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About Literature / Hobbyist D.J.D.Male/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
PokeStory
Prologue: "Pokemon Fever(dream)"
The void is darkness and light. The void is life and death. The void is everything and nothing.
And then the void becomes a single presence, reaching out… I am aware, and the presence knows me.
The presence is an old man. An old man, who is… sleeping?
He awakens with a start, and asks what time it is.
“It’s 4 in the morning,” I reply, somehow knowing this was right.
Memories flood my consciousness, feelings of a life, an identity. Suddenly I can see, the world in front of me, the darkened room we stand in, the old man before me.
Our eyes meet.
“Are you a boy, or a girl?” the old man asks me.
I was a little surprised by the question. It’s not something I’m asked a lot.
“Hey man,” I said, “Maybe questions like that were okay in 2001, but this is a different time, and you can’t just go around labeling everyone like that.”
The old man is breathing heavily, a look of m
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Literature
What I Want
"What do I want?" I plead into the void, as though I could receive an answer.
The void is silent, cold. All truth and all of nothing lie within it's depths; here I stand before it, a mere speck in space and time. What is my purpose? What is my meaning?
"What do I want?" I ask again.
The void is calm, knowing. I know what I want, I'm just afraid to admit it. What I'm really asking for is to be told what I want- to free myself of the burden of choice.
Images flood my mind as I fall to my knees, the memories of a life yet to be lived; children playing, their laughter echoing through the annals of my consciousness, a simple home with a well-trimmed lawn, friends gathered together under the shade of a nearby tree, talking and enjoying the warm weather. A woman, standing by me...
"Tell me what I want..." I whisper, more to myself this time than to the ever-present darkness.
Her name makes me tremble, the sound of it familiar, yet unheard. Every curve, every line of her form is etched
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Literature
Bad Dreams and Psycho-Babble
Deep in sleep, I ponder life's greatest questions. My dreams are functional, not aesthetic, and I stand before a chalkboard in an endless, white expanse within the confines of my semi-conscious mind. One arm rests across my chest while the other scratches my stubble in thought, my eyes locked on the board in front of me.
I've been staring at the equations and drawings, meticulously calculated and drawn with great care upon the chalkboard, for several hours now. I have yet to come up with anything useful, and am growing impatient. A slow, long sigh escapes my throat as my arms fall to my sides, and I shake my head in impatience.
"I think I need a second opinion." I say out loud to no one in particular, as there is no one in the expanse but me.
As if in response to my rhetorical statement, I find I am now accompanied by several copies of myself, who have appeared seemingly out of thin air. They are gathered near me, each pondering what is written on the chalkboard. One of the copies look
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Literature
The Man with no First Name
Due to the lazy attitude of the author, the boy was born into the fictional world with no first name. His parents never knew what to make of it, and would refer to him as whatever random name would strike their fancy at the time. Children would make fun of him when he was old enough to attend school, children with names like "Billy" or "Jack" or "Thomas", which weren't particularly original names, but nonetheless better than not having one at all.
The boy without a first name envied those children. Eventually, out of this envy grew jealousy, and this in turn became a seething hatred. As he grew into his teens, he rebelled against society as most teens do, but in a different way; by misnaming. Walking down streets, he would refer to them as alleys. Cats were dogs, boys were girls, up was down, opposites were setisoppo. Names, and by extension words, became meaningless.
Eventually the boy grew into a man, leaving his parents' home and going forth into the cold, named world. He worked at
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Literature
Research and Development, 1
Research and Development: Power to the Masses! (part one)
By Daniel J. Durand
Heavy footsteps could be heard from either end of the long hallway. Rooms to the left and right, each filled with technological delight, awaited inspection by the man with the clipboard, his long white lab coat billowing out behind his tall frame as he patrolled. Face buried in his work, he made notes with each step.
He was disappointed, and a bit impatient. The chief inspector at an energy research laboratory, his job was to go over prospective breakthroughs and decide which ones might land a profit. Unfortunately, the lab was in a creative drought. The inspector had just finished the last room in the Solar Energy department, where technicians were working on the finishing touches for a solar-powered flashlight. It wasn't showing a lot of promise.
Just as the inspector was finishing up his notes, he came to a double-door at the end of the hall. Above the door in large letters, was a sign that read "Experimen
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Literature
Bob's Tattoo and Grocery
Graveyard shift sucks. That's it, it sucks, no two ways about it, no making lemonade from those lemons, graveyard shift is a soul-sucking, mind-sapping experience that only the rare person who gets off on misery can enjoy. Naturally, it was the only type of work I could find for my summer vacation.
The local grocery store, Bob's Discount Tattoo and Grocery, had decided to start offering twenty-four hour service to the strange folk who need to buy a gallon of milk or a carton of cigarettes at 3 o'clock in the morning. They needed brave young men and women to man the front lines of the night shift, and, needing a reason to get out of the house during the summer, I applied and was fortunate enough to be hired. It didn't take me long to realize that work sucks almost as bad as being unemployed.
