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LUE 3001 - Introduction to Creative Writing 18/1/24

Correction of Cliches

Michael had been sleeping like a bear in winter, which was unusual for him. He was normally awakened by the golden rays of the early sun but he slept through his alarm today. He looked in the mirror and looked at the old familiar scar under his left eye. “I think it’s fading” he said to himself “but I still need to get that tooth looked at, I guess that was impossible with the towers of papers on my desk.” He looked at his eyes which held enormous weight, he’d go all out on weekend but regret soon followed the morning after. His Creative Writing class was starting today but it was already late and he despaired knowing that he wouldn’t not get in on time.

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My name is Hermenegildo Coronel La'O IV, but everyone calls me Jeo. I'm a Filipino born in Los Angeles which grew up in Hong Kong. Growing up in Hong Kong was a challenge for me as I went to an international school that discouraged the use of the local language. As none of my parents knew Cantonese, I had to get by with reading the tones and gestures of locals to communicate throughout the years. My favorite past times are playing online games with overseas friends and Fencing with my team here in Lingnan.

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As I enter the room I  am engulfed by silence. It's an eerie silence, a silence that makes even the most introverted person wary of its presence. Deeper into the room there is silence’s sole accomplice, the dark. A partnership prevalent in many dreary scenes and movies. I am afraid. Another step is a step too far. Rather another step means acknowledging a third party. But I take the step anyway because I see light ahead and light will always be a safe haven for those with a fear of what lurks. As I approach the light I notice a chair dead centre of the room. An old white foldable chair with rusts on its side. The haven I once knew introduced the third party I was weary about; isolation. Knowing you’re alone is comforting for some, but for those whose thoughts are their own worst enemy, it is hell itself. For me, being alone always warrants the idea of the possibility that I AM NOT. The unknown beings in the back of my mind turn to reality. The creaky of pipes turn into the giggles of the ill-intentioned, the gusts of wind become the breaths down my neck. How am I to know for certain and that truly scares me. True, there might not be anything, but might is not good enough in the dark.

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Key Feature of Spoken Word Poetry

1. Hand gesture

2. Eye Contact

3. Facial Expressions

4. Pauses

5. Mood, attitude

6. Tempo/Speed

7. Emphasis/Repetition

8. Interaction

9. Simile, Metaphors, Rhyme, ect.

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Exposition/inciting incident:

Ashitaka saves his village from a giant demon but is cursed in the processes. He is told that the demon was once a boar god and that the iron ball that killed him was the reason for his demonification. He is told that the curse will slowly kill him if he doesn’t find a way to undo it. They suggest that he is to go west to a forest where the boar god resided to find the cause and perhaps a solution.

Rising Action

On the way to the forest, Ashitaka comes across a caravan which is under siege by two giant wolves and a warrior named San. He aids the villagers in fighting them off and is invited to stay at their nearby hometown. Their town is a refuge for outcasts and mainly produces iron and firearms. Ashitaka stays and helps the village with labour work and is granted audience to the person in charge, Lady Eboshi. She explains that she clear-cuts the local forest to create mines to harvest the iron rich ground underneath. This angered the local Daimyo,Asano, and the boar god, to which she admits to shooting and killing herself. She offered Ashitaka a place in her ranks as she plans to kill the deity of the forests, the Night Walker, and bring its head to the emperor in exchange for power. During their conversation, San snuck in and attacks Eboshi whom defends herself well. Ashitaka, still shocked that Eboshi is the reason he is cursed, subdues both of them while getting shot in the process. Wounded, he carries the unconscious and vulnerable San to the forest where San reluctantly brings him to the Night Walker who heals him although his curse remains. San was raised by the wolf god Moro alongside Moro’s cubs as one of them. The decimation of their home, the forests, had led an all out war between town and the spirits.

The following day the blind second boar god, Okkoto, prepares his army of boars alongside Moro, her wolves, and San for an attack on the town to which Ashitaka warns them of their impending defeat. Okkoto ignores this and carries on with the attack. His army is decimated and San retreats, but Eboshi and her soldiers dressed themselves in boar skin to trick the blind boar as Okkoto runs straight for the Night Walker to be healed.

Climax

San and Ashitaka fail and the Night Walker is decapitated by Eboshi. The body of the Night Walker spills ooze onto the land that kills everything it touches as Eboshi runs with the head in hopes of escape.

Falling Action

Ashitaka and San give chase and manage to reobtain the head of the Night Walker. They return the head to the body and Ashitaka is healed from his curse in the process.

