outside

Aug. 5th, 2013 05:03 pm
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
The outside is a sea of white light, an infinity of energy in semi-stable waves. Time moves forward and backward and in stranger directions. Standing waves shift gradually and sometimes form very complex patterns; sentient or semi-sentient entities can develop. These we call Outsiders.

Some outsiders, for unknown reasons, roam around gathering as much of the endless sea of energy into themselves as possible, growing to incredible size (though the outside has no real sense of scale). We call these outsiders azathoths. When an azathoth has absorbed enough energy and often engulfed several smaller outsiders in the process, it begins to collapse in on itself, bending the timespace and energy waves around it and creating a bubble, a dark spot in the sea of white. Eventually it contracts down to a single point, a vast amount of energy condensed into almost zero physical space. The resulting explosion creates what we think of as reality. Within the azathoth’s bubble, time flows in one direction and physical laws and constants remain static. Our reality bubble contains not only what we think of as our universe but also a multitude of alternate realities and otherworlds reachable by various forms of magic.

Certain kinds of outsiders have an affinity for our type of universe and are drawn to it. As it ages, the bubble naturally develops small tears that allow smaller outsiders to reach inside and manifest themselves. Eventually, when our universe approaches its final heat-death, these tears will open completely and the whole bubble will dissolve. For now, they merely allow strange beings to invade our reality for various purposes.

Most outsiders we simply cannot comprehend in any way, but the outsiders who cluster around our universe were drawn there because they relate to its nature in some way. Outsiders who actually manifest within our world must allow the bubble’s rules to shape them somewhat. The resulting manifestations are still very alien, but sentients from our universe are usually able to at least communicate with them.

The ‘tears’ in our universe often take unexpected forms. It is relatively common for a ‘tear’ to exist within the mind of a sentient being. People who contain/embody tears are called summoners, and have a certain affinity for the outside and for outsiders. Powerful summoners are said to be able to hear the voices of outsiders begging for a way in.

Outsiders often form pacts and contracts with summoners, in which the outsider will help the summoner in some way in exchange for access to the world. Contracts are more formal arrangements which end when both sides fulfill their obligation, pacts are more informal and involve a relationship between the summoner and outsider.

Most commonly, outsiders want summoners to grant them a haunt or a hallow. Outsiders can project a physical body into our world, but cannot keep it stable outside the influence of a summoner or rift unless they also have a haunt or hallow. A haunt is often described as an outsider’s footprint in our world. To create one, a summoner must perform a ritual that allows a significant portion of an outsider to enter our world and ‘possess’ a place. The smallest possible haunts are spaces like closets, but outsiders of such small size are quite rare. Most haunts are between the size of a bedroom and a large house; outliers on the large side can be the size of an entire town.

Hallows are found at the heart of the haunts of outsiders who are very firmly entrenched in our world. Other outsiders can be thought of as containing little universes of their own; hallows are places where those pocket universes overlap with ours. The influence of the outsider is exceptionally strong in this place and physical laws may not be as expected.

There are two unusual classes of outsiders encountered in our universe. The Unwelcome, sometimes called intruders, are entities that should not be here. They may be parasites or may have taken a wrong turn somehow in the chaos Outside; there’s no real way of knowing. The Unwelcome are antithetical to the existence of our reality bubble and do not conform to its rules the same way normal visitors do. They are probably sentient but nobody has ever successfully communicated with them. Their presence causes bizzare and damaging distortions to time and space and they must be removed as soon as possible.

Insiders are the Outsiders that were originally engulfed by the azathoth before our reality was created. Unlike all other Outsiders, they exist entirely within our reality and its laws have grown up to accommodate their existence. They all have important functions within reality, most of which we do not understand. We are most familiar with the handful of insiders who act as the universe’s immune system, eliminating the Unwelcome and acting to repair or prevent large, uncontrolled tears and rifts.

Chapter 1

Jun. 2nd, 2013 11:10 am
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
This is the first part of a story about fairies and other things.


A girl was walking in the rain, about halfway between school and the train station that would take her home. She wore a dull orange raincoat with the hood pulled tight around her head and walked slowly, dawdling occasionally to watch streams of water drain into the sewer grates. She didn’t mind the rain, not when it was warm and relatively light. She liked the sounds of water and the way the world looked when everything was wet.

