by: dhinged
Jack saw the mirror as he almost got down the hatch-pipe after tying a rope to his waist to lower himself down. He was afraid Kate had already gone down the hatch, which was why he was down here in the first place. He didn't see any sign of Kate, but that might have been her shoes which he saw laying on the ground facing perpindicular to his viewing point of the shoes, just past the mirror. He pulled out a flashlight, which was black and gave off a bright white light that luminositied the entire place, including the walls, the ground, and the other ceiling above. He saw a painting, which reminded him of the fingerpainting he did as a child in kindergarten school. It looked just like a child's painting. The number "108" scrawled across it flamboyantly like a well-known painter had painted it using crazy strokes with a messy paint brush, that wasn't too big but wasn't too small either; just the right size. As he walked down the hallway, he was scared as he kept seeing the things on the walls and around him. He saw a giant black metal thing in the wall which he saw, which attracted the key around his neck like a bird to a bird-call. He wasn't sure whether to panic and run like hell or just look at the wall, looking for some sign of a door handle or a key. He found no key so he left and walked again down the hall, looking for something, anything, that might be Kate down the hall. Whatever it was he sensed, he thought it might be his third-sense looking for something that he could never find. He was shocked when the music played, and rotated his gun around as he looked on in shock and saw nobody there. He knew the music was there, but couldn't find anybody. Suddenly he turned around and a computer was standing there, as he walked right up to it and inspected it with his glowing flashlight. The computer had an "Execute" button, but he wasn't willing to push it as it was flashing green and you couldn't type any text into it. Suddenly the music stopped, but this wasn't the end of his adventure, as a guy said "Hold it right there, brutha" and Jack flipped around and saw Locke standing there staring at him. The strange thing about Locke was that he was facing Jack, but behind him and to the left was a guy holding a pistol out from his arm, with the rest of him behind a wall. The pistol was pointed at the top of Locke's head. Jack pulled his pistol out, which he brought with him from a suitcase he found buried in the sand from a Marshall who had locked it and they couldn't find the key except for digging up the body which Kate tried to steal and she wanted the little airplane. It's amazing she found that airplane at all because the fire marshall had kept it in his bag which was located on top of the luggage rack and hit him in the head. That was all in the past now because Jack knew that Locke had a gun pointed to his head now. And Jacke could do nothing about it. Except pull out his gun and point it at the guy holding the gun behind Locke. "Drop the gun or I'll blow a hole in his head!" Said a voice behind the gun. Locke kept staring. Jacke wanted to know where Kate was so he said "Where is Kate!" The guy said "Drop it bloody brother or I'll blow his head off!" Too bad Jacke had the gun because he wouldn't drop it. He just wanted to shoot whoever had the gun. Locke said "It's not worth it", and Jacke said "Is this what you wanted?" and Locke said nothing and then Jacke said "All roads end here?" Locke was confused and started shaking his head, but it didn't do him any good because the guy behind the other gun came out and said "You don't want me to kill him do you brutha?" and Jack knew who it was. It was Desmond, who he met while jogging up stairs while Desmond was. Desmond was jogging and saw Jack and they both met and Jack says "You're running around the world heh?" and Desmond says "Yes, it's a polar express race, and you should lift it up". "Huh?" Jacke says, and Desmond says "Lift her up". at which point Jack nods his head and now he recognizes him in the hatch. "You." Jack says. THE END
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:24 PM
by: libbyrocks05
He pulled out a flashlight, which was black and gave off a bright white light that luminositied the entire place, including the walls, the ground, and the other ceiling above. He saw a painting, which reminded him of the fingerpainting he did as a child in kindergarten school. It looked just like a child's painting. The number "108" scrawled across it flamboyantly like a well-known painter had painted it using crazy strokes with a messy paint brush, that wasn't too big but wasn't too small either; just the right size. This is priceless....ROFLMAO.luminositied is that a word?????
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:37 PM
by: Hatchcrazy
Know why I love this thread? It's all the stuff my writing teachers told me NOT to do."luminositied" ROTFLMAO!!!!!
