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[GiglameshDespair]

Oh, there's four?
That... should be enough. I'd thought there was only three, and that's the level of "not enough submissions to make it count".

Ah, that's good.

[TD1]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I held a scalpel ere the spear
And worked to save the common lives
Of those who looked at me with fear
When I saved them, their sons and wives.

And then my brother died.
He was my rock, and knew my mood.
When others laughed he smiled with me -
When others sat, he was the one who stood.

And how the battle rages round my life
Without a single death for me. I am
A vagabond, doomed to walk the Storm.
Blessed, and yet cursed to live.

My brother died, as do my men,
But I live on. A fool in soldier's cloth
Whose feet have trod o'er hill and fen.
I live to be a plague to those I love.

But this time I'll succeed. This time
Will bring the light of hope into my life.
They will not die, for I have willed it so.
They will survive, for I will make it so.

And I have been punished by brand and beard
To be a lesser. Fear me, then, you better men!
I faced the charge of Plate and felled the foe,
And in so doing lost my friends. Fear me.

I will be the blight that gnaws your mind -
With spear, knife, thought and will I'll come
For though my friends all think me kind,
You bastard nobles, fond of death
Will fear me ere my day is done.

Can you guess the source? Try today!

[Nullsrc]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

   The project manager finally appeared. In contrast, I seemed to like him more; he was a good deal more cold and results-focused than anything else.

   “350 weeks to go, Nicole. Think you can hold out?” I nodded yes. “Want to talk to anyone?” I nodded no. “You sure? We can set up a link to anyone you’d like.” No again. “Fine with me. Just that much less work and stuff to report. Just so you know, there’s a supply delivery scheduled for CoSINE a few days from now. You’ll get some more food, a few more personal articles, and a setup to improve your internet speeds. I trust you can figure out how it works.”

   “Thanks.”

   “Not a problem. Next status report is scheduled for 691-0 12:45:00”

   I gave a little hum of approval, and the signal went dead. There was an audible sigh of relief that escaped me. I was free from another week’s worth of questions and data collection, in one sense. The data collection never stopped, however, because the confines of the world I knew were rigged up with a variety of sensory devices so they could track my vitals and other various statistics.

   With nothing else to do at present, I began to turn over some ideas in my mind as to how I was going to spend the rest of the day. There was some educational work that I had yet to complete, but it wasn’t pressing and I didn’t care much for it. Instead, I passed a stretch of several minutes in a kind of haze, enraptured by the view outside one of the glass panes. Stars were beautiful things, and spending the time just looking at them come and go in a matter of hours, looking at the constellations I knew of, or simply making my own was an excellent way to pass the time. One of the most beautiful things I had ever seen was a supernova, and most of its beauty lay in its unexpectedness - the lack of a plan to see a supernova, and the fulfillment of a desire I never knew existed until it was satiated was one of the little joys of CoSINE.

   Some might be miserable if they were in my place. Some might break down and lose control of the most basic of function. Most would marvel at anyone who could stand 690 weeks of isolation and not consider it torture. I was not one of them.

   Beneath my passive demeanor was the happiness that I derived from the life I led here. I hadn’t asked for it - it had been given to me. A haven for me; a hell for most.

Been working on getting a new concept for a novel off the ground after I managed to write one last year; this is an excerpt from the end of the first chapter. This time I'm focusing on a more defined char (main char in previous work was on the bland side) and creating a more character-centric conflict.

[Cheesecake]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

   The project manager finally appeared. In contrast, I seemed to like him more; he was a good deal more cold and results-focused than anything else.

   “350 weeks to go, Nicole. Think you can hold out?” I nodded yes. “Want to talk to anyone?” I nodded no. “You sure? We can set up a link to anyone you’d like.” No again. “Fine with me. Just that much less work and stuff to report. Just so you know, there’s a supply delivery scheduled for CoSINE a few days from now. You’ll get some more food, a few more personal articles, and a setup to improve your internet speeds. I trust you can figure out how it works.”

   “Thanks.”

