Drawing the reader in....

BE WARNED THAT MY WORK IS PG-13 AND CONTAINS UNCENSORED VIOLENT MATERIAL AND LANGUAGE



I started a fanfiction in July that was intended to be a joke...something for my amusement. However, in late August, I decided to actually make a serious fanfiction and scrapped the project entirely. I'm not going to spoil the synopsis of the plot because the point of this is to keep the reader guessing and presenting information when it's needed. I also plan to do a silly fanfiction later.

I was mostly inspired by Paul S. Gibbs' Second in Command, which was told in first person. I thought that was really cool and unique how he was able to roleplay a kind of loving, but guilt-ridden character who has a lot of slilit happen to him. I read it a few more times recently and it's really gotten me in the mood. So I wanted to role play a kind of confused cynical depressive who doesn't quite know who he is, nor does he care. He's not trying to please anyone, he just wants something interesting to happen.

I'm also interested in NIMHmuck to help me out with this, though I'm sure that that no longer exists. I've been working on this since early September and I'm currently stuck on a dialogue sequence with the main character and his 'buddy.' I also haven't proofread any of it, so expect many grammatical errors. I do try and proofread as I go along, unlike the posts I make on these boards.

I want to know how well I've peeked your interest in my tale....How well I sucked you in to my world, which in this thriller-like story is my main goal.

So without further ado:

I wasn’t hungry….

Usually when people wake up they’re hungry, but not me. It doesn’t make any sense, really. I once could eat about seven fish tacos and still make room for whatever the chef in the dining hall called “dessert.” Usually said dessert consisted of some fruit dipped in crème. What the crème was made of….I wasn’t about to think about.

Sometimes I doubt that I even slept. Which would make the fact that I wasn’t hungry when I “woke up” make sense because I didn’t sleep. Actually it makes sense…..period. When you’re labeled as a terrorist not only by your own kind, but the kind that presumably created what you are, your thoughts are focused on survival, not on sugar plums dancing in your head.

I am a rat. No, a rat couldn’t, shouldn’t be able to do half or even any of crap I’ve done. Am I a monster, a mutant? I don’t know. Will God judge me like they do humans? Will I just disappear into oblivion because I have no soul, for I am an ‘animal’? Is there even a God at all? Worthless asking these questions really, I can’t do jack about it, and even if I could….wellurl==http://=http:///url pointless to think about that as well.

That virus……it was like a goldmine; a ticket out of my crappy and unfulfilling existence. The humans might call me ‘emo’ and I guess they would be right. Who would want to hang out with me? Well, not counting my two other terrorist ‘buddies’ as I would like to call them. One of them was a rat and the other a mouse. The mouse was a very interesting case; his mother was a normal field mouse and his father a…well mutant freak from the depths of an old man’s science experiment. Normally we would call such people “mixed-blood” or “half-cooked.” However this mouse was very seldom called that because his parents were the heroes of our mutant freak people. His father was responsible for the escape from NIMH and his mother warned our people of an attack by NIMH before it was too late.

Though being called “mixed-blood” or “half-cooked” would be the least of his worries if he would return to our people, for he was the mastermind behind this mess. I guess I pity him, though I don’t really know why. His father, whom he loved dearly, was killed by…..that virus. It was presumed that Dragon (what the hell kind of name is that for a pet?) the Fittsgibbon’s pet cat was the cause of death. At least he loved his father, I can’t say the same. There have only been two recorded murders done by the rats of NIMH. One was done by Jenner and his boyfriend, Sullivan, to Nicodemus and the other was my father to my mother. He killed himself as well, but I wouldn’t call that murder of any kind. Murder is defined by killing of another being (or yourself in this case) and he certainly wasn’t anything that can described as a ‘being’. Though, to be fair, neither can any of “our people” because we aren’t humans and we aren’t animals either….we’reurl==http://=http:///url freaks.

His name, that is the mouse, is Timothy Brisby. He along with my girlfriend (because let’s face it, causing mass hysteria wouldn’t be as fun without a female present), Kate. I used to call her Kat, but she didn’t like that…..and the last thing I need these days are more enemies, especially ones who can potentially give me physical pleasure….sourl==http://=http:///url I obey her demands. As for my name you ask? Well, it’s Thomas, but you can call me Tom. That’s what everyone calls me.

“Hey Tom! We found some fries in the—“

“Not hungry Tim, we have to save our food because after today they’re going to figure out our pattern and our scavenging days will be limited, but you know this already. They’ll think we’re heading southwest, that’s where the “jackpot” will be, but we’re going to be heading in the opposite direction, where civilization is limited and we’ll be lucky to find a moldy breadcrumb covered with maggots.”

