We want to especially thank an elite core of Odyssey II writers:
Those deviants truly embodying the spirit of the project by continuing to create and submit next chapters – no matter the story’s refusal to go along with their proposed direction. The zeitgeist is a powerful force, but the artist must know when to sail against the been-there-done-that. And our writers, artists and poets have been doing that week after week. So many artists and writers continue to send in wonderful material week after week.
We have decided to extend the writing deadline for the last chapter to December 31 and we're expanding the Word count to 800 words for our final chapter! Artists will then have two full weeks to illustrate our final chapter - meaning artwork for Chapter 8 will be due by January 14, 2013. Any Animations/films and poetry deadlines are now extended until Jan 14! We will then unleash, I mean publish, this tale of Paul’s very unexpected journey!
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Elite Core Odyssey Participants - Profile 1
Odyssey II Ch.7 entry: The Truth Of The War-QueensIn the warehouse, Tal'shen, now with full control, fought with Maya.
Only scant miles away, in an abandoned building, Lysanna felt the tether to her offspring slipping. She panicked and made one last attempt to turn this around.
Paul was someplace… else.
His conscious mind had been pulled, by Lysanna, to a non-place. A place of memories.
Paul was assaulted by remembrance, by knowledge, by understanding, of a life not his own. A three thousand year old tale in the time it took his heart to beat only once.
A race of people with skin like ever-shifting stained glass.
A race divided and at war with reasons long forgotten. The Prime Leaders, Lysanna and Maya, sisters and only direct progeny of the people's once mighty Godking, at conflict for far too long. Their reproduction by way of a mutagenic reclamation, this ability to overtake one another was also their primary weapon. For ages they battled, taking over each other, again and again. Neither side ever truly winning. In time, natural
Sayuri14, packed with dramatic action every time. No longer startled to read such compelling hard action being produced by young female writers. This writer packs a real punch.
The AegeansPaul slowly opened his eyes, trembling at the thought of what he would found. The Proxitol had sent him into a deep slumber with blurred visions of a crumbling city... a flash of silver... blood, and big, pale eyes staring out of the dark. A shriek and the sound of broken glass had awakened him, but after scanning the room, Paul found himself alone. It was windowless, with one lightbulb and a single black door. He sat up in his bed with much difficulty, his body was stiff and heavy, as if lead ran in his veins instead of blood.
Indeed, there was something else running through his veins...
Paul peered at the rash in his thigh and was shocked to see that despite the drug’s effect, it had spread: no longer a colorful myriad, but decaying gray. His fingers were about to touch it when the door opened. Maya strutted in, her weaponry jingling in a sinister tone and a syringe of Proxitol gleaming in her hand
SeldinTaase’s psychological observations. His observations on intergalactic psyches lent a whole new dimension to the story as political drama. His noirish text was pleasingly atmospheric, a difficult feat to achieve with such limited space.
ConvergencePaul hid behind the darkness of his eyelids summoning the courage and strength to open them. The pain in his head was clearing but he watched the room spin as the churning in his stomach made him retch.
"Good to see you awake."
The voice snapped Paul from his delirium and he pushed himself to sitting. A frightfully well-dressed man sat in a large leather chair near the foot of the bed.
"Who the fuck are you? Paul demanded.
"I'm Doctor Bailey." he said.
Paul fought back the urge to vomit as he scratched at the IV needle taped to his arm.
"Where am I? How long have I been here?"
"It's rather...complicated." Bailey replied. "You collapsed on the pavement in front of your hotel. You were taken to hospital and we've been looking after you."
Paul didn't like the doctor's hesitation. There was a malevolence in Bailey's voice that kept Paul's heart and mind racing.
"A little over a fortnight."
Paul was on the verge of panic. He wanted to scream - to RUN<
EmpyP, of the consistently smoothly-written prose, well-imagined. Her description of these weird sisters internecine struggle is knowingly executed.
Odyssey II: Chapter 7 - Shared Intelligence
Odyssey II: Chapter 7 - Shared Intelligence
Paul was vomited out in a particularly violent spasm.
Nothing more than a brown, green, gray swirling mass of fluid and gunk on a dirty floor, Paul moved on pure instinct. Still confused, he moved slowly, oozing toward the nearest heart source and beating heart.
Maya continued hacking at Paul's former body, unaware of the organism slipping over the patent leather of her boot until it was sliding through her sock and skin.
Her exertion caused her body to absorb Paul quickly and within moments she carried her own flashing multi-colored scales. Inside, two minds – both foreign to the human body they inhabited – fought for space and control.
"Settle down," Maya ordered once she accepted that she could not expel Paul. "We are in this together now, like it or not. And we have to hurry, or Lysanna's plan will come to fruition and destroy the human race entirely. She's going to contaminate the supply of drinking water for London with her pro
markmywords85, with such clever turns of phrase. No wonder one of his chapters was chosen. His rollicking prose feels like a dragster race down a mountainside. Yet it somehow arrives at precisely the moment to delver the most narrative impact.
A Shower and a Change"Ah, damn. God damn."
The stain was small, no larger than a coin. It fell near his right hip, nestled in the dip between crotch and thigh. Still, it was nauseating. Paul stripped off the trousers and walked to the sink, hoping the sliver of hotel soap would take out the spot.
He began running the hot water and paused, staring at the vomit. Resisting the urge to gag, he grazed his fingers over the stain. It was purely liquid and slick like dish soap, but the sickly brown could only be vomit. He slowly raised his hand to his face and sniffed his fingers. Nothing. It seemed, for a moment, odorless. But no, he suddenly caught a faint scent of metal. Like a cup full of coins. Or a bloodied nose.
"Shit!" A stream of blood ran down his nostrils, over his lip and down his chin. Paul dropped the trousers to the bathroom floor and watched the b
Kill-Natalie, whose vibrant kinetic wordsmithery is always a pleasure to read. A young artist with a sense of grotesquerie that’s quite remarkable.
EsselPratt, whose descriptions of the intersection of knife’s blade and human flesh are so effectively frightful. But he is also quite good at bringing in a real sense of humanity and human needs, even in an extreme horror story. There is no sense of the perfunctory in his heart-hewn writing.
Odyssey II, Chapter 8: A New WorldPaul wanted to leave right away. His newfound vigor urged him to summon all of his strength just to destroy Tal'Shen for infecting him. Maya would not allow it. Instead, she forced him to lie still while his body continued to heal.
"The human body is a complicated machine, it takes time to heal" whispered Maya.
In reality, she wanted to make sure that it was only Paul remaining in the vessel. She had a strange sense that he was not alone. As though there was something other than Tal'Shen inside.
"What happens next?" inquired Paul.
"I don't know. Tal'Shen has grown too large for her existence. She will cease to be soon. It is her own doing, and saves us from a losing battle."
"So, it is over?" Paul had a smile on his face.
"Not exactly" Maya seemed worried. "Tal'Shen was nothing more than a virus that Lysanna implanted in you. She put it there to destroy something else. Something much bigger."
"So she was helping me?"
"No…" Maya felt she should explain more. She owed it
The atmosphere of friendly competition, mutual aid when needed and fulsome community that has endured throughout all the glitches and hiccups of Odyssey and Odyssey II is something I will always be grateful to have beheld and well worth all the 4 a.m. technical meltdowns. Hopefully this is only the beginning of many such innovative projects. The real prize in this “contest” is witnessing how deviants and other creative entities from around the world can come together in a mere flash of time to help each other build something unique in storytelling that points to the very future of the written narrative.