16-06-12, 18:54 | #1501 |
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Attention!!!
So my brother wrote a book.
It is awesome. I read it twice. I never read. Nuff said ! More info here!! http://www.tombraiderforums.com/show...=1#post6259752 |
28-06-12, 12:18 | #1502 |
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Death Row Sermon
Hi there. I've just published my ebook online. If you'd like a copy please PM me
One of my friends called it a "Deeply flawed and compelling masterpiece". Definitely not for the conservative reader whom it will offend. Anyway, I thought I would insert an extract here from the preachers sermon to the inhabitants of death row (Among whom is my hero...the fat young man) “You had your chance to be happy, when you first came here, when you first knew you were going to die and you repented of your crime. Do you remember how it felt, on your knees, crying, begging forgiveness, your hearts humbled and glorious, washed clean, buoyant with love for all mankind, your simple souls weighing less than a feather.” He looked up. “But it's a lonely road, and the long nights spent lurking in the shadows of temptation, selling your soul for a nickel and a dime, one sin at a time, until it’s business as usual, Lucifer and Son, two for the price of one, cut-throat competition, grab the money and run, the thing you hate you've become. And you’re always waiting for the payback, because of what you’ve done. “The wages of sin is death. And everyone is working overtime for Father Lucre. Rising at the crack of dawn and going at it 'til late, when the gates of gangsterdom are finally shut and sleep or stupor releases you from your hell on earth and the self-inflicted slavery of a soul reaved of suckle and sustenance, wracked by ambition and insecurity, a bad tempered beast at best, rushing roughshod over the lilies and love songs that are your true nature." He pointed up to paradise. "And not satisfied with the damage done by daylight, at bedtimes you bestow your belligerent bleatings on your blessed friends and family heirs, leaving a lethal legacy of discontent for the next horde of hooting, tooting schemers spinning their snares for the unwary and the not so bright. “You were a baby once; now you’re the big mouth on the block, faster than the speed of sound, running everybody else down, you battle to belittle and out-boast the other big boys with your second hand opinions and your second hand stories and your self-aggrandising pride and preening pomposity as inflated as a balloon and just as thin-skinned until some pin prick comes along and then it’s fartsville." There was a quickly stifled snort from one of the prisoners, and the ancient cleaning lady, who wouldn’t miss one of these sermons for the world, actually farted a small one. "You are going to die. And yet you complain that…” The preacher’s bony jaw clenched slightly, “…there’s not enough salt in the porridge?” He raised his eyes. “It’s not the porridge that wants for salt.” He twisted his lips sourly. “Tasteless people that you are. “Thin and insipid in your souls,” he pinched his fingertips tightly together, “meagre and grubbing in spirit, disgruntled swine slopping at the trough, tusks tossing through the empty husks, heaving with discontent and sensitive to the slightest insult. So the porridge cook told you to lump it, and now he’s a dead man you say? Are you any more alive? You, who are scared to go to sleep without a knife under your pillow, not because the world is dangerous, but because YOU are." At the mention of a knife the fat young man began to squirm uncomfortably, rocking back and forth in his seat and making anxious noises in his throat. The man in the black robe took him in with a glance and held out his hand over the troubled waters. The fat young man lapsed into placid silence again. “You are going to die,” he said quietly, head bowed over the book, hands grasping the pulpit on either side, neck sunk between his shoulder blades like a bird of prey. He turned a desultory eye on them. “Stiff necked and brittle with pride, you can hardly wait to be offended by someone so you can work yourself up into a lather of righteous rage, howling like a mad monkey in a cage that they have to put down because you bit somebody." Last edited by nick styger; 28-06-12 at 12:25. |
28-06-12, 12:47 | #1503 |
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28-06-12, 13:34 | #1504 |
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30-06-12, 15:39 | #1505 |
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Awesome! I remember your --beautiful!-character drawings on deviantart, and I've been eager ever since! I have no doubt it will be amazing, everything you've written up to now I've LOVED!
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30-06-12, 16:10 | #1506 |
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Hehe I hope you won't be disappointed.
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30-06-12, 16:13 | #1507 |
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30-06-12, 17:01 | #1508 |
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Lol, yes, it would be nice It's very kind of you to say so.
I promise, if my books are ever successful, you'll all have signed copies That is, if I stop procrastinating and write the buggers! It dismays me how quickly time goes, and how much 'life' stuff fills every day. I write at least once a day but I still run out of hours |
30-06-12, 17:36 | #1509 |
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It's absolutely fine if good creative work takes time to develop, imo. Some work needs it, while other work (like pulp novels) can be developed quickly.
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30-06-12, 17:44 | #1510 |
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Joined: Jul 2005
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Lol, I've been working on my 'personal' fiction stories for the better part of 17 years. They've got to be into Noble Prize territory by now
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