediately he sensed something was wrong. Instead of a limp limb, the arm was tensed - and within a moment the image of the angel faded, replaced with the wicked grin of a pale but red-eyed demoness who was already swinging a serrated blade at him with the arm he wasn't holding. He let out a yell as it slashed across his shoulder, cutting deeply and forcing him to release the grip he had, making him instinctively fall back with a push from his wings while the new wound spilled blood towards the ground. The demoness kept coming, seemingly wild slashes having an uncanny accuracy while all the angel could do was tug his own smaller blade out and try to retaliate against the vicious onslaught. Despite getting in a few hits, a couple of slices, he was at a disadvantage from starting off-guard - and while he wasn't that well trained for melee combat the demoness was clearly an expert, and just as clearly enjoying it.

The whole thing was over within a few seconds as a surprise blow from her fist drove into his stomach, and as he doubled over her blade came over to slice across the base of his right wing, cutting a connecting muscle. Immediately it stopped flapping, going limp as the angel yelled out, beginning a long plummet to Earth. He could see his assailant in pursuit with a predatory grin, steadily gaining on him. Her evil-looking blade was poised to stab right into his chest, was inches from it when the shadow came from behind her, engulfing the light. A split second passed and she rose up - or from his perspective, fell away - screaming profainities as arms tugged her away, a flash of white wings identifying his saviour as another angel. His relief was shortlived however, as he whipped his head around, his single working wing beating uselessly. Something rose up - there was just time to work out it was a building that zoomed past before a sickening crunch, a moment of intense, white-hot pain and then... nothing.

---

A weak groan was the first and only thing Macca heard as he woke up. His chest was the first part to complain at him and he realised the sound was from his own mouth, just as the rest of his body rushed to shout its agony at him. Slowly he opened his eyes, dreading what he was about to see - surprised, in fact, that he wasn't back on the celestial plane where he'd have felt nothing like the torture his body was giving him. Oddly, he didn't seem to have broken anything. His first thought at the vision was that he'd fallen too far. Not just to Earth, but fallen spiritually, arrived in the domain the demons had sprung from themselves. As he got used to the atmosphere though he recognised it for what it was - the aftermath of a huge, bloody battle. Semi-demolished buildings burned in the background, the ones that had survived at all - but the main thing he saw was bodies. Still, lifeless bodies of all sorts - human, angelic, demonic, some others he didn't even recognise - littered over around the streets, most of them damaged horribly. Aside from the crackling of flames, it was eerily silent. He turned, every muscle used to do it aching in complaint, and found himself right by a brick wall of what looked like it might have been a small garage, and found an exquisitely written note on the back of a slightly burned flyer. "Angel - we saw you fall. After the demon from earlier we owed you... You should be mostly healed by the time you read this. If not, sit and rest a while. It will come."

He started to push himself up but his muscles screamed some more at him until he took the note's advice, stopping to sit for a few minutes, letting his body come to terms with the punishment it had endured and staring out at the vast destruction. There was no sign of the vampires. The pain faded faster than he'd thought, down to a dull throbbing, so experimentally he tried to rise again, this time managing to stagger to his feet. Slowly he started to wander down the road strewn with bodies, searching for any signs of life. He only found one - the slight rising and falling of the chest of a small androgenous child. He bend down to it, shutting his eyes and placing his hands on it as he chants, light shining from him as his energy goes into the child, healing up the wounds, the broken bones it had suffered. As soon as he was done, the child jumped up, gave Macca a terrified look, that of a soul that had literally looked into the heart of Hell, and sprinted off before he could stop it. It turned a corner and vanished, hidden amongst the wrecks - the exhausted angel didn't have a chance of finding it. He heaved a heavy sigh and trudged onwards, out of the fallen city - looking for a place he could actually help.
 
 
18 September 2010 @ 01:33 am
Author: Xombie Khaos







Los Angeles. What a fucking dump. People all across the US screamed and hollered about what a great city it was but all he ever saw it to be was a cesspool of thieves, assholes, sluts, and self-important faggots who's perception of the world didn't extend a single mircobe beyond the end of their collective dicks. This is how he saw the city. This is the city he'd come to call home. This is the city he'd come to use as his hunting ground.

