Works by Mathias. PG.

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Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Mathias » Thu Jul 09, 2009 12:37 pm

This work is published and thus copyrighted to Matthew Robert Dimitroff. All rights reserved.


Tim nervously fiddled with his tie and the silverware on the table. This would be his first blind date and he was worried that it would not go well. He glanced at his cell phone; she was five minutes late. Small beads of sweat pushed out from his pores.

“Would you like an appetizer, sir?”

Tim jumped in his seat as he had been too preoccupied to notice the waiter’s approach.

“Uh…uh, yeah. Some bread, please.”

“Right away, sir.”

Tim slumped down in his seat and wiped the perspiration from his brow. He snatched the towel which had wrapped the wares and wrung his hand through it. His anxiety turned to mild frustration. He pulled his sleeve back to look at his watch; she was now seven minutes late.

He had made certain to reserve a table within view of the host’s station so that he could see anyone and everyone who entered, and thus his eyes were glued to the podium where the host stood. He perked up when he saw a fine woman enter. She was alone. When the host pointed to him, Tim immediately adjusted his posture and re-aligned the utensils on the table.

The woman smiled politely as she approached. Tim raised a corner of his mouth in a shoddy attempt to return the favor.

“Hello, Tim?” she asked.

“Yep, that’s me, Timothy,” he laughed nervously. He knew it was a dumb rhyme. He felt more assured when he heard her chuckle, albeit politely.

“Well, I’m Betty.”

“It’s a pleasure.” He offered his hand to shake hers. She awkwardly accepted. There was a pause afterward as Betty tapped the chair before her expectantly.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry!” Tim stood from his seat, neglecting to push it out first. He nearly stumbled to the floor.

He regained his composure and reached for Betty’s chair. As she stepped aside, he pulled it out.

“There you go,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks…” She ran her hands down the skirt of her dress to straighten it as she sat.
Tim tried to push her in to the table, but the chair’s legs were held fast by the carpet. He gave it a shove and it skipped forward, thrusting Betty into the table.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine, thank you.”

Tim pulled at his collar as he walked around to his seat.

“So, Betty, tell me about yourself.”

“Well, I’m in college, studying to become a nurse.”

“College, huh? When I was in college, I had to pay for every semester with loans. I’m still payin’ them back,” he laughed. “Know what I mean?”

“My schooling is paid for with grants and scholarships.”

“Oh…You must be pretty smart, then?”

“I suppose,” she smirked with pride.

“What else do you do?”

“I love to read.”

“You would have to to read all those medical texts,” he laughed again.

“Yeah, right…” she laughed awkwardly.

“I have to say, you look be-a-utiful.” He winced at his own corniness.

“Well, thank you. I just kind of threw my self together.”

“Is that why you’re late?”

There was an awkward pause as Betty stared at him wide-eyed.

“Um, no, actually. If I am late, it’s because of traffic.”

“Oh, yeah. Who drives a car in New York? I don’t…”

“Hmm…” Her mouth shifted to one side. “Tell me about yourself, Timothy.”

“Well, what can I say? Tim’s just Tim. There isn’t much to say, really.” He looked down at the table. Betty anticipated more, but it never came.

“Well, what do you do for a living?” she asked.

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that…”

“Elaborate.”

“I take on odd jobs. They’re mostly short-lived.”

“I see.”

At this time, the waiter returned with the bread.

“Would you like a beverage, miss?” inquired the waiter.

Betty hesitated before finally confirming.

“I’ll have a beer.”

“Whoa,” Tim remarked. “We got a partier here.”

Betty smiled reluctantly.

“Very well, miss.” The waiter swiveled in place and returned to the bar.

“So, here’s a crazy thought,” Tim proposed. “How do you feel about marriage?”

Betty closed her eyes and sighed in disbelief. She pushed out her seat and left.
Tim grabbed his head in both hands and placed his elbows on the table.

