No Writing Course

I had no writing this week as the two girls weren't in, which is kind of annoying, but for all you guys I'm going to put up two old stories I had written in the past:

The Armarda,
  "Yar, you sill'a planet lovers, your planet is now under attack by my armarda of space pirates." Roared a voice from the telescreen, Garet just shot the device with a lazer gun and it fell to the floor and smashed into sevral thousand shards of metal. Most of the customers in his bar ignored this sudden moment of chaos in their sea of drunken swearing. Only a young man in a soldier's uniform showed any signs of shock and fear. Garet walked over to the young man while drying a glass flaggin.
"Aren't you afraid of the pirates?" Asked the young man but Garet just shook his head.
"No worry kid, all ships that enter this sector fall out of the sky from our planet's gravitational field and crash" Relpided Garet never looking at the man but at the flaggin. "All that is going to happen is sevral space ships will be wrecked and ten thousand pirates are going to need new jobs. So where are you from kid, your accent says Galnor or Kalpalic?"
" Galnor, a town called Cydnis, I just hope the rescue party comes soon." Continued the Galnorian. Garet merely tutted ans walked away - they were all the same, thinking they'll be saved but just stranded in this, his, bar.

 The City of Diabolo was called the twisted city not because of it's strange and unusual and freikish architechture but because of the complete lack of morals amonst it's ruling class. They would wear costumes and kill people in strange and unique ways as a sport. Shaun remembered Dammed-Chocolate-Man, Funny Dog and Lost Hunter, his old school chums, each with a nickname to hide their identies, like anyone actual could stop them, if anybody even cared. But shaun was only called Calous Shaun because he killed his fellow nobles, for the sport of it.  Seven lives too his name, and seven truly great names. His three old training partners had been killed by public beheading, which had made him famous across the city. The four ironic deaths that followed where mor fun: Forgotten Abaddon (stewed in a soup of corpses for his death by canibilism), Numb Achilles (thrown into an electric power plant for electrcuting his 'patients'), Mellow Eros ( Liver failure from alchol overdose which matched his drugging of young adults) and lastly Cursed Souless ( who was thrown of a skyscrapper simple because Shaun couldn't think of an Ironic way of killing a man who changed his exicution methods). And now he was going to kill Meloncoly Valkerie, but how do you kill someone who uses chrisma to convince people to kill themselves?

 So if you have anyways to kill such a person please send me a comment! I've had the whole week off school as I;ve been training for Meitheal team next year, so wish me luck with that. I also say hello to anyone who is reading this from Meitheal. For those of you not there, I'm sorry it was fun! We played alsorts of Icebreakers and stuff. But I'll tell you this: Pins and straws are not fun things to make statues out of. Also I will now give the worlds first Martin Woodhose fact; if you put a box on a table and Martin Woodhose is in the room his head will appear under the box if you pick it up!
                                         The Meitheal Ninja,
                                                                   Myself

The Return to Monotonism.

Hi'ya y'all and stuff. I have returned to the absolute boredom that is my school life. But today I have written some more peices of Pros in my writing class:
   The first was a story that I had to write in one page of my note book, the second had to use five out of ten words, and the third  was one line was written by each member and then handed over to the next person and continued on such a style.

 Maze:
   The blade slashed through his flesh, cleanly along the muscles grain. Hyko twichted with the pain and then slammed a fist into the monster's belly. The creature stagered back, and Hyko leapedinto the air spinning so his foot smashed into the thing's twisted face. He heard it's bones shatter and it scream as it's brain was ripped into ribbons as the bone fragments danced through like lepers through tar. Hyko cursed as the screams echoed across the labarythn. He was in a dead end and those, those things where after him. He twitched again at the pain of his cut and ran. He didn't know where to run to, or if there was an exist but that didn't stop him. If only he could find a medic or a first aid kit and he would survive.

Words: Jester Pint, Armchair, Tree, Irish, Juju, Crone, Blank, Comprehensible, Solstice. Words used in Italics.

    Old Mrs.Fian sat back into the Armchair as Marcus patroled through the shop, it was dark and only lite by th twilight steaming through the window. Her chair was behin the V-shaped counter, with various charms, gizmos, brochures and random objects of power the hung from ropes that dangled form ancient Irish oak beams of the ceiling. The counter had a slope of glass that protected various grimories and more valuble objects, the walls where  lined with shelves of the least valuble objects.
" Looking for something Marcus" Asked the crone as she chucked down a pint's worth of  water down the sink after cleaning a new charm all the way from Ireland,
"Yes" He replied not stopping to look at her. "I'm looking for something special."
"well" She asked, her tone rising from blank too fury.
"Yes" He remarked finally looking at her, "This"
He put down a photo onto the desk. She snatched it up and grinned at the photo.
"Now, I have that piece." She replied to his action.
" How Much" Bluntly inquired Marcus,
" Depends what this all means to you!" Was her reply to his last question, her grin twisting like a maggot in soft flesh.

    Switch: My lines are underlined, Ellen's are bold and Virginia's are in Italics.
        Nova looked around the room , nothing behind, nothing in his son's room or under the bed, so he switched of the lights. And hid inside his cupboard. Waiting for the dawn to bring him home. He knew that his race where ugly and twisted with scales of orange and eyes of red and talons of death, but the humans beyond the bed where the real monsters. They chartled and gurgled in mouthfuls of tea, sweat tea and milk and honey and blood, and the sun rose in the horizon.

     Oh and a piece of advice, vampires smell of obvious of death and also, surprisingly, vanilla! Long story, but useful advice. Also, I'm  proud to annouce the Osama Bin Laden is dead, and before you say anything, that is a bad thing. His death only makes a martyr, and martyr create more trouble then they solve. Anyway no-one had heard him plan a terrorist plot for at least four years, which is bad. He should have been captured, trialed and then when found guilty and be brought to every talk show and public event in chains, purely to mock Al Qaeda. But the question is this, will Bin Laden's death become an America Holiday, it would probally be the only holiday of annual celebration about a horrific war crime. But lets hope no such maccabre events happen.

       Also was the 25th anniversary of Chernobyl on Tuesday, which was a bummer, espacally for someone who suffered it's effects and I am truly sorrow for you and wish you the best of luck.
                                      Swearsy McSwearsalot,
                                                                      Myself