Mykul

With the addition of Mr. Bravo (welcome, sir) that makes nine. Obviously we need an even number, so let's hold out for a few more. We should be starting very soon.

Thanks, Morph. Seems a shame that you wanna sit this one out, but we shall endure. As long as more people sign up, that is. I was hoping that some of the anthology heavyweights would step up. Raiha? I think she totally belongs here...

No physical descriptions needed for the sign-up, Blonde? [B]Name:[/B] Scott Finch [B]Age:[/B] At the beginning of the mission, 28 [B]Position:[/B] Mission Specialist 3 [FONT="System"] MS3 LOG ELPIS II DAY 287 The same old feeling of uselessness is creeping over me. When I was chosen for this mission, I was filled with pride. Hell, I've always been filled with pride. I was selected to be the medical officer on the Elpis II because I was the brightest doctor on the Hubris, I know this. And at first the entire crew knew it. But now it's been almost a year aboard this vessel, and the only real work I have done has been the setting of a broken bone [index finger] and two different sets of stitches. To some of the crew, I'm beginning to be a nuisance. They don't say it, but I can tell. I am a doctor, after all. This ship could not function without every last one of them working diligently at their posts. Me, I seem to have no purpose at all, besides reminding everyone of their mandatory vitamin regimen and exercise time. Anywhere else in the universe, the fact that a doctor had no patients to tend to would be a blessing, it would be something to celebrate. On board the Elpis II, however, it fills me with a sort of shame. I know I should be glad that the crew is in such good health and doesn't need my attention, but I find myself yearning to be needed. I want to be as important as I was on the Hubris. Psychoanalysis continues to yield stable results. Some crew members seem frustrated to be taken off of their tasks to answer my questions. I don't blame them. I simply wish they would empathize with my dilemma. I would also like to log, for the record, that psychoanalysis once every two weeks seems to be a bit much. In old Earth psychiatry books, there are articles explaining how humans deteriorate mentally when confined to close quarters with no sunlight. Can you imagine? What luxury the Earthlings had! Seeing as how there is more room here on the Elpis II than on the Hubris, the crew could not be happier in their current predicament. There is one thought in my mind that still worries me: during analysis, nobody seems to realize- or at least be afraid of- the overwhelming probability that we will all die on this mission, suffering the same fate as the Elpis I.[/FONT]

I think it sounds great. It's like what would happen at the end of Sunshine, if the mission to reignite the sun had failed. Oh, and the fact that the last sanctuary of mankind is called the Hubris...fantastic. Count me in.

[CENTER]Well hello there, and welcome to the [SIZE="4"][COLOR="Red"][FONT="Franklin Gothic Medium"]OTAKU PROSE CONTEST[/FONT][/COLOR][/SIZE][/CENTER] There have been poetry contests, but the anthology has been host to precious few [I]prose[/I] contests (as far as I know, at least). This, in my opinion, is a travesty. There are so many gifted storytellers wandering the cyberstreets of Otaku, it seems a crime not to showcase their talent. But enough of my prattle, let's talk about how this thing is going to happen. [B][U]RULES/FORMAT:[/U][/B] - The contest will be set up with a simple tournament bracket. - Each round will consist of pairs of contestants, facing off in order to advance. - The challenges set before the contestants will vary from round to round, [I]and[/I] from face-off to face-off. Every challenge will be special and specific. - Voting will be open to the Otaku public. Whoever receives the most votes wins, thereby advancing to the next round. - Ties will be settled by a tie-breaker challenge. - Contestants may not vote on their own matches. [B][U]THE CHALLENGES...[/U][/B] will be short and sweet. This is a prose contest, not a novel-writing contest. So worry not, nobody is going to make you write a 2,000 word essay. The challenges will be short, while still leaving infinite room for creativity. [U][B]TO SIGN UP...[/B][/U] simply post in this thread and express an interest! Once enough people have signed up, I'll post the tournament bracket, and off we'll go. Any questions? PM me.

[COLOR="DimGray"]Not that I knew what the old hair looked like, Princess, but the new color looks great![/COLOR] [IMG]http://i41.tinypic.com/w1zlag.jpg[/IMG]

Ha! Thanks, Drizzt, but I'm choosing not to continue this particular piece simply because I didn't write it with continuity in mind. We don't need an add-on to this just like we don't need the release of Titanic 2. I'm excited to write more short pieces for this anthology, and hopefully you're half as excited to read them. Lord knows I need support from people like you, friend.

