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Madmen Have the Best Stories
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Deviant for 4 Years
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Why Didn't Somebody Say Something?
        Why had no-one said anything before? The question bugged Alan senseless, especially after this morning, and it was all thanks to ice cream.
            Ice-cream–everyone screams for it, everyone needs, everyone loves it! Yet, for some reason, Alan’s parents never bothered to mention how everyone eats it. At some point in his life, they could’ve said, “Hey, Alan, here! Take this spoon” or “Alan, use this cone.” But nooo, they just sat by and smiled.
    So, when Alan went to the school café for the first time and bought a small cup of ice-cream, he wondered why all the other kids started snicker at him.
    “Uh, Ronald?” Alan tapped his friend’s shoulder, sitting next to him. “Why’s everyone giggling?”
    Ronald, who’d been grinning the ent
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You're the Writer, Not the Grammarian
The Pit
            One of the biggest problems a beginner writer–and even a seasoned one at times–can have is falling into the Grammar Pit: the place where a writer becomes too focused on the grammar of their piece than on the piece itself. What is worse is that they do not even realize they have fallen in due to its benign and subtle nature. They start sliding into the pit once they start asking questions amid their writing which are better left for afterwards such as: “Was it supposed to be who or whom?”, “Is that Oxford Comma needed?”, or “Is this sentence fragment okay?”
            If these questions were brought to a Grammar Nazi or–worse–to a Grammarian
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Dusk (Part 2)
    The silence felt deafening to Derek. He hadn’t dared move since he fallen, and the only thing perceived was the rhythmic sound of his labored breathing.
    Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
    Nothing else filled the soundless void. The upstairs had gone silent. No roar of the raging inferno that almost turned him into a pile of ashes, no rumbles from the dark dragon’s footsteps. Just his own mesmerizing breaths.
    The musky scent of damp cedar filled his nostrils every time he drew in a gulp of the cool air. He’d felt like someone who’d taken a tumble down the mountainside when he’d first arrived, now he felt like fresh roadkill–his side hurt like hell, his leg hated him, and now his aching shoulder blades despised him. Yet, he had not moved.
    You can’t stay like this forever, an inner voice said to him.
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Dusk (Part 1)
    “IS SOMEONE THERE!?” Derek’s voice echoed throughout the evening silence. The oak leaves above bristled in the wind, oblivious to the young man’s cries below. His limped form hobbled over to one of the trees and caught it to keep from collapsing. He rested a shoulder against it, drinking gulps and gulps of air as beads of sweat ran down his cheeks and into his eyes. He closed his eyes, wiped them, and tried to calm himself, but his stubborn lungs refused and demanded more oxygen.
            He placed a hand over his abdomen and winced as lighting shot through his side. It took all his strength to stay put and keep from falling over. After the pain softened from a burning sensation to a bearable throb, he gazed down at his side. He lifted his hand to see a large, wet, red stain bleeding through his t-shirt, growing wider and wider and wider.
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Excerpt from “The Soulless Wanderer”
    Merik[1] opened his eyes only to slam them shut as the light of the sun jabbed into them.
    “Agh,” he grunted then rolled onto his back with a groan. He winced as a fiery pain flared within his abdomen and a thousand hammers pounded the inside of his head. He grasped both his side and his head and, with a grit of his teeth, forced himself to sit up. Another wave of pain rolled through his body accompanied by a brief sense of vertigo. He sat still and waited several seconds for another wave of agony to pass before finally opening his eyes. When he did, he forgot about the pain and remembered where he was.
    As far as the eye could see the ocean stretched on and on without end.
    No land. No ship. No rescue. No an
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The Brook
    One glance. That’s all it took. Just one, meaningless little glance at the setting sun, and then my life changed. My eyes should’ve been on the road–should’ve been on the car in the next lane, should’ve seen the drunk driver before it was too late and hit the brakes. But no. My mind and my eyes were too busy enjoying the florescent red of the sun upon the river below, the Danube. Within those few brief seconds, I thought about how I’d describe to my folks all I’d seen that day: the walk through the Black Forest, the tour of Freiburg’s campus, and of course, the wonderful people of Germany. The moment ended when something slammed into the driver side. One moment I was gazing out through the passenger side’s window, the next I was flying towards it, only my seatbelt yanked me back into place. “What the-!?” was all I could get out before I saw the view in the windshield change from a setting sun to the on
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The Fourteenth
    So I suppose this is the part where you guys see a new piece from me and say, “Oh boy! It’s Valentine’s Day and J.T. just released a new story! I wonder if it’ll be about Kayla or that girl from “Aftermath” or Legend from that story, “Blood Moon Lake.”’ And those are all good guesses, but, unfortunately, incorrect ones. Don’t get me wrong, I did think about writing a story involving some of my characters from Seven Days–because we both know that Kayla must love that holiday while J.T. hates it–but, as you can see, I decided against it. Instead, I have chosen to write to you a little bit about this wonderful holiday that’s been around for over a century and what it has to do with both me and you: my readers.
            To start, Valentine’s Day isn’t about that heart shaped card that you plan to gift to your
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A Second Chance