He giggled. “Someone being the old cynical bastard that he always is, I see. Where has that gotten you? You should be enjoying yourself, really. We’ve started something spectacular, something revolutionary.”

He wanted to go on…he wanted to make a hammy speech, but he couldn’t. Afraid to sound like a madman, methinks. He wants to think that what he’s doing is the right thing to do and that he’s not some sort of Hitler acting purely on his own benefit. So he just stopped there.

I sighed and said “It’s a stupid plan. It just delays our progress….andurl==http://=http:///url your brother will surely—“

His started trembling and blue eyes started blazing, how ironically fitting that his eyes were blue …for he truly believed he was the master race, or species.

“My brother…is none of your concern. Don’t worry about him, or Justin, or any of them.

I'm interested. Can't wait to read more.

Thanks....I was also inspired by a novel I read awhile back called "The Cobra Event" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cobra_Event

The virus in this story will be different than the one described in the book. It's a good read for those who like thrillers.

I'm doing this for fun, I'm not trying to make a sequel in anyway. A lot of the fantasy of SoN will not be present because I wanted to explore the more sci-fi nature that the book had to offer and go into more detail on the NIMH experiments. I haven't really came up with a storyboard yet. I just started writing what came to my mind at the time, so things might change and I might actually make it book-related instead of movie related.

I finished my first chapter. I plan on doing some research on neurology and bioweapons to help me out a little bit, but expect lots of plot holes and liberties taken regardless. Still haven't quite got a storyboard yet, but I did manage to finish my first chapter. Here's the rest of the passage, it's now book related not movie related:

“Hey Tom! We found some fries in the—“

“Not hungry Tim, we have to save our food because after today they’re going to figure out our pattern and our scavenging days will be limited, but you know this already. They’ll think we’re heading southwest, that’s where the “jackpot” will be, but we’re going to be heading in the opposite direction, where civilization is limited and we’ll be lucky to find a moldy breadcrumb covered with maggots.”

He giggled. “Someone being the old cynical bastard that he always is, I see. Where has that gotten you? You should be enjoying yourself, really. We’ve started something spectacular, something revolutionary.”

He wanted to go on…he wanted to make a hammy speech, but he couldn’t. Afraid to sound like a madman, methinks. He wants to think that what he’s doing is the right thing to do and that he’s not some sort of Hitler acting purely on his own benefit, so he just stopped there.

I sighed and said “It’s a stupid plan. It just delays our progress….andurl==http://=http:///url your brother will surely—“

His started trembling and blue eyes started blazing, how ironically fitting that his eyes were blue …for he truly believed he was the master race, or species.

“My brother…is none of your concern. Don’t worry about him, or Justin, or Nicodemus, or any of them. We have plans for them.”

I didn’t bother to question him about his “plans,” but in retrospect, I wish I did.

“You better eat, my little babykins. Gotta big day ahead of us ya know.” My girlfriend had a knack for being both my mother and my lover at the same time and that was certainly the case this time.

“If you call me babykins, then I can call you Kat….Fairurl==http://=http:///url is fair.” I grinned.

She returned my grin with a bright smile. “And if you call me Kat, I’ll take away your ability to have children. Are we clear?”

She’s a bitch and I f’in love her.

“And babykins…” She went on. “This might cheer you up.” She took two newspapers out of her bag and threw them down next to me. The bold headlines told stories of tragedy.

“Cumberland Man Kills Himself After Seizure” and “18 Year Old Girl Kills Her Family Before Killing Herself”

“The thing is,” I began “we can’t really tell if this is our work or not. Oh sure, it’s probable, just not certain. We saw it work on Schultz --”

Timothy interrupted me “…and that’s why we know it’s our work, it can’t be coincidence. Based on Schultz and my father, you read his diary, Tom, you know the symptoms. We can safely say that this is our work. The only thing that troubles me is that our victims our older and we put the crystal in a damn day care center. So my guess is that it only works on developed brains and nervous systems. What an amazing discovery! The more we use this virus, the more we learn from it. Oh there’s so much we can do--”

“If you shut the hell up, I’ll eat something.”

He nodded.

“Deal.”

….buturl==http://=http:///url I still wasn’t hungry.

....Now time to watch more horror movies. XD

FYI that was just the prologue, the first chapter will tell the story from the beginning. I just wanted the reader to ask questions first. Was this a good move or a bad move? Id like to think a good move.

