Eat Columbus with Tom Lin

Eat Columbus: Taco Truck Tour Part 1

2009-10-09T07:12:47Z

Done due to a request from my good friend Amit, who had somehow found out about it and given me the website to search for it. A few scenes were cut out since it just reinforced what we were talking about while eating, and also a comment by me about the pink truck, about how it's a perfect place for guys since it is run by pretty girls who cook in a pink truck. Yeah, I'm not very subtle, not at all. Enjoy, and let me know if you're interested in joining us on the next one (Which will be on the concentration around Morse and Cleveland when it becomes warm again)

Out of the Hyatt party

2009-09-27T02:33:29Z

Lend me your voices, what would be the best day to have a party? ~~This Fri or Sat night, or even day,~~ shoot, I could make it a cookout/party thing.

As most of you probably know already, I've accepted the position as store manager for Panda Express, which, uh, strangely enough, actually would pay me more than any promotion I'll receive from the Hyatt. So, before I leave for Fort Wayne, Indiana for training on Oct. 11th, I'd love to see everyone I know at the party since I'll be out of Columbus for about 5 weeks.

So, yeah, trying to figure out which day would be the best. Comment away, peeps!

Edit: NM on the day thing, we figured it's probably better doing it on Sat anyway, at my place, since we're going to make it an all day thing with cookout and drinking, and people have school/work on Fri usually. So, uh, yeah, just come on over, or comment to let me know you'll be here

Tom Lin Project Desserts: Cinnamon Rolls

2009-09-22T07:51:58Z

Okay, so, uh, somehow, I either forgot to shoot the end of the program, or just lost it altogether. It ends basically with the recipe done and such, but it's missing the usual tasting and farewell thing I do at the end. It's still good though, although it does feel like it got cut off quite short and instantly. Either way, enjoy. I'll be doing our taco truck tour next as the project...

Tom Lin Project Desserts: Irish Cream Cake

2009-09-09T19:06:43Z

Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's been almost a month since I released anything, but it's been a busy month, and I finally got enough time in my schedule for editing. So, here it is, an older, kinder (Maybe?), Tom Lin Project. Next, I'll be editing Frank's famous Cinnamon roll recipe.

So my stomach hates me from the two Eat Columbus segments we did yesterday, the first being a tour that consisted of five taco trucks, and the second being hot dogs at Dirty Franks. Yeah, Dirty Franks is great for anybody who loves toppings on great hot dogs, and it's a great bar too, so you can stay there and eat/drink till they kick you out. Your stomach may thank you, or it may send you into two extended bathroom trips, who knows. Either way, it was a great night...

Chibi Okami for the DS, and three item five course meal challenge

2009-09-05T00:20:11Z

Seriously, just look at those pictures, just look at it.

kotaku.com/5352484/first-official-okamiden-screens-artwork/gallery/

Most people know I am still a big fan of Okami (PS2 version, not the Wii port) since it was first unveiled. As excited as I am for a new entry, the cute-moe-ness of it all kind of makes me weary of getting it. I mean, it'd be like playing with Okami's puppies, and, that in itself, is still trying to wrap itself around my mind...

Secondly, you know those three item challenges that I do for Tom Lin Project? Any cooks want to throw their hats in for a challenge? I'm trying to get as many cooks as possible and see if I can make a big marathon out of it. The idea is this, some guest will choose three items, and we'll all somehow cook a five course meal out of it. We'll draw it out of a hat, of course, so that it's more challenging, and since I have basically the whole week off next week (Starting Sun, ending Sat), I might as well make the best of it. Five course meal consists of soup, salad, appetizer, main course, and dessert. Depending on how many cooks I get, the course may vary, but that's pretty much the basic gist of it all.

Either way, enjoy the cute, sacharine Okamiden pics...

JAM Project #9

2009-08-13T05:35:18Z

What the title says? This is the first of the reboots I did for the JAM Project, in where they were all written and planned in a way that it only required one person to shoot the entire thing, since getting the staff and cast together has been a much harder trial than actually writing and planning the challenges out. Anyway, always open to anybody wanting to join for the shooting, it would help me actually catch up and start writing other ones with more than one people in it films...

P4 hilarious comic

2009-08-04T21:05:15Z

http://hiimdaisy.livejournal.com/26044.html

Pretty much making fun of the beginning of P4, which is hilarious. And if you don't know what is P4, maybe you shouldn't read the spoilers that may ruin your playing of the beginning of the game...

Maybe substance...

2009-08-02T16:30:29Z

Food stuff for those of you who wanted food-stuff related stuff. Now some pics of me just taking self-portrait with myself 'cause I was tipsy drunk. I think that counts as substance and blog-related, right? Good enough for an update. Anyway, I dressed up since my friend's art was being shown in a gallery, and I didn't want to look like a bum going in, so I figured I would dress up, but didn't want to look too formal, so it just ended up in me dressed up my formal informal look. Here ya go, peeps, have fun!

Potato-crusted salmon

2009-08-02T16:23:55Z

Yeah, for some reason, people actually read this, and yeah, for some reason, they said that I needed to post more food-related stuff, like actual photos and stuff. I thought it was funny, because, well, I haven't really posted anything of substance at all, since the blog has pretty much been nothing but Eat Columbus and Tom Lin Project stuff. Well, there is some story and short films too, but still, mostly food stuff. Anyway, since I was cooking food anyway, here's some photos of it, and a recipe of how I did it.

Here's your food stuff, peeps...

Potato-crusted Salmon

Ingredients:
1 slab of salmon
olive oil
salt and pepper
rosemary leaves
fresh lemon
1 large potato
chopped garlic
white wine
butter
aluminum baking sheet
PAM (Or any other non-stick spray)

1. Salt, pepper and rosemary a side of the salmon, and then smear olive oil on it to keep the ingredients on the fish. Repeat for the other side. This will also help the fish not stick to the baking sheet.
2. Spray PAM on the aluminum baking sheet before placing fish on it, place the salmon skin side down. Squeeze some fresh lemon juice on the side up of the salmon.
3. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Take the large potato, slice it as thick as you want (As long as you get enough to cover the salmon, and if not enough, go get another potato for it)
4. Salt, pepper and rosemary top of the potato crust, along with some squeezed lemon juice and chopped garlic (You can skip garlic if you hate it). Slice like 3 to 4 slices of butter and place it equally distanced on the crust.
5. Wrap the salmon up in baking sheet, covering the entire fish with the sheet, and then wrap both sides to seal the salmon in basically a bag. Place it on baking pan and cook it in the oven for about 10 minutes.
6. Turn the baking pan around, and then turn the oven temperature up to broil. Cook for about 3-5 minutes.
7. Close the temperature up, and let the salmon sit in the oven for about 5 minutes.
8. Squeeze some more lemon juice if you want, and you can always add more salt and pepper. Enjoy!

