From 057dfc36ba296ba6b096120edce4dea68cf78db1 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: firebadnofire Date: Wed, 26 Feb 2025 15:19:19 +0000 Subject: [PATCH] commit --- LICENSE | 1 + README.md | 3 ++ copyright/copyright.txt | 4 ++ writing/Passage_Harm_ShortTest.txt | 3 ++ writing/War Bonds.txt | 60 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 5 files changed, 71 insertions(+) create mode 120000 LICENSE create mode 100644 README.md create mode 100755 copyright/copyright.txt create mode 100755 writing/Passage_Harm_ShortTest.txt create mode 100755 writing/War Bonds.txt diff --git a/LICENSE b/LICENSE new file mode 120000 index 0000000..40b89b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +copyright/copyright.txt \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4aaeb5c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +# created_media + +Created works for Archuserorg diff --git a/copyright/copyright.txt b/copyright/copyright.txt new file mode 100755 index 0000000..bbfafa4 --- /dev/null +++ b/copyright/copyright.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +This is a placeholder copyright license +Future terms WILL be updated + +For now, you may view this work and redistribute it as long as the author (William Jones or FireBADnoFire, whichever is more relivant) is creditied diff --git a/writing/Passage_Harm_ShortTest.txt b/writing/Passage_Harm_ShortTest.txt new file mode 100755 index 0000000..f98cdf7 --- /dev/null +++ b/writing/Passage_Harm_ShortTest.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +Whatever emotion you could call his current state, it's was plainly visible. Fortunately, nobody was there to see it. At least, fortunately in his eyes. Nobody had to deal with his outbursts. "It's my problem." The long screams pierced even his own ears, the aches in his muscles growing more intense by the passing hour, persisting long after rage had subsided. Some say acute radiation poisoning is a bad way to go. Your body's cells subconsciously turn against each other and rip themselves apart. How is he any different from radiation? That's how he sees himself, as his own radiation poisoning. Destroying his own body because of external pressures. Except this time, it's done consciously yet so out of control. The feeling of your own cells ripping away, but then you realize they're just too weak to hang on after all you've done. The feeling of, gently releasing the tensions of your arms only to feel aches set in. You look at your knuckles. You find only a hammer + + diff --git a/writing/War Bonds.txt b/writing/War Bonds.txt new file mode 100755 index 0000000..7bc69b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/writing/War Bonds.txt @@ -0,0 +1,60 @@ +War Bonds + +The dim but warm glow of the light bulb illuminated Raymond's desk, casting soft shadows across the neatly organized surface. Next to a half-empty ink bottle was a letter, its edges worn from nervous fiddling. He read it again, savoring the familiar handwriting. + + + +"Dear Raymond, + + + +I am delighted to get to see you after so long! It feels like an eternity since we served together. See you at the coffee shop on Alfred St. + + + +With love, + + + +Arthur Sterling." + + + +Raymond’s chest tightened, equal parts joy and unease. A bond forged in trenches and whispers had endured over years and miles, more than just brothers in arms. And yet, as the letter slipped from his hand, his gaze fell on the gilded invitation perched in the corner of his desk—a summons to the governor’s party, promising grandeur and luxury. + + + +"Surely, I can have time. No, no. Not possible. I need to pick." His stressed, panicked murmurs filled the room. "I just need to breathe. Breathe. I can't just turn down the governor after all I've done for him. But Arthur. Oh, Arthur. How I miss you." He cupped his face in his hands. "I'm a mess." + + + +Picking up the governor's envelope again, he took a good look at the front of it. + + + +"Dear Raymond Malone, + + + +It is to my utmost pleasure to invite you to the manor for a lovely evening ball. I am especially grateful for all you’ve done to help plan this event. I couldn’t have done it without your impeccable taste and attention to detail. I know you’ll dazzle everyone here, just as you always do. + + + +With sincere regards, Governor Malloy." + + + +"Malloy," Raymond said softly. "I remember those hiking adventures with you and our parents—scaling mountains, chasing horizons. But you're nothing like Arthur, are you?" + + + +Standing up, he walked to the window to reflect. The ambient jazz music playing in the speakeasy under him soothed his emotions. "Arthur..." he repeated into the wind. He felt the cool breeze graze his skin as the hum of jazz below steadied his resolve. The city lights blurred in the distance, but his path had never been clearer. + + + +He turned away. There was no time to waste. Making up his mind, he put on his three-piece suit and headed to the door. Taking one last look at the gilded envelope, he laid it gently into the trash bin, the elegant paper brushing softly against the cold metal. + + + +"Sorry, old friend," he whispered, "but I have more important things today. There are some things—some people—you can’t leave behind." +