[COLOR="DimGray"]I believe I have my solution. I want to make this a thread for other, unrelated short stories that share the same melancholia as this piece. All I need to do is change the name of the thread, and I'll be good to go. I've already PMed Allamorph...and I assume that he is the correct person to ask about such things.[/COLOR]

[COLOR="DimGray"]Thank you both for the kind words! There's only one problem: I wrote this without any thought of continuity. Hm...[/COLOR]

[COLOR=Black][SIZE="4"][CENTER][FONT="Arial Black"]These are my bedtime stories.[/FONT][/CENTER][/SIZE] [/COLOR] [COLOR=Gray][center][U]The Man and His Boy[/U][/center] He held in his hands the perfection of innocence. He cradled in his arms every piece of himself that was good and pure. This was his one treasure; his true love. The man stared down at his beautiful boy, at his only son, not daring to look away. If he looked away for even an instant, his child might disappear. No, he would not look away. He would have this moment for as long as he could. In the street there was honking and shouting. The baby slept peacefully, wrapped in an old blue blanket. His little fists, tiny to the point of absurdity, were balled and held against his mouth. He let out a small hiccup as he slept. The man laughed softly, feeling an immense amount of joy in the thing his boy had just done. [I]This is my living, breathing son[/I], he thought to himself. [I]That was my son’s noise. My son made that noise with his own mouth.[/I] In the distance, a siren sounded. The father felt joy because the boy could do no wrong. How could he? Looking down upon the bundle of blanket and skin, the notion that this child could cause any harm was ridiculous. And besides, angels don’t hurt. Gifts from God cannot bring about pain. They can only bring happiness, contentment, and wonder. The alley was wet from the morning rain. With an introspective smile, the father looked at the face of his precious boy. He wondered if he would grow to be a good, strong man. He wondered if his son would do the things that he never could. He wondered if his son would love any person the same way that his father loved him, right now, at this moment. The evening air was cold. With small pouting noises, the son awoke. The father felt cold inside himself, inside his chest. [I] His eyes[/I], he thought, [I]his eyes are just like hers[/I]. But they were so different. The fire in his son’s eyes was shining, hungry to see and to learn and to understand. His mother’s eyes were losing focus. His mother’s eyes were dimming as her breathing became slow and shallow. Her eyes were meaningless glass balls inside of a skull, her mouth a maw of flesh, her hair was tattered cloth. The father could not stop the tears. As he lifted the silver trash-can lid, the baby started to cry. He did not try to calm the child. He lowered the bundle in his arms gently into the cylinder, laying it to rest atop a pile of refuse. The child was bawling in earnest. His fists flailed against the air and his little body. Sobbing, the father bent down and kissed his son’s silky, warm forehead. The shadow of the trash-can lid traversing the child’s face was like the moon that eclipses the sun.[/COLOR]

Not to sound rude or anything- because this is a serious question- but do you think you're [I]ready[/I]to be confirmed? I mean, you're talking about picking a name, and filling out forms, when really none of that should be a problem. Picking a confirmation name isn't like picking your x-men codename. In fact, I don't even like to think of this process as "picking a confirmation name" at all. You shouldn't be searching the internet for a name, you should be searching your heart and soul for the saint that you believe holds a special place in your life. Nobody but you can decide who that is. And once you have realized who this special saint is, you [I]then[/I]take on his or her name as a symbol of the closeness you feel with that saint. Don't worry about how the name sounds. If you've spent your entire life praying to saint peter, and you feel that he has interceded to help you live a better life, then don't turn your back on him just because the name "peter" isn't cool and biblical. Hypothetical example. Hope I helped a little.

[quote name='Lrb'][COLOR="DimGray"][SIZE="1"]You shall receive plenty from this movie. I was lucky enough to see this at one of the Midnight Showings last night. The theater was [i]packed[/i] and by the end of the 2 hour and a half hour masterpiece everyone was sweating. Heath Ledger. What can I say? The man is now officially my god. Every little quirk and motion Ledger does is perfect. Not only is he the best Joker, but he's the best [I]villain[/I] in any movie I've ever seen. The movie was brilliant. I'm seeing it again. 'Nuff said.[/SIZE][/COLOR][/QUOTE] I'm hesitant to agree with the contention that Ledger made the best villain of all time. I am [I]hesitant[/I], not in complete disagreement. However, I hope nobody will be able to post on this thread that Ledger's performance was not some of the best acting seen for a very long time. The lip-licking. 'Nuff said.