Conclusion

The village witnesses the power of spirits and plans to stop their exploitation of the land, San helps regulate the peace between the town and the spirits. Healed, Ashitaka returns home to lead his village.

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Take a step forward

Most do it with ease

A foot in front

And step as you please

As easy as this is

I’ve disguised my unease

Cause I’m paralysed with all the possibilities

So I’ll wait

Try walking when it's dark in front of you

And all you hear is talking about what you’re supposed to do

Because they say they figured it out

And when I doubt them they shout and say “You don’t know what you’re talking about”.

So I’ll wait

I’ll be like stone

Still, no will, until the the hills fill with thrill

Then, I’ll take that step forward

But when, who knows when?

But I’ll show them

I’ll wait

I’ll wait since that moment is a moment way

And on that day displayed on a platter

So no matter what say again,

Ignore them

And just wait

And wait

And wait

Until your whole life goes by

and you never dared

To admit all this time you were scared

To take that step forward

When you take this step forward, you take it with pride

With courage that awards those who have tried

But where is that bravery and will when I fail

I’m still because of what it entails

It’s disappointment that keeps piling up

as doubt festers like rots and just interrupts

Any courage that I manage just vanishes

And I give in and give up because

Its easy

to wait

Just don’t

Don’t wait

You won’t be ferried to a better hand

As your friends leave you with your feet buried in the sand

Please understand it's better if you

Don’t wait

Yes it's harder but my father invested in me and his daughters

And they harbour the courage that I lack

And I still remain a bother

So Don’t wait

Then hate the state that your in

Because you hesitate just to go straight

Don’t you contemplate if it's too late

Because its not

It’s not

Don’t wait

It’s not fate that decides when you move

Its you who's too scared to lose so

So prove to yourself you’re more than your words

And take that step forward toward the person you want to be

Don’t wait

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The entrance to the cave was pitch black with only a rope, imbued with light, dimly lighting the path through the cave. All their efforts to light torches were quickly snuffed as the wind emanating from the cave blew them out. The thought of a journey through the dark was unsettling to the four travellers but this was the quickest way to the otherside of the mountain. The four of them agreed to progress through the cave in hopes of reaching their destination in time, but as they began their decent following the light-touched rope, they noticed markings on the wall with a message that was repeatedly etched unto the cave walls, becoming more and more deranged as the cave got bigger and the walls disappeared into the nothingness. “DON’T LEAVE THE LIGHT”.

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LUE 3001 - Introduction to Creative Writing

Broken

You were the ray of sun within the eye of the storm, where the tempests protect the still and the quiet. A lovely dove that came to me in times of war in which your presence saved blood unspilled. The needle and thread that tended to my wounds and the brace that mends my bones. Yet, you also reminded that the storm is indifferent to the wills of a man, drowning him as suddenly as it provides respite. That war breeds the grudges and hate that are not too quick to pass. That even a doctor sometimes leaves something broken.

Lost

A thick fog devoured the man as he awoke standing. His eyes struggled to adjust to the blinding white surrounding him. Nothing more than a couple feet was visible in front of him, even then, there was nothing but a rugged dirt path in front of him. A splitting headache plagued his thoughts as he aimlessly tried to remember where he was. The fog that covered the sky shrouded the answer to when it was and as he prodded deeper into his broken psyche, he was horrified to the cold absence of the answer of who he was.

Blue

Living by the coast I’ve always been entranced by the moods of the sea. On the most beautiful of days, the stillness of the water echoes an enchanting sky blue that reflects the brilliance of the sun. On the worst days, the sea throws the most violent of tantrums, casting waves at the shore with the unruly force of nature’s wrath. Yet, through its towering waves and tempest winds, I still find peace with the sea. The torrential rains pouring on my skin provide a catharsis to the mundane goings of life, the screaming winds become a melody of thrill that distracts me of the boring life that I’ve regretfully chosen to lead. The sea is my muse, in which I've grown to love every symphony it plays.

Braided Stories

You were the ray of sun within the eye of the storm, where the tempests protect the still and the quiet. On the most beautiful of days, the stillness of the water echoes an enchanting sky blue that reflects the brilliance of the sun. Yet, you also reminded that the storm is indifferent to the wills of a man, drowning him as suddenly as it provides respite. The fog that covered the sky shrouded the answer to when it was and on the worst days, you threw the most violent of tantrums, casting waves at the shore with the unruly force of nature’s wrath. Yet, The torrential rains pouring on my skin provide a catharsis to the mundane goings of life, the screaming winds become a melody of thrill that distracts me of the boring life that I’ve regretfully chosen to lead. The sea is my muse, in which I've grown to love every symphony it plays.

