Book.

[PokeFan 0]

yes, i'm trying to write a book, but i don't know what it should be about.

do you guys have any ideas?

[Chef Nonsense 0]

yes, i'm trying to right a book, but i don't know what it should be about.

do you guys have any ideas?

Im also writing a book.

[Goron Merchant 1]

Me too!!

Hmmm. It helps to have an idea when you start. How long are we talking? I've started a few books, but the ideas just weren't inspirational enough. in fact, here's one:

Her Ink Stained Hands

-Merchant (Raleigh J. B.)

It must have been mid-October. The leaves, if I recall correctly, were dark oranges and reds. The trees were mostly bare, give or take a few patches of fall colors. Besides the calm, barely-audible singing of birds which seemed to echo through the trees, the only noise was my footsteps on the old stone laid pathway.

There was a clearing between the tall tightly-woven trees. That is where I stood. She stumbled through the wood ahead of me. I was not startled, it was as if I had been expecting her. Maybe I had. Her blood-red dress stopped at the knees. It was simple, and filthy, but on her it was nothing short of beautiful. The dress had no sleeves. She was barefoot. It looked like she hadn’t washed in days. None of it mattered, whoever this girl was, she was radiant.

Her dress could hardly be considered crimson. Instead, it looked like a once-white, blood-stained fabric. Coated in dirt, it appeared as a light maroon. Like the dress, she was also covered in dirt. My eyes made way to her petite hands. They hung at her sides, frail, limp, but not relaxed. All the way up to her wrists, they were stained with a deep black ink. It seemed to fit with the girl’s entire atmosphere.

In one graceful and fluid motion, she fell to her knees. Her dress bent fluently with her. I ran to aid her. Whoever this girl was, she was obviously ill. Very ill. Her eyes stared behind me blankly. My hands rested around her waist. I helped her back to her feet. It seemed that the birds had quit their songs. There was complete silence, leaves floated from the sky to the littered ground.

I was drowned in her gorgeous eyes. An abstract yellow branched from the pupil meeting a surrounding light blue. Like a sunflower standing before a beautiful blue sky, her eyes reflected Earth’s grace. Her ink stained hands rubbed against my suit, leaving rough streaks of black. My hands still, now more tightly, wrapped around her waist as she held my arms. Upon a final glance into her face, I noticed that she was disturbingly familiar. This girl was no stranger. .

It continued further, but I ditched the rest. I didn't really like it. This bit was kind of painful to write, actually. Because of the one who was in mind while writing it. Nobody steal this, OK? It took awhile to right, and I may continue later. Just please, let me trust you. I want to trust you guys.

[Eka 387]

Well, it really depends what you're interested in Mr. Pokefan. Fantasy, Action, Horror etc. I personally love Fantasies and history-like books which involve the wars and all that.

I've written some books, but have been too lazy to finish them, so I resorted to Fan fictions, and as Merchant said, it's always good to have an idea first. I get inspired to create stories by T.V or another book I enjoyed. I remember reading a rather exciting fantasy book awhile back, and it instantly inspired me to write a story revolving around that topic, but twisted in my own creative way. Unofrtunately, I have no ideas where I put that story, long gone by now.

[PokeFan 0]

yes, i was thinking

DEATH.

LOTS AND LOTS OF DEATH.

mixed with a little fantasy... i was thinking it to take place in battle torn land, where soldiers raid villiages for food...

i could go on, but i'm wondering what you guys think of this...

[Goron Merchant 1]

Sounds good. Make it violent and horrible. Scary. Nostalgic of Orwell's 1984. If it is to your liking take all happiness away from you characters and leave them bitter and war-torn. Make your book hell.

I'll enjoy reading it!

[Chef Nonsense 0]

Im actually writing 2 series.

the first has 3 books.

the second has 11 books(i think )

Of coarse im working on both at the same time. im writing the shorter one first.

[Goron Merchant 1]

Whow. How long are each book in the series?

[Chef Nonsense 0]

Whow. How long are each book in the series?

Not quite sure yet. im working on the first series for now. its going to be about 8-16(maybe even 20 or more) chapters long.

[PokeFan 0]

Yes, here is the first part of my war-torn book (writing as i think)

Chap. 1 (some of it, any way)

The Void.

