8th September 2013, 11:33 AM
...in a Bridge chapter of Aftershock, the only fic I've ever completed. I pretended that these 399 were the last words left in the world, and used them exactly and only them to create a new Bridge chapter. The things that have changed between the two are the arrangement of words, their capitalization, and their punctuation (the punctuation too is approximately conserved). Every time somebody posts something in this thread I will make another Bridge chapter, with the same rules. Please give this thread no attention (this one took 5+ hours of phrase-splitting). In a way I did okay, in another way I failed spectacularly.
Oh, and if bobandbill decides it ought to go in a different forum (or be closed) I will bow humbly.
Ah, death. Not of the other. Chance, cold and complete and comprehensible, swimming through the veins. It is enough to be, and meaningful to be mortal. Blood, brain, reason, bounds, blackness. Comprehension, comprehension, and life, pumping quietly into the system and should it require something related, something simmering, rain, reason, root, rings, this is external and it can assuredly be endured for all time. Understand, I don't know how life is lived. Understand, I have no fascination for a life without emotion, imperfections, struggle, pain, warmth, passions. I feel it, I feel it, I feel it, I felt it, I felt it, I felt it. I come complete. I have my own predestined portion. I exact my deathlike dreams over all my thoughts, and so influence your comprehension of all that that makes me live. How? Speech? speech is all adapting, speech is obscurity, speech is RANDOMNESS, so unhealthy, speech is death, speech... something strange that flared forth only to precede a thought, succeed thoughts. Thought? the vestiges of the anomaly of existence. No, their elevation, conscious but unessential, has hardly a continuation beyond the breath. Essence of fire and brimstone. What is it I do? What was it I did? And why?
Must I explain? Must my vehicle mean nothing? Inhale, my creatures emerge. Inhale, my parasite flames falling into its core. The parasite is just my word for the external fading, the external upheavals, luck, all the necessities. Within, I never think this tiny. The parasite, see, is just my grasp of myself. But there should succeed some backlash for me, underlying whip beyond the human encounters, odd of it not to. And I should know what external laws have been adapting me to the greater world. Adapting, now ended.
Where—Why should i play out at that angle, airiest of all, a true thing but no prolonged luck to the lif—luck?
Am I the only one then? And are the stars all around? Amazing!
IS GOD THERE? NO, NO BUT. IS IT ALL GOD? INSECT GOD, THE LAST UPSURGE AND THE GREATEST BEFORE THE DYING, THE FINAL END OF EVERYTHING.
A being, you hear? A god! Has—are, have you a breath to take? Explain, but exhale, explain, now exhale, exhale, and explain.
Do, there, my, there this this there, me me my of? There to... Was what I did to you, onto... what, me but—
Inhale, back away. Breathe.
This is the old Bridge:
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Breath is existence. Breath is lif—
I do not live. No blood warmth pain pumping through my veins. What is this? I have felt lived endured all, but never this. I feel only the airiest of emotion, I think without vehicle for my thoughts. i have felt all
What have I felt? Blackness and the stars emerge, fire, death, brimstone, THE FINAL UPSURGE BEFORE THE END, THE LAST AND GREATEST STRUGGLE OF THE DYING INSECT but the flared flames are fading back into cold, simmering obscurity, and what do I see, what is it there beyond the passions, what rings quietly but assuredly at my core—
Am I conscious now? I feel it, and I know it to be true. Deathlike creatures, swimming for me now Speech! Thought beyond me and my thoughts. I can hear their speech, and the external influence comprehensible adapting to comprehension of external speech, adapting to comprehension of external speech, adapting to comprehension of external speech… I understand this at the vestiges of my brain, hardly enough to grasp my thought onto.
I know you, I feel something within you, something related to your essence, and Is this the continuation of life, the mortal laws the bounds imperfections necessities falling away for all my dreams to come forth?
Ah, no. But how? Is it so?
Elevation into death over predestined encounters, strange being amazing. Why are there upheavals all around me? Chance makes me the rain god, and is it all luck? I don’t understand at all. Why must I be the odd one out, and how? Explain, explain, explain, explain.
It was all a play? A complete human life only a tiny, unessential portion of a greater system? Where is the reason, then? It has not ended, has it? I have been prolonged, and there must be reason underlying! Just my luck that the backlash of the anomaly should whip me at that exact angle, just my luck that the unhealthy fascination should take root, should precede my parasite and the parasite should succeed it? And you—it was a world of its own to me, a thing so meaningful and complete that there is no other word for it but life. Did it mean nothing? IS THERE NO GOD, NO GOD, EVERYTHING BUT A GOD? IS IT ALL RANDOMNESS?
I require some time to myself.
Faults in this revision:
From one angle the second-last paragraph is the one real thing I took away from this method, from another other angle it's just lame. I'll never use logorrhea as an excuse to dump the last leftover words again.
The parts where I wrote word by difficult word, rather than phrase by phrase.
The tendency to list interesting collections of words without close scrutiny into how they go together.
Sentences ("of all that makes me live", "speech is...") that are more about me ********ting than the words talking.
The horrible crush for words that started before I was halfway done, probably a consequence of making unbalanced sentences in the beginning. (Unbalanced sentences is not a fault, however, it just makes life harder.)
The way the structure is so closely formed around the method by which it was created, which is an artifact of my doing this for the first time, teaching myself how it's done and not yet able to erase my footprints as I go along. If I get better I will try to make something more 'coherent' once. Feel free to contribute faults of your own.
Last edited by Luphinid Silnaek; 9th September 2013 at 12:03 PM.