Power Pros Forum

hehehe, very clever, Holden!

Also, here's a poem for you all. It wasn't written by me, but I quite enjoyed it.

Into the streets, festered and rot,
Where rats were swarm to feast or not.
The heavy stone were dangle and hang,
That littered with souls for rats to sprang.
Slithering shadow, its maiden of death,
With a puff of mask that leave each breath.
Stain and calling, the presented plague,
For eyes were red and tears be vague.

"Daisuke Wada's Story"...Original story by me. See if you can find what the story is referencing to!

~Prologue~

Daisuke Wada woke up in the morning at his apartment in Tokyo. He climbed out of bed and put on his baseball uniform to go to practice. Wada was a renowned pitcher in college, he had decent control and stamina and threw almost 127 km/h (80 mph) with a good shuuto. He went downstairs and made himself a bowl of Ichir-O's, and a glass of milk. He went downstairs and got in his car to drive to practice. In the car he turned on a local hip-hop station and they were playing his favorite song, "Luv(sic.), part 3" by Nujabes. After the song ended Daisuke was quite close to the school's practice facilities, and he only heard the beginning of some song by Uzi, but he couldn't quite tell which one. He pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car, a 2007 Toyota Corolla. He went around to the trunk and got out his glove and bat. "I'm here," he announced as he walked up to the practice field. "We're doing something inside today," said the coach, Hideki Masahara. The two of them went inside, and Daisuke was astonished by what he saw, a maze of rooms! "Where do I start?" he asked Coach Masahara. "Over here," Coach said as he pointed to a particular room. "This iPad comes with an interactive map, showing you what is in each room." Daisuke took the iPad and was off on his quest for the end.

~Stage One~

Daisuke walked into the first room and found nothing. He tried to go to his left but there was a wall there. He walked forward into the next room, in which he practiced his control for a little while. The next room held nothing, but the room above it was labeled with a purple question mark on his map. He walked into it and suddenly felt quite tired. "Huh…where's the goal?" he asked himself as he looked down at the iPad. "3 spaces up, 1 space left. Okay." He walked straight into the next room, where he was told to do some distance running. He did so, and felt even more tired. The next room had a picture of Japanese fireballer Ichiro Ohno, which inspired him to throw harder. The next room met him with a large pile of nothing, and he went left and was in the "goal" room. "You've reached the goal, do you want to stop now or continue?" asked Coach. "I'll stop here," Daisuke responded. Daisuke exited the room and was quickly sent over to yet another maze, with similar configuration, but everything in a different location.

~Stage Two~

Daisuke started in another empty room. He walked to the right and did some more distance running. He walked ahead two spaces, which both made him do more distance running. "This is a lot of running," he remarked. He walked to his left, which held nothing. Daisuke looked at the map and saw that he could go straight ahead into the goal or around the long way which held several good things. He decided to go the long way and walked to his right two spaces, where he started throwing through targets to improve his accuracy. He went to his left and found a book that taught him how to throw a curveball. He read it and felt like he knew how to throw it, so he tried it out with a ball and it worked well. The next room ahead was the goal where he decided to stop once again. He was led into yet another maze.

~Stage Three~

A message popped up on Daisuke's iPad. It said something about treasure. He walked into the first room, which as usual held nothing. The next room ahead prompted him to work on his accuracy again. He walked ahead again, and this room had a treasure box in it! "What the…?" he asked as he opened the treasure box to reveal…a piece of paper with something written on it. He read it, it said, "To improve your stamina, you should run a lot, but you should also stop for a few minutes every day and focus on pitching longer in games, if you think about it enough you will be able to do it. -Ichiro Ohno" "Wow…that was good advice," Daisuke remarked. He went forward another space and met a player, known as "MICHEAL". "Hey, you ran into me," MICHEAL said. "Sorry, I'm just trying to get through this strange maze thing. "I guess you play baseball?" "Sure do, my name is Daisuke Chen and I'm a pitcher." "Well, I've got to hurry along, but here's some advice: If you want to throw harder, you just have to bring your glove hand to your ribs, it will help a ton." "Thanks!" Daisuke said as he continued on. His next move was to the right, which made him a little tired again. "I guess I should find out where the goal is," Daisuke said. He looked at the iPad and saw that the goal was two spaces away, first he had to pass a space marked with some sort of dark blue icon and an arrow pointing straight down. He walked into that room and found another book, this time it taught him to throw a forkball. He walked ahead again and decided to keep going. Daisuke walked to his left but felt even more tired. He walked to his right and ran a little more, into the next space where he met some girl named Karin who was mad at him! She punched him, but he blocked the punch and she ran away. "I guess I should head back to the goal," Daisuke said, and he did so. He was given the option to keep going or quit, and he decided to keep going.

~Stage Four~

Daisuke entered in a space towards the middle of the board. He went to his left, and learned how to throw a little harder, then started the other way towards the goal. The first space to the right of where he had started did nothing, and the next was a strange room. He was blindfolded and he could hear people coming in and moving stuff around. "What's going on?" he asked. "We're moving stuff around. The changes should show up on your map." Daisuke decided that was okay and soon the blindfold was removed. He moved again towards the goal, to his left, and the room held another treasure box! This time, the paper said "To have more accuracy you must focus on throwing the ball, not aiming it. -Ryan Techer" "Ryan Techer, doesn't he play for the Kyoto Knights or something like that?" Daisuke moved on ahead to an empty room, then finally the goal. This time he decided he would just call it a day.

