Our new Indie Games subforum is now open for business in G&T. Go and check it out, you might land a code for a free game. If you're developing an indie game and want to post about it, follow these directions. If you don't, he'll break your legs! Hahaha! Seriously though.
Our rules have been updated and given their own forum. Go and look at them! They are nice, and there may be new ones that you didn't know about! Hooray for rules! Hooray for The System! Hooray for Conforming!
I know I've submitted two works that I honestly haven't done anything with. I'm hoping this one (as it meens more to me) will be completed. I can't really tell you what it's about, but I dropped my omnitient narrative and picked up this third person deal in a sort of biographical way. I have to go eat dinner, so enjoy the read and feel free to criticize/critique.
Josephâ€™s tie fluttered in the wind. It had been raining for days with no end in sight but one. The whiskey bottle clenched loosely in his fist went first, scouting out the blackness below. With a final step, Joseph followed. A days worth of stubble, a mess of black hair and a designer suit sunk quickly into the riverâ€™s churning waters.
This is the story of a man. A man who never took much, who never gave much, but who wanted it all. Up until recently he was a friend of mine. They combed that river for days without a trace. Joseph always told me he wasnâ€™t made to last, so when nothing came up I figured he had just dissolved.
The good stuff comes when he hits puberty. Apart from the fact he canâ€™t carry a tune anymore, Joseph is changing. His mind begins to explode with possibilities and impossibilities. He becomes a bit awkward, and a lot angry, but it gives him a lot of time to observe. For now, everything is wonderful; out in the open. Peopleâ€™s motives are clearer and their reactions are suddenly predictable.
Most everyone he meets is an open book for him to read. Joseph once told me his later problems came when he realized the only one he didnâ€™t know was himself. He never said at the time, but in grade seven Joseph found himself deep in the throes of a crush. The girlâ€™s name was Fara, a cut little brunette in Josephâ€™s homeroom.
About the same time, Josephâ€™s love of writing from his childhood re-emerged. He would share his illustrated yarns with Fara and she would laugh politely. As she would date, he would write and as he gazed at their class picture longingly, he wished for the day sheâ€™d fall into his arms.
He always blamed such romanticism on his years of reading, but we all know it was a part of him. As the junior high years passed, the battle between Josephâ€™s hormones and his intellect was still raging. He calculated the odds of Fara saying yes to approximately thirty-eight percent, but in him was the hope that she would most assuredly requite his feelings.