I have a question that I would like to ask the more observant members of the boards who have seen the movie: [spoiler]When The Joker pulls the "disappearing pencil" magic trick, where does the pencil end up? Nose? Eye? Mouth? It was too quick and I didn't catch it.[/spoiler] It's been bothering me...

[B]Your OtakuBoards Username:[/B] Mykul [B]Nickname[/B]: Mike [B]Age:[/B] 18 [B]Gender:[/B] Male [B]Why are you better than every other member on this forum?[/B] That question borders on insanity. Hopefully there does not exist [I]any[/I] member of this forum that would contend that he or she is better than [I]every[/I] other member at [I]everything[/I]. That being said, I am confident enough to discuss my personal strengths. I am a fairly gifted writer with a flare for all things linguistic (like the fact that you used the wrong "than" when asking me this question). Creative non-fiction and poetry are my points of pride. Also, I dare to say that I rank somewhere near the top of the list of physically fit OBers.

Paul was only half-aware when Kiruna came back into the room. Paul tried to look at him, to focus on Kiruna as the world spun around him. He stopped this futile struggle when his stomach began to heave again. With a grunt, Paul shifted his head on the pillow and clumsily tried to whipe the sick from his mouth. Above him, Kiruna's lips were opening and closing in a farsical mute speech. Whatever Kiruna was saying was falling upon deaf ears. [I]Stupid bastard, does he actually think I can understand him?[/I] Paul was so far gone he could barely understand his own thoughts, let alone Kiruna's words. And yet Kiruna kept on talking. After some time, Paul could begin to distinguish words like "Dinner" and "get up." Then Kiruna vanished from sight and did other things around the room that Paul did not turn to see. In the time that it took Kiruna to busy himself with other things, Paul pieced together what was going on. Kiruna returned to the bedside in evening-wear, and this time Paul could clearly make out what was said to him. [B]"Well...are you coming?"[/B] The look on Kiruna's face when he said this was a mix of trepidation and remorse. Paul shook his head and was able to mutter two words. [B]"Not going."[/B] [I]OOC:[/I]Go ahead and go to dinner without me, just don't [I]finish[/I] dinner without me. ;)

[quote name='Alucard']win? I say so at least.[/QUOTE] [I]What?![/I] Noooooooo! Gotta be korey's packer joke!

"If you give a moose a muffin, he'll want some jam to go with it. If you give a monkey an axe and dress him up like a clown...well...you'll see." [I]Hopefully somebody here read that book when they were a little kid too.[/I]

[B]OOC: I'm going to assume that the three-way conversation is winding down, since Skye doesn't want to continue in front of Jacob. If that isn't ok then feel free to do whatever you like with this post.[/B] Paul flopped back down onto his towel, defeated and slightly sore. He wanted to dig a hole in the sand and crawl into it for a few days, until he had forgotten about his recent embarassment. [I]Hold on. Maybe I'm being a bit overdramatic here. I mean, lots of people try to surf and fall down, right?[/I] Paul's apprehension began to abate a little, until Inuko walked up to him from the water. [B]"Man! You sure do stink at surfing!"[/B] She exclaimed in the same cheery and sardonic tone as before. Her smile drove him over the edge. Paul stood up quickly and began to storm away, back towards the hotel. Inuko began to call after him in a mocking tone. [B]"Aw! Come on, tough guy! Don't go!"[/B] Paul stopped in his tracks. Terrible words began to build up in his throat. It took all of his energy and willpower to swallow them down again and continue walking. He felt dizzy from the effort of not verbally attacking this insufferable girl. Paul was halfway between the beach and the hotel's large outdoor pool when the ocean breeze carried a voice to his ear. [SIZE="2"][B]"-and don't worry about paul. You honestly think I could see anything in that meat-head?"[/B][/SIZE] The words cut through him like a knife. Paul turned towards the beach to see Jacob, Kiruna, and Skye talking and smiling together. The voice he heard had definitely belonged to Skye. That was the icing on the cake. All of Paul's anger and attitude rushed out of him like floodwater. Replacing these emotions were feelings of sadness and fatigue. [I]I need to get to my place, need to lie down for a bit. Maybe get something to drink...[/I] Paul thought to himself as he trudged back to the hotel and made his way back to his penthouse.

No, Steph, I love it! Thank you!