Tom Lin Project: Fried dumpling pansit

2009-07-31T18:25:17Z

Just what the title says? There was a great joke I had to cut out of the film because it just killed the flow of the clip itself. What happened is that my friend Nandang came over as I was finishing up the pansit, in where he asked "What are you cooking?", to which I replied "Pansit... Your shit... Your shit on the pan..."

Yeah, yeah, quite juvenile, but it's me making jokes, which means no high brow classy jokes there...

Whisper Diaries #1

2009-07-29T19:38:31Z

Yeah, #2 came out before #1, but that's cool, right? I mean, they all go towards promoting a film that may never be made, so it's cool, heh...

I guess the first part of the film could be used as a companion to Chu's own music video, since the idea was conceptualized and footage shot at that time...

Tom Lin Project: Chicken udon

2009-07-18T14:31:27Z

What the title said. I ate only a bag of peanut m&ms and a pickled egg yesterday, and then went out drinking with the bachelor getting married today, not to mention two glasses of my own spiked punch beforehand. Is that normal? Is my body telling me something? Maybe a trip to waffle house will cure the blues...

Tom Lin Project: Fried tofu

2009-07-17T07:10:53Z

What the title said. Pretty simple challenge (I think by Chu, but not very sure about it). Either way, have fun!

Jam Project challenge

2009-07-14T04:04:57Z

Since I've been doing a lot of Jam Project challenges (All of them by Mbr, all of them written as a one man project), I figured I'll just post them all together. I'll shoot them all when I have time and am done editing all the Eat Columbus and Tom Lin Project footage (Yes, main reason I haven't filmed anything at all). In the meantime, here's the stories. Still, that being said, anybody interested in a JAM session this friday? Since I'm off and all (No Sat though, since I gotta go to a wedding, but may be free on Sun and Mon if we need an extension on day)

Title: Baptism in dragon's blood

Word: impartiality

Baptism in dragon's blood

The message came through, blinking on the messenger window, begging for his attention.

“It’s been long,” it said. “I have been waiting long for you to contact me.”

Smiling, Heath watched it with an amused eye, letting the moment soak in before he lifted himself to type in the reply, to type in the words that the sender had been waiting for.

“I thought a bit of suspense would help the drama unfold,” he typed. “Why not enjoy the moment because the end just finishes all too fast?”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS, YOU BASTARD!” I came in capital letters, all of it, as if the sender was trying to convey his anger, his frustration, his incompetence. “WHERE IS MY WIFE!”

“Let’s not rush this, for it would just make it all too boring.” He paused, imagining the screaming and yelling that must be occurring on the other side of the web. “Too trite, as they say.”

It took a bit before he replied, it took a bit longer than Heath liked.

“I have your money.” The reply read. “It is all set up and stuffed in the correct amounts in the ten bags you described in your ransom.

“It is all according to your instructions.”

Drinking his martini in the afternoon, celebration in the best form possible, Heath had to stop himself from laughing when the sender asked “Please let my wife go.

“Please let my Mariam go.

“She’s all that I have.”

Typing calmly, impartiality smiling, Heath calmly typed in “She’s safe, and she’ll be let go as soon as I get my money.”

Closing the window, cutting the connection, the screen was cleared.

That is, until the email alert arrived.

Taking another sip of his glass, he smiled knowingly as he opened the email.

“I’m back here at the hotel,” the email read. “I’m all wet and naked and all ready to be taken in by you. I can’t wait to leave all of this boredom behind and travel the world with you.

XOXO,

Mariam.”

Laughing, Heath started the reply, typing:

“You wouldn’t believe the things your husband typed.”

Title: Tomorrow, or die trying
word: sanitary

Tomorrow, or die trying

Staring out the window, his eyes darting left and right, as fast as he could, as slow as he wished he wasn’t, he tried finding the sniper, the killer, the one who had already taken some shots at him beforehand.

The phone rang, the text message got through, teasing, saying “I see you, little piggy”.

Texting, “she can only live so long without air inside the trunk”.

Laughing, probably, that “the smoke will probably kill her if you don’t help her save herself from the trap.
“If you don’t save her from getting killed by me.”

Letting out a long, deep breath, Raiz raised his gun and peeked out the corner of his hideout again, moving from the window to the little peek hole above the entrance door, before running back to the window again.

He couldn’t see any reflective surfaces from the sniper’s glass, no people peeking out from the buildings and cars and junk lying around in front of the house.

Gasping out in surprise, the text came again.

“You don’t have any more time, Raiz.

“You can’t save her if you just hide inside the whole time.

“It is sanitary to just not touch anything, to just let her die, to not have any connections at all.

“But really, can you really let it go like that?

“Can you really be at peace to know that an innocent life has been erased from Earth because of you?

“Because you were just too chicken to come on out and just face me?”

Looking out, but finding nothing, Raiz grunted in frustration and closed his eyes, hoping it could all go away, wishing that he hadn’t gotten involved with everything in the first place.

But it was too late, it had already happened, nothing could change the fact.

“I am waiting.” Was the final message, the final call.

He reached for the door knob and twisted open the door.

title: serenading in the moonlight
word: ukulele

serenading in the moonlight

Playing his electric guitar, the pick barely held well in his hands, he stroke the strings in fast repetition, one after another, the noises amounting to nothing more than annoyance.

Breathing hard, more from his mental stress than the one caused by his guitar playing, he wished he had an ukulele, for at least it wouldn’t sound so hurtful, so depressed.

His leg resting on the window sill, the moonlight seeping in from the streets, he looked out at it, unsure what to say, what to think, what to anything.

In the silence of it all, his pick unconsciously played another string, another song.

Picking a few strings, here and there, the song somewhere hidden in the tunes, he sang “Sooner or later, alligator, I’ll go, and find a reason.

“For us to change our minds and figure out, a way to go on, and…”

And just like that, the strings stopped.

Looking out in silence, holding the guitar in silence, he tried to absorb the moment into something that he wished it was.

Taking out his cell phone, staring at it, he had a notion somewhere that maybe he could call, that maybe…

Just maybe…

Just abruptly as the idea came, he left it, flinging it across the room, away, far away from him.

Picking his strings again, he began, he sang.

“Sooner or later, alligator, I’ll go, and find a reason…”

title: Too soon to cry
word: seppuku

Too soon to cry

Dear Anna,

By the time you read this letter, I hope I’m already gone, I’m already away and not existing around to block your way to a better future, a much, much brighter future.

I’m sorry for all the pain and regrets I’ve caused you to have in these later days, I’m sorry that I’ve not been as great of a boyfriend as I could have been.

The truth is, Anna, I do love you with all of my heart, I do love you with more than I could ever have shown, more than any of the words I could have given you.

I was not a bright man, as you know in your heart, and I’ve done many mistakes that ended up in the way we are now, hurting you, disappointing you in ways that nobody could have in a million, billion years.

I know that even seppuku won’t cause me enough pain to justify for the one that I’ve caused on you, I know that nothing I could ever do could ever hurt me as much as it will ever hurt you, because what I’ve done seems like it will remain with you, forever.