    She stayed up almost the entire night debating over the decision. Jennifer glanced over to the clock hanging above the stove across from the table she sat at. The long hand pointed at four and the short hand at eleven.
            I take that back, she thought. This decision did take up the whole night. She sighed, then after a brief moment, chuckled. Here she had a second chance–another chance for her life to go the way she always wanted it to–yet she found the weight of it almost as unbearable as her parents.
            Her parents… Her fists clenched as she recalled the years of sitting alone in the living room with her brother, the drunken yells of her elder brother, and overall absence of love. Everything a parent ought to be, everything a family should’ve been, they hadn’t.
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'Next time, answer when I call you.' by jjtninja 'Next time, answer when I call you.' :iconjjtninja:jjtninja 11 7
Seven Days Log 6 (Part 2)
    The large welt on my forehead throbbed when I awoke. It was dark now; the storm I had seen earlier that day had finally arrived. I was still in the forest, but nowhere near its edge. The wind was blowing hard through the trees and lightning would light up the area every few minutes.
    Why am I still alive? I prodded my forehead with a single finger only to flinch in pain. I got lucky. I only got hit by the dull end of the hatchet.
    Still hurt, though. I sat up just as lightning struck. The area around me lit up, revealing Toby standing in front of me with a hatchet in each hand–the new looking one he’d hit me with earlier was in his left hand, while an old worn one with a wooden handle was in his right. His bandana was back on and he pulled down his goggles (well, at least I didn’t have to see his mouth anymore).
    “Hi, t
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A Eulogy
“Do you want blueberries or chocolate chips?” The sweet voice of my grandmother asked me.
            I leaned against the ancient iron stove she kept in the kitchen, lost in my thoughts. It was an early Tuesday morning, seven o’clock to be exact, and Christmas was less than five days away. My grandmother had invited my family over that morning for her homemade waffles – a specialty of hers that no rational person ever turns down.
            “James?” She called again.
            I didn’t answer. I was lost in the idea of writing a story involving werewolves – not that I knew how to write at the time. I had a hard enough time writing essays for my teachers, and I hated knowing that as I progressed through the eleventh grade, it’d only get harder.
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The Ending
“Do you plan it?”
            I stared at the question for several seconds. What do you mean? Is he asking about plotlines? Or…?  He needed to elaborate.
            “Plan what exactly?” I typed, then leaned back in my leather seat, waiting for an answer.
            A few seconds passed then Skype’s familiar “Pop!” notification rang out with the reply.
    “The Ending.” It read.
    “Oohhh.” I closed my eyes then raised them towards the ceiling. I opened them to see the fan above spinning in a graceful loop – reminding me way too much of my life’s current direction.
    I looked back to the screen and thought for a few seconds on how to answer the question. Qu
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Calm Waters by jjtninja Calm Waters :iconjjtninja:jjtninja 12 7 Dusk by jjtninja Dusk :iconjjtninja:jjtninja 16 2
    The girl’s gray eyes narrowed in concentration as she worked. She raised her right hand high while steadying the left at her chest, clenching it so hard that the skin turned red. The water from the school’s indoor pool mimicked her every gesture as it rose into the air.
            “Come on,” Katrina murmured under her breath, pushing herself to go. “You can do this. You’ve done this hundreds of times with the water in glasses.” Perhaps that was an overstatement, as the amount of water in a small, glass cup wasn’t even close to the amount in a pool. But Katrina chose not to think about that.
            She spread her hands apart, causing the water to follow suit and solidify into a large floating square, almost like a metal panel or shee
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Remained Buried
The Truth shall set you free. The Truth shall set you free. The Truth shall set you free. The Truth shall set you free.
That phrase always keeps coming back to me, no matter how many times I try burying the memory.
It’s a freaking cancer that I can’t chemo the crap out of and pray it’ll die. Because no matter how many times it’s removed, some small piece gets left behind and grows back and keeps growing until it smothers you.
I tried to forget. I tried to forgive. I tried to move on. I tried everything, yet still I find myself here.
Here, tortured. Here, knowing the truth would eventually find me.
One year passed. Two years passed. Three years passed. Four years passed. Five years passed.
Yet each year, I refused to look back. I refused to see it.
So when the sixth year went to pass, it was far too late to run and to hide and to return.
I’d missed my chance.
I was confronted by six of them. Six men, dressed the same, wanting a
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So it's come, the New Year. Time for an Update:
So first off: if it's not obvious, I wasn't able to finish the story in time. I'm sorry about that, I'm Sorry Smiley  but don't lose hope yet. Please Wait Fella (messages) I've been working on the story for most of the month and made significant progress on it: about 50 pages in and still counting (and I'm not even to the halfway point of it yet!). Not only that, during the brief breaks I've taken from the manuscript, I've been working on another project with a close friend of mine on here that I believe you may enjoy: A comic/visual novel! Put your fingers in the air  I'd go into detail, but I can't reveal too much about it other than it'll involve a carefree and stubborn college guy and a hard, socially-inverted girl with a secret and no, this isn't one of the 'OMG! It's a Cliché Romance, isn't it!!!' stories.NOT amused  I know it may sound like that, it may appear like that (depending on how the reader sees the start), but it really isn't. I'll let you know when I can, but I'll have to check in with my compadre first. wink :P 