   “Not a problem. Next status report is scheduled for 691-0 12:45:00”

   I gave a little hum of approval, and the signal went dead. There was an audible sigh of relief that escaped me. I was free from another week’s worth of questions and data collection, in one sense. The data collection never stopped, however, because the confines of the world I knew were rigged up with a variety of sensory devices so they could track my vitals and other various statistics.

   With nothing else to do at present, I began to turn over some ideas in my mind as to how I was going to spend the rest of the day. There was some educational work that I had yet to complete, but it wasn’t pressing and I didn’t care much for it. Instead, I passed a stretch of several minutes in a kind of haze, enraptured by the view outside one of the glass panes. Stars were beautiful things, and spending the time just looking at them come and go in a matter of hours, looking at the constellations I knew of, or simply making my own was an excellent way to pass the time. One of the most beautiful things I had ever seen was a supernova, and most of its beauty lay in its unexpectedness - the lack of a plan to see a supernova, and the fulfillment of a desire I never knew existed until it was satiated was one of the little joys of CoSINE.

   Some might be miserable if they were in my place. Some might break down and lose control of the most basic of function. Most would marvel at anyone who could stand 690 weeks of isolation and not consider it torture. I was not one of them.

   Beneath my passive demeanor was the happiness that I derived from the life I led here. I hadn’t asked for it - it had been given to me. A haven for me; a hell for most.

Been working on getting a new concept for a novel off the ground after I managed to write one last year; this is an excerpt from the end of the first chapter. This time I'm focusing on a more defined char (main char in previous work was on the bland side) and creating a more character-centric conflict.

I'm really interested in this! Wondering what she does exactly.... you mind sharing the novel concept?

[Orange Wizard]

Thought I might as well share this. From the beginning of a thing I'm writing. My writing style is weird. The forum doesn't support paragraph spacing and I can't be bothered adding in new lines. RIP.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Hans scratched his head. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. A man, stark naked apart from the pointy orange hat on his head, had just run past. Now, it wasn’t that the park next to the local highschool was an uncommon target for streakers – quite the opposite, in fact. And if Hans had been a little more alert, he might have realised that he had seen that man before. But that they had already met is not relevant to the plot, and will not be mentioned here.
In any case, what really stood out to Hans was the girl the naked man was carrying, about eight or nine years old, and the three women in hijabs who were chasing after them.
Obviously, any sane person would promptly call the police, but for some reason the thought never entered Hans’ mind, and he instead decided to join the hijab-wearing women and chase the indecently-dressed kidnapper through the park.
It wasn’t long before the man started to slow down. He wasn’t in the best shape to begin with, and lugging a child around with him probably didn’t help either. Hans and the three women quickly caught up and surrounded him.
“Let her go,” said one woman, trying to catch her breath.
“Never!” declared the man. “She is marked by God; a powerful sorceress! It is my duty as a wizard to protect her!”
“Sorceress!” the girl echoed, flinging her hands into the air, and bashing the naked man in the nose hard enough for him to drop her. She landed on the grass with a thump, and sat there, looking contemplative.
Everyone stood quietly for a moment while a couple of students hurried past, whispering to each other about the strange group assembled in the park. Once they were out of earshot, Hans turned to face the women and asked what everyone else was undoubtedly wondering:
“What the hell is going on?”
The three women shuffled around uncertainly. Eventually, they started speaking.
“Well, we’re actually prostitutes.”
“That guy got us to put these weird robes on before we did anything.”
“Then the girl came in and he started acting funny.”
“It’s not cool to get kids involved in stuff like that.”
“Wait, where’d he go?” One of the women suddenly looked very panicked, and the feeling soon spread when the others realised why – the man was gone, leaving the girl on the grass, absently picking clover.
Hans glanced around the park. A naked man in an orange hat tends to stand out, but he couldn’t see one anywhere. But before a search party could be gathered, the man burst out from a nearby shrub, this time wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt in addition to the conical hat.
“Zounds!” he cried, with depressing finality. “I am clothed again.” It wasn’t typically a thing to be depressed about, though this fact seemed to be lost on him. He continued, unabated.
“Emily, my faithful student! We must hurry, lest we miss the plane!”
The girl, apparently named Emily, leapt to her feet, shouting, “Yes, Master Simeon!”
“For God’s sake, girl,” said the self-proclaimed wizard, “my name is Simon. Simeon was the other guy.”
Emily stared at him flatly, before sighing. “Mon,” she finished.
One of the women doubled over in her hijab, struggling to contain her laughter.
“Plane?” asked Hans, still unsure of what the hell was going on.
“Indeed,” said Simon, “we are flying to Liechtenstein.”
“Flying!” echoed Emily, waving her arms emphatically.
“Although it looks like we might have missed it anyway,” he continued, checking a wristwatch that probably wasn’t there before, “because the plane left at half past two, and it’s now a quarter past three.”
With that, he scooped up Emily and bolted off. Hans watched him run across the park, the three women in hot pursuit.
That was weird, he thought, and turned back towards home.

