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prophetik music

looking for artists and writers for a collaborative effort (non-ocr)

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the problem is... on ocremix.org's main page, all you see is "looking for writers of short stories..."

Prophet of mephisto: you might want to change the title of this thread to read "looking for artists for a collaborative effort (non-ocr)" or something of the like.

done and done. lots of great stuff here, guys! i'm going to likely compile all of these into short synopses in the first post so artists can just jump right in.

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sorry for the dp.

i compiled all the stories i've recieved - both through here and linked offsite - in the first post. writers, it's your responsibility to find artists, now! and to contact me about music. i've heard from soulinether, jam stunna, and a few others.

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I have no idea what dystopic means but I wrote a story once that I would have loved to see animated (or with still images) somehow with some nice music in the background.

I know you guys have a lot of writers already. I'm also an "artist" altough I'm not on any kind of pro level or anything (except for the fact that I am a professional graphics-/web designer 0_0; ).

This is the story I'm talking about: http://rayfalling.deviantart.com/art/The-Journey-So-Far-22429909

For my "art" see my deviantArt account here: http://rayfalling.deviantart.com/gallery/#_browse/digitalart (its set on browsing digital art, but I do other stuff as well).

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sorry for the dp.

i compiled all the stories i've recieved - both through here and linked offsite - in the first post. writers, it's your responsibility to find artists, now! and to contact me about music. i've heard from soulinether, jam stunna, and a few others.

Link to my blog, any story there is up for grabs for this project.

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Since my idea isn't going to be used, I might as well post it for fun.

WRITINGS

Not bad for 20 minutes of work.

Me likey. This is the kind of weirdness I'd want to try illustrating.

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i compiled all the stories i've recieved - both through here and linked offsite - in the first post. writers, it's your responsibility to find artists, now! and to contact me about music. i've heard from soulinether, jam stunna, and a few others.

The major philosophy behind my story was to take something silly/inane (in this case, lawn flamingos), treat it seriously, and let the juxtaposition of the two be humorous.

so... um, yeah.

Any interested illustrators/artists, pm me. :<

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a drawing for my short story is fairly simple. I described the suns, potentially a darkness of barracks, and lots of marijuana. And the dissolving of a man.?

Or you could just throw together a bunch of colors and call it a day. Really. it's your choice.

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I'll think about drawing or music. I can write as well, but since you need more of everyone else, I'll decline on that end. If there are deadlines and I don't meet them or have anything to show, I'm not in it.

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A Particular Request

“A small tree? How small do you mean? 6 feet or 8 feet tall?”

“No, something more like 2 feet, maybe less.”

“That’s pretty funny mister. I’m sorry but the shortest thing I’ve got is 6 feet tall. Why you want anything shorter anyways?”

“Do you have maybe a large branch then? Anything at all will do. It just needs to be able to stand up.”

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of stunt you’re pulling here, but you’re starting to bug me. Either buy a tree at the size we offer or get out of here.”

It had been like that at every place he’d been. No one could believe that he wanted only a small tree. They acted in a very predictable manner, first curious, then amused, and finally angry. He would then leave and walk to the next place he could find. He had even thought about just stealing a branch from the back, but their placement on the corners of streets made it tough to get in without being seen.

The cold snow falling did little to cheer him as he trudged to the last tree vendor he dared venture to. He was getting uncomfortably far from home and it was starting to get dark. The sign, gaudily painted in large red letters on the side of what may well have been a shack wall at some previous point, proclaimed it “Robby’s Christmas Tree Emporium.” He could think of at least 50 different ways to make it more approachable, but figured there really wasn’t much use in sharing that revelation. Come three days from now, there would be nothing left in the lot to show they were there save some pine needles and the indents where the trailer had been parked.

Nothing seemed any different about this place, even the canned holiday tunes were the same. He wondered if anyone ever got tired of listening to Bing Crosby and the rest of the long dead musicians the cropped up every year like a troupe of ghostly carolers. At least he’d gotten the fairly average name of Frankie. Who in the world would elect to keep a first name like Bing anyway?

“Help you sir?” Asked a man in green flannel, presumably the titular owner of the place.

The question seemed to come from someplace far away, but Frankie responded to it anyways with the same introduction that he had given in at least twenty places prior.

“My name is Frankie, and I’m looking for something particular. I need a small tree, something that can fit in my place. I’m afraid it’s rather cramped and if it’s too big, it simply won’t fit.”

He braced himself for the inevitable, but was surprised instead to hear Robby say that he had just what the man was looking for. Caught off guard, Frankie could only stutter out a surprised “What?”