Until then, I hope everyone's year was great and if it wasn't, well, we've got another year ahead of us to make up for it. :) So, cheers guys and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! :)
:HappyNewYear: Party 
  • Listening to: the silence.
  • Reading: The Word.
  • Watching: Life.
  • Playing: The Field.
  • Drinking: Water.


jjtninja's Profile Picture
Artist | Professional | Varied
United States
There's not much to be said about me. I'm just your regular college graduate trying to survive this crazy and dangerous journey we call "Life".
I'm known for writing the Creepypasta series "Seven Days" both here, and on Creepypasta Wiki.
I love reading, acting, writing, playing video games, Urban Exploring, and Stories. No matter what form it's in, a terrific story is still a terrific story.
You can find me here:

Oh, and by the way, I DO NOT DO TAGS....thank you.

Ask Me stuff:

So tell me, do you truly wish for a story? ~J.T.

Stamps that describe me:
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Vickicutebunny Featured By Owner 2 days ago
Hi! and Welcome to the group drawfanclub
jjtninja Featured By Owner 2 days ago  Professional General Artist
Vickicutebunny Featured By Owner 2 days ago
:happybounce: Huggle! 
codyshrum22 Featured By Owner Dec 19, 2017  New Deviant Student Writer
thanks for the Llama badge 
rzkstyles260 Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Watched you from :iconpointznow:
LucieRibeiro Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I watched you from :iconpointznow:!
midnightclubx Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2017  Student Writer
Thanks for the watch! :)
jjtninja Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2017  Professional General Artist
Don't mention it. I just found your comic series and caught up to the current one in less than 15 minutes. From one writer to another, it's pretty good. :)
midnightclubx Featured By Owner Oct 30, 2017  Student Writer
Glad you're liking it so far. :D
darkangel6021 Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday ^^

birthday cake MenInASuitcase Birthday cake  icon 
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