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:39 PM
by: LIONARTist
I always thought it was "Luminositized".
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:44 PM
by: Hatchcrazy
I always thought it was "Luminositized".
You're thinking of "Lumina-sitized"The act of being trapped in a Chevy Lumina.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:47 PM
by: LIONARTist
Hey! Don't laugh. That actually happened to me once. I had to eat the interior and drink my own urine.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 02:51 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock (4501 Posts in the last 90 days) Registered: Mar 23, 2005
Hey! Don't laugh. That actually happened to me once. I had to eat the interior and drink my own urine.
Isn't that par for the course with all Lumina owners?
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:12 PM
by: back_gammon
Having Heard the Sound, It Now Needed Following
The blonde hair of Claire bounced silently in the sunshine of which there was too much since it landed on the island without anyone knowing where they were.“Oh,” Claire exclaimed! The one syllable word ejected from her mouth like a calm and well rested test pilot in a fast roaring jet from the government. Charlie told his eyes to feast hungrily, as if no one could see him at the mouth of Claire. They did.“Claire, what is it?” he inquired with a loud sigh that was sounding to his ears like both had come together and meeting on top of his head. He was turning his neck and his head followed it to see something else. Shannon was walking the dog in a short skirt. “Hair brushes, Charlie. Did you find any hairbrushes?” Claire’s hair was the best in the land. It had survived everything of consequence with no problem of passing every test of her truest beauty. The thoughts of Charlie suddenly remembered something right about then…...The dying wishes of his grandmother who was living in Bristol...
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:15 PM
by: captainaeon
Shannon was walking the dog in a short skirt.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:16 PM
by: LIONARTist
I loved it. Very bad indeed. I think Hatch will be wanting to sign you up.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:17 PM
by: LIONARTist
Shannon was walking the dog in a short skirt. How that dog got into that skirt, I'll never know.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:20 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
Clash of the Titus
Ana-Lucia looked up from the knife she was buffing to a fine sheen. It was Libby that had been making that grunting noise. Ana-Lucia turned ninety degrees and shot her a look that could kill. Fortunately, Libby was wearing a Kevlar vest. But, she thought it best to stop with the grunting noises; after all it wasn’t that important that she shave both her legs. She shot Ana-Lucia a darting look. Fortunately, Ana-Lucia was wearing a dartboard across her chest. Libby’s shot missed the bull’s eye so she was only awarded five points.Ana-Lucia decided that it was time to talk to Libby about the “INCIDENT”. After removing the dartboard from her chest, she walked right up to Libby’s trench and aggitatedly said, “I have a bone to pick with you.” Vincent, who was a few miles away but had amazing hearing abilities, perked up. Meanwhile, Libby put down her Lady Shick razor and climbed out of her trench, yelling back to the French troops, “Les garcons, vous restez ici et gardez les mangues.” They answered back, “Oui.” Ana-Lucia backed up, as French language speakers was the only thing in this rotten world that frightened her. Libby advanced on Ana-Lucia with stern intent written all over face. Ana-Lucia, trying to appease Libby-the-French-speaker, handed Libby a handkerchief to wipe the stern intent from her face. The French troops spotting this gesture mistook it for an act of aggression against the mangoes they were guarding and aimed the trebuchet at Ana-Lucia killing her dead, deader than a doornail.Libby whirled around 180 degrees and realized she had turned too far and then whirled around ninety degrees. She shot the French troops a darting glance killing them all because they had neglected to wear their dartboards that day.The End
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:28 PM
by: LIONARTist
I have to admit, the French-speaking part scared me a little.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:29 PM
by: LIONARTist
We must save this thread and mold all the stories into one cohesive book. It'll sell millions. MILLIONS I TELL YA!!!