Afghanistan started it. Iraq actually weakened it some. But Las Angeles enraged it. His lust for violence and killing was something he'd tried to cope with, see doctors about, and even do a few drugs to be rid of but nothing helped. Other people sought sex, drugs, alcohol, and partying at clubs. He sought out lives to snuff. It was a pass-time, it was a hobby, with was a way of life. It was no wonder he easily landed a job cleaning up after people. By cleaning up, of course, this meant killing those considered to be the loose ends of very rich people. It was amazing what a well trained and only somewhat armed soldier can do with a small bit of motivation and a blood lust.

Las Angeles was a maze in its alleys sometimes. Chasing people was for amateurs. He quickly saw the need to gain ground above everyone and he took this to a literal meaning. He began to learn to find quicker methods of vertical travel and eventually found himself a regular urban free-runner. It felt great to be able to scale walls and almost fly over roof tops to pursue someone for the kill. There was nothing else like it. Be it with his sniper rifle or his favorite knives he enjoyed every moment in the act of ending someone's life.

All good things come to an end.

The day started off simple enough. He woke up, brushed his teeth, grabbed breakfast at a diner. It was steak and eggs with a stack of pancakes. He topped it off with a large glass of OJ and a mug of coffee. He went back to his house to find a letter stuck in the mail and read it. The job is described seemed simple enough. Kill some poor sod of a woman that had made her way quickly to the top of the LA food chain. Not a problem. He even decided, despite her body guards, to do this with his knives. What was life without challenges? This Suzanna Soiyinka was going to get a knife to the face and maybe he'd keep a trophy. Perhaps those oddly shaped teeth of hers?

Noon hit. He found himself on top of a building looking down at another building. The commercial district was buzzing beneath him as he waited for his target to leave that place. She seemed to be hitting up various blood banks around the city for some odd reason, but it didn't matter to him. He simply waited. He spun his knives in his hands as he waited, his eyes fixated on the doors far below. With the naked eye most people wouldn't have been able to figure out if she'd left or not yet but he was more than used to it. His eyes were far more keen than most, and even his vision tests could vouch to this. He waited... and waited... and waited.

About half an hour after he began to think he should have brought a snack he finally saw her leaving the building. The body guards, two Twilight goths with more straps and fluffy hair than a sheep at a sex club carried a large crate with them. A car rolled up, on cue, to pick them up. He smiled a bit. As he watched them go he knew they'd be heading into traffic. He sheathed his knives and stretched. He had the means to break through the windows and fuck her face with edged goodness so he had no issues with what was to happen.

Or at least that was the idea. He looked down at the others on the streets, everyone pointing up and screaming. He knew he wasn't enough to warrant such attention so he doubted it was him they were afraid of. Looking around he saw nothing but finally looked up, expecting to see another 9/11 in progress. What he saw was far worse. A large comet of some sort of far too close for comfort and the sky rained with a large chunk of it. Smaller parts flew off as well and sprayed down, hitting buildings, cars, and people alike. He looked down at the street as it turned into a tsunami of screaming pedestrians and the cars that ran them over. People were ground under tires and feet alike, turning many of them into minced flesh and blooded muscle mass. He smiled at the carnage, finding the stupidity of the masses to be all too amusing.

Something in the back of his mind, however, was far from amused. He turned back to the comet only to see a chunk of it headed right at him. He looked down the building and sighed as it was far too high for him to survive the landing. He looked around the roof, knowing the impact would still either send him flying off or even collapse the building around him. He scratched his head and looked back up at the hostile piece of space rock and smiled once more. He straightened himself out, throwing his hoodie over his head. He adjusted his jacket and took a deep breath. Upon exhale he began to chuckle. The chuckle grew and grew until he was laughing insanely and right as the chunk was about to hit him he threw himself at it, flicking it off as he challenged its strength.

A large explosion rang from the roof of that building, the whole thing impacted upon and collapsed. The energies in the piece of space rock settled, no longer giving it the sinister life it once had. Instead this energy went to a new purpose, for there had been someone who actually had the gall to challenge it. There was someone who actually took it head on and lost but with all the enjoyment of a child on a playground. This person would be rewarded for his courage or insanity. He would take in the arcane energies of the rock despite the liquefied state he was in. One day he would return a changed man. An Undead man. He'd return as Xombie.
 
 
17 September 2010 @ 12:50 pm
OFFICIAL CONTEST 1 ONE WEEK REMINDER!!
Hoping to see more of you submitting so we don't have a winner by default!

all details regarding the first contest reposted...click here!Collapse )

Winners will be announced on 9/24. You have until then to get your entry in for this contest.


