The Fallen Star - Ace Hardlight's StoryThe Fallen Star - Ace Hardlight's Story3 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
The Fallen Star is a story based on the life of Ace Hardlight.
Somebody who is more well known to be a ruthless gladiator, a man with an unknown
heroic past and an uncertain future.
What happened after Ace was adopted from an orphanage, raised to become one of the greatest superheroes of the past. And what caused him to turn into a selfish and sadistic gladiator, the champion of DreadZone... several years later? Who were the Sonic 6; the group of heroes who adopted him? And what really happened to Ace after Ratchet defeated
him later on at DreadZone?
The Fallen Star will take you through his life as you uncover his successful past, up until his life was torn apart by a tragic accident. And why he chose to become a killer, rather than to resist the grasp of Gleeman Vox and his gladiator show. Watch how Ratchet reminds him of what he once was; defeating him and freeing him from Vox's grasp. An action which allowed Ace to begin his pathway to redem
The Unsinkable Brain CH. 1The year was 1912 and two mice stood on the docks of Southhampton, England in anticipation of boarding the massive RMS Titantic. One mouse, the shorter of the two, lowered his binoculars and gave a small smile, his pink eyes betraying the glee he felt. His plan was perfect! They would commandeer the mighty ship, this aptly name titan of the seas, and use it to further his goal of taking over the world!The Unsinkable Brain CH. 13 years ago in Romance More Like This
"There it is, Pinky. The mighty Titanic. They key to my plan for world conquest!"
Pinky dug a finger into his ear, gazing in awe at the Olympic-class ocean liner. 882 feet long, 175 feet tall, and 46,328 tons - it was the biggest ship of its kind and it was leaving that very day for New York. "Naaaarf! It must be a really big lock, Brain!"
Brain only twitched, in too good a mood to let his associate's ridiculous behavior bother him overmuch. "Indeed. Now we need only secure passage before the vessel sets sail. Come, Pinky." He leapt off the coil of rope they'd been s
Secret"Colin, your mother and I have noticed that you've been sneaking out of the house at night recently."Secret3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He knew that this would come sometime. He always had to leave the window slitted slightly so as to facilitate reentry, and the consequent alteration in the temperature of his bedroom could be felt. He had been dozing off in several classes over the past few weeks after sleepless nights, his parents nearly giving up trying to rouse him earlier than the fifteen minutes he'd need to freshen up. Yawning, he'd wrap himself in his bathrobe, occluding the sight of any residual mud but if they had taken any glance under his covers (he tried to avoid this by making his bed properly every day and thus allay suspicions), they would have seen streaks of humus brown where his feet would kick back and forth. He didn't know what he would say to them. Did they know what he was doing? Had they surreptitiously spied on him one night?
"We're somewhat concerned," said his mother, and their eyes met
Story of Whippet and Ebonclaw Alex was just getting up, leaned back and yawned. He had had a late night, everyone had celebrated his birthday the previous night, so he had eaten a lot and been awake for a long time really. He got dressed and washes his face and such things he did of the morning. *Ding-Dong* Rang Alex's doorbell, as he wondered who it could be at this early. But before answering the door the clock read as 2:43 pm in the afternoon so it wasn't actually all that early. He opened the door and saw his good friend Brennan; he was holding something, but Alex couldn't make it out, actually Brennan was holding two packages... 'Hi' He saysStory of Whippet and Ebonclaw8 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
'Oh hey Bren, um...care to come it?'
'Thank you, that'd be great.' *Brennan walks in swiftly with the two wrapped packages, and sits them tenderly on the table.* 'Well, see I couldn't make it to your party last night, so here're these to make amens : D'
Karen and the Unexpected Transformation"Where is he?"Karen and the Unexpected Transformation3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"This is ridiculous."
"Excuse me. Ma'am?"
"You'll have to come closer. I can't hear you."
"That's better. What can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if you'd seen a friend of mine."
"What's he look like?"
"Well, he's not a friend exactly. He's sort of the narrator."
"That still doesn't tell me what he looks like."
"Have you seen anyone around here tonight?"
"Oh! There was this one fellow. He was waiting over there by those columns, when all of a sudden, he turned into a werewolf and ran off."
"How could you tell he was waiting?"
"He kept looking around aimlessly, and he was holding a pen and paper but not writing anything."
"Great, that must have been him."
