* "I represent the Writers Guild. The Writers Guild, the Writers Guild. And in the name of Writers Guild I wish to welcome you to our latest edition (boy that last part is a mouthful!)
This week we have two stories by two of our writers.
Up first is a story by @ernesth100 staring...The Writers Guild.
Part 1-Return of Impurest
The Writers Guild , composed of some of the best heroes in the world (who also once a year publish a book based on the adventures they've had). Poet, Josh Might, DNGN, E100, Cbishop, AweSam, 48er, Joygirl, Worm, and Fumonjo. These heroes have been going up against some of the most dangerous villains Wildvine, Black Dog, Pyrogram, Tommy the Hitman, Knight of the Chronicle, Xenon, Prime Power, Spidey Ivy, Bat Kevin, and the sinister wizard Impurest. All watched by Iykopis the all seeing. But Impurest was planning something to evil for Iykopis to just stand by and so he warns the heroes that Impurest is planning something and leaves them. Not wanting to interfere to much with mortal life. The next day The Guild had a meeting about Impurest's intentions.
"Remember when we went against Impurest? I mean the first I mean the first time and almost died." Poet said.
"One Impurest and 10 of us and we still got our *** kicked" E100 stated.
"So what do you think it is this time" DNGN said.
"Yea, we can find that out later after we stop the fire across the street" 48er said.
"Alright then todays team is me, 48er, and Fumonjo"Peot instructed.
"Why is it always you when you pick a team" E100 asked.
"Shut up, you're in charge" Poet said.
The team saw the 11 foot fire wall in front of them and noticed something else...it wasn't moving. 48er broke the side of a water fountain unleashing a burst of water but wasn't shocked when a hole opened in the flame and the water went right through.
"Okay now I know its-" 48er was cut off by a deep voice that said "Impurest!"
As the fire turned into a sort of holographic version of Impurest.
"Well lets get this over with. What's your plan this time?" Poet asked.
"Now now, lets not be in such a rush. How's life going? How about those books? Maybe you can right one from the grave of how I killed The Writers Guild!"Impurest laughed.
"How about...no. It sounds like something Dr. Seuss would write." Fumonjo said.
Impurest frowned and pointed at a car behind him. He fired a blast which blew it to pieces. "I'm not even really here! How will you possibly defeat me in person!?" Impurest said as he vanished.
This made the trio think "how would they defeat Impurest?".
The next day The Writers Guild had another meeting.
"So how did we defeat Impurest last time?" Fumonjo asked.
"We didn't we were down nearly dead and he just decided we weren't worth the effort" Poet recalled.
"So why is he back now?"DNGN asked.
"We've been defeating some of the best villains in the world. We're probably worth the effort now." 48er chuckled.
“Yea, except this time he’s gonna finish the jo--"
48er was cut off by E100. “Guys we got a grassy situation outside” E100 said.
Outside vines were growing over everything, cars, buildings, and people. This could only be the work of one villain…Wildvine.
“Alright this time E100 and Worm come with me” Poet said.
The vines stopped in front of the building just a foot away from the trio. Wildvine popped out the middle.
“Hey guys guess what? This time I’m not holding back, this time its for Impurest!” Wildvine said shooting a thorn at Worm who just barely dodged it.
The vines tied up Poet whom struyggle to get free, but to no avail. E100 came up and punched Wildvine with the force of a 100 tons, sending her flying back. She got up and healed, but before she could finish Poet got loose thanks to Worm. Poet took off his gloves and dodging several thorns managed to touch Wildvine causing it to stun the villain. While Wildvine was stunned E100 hit her with 99 tons knocking her out.
“A shame, had 98 tons left.” E100 said cracking his knuckles. They were surprised when the vines shriveled up and Wildvine vanished into smoke.
“Well, that was dramatic” Worm said.
Meanwhile in Impurests lair the wizard was in rage. “You insignificant little weakling! I should finish you here!” Impurest yelled.
“Sorry, I’m just not built to kill though! It’s a work in progress!” Wildvine replied.
