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"BAM!" yelled the door as it was slammed shut. "Bam", such a simple noise, yet I dreaded it everyday all day long until I had to face it, until I had to fight THEM, my inner demons and past sins. Every night, when I came back from my day-to-day bboring and increasingly sad desk job, when I painfully arrived to my cheap appartment in the worst possible neighbourhood, fearing my empty home lit only with gloomy shadows, I was coming closer and closer to my self-indulged solitary confinement with them.
Some of those tragically fatal flaws I had had were anger, alcoholsim and hate. These were the ones which, long ago, had made me kill that innocent prostitute, THAT DUMB-ASS WHORE WHO PUSHED ME OVER THE EDGE! This horrifying souvenir was unfortunately reminded to me every single night as well as my past alcoholism and anger management problems as soon as I closed my appartment's "front door". If I hadn't had a therapy while I was in jail for that murder, it would probably not have been the only INCIDENT I would have had until that night. That fateful night in question was about seven years after the prostitute slaughter case; Friday, November 2nd, 2003.
That night, after a mercyless day at the office, I was relieved of the "BAM" I had been fearind all day when I opened the door and saw the girlfriend I had at the time. Even though she looked sad, it could'nt be possibly worse with her than with only myself. I loved her so very much. She was my sunshine as she was constantly and gleegully lighting my life and ridding it of its darkness. After all, since I had known her, my life wasn't planned around the day and night of the sun anymore, but around the "day" of her presence and the "night" of her absence. She was truly the last glimpse of hope I had for a "normal life". I couldn't have been more wrong : she had only come to inform me that she was leaving me for someon else. Apparently, it wasn't my fault since she was the one who had stumbled upon an all-around nicer and happier man. That night, the last bit of mental health I still had was annihilated.
That night, I had dived right back into my weakness; I had DRUNK it to be more precise. Now, I'm back in jail. Now, I accept myself as I am: no more therapy, just plain old fun...
Just letting you know that my latest game, Cavern Hunters, is FINALLY out. A year after the beginning of it's creation, it is submitted and ready to be played by all.
I don't know if you've come across the newest collaboration from animator jameslee03 and composer hania Tarboy. If you haven't seen it yet I suggest you click here and watch this great animation. Here's a preview.
Damn, it has been one long year since I ever submitted a flash to the portal. Why is that ? It's because in the meantime, I taught myself actionscript 2 ('cause actionscript 3 sucks). Thus, I have an upcoming game. A good one for once. It was supposed to be for the Power of 3, but we never really entered the contest so I continued it anyway only because I sicerly thought it diserved to be seen. The game I'm talking about is Cavern Hunters. Here's a pic.
Merde, cela fait déjà un an que j'ai soumis mon dernier flash au portail. Pourquoi cela ? Simplement, car, pendant ce temps, je me suis auro-enseigné l'actionscript 2 (parce que l'actionscript 3 est nul. Donc, j'ai un nouveau jeu qui s'en vient. Un bon jeu pour une fois. Il était originalement conçu pour le Power of 3, mais nous ne sommes jamais vraiment entré dans le concours alors je l'ai continué de toute façon, car je croyais sincèrement qu'il méritait d'être vu. Le jeu en question est Cavern Hunters (Les Chasseur de la Caverne). Voici une image.
This is my third noir short story. It's back to my regular realistic psychological noir short story.
A JOURNALIST'S LAST PAPER
Journalism has always been my passion. I have always devoted my life to it, to inform people... ...to report what happends everyday in this cruel world. Nowadays, I can hardly stand it. You see, my job, here, at the Prayersville's Gazette is all about murders and infinite violence. I did not choose it, it was assigned to me. I was actually told that it appeared I was good at it. It is true NOW. As I gained experience in this departement, it was becoming more truthful as every new evidence of unleashed wild fury and rage on one unique and poor victim were showed everyday. But, still, it wasn't true back then. I was a new employee, so I ended up inheriting all the crap. Somehow, I kept my job.
Throughout my career, I have seen some weird and scary shit, but nothing compares to what I have to handle and deliver to the population this very day. Some maniac killed five people last night. All the victims had no relation whatsoever excepted for the fact they lived on the same street, the very street my house is located on. They were monstruously slaughtered by an unknown blunt object. I am extremely scared. I do not fear for my life at all, but for my neighbors' instead. When I was about twenty, five years ago, I was diagnosed with severe personnality duplicity. I was told I had a dangerous second one which should never be released. My doctor had even asked me to decline the crime and murder departement job offer for a newspaper I had received at that time, or else my own Mr. Hyde would see the light of day. As you might have guessed, I accepted the job anyway and, since then, no signs from my monster were shown.
No signs at all... ...until this morning. I woke up, soaked in blood, with five corpses lying in the bed with me. I could recognize five of my neighbors. I managed to hide them in my basement and take a shower to clear my mind and to get rid of that red evidence my body was wrapped in. I, then, called my old doctor. Apparently, he died of a brain cancer two years ago. Now, it's noon. I called my boss to inform him I would not go to work today as I am SICK. By now, I had time to choose an option. It might appear gruesome to you. I, on the other hand, have worked five years constantly thinking about murders, thus I am desensitised and don't see anything disturbing about it. To me, THIS is normal. THIS is life. THIS is why I'm writing this "last goodbye" note. As you are reading this note, I am dead and I hopefully took my maniac with me.