“Aw, dang. Mom’s gonna be so disappointed.”
Last edited by Mathias on Fri Jul 10, 2009 4:43 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby Tuor » Thu Jul 09, 2009 12:55 pm

I like Tim very much. The way you wrote has piqued my interest about him and what his deal is.
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby Mathias » Thu Jul 09, 2009 1:01 pm

Lol, too bad that's all there is. There isn't any more. This was a one-time thing I wrote for the publication. Basically, he's just a loser.
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby Tuor » Thu Jul 09, 2009 1:04 pm

That's terrible, I thought this was a teaser!
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby Mathias » Thu Jul 09, 2009 1:04 pm

That's what flash fiction is. 2-3 page story.
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby Tuor » Thu Jul 09, 2009 1:06 pm

I'd never heard the term before.
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby Mathias » Thu Jul 09, 2009 1:07 pm

I hadn't, either. Don't worry, I'll be putting up a lengthier piece soon.
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby Tuor » Thu Jul 09, 2009 1:11 pm

Radsauce.
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby BeeAre » Thu Jul 09, 2009 4:44 pm

Not much to the theme honestly, there needs to be more unifying description to the sense that he's a loser.

Most of your sentences take too long to describe the actions taking place, which is a good problem to have, usually people spend time wasting their description trying to give it meaning.

You've got mostly the opposite problem, which is easier to fix, imo, you just need to combine the efforts of your actions into describing the importance of every action so as to make us relate to the character's theme of awkwardness more fluidly.

As it stands, it just happens, there's not even a stilt to the writing to suggest a THEMATIC awkwardness.

It's not bad, I appreciate the straight-forwardness of the piece, but it needs thematic persistance.
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby Mathias » Fri Jul 10, 2009 10:45 am

I probably should have stated earlier, but the theme of the writing was "jumping bridges," which was conveyed through his question of marriage. The title "Blind" was not the theme, but I chose it because it's fitting.

So, basically, I should condense my exposition and make it even more of a flash fiction.
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Mathias- "Spookerstition" Original Short Story; PG

Postby Mathias » Fri Jul 10, 2009 11:15 am

This is a published work and is thus copyrighted to Matthew Robert Dimitroff. All rights reserved.

This is one version of this story. There is another version featuring interjecting commentary from the listeners. After feedback for this one, I may put up the alternate.

Spookerstition

Chuck poked at the campfire with a stick to evenly distribute the burn while Eddie sat on a log across from him, polishing his shotgun. Jake sat one spot over as he disassembled his rifle. They looked over at Hunter as he walked from his tent, carrying shell cartridges.

“Anybody got any stories to tell while we clean our rifles?” Jake inquired.

“Chuck’s got a story for us,” Eddie suggested with a smile. “Tell ‘em, Chuck.”

“Which one’re you talking about?” Chuck asked.

“You know, the one about that house we worked on.”

“Now, we’ve worked on several houses…”

“You know, the one with the spooks.”

“Oh yeah, I gotcha. Boy, is that one a hoot.”

“Spooks?” Hunter inquired. “That’s like ghosts, right?”

“Yepp’n it is,” Eddie answered.

“Y’all quiet down now so I can tell the story.” Chuck set his stick down and crossed his legs as he leaned forward on the log.

“Oh, boy…” Jake grew restless with excitement.

“Eddie and I had just bought a new house. Well, it was an old house, but it was new to us. Having been abandoned for years, it was definitely a fixer-upper. Which was fine, because we were fixer-uppers. In our line of work, we’ve seen a lot of doozies, but this house…this one took the cake and ate it. Eddie thinks the place was haunted. I’ve been a handyman long enough to know that most unexplained incidents are caused by negligence and rickety old masonry.

“When we first started moving in, right away we had problems. Eddie had gone upstairs to use the latrine. Next thing I knew, he was running down the stairs hollering for me to see the toilet. I told Eddie he was a bit old to be showing off his good jobs and the only good jobs I wanted to see were in renovating this house. But, he insisted I come and see anyway. So I followed him up to the restroom and he showed me the toilet. The bowl water was pitch black. He said it was clear one minute, then dark the next. I asked if he went number one or number two, and he said he ‘ain’t done nothin’ yet.’ So I said it musta been the septic tank. Eddie said there weren’t no septic tank. Well, no wonder. Whoever built the house forgot to install a septic tank. All the waste was just clogged up in the pipes ‘cause it had nowhere to go. Eddie agreed with me, though he seemed a bit reluctant. He never did use the toilet.