[Emma]

Thought I might as well share this. From the beginning of a thing I'm writing. My writing style is weird. The forum doesn't support paragraph spacing and I can't be bothered adding in new lines. RIP.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Hans scratched his head. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. A man, stark naked apart from the pointy orange hat on his head, had just run past. Now, it wasn’t that the park next to the local highschool was an uncommon target for streakers – quite the opposite, in fact. And if Hans had been a little more alert, he might have realised that he had seen that man before. But that they had already met is not relevant to the plot, and will not be mentioned here.
In any case, what really stood out to Hans was the girl the naked man was carrying, about eight or nine years old, and the three women in hijabs who were chasing after them.
Obviously, any sane person would promptly call the police, but for some reason the thought never entered Hans’ mind, and he instead decided to join the hijab-wearing women and chase the indecently-dressed kidnapper through the park.
It wasn’t long before the man started to slow down. He wasn’t in the best shape to begin with, and lugging a child around with him probably didn’t help either. Hans and the three women quickly caught up and surrounded him.
“Let her go,” said one woman, trying to catch her breath.
“Never!” declared the man. “She is marked by God; a powerful sorceress! It is my duty as a wizard to protect her!”
“Sorceress!” the girl echoed, flinging her hands into the air, and bashing the naked man in the nose hard enough for him to drop her. She landed on the grass with a thump, and sat there, looking contemplative.
Everyone stood quietly for a moment while a couple of students hurried past, whispering to each other about the strange group assembled in the park. Once they were out of earshot, Hans turned to face the women and asked what everyone else was undoubtedly wondering:
“What the hell is going on?”
The three women shuffled around uncertainly. Eventually, they started speaking.
“Well, we’re actually prostitutes.”
“That guy got us to put these weird robes on before we did anything.”
“Then the girl came in and he started acting funny.”
“It’s not cool to get kids involved in stuff like that.”
“Wait, where’d he go?” One of the women suddenly looked very panicked, and the feeling soon spread when the others realised why – the man was gone, leaving the girl on the grass, absently picking clover.
Hans glanced around the park. A naked man in an orange hat tends to stand out, but he couldn’t see one anywhere. But before a search party could be gathered, the man burst out from a nearby shrub, this time wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt in addition to the conical hat.
“Zounds!” he cried, with depressing finality. “I am clothed again.” It wasn’t typically a thing to be depressed about, though this fact seemed to be lost on him. He continued, unabated.
“Emily, my faithful student! We must hurry, lest we miss the plane!”
The girl, apparently named Emily, leapt to her feet, shouting, “Yes, Master Simeon!”
“For God’s sake, girl,” said the self-proclaimed wizard, “my name is Simon. Simeon was the other guy.”
Emily stared at him flatly, before sighing. “Mon,” she finished.
One of the women doubled over in her hijab, struggling to contain her laughter.
“Plane?” asked Hans, still unsure of what the hell was going on.
“Indeed,” said Simon, “we are flying to Liechtenstein.”
“Flying!” echoed Emily, waving her arms emphatically.
“Although it looks like we might have missed it anyway,” he continued, checking a wristwatch that probably wasn’t there before, “because the plane left at half past two, and it’s now a quarter past three.”
With that, he scooped up Emily and bolted off. Hans watched him run across the park, the three women in hot pursuit.
That was weird, he thought, and turned back towards home.