Good luck and hope to see a lot of you out there giving this a go! If it is successful I will keep it up & the more interest the bigger the prizes get!!
 
 
Current Mood: disappointeddisappointed
 
 
 
15 September 2010 @ 12:04 am
Author: Lady Araulya Coronet

To an Immortal, time never ends but what do you do with eternity when the rest of the world does?
To be honest, I sat curled up reading The Ultimate Hitchiker's Guide after a long day of getting myself dirty. I had been up to my elbows in soil samples, gathering plants, knowing that the world would be ending soon, I just did not realize this soon. The first Shockwave broke the glass upstairs and shook the entire complex. Dropping my favorite comedy I ran upstairs to see the first black clouds moving swiftly towards us in the distance. I raced to gather up food for the small zoo down in the labs, making mad dashes downstairs, knowing that by days end I would end up exhausted from the judicious use of time manipulation but that it needed to be done or the rabbits and others would completely perish when the next waves hit us. The cacophony as I descended again sent me tumbling down the steps ungracefully, food scattering followed by enough cussing to make an angel blush. But gathering up myself I ran back up to try and get more, making repeated trips to the most horrific sounds which didn't even include the bombs hitting or the repeated Shockwave as the earth trembled. As soon as I thought we'd have enough to feed them in the coming weeks while the crops continued to grow I sealed the doors and set about soothing the screeching beasts, trying to calm everyone down I found that my puppy had run back up on my last trip to try and find me and gotten locked outside. Sliding to the floor I curled up and wept, I fully expected the little bugger wouldn't make it in what was happening topside. Drifting off to sleep I woke when my small charges started complaining for food and gathering myself up I swept up their food and filled everyone's dish.
For two weeks we settled into a routine feedings broken up by play and letting them wander in the herbs for a bit of exercise. The sounds subsided but I didn't go up till weeks ends. I wanted to make sure someone in their stupidity didn't hit one last button before croaking. I dressed carefully that first day, full mask even though I didn't breathe. Skin covered hair bound and hidden. I didn't wish to chance infecting my small charges.

Stepping into the decontamination I sealed myself off from the kids and waited for the outside stenches to assail me only to be attacked as the doors opened by a small slightly glowing furball who promptly circled my legs barking and leaping up until I gathered him in my arms so he could proceed to lick my mask happily. Sobbing I held him close before putting him down and looking at what was left of our desert home. Surprisingly little had changed outwardly, my choice of underground havens away from the cities of man proved to be a sound one and while the skies were ruined for awhile I thought towards the day I'd see blue skies again and we could bring the world beneath back up again to restore this now broken world.
We wandered for days, my little Rad and I. I changed his name to Rad short for radiation, stopping when he found himself something he'd pounce and eat we looked for any human survivors in the world. He was irritable and pissy sometimes trying to bite me when I pet him but we slowly worked out a partnership as my blood sustained him and kept him from dying from the problems in the air. We made it to Phoenix finally and looking around I sobbed, destruction everywhere. Bodies laying dead in the streets we wandered for hours seeking any sighs of life.
We camped out at nights in any high place up off the ground keeping a weathered eye out for others of my kind, any survivors at all. Rad would howl late at night and that week we were out slowly small bits of life started to make itself known. We walked, and as much as I hated Phoenix in life I really started hating it dead even. Rad has a little nose like a bloodhound and we gathered supplies that have survived ferrying them back to the base during the hottest parts of the day book, food, blankets, any computers or gadgets I could jerry rig to working that might be useful in the times to come.

Phoenix was dead, we turned west and eventually we found Lost Angeles. Calling them survivors, a joke, but here and there slowly I began to see a serene heart behind the mask of evil. One here or there, dark ones as well unfortunately hell bent on destroying..well finishing what they started. I stayed silent, I took Rad home to protect our little ones. I watched, I waited, I gathered things others would over look. Slowly they gathered themselves into factions based on their desires or goals and still I watched.
Angels began to return, snobs, gentle hearts, whores, assholes. They ran the gambit as often as the demons do but still I watched and waited. The Coven, a group of vampires all so young, saw me but did not like my answers for they asked stupid questions. It was I they called nothing and still I watched and waited. The Brood would not have me back..I had changed far to much from the beauty I'd once been and these young upstarts did not remember the chosen. I watched, and waited.
A fallen angel noticed and finally spoke to me. Not as if I were an idiot but an equal, I returned the politeness and slowly I began to speak with others. The rude children who had snubbed me I ignored, their drama was not my problem, their care not part of my charges. I have begun to have friends again, slowly I start to feel accepted just as I am. Taken in by a faction I'd never expected to accept me I find my skills as a botanist in need though not for the world that awaits these new children for most do not seem to care about re birthing a new world, but for my skills to find out what is going wrong. I feel the next evolution coming and I know fear, always I have known what the change would be like but for now it is clouded and I hope not to hurt those I have come to consider charges as well. Rad and I still spend most of our nights alone when we leave the city, crying into the night for we are lonely and while we call a few family and friend there are none we can share fully with, none who share the dream with. The tears fall on a dead world now and I remain the relic of all man once was. I am the keeper of a lost world, of beauty none will ever again desire.

