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Into the Void Pt. 1

Into the Void - Part I - Innocent Beginnings Foreword Years ago, I wrote a “short” story about a time traveller who travelled around time, firmly ignoring the most fundamental laws of Physics and generally making a mess, which he then has to clean up. I called the series the extremely infuriatingly long name of “The Mysterious Black Box”. I was 3 parts and 9000 words in when I stopped and did not continue further. Now, almost four years later, I set out again to finish it, this time giving it the more bearable name and one that’s hopefully more suitable for any time that’s not the 1800’s. As the first two parts and the unfinished third part were lost, I started again from Part 1, gradually remembering the plot and how bad I was at the time, as I wrote until my keyboard broke. Literally. And then I fixed it and wrote more ranting words from a madman. Here is Part I. The rest, when and if I do them, will be uploaded here after I finish if I do. Now, to the actual thing itself.  *** T...
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A Test for Dual Narration

     I was forced out of my nap, pulled through mushy delirium caused by withering pain to consciousness by a loud sputtering engine. There was a car, and it was heading straight for me, out of the roundabout, tyres screeching and rear smoking. I braced myself for the grinding pain that followed as the car passed on top of me. small chunks of loose cement was torn out of me, splashing on another part of me, where it rested on a pile helpfully labelled as “Spare Gravel! Buy a metric ton get another one free!”       It was only then that I noticed him. He seemed to be a tourist, touring me, as apparently I had “good scenery”. At least that’s what they told me when they threw my existence into this motorway. If I actually looked that good, I’m sure they’d repair me, but there’s nothing I could do about that. My attention wafted back to the tourist.       He was standing on me now, and he was strange for a tourists. There was irrational...
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Another Load of Description Also Known as My Room

 I twisted the door knob and entered my study. The repugnant smell of sweat and rotting apples slapped me in the face, reminding me to open the windows.  A bare light bulb provided light in the night - when even if it was on, two other lamps were thankfully relied on to provide illumination. The slightly warped wooden windows were dotted with green fungi on the outside, its edges cloudy and cobwebbed. Swinging it open, I unleashed a deafening whine from its rusting brass hinges.  A petite desk, at most 50 by 30 centimeters, sat in a corner, just by a door. Overwhelmed with stacks of laptops, masks and books, it shrouded its modernistic finish of glass, wood and dark metal. Hastily stuffed in its pigeon-holes were piles of bags and broken gadgets. A rarely used keychain, made of coarse plastic shaped in a honeycomb  with a name scratched on it by a 215-degree nozzle, held three keys, labelled “Random Cupboard 1”, “Random Cupboard 2”, and “Random Cupboard 3”.  ...
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Just a load of description.

I pulled out the old, aluminium memory, smelling its remnants of its now nonexistent power. Its casing was a beautiful work now marred with cobwebs. Once fast ports lined the sides, with smudges from days of hard work and enjoyment.  Alas, it was now dead to the world. Its once vibrant screen has long stopped working, its once labelled “game-changing” keyboard was stiff and refused to be typed on... No use crying over spilt coke.  However, its presence still echoed its proud days of power. No longer being able to resist it, I opened its top with quavering fingers, almost afraid to disturb its accumulated dust.  Then the impossible happened. Its keyboard lights came on, blinked at me for a moment, then gave out and resumed its sleep.  But it was enough to remind me of days where I spent hours crouching over it, finishing a shot, or watching with proudness as it waded through renders, frame after frame, numbers crawling slowly. I let the overpowering force of nostalgia...
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A gem in a dazzling desert of books... TTGYCPIYHBY Review!

I swear that this is the last book review that will ever be published in this blog... How do I review this book? Bartholomew's Top Ten Games you can Play in your Head, by Yourself is more like a guided daydream not too different from a guided meditation, especially since the whole book comes in an MP3 file.  The book is supposedly written by J Theophrastus Bartholomew, who did not exist on the internet until this book came out. Even images of my old english teacher would come out if you search for him on Google, albeit being slightly outdated. Whether Bartholomew actually exists or not is still a hotly debated topic. The editors, however, were Sam Gorski and D.F. Lovett, of which Sam Gorski was the founder of the viral YouTube channel Corridor Digital.  The amazon page has what seems like a wild description for a terrible rip-off that begs the very question of whether this thing actually works. However, The book is far from a fraud. It first lets you do exercises to be able to...
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The Best Book I've Read Yet... The Game is Life Series Review

 Why am I stuck writing book reviews?  Anyway, here's the review for the series the Game is Life: WARNING: CONTAINS (slight) SPOILER The Game is Life is a special series unlike any other book I have ever read. It's got just the right amount of thrill, technology, romance and deeper meanings, all without boring the reader. The whole book is packed with the motif of people saying "The Game is life" and conspiray theories.  The book is about a reality called Tygon, which has servers hosting Earth, which is the reality we live (or according to the book, play) in.  On Tygon, it is reffered to as The Game. Children use The Game to educate themselves, and, as a decade in The Game is a week on Tygon, is able to gain multiple lifetimes of experience.  SPOILER STARTS Then, we realise that there is another world, where there is a power-hungry general wreaking havoc in order to keep it. A person called Samson Thorn then developed Virtual Reality. Not the silly headset type,...
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Another Review... A Christmas Carol Review

For many, just seeing the name “Charles Dickens” on the cover is enough to send them far away from anything to do with it. But ignore the label screaming “DANGER OF DEATH: DAHL”S CHICKENS DETECTED”: A Christmas Carol is different. It is lightly humorous and very easy to read, as well as having Charles Dickens’ style.  The Christmas Carol is about a miserable man, Scrooge, who hates Christmas and helping the poor, transforming into the exact opposite as he is visited by three ghosts. The first one reminds him of his past relationship, which ended when his greed overtook him. The second shows him how everyone else celebrates Christmas merrily, and then  the third foreshadows what happens if he does not change. I especially like the way the language is ingeniously put together. The way he creates moods so immersive and real seems like pure genius, but when observed closely, you find only common techniques like listing, similes and metaphors, just extended slightly and used with t...
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