That was bloody great, I need more.

[Orange Wizard]

I've got more in the works, eventually, and if we're very lucky I might not even abandon it after a few chapters.

[Nullsrc]

I'm really interested in this! Wondering what she does exactly.... you mind sharing the novel concept?

Main thing I've got down right now is that she's the control test subject for some long-term space life technology, designed to counteract the negative effects of weightlessness. When several weeks pass without any word from HQ, she manages to return the satellite to earth, where she finds that practically all electronics have been destroyed and people have simply started killing each other over it.

[GiglameshDespair]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

   The project manager finally appeared. In contrast, I seemed to like him more (than what?); he was a good deal more cold and results-focused than anything else.

   “350 weeks to go, Nicole. Think you can hold out?” I nodded yes(nodding is a positive confirmation by definition. The 'yes' is unnecessary.). “Want to talk to anyone?” I nodded no.(What? No, you could shake your head, but that's not nodding.) “You sure? We can set up a link to anyone you’d like.” No again. “Fine with me. Just that much less work and stuff to report. Just so you know, there’s a supply delivery scheduled for CoSINE a few days from now. You’ll get some more food, a few more personal articles, and a setup to improve your internet speeds. I trust you can figure out how it works.”

   “Thanks.”

   “Not a problem. Next status report is scheduled for 691-0 12:45:00” (Missing full stop.)

   I gave a little hum of approval, and the signal went dead. There was an audible sigh of relief that escaped me. I was free from another week’s worth of questions and data collection, in one sense. The data collection never stopped, however, because the confines of the world I knew were rigged up with a variety of sensory devices so they could track my vitals and other various statistics.

   With nothing else to do at present, I began to turn over some ideas in my mind as to how I was going to spend the rest of the day. There was some educational work that I had yet to complete, but it wasn’t pressing and I didn’t care much for it. Instead, I passed a stretch of several minutes in a kind of haze, enraptured by the view outside one of the glass panes. Stars were beautiful things, and spending the time just looking at them come and go in a matter of hours, looking at the constellations I knew of, or simply making my own was an excellent way to pass the time. One of the most beautiful things I had ever seen was a supernova, and most of its beauty lay in its unexpectedness - the lack of a plan to see a supernova, and the fulfilment of a desire I never knew existed until it was satiated was one of the little joys of CoSINE.

   [Some might be miserable if they were in my place. Some might break down and lose control of the most basic of function (s). Most would marvel at anyone who could stand 690 weeks of isolation and not consider it torture. I was not one of them.

   Beneath my passive demeanor was the happiness that I derived from the life I led here. I hadn’t asked for it - it had been given to me. A haven for me; a hell for most. ](This probably could have been one paragraph.)

Been working on getting a new concept for a novel off the ground after I managed to write one last year; this is an excerpt from the end of the first chapter. This time I'm focusing on a more defined char (main char in previous work was on the bland side) and creating a more character-centric conflict.

Is a few things perhaps to correct.