“A few days later, I was tweaking the plumbing under the kitchen sink when I heard Eddie walk in and sit at the kitchen table. I crawled out from under the sink and saw him sittin’ there, shakin’ with the jitters. I asked what the problem was and he said he didn’t wanna talk about it. Then, I stood and felt this cold draft pick up, which was unusual because all the windows were closed, and it was the middle of summer. I surmised that it musta been the air conditioner and Eddie was just trembling because he was cold. So I went to investigate the AC unit in the basement, of all places.

“It was pretty empty down there, as we hadn’t really worked on it yet. When I examined the air conditioner, I was befuddled because the derned thing wasn’t even on! I felt another cold draft. Now, it wasn’t uncommon for a basement to be cold, but this was unusually cold. Then I heard this deep, low roaring sound. It sounded like the wind. I figured that there musta been a hole in the wall somewhere what was letting in cold air. Sure enough, upon further investigation, I found that the outside cellar doors were open. I closed them back and went upstairs to find Eddie struggling to pour himself some coffee. I berated him for spilling it as he poured. A man in this line of work has to have strong, steady hands!

“A few days later, I was in the living room measuring some wood when Eddie came back from the store. He was carrying what looked like a board game in his hands. I asked him what the deal was and he told me it was a ‘Luigi Board.’ I asked him if it was a board game based on that video game character and he said he didn’t know what I was talking about. He said this board could be used to have conversations with ghosts. I told Eddie that was just spookerstition, though I would have liked to speak with the missus one more time and ask her where she kept those life insurance papers.

“Eddie led me over to the dining room table and set up this Luigi Board. The board itself had every letter of the alphabet printed on it, with a few words like ‘yes’ and ‘no’ spelled out. It came with this crazy silver object what looked like a cloverleaf which had a plastic lens that magnified the letters on the board as it passed over them. I thought that was silly. You could see the letters just fine without it. Eddie instructed me to set my fingers onto the cloverleaf as he did the like. He asked if there was anyone there who wanted to speak, and I said I would. Eddie corrected me, saying he was talking to the spirit.

“Suddenly, the cloverleaf moved across the board, spelling the words ‘get out’ over and over. Eddie musta been doing that because the look on his face suggested he was terrified and wanted that spirit gone.

“I then told Eddie I’d had enough of this silliness and had to get back to work. Later that day I saw that Luigi Board burnt to a crisp in the barbecue pit. Eddie sure knew how to waste money.

“The next day, I was walking down the hallway next to the stairs when I noticed a candle on the wall was melting. I went to touch the wax, but the wax evaporated! I drew two possible conclusions from this: One, the candle was so old that the wax turned to powder once it melted and dried. Two, the manufacturers had come up with a new type of candle that evaporated, saving people from having to clean up wax from their tables. What was odd, though, was the fact that the candle wasn’t even lit…

“Just then, Eddie walked in. I asked him if he had lit the candle earlier. He said he hadn’t, so I told him about the powder. He said that ‘weren’t no powder, it was ectoplasm.’

“‘Ectoplasm?’ I asked. ‘Like the car from the Ghostbusters movie? That don’t make no sense.’

“He said that was just ‘Ecto.’ Ectoplasm was ghost gunk. As soon as he said that, that low roar was heard again, only it was coming from upstairs. I knew for sure that the cellar doors were shut, so it musta been something in the vent. I looked back at Eddie to ask him about it, but he had run out the front door. I guessed he went to inspect outside.

“When I entered the upstairs hallway, I noticed there was a lot of smoke around. I turned and saw this black figure at the end of the hall. Now, when I say ‘black figure,’ I don’t mean ‘African-American,’ I mean black like a shadow, which was weird because the sunlight was shining directly into the window behind him. Then I heard that low roar again. I figured it was coming from the ventilation shaft behind the man.

“I called out to him, ‘hey, fella, what are you doin’ here? Did you put somethin’ in that vent?’

“Suddenly, these two red lights appeared where his face shoulda been. Then I heard that sound again. I scratched my head. Whatever was in that vent had me dumbfounded. Then next thing I knew, that fella was standing not an inch in front of me. I asked him what the deal was, getting in my face like that. I even went to poke him in the chest to show him what-for, but my finger seemed to go right through him! I figured the smoke musta clouded my vision and I missed.