But I don’t want that, I want you to forget it all and lead a better life, because that is something that I’ve always wanted to do for you, that’s always something that I’ve always wished upon you.

When you read this letter, I hope you can forgive me for all of my sins.

When you read this letter, I hope you can live a much happier life.

Love, forever,

Trevor.

Title: No reason to leave
word: hysterical

No reason to leave

Huddled in the corner of the room, in the dark, only a spilled over lamp shone its light through the darkness, enough for Lece to see himself, enough to keep Lece away from the darkness.

Someone screamed out in the darkness, outside his door, outside the little crack that he peeked into the outside hallway. It went on and on, as if taunting him, as if trying all they can to keep him in there. Different sounds, different screams, different voices that babble on, ignoring him, moving on from left to right, past the door, past him.

He might just be hysterical, he might just be insane, yet the voices went on, on and on.

He tried peeking out, out of desperation, out of fear, and he saw a light, like a flashlight, a beam going back and forth, up and down, as if searching for something, as if looking for someone.

He almost screamed when the figure passed by.

The figure stopped, as if hearing Lece’s thoughts, his almost scream.

Unable to move, unable to do anything, Lece remained in his fearful stance, his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide and unable to look away.

The figure looked at the crack and directly at him.

The figure’s eyes and nose were blocked by a band of a sort, some kind of bandana that kept his identity from being seen.

Lece couldn’t help himself from gasping when the figure’s lips parted, when the figure’s teeth showed in a crooked smile.

The darkness arrived way before he could even scream.

Reverie

2009-07-08T02:35:24Z

Although it was shot before "Echoes", and the first section was shot months before filming the second part, I wasn't able to really get it all together till now. Hopefully it works out well and people like it, since most of the new JAM Projects will be shot as "One Man Film Productions", until cast can be got to film the previous ones. EIther way, enjoy!

Short story challenges

2009-07-06T04:19:55Z

Since I did so much in the last few days, I figured I might as well just post them all instead of one by one as soon as I finished them on the forum. Here's the ones I've finished.

Alice:

Title: The World's End
Word: jelly

The World's End

Smothering strawberry jam jelly on his small slice of French loaf bread, the way they used to do back when she was still alive. They used to just wait out rainy days and watch the clouds go by, her soft, slender legs touching his, the wooden floor bare with nothing but their warmth.

As the earth started to crumble in front of him, first the mountains, those peaks he used to see every day, slowly sinking down underground until it couldn’t been seen anymore, and then the desert before it started falling, the sand falling down in such a continuous rate, that it reminded him of the waves of the ocean, when oceans still existed, when Earth didn’t start imploding upon itself, sucking everything in due to the black hole created by a curiosity in silence, one that will probably, eventually, suck the whole solar system in, maybe even the whole universe itself, if given enough time and chance.

But, still, even with the world ending in the way it was, he still couldn’t get her off of his mind.
Her last words were to keep smiling, to keep laughing and believing that with everything down, there must be an up, there must be a rainbow at the end of every rain.

Chewing on the piece of bread, the strawberry flavor swiveling on his tongue, he smiled.

Everything that begins must eventually end, but that doesn’t mean that it all have to be miserable when it ends.

Zyvienna:

Ooo~! You're good - ok, ok, I also have one for you "Manual Guide (into an): Assasin's World" - word to use...uhh...let's see..."Trigger"

I want action! Whenever you're ready.

Manual Guide (into an): Assasin's World

The click resonated through the empty art gallery, announcing to himself and the bastard just a few feet down the hallway that he had reloaded new clips into both of his guns, telling the other guy that unreturned shooting range time had ended again.

“You know that everyone has a trigger inside of them,” that bastard yelled, his voice echoing on the now almost empty gallery, the picture frames all shot up or already crashed on the floor, the statues all shattered into pieces and huge dents, even the walls and columns are full of bullet holes from the gunfight itself. “Everyone has something inside them that makes them able to perform things that nobody else could have believed you could do.”

“Really?” I screamed, as I blindly shot towards the column he hid behind, as I quickly shuffled myself onto another column across from it. “Tell me more.”

He laughed at it, knowing pretty well what I was trying to do. “What we do is not that unusual, you know? It just another job. Another way to pay a bill. Another way to survive.”

“Right.” I blind shot again, jumping in closer to him.

“It is just the way the world works.” He continued. “We have to kill a living organism in order to live ourselves, so if you think about it this way, this is really not that much different at all.”

“So what you’re saying is that this is normal?”

“Yes.” He said. “As long as you can accept that, you’ll be fine, everything you do will be fine.”

“That’s bullocks, you know that?” I said, spinning out, shooting towards him.

“I know, but it makes it all sound so much better.” He smiled, spinning out of his own cover, blind shooting as he tried to get closer himself.

shesilia_agnesti:

wonderful...

okay here it comes...

title : root of insanity
word: simple

Root of insanity

It is quite easy, quite simple, indeed. You just kind of take a man or woman, either gender can be as easily bend, help them to reach the goals and dreams and all the things they ever wished for, all the beauty that the world can offer if it tried, if it wanted, if it could.

Give them that, let them enjoy and roll themselves in all the joy that they could get, that they could absorb, and watch them at the happiest moment of their lives, at the best that they could offer, the best anybody could offer.

And that’s all that you need, all the first half of the whole fun.

Just like all the best of jokes, it takes a while to set up, to get the momentum, to get the audience all riled up.

Before they could realize what had happened, before they could figure out where they were really at in that moment in their lives, you take it all away, you destroy everything they thought they had, everything they believed held.

You can smile at the moment, maliciously, benignly, whatever creeps those lips up into a curl of satisfaction.
And with that, you move on, to the next one, and the next one, and the next one again and again.

This is how you break mankind.

This is how you reach to the root of insanity.

Mbr:

Title: Made not to care
Word: sentimental

Made not to care

Feeling sentimental, even though he knew he shouldn’t, Mark felt weird.

He shouldn’t be feeling that way, because of all the chemicals that should have been leveling even his emotions, because of all the neutral colors and feng-shui items placed around in his environment, because of all the therapy that should have cured it all these years ago.

Yet when the song came on, the one they used to hate, the one whose video used to be plastered all over MTV and any music video show on television, he remembered, he felt something beating inside his heart.

He had forgotten her name, he had forgotten even what her face used to look like.

She was there, somewhere, somehow, yet he could not recall the way she used to be, the way she used to sound, the way she smelled when they awoke naked on Sunday mornings.

Feeling his breath taken away, he didn’t really know why, he wasn’t even sure why he felt sad, lost, forgotten.

In those seconds, as the chorus of the song went on, the backup singers tuning in symphony with the main singer, he could feel the tears somehow escape from inside of his eyes, somehow slip its way down near his nose, somehow blend its salty taste onto his lips.

That’s when he knew, that’s when he broke down.