Daisuke Wada's Final Stats:

TOP SPEED 127 KM/H --> 135 KM/H
CONTROL F 33 --> E 47
STAMINA G 24 --> E 42
SHUUTO 1 --> SHUUTO 1
__ --> CURVEBALL 2
__ --> FORKBALL 1

I would take a guess and say that that's based off of the board game success mode. Mighty fine, it is.

Also, dat Knights allusion.

Nice Techer reference there, mate.

whoahohohoho, what's this?

I present to you a short story by Ernest Hemmingway, I hope you enjoy :}

“For sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.”

I've got one.

There once was an ugly barnacle

He was so ugly

That everyone died

THE END

Great story!!

Oh my god, I'm dying looking at these subject lines.





In other news, I might post something here soon, cuz I gave a challenge to a few writer friends and I to write a short story with a certain prompt in mind, as an exercise... I just have to figure out what kind of piece I'll write involving someone who's mute (and not a mime).

Heh, you know what, some of this bots posts actually kinda sorta fit this topic.

Those last few points are truly poetic. Best short story I've ever read ever.

One of my favorite Arctic Monkeys songs is The Bad Thing, and since the band effectively despises it, there's no music video for it (even though it would be great for one since it actually tells a coherent story). So, in lieu of being able to actually create what pops into my head whenever I listen to this song, I wrote it instead (shout-out to Tweav for helping out). You'll notice some lines that are taken directly from the song. Fair warning, it's a bit short and very rough, but screw revising, I'm not being graded on this.

So, I present to you, The Bad Thing.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

A bar in the lobby of a 5-star hotel in downtown London. A whirlwind of a night, patrons move in and out at a blur, replaced continuously by a new stream of customers. A bartender quickly moves back and forth between them, quickly serving drinks all across the room.

Seated on a stool near the front of it all, a man. His average brown hair messy, his business suit wrinkled and worn, he rubs his eyes as he sips from a half-empty bottle.

Sitting on the adjacent stool, a woman. Adorned in an elegant but provocative red dress, engrossed in conversation with her weary-eyed neighbor, she crosses her legs and leans forward, whispering into his ear.

The man rubs the nape of his neck, processing this new information. He looks at his conversational partner, fear in his eyes.

“He’s not the jealous type.”

Hardly relaxed by this statement, the man rubs his neck once again. She flashes a smile and his body loosens.

She uncrosses her legs again and once again whispers to him. He nods slowly, and she grabs her right hand.

“Even with...?”

“I don’t mind.”

The woman, still smiling, grabs the man by the wrist and yanks him from his seat, leading him out of the bar and into the hall.

The man hazily begins to feel excitement mount as he is led through the hall and up the stairs. As they walk, the woman routinely looks back to smile, him returning it every time.

As the couple rapidly approaches their destination, a cell phone rings. She reaches into her pocket and hesitates, checking the caller ID.

“It’s... him.”

The man, now confronted with the harsh reality that there was something to destroy, begins to reconsider. Before his sluggish mind can reach any sort of conclusion, she speaks again.

“Are we... are we really doing this?”

The man can see the red wine’s effects on his partner, and knows the effects of his own drinks on him. That’s no excuse, he thinks. But, the rational part of him left long ago, and that thought is suppressed. He nods; she smiles and leads him inside, closing the door tightly behind them.

Thanks for the shoutout :}

I still feel like it's well done after sleep, so das gud

Awesome sauce D-Tigers.

Pulled from http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1lgp8u/ff_so_come_here_often/cbz5mpn

"So, come here often?"

Don stared hard at the man holding the rope. His face was still, and his eyes were even in the Alabama sun.

"I take it you're trying to have some fun with me," said Don.

The man's face remained impassive, but a smile erupted after a moment.

"Aw, hell. If you can't have a bit of levity here, where can you, is what I say." The man took the rope in his burly hands, and fastened it around Don's neck.

"That's a good point, but I'm not really in the mood for levity at this moment."

"Pardon my saying so, but you're not gonna have many other moments," said the man with the rope, as he tightened the knot.

Don's breath caught momentarily. "That is true. I can't say that I had considered that."

"You ever think much about getting hanged?"

"I don't think about it so often."

"See, that's why I make the jokes. It helps." The man with the rope fastened one end onto the crossbar, and got off the ladder.

"You got a good joke for me now?" Don's eyes were wet.

"I got a joke for you." The man placed his hands on the lever. "Why can't you hang a deaf man in Georgia?"

"Why?"

"It's illegal to hang a man without a proper hearing."

Don chuckled. "You been sitting on that one for a while?"

The man nodded. "No one ever wants to hear the joke."

"They're missing out." Don closed his eyes. "It was quite funny."

"That means a lot to me, sir." The man with his hand on the lever smiled, and pulled.

Reading the comments in the thread, some pretty good puns. and I enjoy puns.