You see, for the earlier part of the evening, we have a few people here and there who come in for the aforementioned odd item, people who for whatever reason just couldn't wait until daylight to pur
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From the Bottom of my Glass by darknezz111 From the Bottom of my Glass :icondarknezz111:darknezz111 0 1 String Theory by darknezz111 String Theory :icondarknezz111:darknezz111 1 0 Wormhole by darknezz111 Wormhole :icondarknezz111:darknezz111 0 0
Literature
Born Out of Boredom
CHAPTER 1, or, THE CHAPTER BEFORE CHAPTER TWO...
The only page in a ninth grade history textbook, circa 2042:
Never, ever, under any circumstances, should the big red button be pushed. It never ends well, and generally leads to undesirable side effects such as plague, famine, and an irritating ringing noise. Doubly un-advisable would be to press the big red button a second time, but most people avoid a first offense simply because the big red button is labeled, "Do not push." Most people have their curiosity abated by the non-threatening font the label is printed in, and continue on with their lives. The ones who aren't phased by polite warnings are usually obliterated by the unforgiving force of a thousand suns, delivered by a couple of automated laser cannons designed to politely put an end to needless button pushing.
Once upon a time, it was discovered by the people of the world that all of humanities problems originated from said big red button, and so the governments of the world,
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Literature
Afloat
Afloat
Darknezz111
Two men sat in a boat, leisurely floating at sea. Seagulls flew overhead, their shadows cast down onto the water below. One of the men, staring up at the sky, saw the birds and wondered where they were going. Resting an elbow on the side of the boat, he looked to the man sitting opposite of him.
"Where do you suppose they're going?" he asked.
"Who?" inquired the second man, who had been picking at a splinter of wood. He hadn't noticed the seagulls.
"The seagulls. Where do you think they're going?"
"How should I know?" snapped the second man, furiously picking at the splinter. He was intent on his work, being careful not to snap the bit of wood, having managed to turn what was at first an insignificant chip in the wall of the boat to a majestic, three-and-a-half inch strip. He, who was known as Alex, had no time for questions, not when his life's work was so near to completion.
"Fine! Forget I asked!" said the first man, upset at being so quickly brushed aside. He was
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Literature
A Story of True Happening
A Story of True Happening
Darknezz111
It had been a fairly normal morning. I had woken up, taken a shower, got dressed- the usual morning routine. Or so I had thought, at the time. But there was one fatal flaw... I had forgotten to eat my Wheaties. This one, seemingly unimportant morning ritual, in itself not exactly enough to alter the course of history, could only mean a bad day ahead.
I left the house and began my walk to work. I only live a few blocks away, and rather than pay for the fuel, I chose to lessen my dependency on work-sponsored gym memberships. Cars passed by me, some drivers talking on phones, others singing with the radio, all oblivious to the world beyond the metal skins of their vehicles. Who could blame them? We all get into our routines, we all forget the world at times, become entrenched in the day-to-day so far that it masks who we really are for those minutes between points A and B.
Left foot, right foot, left foot. Soon enough, I was standing outside the offic
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Literature
Legendary Tale
Darknezz111
"The Legendary Adventure of the Hero's Grand Adventure, and Some Cheese"
It was a dark and stormy night. The seas were choppy and dangerous. Lightning arced down from the heavens, and even the bravest of the town's citizens ran in terror of what appeared to be the wrath of the gods unleashed onto the world. The earth split into great fissures, which ran along the ground like lines across paper. As barbarians ran unchecked across the land, pillaging the small island village, the air began to grow thick with the stench of smoke and flame. To those who were left alive to witness it, this night was their apocalypse.
Luckily, our story takes place miles away from that island village, on the other, more peaceful, happier, and somewhat more complacent side of the world. It was a bright and sunny day, and our hero was walking merrily along the sidewalk, whistling a merry tune. Unbeknownst to him, but beknownst to us, today would turn out to be the most exciting day of his life.
Our
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Literature
A Western Story
A Western Story!
Daniel J. Durand
The West: land of cattle, saloons, and stylish hats. A vast portion of the United States, ranging from the Mississippi River to the Pacific Ocean, where men seek fortunes and prosperity through the sweat off their backs and the callus on their hands, fighting off bandits and the occasional Indian attack. The cowboys were singing and the sun was hot as the stranger walked into town.
Why was he walking? He didn't believe in horses. Horses were a myth; a horse with a horn on it's head, now that, to most people, was a myth, but lose the horn and everyone accepts the possibility of a four-legged animal that whinnies and bucks unskilled riders. No, horses were just hump-less camels to the stranger. And he didn't like camels; they spit a lot. So he walked into town.
As he walked, the stranger took in his surroundings, taking careful mental notes on where things were placed. There was the saloon, of course, which he could see a bit further down the main road,
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Activity