All the memories shouldn’t have cared.

shesilia_agnesti:

Title: Hurting each other
Word: friendship

Hurting each other

Grace looked around nervously, her head swiveling back and forward between the windshield to the side windows to the back, as Trent felt the sparks as he tried to hotwire the car, these old models easier to break into than the newer ones, yet still hard enough for the amateurish hands that he held.

“Hurry up,” Grace almost screamed, her fear evident in her tone. “Hurry, hurry, hurry!”

“It’s not like I’m sitting around sipping tea, you know?” Trent retaliated as the engine finally roared into life, sputtering as if choking on its intake of fuel and oil.

Sputtering the tires into gear, Trent twirled the wheel with no effort.

If it wasn’t for their long history friendship, Trent would have already ran away and refused Grace’s crazy plan, her crazy way to get back at the government, her own crazy way to show her alliance to the rebellion group.

With the remote controlled detonator beeping its red light in the back seat, Grace looked at the rearview mirror nervously, fear gasping as she asked “you sure nobody followed us?”

Breathing “you sure everything is alright?”

Trent shrugged and just calmly drove the car around the streets.

“So what are you going to do when this is over?” He asked, his tone and emotion not changing.

“Don’t know.” She answered. “Is there ever a plan conceived for after the plan?”

Trent smiled. This was the way she was.

The bomb blinked on, they drove closer to their destination.

She was the spark that led to his evolution.

Mbr:

Title: iPhone, gold or silver?
Word: constitution

iPhone, gold or silver?

Jake hated iphones, he hated seeing them around in everyone’s hands, as if one’s constitution were based on whether you had one or not, as if everyone’s soul was connected to one and we were all leashed by it through its porcelain white headphones.

Now it got even worse, as they started releasing the upgraded, premium versions of the iphones. Gold and silver, the ones for the selected ones, the ones for those rich enough to afford its high tag of over a thousand dollars for one.

They were worth it, he guessed, if you were into that sort of things, for the iphones were made with a heart of gold or silver, depending on the version that you got, and that heart would actually beat if you chose it to do so, pumping on and on as if it were alive, as if it were trying to deceive you into believing that it was alive, a pet, something that wanted to become someone.

Feeling curious, he eventually waited around till he saw one, one carried by some wanna-be hip guy with a scarf in the ninety-two degree afternoon, walking around displaying it as if he held the power of the universe in his hands.

He wasn’t so powerful when Jake beat him up in a small alleyway on the side of the street, taking the iphone and running away from the victim.

When he was finally away, Jake tore the cursed apparatus and tried to take the heart out.

That’s when he realized why the iphones were so expensive.

Inside the iphone, there was an actual heart of an animal, the fake silicone blood pumping through the circuit arteries and veins, the green color of it almost enough to make Jake puke.

In order to make something into gold or silver, they tore the heart out and kept its soul in a case.

In order for us to make something gold, we sacrificed a life just to see it beat to our rhythm.

shesilia_agnesti:

how bout
title : sunflower beside my head
word: capacity

Sunflower beside my head

The wind blew through her hair as the car flew through the last tunnel of the road, the one that felt the longest because it was the only one of the tunnels without a light in it. It always felt like going into deep sleep when they drove through it, without lights on, plunging into a darkness that was darker than the night that had preceded and succeeded it.

When the light hit them, at the end of the tunnel, as it momentarily blinded them, reminded them that they were still awake, that they were still alive, they would always rub their eyes as if they were just waking up, as if the day had just came by.

He sucked the blood that had dropped from her thumb, a cut accidentally when she tried to snap down the sunflower outside their garden, their ex-garden, their ex-house.

When you have nothing else in this world that could be used to keep a roof on yourself, you run and leave everything behind.

She smiled with her eyes closed as he did so, her blood tasting sweet and salty, like cherry syrup mixed accidentally with a pinch of salt.

She laid the sunflower between them, she said that they’ll eventually eat the seeds when they need them, that the sun that the flower had absorbed to full capacity would liberate them from their depression, just like a sunlight piercing through the gray rain clouds.

She felt the wind through her widespread hands.

Mbr:

Title: last wizard of Alaska
word: inflation

Last wizard of Alaska

With the inflation of the cash bills pumped into the economy in order to boost economy itself, people seemed to have gone back to the way their lives were before they were laid off work, before they were losing their jobs and unable to find any, before they realized that life truly, truly sucked.

It was as if nothing had happened at all, it was as if they’d either already forgotten about it, or had just pretended that it had never existed in the first place.

People drove their cars even though it was ten dollars a gallon. People bought milk that were almost twenty dollars per gallon. People drank and ate their life away at restaurants every night and noon and whenever hunger stroke them.

The only thing people didn’t seem to get back to, was playing wizards and dragons at the University of Alaska, a club that once had an almost fledging number of members, almost close to fifty.

Most of them left Alaska once they realized that the money was elsewhere, most of them left the club when they were forced to work at jobs they hated because their parents had run out of funds.

Looking at the empty room, waiting in his costume, the president of the empty club sat down on a hard folding chair, waiting, hoping.

Maybe, just maybe, someone would come in and play dragon to his wizard character, play a threat against his magical prowess.

Maybe, just maybe, he won’t be the last one waiting in the room when this all ends.

Wildpenguin17:

here is my challenge to you--
title: Where is Japan?
word: bottle

Where is Japan?

Floating around in the glass bottle, looking over the little circular opening at the top, Luther the roach wondered how much longer it would take for him to finally reach Japan. He was on the movies and television shows those giants played and saw the wonders and different cuisines that he could be enjoying if he was just scattering around the sinks and kitchens here and there in the land of the rising Sun, yet he really didn’t know how far it was to even get to that country, or how much longer he could hold up.

He had horded as much food and droplets of water that he could find, loading it into an empty glass jug that used to contain wheat beer, before waiting for the rain to wash up and dump him into the storm drains, which eventually met the river, washing out to the sea in a day or so. It had been a wonderful trip with great sights that he’d never seen before, but once he reached the sea and went past the shores and the pecking crazy sea gulls, the sights had disappeared and all that he could see was waves and waves of ocean, the sun and the sky and nothing else.

Still, he was sure Japan was there somewhere, that he would eventually reach it if he stayed longer.
Just a little longer.

He just had to try.

Tom Lin Project: Beef short ribs, mushrooms and pineapple challenge

2009-06-29T19:11:36Z

What title says, I guess? I think I enjoy these type of surprise challenges than the ones I've done usually (You know, just cook dishes people challenge me to cook?). There's something about spontaneous cooking that makes it all much more enjoyable...

And yes, I still can't cook, I just act very well as one...

Short story challenge

2009-06-21T18:09:42Z

Mbr's challenge:
Title: Greatest Mistake in Heaven
Word: platypus

Looking at it with a cocked eye, Philly couldn’t help but have the most confused look in his life, as the conveyor belt continued rolling along with things here and there.

He was confused, he was afraid, he must have done something wrong.

The thing, the furry mammal with the duck’s flat beak, looked at him with confused puppy eyes, the animal’s flat tail trying to wag as if it was a dog, a dog whose tail had just been flattened by a big truck’s tire.