Thought I might as well share this. From the beginning of a thing I'm writing. My writing style is weird. The forum doesn't support paragraph spacing and I can't be bothered adding in new lines. RIP.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Hans scratched his head. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. A man, stark naked apart from the pointy orange hat on his head, had just run past. Now, it wasn’t that the park next to the local highschool was an uncommon target for streakers – quite the opposite, in fact. And if Hans had been a little more alert, he might have realised that he had seen that man before. But that they had already met is not relevant to the plot, and will not be mentioned here.
In any case, what really stood out to Hans was the girl the naked man was carrying, about eight or nine years old, and the three women in hijabs who were chasing after them.
Obviously, any sane person would promptly call the police, but for some reason the thought never entered Hans’ mind, and he instead decided to join the hijab-wearing women and chase the indecently-dressed kidnapper through the park.
It wasn’t long before the man started to slow down. He wasn’t in the best shape to begin with, and lugging a child around with him probably didn’t help either. Hans and the three women quickly caught up and surrounded him.
“Let her go,” said one woman, trying to catch her breath.
“Never!” declared the man. “She is marked by God; a powerful sorceress! It is my duty as a wizard to protect her!”
“Sorceress!” the girl echoed, flinging her hands into the air, and bashing the naked man in the nose hard enough for him to drop her. She landed on the grass with a thump, and sat there, looking contemplative.
Everyone stood quietly for a moment while a couple of students hurried past, whispering to each other about the strange group assembled in the park. Once they were out of earshot, Hans turned to face the women and asked what everyone else was undoubtedly wondering:
“What the hell is going on?”
The three women shuffled around uncertainly. Eventually, they started speaking.
“Well, we’re actually prostitutes.”
“That guy got us to put these weird robes on before we did anything.”
“Then the girl came in and he started acting funny.”
“It’s not cool to get kids involved in stuff like that.”
“Wait, where’d he go?” One of the women suddenly looked very panicked, and the feeling soon spread when the others realised why – the man was gone, leaving the girl on the grass, absently picking clover.
Hans glanced around the park. A naked man in an orange hat tends to stand out, but he couldn’t see one anywhere. But before a search party could be gathered, the man burst out from a nearby shrub, this time wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt in addition to the conical hat.
“Zounds!” he cried, with depressing finality. “I am clothed again.” It wasn’t typically a thing to be depressed about, though this fact seemed to be lost on him. He continued, unabated.
“Emily, my faithful student! We must hurry, lest we miss the plane!”
The girl, apparently named Emily, leapt to her feet, shouting, “Yes, Master Simeon!”
“For God’s sake, girl,” said the self-proclaimed wizard, “my name is Simon. Simeon was the other guy.”
Emily stared at him flatly, before sighing. “Mon,” she finished.
One of the women doubled over in her hijab, struggling to contain her laughter.
“Plane?” asked Hans, still unsure of what the hell was going on.
“Indeed,” said Simon, “we are flying to Liechtenstein.”
“Flying!” echoed Emily, waving her arms emphatically.
“Although it looks like we might have missed it anyway,” he continued, checking a wristwatch that probably wasn’t there before, “because the plane left at half past two, and it’s now a quarter past three.”
With that, he scooped up Emily and bolted off. Hans watched him run across the park, the three women in hot pursuit.
That was weird, he thought, and turned back towards home.

Break it up into distinct paragraphs would be my recommendation.

[Nullsrc]

Thanks for the input. I've implemented some and kept my version for others just because I arbitrarily decided I liked it stylistically. It's all appreciated though, and I know that I like what I'm keeping, which is always good.

[TD1]

It's late December. In a corner, flame
Throws shadows on the floor.
I sit, thinking of the cold winter rain
Blasting outside my stead-fast door.

My walls will hold, but not the trees
Who groan within the throes of sleep -
Their time has come to pay the fees
Which death collects come winter's reap.

And how the slate grey lake is tossed
So much a fisher may not dare its ways.
Thrice damned, the waves roll on uncrossed
Until some better, freer days.

I settle deep into the comfort and am glad
To hear the wind. It comforts as it maims,
But it mars naught that I have had
And so I hold it not to blame.

How strange it is for one to crack its cheeks
And bring serenity. How strange, how rare
To have a storm and never fear the leaks
Such bring. Instead, to think it fair

And love it for its passioned life.
It brings within its motion hope
That darkness, in the end, will not be wife
To those poor fools who end upon the rope.

I rise when ash is all that's left of flame,
And sigh. The wind goes on and does not die
But not that smaller life. The tempest overrode
Its effort at the last. No one will cry, and yet

To say I'd thought as much
Would be to lie.