"Well, if it was, I assure you he was in no condition to be narrating anything."
"Now what am I supposed to do?"
"What are you asking me for?"
"All I know is, there's supposed to be an unexpected transformation tonight, and he's supposed to take notes."
"I told you he turned into a werewolf. Are y
DefectiveDefective3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Chad stood in his driveway, admiring his handiwork. The vintage Mustang gleamed like some giant emerald. There was still wax to wipe off, but not on the paint.
Chad hardly could have asked for a better Saturday. Summer was over, but warm weather had returned for one last gasp. After two weeks of sweaters and corduroys, he circled the car in a polo shirt and shorts, not a care in the world.
As one awakened from the best dream ever, Chad was slow to source the sound. Mosquitoes? Surely not, though there might be some at sunset. Birds? No, way too ugly, unless pterodactyls were back from the dead. And besides, those technically were lizards anyway.
There it was again. Tornado siren? Fat chance, without a cloud in the sky. Maybe an ambulance, or a fire engine off in the distance
Chad could feel it in his teeth, and his nails to a lesser extent: the change was upon him. Instinctively, he backed away from the car, so as not to scratch it. We all have
TonicRoy could barely believe his luck. He and Matheson got along all right, but Matheson was strictly business. No sense of humor. No sense of adventure.Tonic4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
But Matheson had sent him the most incredible voice mail. Apparently, Matheson had tried a new energy drink, mutated from it, and called Roy to tell him about it. So out of character, and yet, all Roy cared about was seeing for himself.
If not for energy drinks, Roy could hardly do his job. He didn't drink tea, coffee, or even cola. Every morning, however, he threw back one or two energy drinks and coasted on that until lunch. But for all the "monster" and "power" imagery, he never had noticed much more than caffeine. Matheson wasn't one to exaggerate, though.
Roy approached the vending machine like a child on Christmas morning. Right away, he noticed the new can in the third row. It was sky blue, slender, nothing out of the ordinary. With sweaty palms, Roy sifted through his pockets and produced exact change. He pressed each coin hard th
Tough CrowdJenny led the way to the clearing. "This is going to be the best campout ever!" she promised.Tough Crowd4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"I'll believe that when I see it," someone pouted.
"Oh, cheer up," Jenny prodded. "I have a surprise for everyone!"
"I hope it's a way out of here," someone else complained.
"Where do you find these people?" Jay asked Jenny.
"They're friends from online," Jenny answered through clenched teeth.
"They make me want to get rid of my computer," Jay grunted, and Jenny laughed out loud.
"That'll be the day! Then how would we keep up?" she demanded.
"Carrier pigeon," Jay said with a smirk.
Right then, the group arrived at the clearing. Jenny instructed everyone to set up camp, and Jay started by opening a big bag of charcoal briquettes. Jenny advised everyone else to help him, but in the end, only she did. As she carefully poured lighter fluid, Jay resumed conversation.
"Couldn't we have come out here alone?" he wondered.
"Yeah, but we could come out here alone any time," she reasoned.
Jay shivered. I
Wannabe WerewolvesThe walls of sound hit my chest like a second heartbeat. The crowd pushed against the stage as a song erupted out into the bar. I hung off to the side as the band crashed into their big finale. The lead singer planted himself in front of his microphone screaming. To the side, I saw my friend Aidan's mouth moving excitedly, saying something about ears. Leaning in, I shouted "What?!" my throat hoarse from the effort.Wannabe Werewolves2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Confused that I misheard him, he gestured to the other side of the stage. Squinting, I saw little in the dark swarm of people hopping along to the chorus. Just then, I saw what my friend was aiming toward: someone looking vaguely bored, hands in his pockets, back against the wall. I looked back at Aidan unimpressed, and he tried to talk over the music again. Giving up in frustration, he grabbed his ears, yanked them up to a point, let them go, and pointed again at the stranger.
Looking again, I was stunned to find that the guy's ears tapered off to a point just below the cro
Diddy's Kong Quest, Chapter 1Diddy's Kong Quest, Chapter 14 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Chapter One: Apenapped
Donkey Kong relaxed in his beach chair now that everyone had finally buzzed off. A few weeks ago he and Diddy had recaptured the banana hoard from King K. Rool's clutches, and ever since they returned everyone on DK isle had wanted to talk to him. The worst of them was his grandfather Cranky, who was continuously bragging to DK about "his days", and how hard and dangerous hís adventures had been compared to DK's. Funky had decided DK was a "totally gnarly dude" and wanted to surf with him all day long. Swanky had tried to con DK into participating into one of his rigged games a lot. Of course DK loved the extra attention, especially from Candy, but enough was enough and now he wanted some time of his own.