It was cute, in a way, but quite confusing.

The webbed toes wiggled as the animal tried to find ground, or maybe water, or whatever it was supposed to be.

Scared that he’d lose his job, since this wasn’t the first time Philly screwed up a product, he grabbed the freakish animal and stuffed it in his meal cooler bag, and hid it in his locker until the whistle of the industry blew their release.

Walking out, afraid to be stopped at any time, Philly quickened his pace as his mind raced along, probably at a much faster speed than what his quick walk was doing.

He couldn’t let people find out, Jehovah would be pissed off if he found out he wasted organic material making mistakes again, even the angel managers would frown at his mistake.

Stopping in front of the storm drain, Philly grabbed the creature out and looked at it again.

“Platypus.” He cursed in disgust in his native tongue, and flung the creature down the storm drain.

The creature will eventually be led onto earth’s surface by the twist and maze of pipes, where hopefully, God will just think that he forgot about it and was something that was in his design, somehow.

Writing challenge returns

2009-06-18T05:31:21Z

This one from forum user "Chibi":

Title:Days that Never Were
word:unshed

Staring at her staring at him, he wondered what she thought or why she still came here, longing, maybe lusting, after someone he never were.

It was in the days when they used to learn that he met her, back a little longer than when they were now. She was a bit older than him, already out of school, already experienced in the ways of life. Him, not so much, more unsure than anything else, more afraid than anything else.

She used to say that she missed the innocence of life, the way kids just sway in and out of their own emotions, their own pasts.

Her tears unshed, their lips closed, they just sat close to each other, not close enough to feel each other’s warmth, yet not far enough to be embraced by the cold of loneliness.

She said that she felt like sh!t today.

He said that it just wasn’t cool and hip to feel like sh!t these days.

In the long seconds that passed, silence split between them, an invisible barrier that was just a bit too visible for them both.

Finally getting up, he asked her if he would see her again. She smiled and just nodded her head, not meaning it, not knowing it for sure.

The days faded by and night fell between them both.

Tom Lin Project Desserts: White wine cake with grapes

2009-06-10T07:10:42Z

What the title says. Really great cake to go with summer and spring, specially if you got a chill glass of white wine or fruitier wine. Check it out.

Tom Lin Project Desserts: Chocolate stout cake with Irish cream frosting

2009-06-10T03:01:58Z

This was supposed to be the premier episode of Tom Lin Project Desserts, since, uh, I never baked or even made a dessert before this, but hey, it's cool, finally found it, dug it up, and edited it. It's all cool. It's actually a great cake for anybody who likes chocolate cakes, since the stout actually does add richness to the chocolate. Try it out, seriously, and, uh, I guess you can try out the 'car bomb' too. Props to Charlie for getting me addicted to it...

Reasons LBP keeps sucking money away from my wallet...

2009-06-08T16:39:12Z

First it was Killzone, MGS, Street Fighter and then Judge Dredd. Now it's the team ICO downloadable. It's kind of hard not to want to play as ICO blasting through the Contra levels along with Ryu...

10.5, a novel by Tom Lin

2009-06-07T00:54:17Z

-0.5

Flash backwards.

Just an hour or so back.

The phone message said that he was already in the airport, waiting for me, the ticket ready to be printed off and the plane already fueling for our departure.

My departure.

Flipping the phone shut, hard, angrily, she looked at me briefly as she spun the driving wheel into a turn, the tires screeching, barely holding onto the wet cut-stone road that we were sliding across, as she asked “should I even ask?” with barely parted lips, the pale bright pink of her lipstick forming waves in the blur of the speed we were in.

The cops were not far behind, the sirens now echoing as loudly as a public announcement through a supermarket in London, announcing their sales of apple juices and sales on aisle four, the pre-packaged section for easy, mindless consuming.

Taking a quick peak back, I saw nothing as she zoomed between uneven lanes of parked cars, the surprised stares of people as their mouths were left open involuntarily from our speed, our careless flash through the boring flow of life.

“Daze said that I should be heading towards the airport now.” I said, casually, as if it was the most normal thing that had escaped my lips today.

She didn’t take it as calmly as I did, looking at me with a surprised look, her eyelids spread so far apart from each other, her face stretching as if I had just told her that she was pregnant, that our last night fling had ended in a splitting molecular embryo inside of her.

“What did you just now said?” She asked, in a voice that sounded more like a screech than anything else, and this was after she stuttered the words a bit in her mouth, after her mind was jumbling together what she wanted to say after her initial shock.

“Take me to the airport.” I said, firmly, as I looked back towards our front again, flipping the phone open to get online and check through mapquest for the routes around our location and there.

She kept looking at me, and not at the road, which worried me a bit. Going through a stone road in suburbia at over 100 mph is not the perfect time to not look at the road.

“When did you talk to Daze?” She almost screamed, as if she couldn’t believe in her own words, as if she could believe even less in my own.

“He just texted me, like a minute ago.”

“And when were you going to tell me this?”

“I just did, like, almost a minute ago.”

The sirens sounded closer, and some chopper action could be heard brup-brapping in the air.

Finding what I wanted in the maps of the roads, I looked up and around as much as I could as I caught the names of the streets on signs here and there.

“And why would you listen to him now?” She screamed, again, as if her voice hadn’t been loud enough, she had to crank it up to eleven. “He is the one who’s trying to kill y-“

“Turn right here, now.” I said, as quickly as I could, cutting whatever she was saying that I wasn’t paying attention to, reaching my left hand over as I held onto the wheel, just a little bit lower than where her right hand was holding, and turned it hard onto the right road, the right direction. “We gotta get out of sight before the choppers find us in their spotlights.”

I know the ‘spotlights’ part didn’t make sense, since it was only about one in the afternoon, and the light of the sun was just too bright for any lights to be shone on us, but it just came out that way, it just came out like that.

The sudden jerk of the car pulled her towards me, her head smashing onto mine as a hurtful ‘ouch!’ rose from her throat, involuntarily, the car as unsteady as the way our ride had been. The speed slowed down a bit as her foot lifted a little from the sudden surprise carjacking I had just done, yet pressed full down once again as soon as the car was ready to go onto a straight line again.

She smelled like last night, in that little moment in where we were close to each other again, her rose petal, vanilla glazed scent enticing me for a second away from what we were doing before she pulled away again, back to her side, back away.

“You didn’t had to do that, ya bastard!” She protested once she had control of the car again, once I let go of the wheel, once I let her go.

“You would have missed the turn.”

“I could have turned if you had told me ahead of time!”

“There was no time.” I replied, as I pointed to a parking garage coming up on our left. “Turn into there, before we get spotted.”

“Wha-?” She asked, confused, as I grabbed the wheel once again and pulled us forcefully from our linear drive.

She cursed and cursed, at me, as we pulled to the third floor underground and parked right next to a dirt-covered red soccer mom van, the kind that looked too square to be anything but a lazy design.

