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Author Topic: A great example of poor writing.  (Read 1849 times)

Max White

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A great example of poor writing.
« on: February 26, 2011, 06:43:24 am »

So, enjoy laughing at crappy writing style. I may continue, well most likely will. If only to keep myself entertained.



First entry.
As I walked, creatures slipped from the edge of my eyesight, most vanishing before I could make out form or figure. I continued, through a pitch black mist, broken only by single flashes of brilliance, step after step into nowhere. Almost without warning, I stumbled forward, falling down onto the hard, smooth floor. Looking up, a creature presented itself to me. Its rough scales showing through the black atmosphere. Its body twisted like a snake, leading into a human torso. Two long, sleek arms fell from its shoulders, ending in long, sharp pikes. Its face was familiar, and human, but lacking any features that human need to show joy, love or sympathy. Its head was bald, and eyes were lidless, and through thin lips it showed no signs of possessing teeth.

When it spoke, it used my voice, as if to prove beyond a doubt that it belonged to me, and no other. “You have to make me exist” it pleaded, “please, let me exist!” As it begged for my hand as a creator, it started to fade from site, into the dark void. I had no choice, it had already taken from me, and to not grant its wish would slowly poison me. In my small sketch book, I did my best to copy its figure, but in the end all I could manage was a crude copy. Together, we both felt disappointed, that its existence may never become anything more. I promised it then one day, I would grant its final wish. One day it would be real.

It was too late. The world around me faded, from black to bleak. The polished black floor turned back into the soft blanket that I had been rubbing my feet against since I started to wander. I was back in the world of the tangible, a place I never left, and despite this, I had once again lost something in the darkness, and found a friend in its place. I looked at the sketch I had so much hope for, and knew that if I did not comply with the contract I had made to this monster, I would pay for it later. It needed a name, an identity, a self, it needed more from me, or its toxin would continue. I took my pencil and along the bottom edge of the paper I wrote ‘Blade Naga’.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Max White

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Re: A great example of poor writing.
« Reply #1 on: February 26, 2011, 08:17:03 am »

Hey look, it goes on!


“So what are you doing for the rest of the day, Noah?” she asked me. It was an invitation to go to her place, and spend the afternoon being lazy and unconstructive.
“I was thinking of going to a friend’s place”, I replied, doing the best to play my part in her game.
“Oh, sounds like a lot of fun! I would like to come along, but I was planning on inviting somebody over today” she teased. This was her game, and I knew she was better at it then I was.
“Well, that’s a shame. I mean there isn’t much to do at your place, so really, what could you have planned?” I sparred back, begging to know what she had in mind.
“I think maybe I could model my new panties for him, and see where things go. Who knows how things will end out!” a trump card, there was nothing left for me to gain.
“Alright, I break. I’ll come over. If only to keep you from sleeping with some random.” I threw back, hoping for the best. She smiled at the joke. I started to wonder if she was joking about the underwear. Emily was a close friend, but she was also good looking, and I wasn’t the kind of guy who was going to turn down the offer. The truth is that given the chance, I would have gladly gone out with her. There had been times when I had day dreamed about being with her. I would take her to the harbour to watch a movie, before catching one of those water taxies over to the quay and visiting the art museum. Then later on I would take her to the nearby cafe that serves chocolate fondue, and we would share the meal.

Standing in a dark place, the blade naga struck me across my face. The sharp chitin of its swords digging into my flesh. I collapsed to my knees from the burning pain.

“Great!” she replied, bringing me back into realty, “I’ll call my dad to get a lift!”
Despite my best efforts, I still hadn’t been able to convince her to move out of home. I knew it was a selfish effort, praying that if I could lull her away from the low rent, good food and loving company of home, she might be tempted to share an apartment with me instead. Then, living together I would cook a meal that she would love, and slowly she would start to flirt with me, and soon enough we would move beyond being friends, into a more romantic relationship.

Staggering to my feet, I tried to fend off my attacker, but I was almost blind from the blood spilling down my face. The naga slashed at me again, leaving a great gash in my upper left arm. More blood.

I found myself getting inside the car. On the way to her place I sat quietly, looking out the window. Emily insisted on sitting in the front passenger seat, leaving me in the back. I liked to imagine a ninja running along at the same speed of the car, jumping over houses and balancing on power lines. The way he moved was like from some old NES game, as he rolled under cars and jumped over fences. All he needed was an annoying side kick with two tails and the scene would be perfect.

The naga laughed at my vein efforts to stop the bleeding from my face. It laughed at me, the one who t needed so badly.

We spent most of that evening in her room listening to her sort of music. Bands like Plumtree and AIH, things I would normally never be into, but for her I was willing to go along with it. She called it ‘twee’, I agreed with her, if only to not upset her. I did a lot to not upset her, but she was such a good friend to me that it wasn’t something that played on my mind. Although that could have been a wrong move, for me. To her I was like a brother, so dating wasn’t very likely. She trusted me, a lot, and telling her that I was into her would have strained things to a level she didn’t deserve. If I could have gone back in time, then when we met I would have done things differently. Been bigger, and bolder. I would have asked her out before getting too close, and then she might have gone out with me. I could have been her white knight, the perfect guy who would have done anything for her, and she would hug my arm and ask for nothing from me.

Still laughing, the naga stabbed me through the chest. I doubled over in pain. That was it, I had lost against it today. The naga ruled over me as I laid crippled on the smooth, cold floor.

FearfulJesuit

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Re: A great example of poor writing.
« Reply #2 on: February 28, 2011, 07:12:09 am »

If you want really bad writing, try this.
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@Footjob, you can microwave most grains I've tried pretty easily through the microwave, even if they aren't packaged for it.

Psyco Jelly

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Re: A great example of poor writing.
« Reply #3 on: March 02, 2011, 01:49:00 am »

I got all of one paragraph into my immortal after hearing how legendarily bad it was. Then I didn't read anymore. I have an emotion right now I cannot describe. Words fail. Thoughts are sliced in half. And I think I'm a little nauseous and my bones itch. 
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Not only is it not actually advertising anything, it's just copy/pasting word salads about gold, runescape, oil, yuan, and handbags.  It's like a transporter accident combined all the spambots into one shambling mass of online sales.

Sabin Stargem

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Re: A great example of poor writing.
« Reply #4 on: March 02, 2011, 03:51:43 am »

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FearfulJesuit

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Re: A great example of poor writing.
« Reply #5 on: March 02, 2011, 01:11:49 pm »

Tara Gillesbie, Fanfic Writer, has created My Immortal, a perfectly terrible fanfiction!

This is a perfectly terrible fanfiction. It is encircled with bands of goffik and menaces with spikes of facepalm.
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@Footjob, you can microwave most grains I've tried pretty easily through the microwave, even if they aren't packaged for it.