Fortunately, Diddy had stopped following him around wherever he went. Perhaps he was angry with DK, as Donkey had claimed to everyone Diddy had been knocked out during the first minute of their fight with King K. Rool, and that DK had finished the crocodile
Moving OnDale's friends were worried about him. He was never around much any more, and he never had much to say when he was. He'd just ask if he'd told them about his new job, and then not tell them anything except he had a new job.Moving On4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
This wasn't in itself a bad thing. Dale and his friends spent their free time online, often pretending they were werewolves. They weren't lustful or violent. They just didn't have a lot to show for it after the fact, same as with video games.
Thing was, it was their only time together, or used to be. Once Dale got the new job, he started training and stopped… everything else. He stepped down as administrator from his own web site. Then he even stepped down as moderator. He chatted less with his friends, except to ask if he'd told them about his new job.
Dale's friends were glad he had a job, but his job sounded dull as the dickens. It was something to do with research, but also something to do with security. It was way out in the desert, which meant it not onl
Story: Without a Trace: Pt 2Story: Without a Trace: Pt 25 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Without a Trace Part 2
By Bob Stein
A brightly green Chevrolet roadster was the current victim. After scanning the vandals unsuccessfully for Andre, he found a crate and settled on it. The car was a long way from home it had bright red Indiana 36 plates. Stolen, no doubt. That would explain how Hawke could offer so many vehicles up for destruction. It even made sense in a crazy kind of way. Unique, disposable entertainment picked up for free off city streets.
Jack got some curious looks from both kids and the hooded employees, but no one bothered him. That was actually surprising, considering he was the only visible adult. In fact, given the grocery list of illegal activities going on around him, Jack was amazed he hadn't been dragged off by some of the goons. Bootleg whiskey, liquor provided to minors, car theft come to think of it, the paintings and fine
TG Curse 1Chapter 1: Friday the ThirteenthTG Curse 110 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
It is said that a man's life flashes before his eyes just before he dies. The same is true of a bride just before her wedding. Samantha was learning this, sitting in her private suite wearing that breathtakingly white gown. One by one, each of the events leading up to this moment were flashing before her large, hazel eyes.
Her crying subsided as the memory passed of her first girlfriend dumping her that fateful Friday. Back then she was a fifteen year old boy named Sean. She hadn't been called by that name in so long, it felt like a faint whisper from a distant past. As terrible as that Friday was, it would have been nothing had it not been for the previous Friday- Friday the Thirteenth. She shook her head and clenched her fists. If only I had refused. None of this would have ever happened. It was all Simon's fault. She took a shaky breath and sighed softly. A smile flitted across
Once Again - Suicide PoemDoes suicide solve anything?Once Again - Suicide Poem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Does running away help?
Well let ask you you a question,
Do you heal a wound with fire?
Suicide takes away pain
You say so sadly
But it takes away the happiness
From you and all the others
Why, why, why
Echos in your head
Voices you try to silence
But they just move instead
You'll run away, and then what
Do you know the world at all?
Is this the place that you grew up in
No, not at all
If you have a scrap what do you do
Do you pour more pain on yourself
What do you think your parents would say
And your friends as well
Never say you don't have
Friends who are there
They're always just around the corner
Stay alive to find them
Why, why, why
Echos in your head
You scream for imaginary people
But you should reach out to real ones instead
Being alive may be hard
But hard is what makes you happy
It was through hard times you were born
And everyone else before you
Ask your mom and dad
Or anyone older in age
They can lead in the right direction
It does exist, just
Coyote EnvyJeremy Driggers didn't just love coyotes. He envied them. He wanted to be one, and gradually grew less and less guarded about it. He drew coyotes in his notebooks in class. He watched Warner Bros. cartoons and rooted against The Road Runner. He wrote letters to the editor defending coyotes going through garbage cans in suburbia.Coyote Envy5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Jeremy wasn't very outgoing in or out of class, so no one paid much mind to him or his coyotes. He wore coyote T-shirts to class and even put a tail hole through a pair of pants, but no one asked him about it. At night, rather than socialize, he would lie outside and stare at the sky, obsessing about being a coyote.