Id also like to think I made the narrator out to be someone who's honest. He's not unreliable and he's willing to be up front and frank about what he's thinking.

This has the potential for a very interesting story. Please, continue the adventures of Tom, Tim, and Kate.

Steven

I've edited quite a bit of what I've already wrote and I finished my first chapter. It's quite short, but it's a small taste of what's to come in chapter 2 and the proceeding chapters and gives more insight into my character.

So without further ado....chapter one...be warned that I've not censored the "curse words" so if you're easily offended by that, you've been warned. It's a PG-13 story afterall, just keep that in mind:

“WAKE UP!”

….Youurl==http://=http:///url know how most people wake up from a tap/nudge on the shoulder and some people are even lucky enough to be woken up by sunlight? I totally envy those people. I always wake up to the sound of screaming. Whether it be my mother screaming “THOMAS!” or when she’s pissed off because I did something wrong I get a welcome “GODDAMNIT THOMAS!” or, as was the case today, my boss, I just can’t get a welcome “Good morning sunshine!” most people in this Valley seem to get.

..and to add injury to insult, I had a basket filled with books slammed on my desk….I can already feel the headache monsters hammering at my brain.

“You were sleeping again. I don’t like that. Nicodemus himself gave me these. They belong to him. They probably detail our Wondering Days or something. They go in the archive section. I trust you know where that is. Dewey Decimal as always, I don’t like disorganization and I don’t like you. Time to get to work…..chop-chop now!”

I got a headache, I’m tired, my little sister was being my little sister, I’m hungry, and I got more work to do than the President……life’s good at being shitty.

“M’kay Izzy, I love you too.” I managed to say that without sounding sarcastic, while she went back to her studies.

Having just moved to this Valley relatively recently and long before we were supposed to actually make the move (thanks Jenner!), we were naturally low on supplies/food and disorganized beyond belief. Most of our books and furniture has been lost, leaving some of us to sleep on the floors (that’s me!).

..Ah, I still remember that evening not too long ago. I was at the meeting where Mrs. Frisby broke the news that Jenner and his group of merry men playing Robin Hood got themselves killed while trying to move a motor. I’ll also remember my sister crying as her crush, Justin choose to stay behind to cover up our tracks (she wanted to stay behind too and I wouldn’t have complained). It was music to my sick cynical ears. Unfortunately, he made it out alive and my good guard rat friend, Jim, didn’t. Luckily I’m not the one to get teary eyed.

My family and I have been against The Plan all along because it would’ve sacrificed our comforts for a harder way of life. It seems that out fearless leader could care less. He gets plenty of food and a nice warm bed, while we have to work like a slave for our food and sleep on the floor. We get promises from Arthur and Nicodemus that furniture and food will be on their way, but promises don’t feed your people. It wasn’t all bad; sometimes the head chef will muster up her magic and supply us with some fish tacos with some berries and crème for dessert, but those occasions were few and far between. I swear, if I ever see Jenner and his pen pals, I’ll smash them with a cinderblock.

I worked two jobs. One was picking grain out on the farm with my mother and the other, as you might’ve guessed, was running the library with my sister as the head librarian/organizer/boss. I was already out of school before we went to Thorn Valley. I was one of the youngest of the Second Generation of Rats and got my education done and over with early on. I attended many council meetings with my father in the early days of the building of The Plan and we stated our disagreements, which fell on deaf ears. My sister, on the other hand, was behind on her education, but she was also old enough to work as well, so naturally the library was a perfect fit for her. I couldn’t imagine anyone better at organizing the library than her. She was bossy, she loved books, and she was obsessive compulsive beyond belief. She was perfect…..for the job that is.

Now as I head for the archive section while wobbling like jelly, Id never imagine that in the heavy basket would contain a book that would take me on the adventure of a lifetime. What I had imagined at the time was food and a bed with Kat in it.

I flipped over the basket and the books came pouring out like a stampede of elephants creating a pile of rubble with a cherry on top. It was the cherry on top that caught my eye. It was perfectly composed and stuck out like a sore thumb. The title read: The Diary of Jonathan Frisby, but it mind as well have read: The Beginning of Armageddon Starring Thomas

I require more!

I already sent what I have to the archive to be submitted, but I might not submit the rest until I'm finished working on it to make sure they're not a lot of errors/inconsistencies. This is probably going to be shorter than most fanfictions because I only describe what's relevant and don't go into much detail. A cynical depressive usually lacks the energy to be too descriptive.

