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Fictitious Story

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Though I have not yet started a "Doom" story, I wanted to post this to get your opinion. If it is good, then I probably will start writing a doom story with an entirely different persepective...
I usually work best when I am motivated, so feel free to post any criticism.

Numerous times in the past when the winds blew fierce and the day was wet have I had many a weary traveler stop at my door and knock politely. I will tell you a tale of one such traveler who softly rapped on my door one rainy afternoon.

"Kind sir," asked he. "May I stay here for a short while, for the day is dark, and I am weary?"

"Truly the rain is fierce today," said I, and offered him the comfort of my fire, for I did not think it was the rain that troubled this tired traveler but more the solitary nature of his

"Many thanks to you my friend," he said. "Many miles have I walked this day, and with each passing day the path grows more lonely."

I nodded and beckoned him inside. My guess held the truth: it was not the rain that disturbed him so. He shed his soaked cloak and I pulled an extra chair closer to the fire.

Silence held for a time allowing the stranger to warm himself and gather his thoughts. Finally he spoke and I listened respectfully for the lonely pilgrim is often in need of a courteous and respectful ear. He told me of his journey and the grievances it had brought him. Of terrible illness and cancer he spoke, of thieves lusting for money and blood, of mad cities filled with roaring motor vehicles and many cruel and vengeful people but all these he tossed aside because they had not bothered him much. They were a part of the journey: a test of his faith and resolve. His greatest fear, he claimed was the deep loneliness that grew with each league he walked. This solitude was all consuming, tearing at his soul until at times he could bear it no longer, collapsing where he walked and weeping great tears of pain and agony.

"I cannot find an answer to this terrible affliction of mine," he said sadly. "In truth this is the reason I came to your door." Although this remark came to me as slightly peculiar, he looked at me with a soft hope in his eyes. I stared quietly into the fire, dismissing my thoughts, lighting my pipe and thinking carefully.
The room became suddenly quiet except for the gentle crackling of the fire and the drumming of rain on the windows. When I did speak it was much to the relief of the traveler for the silence had caused him to become uneasy and he was eager for me to speak my thoughts. He leaned forward in his chair preying upon my every word.

"If you listen carefully stranger," I told him, "you may hear the pounding of the rain upon the earth, and if you pass your gaze over to the sky you will find no sun. She is hidden from us today, for the clouds which bring us much needed rain also bring us darkness." Apprehension and confusion replaced the hope in the traveler’s eyes. He did not understand and was about to speak, but I stilled him and puffed upon my pipe. "There are others elsewhere of course who are happily basking in the radiant sun, and they are at peace on account of the fact that the rains have come and gone. They may now enjoy their sunshine before it is once again hidden from them. There are others too who have received no rain: they have lain long under the shining sun but they do not rejoice for they long for the awesome presence of the rain that the clouds will bring." I paused to puff slowly on my pipe and allow the stranger to consider my words.

Still sensing his confusion I continued. "Loneliness is not unlike the rain. Despite the misery that it may bring it is still necessary to sustain life. It strengthens the land as loneliness strengthens your soul. One cannot live only half a life my friend, and if you did indeed live such a life under a perpetual sun, how could you value it if you had not suffered the rain? Learn to cherish not only the sun, but also the rain that allows you to appreciate it. You cannot, may not banish loneliness, but only endure it until such a time comes where you may cast it off, albeit for a while."

The man at my side suddenly became crestfallen since he had hoped to be rid of the loneliness that plagued him so. "Some days must be dark and dreary my friend," I told him. "Such has life always been, and always will be. Do not fear it."

The stranger leaned back in his chair, his eyes lost in thought. "You have given me much to consider old man," he said and I nodded. "I fear that what you say holds truth and although I wish to doubt it, it has somehow strengthened me." He grew silent and I smoked the rest of my pipe. The fire slowly burned down and after the night had grown old and the rain had abated, I retired to bed. When I awoke in the morning, the stranger was gone.

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Nice story. Funny how the language seems old-fashioned, but that's not a bad thing at all, because it fits well with the story.
You have a nice, descriptive language which builds up the cozy story-teller mood nicely. Good work my friend.

A side remark: If you plan to do Doom stories, I hope you don't use this old-fashioned language (and I couldn't imagine that you would possibly do that), because that would seem totally off when telling a tale that takes place in a futuristic setting.

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The descriptions are excellent, the character's thoughts are very emotional, and the overall styling is (Spike classic here) spot on.

Actually, it'd be interesting to see a Doom story told in such an old-fashioned manner. If handled carefully, it'd make for a compulsive read; i myself was riveted to this one (tho i'm a big Anne Rice fan, so that's probably got something to do with it).

9/10 Doomedout.

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Thanks guys, the reason I choose this title in particular is because I really wanted to approach a doom story from a different angle altogether. The problem that is occuring is that I tend to moralise everything. Furthermore, adversity in any form and pervisity in any shape, size and form compells me to think and somehow or the other I incorporate my reflections into the stories I write. If you notice, the tone of this story is one of reflection; this tone symbolizes the way I write. This is the biggest issue confronting me when I begin to write a doom story.
I don't want a tear jerker or some poetic story; I want to write a kick ass doom story.

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I do not see why you would want to make this into a DOOM-story... The only thing it shares with DOOM is gothic airs, which, actually, show in DOOM in a much less traditional way. Plus, DOOM is pretty predictable and limited in scope. I do not believe this wil be a "DOOM story" if you let yourself simply carry on writing...

Err.. nevermind, I misread the intro... but my thoughts about the limitations of writing fanfics still apply.

doomedout said:

I don't want a tear jerker or some poetic story; I want to write a kick ass doom story.

What you posted is, nonetheless, rather poetic... no reason to ruin that style trying to make it "doomy."

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