“Then it looked like he was trying to talk back, but I couldn’t hear him because the sound from the vent drowned him out. It sounded like he said ‘pig snout.’ I figured he meant that was what was in the vent. Suddenly, the whole house started shaking, which caused me to lose my balance and nearly topple down the stairs. That pig snout was causing quite a ruckus. I grabbed the stair railing and guided myself down. When I looked back up, that man was gone. So I came to the conclusion that he musta gone to check out that vent.

“‘’Preciate it!’ I called to him. Then the house started shaking more heavily. I stumbled out the front door. As soon as I stepped off the porch, I looked back and saw the second floor collapse onto the first floor and the whole thing wound up as a big ol’ pile of firewood.

“‘How peculiar,’ I thought. ‘My insurance is gonna skyrocket.’ I never saw the man afterward, so I figured he was trapped inside, God rest his soul.

“Since the house had collapsed, I decided to take a stroll over to the police station to report it. I took a pen and notepad out of my pocket, wrote a note for Eddie, and stuck it under a shingle.

“At the station, I approached a receptionist and asked where to report a collapsed house. She gave me a funny look then asked me to wait. Before long, I was called back into this office with three officers. I told them that my house had collapsed. When I gave them the address, they looked at each other, then looked at me and said ‘get out.’”

“Hoo doggie, that gives me the shakes hearin’ it again.” Eddie said with a shiver.

“What’d you do when the cops told you to get out?” Jake inquired.

“I left.” Chuck replied.

“Now, you don’t expect us to believe this mess, do ya?” Hunter questioned.

“It happened,” Chuck replied. “Eddie was there. He’ll tell ya.”

“I shore was,” Eddie chimed in. “I don’t ever wanna go back.”

“Whaddyou think, Jake?” Chuck asked.

“I think I shoulda brought s’more clothes.”

Chuck, Eddie, and Hunter all laughed at Jake’s expense for several minutes before turning in for the night. As Eddie settled into his sleeping bag, he could swear he heard a low roaring sound from the woods. He figured it was the wind.
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Re: Mathias - "Blind" Original Flash Fiction; Published Work

Postby GridsNaranek » Fri Jul 10, 2009 4:12 pm

Your topics have been merged. Forum rules - only one active thread per user, so publish all your works in that one thread.
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Mathias » Mon Jul 13, 2009 4:10 pm

I have a new story posted, for anyone who cares.
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Tuor » Mon Jul 13, 2009 4:23 pm

I love how dense Chuck is.
"Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits."
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Mathias » Mon Jul 13, 2009 4:34 pm

He was initially far more oblivious, but my colleagues wanted it to be more "realistic" and for him to have "normal" reactions. The scene with the ghost and the ending went like this:

Suddenly, these two red lights appeared where his face shoulda been. Then I heard that sound again. I scratched my head. Whatever was in that vent had me dumbfounded. Then next thing I knew, that fella was standing not an inch in front of me. I asked him what the deal was, getting in my face like that. I even went to poke him in the chest to show him what-for, but my finger went right through him! He must notta been standing as close as I thought.

Then it looked like he was trying to talk back, but I couldn’t hear him because the sound from the vent drowned him out. It sounded like he said ‘pig snout.’ I figured he meant that was what was in the vent. Suddenly, the whole house started shaking, which caused me to lose my balance and nearly topple down the stairs. That pig snout was causing quite a ruckus. I grabbed the stair railing and guided myself down. When I looked back up, that man was gone. He musta gone to check out that vent.

‘’Preciate it!’ I called to him. Then the house started shaking more heavily. I stumbled out the front door. As soon as I stepped off the porch, I looked back and the entire house just caved in on itself. The second floor collapsed onto the first floor and the whole thing wound up as a big ol’ pile of firewood.

‘How peculiar,’ I thought. Whatever was in that vent musta put up quite a fight. I didn’t see the man, so I assumed he jumped out the window just in time.

Since the house had collapsed, I decided to take a stroll over to the police station to report it. I took a pen and notepad out of my pocket, wrote a note for Eddie, and stuck it under a shingle. At the station, I told the authorities that my house had collapsed. When I gave them the address, they looked at each other, then looked at me and said ‘get out.’”
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Mathias » Thu Jul 16, 2009 9:34 am

The intro to a series concept. Monkey King goes to modern America.