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He awoke to a chilling numbness. The crackling of flames roaring behind him with a blistering cold overcoming his slowly returning senses. Forcing his unwilling body, he musters up the strength to stand only to be greeted by a lonely night. The blasting sounds of the wreckage behind reverberated against the forest’s tall trees as its flames lit the snow with an amber glow. Scattered bark and split trees lay fractured around the small clearing the crash made. Pain poked within his head as his thoughts desperately tried to collect themselves until a soaring heat engulfed his back as what was left of his helicopter erupted in a deafening boom throwing him forward. His right leg seized in shock as a fractured branch pierced it. His screams echo through the empty night heard only by nature and her cold indifference. To his right lay a green drum of gas, one of many he was transporting. The drum towered over the pilot taunting him as the heat of the inferno inches its way closer and closer for another brilliant blaze. What was waiting for him was agony beyond a pierced leg. With one agonizing pull, he pulled the parasitic lumber out, freeing himself. He mustered strength to drag himself away from the hazardous cargo hoping it would be enough. The explosion rang through the forest, ultimately failing to kill him. He wasn’t safe yet, more gas drums still laid scattered. He knew he had to go as he began dredging into the cold dark.

The vexing nature of the forest is unforgiving. The twisting trees and the harsh snow make it their duty to hinder the pilot in search of rescue. The forest always looked alluring to him as he flew the smooth skies over their canopies which hide the hardened path. Fatigue pulls the pilot against a tree. He bandages his leg up the best he can with the sleeve of his shirt while damning his boss for forcing him on the last midnight delivery. Resting his head against the tree and remembers the veiling snow and sudden tempering winds guiding his flight to a disastrous end. Frustratingly, he recalled no such weather in the forecast that night as snow squalls of this caliber should have been seen hours before he left. But he doesn’t have the luxury of cursing his luck as the falling snow starts to thicken and the howling winds scream. Another storm approaches. The slivers of moonlight emanating from the trees started dimming as the pilot desperately tried to find his way back to the crash. As he struggles through the trees, the path back blurs into an unrecognizable haze. The pilot wandered aimlessly in the heavy falling snow against the frost-inducing winds. Every breath was an icy attack on his lungs and every step a searing pain. His fingers were void of all feeling as the ice crept to his arms. Every minute he prayed for salvation. A prayer that was answered. Through the haze a small opening, barely visible, appeared. The pilot made no hesitation to take shelter away from the blistering freeze.

A shallow cave spanning no more than a couple metres, hardly a shelter but he didn’t care. As long as it protected him against the unforgiving winds. A temporary respite as he rested his head against the cold stone hoping to wake to bright clear skies. His hopes were dashed as the sun was held back by clouds of hail. Pain swelled in his leg. He couldn’t face the storm like this, so he waited. An excruciating long wait as the clouds finally parted. The bright rays of sun showed the cold despair the pilot faced as his leg was unresponsive. All he could manage was a crawl. A pathetic crawl in where he fought his own body to move even an inch forward. He couldn’t do it, every ounce of his body screamed in pain and fatigue. He turned over and let his back rest against the cold snow ready to accept his fate. Fading from life, something red caught his eye as it contrasted the bright blue sky. A fruit he didn’t recognize, dangled from the bush inches from his face. The forest’s offering,not of love, but of pity. With little strength, he plucked the red spheres from its bush and let it fall into his mouth, accepting this parting gift. The bitterness thawed his frozen tongue, a terrible last meal but he was grateful to taste anything at all. As he began drifting into his last slumber, he could have swore he heard something approaching. A beast? Rescue? Perhaps he was hallucinating in his final moments or maybe death has come to take him. It didn’t matter to him. He just wanted to sleep.

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The cliffs of Anadak were a warm sight to see for travelers on their way to Anavos. The marbled gates signified the end of a grand pilgrimage for merchants and adventurers alike. However, Anadak is home to a chilling phenomenon that taunts those passing. Reverberating from within the mountain, a chilling laughter echoes. Most believe this to be the extreme winds that pass through the caves from the peaks to the base, others believe the mountain to be the local haunt of the city delinquents who humor themselves in tormenting the weary. Tales of this unsettling taunt are known to all who pass through but they remain as such: tales masking a sinister truth.