Her name was Autumn. She was going to miss her train home, but that was okay; there would be another train in ten minutes or so. She was probably going to fail an essay in intro to philosophy, which was due at midnight and which she hadn’t started -- that was less okay, but she’d still pass the class, probably. Her boyfriend of four months had finally broken up -- by text message -- after avoiding her for two weeks; that was definitely not okay but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do without it besides cry, which she had already done earlier that afternoon and seemed redundant when it was raining anyway.

He had been following her for several minutes already by the time she saw him. He could smell her wistful loneliness, her lack of purpose or direction. He was still sizing her up when she turned, dark eyes raking across him. There was strength in that gaze, almost enough to rip through his glamours and charms like so many cobwebs. But not quite, not here in the rain between places. He stepped forward.

He was average height with a slightly rounded figure and wore a knee-length raincoat of a deep and vivid blue-green which hung open, showing an odd, patchwork vest of shades of brown. His pants and shirt were deep green, his hair was brownish, and the whole lot of him was soaking wet. His smile was radiant and there was a slow, fluid, confident sway to his walk. The word ‘beautiful’ rose unbidden in Autumn’s head. She was not used to applying the word to boys and men, but it seemed more appropriate than the alternatives for this odd person.

He said, “Hello,” and she replied,

“Hello. Why don't you put your hood up?”

He shrugged. “I like water.”

She nodded slowly. They were walking side-by-side toward the train station, now. “I’m Autumn.”

“You can call me Viridian,” he said. “I thought you looked lonely.”

“Yeah,” she said, and, staring into the rain ahead of them, she told him about her now ex-boyfriend, about his laughter and smile and his kind of funny-looking nose and how nice her hand felt in his, about how he’d slowly lost interest in her, drifted away. She told him about school, about her frustration with her written assignments, about the overall lack of direction that was slowly undermining her life. She wasn’t sure why she told him any of this--she was a habitually silent person and rarely discussed her own life even with close friends. Something about the rain, and the walk, and the warmth of his presence beside her, made the talking easy. It felt good, like the rain was washing her worries away even as she spoke them. Occasionally he would nod and say something sympathetic and encourage her to continue.

She realized, once she was finished, that she had spoken for at least ten minutes and that they must surely have passed the station by now. She looked around to try to get her bearings. The rain was coming down as a sort of dense, slowly descending mist, now, and she could hardly see anything.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?”

He stopped and turned to her, eyes twinkling. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I mean... the train station, but we’ve passed that already, I should go back...”

“We are on the threshold,” he said. “From here we can step backward or forward.” He touched her hand and she felt a rush of strange euphoria, like the mist around her had leaked into her head. “Will you come with me?” She didn’t really understand, but had a indistinct feeling that she was supposed to say ‘yes’ and follow him. But, on a deeper level, she knew that she didn’t particularly want to. She brushed his hand away and said,

“I’m hungry, I really need to get home and start on supper. I should head back before I miss the next bus.” He looked disappointed and a little hurt, but he shrugged and the fog in her head dissipated.

“Alright,” he said, “We can step backwards for now. Um... would you accept a gift, and perhaps consider accompanying me on a later date?” He fished something out of the pocket of his raincoat and held it out to her.

It was a bracelet made of green and red coloured wire, woven together intricately to form a network of tiny vines and flowers. Even under the overcast sky, it sparkled and gleamed beautifully. Her eyes widened. “Did you make that? It’s very nice.” Autumn herself made and sold small things like this sometimes, usually made from clay, but this was far more elaborate than anything she’d made. She traced the wires with one finger and shivered a little. There was something unsettling about that pattern.

“Yes,” he said, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Took almost a week, very tricky to, um,” he stopped himself. “Do you want to try it on?”

“Can I really just have it? Don’t you want something in exchange?”

He frowned. “Only a promise that you’ll come through the door with me at least once.”

Autumn stood still, staring at the bracelet and listening to the rain. It was difficult to think in this in-between place, but she was distinctly aware of a right choice and a wrong choice.

She made the wrong choice. “Agreed. I’ll take it.”

His eyes widened and he fidgeted nervously with the bracelet as if suddenly having second thoughts. “You’re sure?” She nodded and extended her arm. He fastened it soundlessly around her wrist.

