"Lang Passages" by TATAbox

Title: Lang Passages
Author: the TATAbox 
Writing: homework
Word Count: 298
Warning: Beware of awesomeness.


The adult lives on the surface of the world; he lives in depressed, uninspiring steel-and-
concrete nature; he reacts without emotion, and he secures himself solely around his
surroundings. The child does not see the world as it is; he sees it only as an extension
and reflection of his mind, the unlimited universe his domain. Both are ignorant. The
ignorance of the child who lives in his dreams is such that he does not know the reality
and powerful inspirations of life. The ignorance of the adult deprives him of the power
to open his mind to the “impossible.” While he is not lacking in knowledge and thinking
ability, his inner eye is shut to the beauty of the ordinary as well as the rare because of
relinquished imagination that might give him a myriad of possibilities in his rigid world of
profits and because of his dying childhood heart that should have freed him from all his
self-placed limitations. Adulthood, though normally seen as childhood’s improvement, is
instead the continuance of childhood on different degrees.
---


Books, the portals to new worlds and dreams, have revolutionized the world in
unacknowledged ways. For the luckily educated, books build bridges back to the age
of wizards, fairies, and other far reaches of the Old World that draws innocents in and
frees them imbibed with mental seeds of romanticism and imagination shooting tall. For
the luckily educated, books reach out to the deep, dark unknown, bringing forth thrilling
terror, macabre murders, even majestic horrors, which resurface ten-fold in sweat-
breaking nightmares. For the luckily educated, books thrust – peppered with sweet
remnants of happy moments – unthinkably cruel reality into their readers’ faces. For the
luckily educated, these records of ink and paper impart knowledge, pain, or excitement –
all starting with a single word.


Artist's Note: Hi... I am now a temporary writer for DiW. Dunno if I can meet the goal, but I'll write occasionally at least :D However, I am an avid DiW fan! So lemme know what you think of this :D


Silver's note: :D A first non Lewis or Silver post! <3!! 

The Importance of Being Earnest End Scene Assignment

Title: The Importance of Being Earnest End Scene Assignment
Authors: Lewis,Silver Ink and esteemed guest author Oscar Wilde
Writing: Collaboration/ Homework Assignment
Word Count: 479

Prism: Some tea, Lady Bracknell?
Bracknell: Yes, please. (awkward silence) Miss Prism, it is plain that something is troubling you. Come now, out with it.
Prism: Yes, yes. Forgive my awkwardness. (pause) Do you remember the events just after Mrs. Moncrieff’s untimely death?
Bracknell: Of course! What of my sister’s death?
Prism: You will recall that Mrs. Moncrieff entrusted me with the task of delivering her baby to you then? (Bracknell nods and Prism continues, agitated) For some reason, I have been thinking about the poor baby. See, I had set him in my handbag for the journey. I was occupied for but a moment and then both babe and bag had vanished!
Bracknell: I see. That is most unfortunate. The poor lad-- where could he have gone?
Prism: I never found out....
---------------------------------------------------
Jack: This is extremely strange. I am wandering the streets with a handbag at my side, a pink handbag no less. (sigh) But it is my only clue to finding my mother. (pause, looks around) I suppose I might as well start somewhere, but how? ...oh look! What coincidence to meet a familiar face here. (Approaches Prism) Good morrow, Miss Prism! Would you happen to know whose handbag this is?
Prism: (look of shock) Why, my bag! I haven’t seen for years. (takes bag) Thank you, Mr. Worthing. How did you chance upon it?
----------------------------------------------------
Jack: Miss Prism, more is restored to you than the handbag. I was the baby placed in it.
Miss Prism: you?
Jack: yes (embracing her) Mother!
Miss Prism: (recoiling in indignant astonishment) Mr. Worthing, I am unmarried!
Jack: Unmarried! I do not deny that this is a serious blow. But, after all, who has the right to cast a stone against one who has suffered? Why should there be one law for men and another for women? Mother! I forgive you!
Miss Prism: Mr. Worthing, there is some error. (pointing to Bracknell) There is the lady who can tell you who you really are.
Jack: Lady Bracknell, I hate to seem inquisitive, but would you kindly inform me who I am?
Lady Bracknell: I am afraid that the news I have to give you will not altogether please you. You are the son of my poor sister, Mrs. Moncrieff, and consequently Algernon’s elder brother.
Jack: Algy’s elder brother! Then I have a brother after all! I knew I had a brother!
Prism: What is your Christian name now that you have become someone else?
Jack: What name was I given? Let me know the worst.
Lady Bracknell: (after a pause) Being the eldest son, you were christened after your father.
Jack: Yes, but what was my father’s Christian name?
Lady Bracknell: I remember now that the General was called Ernest.
Prism: Ernest! I felt from the first time you could have no other name. Congratulations!
Jack: (dazed smile/ thank you)

Artist Note (Posted by Silver Ink): :D

So for our Drama class, Lewis and I were given a scene from a published play (in this case, Oscar Wilder's The Importance of Being Earnest and instructed to build up our improvisation to this final scene. We were allowed to--and did--edit the end scene a little bit. Edits: The last few lines, where three people speak at once were edited out; Gwendolyn is made Prism in the end scene because we only have three actresses.