Prologue: "Pokemon Fever(dream)"

The void is darkness and light. The void is life and death. The void is everything and nothing.

And then the void becomes a single presence, reaching out… I am aware, and the presence knows me.

The presence is an old man. An old man, who is… sleeping?

He awakens with a start, and asks what time it is.

“It’s 4 in the morning,” I reply, somehow knowing this was right.

Memories flood my consciousness, feelings of a life, an identity. Suddenly I can see, the world in front of me, the darkened room we stand in, the old man before me.

Our eyes meet.

“Are you a boy, or a girl?” the old man asks me.

I was a little surprised by the question. It’s not something I’m asked a lot.

“Hey man,” I said, “Maybe questions like that were okay in 2001, but this is a different time, and you can’t just go around labeling everyone like that.”

The old man is breathing heavily, a look of madness in his eyes that betrays a sense of youthful wonder and alcoholism. Sweat gathers at his brow.

“I’m a boy,” I sigh.

The man perks up at this, as if a light were turned on in the darkest corner of his mind.

“I’m OAK, the POKEMON PROF!”

I don’t know why Oak yelled his name and occupation, but that was hardly the strangest thing about today, so I decided to roll with it.

“This world is inhabited by creatures that we call POKEMON,” Oak continued. “People and POKEMON live together by supporting each other.”

Okay, I thought, now the old man was starting to make some inroads. He still seemed nuts, but at least he knew his stuff—maybe ‘Pokemon Professor’ is a real thing, after all.

Oak said that people interact with Pokemon differently. Some people play, some people battle.

“Kind of like cock fighting, Professor?”

Oak ignored me.

“But we don’t know everything about POKEMON yet,” he continued, seemingly reciting a prepared speech. I began to wonder if he even remembered I was in the room—it was like he was staring right through me, past my body and into some unknown horizon.

“There are still many mysteries to solve. That’s why I study POKEMON every day.”

Suddenly, my vision blurred. When it cleared, I saw not the image of the professor, but of my own body, standing as though posed by some invisible force.

“Now,” asked Oak, “What did you say your name was?”

Was Oak somehow causing this out-of-body experience? Could I be in danger? How was this even possible?

My thoughts were broken by Oak screeching, his head turning from side to side, eyes wide open.

“CHRIS-MAT-ALLAN-JON-CHRIS-MAT-ALLAN-JON-CHRIS-MAT-ALLAN-JON”

Terrified, I said my name is Daniel. The screeching stopped.

“DANIEL, are you ready?” Oak asked me, his voice returning to a calm, even tone.

“Ready for what?” I asked. “What is this place? Who are you?”

“Your very own POKEMON story is about to unfold,” Oak replied.

There was a certain finality to the way he said it, almost as if I wouldn’t be coming
back. He said something about challenges and fun, but in my present state, it was hard to listen to all of it.

I froze, unable to move, as the image of my body began to shimmer, and shrink down into a smaller version of itself… somehow, I knew it was still me, but it lacked so much of the detail it once had, like a 2-D approximation. I tried to scream, but there was no air in my lungs, and no mouth to have pushed it through.

“I’ll be seeing you later!”
PokeStory
Had this idea while writing something for my website. I was replaying Pokemon Crystal and thought, "Hey, while I'm here, why not write about my own Pokemon adventure while I'm at it?" More chapters to come!