The rain stopped; she was at the station. She stopped for a moment and looked around--for a moment, she’d been certain there was somebody following her, but of course there was nobody nearby.

She took the train home and made herself supper, and it wasn’t until she finally sat down to write her essay that she noticed the strange and beautiful bracelet around her wrist. She had no idea where she’d gotten it and couldn’t seem to figure out how it unfastened. After a few minutes of toying with it she shrugged and gave up. It was very pretty, and very comfortable for something made of little wires, and she was sure she’d remember where it came from soon enough.
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
    A few kilometres off highway one, just outside the town of Lakes Eye, a modest house sits on the crest of an unusually large hill.  A long, narrow dirt road, seldom used, connects the building to the highway, and great stands of trees shelter it from the harsh winds.  The grass around the house is high and wild, and the once tamed roses along the pathway have grown into menacing brambles; nobody has set foot in this place for some years.

    If you were to visit this derelict home, braving the bumps and pot-holes of the untended road, pushing through the thorn-choked path, creeping passed the rotten, collapsing walls and floorboards to the lower levels, you would discover something quite incredible.  The structure is like an iceberg; its meagre, decrepit protrusion above ground belies its true immensity.  Basements give way to sub-basements and sub-sub-basements, while open pits with no visible means of descent plummet further down into inpenetrable darkness.  Even more alarming, unlike the rotten house the subterranian chambers and passages are in pristine condition.

    Should you persist in exploring these eeiry, echoing corridors you might hear, from a great distance, the sound of a pen feverously scratching away, or, even more faintly, the high-pitched, sing-song whistle of a little toy train.

Ha, I did manage to get a train in there somewhere :D  This is actually all I have so far but oh well >.>  hopefully this run at it will work out better than the previous.

alas

Oct. 25th, 2010 01:39 pm
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
With great reluctance and after a lot of thought, I have decided to shelve bluebird and work on a different alibi-related story. The trouble is that I started with a world-saving story that doesn't work with the setting, and even after removing a major subplot and changing the context around significantly, I feel like I am bending over backwards to force things to fit together when I could just be using things that fit together in the first place. I may or may not come back to the story, but at the least I'll end up using the good characters and story elements from it elsewhere. New story is provisionally titled 'railroad' and I have no idea where I'm going with it, but on the other hand that's how the only completed alibi story started too ^-^;   I do now know, from hard experience, several places I am NOT going with it.  Here is  a preview.

They waited in silence. The station was utterly deserted. Fallen leafs migrated lazily across the parking lot in the autumn breeze. A streetlight in the distance decided it was close enough to night-time and flickered to life. Virgil eyed his watch.

“It’s here,” he said. There was no train in sight, nor even a faint rumbling to disturb the sepulchral silence of the station. The tracks were rusted over from disuse.

Daniel nodded and pulled a pair of brown cloaks from her backpack. They donned the cloaks, pulled the hoods down so their faces were covered, then together took a step off the platform, over the yellow danger line and into the hollow where, years ago, a train might have been. They disappeared.
 

(I may or may not have started this story entirely for a chance to use 'sepulchral silence' in a sentence >.>)
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
"Cory did not exactly like James, but the strange-looking fellow had yet to actually lie to him, give him bad advice or try to steal his car.  So, he was practically a saint next to Cory’s last few therapists."

So, Bluebird (or Blue Wings Silver Strings, which I plan to use as the final title.)   Wordcount as of writing is 9223 following a series of fairly savage cuts, and there are still a few scenes I need to rewrite for continuity.  This story has been an interesting journey and I'm pretty proud that it's still happening ^-^  Literally the ONLY thing that has survived from the story I originally planned is... well... the bluebird.  So what I have left is basically a bunch of stuff I made up as I went along.  This is going pretty well for me, but it's a writing scheme that calls for an awful lot of editing.  If I'm gonna be throwing stuff in freely, I've got to be just as ready to toss them out if they don't fit >.>

The story as it stands revolves around four central characters, three of whom are Lycans of some sort.  And of course blue itself.  Like my last story, I focus on the characters with their various character flaws and past trauma, and try to bring everything to a satisfying conclusion.  Oh, and the world gets saved in there somewhere I guess (and lots of things turn into other things.)  There's a darker tone to this one than the last one, mostly because my characters here have more problems to deal with.  I'm not quite sure but I think I'm at least halfway done at this point.  Maybe.  I am pretty confident that I can finish this though.  Don't know how long it will take but it will happen!  Stay tuned.