This continued from high school into college. Jeremy signed up for several clubs where he hoped to meet like-minded individuals, but they never came at it from the same angle. They cared about camping and hunting, or endangered species, or Native American culture. No one else expressed interest in becoming a coyote, so he wasn't about to volunteer i
CourtshipGretchen was on page 76 of The Prisoner of Zenda when Terry introduced himself.Courtship4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Hey, pretty lady," he slurred.
Gretchen looked up to see a man in a tatty grey suit.
"Are you lonely?" he inquired.
Gretchen choked because she could taste the bourbon on his breath. She cleared her throat, then said, "No, thank you."
"I'm lonely," Terry informed her, and just stood there.
"I'm sorry," Gretchen sputtered, trying to focus on a gazebo in the distance instead of Terry slouched over her.
"I'll love and protect you!" Terry offered.
"I beg your pardon?" Gretchen asked out loud without meaning to.
"I'll love and protect you, pretty lady," Terry reaffirmed.
"Protect me from what?"
"Oh, I don't believe in monsters," Gretchen scoffed. Now she was more annoyed than scared.
"Not even lawyers?" Terry asked.
Gretchen went back to reading The Prisoner of Zenda.
"I got a St. Christopher's Medal," Terry boasted. Like Terry, it had seen better days. Terry threw out his hand to show
Fuzzy MemoryThe television blinked off at the touch of a button. It was about 8pm; the sun had set, and Joe Kavanaugh began to ready himself for sleep. Rising from the living room couch and cinching his bathrobe, he carefully worked his feet into his slippers and shambled over to the kitchen. The last of the night’s dishes languished in the sink, soaking; he would address their appeals in the morning. After all, it wasn’t as if he had anywhere to go. Having retired several years ago, he was free from the workaday blitzing about. Besides, he no longer trusted his reflexes with the operation of a vehicle. At least, not the new-fangled ones they all had these days. And he could never get used to self-driving vehicles. Didn’t trust them.Fuzzy Memory2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
After straining to grasp and pull the knob on the cupboard, he was disappointed to find his vitamins were missing. A moment of consternation passed before he recalled that the week before he had decided it was too much effort to reach for the vitamin
Fang of Stone Paul Pack, average college sophomore, soon to be a bit beyond average. The bell had rang and he just got through with Mrs. Smith's first period English class. Prodding through the halls after the bell he scurmaged into his messy locker for something much of paper and books. Down the hall, around the corner, through the library, and out Paul came to the opposing wing of the school building, where at the foot of the stairwell lie his next class. Forward Paul went down the steps in a kind of orderly fashion, but no need to stop by the classroom just yet... For lie around the next couple of corners was his favored milk machine. Heading the general direction of it and exchanging a few words with acquaintances he took out his wallet and slid the dollar into the machine, with some taps and a pop out came a Chocolate milk bottle. Now he could focus, more so than without one. ReFang of Stone7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Closed SessionFlorida! Why did it have to be Florida?Closed Session2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Joe hated Florida. Tourist traps and old people too stupid to read a ballot. As a result, eight years of George W. Bush, although it did lead to some pretty good music.
Joe had wanted to go to North Carolina. He had heard wonders about Charlotte barbecue and Research Triangle Park, but North Carolina was the worst state for unions. Hardly anybody was attending the convention over it. So, Florida it was.
Maybe he could get a big juicy story no one else could. Catch delegates drunk or doing drugs, really hard drugs. With hookers. That would be the ticket, and he could move up to some bigger, better paper.
He called out to a cabbie. "Hola! Donde es el convention center?"
"Get in," instructed the driver.
"Yo soy journalista," Joe gushed. "Te gusta los taxis?"
"Oh. All right."
The car left the airport.
"You know today's cancelled, right?"
"Mmm, heard something about that. Maybe I can still catch them saying something shocking, thoug
IntroductionSometimes what you want for Christmas won't make you happy.Introduction4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Roy! So good to see you!" I beckoned my old friend inside and hung up his coat. "How are you?"
"All right," he replied, "but I still can't grow my own coat."
I laughed at the inside joke. Roy and I had more than one common interest, but our obsession was movie monsters. We pored over pre-code comics, and he envied the werewolves even though they always died horrible deaths.
