The Tragedy of Pearl Magnus
Pearl Magnuss was conceived by two time-travellers who were outside of their proper time-lines.
Everybody knows that when you time travel, you have to change your time-signature, otherwise the system would simply read your sig, and re-locate you to your proper temporal origin. Love is a mysterious thing, and sometimes it strikes when you least expect it. Love is kind of like fate: it works in mysterious ways. Anna Thompson and Cowbo'y Collumnbou are not immune to fate, love, or circumstance (or VD, but thankfully
that was not on their minds, otherwise a condom may have ended existence as we know it).
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Ah, two minutes is TOUGH. I can barely get out three paragraphs in 15 minutes! This may have been closer to five, but I got it out as fast as I could!
Mostly raw and unedited, except what I smoothed over as I was typing. But now that I'm not on the clock, please allow me to indulge in a little back story?
This is a *small* piece of a story that is very special to me.
Much like the Bad Writing game in Mallorys, when I was younger, a friend of mine and I used to sort of "compete" to write the best worst story we could. It really started from my desire to write "good" stories, which my friend would ridicule me for by writing "bad" stories that made fun of mine. And he was really good at it.
His were so good in a bad way, and so fucking funny, that I wanted to write bad stories in a good way. (Or maybe it's the other way around?
) Either way, it became a game for us to write stupid, funny stories, each trying to one-up the previous.
Anyhoo, long story short, before we fell out of that sort of thing (we were 19 at the time) we issued each other a mad libs sort of challenge. This was the last "challenge" we presented to each other. I never finished mine.
But something like five years later, I read what I had written, and a bomb went off in my head.
I finished the story in a flurry, and the end result was a not-quite-readable, dis-jointed ... eh, well, it wasn't "good" but maybe parts were? I mean, something like 25%-33% was supposed to be awful, and the rest a passion project that was never proof-read or perfected to presentability.
It was
satisfying, however.
It was a story that I had
finished. And ending a story feels
so good. I don't do it very often, but I did on this one.
I'm rambling, but fast-forward another five years or so. I am laying in bed, trying to fall asleep, thinking random thoughts....And another bomb goes off in my head. I suddenly understand why this stupid story that I started as a teenager meant so much to me.
I know my story.
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And that was years ago.
It's too important to me for me to actually ruin it by creating it. But I do write snippets from time to time. Here's a very snippety snippet. 15 mins is waaaay to scary, but maybe 2 can get something going.
Funny thing is, it seems whenever I try to work on something "serious", I always have to have two different serious projects going at once. I do have another project I am working on, but I've lost some of the material I've already constructed for it, and feel like I must have it back before I go forward with it.
So, here's a bit about Pearl (or, up ^there^, rather.).