Jumping straight out of the car, in such a hurry that I heard the scratching sound my door made against the van parked next to us, she had only opened the door when I reached her side, and, without a warning, without her even ready to look out yet, I reached my head in and linked my lips to hers, just barely, just hard pressing, just out of breath as we both traded what CO2 we had left over inside our lungs, as my eyes closed hard to try to blank out any other senses except the one that were felt, the ones that I wanted to feel.

I kept slipping away.

Leaving her, pulling myself away, her look one compared to a puppy who just had her favorite treat taken away, I reached inside my pocket and pulled out everything I had, all the bills that equated to over one hundred thousand dollars, asking her to “just take the money and hide with a relative somewhere”, I said “or just with a very good friend that you trust and can stay with till all this blows away”, she looked at me as my lips said “until I can figure out what I want to do next with all of this”.

Looking at me, squinting, she started to shake her head, a slow motion start like the ones you see on widows who had just found out that their husbands had died. She seemed like she wanted to say something, like some question was going to be formed, like some words were going to be voiced.

Giving her a forced smile, I just nodded and turned before anything else was said, before we stretched this moment longer than it had been, more than it needed to be, and ran, faster than I probably should have been able to, faster than I probably needed to be, away from her.

The taxi only took about four minutes to get to the airport, and another five minutes just to get through the serpentine lanes leading towards the terminal. I headed out of the taxi’s door as I pressed my thumb through the credit machine to pay the fare with my ‘reserved’ funds, leaving a minimum tip as I quickly typed the amount in.

Since I had nothing on me, literally, except for my cell phone, the security scan went through quickly and I was able to rush in with no problems. Texting quickly to Daze for his location, he quickly replied that he was starting to board on gate G6, down by the south section of the gigantic airport maze.

Leaping and bumping through the crowds of slow people slugging their way through with their multitude of luggage bags, I made it onto the escalator heading down to gate G6 as Daze was almost being checked by the security guards’ station, a person or two ahead of him.

With his tall height and beach-bum blond dreads, the bright surfer red oversized shirt and puffy big green shorts, a mismatched sharp and pressed tan suit jacket worn on top of all that, it was like Daze was just asking to be found, and, as if sensing my own judgement over his shameful compliment of clothes, he turned around and waved at me as soon as he saw my placement on the escalator, smiling as he put both his thumbs up in approval of something that only he could approve of.

“Stop!” I yelled, well, it would be more accurate as an attempt of yelling, as the words sort of stopped midway before completely uttered, as it was cut short as soon as I saw what was inside of Daze’s gift box.

He had pulled it up besides him, so that I could see it in plain sight above people’s head here and there, and as he was a magician performing a trick, he, ceremoniously, with waves and hand gestures centered around the gift box, lifted the lid of it open and showed me what was inside.

It was there. The same bomb that had blown up Lift before, the same design and the same clock, the same second hand ticking down and down and down, all around until it arrived to where it was again.

His thumbs lifted enthusiastically in approval again, he placed the lid back on again as he turned around with a satisfied smile on his face, the security guard now ready to check his only luggage, his gift box filled with ticking goodness.

I ran as soon as the people in front of me left the escalator, trying to reach Daze before he blew us all up, trying to reach him before the security guards found out what was inside, and a whole chaos descended upon us all.

But something happened, something I wasn’t expecting.

The security guard smiled and laughed as she looked inside the box, and then talked pleasantly with Daze without any fear in her eyes.

Confused, I slowed down as I slowly walked to the line already forming to board the plane, and tried to look as far as I could through to Daze.

She asked something, he nodded in response at something, and she reached into the gift box itself.

And that was when I saw what had happened.

I had forgotten Daze had the power to change people’s minds, to change their perception of something, to fool them with his own lies, and when the security guard raised the object out of the box, I was reminded of Daze’s powers when I saw what she was looking at now.

It was a picture frame, and on it, a picture of Daze with a kid, of about five years old, waving at the camera as they leaned together with Mickey Mouse, the Disneyland castle just close enough in the background to be seen on a whole. The perfect Kodak moment to a perfect childhood memory. So perfect that it made my tooth ache.

The line now moving close enough so that I could hear him, talking about how proud he was of his kid, how he had been on business so he hadn’t seen his kid for a few weeks, how this is probably the best way for him to express how much he loved him.

The security guard ate it all up, lapped it up and asked for seconds.

I could almost smell the vomit rising up my throat.

When I finally got through the check point, after being questioned for the umpteenth time about the reason why I was traveling with nothing but a cell phone, the security guards finally let me on before the plane left off, the last call now reaching the last second, and as the stewardess showed me towards my seat, it was pretty obvious I had been set up somehow, as the ticket set me up right next to Daze, his dentist-whitened smile popping up as soon as he saw me struggling through the tiny hallway between the seats.

“What took you so long, old buddy?” He almost laughed as I sat down next to him, somehow disgusted that I fell for the most obvious trap in the history of mankind.

“Apparently traveling light is now a travesty, not a commodity.” I replied with a forced smile, not sure if I was making sense at all.

Daze laughed at it as the stewardess came around to check that we all had our seat belts on, to see if everything to tie us down for safety were all safely tucked in.

The plane hadn’t left the strip yet and I was already feeling sick.

“Why here? Why the plane?” I asked as soon as the stewardess was out of earshot. “Let’s just get out of here and settle our little drama outside, away from all these people and all these kids.”

He smiled at that. “What, kids aren’t people no more?”

Grunting at my own little stupid mistake, I said “you know what I mean”, I continued “we can end this without having to involve all of them in this”.

He laughed at it, just like that, again. “What are you talking about!” He said, as if this was nothing at all. “I’m not involving them at all. I got no grudge against any of them.”

“Exactly.” I said. “That’s why we should just leave. We should just settle this on our own, away from all these innocent people.”

That laughter again. He was really enjoying himself. “No, no, no no no.” He shook his head along with his dreads, flipping them hard enough that it hurt when they hit my face. “I’m not involving them at all,” he smiled, laughing and chuckling still as he talked, letting me fume in silence as he said the next words:

“You are.”

Surprised, but not really at the same time, I struggled to ask “excuse me?” as Daze laughed at the confused expression that was stapled unto my face at the moment.

“Don’t you see?” He said, simply, as if it was the most logical thing said in the world so far. “The world does revolve around you at this moment, and these people’s lives are just the satellites that orbit around it as we chug along our plans.”

“No, not our plans. Yours.” I said, almost grunting in anger and frustration, the bass of my voice lowering so low that it would probably reverberate the plane if given the chance.

“Oh, really?” Daze smiled, amused still, even in the face of the danger of me pummeling his teeth in. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have a plan to reach your goal at all? To complete your mission.”

He asked “what were you going to do then? Run away? Leave this whole life behind with that call girl of yours? Take the rest of your 10.5 million dollars and run away to France or somewhere else romantic?”

Saying mostly to himself “what we do is already embedded in us, we can’t escape even if we wanted to.”