I was one of the youngest of the Second Generation of Rats

Shouldn't this read "I was one of the oldest of the Second Generation of Rats," since he finished school earlier than many of the other ratlings?

Steven

I was one of the youngest of the Second Generation of Rats

Shouldn't this read "I was one of the oldest of the Second Generation of Rats," since he finished school earlier than many of the other ratlings?

Steven

Thanks.

I was one of the youngest of the Second Generation of Rats

Shouldn't this read "I was one of the oldest of the Second Generation of Rats," since he finished school earlier than many of the other ratlings?

Steven

Thanks.

You're welcome. ;)

Steven

Updates?

Steven

Don't expect more updates until after Christmas break. This story is actually told through a journal and the journal is called "Thomas' Armageddon," which is also the name of the fanfiction.

Rats committing acts of terrorism was just an idea that came up in my mind. It's not going to be a great story, and I'm going to bend canon quite a bit, but hopefully it will be entertaining.

I haven't been working on my fanfiction at alll. I've been mostly focusing on finals and such. I don't really even have a storyboard. What I do have is a mess of ideas that I need organized into a proper narrative. So without further ado:

Thomas reads Jonathan's journal, which details his past before his capture by NIMH as well as after. He was married and had eleven children with a mouse named Mary near the Fittsgibbon's farmhouse. He was captured and separated from his family. He vaguely describes being injected with a crystallized substance. As Thomas reads each entry, it becomes clear that Jonathan is suffering from delusional thinking. Jonathan has a hard time believing that his new family is real. He describes suffering from multiple seizures during the Wandering Days and wanting to harm/kill himself. His last entry is essentially a suicide note to Nicodemus telling him to preserve his corpse and bury it somewhere in Thorn Valley.

...So that's the end of part one..questions/complaints?

I haven't been working on my fanfiction at alll. I've been mostly focusing on finals and such. I don't really even have a storyboard. What I do have is a mess of ideas that I need organized into a proper narrative. So without further ado:

Thomas reads Jonathan's journal, which details his past before his capture by NIMH as well as after. He was married and had eleven children with a mouse named Mary near the Fittsgibbon's farmhouse. He was captured and separated from his family. He vaguely describes being injected with a crystallized substance. As Thomas reads each entry, it becomes clear that Jonathan is suffering from delusional thinking. Jonathan has a hard time believing that his new family is real. He describes suffering from multiple seizures during the Wandering Days and wanting to harm/kill himself. His last entry is essentially a suicide note to Nicodemus telling him to preserve his corpse and bury it somewhere in Thorn Valley.

...So that's the end of part one..questions/complaints?

Well, your excuse is a lot better than mine. ;)

Just out of curiosity, is this an alternate universe where Jonathan has 11 kids?

Steven

Apparently it could be a parallel reality, otherwise wouldn't it be too much of a coincidence having Jonathan living near the Fitzgibbons farm and THEN getting captured by NIMH, and then ending up on the farm again with the rats? But that's okay, because you did say you were bending canon a bit.

I should've clarified that the virus gives its host bizarre hallucinations and illusions and basically distorts his perception of events that happened in the past. I leave it up to the reader's interpretation whether or not Jonathan did have a family before NIMH. So yes, Grandpa Leemy, I'm aware that Jonathan having a family near the Fittzgibbon's farmhouse before being captured is pushing the boundaries of canon. However, it's not completely improbable; Jonathan could've easily remembered that he lived near the Fittzgibbon's home and tipped the idea to Nicodemus. Something to think about, yes?

It's not really a plot twist, so I'm going to ahead and say that, yes, Thomas contracts the virus from Jonathan's corpse. He killed his parents and Timothy Frisby is actually his split personality. I leave it up in the air whether Kat exists, or is just a metaphor for Thomas' sexual frustration and his inability to secure a mate due to his depressive personality. When he writes his journal of events leading and proceeding his contact with the virus, it's unknown if he's telling the truth or not.

Mrs. Frisby does make an appearance as well as the lost 9 mice. You'll just have to read the story to find out how. Mwhahahahahhahahhahahha!

...Also expect this to be amateur at best. Expect top quality like only a lazy 19 year old oaf on winter break with nothing to do can deliver! Don't expect Paul Gibbs' style of going into painstaking detail about everything.

ლ(ಠ益ಠლ

Just write it!!

I might scrap this project and start something a little easier for me to handle: The Wandering Days. Writing a thriller is hard and Id be borrowing too many elements from other stories for it to be fun. I've been getting over a stomach virus that I got over Christmas, so I haven't really had the energy to start anything.