Hobo_With_A_Scythe
Well-known member
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2020
- Messages
- 26
- Points
- 53
I don't mean swearing at the appropriate moments like if someone close died or something painful happened etc but just general swearing.
Example:
Dude's supposed to be 59 years old but I don't buy it.
Background:
I don't mind swearing, it can be a powerful tool when used appropriately but when used so blatantly without a story reason [example: used to be a gangster], I can't help but think I'm reading something immature written by an angsty teen. It reads like cringe to be honest.
Example:
Yet, this was not the end.
('Hm?') John stirred as he felt a strange sensation enveloping him.
('Didn't I... die?')
John wasn't sure what was happening, but he was relatively certain he was to die when he last felt his consciousness slipping in the hospital, his last sight being that of hastened doctors injecting him with something or the other.
('I guess not? But what the fuck did they wrap me in? A jelly coated condom?')
He could barely move, yet could feel that he was in a fetal position though.
('I'm going to sue these motherfuckers so hard, there is no way this falls within ethical practice. Can't they just let me chill in peace for fuck's sake?') He cursed.
Just then, he felt a force pushing onto him, it seemingly pushed down on his butt attempting to push him through what seemed to be an opening of some sorts. At this point he was positive that something was definitely off, he was just far too bewildered and frightened to even attempt making heads or tails of this situation. A few seconds later, he felt his body being forced out of an opening, and that's when he panicked, calling for help.
"waaaaaaaaaa!" Was what actually escaped his mouth.
('Eh...? Did I just... cry?')
He opened his eyes, only to behold a giant woman holding him.
('No, she's not giant... I'm the one who's small!') He barely managed to glance with his stubbornly half-closed eyes, at his clenched folded tiny arms, horrified.
"Quick, treat her! Her breathing is dangerously shallow and pupils are dilated."
What ensued was a long session of attempting to stabilize his biological mother's condition. The presumed-doctors and nurses all diligently performed variety of actions with great determination, but alas, to no avail. Slowly but surely, her eyes lost their light, yet they never once turned away from John.
"Time of death, 17:42."
John didn't understand the language they spoke, but he understood what had happened. Although he still half-believed this was some hallucination, he felt a pang of grief even as his consciousness drifted away.
('Fuck me... Please let this be a drea...')
Alas, fate deigned to ignore his wish, yet again.
**********
He woke up later that evening in a daze, yet he needed only one moment to know that that was no hallucination. He really was reborn as a baby, despite how absurd the notion seemed to him. He was in a rather small medical room, waddled in a thick towel in a wooden cradle, the room had windows on opposite sides of the room, one leading outside and the other to the corridor where he could see nurses and doctors walking through occasionally through the gaps in cradle. He glanced around only to realize he was not alone, there were several other babies just like him in their own cradles.
('An incubation room.')
He sighed. He hadn't the faintest idea where he was, but judging from the foreign language they spoke in, as well as the difference in clothing and even architecture, he was far, far away from the US.
('It's not just that, the technological level of this place is really low. Incubation rooms like this are filled with devices that monitor babies' vitals, furthermore, there was no electronic technology when they delivered me either. Even this room doesn't have any lights, just lamps.')
That being said, the lamps were strange, the source of light was not fire, which flickered whereas the the lamp's light did not waver, it most certainly wasn't electricity. In fact, as far as he could tell there was no electricity in the room at all. It really was a bewildering notion to someone from the 21st century, was there really a nation with such primitive technology? John wasn't sure.
('This is insane, this shouldn't be fucking possible. What the fuck is happening?')
('Hm?') John stirred as he felt a strange sensation enveloping him.
('Didn't I... die?')
John wasn't sure what was happening, but he was relatively certain he was to die when he last felt his consciousness slipping in the hospital, his last sight being that of hastened doctors injecting him with something or the other.
('I guess not? But what the fuck did they wrap me in? A jelly coated condom?')
He could barely move, yet could feel that he was in a fetal position though.
('I'm going to sue these motherfuckers so hard, there is no way this falls within ethical practice. Can't they just let me chill in peace for fuck's sake?') He cursed.
Just then, he felt a force pushing onto him, it seemingly pushed down on his butt attempting to push him through what seemed to be an opening of some sorts. At this point he was positive that something was definitely off, he was just far too bewildered and frightened to even attempt making heads or tails of this situation. A few seconds later, he felt his body being forced out of an opening, and that's when he panicked, calling for help.
"waaaaaaaaaa!" Was what actually escaped his mouth.
('Eh...? Did I just... cry?')
He opened his eyes, only to behold a giant woman holding him.
('No, she's not giant... I'm the one who's small!') He barely managed to glance with his stubbornly half-closed eyes, at his clenched folded tiny arms, horrified.
"Quick, treat her! Her breathing is dangerously shallow and pupils are dilated."
What ensued was a long session of attempting to stabilize his biological mother's condition. The presumed-doctors and nurses all diligently performed variety of actions with great determination, but alas, to no avail. Slowly but surely, her eyes lost their light, yet they never once turned away from John.
"Time of death, 17:42."
John didn't understand the language they spoke, but he understood what had happened. Although he still half-believed this was some hallucination, he felt a pang of grief even as his consciousness drifted away.
('Fuck me... Please let this be a drea...')
Alas, fate deigned to ignore his wish, yet again.
**********
He woke up later that evening in a daze, yet he needed only one moment to know that that was no hallucination. He really was reborn as a baby, despite how absurd the notion seemed to him. He was in a rather small medical room, waddled in a thick towel in a wooden cradle, the room had windows on opposite sides of the room, one leading outside and the other to the corridor where he could see nurses and doctors walking through occasionally through the gaps in cradle. He glanced around only to realize he was not alone, there were several other babies just like him in their own cradles.
('An incubation room.')
He sighed. He hadn't the faintest idea where he was, but judging from the foreign language they spoke in, as well as the difference in clothing and even architecture, he was far, far away from the US.
('It's not just that, the technological level of this place is really low. Incubation rooms like this are filled with devices that monitor babies' vitals, furthermore, there was no electronic technology when they delivered me either. Even this room doesn't have any lights, just lamps.')
That being said, the lamps were strange, the source of light was not fire, which flickered whereas the the lamp's light did not waver, it most certainly wasn't electricity. In fact, as far as he could tell there was no electricity in the room at all. It really was a bewildering notion to someone from the 21st century, was there really a nation with such primitive technology? John wasn't sure.
('This is insane, this shouldn't be fucking possible. What the fuck is happening?')
Dude's supposed to be 59 years old but I don't buy it.
Background:
By the age of twenty-five, he had obtained a bachelor's degree in Physics and a diploma in human anatomy, and a minor degree in statistics and probability. Armed with the knowledge of these three fields as his foundation, he spent all his time performing research on martial arts and combat sports. He would perform surveys, studies and experiments on different martial arts and gather data on several variables and attributes on them and draw conclusions as well as hypotheses based on them before publishing them in respected peer-reviewed journals.
And then, he died. At the age of fifty-nine, his already-compromised lungs collapsed, and he passed away a peaceful death.
And then, he died. At the age of fifty-nine, his already-compromised lungs collapsed, and he passed away a peaceful death.
I don't mind swearing, it can be a powerful tool when used appropriately but when used so blatantly without a story reason [example: used to be a gangster], I can't help but think I'm reading something immature written by an angsty teen. It reads like cringe to be honest.