“Well I am and if you evoke my wrath again I will!” Impuresrt stated. “Now go make me a grilled cheese. All of this evil stuff is evoking my hunger.” Impurest ordered.
“Yes master!” Wildvine said walking away quickly.
“Note this, The Writers Guild will fall” Impurest said smiling.
and then something written by @teop_eht
The sands of time swirled, papers rustled and out of the deep and dark mists which blanketed the city of Rache walked a man. He was fairly normal against the standards of Racheites: He wore a dark blue trench coat with a light blue vest and tie underneath. Nothing fantastic there for sure. His hair was a wild, curly brown mess, which appeared not to have been combed in several days. It was not helped by the fact that, like any man his age, his hair had started to recede. He was a poet and he was about to die.
A distinction must be made of course on his identity. His name was “ThePoet.” Not “The Poet,” but rather “ThePoet.” No space. You see, the space between the letters makes all the difference. Our Poet (the Poet of this universe) actually has blond hair, blue eyes, is much younger than this similar named fellow and wears a performer’s top hat and coat [ Spoilers: this is the truth dear readers. I do have blond hair and a top hat]. He is a hero. ThePoet, however, is not. He is a neutral; a man who normally does not care about right and wrong and the fate of the world. That is until today.
The man from another universe hurried down the dark, grease-covered streets. He reached a newsstand, found that that it was deserted, and turned right. He found himself in a lonely and dreary park. He could hear the creak of the plastic slide and the groan of the old swing-set being moved, slowly and slightly, by the wind. Somewhere, a parrot squawked the word DOOM! with a cackle.
The man slowed his pace as his eyes alighted upon a worn down, free-standing bolitin board with was covered old flyers of missing dogs and long expired events. His attention was not on this board but rather the lamp post with a small silver box which bore the words EMERGANCY CALLL.
Ignoring that call for some reason had not two but three Ls, the man pressed the button. There was a click and a voice could be heard from a small speaker.
“Rache Police Department. What is your emergency?” rang the voice of a dispatcher who was hoping it was not the neighborhood kids daring each other to once again push the CALLL button.
“I need you to send a message,” ThePoet breathless said.
The dispatcher let out a soft hmm and without thinking began to chew on her pencil even though in her new years resolutions she had said she would stop.
“It’s for The Poet,” the alternate universe man explained.
The dispatcher’s attention was caught. Everyone knew The Poet. He was Poetic Patriot of Peace.
“Tell him…tell him…” the man breathed, looking behind him, before nervously whispering, “He’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?” the dispatcher asked, now at the edge of her seat. She unconsciously dropped her pencil.
At the same instant that the pencil hit the floor, a round object bounced against ThePoet’s shoes. He looked down. It was a marble.
In horror, he tried to run away, but he was too late. The colorful swirls in the little ball of glass stretched outward and twisted around him like the tenticals of a hippy octopus. The multicolored glass swirls pulled him to the ground like Gulliver being captured by the race of tiny people. There was a sound which can only be described by the word GLUMP! and ThePoet was gone. He was now in a prison (some would say prism) of glass inside the small marble.
A figure stepped from the shadows. This man was not a Poet from another universe. He was not a clone or twin brother. He was something much much worse. He was teoP ehT and he was evil.
“!emoh er'uoY...won tub ,tib elttil a koot tI !eiraed ,olleH” the man of pure evil said, picking up the marble.
“Hello, dearie! It took a little bit, but now...You're home!” squawked the green parrot who sat upon teoP’s shoulder. This bird, as you might suspect, was also of pure evil.
Putting the marble in his pocket with the rest of his collection, ThePoet’s attacker looked out into the distance toward the skyscrapers of the city of Rache.
“.nooS .llaf lliw oot uoy nooS .ti leef nac I .ytic siht nI .ereh er'uoY,” the man said with a grin and a laugh.
“You're here. In this city. I can feel it. Soon you too will fall. Soon,” the parrot squawked.
teoP glared at it.
?dnE ehT () The End?
Well, that's it! Our next edition will run next Friday, November 22nd. Please remember to read, comment, and enjoy!