By the way, I'm always looking for feedback on my last story >.>b  Need to figure out what worked and what didn't.  You're probably best downloading it either at FA or at the Crimson Flag Forum.  It's call Dragon and Mask and it is about someone who claims to be a dragon on the internet because he actually is a dragon.  So let me know what you think!

Well...

Sep. 18th, 2010 02:47 pm
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
Well.

Well well.

Well what does that even mean? Well. Three o'clock and all's well? But why do we say 'well listen' or 'well anyway' or 'well if you come this way'. It doesn't mean anything really. It weakens the sentence a bit, to prefix it with 'well'. It says, 'well this is just what I'm saying,' it takes the edge off of a boldfaced declaration of fact. Sometimes its just a spoken punctuation mark to begin a sentence. Well. Well it seems to work just fine, anyway.


And that was your pointless creative-writing preface for this entry.

This part is the actual journal post. )
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
He wasn’t fast enough.  One of the beast’s shoulder-spikes caught him in the side and tossed him nearly twenty feet up.  He felt bones break when he was hit, and more when he hit the ground.  A pool of red formed around the gaping hole in his side.  The world faded...

“...this is the little one, is he?”  said the coyote.  “He’s the one you’ve picked?”

“With your permission, cousin.  He is one of yours, after all,” said the man.

“Barely.  He is a coyote, but you don’t need my permission, he works for you don't he?   I’ll grant it anyway   But, isn’t he a wee bit dead right now?  Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, see?”

“Not for much longer.  He’s already starting to wake up.”

“Hey, I think you’re right.  Thats weird...”

...Cory blinked.  He worked his fingers; they moved without pain.  He pushed himself upright.

Story coming along pretty good :D  I've got a plot and a villain and a conclusion worked out and everything.  Its at just over 7000 words now, gonna be mega-long probably.
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
Well.  This is, um, finished.  I've never written anything even remotely this long or involved before... it feels kinda weird.  I hope you like it...

Here we go.


Long story is over 14000 words. )
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
 
Is there really a song?
I thought I remembered
A scrap of a shadow,
The clearest of notes

I was lost for so long
I thought I'd discovered
A hope of escaping
In fragments of tune.

I once thought I was wrong
Was just an illusion
A thing misremembered
Of simpler times.

And yet still there's the song
Melodious rapture
Still haunting my mem'ry
From just out of reach.

And I think, though I long
To truly remember
Twas merely invention
There was never a song.

- The Song That Never Was
 


It occurs to me that I could do poetry requests or commission probably more easily and better than stories, but I'm not so sure anyone would really be interested >.> Ah well.

Anyway journally things: I'm going back to university in a couple of weeks, and my major has expanded to become a double major in English and Biology, which I have high hopes of getting done in only one extra year of school if nothing goes pear-shaped. Still have no real plan for what I'm gonna do after that <.<

Also, my roommate for the past two years has decided he can't afford to live in residence any more so I'm going to have an unknown factor as a roommate, which is pretty scary because autism and all >.< But we'll just have to see how it goes. The res people do know I have autism so hopefully I can trust them to give me someone they know I can deal with <.<

Lessee what else... Oh yeah, one of the Alibi stories I'm working on is coming along magnificently, wordcount around 4300 ^-^ And with more of an actually-thought-through plot than anything else I've written thus far, I think. Here's a sneak peek for yas ^-^
 
 
“That’s ok.  Have you seen, um, have you...” Marty faltered.  Had Skywing really been telling the truth?  Even after the magical gate and the giant pillar of blue fire, it was hard to swallow.  I mean, you expect to find weird things through magical portals, you don’t expect to bump into them in internet chatrooms.

“Sorry, I can’t quite hear you there,”

“Have you seen a dragon?”

Mercy

Mar. 15th, 2010 02:34 am
aliaspseudonym: (Default)
Warning.  The story that follows is really quite depressing.


Read. )
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