Post by chaos on Dec 3, 2008 21:03:11 GMT -5
I had to write a short story for creative writing class so what do you think and what needs a changing?
Pic picked up her newest bunch of paper work and headed off towards the gates. At least she thought it was her paper work, all the paper work looked alike and they all had assigned to Pic at the top. That was the trouble the worker drones had to face they were all sheep. They followed what the others did. Once a long time ago a drone had actually come up with the name Pic, lacking individuality all the other drones named themselves Pic as well.
It was very stressful when it came to paper work. More often than not the paper work would be sent to the wrong Pic, completely messing up the system. Sometimes old paper work even made it back in to the stacks of the new. Not that Pic or any other drone could do anything about it. To them what was on the paperwork was total truth no matter what.
Pic whistled as she made her way to the gate trying not to shiver. Not that it was cold by any means in fact it was quite warm. But Pic was used to it being a lot hotter.
"Ever since the new management took over and merged everything, We've had to many new comers to afford to heat this place." Pic growled staring longingly at the thousands of pits along the floor all of which used to spit glorious flames several feet high.
As Pic reached the gate, a grin grew on her face.
"I love my job." She smiled widely exiting the facility and walking swiftly up to a small green house that had just appeared out of nowhere.
Loud shouting could be heard from the house. "Looks like we got some frisky ones." Pic sung out disappearing in a poof of smoke and reappearing inside the house. "Hello!" The two teenage boys were busy arguing and didn't even notice her.
"Well where are we then!?" The taller of the two shouted.
"How should I know?!" The shorter one shouted back.
"It was your bomb!"
"It was just a simple hand grenade!"
"Don't you think it was a little stupid to throw and ACTIVATED grenade right on your own front porch?!"
"No." The shorted spoke simply.
"Where did you even get a grenade!?"
"Hello?" Pic repeated finally catching the boy's attentions.
“Who are you?” The shorter one asked. The taller of the two crossed his arms and glared at the shorter his black hair falling in his face.
“I'm Pic.” Pic said proudly placing her hands on her hips.
“Is that short for something?” The taller asked.
“No, not really.” Pic smiled.
“Sounds like Pickle.” The short one grumbled a smirk on his face.
“Oh, yes, that's it! I like that, call me Pickle now!” Pic, or Pickle as it was now, grinned pulling the shorter boy in to a hug.
“GAH! Let me go!” He shouted struggling.
Pickle let go and grabbed both boys arms. By now the taller boy had decided it was as good a time as any for introductions. “So, um...Pickle, I'm Jake, and he's Malcolm.” He looked around as they neared a gate with giant fire cardboard cutouts. “Where are we anyway?”
Pickle let go of the two pulling up her paper work. “Hmm, your lying to me.” She grumbled. The boys looked at her confused. “It says here that you're George Bush and Britney Spears.” She pointed at the paper work, then did a double take. “I could have sworn you were older.” She shrugged and ignored Jake and Malcolm's wide completely lost stares. Pickle moved on however. “As of where we are, well,” Quickly Pickle rushed up to the side of the gate, pushing a large red button, then hurrying over to stand behind Jake and Malcolm, as the gate opened almost dramatically knocking over several of the cardboard cut outs. “WELCOME TO HELL!”
Pic picked up her newest bunch of paper work and headed off towards the gates. At least she thought it was her paper work, all the paper work looked alike and they all had assigned to Pic at the top. That was the trouble the worker drones had to face they were all sheep. They followed what the others did. Once a long time ago a drone had actually come up with the name Pic, lacking individuality all the other drones named themselves Pic as well.
It was very stressful when it came to paper work. More often than not the paper work would be sent to the wrong Pic, completely messing up the system. Sometimes old paper work even made it back in to the stacks of the new. Not that Pic or any other drone could do anything about it. To them what was on the paperwork was total truth no matter what.
Pic whistled as she made her way to the gate trying not to shiver. Not that it was cold by any means in fact it was quite warm. But Pic was used to it being a lot hotter.
"Ever since the new management took over and merged everything, We've had to many new comers to afford to heat this place." Pic growled staring longingly at the thousands of pits along the floor all of which used to spit glorious flames several feet high.
As Pic reached the gate, a grin grew on her face.
"I love my job." She smiled widely exiting the facility and walking swiftly up to a small green house that had just appeared out of nowhere.
Loud shouting could be heard from the house. "Looks like we got some frisky ones." Pic sung out disappearing in a poof of smoke and reappearing inside the house. "Hello!" The two teenage boys were busy arguing and didn't even notice her.
"Well where are we then!?" The taller of the two shouted.
"How should I know?!" The shorter one shouted back.
"It was your bomb!"
"It was just a simple hand grenade!"
"Don't you think it was a little stupid to throw and ACTIVATED grenade right on your own front porch?!"
"No." The shorted spoke simply.
"Where did you even get a grenade!?"
"Hello?" Pic repeated finally catching the boy's attentions.
“Who are you?” The shorter one asked. The taller of the two crossed his arms and glared at the shorter his black hair falling in his face.
“I'm Pic.” Pic said proudly placing her hands on her hips.
“Is that short for something?” The taller asked.
“No, not really.” Pic smiled.
“Sounds like Pickle.” The short one grumbled a smirk on his face.
“Oh, yes, that's it! I like that, call me Pickle now!” Pic, or Pickle as it was now, grinned pulling the shorter boy in to a hug.
“GAH! Let me go!” He shouted struggling.
Pickle let go and grabbed both boys arms. By now the taller boy had decided it was as good a time as any for introductions. “So, um...Pickle, I'm Jake, and he's Malcolm.” He looked around as they neared a gate with giant fire cardboard cutouts. “Where are we anyway?”
Pickle let go of the two pulling up her paper work. “Hmm, your lying to me.” She grumbled. The boys looked at her confused. “It says here that you're George Bush and Britney Spears.” She pointed at the paper work, then did a double take. “I could have sworn you were older.” She shrugged and ignored Jake and Malcolm's wide completely lost stares. Pickle moved on however. “As of where we are, well,” Quickly Pickle rushed up to the side of the gate, pushing a large red button, then hurrying over to stand behind Jake and Malcolm, as the gate opened almost dramatically knocking over several of the cardboard cut outs. “WELCOME TO HELL!”