[GiglameshDespair]

Spoiler: Intro (click to show/hide)

   The fire crackled in the background, the coals left untended. Rocky slopes above cut a stark outline against the dark sky, mountain peaks clouded out of sight. (How is it a stark outline if it's cloudy? Also, 'clouded' isn't used that way.) A brief orange glimmer peeked through the obscure folds. (Obscure folds of what?)A soft but sure voice started. (Started talking, one would assume. You could expand this. A familiar voice, soft but sure, began over the crackling of the coals in the fire. Etc, etc)
   “They are the three central forces we know and believe,” (This would end with a full stop. What are 'they'? The storyteller just started, but that sounds like he'd already been talking for a while.)
   Sett watched the storyteller talk. This one was not a tale, but something much more important. Sett stood and walked away from the storyteller, (you don't need to repeat storyteller here) who was telling the old religious tale (You just said it wasn't a tale. Don't contradict yourself unless you mean to.) to the children. He climbed swiftly up the to the peak (which peak? Where? How? Why?) and stared outward. The night breeze swept past his cheek, lightly caressing the top of his head.
Night.
   Night is the first. Night is clarity.
   He forced the words into his mind. Clarity would certainly be helpful right now.
   The sharp edges of the world, distinguishing one from another.
   The next line came unbidden. Before, he had regarded this as truth. Now he saw the dulled lines, the shifting sand pulled in strange patterns, the rounded peaks flatly pointed (Rounded peaks flatly pointed?... what?). Was this how the world was? Not clear and precise as he had been taught to believe? His foot twitched, catching a vibration in the ground.
   Night is when the senses are the most alert.
   Swiftly, he turned. A cry caught in his throat (Why? Did something startle him? Did the night nut-punch him?) as he scanned the darkness sloping down. A few seconds later, having finished his search, he turned to face outward again. A nearby passerby would not have noticed his eyes half shut in concentration. (Then why say this entire line?)

   The next day he was gone.

Ok, a few things.
I'd also recommend changing your structure and making more distinct paragraphs with empty lines between, ala...

---

He climbed swiftly up the to the peak and stared outward. The night breeze swept past his cheek, lightly caressing the top of his head.

Night.

Night is the first. Night is the clarity. He forced the words into his mind...

---

[NRDL]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The beast awoke in the dark below.  The first thing it was aware of was its fingers.  Twitching, every so slightly, against the surface it lay on.  The beast absently thought that the rest of it must be dead.  It felt warmth only in its fingers, and even then only the very edges.  But that couldn’t be right, it thought.  I’m thinking, it thought.  I’m feeling, it felt.  The rest of me must be alive too.

And just like that, life flooded into the creature’s veins.  It felt everything.  It jumped up, only to crash back down again, writhing in agony.  Feelings hurt, as it quickly realised.  Like fire in ones limbs. 

Fire.  What was fire again?

The beast did not quite rightly know.  It remembered, and it felt, but it did not know.  Huddling itself into a ball, the beast waited out the fire.  Time passed, the beast knew not how long, and its limbs grew cold, cold enough to start missing the heat and the shock and pain.  Only its fingers remained warm.  Having nothing else to do but shiver, the beast tried getting up again.

Slow going would have been an understatement.  Hesitantly, with only the vaguest of impulses telling it what to do, the creature shakily teetered up on its legs ( legs.  it had legs.  this was good. ), its joints making creaking noises.  The scraping of its bones against themselves, even without context of what it meant, disturbed the creature.  Many times it felt like it would fall.  The whole thing would have been much more disorienting if it actually had any sort of visual stimuli to go by. 

But there was nothing to go by.  Nothing to see.  Only the eternal dark, stretching in every direction, and hard floor beneath.  The creature had almost nothing to go on.  Nothing but feeling, noise, thought, and fire.  These were the first things it perceived in this strange existence. 

Suddenly realising the enormity of its situation and ignorance, the beast fell over.

I decided to try that writing technique where you write for 15 minutes then just STOP.  Regardless of where you are.  This is the result, a first chapter I suppose.

