DKC Atlas Forum

[gamer_boy997]

This is the thread where we post our stories/novels. Make sure you include the title, genre, date/dates it was written on, and the author, (which will most of the time be yourself), of course, if there's information you're not sure about, then you don't have to post it.

Last night, (February 1st), I wrote a short story, only a few paragraphs long, that I call, "The Box and Sound", I'm pretty proud of it, and I hope you guys are too! It's a Realistic Fiction with a sprinkle of Comedy, but the Comedy isn't really major.

Spoiler!

The Box and the Sound
By Gamer_boy997
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Copyright: February 1st, 2009
Once upon a time, there was a boy named Bob B. Bob. He had two brothers both named Bob, and his dad’s name was Bob, but his mom’s name isn’t Bob, of course.
Bob B. Bob really liked music, and always dreamed of being in a band called, “The Bobs”, and he always made his own instruments, each called “bob”. Every month he made a new one, but this month he decided to change something really bleak into something really fantastic. He thought, “What’s dull, what’s dull?” He thought of everything, cups, bottles, plates. He went down the latter, until it struck him. “A box!” he thought, “I’ll transform a box to a bob!”
He took a box, and started the transformation. He spraypainted each side a different color, and scattered stickers all over the box.
When it was finished, he hit each side of the box with his hands, then he closed his hand into a fist and tried it, and out came a different sound.
“Hey Bob, Bob, Dad, Mom, you have to see this!” The family ran to Bob, he explained his new instrument, each family member tried it out, and they all thought it was a special instrument. Every person of the family, including Bob B. Bob, thought there was something different about this “bob”, something that made this one more “unique” than all of the other “bobs”.
The End

[Raccoon Sam]

I dunno if this qualifies, but I've got some creepypasta written down from some months ago.
All of the stories below written by Anonymous.

Spoiler!

I’ve always had a terrible fear of being submerged completely in water. Not that I can’t swim or anything. My dad made me learn; he said I almost drowned when I was really young.
I was afraid of it because, for as long as I can remember, whenever I am under water and look up at the surface I see a woman reaching down to me with a warm smile, with glowing golden hair and dark blue eyes. Even if its just in a bathtub. It always happened, it was just normal for me, but i never got used to it.
It was unnerving, but also soothing at the same time. She always made me feel like it was okay. I still avoided it, though, because I was just a kid and it was really freaky.
I never told my dad about it as a kid, but I did ask him about my mom. He never wanted to talk about her. Sometimes he even got mad at me for trying too hard to bring it up.
It was only recently that I described this apparition to him. He nearly drove into a telephone pole; obviously he knew something. I asked him, again, about my mom. He still would say much, except that she died when I was very young, and that she loved me very much. He also admitted that her hair and eyes were those colors, just like mine.
So I did some research on my own, looking up her name for myself on my birth certificate and trying to find any references I could, any news clips about a boy nearly drowning, any thing. I mostly wanted a picture, something I could match to my guardian angel.
Today, buried in our town library, I found it.
WINCHESTER: Marie Withie, 28, drowned to death yesterday evening after climbing a razerwire fence and fleeing to a nearby resevoir. A funeral is scheduled by her family for the 25th. Marie was institutionalized just six months ago, after being found “not guilty” of attempted murder on grounds of insanity. Her husband Daniel Withie had acted quickly enough to rescue their infant child when she was found trying to drown him in a bathtub.

Spoiler!

"Daddy, I had a bad dream."
You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23.
-Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?
"No, Daddy."
The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room.
-Why not sweetie?
"Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up."
For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

Hope you felt a sting.

[Rodent]

Spoiler!

It was 13 years to this day that my wild journey began. It was the day that changed my life forever. It started on a Wednesday. As I slumped out of bed I thought to myself, “Oh no, it’s hump day!” What a hump today would bring!

I struggled to make my way into the kitchen only to discover I had no oranges. No oranges? There goes my source of vitamin C for the day. Wanting to avoid catching scurvy from the sailors next door, I decided to go for a walk to the local store to pick up an orange.

The trip from my house to the store involves a short walk to the Big Bad Woods, then a perilous journey through them that involves fighting off several groups of vicious marauders. After battling away the fierce tribes, you can then make your way through the end of the forest, which leaves the store a skip and hop away.