[B]OOC:[/B][B] Sorry for the quick re-post, but it's 4 AM and I can't sleep.[/B] [B]"I doubt you looked like a floundering fish. You're way too pretty."[/B] Paul tried to keep his voice flat and his eyes brooding, but something inside of him had sparked to life when he said those words. He had never felt that way in his entire life. He had said a nice thing to a girl...and [I]meant it![/I] Without any sarcasm, malice, or intention of getting laid, he had meant it. The look of surprise on Skye's face quickly faded. Was she red in the face? Was she blushing, or was she merely flustered from the heat? [B]"Ok, first things first, wait in position like this..."[/B] she moved Paul into a proper wave-catching position. Paul began to feel warmer as her hand moved across his broad shoulders. [B]"Ok, now what?"[/B] Paul tried his best to keep his voice even. [B]"Now we wait for a wave!"[/B] Said Skye cheerily. A sense of dread began to build in Paul's chest. [I]Great. I get to whipeout in front of her AGAIN.[/I] [B]"Ok, here comes a good one!"[/B] Skye exclaimed.

I leave all such decisions up to whichever saintly artist will accept my request.

Shortest post I have ever...posted... "Pizza EP", an album by Horse The Band. Enough said. This can hardly be called a pizza thread without some mention of the Pizza album...

Paul was lying on the beach, watching moodily as the group had fun in the water. He wished like hell that he could let loose and join them, but years of social posturing wouldn't let him. He couldn't do anything fun and cool like surfing, and he knew that he would look foolish trying to learn. Even though it was apparent to Paul that he was in kind company, and that nobody would belittle his lack of coordination, he knew that he would eat sand and damage his strange and fragile ego. [I]I'll just lie here until they decide to do something else,[/I] Paul thought to himself. Without warning and from out of the blue, Inuko trotted up behind Paul and sat down beside him. She was panting slightly. [B]"Hey there! What's eating you?"[/B] She said in an energetic and amiable tone.[B]"Don't you see the water? Come on in!"[/B] She tugged on Paul's arm, but only lightly, as they had not yet officially met. Paul yanked his hand away. Again, he was acting more aggressively than he himself wanted. [B]"I'm fine right where I am,"[/B] he said darkly. Inuko, however, seemed impervious to his bad manners. [B]"I bet you're scared,[/B] she said in a teasing and matter-of-fact tone. [B]"I bet you can't even swim."[/B] Paul's self-image had heard enough. Without a word, he got up and strode into the water, heading for Kiruna who was fetching a surfboard. [I]This is a stupid idea. Really.[/I] Paul whistled, and Kiruna looked up. [B]Hey! Slide me that board real quick, Kiruna!"[/B] He shouted, hoping that none of the copious amount of reservation he had in his mind could be heard in his voice. [I]I'm an idiot. Prepare to eat beach, tough guy,[/I] he thought to himself glummly.

Paul heaved on his swimsuit with a heavy sigh. The loneliness of his trip was already getting to him, and it was only his first day. He knew things would only get worse, too, if he continued being such an ass to people. He grabbed his towel, ipod, lotion, and walked to the elevator. He made sure to shut and lock the normal hotel door that seperated his penthouse from the public elevator. He pressed the G button and began his descent. As the LED display above the door read [B][COLOR="Red"][SIZE="4"]8[/SIZE][/COLOR][/B], the elevator stopped and opened up for a new passenger. In walked Skye, wearing skin-tight jean shorts and a fish net-type top over her swimsuit. Paul quickly glanced away as she walked in, trying to seem tough and aloof. Her voice caught him off guard. [B]"Paul Cheung! I didn't know you were staying here! What's up?" [/B]Paul was amazed by the sincere kindness in her voice. All pretense of apathy and badass-ness melted away in an instant. [B]"Oh, you know, same old. Going down to the beach to get some sun." [/B] Paul was careful not to look at her shapely body for too long. [B]"Oh, cool me too. I'm meeting up with Jacob and Kiruna and some others. You remember all of them, right?"[/B] Paul nodded. [B]"Well,"[/B] Skye prodded. [B]"Are you meeting up with any friends?" [/B] [I]Why did she have to phrase it like that?[/I] Paul thought angrily. He sighed a little. [B]"No," [/B]he answered, adding silently to himself: [I]I don't have any friends.[/I] [B]OOC:[/B] Hope you don't mind me dressing you, Stephanie. :)

[B]OOC: This is my apology post. Sorry, everyone, that it has taken me so long to post. I forgot my laptop when I went on vacation. Sadly, this post is all I have time for, since I must leave for work promptly and I have not had time to read all the previous posts. I will post my first soon. Tonight.[/B]