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:30 PM
by: mistressshake
Claire stared at Locke, she was unsure about what he was proposing, that she should come into the jungle with him, not that they should get married, although later on this is even funnier because Charlie thinks there something going on between them. So she got up, when Locke offered her his hand to lift her up, and followed him into the jungle where he said he would put her to work. That was strange because she was 8 and a half months pregnant and probably shouldn’t be doing any type of labor, other than the kind where she’d have the baby. 8 was also one of the numbers that everyone is always talking about, but they’re talking about it later because at this point in the story no one knows about them yet but Hurley, and he says they’re bad.When they get to the jungle, Locke begins cutting down trees and talking to Claire on light topics. Claire appreciates Locke’s attempt to make her feel comfortable, and even though she is a bit wary, since she’s just let a near stranger drag her into the deep foliage without letting anyone know where she is going, she gives him a small smile, the kind she saves for people she is humoring, like when she went to a psychic and she thought he was full of it, but then it turns out he was just trying to kill her because there is some weird thing about her baby, which she doesn’t even really want, but he gave her back her money which she used to buy those curtains.All day goes by and Locke and Claire are still doing something with these sticks and twigs and she can’t really tell what it is they are doing, but she’s grateful that she’s no longer sawing away on these branches because even though she got to sit down, it sure felt like manual labor, which she shouldn’t be doing because she’s very pregnant and with all of the trauma, from when there was a plane crash and an explosion and she was hurled through the air with a guy named Hurley, she’s in a fragile state.It’s been getting dark for a while and Locke is still making polite conversation, even though a lot of times it seems like he’s trying to make some huge point or other and she never seems to catch on until he reveals his true intentions at the end. Claire tells Locke it is her birthday, secretly hoping for some attention because she’s been pretty neglected since her boyfriend left and a little sympathy would be great, especially since they’ve been on this island for a while now and the only person willing to wait on her hand and foot is Charlie, and the service is awesome but he’s just not that hot. Locke tells Claire that its good luck for her birthday to be close to the baby’s, and she can’t really imagine why that would be so she smiles that smile again and hopes that something else will happen soon to break the tension in the air. When nothing happens she realizes that she wants to know what it is they’ve been making all day, its surely some kind of weapon or a boat to get them all off the island, so she just blurts out the question accidentally letting some of her frustration leak out, as well as a bit of gas. Locke wishes her happy birthday and turns the object they’ve been working on all day upside down, which doesn’t make any sense at all. It really did look like some sort of table and exactly what good would a table be if you had to place your item down in it instead of on top of it. Claire suddenly realizes that Locke has been making a cradle all day long, for the baby and she gives him a big genuine smile as thanks, though hiding the fact that she’s sore she had to help make her own birthday present.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:39 PM
by: Hatchcrazy
We must save this thread and mold all the stories into one cohesive book. It'll sell millions. MILLIONS I TELL YA!!!
I think we should all get a chapter to write.Mine will be called "A treatise on Bio-Electronic Wavelengths." and it will mostly concern Charlie partying with his band.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:43 PM
by: back_gammon
...Charlie had been eavesdropping and overheard that his Grandmother intended to throw a surprise party for him outside her kitchen window.But she was forever dead now, Charlie remembered, that he was alive, and, so however, was Claire’s hair. And she wanted a brush. He stood up to go, sand scattering and searching for one or more with bristles.While walking down the beach, a tree began to fall…
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 03:51 PM
by: back_gammon
That's it from me. I can't misplace or dangle any more modifiers on an empty stomach.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 04:01 PM
by: MeSlapMeThrowRock
Dangling participles are good if you melt cheese on them.
Posted: Dec 08 2005 @ 04:33 PM
by: back_gammon
...Without looking to see the tree, his feet ran.All the ears on the beach were on the tree now, as it crashed. Charlie just made it in time. Out of the way of the tree that all the ears were on. "OH" ! Running up the beach came the sound of Claire's exclamation. Charlie thought it sounded like a gentle breeze between both his ears. "Charlie," are you all right? Claire questioned him in that way she did."LOOK OUT!" Someone whispered loudly from his secretly placed behind...
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