Check out my website! uninkable.com/
Support me on Patreon! www.patreon.com/user?u=3679572
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WOW has it been a long time. I want to start posting content here again, but I don't want to make any promises as to what and when. Just swung by to check on things, and to say that I started my own website with some friends! Check us out at uninkable.com!

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darknezz111's Profile Picture
darknezz111
D.J.D.
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
'Sup dawgs.

I like to write. Stories, jokes, articles, it's all good. I started on DA back in high school to mess around with short stories as a hobby. Since then, I've been to journalism school, started a website with some friends. Check us out at UnInkable.com!

Or, if you're into it, you can check out my irregularly updated blog, "The Once and Future Blog," at reallycatchyblogname.blogspot.com.

Support me on Patreon! www.patreon.com/user?u=3679572
Interests
Hello everyone,

I haven't been on this site in a long while. To be honest, I was about ready to give up on it, since I never log on. I've been trying to pitch submissions to different places on the internet, like Cracked.com, Every Day Fiction, and a few random short story websites. Unfortunately, I have been getting nothing but rejection letter after rejection letter, most of which are from people who completely miss the point of my writing. I'm not shy to admit I was pretty depressed about this. Briefly, the thought of giving up writing came to mind.

All of that went away today when I logged in on a whim and saw that "Bob's Tattoo and Grocery" had over 3000 views, a load of comments, and over 100 favorites.

I want to thank everyone who's commented on my work so far, and to tell you all that it means more than you can imagine that you genuinely enjoyed it. Your words of encouragement were exactly what I needed, and were one hell of a shot in the arm.

I'm back, and I'm better than ever. I'll be writing and posting more on a regular basis now, starting with "Bad Dreams and Psycho-Babble". It's about a dream I had about a year or two ago, and I hope you all enjoy it.

To all of you who said "Bob's Tattoo and Grocery" should be a series: yes, this was one idea when I wrote the story. I had sort of forgotten about it, but seeing as how so many of you liked it, that will be my next project. I hope it can stand up to the original!

Finally, for those of you who would like to see more of my work, I have some short stories and a handful of non-fiction works posted on my Hubpages profile. Please, take a look, and feel free to contact me with any suggestions or requests.

My profile page:
darknezz111.hubpages.com/

Some short stories:
darknezz111.hubpages.com/hub/D…
darknezz111.hubpages.com/hub/L…
darknezz111.hubpages.com/hub/Y…

Also, stop my my blog, The Once and Future Blog, at:
reallycatchyblogname.blogspot.…

I promise to try as hard as I can to produce more good content for you, the people who like my work, and for everyone else who wants to see it. I've wanted to be a writer all of my life, and while a sweetheart book deal is probably a long way off, for the first time I feel like I can actually work my way up to one.

Thanks, guys.
  • Listening to: Ambient noise
  • Reading: Comments
  • Watching: I am watching the Watchmen
  • Playing: God
  • Eating: Pizza
  • Drinking: Iced tea

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconpiercetmaydaywsirens:
Thanks for the favourite! :iconawwwplz:
Reply
:iconxlntwtch:
xlntwtch Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2011   Writer
:iconblinkthanksplz: for the :+fav: on "Caught in Battle" ... (:
Reply
:iconelohcin111:
elohcin111 Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Welcome to :iconwriters4life: :hug:
Reply
:icondesertsun:
desertsun Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2011
Heyyyy! :dance: :woohoo:
Thank you so much for the favs and for the deviantwatch!! :excited: :love: :huggle:
Reply
:icondarknezz111:
darknezz111 Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
No problem. I like your style.
Reply
:iconsolaris-ember:
Solaris-Ember Featured By Owner Feb 27, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Welcome to The Writer’s Meow! Feel free to start submitting your work. Before you do, be sure to read over the group rules [link] Please note... we only accept one deviation per deviant per week.
 
We hope you enjoy it here. Please let =Kira73, me, or one of our other moderators know if you have any questions.
 
Thanks!
KM

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:icondarqx:
Darqx Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2010  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanx for the add yo! :peace:
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:icondarknezz111:
darknezz111 Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
Yeah, no problem. Keep up the good work!
Reply
:iconnemi-212:
NEMi-212 Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2010
Thanks for the feedback and +watch! Much appreciated. :D
Reply
:icondarknezz111:
darknezz111 Featured By Owner Jan 29, 2010  Hobbyist Writer
Oh, yeah, no problem. I like your style. You don't write like most other people on here.
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