“I said, I think I might have just the thing. You’re looking for a small tree right. I assume by that you mean you’d like something a bit tinier than six feet, which is the standard. Come on over here, let me show you what I’ve got.”

Off in a corner, obscured by the barrels that customers usually fed their trees through to cover them in netting, were several small trees lovingly placed in pots. They ranged from miniscule pines that would fit in a car window, to the two foot tree Frankie had been dreaming of. A quick haggling over prices and a purchase of twenty dollars later, and Frankie was carrying his tree back the way he’d come. An hour and a half later, he climbed the steps of his trailer, brushing needles from his jacket and hair, and placed the tree inside. Behind him, and man politely cleared his throat.

“Excuse me sir, but I have a rather particular request. Do you have another tree of that size?”

Frankie put on his most friendly expression, and told the man about the tree lot on Hearst and Farthing. The man thanked him and hurried back to his car to get out of the chilly night. Frankie walked to the back of the trailer and shut off the lights for the large sign above “Frankie’s Tree Extravaganza,” before walking back into the trailer and shutting the door.

This is the first short story I came up with. Hope you guys like it.

Edit: As I said before, I really liked RD's idea of writing at least one short story a week. And yes, I even copied the blog location. Not out of unoriginality, but rather because I used to use that site and really like the minimalist layout. Nothing other than the story and it's comments. The link is here: http://darklink42.blogspot.com More to come as I clean out some of my old folders.

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I'll think about drawing or music. I can write as well, but since you need more of everyone else, I'll decline on that end. If there are deadlines and I don't meet them or have anything to show, I'm not in it.

yo salluz. got something for jam stunna's writing? or soulinether's? or rd's?

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Cheers, musicians/artists. My first piece of creative writing in... I don't know how long.

A hand breaks through the snow. Cold, it thinks. The snowfall is so deep it has buried the secrets of the lands beneath. The hand is soon followed by a being, not yet conscious, struggling to awaken. Finds his feet - good so far. But his posture is ruined by years of disuse, and he falls again, forward this time. Eating snow. Pathetic.

He hoists himself up, brushes himself off. What is he wearing? Some sort of guard armor? Lightweight blue metal covers his upper body; his pant legs are black, lighter because of the snow. In a hoister on his belt, sheathed...

"A blade...?"

Pull, draw, aim. It's a short blade, but it reflects the light from the snow, nearly blinding him. He hastens to sheath it again.

Feet unsteady, still. A forest surrounds him, the trees covered in the sky's dandruff. He sees, nearby, an evergreen whose trunk has been manipulated, carved. He goes to it.

"You are here."

Where am I? And for the first time, he is aware. Alert. But there is no danger here. Beneath the tree's sign, an arrow. Pointing... that way, to a path leading away from his clearing. "Carry me." And his feet obey.

Every step an eternity, every mile a death wish, he wanders the forest, blindly but with instinct now burning timber and oil inside him. No purpose but to search.

Finally, another clearing appears. Empty, but with a tree stump in the middle. A great Being once stood here, but madness and war have thrown it away. Stump is covered in snow...

"What is that?"

Barely, he makes out the corner of a... journal? Pulls it from beneath the white, dusts it off, open. A note falls out, into his open palm.

"You are... alone. Nowhere."

The journal is his. He begins to read, and begins to wish he had never been stirred by the falling of the snow.

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I whipped this up in 2 hours yesterday morning, just some basic background music for November 22, nothing too special. If it's not up to standards just let me know, give it to me straight doc, I can take it.

November 22 : http://www.mediafire.com/?nnjdljtgzzz

Doesn't really fit that story specifically, but it's reminiscent so I figure it kinda fits anyways.

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I whipped this up in 2 hours yesterday morning, just some basic background music for November 22, nothing too special. If it's not up to standards just let me know, give it to me straight doc, I can take it.

November 22 : http://www.mediafire.com/?nnjdljtgzzz

Doesn't really fit that story specifically, but it's reminiscent so I figure it kinda fits anyways.

I thought it conveyed some of the emotions in the story. Only gripe was that I wish it faded out better.. like sustain the last note on the piano and perhaps go w/a longer last note for the flute.

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I whipped this up in 2 hours yesterday morning, just some basic background music for November 22, nothing too special. If it's not up to standards just let me know, give it to me straight doc, I can take it.

November 22 : http://www.mediafire.com/?nnjdljtgzzz

Doesn't really fit that story specifically, but it's reminiscent so I figure it kinda fits anyways.

Gotta say, I am digging this, it seems to have been made for that story, I love it.

(Shameless bump also)

(And plug too, there should be a new story on my blog later today, this will be the fifth one that wasn't posted in this thread... There is also the first part of an introduction to a possible novel. Enjoy. Even Titans...)

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