I was writing a detailed outline of my last movie plot for Serebii.net and everyone loved it. But before I could continue to when we meet Ash and the gang, someone said stuff like "you're plot is full of holes... wtf?... this is stupid!"
He hit me hard, so hard my flame for writing has been snuffed out.
I think it is bothering my writing and my study habits, and I have two tough exams tomorrow. Ever since I heard those crippling words, I have felt empy inside like a part of me is missing.
I need cheering up, and I need it fast.
Please feel free to comment on a peice of writing I made as soon as I heard about the war with Iraq. I have been hearing nothing but good reviews for this so hopefully if it still continues, especially from that one guy, maybe my flame will ignite.
So without further ado, here is The Last of the World Heroes
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The terrain is dark and chilling, the sky is deep and wide, the stars gaze like millions upon millions of little eyes staring at what has arose from the rubble of the newly formed crater.
With his legs dragging on the ground and his arms numb and sore, Old Man slithered out of his capsule that careened mysteriously out of orbit to its sister rock called Moon. Old Man shook his head to swipe the sweat from his eyes as he slid his half living body to a nearby rock standing tall on the slate sand terrain. He propped himself up on the rock and looked out onward: his last resting spot gave the beautiful view of his home world. Alas, this is no serene view as it was many, many years ago. This planet his ancestors saw from here was a beautiful paradise. Now it is a devastated wasteland with nothing but blood red foundations as far as the eyes of space can see. Old Man’s sweat changed to tears as he dropped his head from exhaustion and depression.
So this is how it ends of our world Earth…
How could Old Man be so proud, so hypocritical? Leaving his principles behind to help defend his country. Now, to him, it’s a faded memory he will not forget. The day he literally dropped his cross to voluntarily rip the world apart. At a glance, he now knows that there is no country worth defending: just a world overruled by blinded souls.
Now who feels hypocritical?
So this is how it ends?
This is how we end our Earth, our home, and our lives? Old Man frowned upon earth with great fear that any second now a bright blast from around the globe will tear the rock apart, and for what? He does not know. He never knew. He never knew the day he dropped his cross and he does not know in the last moments of his life.
They on earth do not know either.
Now Old Man has the gaze of sorrow. For those who are left on Earth, never knowing that their depleted minds and mindless hearts are tearing the world apart. If only he did something, if only Old Man could shout out to the world to stop wrong doings. If only Old Man knew, if only they knew.
If only we all knew.
The tears in his eyes are glazing over with scarlet. It is time; it is time for the Old Man. There he sat on the dreary Moon, only a paradise compared to Earth. He gazed up at the stars, the millions upon millions of eyes in the darkness. Now looking down upon him. Old Man closed his eyes, to keep the blood of his fragile life from blinding him. He never wants to be blinded from the realism of truth any more, ever again.
And that’s when Old Man saw them.
The millions upon millions of gazing eyes have now been given face. He recognized each and every one of those faces. The faces he knew from childhood, the faces he knew from television, the faces he knew from war, he recognized them all. They are the faces from his life. Old Man had the unimaginative strength to lie face down on the ground. As he prayed the solemn prayer, he could feel the presence arise from the faces of his life.
Old Man is Home; Old Man is with Him.
The wrong doings of earth should not be condoned. They should be known, taught, and righted. We should learn from our mistakes and the messengers of peace. We should cast out the evils of our minds and homes, not the world for they shall never leave the world. Let Earth know now to leave the problems and duties unto the Lord, drop their guns and pick up their cross again. Let us live in the light of the world, before we die in the light of the bomb. Let us never see the life end for the last of our world heroes.
Copyright 2003 by Bluesy
He hit me hard, so hard my flame for writing has been snuffed out.
I think it is bothering my writing and my study habits, and I have two tough exams tomorrow. Ever since I heard those crippling words, I have felt empy inside like a part of me is missing.
I need cheering up, and I need it fast.
Please feel free to comment on a peice of writing I made as soon as I heard about the war with Iraq. I have been hearing nothing but good reviews for this so hopefully if it still continues, especially from that one guy, maybe my flame will ignite.
So without further ado, here is The Last of the World Heroes
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The terrain is dark and chilling, the sky is deep and wide, the stars gaze like millions upon millions of little eyes staring at what has arose from the rubble of the newly formed crater.
With his legs dragging on the ground and his arms numb and sore, Old Man slithered out of his capsule that careened mysteriously out of orbit to its sister rock called Moon. Old Man shook his head to swipe the sweat from his eyes as he slid his half living body to a nearby rock standing tall on the slate sand terrain. He propped himself up on the rock and looked out onward: his last resting spot gave the beautiful view of his home world. Alas, this is no serene view as it was many, many years ago. This planet his ancestors saw from here was a beautiful paradise. Now it is a devastated wasteland with nothing but blood red foundations as far as the eyes of space can see. Old Man’s sweat changed to tears as he dropped his head from exhaustion and depression.
So this is how it ends of our world Earth…
How could Old Man be so proud, so hypocritical? Leaving his principles behind to help defend his country. Now, to him, it’s a faded memory he will not forget. The day he literally dropped his cross to voluntarily rip the world apart. At a glance, he now knows that there is no country worth defending: just a world overruled by blinded souls.
Now who feels hypocritical?
So this is how it ends?
This is how we end our Earth, our home, and our lives? Old Man frowned upon earth with great fear that any second now a bright blast from around the globe will tear the rock apart, and for what? He does not know. He never knew. He never knew the day he dropped his cross and he does not know in the last moments of his life.
They on earth do not know either.
Now Old Man has the gaze of sorrow. For those who are left on Earth, never knowing that their depleted minds and mindless hearts are tearing the world apart. If only he did something, if only Old Man could shout out to the world to stop wrong doings. If only Old Man knew, if only they knew.
If only we all knew.
The tears in his eyes are glazing over with scarlet. It is time; it is time for the Old Man. There he sat on the dreary Moon, only a paradise compared to Earth. He gazed up at the stars, the millions upon millions of eyes in the darkness. Now looking down upon him. Old Man closed his eyes, to keep the blood of his fragile life from blinding him. He never wants to be blinded from the realism of truth any more, ever again.
And that’s when Old Man saw them.
The millions upon millions of gazing eyes have now been given face. He recognized each and every one of those faces. The faces he knew from childhood, the faces he knew from television, the faces he knew from war, he recognized them all. They are the faces from his life. Old Man had the unimaginative strength to lie face down on the ground. As he prayed the solemn prayer, he could feel the presence arise from the faces of his life.
Old Man is Home; Old Man is with Him.
The wrong doings of earth should not be condoned. They should be known, taught, and righted. We should learn from our mistakes and the messengers of peace. We should cast out the evils of our minds and homes, not the world for they shall never leave the world. Let Earth know now to leave the problems and duties unto the Lord, drop their guns and pick up their cross again. Let us live in the light of the world, before we die in the light of the bomb. Let us never see the life end for the last of our world heroes.
Copyright 2003 by Bluesy