"I see college hasn't changed you," I said with a smile.
"Unfortunately not," Roy sighed. "You know what? I don't want to be a werewolf. I just want to see one. To see one and meet one, and then I'd be happy."
"Really?" I asked, skeptical.
"Really," Roy answered. "I just want to know it's for real, and move on. It doesn't have to be me, or bite me, to satisfy my curiosity."
I paused. I had a surprise for Roy, but it wasn't ready. On the other hand, Roy wouldn't be home again until Easter. I paused longer than intended.
"What?" Roy snapped. "Spill it."
Pool PartyTom was giddy. Here was his chance to prove himself capable to his friends! As a new homeowner, he had not only a place to host parties, but also an above ground pool and deck. Rather than be late to everything, he could take credit for organizing everything. His best friends, Jack and Stephen, were somewhat skeptical.Pool Party4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"You haven't even unpacked, and already you want to host a party?" Stephen scoffed.
"You've heard of a housewarming party!" Tom insisted.
"Tom," Jack interjected, "you don't throw those for yourself. That's telling people to get you gifts."
"Fine," Tom said. "We'll call it a cookout, backyard barbecue, whatever. Pool party."
"Do you even know how to operate a pool?" quizzed Stephen.
"How hard can it be?" laughed Tom. "Fill it up with water, and all the pool stuff's in the garage."
"Give him a break," Jack told Stephen. "He's got a point. How hard can it be?"
Stephen avoided eye contact but relented.
Saturday, Tom was almost ready. He had ribs to barbecue, napkins, the go
Be a producer 101Be a producer 1015 years ago in Letters More Like This
A lot of writers approach me (for reasons I do not know) and told me about how hard it is for them to get someone to teamwork with them on a comic project.
Writers, project start ups, please understand that once you want to involve someone into your project, you are no longer just a writer. You have switched role to being a "producer" of your project.
As little as the project maybe, you are the producer.
Therefore, as a producer, you need to do what a producer do!
Job 1: provide, and find ways to provide the team financially (I do it by fund rising, other producers/writers do so by getting a part time job, or talk investors into giving some investments. Yes, if you want it badly enough, you WILL do it. If you love your project, you will sacrifice to make it come to life.
If you are not ready to be involved financially, you need to get yourself involved as a friend. As a real friend to that artist you want to work with....Or become that "writer" the art
Dinner GuestDinner Guest2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
George brightened at the knock at the door. It was "Shave and a Haircut," the same knock he always gave. He still looked through the peephole but knew all along who it was.
"Trevor!" he exclaimed once the door was unchained.
Green eyes glinted in the dark, and strong arms balanced a bouquet of daffodils and a plate wrapped in plastic.
"I'd hug you, but then you'd be wearing these," Trevor explained. He entered and set everything down on the dining room table. "OK, now," he suggested, arms outstretched.
George embraced his son, but with lips pursed. Trevor took care not to hurt him.
"You know," George said, "it's a shame to wear such a nice suit with all that scruff on your face."
"It's fur, Dad," Trevor retorted.
The kitchen door opened, and a tall, thin woman of about forty approached with a bowl of potato salad.
"Tessie!" Trevor yelped, and ran across the room to nuzzle her before she could put the bowl down. She giggled, sounding significantly younger.
"Help with anything?" Trevor i
Never Too OldNever Too Old2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"That was the lamest one yet!" Glenn snickered.
"It was pretty bad," Kevin admitted, "but not as bad as Strawberry Shortcake."
"Thanks for reminding me. Yeah, that was even worse."
"Good candy, though."
"Mmm," Glenn assented through a mouthful of Skittles.
The zombie and the pirate approached the little blue house and followed an arrow to the back door.
"Betcha this one sucks," Glenn said as he pressed the doorbell. Suddenly, the door flew open to reveal a short flight of stairs.
"Trick or treat?" Kevin asked hopefully.
A meaty paw reached around the door, and Glenn did a spit-take. A diminutive werewolf emerged from the house and howled for dramatic effect.
"What are you supposed to be, Curious George?" Glenn scoffed.
The werewolf howled again and held out a plastic pumpkin brimming with sweets. Kevin carefully selected a Butterfinger, whereas Glenn grabbed whatever would fit in his sticky gray hand.
"Thanks," Kevin mumbled.
The werewolf barked, and two rivulets of drool fell onto the