[Nullsrc]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

The beast awoke in the dark below.  The first thing it was aware of was its fingers.  Twitching, every so slightly, against the surface it lay on.  The beast absently thought that the rest of it must be dead.  It felt warmth only in its fingers, and even then only the very edges.  But that couldn’t be right, it thought.  I’m thinking, it thought.  I’m feeling, it felt.  The rest of me must be alive too.

And just like that, life flooded into the creature’s veins.  It felt everything.  It jumped up, only to crash back down again, writhing in agony.  Feelings hurt, as it quickly realised.  Like fire in ones limbs. 

Fire.  What was fire again?

The beast did not quite rightly know.  It remembered, and it felt, but it did not know.  Huddling itself into a ball, the beast waited out the fire.  Time passed, the beast knew not how long, and its limbs grew cold, cold enough to start missing the heat and the shock and pain.  Only its fingers remained warm.  Having nothing else to do but shiver, the beast tried getting up again.

Slow going would have been an understatement.  Hesitantly, with only the vaguest of impulses telling it what to do, the creature shakily teetered up on its legs ( legs.  it had legs.  this was good. ), its joints making creaking noises.  The scraping of its bones against themselves, even without context of what it meant, disturbed the creature.  Many times it felt like it would fall.  The whole thing would have been much more disorienting if it actually had any sort of visual stimuli to go by. 

But there was nothing to go by.  Nothing to see.  Only the eternal dark, stretching in every direction, and hard floor beneath.  The creature had almost nothing to go on.  Nothing but feeling, noise, thought, and fire.  These were the first things it perceived in this strange existence. 

Suddenly realising the enormity of its situation and ignorance, the beast fell over.

I decided to try that writing technique where you write for 15 minutes then just STOP.  Regardless of where you are.  This is the result, a first chapter I suppose.

I had fun reading that - really liked the sensory description

In stark contrast, here's part of the second chapter, which I've been working on for the last few days before just yesterday starting in on 3. This is entirely infodump, of which I personally love to read and love to write, even if others do not.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

   The goal of the Tangent missions was simple: Study the effects of a multi-decade life in space. Originally, the founder of CAS had asked to put somewhere around 40 people on a satellite and simply watch what happened, but regulations said that it would be too dangerous to keep 40 people together for 20 years; the most they would approve was two. Thus, the mission was shrunk to two people and two satellites (“only put both of them on one satellite if you wish for neither of them to come home”), one as a control group and one as an experimental group. The only real difference between control and experimental was that the experimental was keep on a much more rigorous diet and exercise schedule. The people in question were to be selected at birth, hand picked from families with few members. Then, while they were still young, they were “flown” into orbit (to avoid the potential trauma of a classical launch.) They would live in space for 20 years, be retrieved, and either held for further study or released if in good health.

   I was the control; the experimental group consisted of Cyrus Rainier, whom I seldom spoke to and in no way cared for.

   Ironically, the greatest contribution CAS had made was not the data from the experiment itself, but instead the full implementation of a technology that had only seen a few prototyping runs. Magnetic gravitational simulation was the best thing we had created to mimic gravity. It had been demonstrated to at least slow the associated atrophy that weightlessness caused, but had only been tested for 6 months. While a few other systems were put in place to facilitate long-term life in space, this was the one that pertained most to me, and the one that CAS desperately wanted to prove was a workable technology.

   In that sense, Cyrus and I were just the test subjects for long-term usage of MGS - while it would work perfectly in theory, theories are just words, and words lie. The basic principle of MGS was to use magnetism as a substitute for gravity, accomplished by a large selective magnet that was attracted to the clothing that Cyrus and I wore, which had magnetic filaments embedded into it. Why they weren’t surgically installed, I was told, was due to the same regulations that provided for their 20-year fund. It didn’t make sense to me, either.