- Frank Brennan -
This is my second noir short story. It's a bit weirder ans as references to devil and stuff.
Life... Life is such an interesting concept or thing. It is so hardly created and, yet, so easily destroyed. Tons of careers are based on the understanding of life : some biologists study the beginning of life, birth. Psychologists study the situations happening through the whole life itself. We preferred studying the end of it, death. We were what you call coroners although some widows and orphans called us reapers. I can't say they were wrong; in fact we were, most of the time, among the firsts to see the corpses. Most people would have hated my job. I loved it. Well, I usually did. I can remember one week, one fateful week, when I did not. Why ? The only autopsy we had programmed for that week was a rich family's dead cat. I hated those weeks. Not only did we have almost no job to do, but also the only one we had was sort of useless. I mean : people shouldn't pay the great price of an autopsy for their dead cat. It's not reasonable. And that wasn't enough, I had already seen the old cat's corpse for a few seconds and I could already conclude its cause : it killed itself gnawing an old unprotected electrical wire. While most of the people were enjoying that great week stripped of deaths, I was sitting there impatiently waiting for a soul to rest in peace. That night, without listening to any knowledge I had learned about how death was unpredictable during my career, I made a request. A request to someone special, to someone diabolical : I sold my soul to the devil himself asking in return of a lot of work for the next week. The next morning, I was found lying on floor of my bedroom, dead of a heart attack, by my young assistant who worried not to see me at work without calling or anything. I had become a devil's employee. Knowing my past life, he made me become truly a reaper. That week, I had a lot of work and so did my ex-partners. How ironic...
2009-04-14 15:12:32 by VinceDash
Hello Fellow Newgrounders, here is VinceDash posting for the first time of what will become an habit a noir short story I wrote myself. In fact, I'm going to post one every 2 mondays. Here is the first :
IN THE MIND OF A PSYCHOPATH
"Damn...". It was the very first word that came to my mind after I had done it. I could not believe I had done it. I remember feeling and thinking really weird. I thought it would be okay to hit him. After all, he dared me to. Well, he was daring me to hit him constantly and, that day, he really meant it. But, I had reasons. Even before he coldly told it to me, I was pretty suspicious. Though having my best friend tell me with no sort of regrets at all that he was dating MY girlfriend was not really what I expected while we were watching a football game on Tv that day. I became mad as hell I took a nearby golf club and threatened him. Daring me once again to hit him was the LAST thing he did. Then, I thought of what I would do next. "Shall I continue my rampage and punish the naughty girl or shall I stay here and prepare my alibi ?" Then, as fast as lightning, an idea struck me : "Why not both ?" I first took care of the crime scene. I lifted my friend and hanged him with his belt in the bathroom. I cautiously locked the door when I left the room. Then, I cleaned up the club and hid it in the wardrobe. I was actually suprised it did not look so obvious. I left the appartement and went to my GIRLFRIEND's house lighting up a cigarette while I hopped in the car. On my way, I was thinking how I would slaughter her. I decided to let my rage and my fury the care to determine her death. That was the plan until I was about to throw away the cigarette I had lighted. It gave me an awful idea that would be sure to please my madness. You see, I had additional gaz tanks in my trunk and her house was mostly built of wood. I emptied the tanks all around her house. I, then, leaped into my car and threw a burning match out by the window and rolled away as fast as my car could. Back at home, I forced myself to cry and called the police. My alibi did not work as well as I had planned. Today, jail is my home and I won't move out until a very long time. I'm mostly in here because of that night, but that's not the only reason. I am also stuck in this place because, once I've tasted the joy of taking lives away, I have no been able to stop.
Bonjour mes amis de Newgrounds, ici VinceDash qui poste pour la première fois de ce qui s'annonce être plus tard une habitude une courte histoire de type noir que j'ai écrit de mon cru. En fait, je vais en poster une tous les 2 lundis. D'ailleurs, plus haut se trouve la première. Désolé les francophones, je ne les traduirai pas vu que ce serait trop long.
Hey guys, I have a new game in the making. It still has no name but is relatively far in its making. It's gonna be a horizontal shooter about a cloud wanting to save the planet from ecological slaughter. You can see a screenshot down below.
Hey les amis, j'ai un nouveau jeu en plein développement. Il n'a toujours pas de nom mais reste quand même relativement loin dans son développement. Ce sera un jeu de tir horizontal à propos d'un nuage qui veut sauver la planète d'un massacre écologique. Vous pouvez en voir une image plus bas.
Hey guess what. I have a new user image. Take a look.
Hey, devinez quoi. J'ai une nouvelle image d'utilisateur. Jeter un coup d'oeil.
Here is a drawing I made for fun with flash. I only used a mouse since I only own a mouse. It took about an hour and a half. I like it. Please, leave comments.
Voici un dessin que j'ai fait par pur plaisir avec Flash. J'ai seulement utilisé une souris vu que je n'ai qu'une souris. Ça m'a pris environ une heure et demi. Je l'aime. S'il-vous-plaît, laissez des commentaires.