I grabbed my hat, my coat and my crudely made weapon that consisted of some nails and barbed wire wrapped around a stick. It was a family heirloom. Readily prepared, I stepped outside, braced myself against the weather (today it was windy and rainy) and set off on my way. As it normally goes when I run out of oranges, I passed the old, strange man who lived up the road from me, Doctor Fleckenstein, on the way to the Big Bad Woods.

“Good morning, Mat!” I heard him call out to me.

“Morning, Doctor,” I called back to him. The Doctor ran over to me in the excited manner that he does when he has big news. I was eager to hear what he had done; maybe he invented a machine that turns dirt into sugar? I could use one of those.

“Mat, guess what?” he burst out to me. This was the big one.

“What is it, Doctor? Did you cure polio? Did you plant an orange tree? Did you invent something really, REALLY cool and useful, something that everyone will want and that will, without a doubt, find its way into millions of homes across the world?”

“Even better, but you’ll have to come with me”, he said slyly.

Remembering my Stranger Danger, I told him, “No thanks, I need an orange. I can feel myself getting weaker every second I hesitate to get one.”

And with that, I left the old man behind and entered the Big Bad Woods.

As I strolled through as quickly as I could, the air felt different around me. Something wasn’t right in the woods today, and I wasn’t keen to find out what. I picked up the pace to a jog, and made my way through unharmed… or so it would seem.




It turns out the Doctor wasn’t impressed with me blowing him off like that. Trying to foil my plot of buying an orange for my daily supply of vitamin C, he raced to the store through his series of perilous underground tunnels to the store, ready to unleash his potent bio-weapon that would destroy all the oranges in the store. It became a race against time for my orange.

Through the forest, I received a phone call from my next door neighbour, Mrs Smith. She told me that the Doctor was trying to stop me from getting an orange and that I had to get to the store as quickly as I could, to save myself from scurvy.

I picked up the pace, running for my life. I didn’t stop for anything that was in my way. I raced out of the woods and into the town, but the Doctor was too quick for me. Towering above the store, lightning flashed in the background. He cackled and roared, holding his vile orange gun in his hands.

“You ignored me before, and now you will pay!” he bellowed across the town.

Many people stopped their shopping to bear witness to the carnage that was about to unfold. The Doctor leapt from the roof and into the store, and I gave pursuit after him; how many thousands of people would perish if he destroyed the bag of oranges in the store?

Luckily, the Doctor took a wrong turn in the supermarket and wound up in the home cleaning aisle. I dashed for the fruit and vegetable section, ready to grab my orange and run. The Doctor, realising his mistake, waited for me at the checkout. Victory seemed to be in his grasp.

I lined up, ready to pay for my orange and to fulfil my destiny. The price of the orange came to 67 cents, but I gave the cashier 70 cents so I could get out of there as quick as I can. The Doctor, with his old eyes failing him, didn’t notice me slip past him and back into the forest. No one saw him after that; some people say he was stricken with grief and donated himself to science.

When I got home, I took time to reflect on what happened. It was probably mean to walk away from The Doctor like that, but it was meaner for him to try killing me for buying an orange. I would continue getting my daily orange, no matter what danger there was in store for me.

Since making the resolution to myself that I would eat an orange every morning, I’ve achieved great things in my life. In 2004, I went to the Athens Olympics and won eighteen gold medals across various competitions; it was a new personal best. In 2005, I built a shelter for the homeless using my own bare hands and raw strength, and in 2006, I planted a series of orange trees around town so everyone could enjoy them.

I can’t imagine doing any of this if I didn’t eat my orange every morning. I guess I owe all of my life’s successes to the promise to eat an orange every day.

[SmudgeKWOOD]

My cousin has 12 novels, my friend has 1 novel, and I have one short story and 4 novels. Check back later

[Gnawzooka]

I'm currently making a comic. Does that count?

[Tiptup Jr.]

Talk about bumping, but . . . I just wrote this. I do believe it qualifies as a short story.

[SimianSegue]

EXTREME BUMPING..........but I got a story for y'all
(P.S.: I wrote this for my Fast Paced Language Arts class...just thought I'd let you guys know.)

Spoiler!