I was sitting on the dirt, with my head between my knees. I guess you should know who I am first. My name, is Richard, Richard Markins, age 15. My parents were brutally killed while i was at the age of four, leaving me to help my uncle on a desolate, gloomy, rundown farm. I have 2 sisters, Mary age 17, And Vivian age 14, and 1 brother, Mark age 8. I hardly remember any of it, seeing as i was four, but what i do remember were 2 masked men, reaching for me. I don't really remember the rest.

"Hey Richard, Get over here!" I heard my uncle yell. I decided to try to ignore him, thinking that he was being to harsh on me. I heard him yell again, this time, more brutally, "RICHARD! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!" he said this while running towards me with a whip. I whelped, and started running and screaming...

How do you like it?

[Goron Merchant 1]

Creepy. I like. I have a character named Vivian in one of my books too.

[Chef Nonsense 0]

Yes, here is the first part of my war-torn book (writing as i think)

Chap. 1 (some of it, any way)

The Void.

I was sitting on the dirt, with my head between my knees. I guess you should know who I am first. My name, is Richard, Richard Markins, age 15. My parents were brutally killed while i was at the age of four, leaving me to help my uncle on a desolate, gloomy, rundown farm. I have 2 sisters, Mary age 17, And Vivian age 14, and 1 brother, Mark age 8. I hardly remember any of it, seeing as i was four, but what i do remember were 2 masked men, reaching for me. I don't really remember the rest.

"Hey Richard, Get over here!" I heard my uncle yell. I decided to try to ignore him, thinking that he was being to harsh on me. I heard him yell again, this time, more brutally, "RICHARD! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!" he said this while running towards me with a whip. I whelped, and started running and screaming...

How do you like it?

Pretty good. It's kinda late for me to say anything that may suggest an edit. It's pretty good anyway.

[PokeFan 0]

o.k, i'll start to work on the next part.

hope you'll read it when it's finished!

[Chef Nonsense 0]

o.k, i'll start to work on the next part.

hope you'll read it when it's finished!

will do.

[PokeFan 0]

Here's the next part of the page. hope you like it...

I was sitting on the dirt, with my head between my knees. I guess you should know who I am first. My name is Richard, Richard Markins, age 15. My parents were brutally killed while I was at the age of four, leaving me to help my uncle on a desolate, gloomy, rundown farm. I have 2 sisters, Mary age 17, And Vivian age 14, and 1 brother, Mark age 8. I hardly remember any of it, seeing as I was four, but what I do remember were 2 masked men, reaching for me. I don't really remember the rest.

"Hey Richard, Get over here!" I heard my uncle yell. I decided to try to ignore him, thinking that he was being too harsh on me. I heard him yell again, this time, more brutally, "RICHARD! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!" he said this while running towards me with a whip. I whelped, and started running and screaming. My uncle, eventually caught up, and started cussing at me while whipping me on my back more times than I can count.

When the torture finally stopped, Mark, who heard me screaming, started crying and then my uncle turned his attention towards him and screamed “WHAT ARE YOU CRYING ABOUT, SPINELESS BABY?” Then once he was finished with me, he started whipping Mark. While he was whipping mark a memory occurred to me. I saw my uncle, with the two masked men, killing my parents. “Hurry up, Louis, I don’t want to get caught,” said a masked man. “ok, just grab the children, and we’ll take them to my place, I could use a couple of slaves.” The memory ended there. I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran in the house, and I grabbed the sword my uncle had used to kill my parents. I ran back outside, and I stabbed my uncle in the heart.

“Yo-u Di-d Th-is?” were his final words before he fell down dead. “Oh my, what have I done?” I said as I started sobbing. Vivian and Mary Came over too see what had transpired, seeing their uncle, lying there dead, with me holding the sword. It seemed they both yelled the same thing at me, “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?” even though the evidence was plain. I had just killed our only relative. After that, I fell un-conscience due to me being kicked in the back by one of the sisters.

When I came to, I was in my dank, room. I walked to the end of the room, to see a note. Gone shopping in the village. Will be back sometime tomorrow. Then, started thinking dark thoughts (why should I live in this horrible, dank, forbidding place anymore? I deserve better. Yeah, lets run away. Lets see how far my damn siblings get without me.) So I started packing things I thought I’d need. I found a hunting knife, some fire wood, some dried fruit, some dried vegetables, some clothes for all seasons. I was walking out the door, when I saw that cursed blade. I thought of leaving it, seeing as it was a murder weapon, but decided to take it anyway, “could come in use,” I said, while walking out the door.

hopefully, i can get this published when it's done