Smiling, he whispered through his teeth, “our own escape comes when we see the light beyond the heavens.”

Staring at him, I mean, really staring at him, with a stare so hard it would break diamonds, I said “you’re f*cking crazy”, the words escaping as bursts of air forcefully pushed through the slits of my teeth.

Staring back, with less intensity than the one I just gave him, he said “everyone reaches insanity before they crash through the beginning of their deaths.”

And just like that, without holding back anymore, as the plane rose itself to be leveled off as it cruised through the oceans below, I snapped my seat belt off and, in one single, smooth motion, punched towards Daze, landing the heavy fist right on his cheek, feeling his teeth crack as my knuckles dug deeper and deeper into his cheek.

As if well prepared, as if this had all been rehearsed before, he quickly countered with his right leg, even before my fist left his cheek, and kicked, as quickly as he could, towards my feet, the force so fast and unexpected, that the kick pushed my shoes towards a skid, and, since my center of gravity was already off due to the punch, made me fall hard, like, seriously hard, hard enough that my jaw slammed onto the passenger seat armrest, the metal kind, with such a force that it was heard through the entire plane, causing everyone to turn their heads and look, some afraid, some curious, but all looks were on me.

Before I could recover, well, even before my head finished its rebounding motion from the seat rest, Daze drew his arm back, and, in one quick and sudden motion, slugged his elbow right into my face, cracking my nose into thousand pieces, the blood bursting everywhere, my throat coughing as it tried to clear off the blood that fell to my esophagus, as the pain rushed to my brain and took it over.

Drawing his elbow up again, Daze smashed it right on top of my head, crushing it down further onto the armrest, slamming it as it held its place to lock my head onto it.

Amongst gasps of surprise and ‘ooohs’ of viewed pain, he asked, his voice clearly, “see what you made us do?” Smiling, crazily, happily, he said “we were just talking, calmly, civilized, and then you had to turn it into this.”

Coughing out blood still, I wasn’t able to say anything, my breath taken away by the pain and the shock, my lung barely able to keep any oxygen in as it coughed and coughed away.

Out there somewhere, a few or a dozen seats ahead of us, a few stewardesses and a pilot came down towards us, wearing his white shirt and aviation cap to show that he was commander of some kind of aviation ship. People turned briefly too see who they were when they passed by them, yet their attention quickly turned towards Daze and myself again, me locked in his elbow lock, him looking up with a smile as the pilot neared us by.

“Hey, fella, calm down.” The older man said, his white mustache not matching the color of his white shirt, strangely, as he held his hands up in the universal sign of ‘chill’.

“Great,” Daze sighed through his heavy breaths, his hand reaching into his jacket. “Now I gotta get more involved.”

And as they approached us, as their eyes widened, Daze pulled out a hand gun out of his pocket, make and model that I’m not sure of, since it’s hard to see with your head locked down on the seat rest, but the burst and bullets were loud enough as they pierced the pilot right on the chest, the blood bursting out as if it was from a juicy tomato, splashing in all directions as if someone had just taken the heart and squeezed it as hard as they could, until the membrane burst and everything inside just rushed out flying.

It took a few seconds before the first scream started, and after that it was just people freaking out, running and struggling as they tried to get away from us as quickly as they could, a few falling and stampeded to death, probably, as they rushed away and away, yet not too far. Since we were all contained in a small pod anyway. Since we’re all stuck together with each other anyway.

Bringing my own elbow up, I smashed Daze’s elbow away as hard as I could, hoping that it would take him off his balance as much as his kick did, yet it did no good, because as soon as my head started to rise, it was met with a hard blow from the gun, like, not the gun butt, but the barrel itself, as Daze just naturally rose the gun he had with him, and, without a moment wasted, slashed it down as hard as he could on me, almost knocking me completely out of my consciousness.

Standing up, as I was struggling just to keep conscious, Daze grabbed the neck of my shirt, and, with an effortless tug, threw me off my seat onto the hallway.

For some reason, someone screamed about it somewhere.

Dragging me along with him as he walked, slowly due to my almost dead weight, he struggled towards the cabin, his legs struggling, his gun raised in front of him, parting the crowds with it as if they were the red sea, and, just to make sure it keeps splitting, he would shoot whoever wasn’t moving, right on the spot, as if it was meant to be, as if it was all meant to be.

People acted like, well, scared people, running out of the way and struggling, climbing over each other, as they rushed away from us and to the other side of the plane, the only heroes on it already shot and bleeding to death on the floor, Death overlooking them as he dragged them along, ever so slowly, waiting around for the next victim to pile onto his carriage.

Still coughing, but trying to reach up to him, I felt that efforts weren’t really worth it, and that all I was doing was trying to prevent the inevitable. Daze will reach the cabin. Daze will control the plane, our fates dangling as he played around with it.

Knocking on the cabin’s locked door with his gun’s barrel, Daze waited a second or two before aiming at the lock, and, without a second’s hesitation, pulled the trigger and shattered whatever held the lock in place.

The noise of it shattering was loud, like ridiculously loud, enough to make all sound go away for a while, as my ear drums adjusted itself and tried to calm the screeching running around in my ears, yet nobody did anything, nobody tried to stop him. Even with their numbers easily towering the single man that was Daze, nobody did anything, they all just looked and cowered in fear.

The remaining pilot, looking straight in fear, frozen so stiff that it looked like he was trying to choke the flight control stick to death.

Raising his gun, Daze pointed and bumped the back of the pilot’s head with his barrel, saying “I’m pretty sure you already know what’s going on in there”, continuing “so let’s just cut the intro and go right into the point”, and, using his gun to point, he lifted it and just waved in a particular direction towards the skies and said “I need you to just keep going towards that way, you know?

“Just keep flying till we can’t fly no more.

“Just keep flying till our gas runs out.”

Laughing like a goofball, as soon as he said that, his gun shook dangerously over the lights and buttons on the cabin’s dashboard.

And without a second to waste, or even consider how dangerous this whole thing was, I slammed my head towards his jaw, crushing it as hard as my legs would let me lift towards it, and, with my left elbow, shot towards his arm, the one holding the gun, the one still waving around in shock.

The barrel shot out in surprise, the trigger squeezed by accident, and blood went splashing up on the cabin’s window, covering the sky that were once seen blue.

While the fact that the only person who could land this plane had just been shot should have shocked the both of us, it somehow didn’t, because as soon as I knocked Daze off of his feet with a hard hit from my shoulder, I turned around and ran as fast as I could back towards our seats, back to the ticking plastic piece of sh!t that were ticking down our doom, our absorption into a ball of fire.

Daze was shocked by what was basically just a couple of seconds worth of time, but he did not waste any time turning the barrel towards me, the bullet already leaving the barrel as it pointed towards me.

It should have hit me, for there was no way I could have avoided being shot since the only way to go through the plane’s alley was, well, straight, but the thing that slipped through both of our minds was the point that, well, we kind of blew the pilot’s brains out, and, in doing so, while the guy was still sitting straight on his seat as he was shot, neither of us really made sure that the cadaver would remain sitting straight, not leaning on the controls, plummeting the plane downwards, like he was now.