Sometimes I laugh almost in madness, remembering old movies some like foreshadowing that have come true, others things that still come to be, I am the time machine itself and my dear precious eloi know nothing of their own personal world anymore. Soylent Green a truth that disgusts me but which feeds the lazy masses who no longer care for the world which gave them live even while a new disease crops up to worry away one at a time who continues to shit on her face. When it becomes to much, i pull out the old movies and I watch gentler times when man knew beauty and life and I try to see those I've come to care for in the characters long dead now. I return to the city almost nightly now. Still I watch, I hope and I wait.
 
 
11 September 2010 @ 02:12 am
Contest #1:
The Day The Whole World Went Away


Write a submission about where your character was on the day in that fateful Summer when the Earth first passed through Wormwood. Write about your character's experience, wherever they were and whatever they were doing.

Reminder from the official History of Lost Angels

In the summer of 2032, after it already seemed the human race was in its darkest hour, the Armageddon of religious prophecy began. The Earth itself, passing through the tail of a massive comet named Wormwood, was enshrouded in several months of near total darkness and burning hydrocarbon fire and huge cometary fragments cascaded through the sky, blasting the cities and the landscapes of the world and setting the them afire again. In the chaos that ensued, the first gates from Hell opened and the demons poured through ravenously, killing humans and immortals without care or preference, and the wars began again with all the factions fighting each other and the demons on all sides.

During the onslaught, a great trump was sounded, and the skies caught aflame from horizon to horizon, and down from heaven came the Angels of God, bearing the flaming swords of justice and riding velocipedes into battle...flying through the skies with holy vengence, they fell upon the demons, fighting them in a timeless battle between good and evil on the very streets of Earth itself.

Humanity raised its hands in supplication, crying out to be saved by the angels, taken up to heaven and saved by the Rapture, but the Angels just passed them by, the fight between God and Lucifer having absolutely nothing to do with humans after all.





Submit your entries on this journal as a separate post. If you do not have a livejournal you can either contact me with your post or you can post using the 'community' account colastories. The password is: number1 .

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Winners will be announced on 9/24. You have until then to get your entry in for this contest.


Good luck and hope to see a lot of you out there giving this a go! If it is successful I will keep it up & the more interest the bigger the prizes get!!
 
 
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11 September 2015 @ 12:59 am
Welcome to Our CoLA Stories. The city of Lost Angels is an amazing community of incredibly talented writers. The characters there are fleshed out a much as they're constantly bleeding out, proving that backstory and thought is as important as your CCS level. If not infinitely moreso.

This community was created for an ongoing monthly contest of character fiction. This contest is intended to bring out the writer in all of us. Allow us to see the writing style of people we might not interact with in the city during normal RP. Give us an opportunity to learn new and exciting things about characters we thought we've known entirely prior. To celebrate the creative geniuses behind the avatars.

This sticky post is the rules of the contest. There will be a new contest up about once a month. Each contest will have a theme. The rules are not up to interpretation. This post is written before the first run of the contest. If needed, these rules may change in the future but I will not change things without notifying everyone.

Standard Disclaimer: CoLA does not belong to me, it's brilliant story and everything within it is the creative property of Suzanna Soyinka and her team. This contest is in no way CCS related and you cannot gain XP from this contest. The stories posted here are 100% the creative property of the respective authors and may at no time be reposted anywhere else without their consent. Suz, CoLA's staff, or anyone else from CoLA are not involved in this contest in any way. Any opinions or views expressed are entirely mine and do not reflect on Suz, CoLA, Secondlife, or ANYONE/THING but me.

The winner of the contest will get a prize of 1500L! All entrants will get a graphic and top 3 outside of the winner will get a custom graphic of their choice (CoLA related or not).

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