Short Story
Once upon a time, in the merry old land of England, there was a young boy named Claus. Claus was a good boy, always doing what he was told, eating his vegetables, doing his chores. So, as a reward for his good behavior, his sweet parents got him a German shepherd. “Oh Mummy!” chirped Claus! “I am ever so happy!” Claus’s parents lectured him that a pet was a great responsibility. Claus, too excited to listen, went to go play with his new dog in the forest. While out in the forest, his dog sniffed out an odd object, stuck to a tree. Claus went to investigate, but: “Dinner!” called Claus’s mother. Claus called his new dog, which he had named Philippe, and raced home. After dinner, Claus climbed into his bed with his brand new pooch. During the night, Claus heard an odd noise from the kitchen. Claus just slumped back into slumber land. *Yawn!* Claus sprang out of bed and raced outside with his puppy. But, while he was outside playing with his precious pooch, he missed his chores! He also didn’t do his homework! Just imagine that! Sweet little Claus! Disobeying! This continued on for quite some time, until he would go away with his dog for days at a time! His parents knew not why he did this, but to make sure that he was there, every night he came home they would look into his room to see him waving happily. One night though, when they looked in his room, they were surprised to see the boy sitting there and-*Gasp*- doing his homework! His parents were so relieved! But, the second they left the room, Philippe sprang up to onto two feet and barked (no pun intended) at Claus. “What is wrong with you?” screamed Philippe! “I’m sorry master! I’ll never do it again!” squeaked the frightened Claus. “It takes the time away from us!” “I know! Just don’t release him! Oh no! Don’t do it! OH NOOO!”
After hearing these horrible noises, his parents sprang up and sprinted into his room. What they saw was so terrifying, that they literally screamed to death.
Short Story No. 2
Once, there was a happy couple, by the names of Mr. and Mrs. Wolfgang. They lived their lives, happily and carelessly, in the state of glamorous New York when suddenly, Mrs. Wolfgang became pregnant. “Oh joyous day! I’m going to be a father!” crooned Mr. Wolfgang joyously. This state of celestial joy lasted for about 9 months. Then, the baby came. “Oh my! He is so beautiful in every way!” stated the doting father. “Yes, he is my little angel! I love him more than god loves this fine green earth.” The elated couple decided to name him Maximilian Koenig Wolfgang. After the babe’s glorious birth, Mrs. Wolfgang said she wanted to go out to dinner at the best restaurant in the city. “Oh, but are you sure you are in a good condition to go out on the town, having just gave birth?” queried the questionable Mr. Wolfgang, with a quizzical look on his face. “Yes, darling, I’ll be fine. Let’s go off!” They put the baby in the care of Ms. Abigail Brown, a famous caretaker of children age two to five, and they darted off, as fast as a bullet! They had a great time, drank the best champagnes, met New York’s finest, and had a delectable dinner before fleeing of to their beautiful new apartment passionately embracing all the way. When they got to their humble apartment, they realized that Ms. Brown had forgotten to unlock the door! The confused couple had no idea what to do! So, they just stood there, passionately kissing, until Mr. Wolfgang had an idea! He would break the glass of the window, and creep inside! What a brilliant idea! But, after breaking the window and putting his wife halfway into the smashed window, the police appeared. “Hey! What’s going on here! Put your hands up!” Mr. Wolfgang was about to put his hands up when he realized that if he did his wife would be left teetering on the window. This would be a very uncomfortable position for a lady, and being a gentleman, Mr. Wolfgang knew that. So, he continued to slide her in to the window, and the police yelled: “Open fire! Breaking and entering on 34th street! I repeat: Open fire! Breaking and entering on 34th street!” the guns rattled off round after round after round at the poor couple, who were left dead at the scene of the “crime”. This meant that poor Maximilian Koenig Wolfgang was already an orphan, less than a day old. Soon, of course, discussion in the family erupted. “Who’s going to take care of the poor babe?” “Oh what shall we do?” “I’ll take care of the little tot!” Everyone turned around to see old Ms. Marie Boehm, the sixty-five year old mother of Mr. Wolfgang. She picked up the baby and scurried off, to raise him as her own.

[Update]Here is a poem I wrote for Social Studies:

Spoiler!

Slavery is…
Slavery looks like a mass of tortured souls, work never-ending, promised their freedom, but ultimately denied.
Slavery sounds like the prayers of the workers, pleading for freedom from God, spirituals coming from their loud booming voices, quivering with tears from the pain.
Slavery feels like the tough caress of hard wood against their tired, cracked hands, and the coarse feeling of raw cotton against their hands.
Slavery tastes like unrefined food, a tomato from the garden, fresh, but not filling enough.
Slavery smells like fresh crops, mixed with the smell of foot rot and fresh soil dug up while working.
Slavery is wrong, slavery is torture, slavery is depressing, slavery is unlawful, and slavery is evil.