We probably knocked his body over, by accident, as I was freeing myself from Daze, but then again, it’s not like that was the priority at the time, for either of us. Mine was to reach the bomb, while Daze’s was to stop me from reaching the bomb.

People’s surprised scream as the plane fell towards the ocean should have been enough to knock us back to our sane senses. Yet it didn’t. Nothing did.

The bullet grazed me, a line scraped right through my cheek, as the plane turned its nose downwards, the sudden jolt knocking me off my feet, the sudden jolt knocking Daze’s aim off its mark.

Screaming a bit from the pain, as the spark and hole of the bullet formed immediately in front of me, I grunted a bit as I pulled myself back to my feet again, harder than said, due to the now steep incline of the plane, not to mention the sudden bumps up and down due to probably air pockets in the sky.

Daze was getting to his feet, as people who weren’t able to hold themselves right were now screamingly sliding down the aisles, their hands out, desperately trying to hold on to anything, anyone, and save themselves from having any contact with either of us.

While Daze should have maybe turned around and kept the pilot off the controls, maybe just kind of level us off so that we wouldn’t be plummeting to our doom, he did not. Getting up instead, he shot again.

The bullet ricocheted off the seat right next to me, as another pocket of air knocked me off my feet, almost causing me to slide towards Daze, something that might have happened had it not been for my hands instinctively reaching out and holding onto the seat rest next to me.

Daze grunted a frustration at the miss, and for the next one, he really stayed quiet and focused as he pointed at me, aimed at me, with all of his body’s concentration.

The plane was pretty much reaching to a point that we were probably closer to vertical than half horizontal, as people were sliding and falling off the top by accident, hitting themselves and getting knocked out as they hit the seat rests, or grabbing onto whoever was next to them, ending in them pulling them off from their grasp as well.

Daze aimed, and, instead of the loud blast that we were both prepared for, the almost quiet click of his trigger shooting an empty chamber that we barely heard replaced it instead.

He had run out of bullets, something that now him and I know, and, without any waste of time, Daze stared his steep climb towards me, throwing the gun away and just climbing and holding on as fast as he could.

But it was too late, I was already way ahead of him, dodging and avoiding the falling people by snaking in and out of the seats, using the seats as a foothold as I pulled myself row after row towards our destination, rising as fast as I could towards it.

This was when I wished life was like a videogame, so that you had a timer flashing right before you, and a chance to continue again in case you screw up.

As I was reaching up, as I was almost there, our time ran out.

The whole plane rumbled, and a strong force pulled us all towards the front of the cabin, as if a giant hand had just taken us and shook us hard, with as much force as it could muster.

Both me and Daze knew what had happened, the information flashing through our minds as quickly as we felt the force and were thrown off whatever hold we had, hitting the ceiling and bouncing towards the cabin again.

The plane had crashed, we had actually already reached from the heights to the sea, smacking into it as hard as metal could, an awesome splash that would have been great to watch from afar, but not participating into it as we did.

As soon as I felt my body near the seat again, I tried my hardest to grab onto it, instinctively, if you want to call it that, but it didn’t matter anymore.

The force of the crash was tearing the plane apart, the seams and screws and all being pulled apart as the deafening sound of hundreds of people screaming echoed inside the plane, before it tore apart and the sound waves escaped and intermixed with the loud boom and water splashing that we had caused on the sea.

Grabbing onto anything, trying to grab onto anything, I tried to keep myself conscious, yet the plane kept bouncing me around, knocking me on any surface it can reach, as if just tossing me around on purpose.

Everything fell apart, and Daze was lost somewhere, just like myself.

The plane probably tore itself to pieces through the crash, everything probably just tore itself apart as people here and there were flung out of the safety inside the plane.

I’m just guessing there. I’m not really sure about it or if it really happened that way, since I had already been knocked out by some blow to my head, by some hard object just slamming right into my skull.

I should have just stayed unconscious in the darkness a little bit longer.

JAM #8: Big boys cry alone

2009-06-02T21:43:26Z

Yeah, really retarded title, but I didn't make the title, I just take them and make JAM films out of them. This one came out great, probably due to the music by the Notwist, which somehow flowed thanks to edits...

JAM and story challenge by Mbr

2009-06-01T19:04:06Z

Considering that there's never any time to get the cast together for JAM sessions, the next few JAM challenges will be written with the intent of doing it as a one man production like 'Echoes' or 'Reverie' (Which I still need to record the voiceovers so that I can edit it). So challenge on, I guess? We'll figure out what to do with them, heh.

Mbr's JAM challenge: Title: Big boys cry alone
Word: sniper

Mbr's story challenge: Title: Windchime of western gate

Word: meteor

Big boys cry alone

Hanging around his room, his arms dangling around lifelessly, Raik swiveled around in his chair, his eyes blank, lost, consequence already taken his heart.

The envelope, half opened, half torn, lied on the desk in front of him. Her writing “To you” in large letters in front of the envelope, left behind when she left, on the bed right next to him, waiting, as he woke, and he realized.

Pacing the room, looking back at the envelope now and then, he looked out the window and sighed, wondering if the sunlight will warm him up any, if it will warm him up at all.

The hours went by, him still scared, still unsure, because every time he picked the envelope up, every time he looked at it, he felt a part of him break, he felt a part of him fall apart, a sniper right through the heart.

Always with the same result, always placing it back, he went back to the same spot by the window, stare out, stare back, and watch the hours pass by.

At the end, with a big sigh, he lifted the envelope, and, with his eyes closed, his forehead leaning on it as if will alleviate his pain better, he finally opened it, her letter, her voice.

He finally lifted the letter out of the envelope and started to read her words.

Windchime of western gate

At the gate that separated West and East Euphoria, the only thing connecting what used to be one whole country, before they erected the walls by the agreed-upon border, before they set up the immovable gate that only allowed families and friends to see each other through the bars that obscured their faces, their smiles and tears hidden behind shadows and space, she waited for him. He, who agreed to return to meet her like they used to do, who agreed to come back no matter what.

Humming along the slow rhythm that the windchime played, atop the gate, placed once as a hope that in a near future, the walls and gates will be separated and torn, and the ones split to either sides will be able to see each other again.

He said that the battle wouldn’t last too long, that the war can’t last too long.

When the meteor crashed and diamonds were found forming inside it, the fought for it rose between the different factions of the parties holding the government together. The right wanted to use it for war, while the left wanted to use it for scientific discoveries, neither willing to consent to each other’s thoughts.

He said he was being sent out along the squads designed to protect the meteor, he said that it would just be a routine round and he would be back to see her again.

The rumors had spread that other countries were invading them for the rare meteor, that other countries had found better ways to use it despite for diamonds.

And so, waiting, she pushed the thoughts out of her mind, day after day, week after week.

Singing, to herself, in case the stars wanted to sing along.