Post by frankthetriviaman on Jul 14, 2021 23:05:42 GMT -5
The room was empty, without a single living soul inside. But then, a light flashed, and a person fell a few feet and landed on the floor below. The Caucasian young man was unimpressive in appearance, but he was the kind of guy that once you got to know him, he was a nice guy.
He stood up, and brushed himself down. Looking around, he couldn't make sense of where he was; looking into the distance, he only saw a black void in all directions. Yet, he was clearly standing on a black and white tiled floor.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" the young man asked, seeing if anyone was around. Then, a spotlight from the nothingness above turned on, and shined down upon him! And then, in the distance, a second spot light shined on a spot, and a figure stepped forward into focus. It was someone not seen in years, but at the same time the young man knew all to well.
"It is you... The Writer, you have returned" the young man said in amazement.
But The Writer was stern in appearance, "Frankthetriviaman, you have been brought here to be held accountable for your crimes against the forum!" He said with a mild anger directed at Frank.
Frank suddenly looked nervous, "What? But... but I have harmed no one!" He proclaimed.
"Yes, in the real world you are an upstanding man, no one is disputing that. But your presence on the forum has caused many an unforgivable crime, and for that you shall be held accountable" The Writer said back. "To be clear, of course, I mean the crime of bad writing; not a literal crime. After all that is what this story is about" The Writer explained.
"Then perhaps "act" is the better description of what I have done?" Frank asked.
"I suppose; but that is not important!" The Writer said as he manifested some papers, "Frankthetriviaman, you have been accused of ruining the forum with poor writing, including but not limited to bad posts, stumping fellow authors, ruining stories and most heinously of all... causing great inactivity on the forum. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty! I would never do anything to harm the forum I worked so hard to build!" Frank said
"Yea right; my story hasn't even been touched in years" a voice said.
"Mine neither" said another. Frank looked up and saw that he and the writer were surrounded by onlookers, but only their silhouettes could be made out. But Frank could tell from their voices exactly who they were, and he began to sweat profusely.
"No...no... my past, its coming back to haunt me" he said in fear.
"Not so much "haunt" as "hold accountable" as I said before. Let's start with your most despicable act against the forum: your constant and heartless "killing" of stories. Whether it was Literary Mosaic, the main game, the sitcom, the sci-fi game, the anime, or any other of the many stories you have contributed to over the years, at some point it was all but inevitable that you would find some way to kill a story- mostly through a post that others would find impossible to work with. Do you deny this?" The Writer asked.
"N...no, I don't" Frank sighed in admission. "But, but it was not intentional! Even early on I was trying to avoid clichés and common tropes, and introduces premises and plot points that I thought at the time could take the story in a unique direction! How was I supposed to know that I'd occasionally have an idea that was so out there nobody knew what to do with it" Frank continued.
"Ah, but that was NOT the only reason, was it? No, you know all to well the other reasons. You would rely on cheap resolutions to eliminate drama that should've driven forward a story, but instead you gave them lazy resolutions. Or you'd introduce plot points so trivial or boring that nobody even bothered to build off them. Do you deny these either?" The Writer asked.
"N-no..." Frank said in admission; knowing everything the omnipresent writer said was true.
"But, I am a fair man, so I will give others a chance to weigh in on your behalf as well. IF ANY WRITER WISHES TO SAY SOMETHING IN DEFENSE OF THIS SORRY EXCUSE OF A WRITER, MAY THEY SHOW THEMSELVES NOW!" He boomed. Time passed, but no one would manifest.
Frank whispered to himself... "Toz... Eyes... Tug... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry" he lamented, looking back on what he had done.
He stood up, and brushed himself down. Looking around, he couldn't make sense of where he was; looking into the distance, he only saw a black void in all directions. Yet, he was clearly standing on a black and white tiled floor.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" the young man asked, seeing if anyone was around. Then, a spotlight from the nothingness above turned on, and shined down upon him! And then, in the distance, a second spot light shined on a spot, and a figure stepped forward into focus. It was someone not seen in years, but at the same time the young man knew all to well.
"It is you... The Writer, you have returned" the young man said in amazement.
But The Writer was stern in appearance, "Frankthetriviaman, you have been brought here to be held accountable for your crimes against the forum!" He said with a mild anger directed at Frank.
Frank suddenly looked nervous, "What? But... but I have harmed no one!" He proclaimed.
"Yes, in the real world you are an upstanding man, no one is disputing that. But your presence on the forum has caused many an unforgivable crime, and for that you shall be held accountable" The Writer said back. "To be clear, of course, I mean the crime of bad writing; not a literal crime. After all that is what this story is about" The Writer explained.
"Then perhaps "act" is the better description of what I have done?" Frank asked.
"I suppose; but that is not important!" The Writer said as he manifested some papers, "Frankthetriviaman, you have been accused of ruining the forum with poor writing, including but not limited to bad posts, stumping fellow authors, ruining stories and most heinously of all... causing great inactivity on the forum. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty! I would never do anything to harm the forum I worked so hard to build!" Frank said
"Yea right; my story hasn't even been touched in years" a voice said.
"Mine neither" said another. Frank looked up and saw that he and the writer were surrounded by onlookers, but only their silhouettes could be made out. But Frank could tell from their voices exactly who they were, and he began to sweat profusely.
"No...no... my past, its coming back to haunt me" he said in fear.
"Not so much "haunt" as "hold accountable" as I said before. Let's start with your most despicable act against the forum: your constant and heartless "killing" of stories. Whether it was Literary Mosaic, the main game, the sitcom, the sci-fi game, the anime, or any other of the many stories you have contributed to over the years, at some point it was all but inevitable that you would find some way to kill a story- mostly through a post that others would find impossible to work with. Do you deny this?" The Writer asked.
"N...no, I don't" Frank sighed in admission. "But, but it was not intentional! Even early on I was trying to avoid clichés and common tropes, and introduces premises and plot points that I thought at the time could take the story in a unique direction! How was I supposed to know that I'd occasionally have an idea that was so out there nobody knew what to do with it" Frank continued.
"Ah, but that was NOT the only reason, was it? No, you know all to well the other reasons. You would rely on cheap resolutions to eliminate drama that should've driven forward a story, but instead you gave them lazy resolutions. Or you'd introduce plot points so trivial or boring that nobody even bothered to build off them. Do you deny these either?" The Writer asked.
"N-no..." Frank said in admission; knowing everything the omnipresent writer said was true.
"But, I am a fair man, so I will give others a chance to weigh in on your behalf as well. IF ANY WRITER WISHES TO SAY SOMETHING IN DEFENSE OF THIS SORRY EXCUSE OF A WRITER, MAY THEY SHOW THEMSELVES NOW!" He boomed. Time passed, but no one would manifest.
Frank whispered to himself... "Toz... Eyes... Tug... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry" he lamented, looking back on what he had done.