Casting:

Lewis---------Prism

Silver--------Jack

[Friend]-----Bracknell

Lewis had read the play before, but we were not supposed to copy the original, hence this "spinoff/ fanfiction/ fan-alternate-fiction-object" :D You like? Please tell us what you think!

~SilverInk

P.S. SAT SUX.

P.P.S. SAT should go die.

P.P.P.S. SAT should give me a 2400 and go away for good.

P.P.P.P.S. This does count as our post this week XP

P.P.P.P.P.S. Unless one of us happen to find something else to post or manage to finish EVERYTHING in time to pull something else up. Which probably won't happen, unfortunately.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Maybe. Wish us luck! :D

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I'm hoping to finish a painting this weekend ;)

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. But considering how much I have to get done, that probably won't happen.

P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. There are nine post scripts on this O:)

The Point of an Eraser

Title: The Point of an Eraser

Author: Lewis
Writing: point-of-view

Word Count: 747

Disclaimer: I do not own Tombow or MONO or anything of the sort. Thank you.

I am an eraser of the MONO variety- easily recognizable in a black-and-blue striped paper jacket and a plastic wrapping. The eraser is one of the most popular and well-used school supply materials around. There’s just one problem: being an eraser is an ensured path to doom.

It’s not as if I don’t realize how noble my existence is. I was created to remove the humans’ errors without a trace, to give them another chance to improve their work. I am a vital component of their daily lives. I am proud of myself and my cause. But I have realized that I will fulfill my destiny at the cost of my own life. Every day, my owner puts me to the paper using a cruel, almost bruising hold. As she erases, bits and pieces of me crumble away, as my rubbery form is unable to handle the paper’s abrasive surface. I am dragged over the paper repeatedly until my owner is satisfied with her work. She brushes the rubber scraps onto the floor, and returns me to the pencil box. Having lost too much weight, I exhaustedly recline in my designated corner.

Even more than gradually wearing away, I fear being broken into pieces. I’ve seen it happen to other erasers before. It begins as a tiny, almost unnoticeable crack one’s surface, forming due to some careless use. The crack spreads (like a tumor), an ever-present threat. One day, the owner uses his/her eraser a little too harshly, and it breaks apart. Sometimes it’s only a small chunk that breaks off a corner. Sometimes the eraser breaks in half. It doesn’t matter what size the chunk is, or how many pieces there are; the effect is the same. Thus, an eraser’s entire life is doomed once it cracks. To remain damage-free, an eraser needs to be kept without being used, and that in itself - denying an eraser its original purpose- is a torture too cruel to bear. No matter what happens to an eraser, its fate is the same. I’ve become somewhat accustomed to the idea, depressing as it sounds. Truth be told, I haven’t been able to discuss this with any other eraser yet, but I am pretty sure that what I’ve assumed is right.

Today, I have a little more than half of me still remaining. My owner has an annoying habit of wanting to clean off the dirty spots that are left after me after use- she cleans it off by erasing even more. After being placed back on the school desk, I survey my surroundings in boredom. One of my owner’s classmate friends passes by and stops to chat, placing her school materials beside me. A small eraser the size of a penny, worn to the point of being useless, rolls by. It’s an elder eraser, I realize with astonishment. Remembering that humans usually look to their elders for advice, I attempt to catch his attention.

“Sir,” I call. “Do you have a moment?” I tell him my thoughts.

The elder eraser- his name is Yorick- answers without hesitation. “Worry not, young eraser. It is not that erasers have no point in being created. Just as all humans will die at some point- long as their life spans are- all erasers will disappear. It is just a part of life. Have you ever read your owner’s writing?”

Bemused, I tell him that I have not. Why does he sound like the solution is so simple?

“Then you are missing out on a whole new plane of ideas. Try reading it next time, and you’ll see. We may have been made just to erase, but we make so many things easier for the humans. Without us, how many times would your owner be wasting pencil lead over scratching out her mistakes? Just how much cleaner did you make the paper, and how much was your owner able to improve her work with your help? You will only regain true peace of mind when you realize just how much you are involved in the creation of these masterpieces. Go forth, child, and learn. I bid you farewell!”

With that, Yorick leaves. My owner resumes writing after jokingly sending her friend away. Such a distracted girl. Yorick’s words leave me confused and bewildered, and I wonder how anything coming from a human like this can give my life any meaning. Within moments, she picks me up and begins to erase.

-----------------------------------

Haha, so I seem to be writing about the most random things-- the bus, and now an eraser? The bus was purely impulse; I just started riding the bus on my own today! I will no longer be ignorant of buses :) I want to ride with my friends some day. And the eraser... it was an assignment in my summer school class.

Today, our summer school teacher read picture books to us, as well as a Grimm Brothers' version of Cinderella. I just can't get that part -where the stepsisters' eyes get pecked out - out of my head :( And we're supposed to write a retelling of one or another version through another's point of view. One friend says that I should write from the point of view of the carnivorous (human-eye-eating) pigeons.

So thank you for reading! ~Lewis