"The Marvelous Misadventures of the Monkey King"

Wukong balances on the tip of his Nyoi-bo as it stands atop the apex of a mountain. He peers across the cloudscape.
“This place has been so boring since technology advanced so far. No one goes on adventures anymore.”
His ear twitches. He peers through the clouds, down the mountain, in the direction from which the sound came. He sees a woman running several meters ahead of a man on horseback. He shrinks his Nyoi-bo, nestles it behind his left ear, and hops down off the mountain, landing harmlessly onto his feet before the distraught woman.
“Have no fear, mortal woman, for you are saved! I am the Mon-KEEEEEE!!!”
The woman wallops him on the head with a fry pan.
“Eek! A demon!”
“I’m not a demon, I’m a god!”
“Yeek!”
The woman swings at him again. Wukong hooks himself to the branch of a nearby tree with his prehensile tail.
“Jeez, what’s wrong with you, lady?! I’m trying to help you, here!”
The woman bats at him with the fry pan. Sun swings himself onto the branch, out of the woman’s reach. She returns to fleeing from the horseman. Wukong hears the horse drawing nearer. He plucks his Nyoi-bo from behind his ear and, leaning his back against the tree trunk, braces his feet against the branch and positions his right palm against the staff, steadying it with his left hand. The instant the pursuing horseman passes the tree, Wukong extends the Nyoi-bo, knocking the man off of his horse and into the mountain face. The horse continues to gallop forward. Sun hops down and leans over the man while planting his staff upright in the ground and grasping it with his right hand.
“Why are you chasing such an aggravating woman?”
The man lifts his head, rubbing it as he speaks.
“What’s it to you pu-urk!”
The man is stunned by Wukong’s appearance.
“A m-m-monkey?!”
“Not a monkey, the monkey!” Sun boasts proudly.
The man hops up and runs away screaming.
“Sigh, no respect. No one even knows who I am anymore. I should leave, move to somewhere exotic. (Not that it gets more exotic than Asia.)”
Wukong’s ear perks up as an airplane passes overhead.
“Oh, it’s one of those ‘aeroplanes.’”
He ponders for a moment.

Wukong sits on the wing of the airplane. A boy sees him through a window and is stunned.
“This isn’t bad. Not that I prefer it to my nimbus. Wonder where this thing is going, anyway?”
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Blood Lord » Thu Aug 06, 2009 9:25 pm

Your first one, with Tim wasn't all that bad. I understood his feelings and felt a connection with the character. Its a shame you decide not to continue that. You could have made a great story out of it.

I loved the haunted house campfire story. There were some parts that made me chuckle.

I viewed your word description in that particular story as the best. I like stories that are descriptive, where you can visualize the action happening. You seemed to nail it quite well in that one.

Your last story update is the confusing one. I didn't fully understand its purpose, or if you did it for the heck of it.

Perhaps it just means that people are lazy, or unappreciative.

I hoped some of this helped. I'm somewhat still new to the writing critic thing.

You have interested me, so I promise to check in and read when you update again.
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Mathias » Thu Aug 06, 2009 10:38 pm

By the latest update, I presume you mean the Monkey King thing? That was just an idea I threw out for the hell of it. The idea was for Wukong to travel to the modern USA and chronicle his experiences. Wukong is portrayed as more of an impatient, irritable fellow as opposed to his legendary badassery.
Thanks for the praise.
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Pika Thunder » Mon Aug 17, 2009 12:19 am

Fantastic writing style. How many times have you been published?
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Mathias » Mon Aug 17, 2009 7:09 pm

Only once. It was a limited (and free) release -- on campus.
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Pika Thunder » Mon Aug 17, 2009 10:13 pm

Awesome. It takes me like 6 revisions to get something I feel can be published. One of the reasons I started writing here was to challenge myself to write something at such a pace that I won't be able to keep going back and revising. You know, attempt to get it right the first time, but still, I go back and see so many errors in my works. V_V
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Mathias » Mon Aug 17, 2009 10:15 pm

I don't like revising. I only do so if it's mandated (class and such). In fact, "Blind" was only one draft written in twenty minutes or less with one minor change.
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Mathias » Sat Aug 22, 2009 1:30 pm

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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Blood Lord » Sat Aug 22, 2009 10:51 pm

That guy seems familiar. Its like I know him on another internet site... but where?
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Re: Works by Mathias. PG.

Postby Mathias » Sat Aug 22, 2009 10:53 pm

Heh.
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