   Ever since the dawn of space flight, a common sentiment had been expressed that weightlessness must be one of the most fun things to experience. I had experienced it, and it was hellish. The only time I would have to go through that nauseating event, luckily, was when I showered, which I also refused to do more than twice a week simply due to how sickening being weightless felt. You could feel every part of you trying to dislocate itself, your organs trying to cram into each other, your muscles becoming more and more confused with every second that you weren’t subject to a force that your body knew should be there. After just a few seconds, you desperately longed for something solid and supportive beneath you again - the inability to move can create paralyzing fear. It was the worst part about living up here, and I dreaded every time I had to go through it. Cyrus, on the other hand, seemed to feel no such discomfort or dread.

   “It’s fun,” he had once told me, in one of the few times we had spoken. “You get to float around, totally free! You can do so many things if you just have a little fun!” I didn’t recall saying anything. I was, instead, preoccupied with playing a game. “You’re not going to say anything back, are you? I bet you won’t have said five words by the time you turn off the connection.”

   “We’ll see about that.” With that, he talked for a while longer on some of the games that I hadn’t played and even a few that I had, during which I only nodded in affirmation or disagreement, depending on which was warranted. Eventually, he closed the connection, and that was the last I had heard from him. That was somewhere around eight months ago. It was probably better that I had been selected as control, as Cyrus liked that sort of rigor in his life. I, in contrast, didn’t like to keep defined schedules for anything. He was also easier to talk to: although he wasn’t particularly outgoing, he made an effort to hold socially acceptable conversation with other people, something I decided was both futile and deenergizing and as such avoided it at all possible costs. Talking to the scientists was something he liked to do, and I was fine to let him do that until  he died. Even though he was like that, he was very much an independent person, and was perfectly capable of handling himself within the confines of the of the satellite.

   Tangent’s two component satellites were SINE and CoSINE, which were differentiated only in that one had a room to exercise in. The “SINE” part of the name stood for “Space INhabitance Experiment,” and the “Co” part of the one which I inhabited simply stood for “control.” Once company and country codes had been added to produce the abbreviated full name, it became the US-CAS CoSINE, a name which rolled off the tongue much more easily than might be expected.

   SINE and CoSINE were remarkably well prepared, considering that they were the first physical creations by CAS outside of small subunit prototypes. There were three rooms shared by both satellites: a living room, an office room, and a bathroom. SINE was also equipped with a variety of exercise equipment in a fourth room that was situated behind the bathroom. All rooms were laid out end-to-end in the satellite, such that the living room was in the center and the office and bathroom on either side. The furnishings in each room were bare when we were first launched into orbit, but CAS wasn’t against sending us some smaller things that could be launched up with the other provisions.

[Salsacookies]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I have been in this box for who knows how long.

Lord knows time means nothing here. I bet you bottom dollar on my millions that's why they didn't put any clocks here, in my gilded cage. You see, they treat me nice, give me, designated V.I.P.O.W, all a millionaire businessman everything he would want, except for freedom... or human company. I mean, give me the coolest toys and highest class meals, but a silicone robot can only fulfill so much, before I get REALLY lonely. Yep, that's me, V.I.P.O.W, Very Important Prisoner of War. Has a ring to it, don't you think?.
     Last time I was free, I was CEO of Megacorps, running my business efficiently and well in front, and working hard for money well earned. Next thing I know, bang. every window blew out, and my ears were deafened to the chaos below me. Security poured into my room, and into the panic room I was escorted, hidden seamlessly in the wall, and well contained in six inches of Titanium, with one of my guards following, to be sure I'm nice and safe.
    While in there, I had time to calm down and pick out the glass out of my back. Damn, Just got my suit new too. I also noticed the liquid trickling down my ears, which was blood, of course. I know where I'm going when all's done.
   Well, I thought I knew, before the reinforced door before be got blown inward. My ears are already shot, so I didn't hear a thing, but yeah, metal shards are hot. One shot, and my guard is dead on the spot, and then, a black bag goes over my head, and I'm being pushed along to who knows where, which ends up being here, in this box, where I am now.
      Being a V.I.P.O.W sounds great, don't you think? Yep, just me, myself, and my "companion bot". I mean, who would of thought that robots are boring? Could've fooled me, but I don't know. I know that if I stay in this box for one more day, Mrs. Companion will be going under a little surgery.