______________________________

This tale begins with 6 people. A married couple in which we refer to as the father and the mother, their unborn child, Lillia, the father’s brother, who we’ll refer as the uncle, and their porter. The rage of a passing storm halts their progress through Anadak. In search of shelter from torrential rains, they venture off path. There, amongst the shrubs and trees, a cave laid hidden. Winds, not quite as strong as the tempest tormenting them, exit from the opening and snuff out their torches upon light. Curiously, a rope laid at the entrance where it seemed to illuminate its surroundings as its body extended endlessly into the cave. The uncle, a merchant by trade, recalled rumours of old hidden passages that extended into Anavos used by the first merchants to smuggle goods and people. The storm didn’t seem to ease anytime soon and all were pressed for time as the purpose of their trip was to visit the grandparents who were on the verge of death. The parents and uncle agreed to progress through the passage and began their descent. Lillia eagerly follows behind them as to not be left behind. As they descended a cryptic message was etched to the side of the wall. An instruction that presented itself as an absolute rule: “DON’T LEAVE THE LIGHT”.

Halfway through the mountain, the earth began to shake violently. The father shielded the mother and their child while the uncle braced himself on the ground. As for the porter, he lost his balance, spilling their rations and supplies as he fell. The echoes of a landslide roar behind the party. Their entrance was sealed. Fueled with anxiety, the uncle bashes the clumsiness of the porter, scolding him mercilessly to reobtain the fallen goods. The porter frantically picked up the boxes of food and bottles of water leaving a single bottle at the edge of the light. As he cautiously walked towards it, Lillia’s eyes were fixed on him.

Suddenly, a laugh, a deafening one, echoed from the cave, startlingly the porter causing him to fall to his knees, not noticing his right hand disappearing into the void. With a violent tug, something pulled the porter into the dark.

Then silence.

No scream, no call for help, only the whistle of the wind. This eerie silence plagued the air as the remaining four were too frightened to speak as they awaited for something to reveal itself to slaughter them all. The mother stuck to her husband, terrified and trembling. Lillia watched. A minute went by. Then another. Nothing. The father remembered the words written near the entrance and knew that it wouldn't come into the light. He assured everyone if they stuck to the rope and its light they wouldn’t be harmed. With no way back, they continue forward in hopes the exit is close by.

An hour later, they finally see what seemed to be another source of light.  Craving freedom, they rushed over still gripping the rope. The father excitedly reassured his wife and child of safety. A long corridor, lined with torches, was carved into the side of the cave, protected from the wind. At the end of the path, a door. The uncle, eager to leave with his life, left the rope and the others and hurried to the doorway. The wife was eager as well and let go of the rope for a moment only to be caught by the father. His eyes followed the rope deeper into the cave. Something was off. He called out to his brother to proclaim his suspicions but his warning fell on deaf ears as the merchant was already closing in on the door. The uncle was hopeful, expecting to see the brilliant sunlight and fresh air. Lillia watched in anticipation as he reached for the door. His senses came to him as he pushed it to no avail. He desperately grabbed the sides of the door and pulled pathetically. Realisation of what this was terrified him. A wall carved to look like an exit.

Laughter.

The same one as earlier filled the corridor. As they looked around trying to locate their sadistic foe they felt something warm dripped on their face. Blood. As though it were raining, blood continuously fell from above them slowly putting the torches out one by one. The uncle desperately ran away from the false door trying to make his way back to the rope as the laughing grew more intense, seemingly entertained by his pointless struggle. Alas, with only a few steps away from safety the last torch was snuffed and the uncle was encased in nothingness. Silence. The mother still clenched to her husband and Lillia walked alongside them.

Finally, in the distance: the exit. After what seemed like hours of walking, they are finally approaching the exit. Their joy was abruptly silenced with a slight chuckle from in front of them. Between the exit and them, it lurks. Their grip on the rope tightened as they slowly and cautiously went forward. It was almost over, Lillia had to focus. The chuckling grew into a menacing laugh as the rope, their only source of light, began to flicker. The couple thought of running but that line of thought ceased as the laughter in the distance was accompanied by footsteps. As they took a step back, another set of laughter and steps rang from behind them. They were getting closer and closer from both sides. The rope kept frantically flickering but the husband gripped it as tightly as he could as it got louder and louder. It started running and laughter turned into screams. Believing it was the end, the husband turned to hug his wife only to grasp her absence. His head jerked around trying to find her only to see her making a break for the exit. He began to chase her but an instant flicker from light to black was enough for it to take her away. The flickering of the rope stopped, the husband called but to no answer.

The husband heartbrokenly limped to the exit. Greeted with a bright sun and Anavos in the distance. He could feel the rays of light warm his face, but how can he live? He lost his entire group. His porter, his brother, his wife, all dead.

He was alone.

A whisper rang from the darkness behind him. The rope’s light has ceased.

Lillia chuckles from within the pitch.

A hand slowly emerges from the black. He immediately recognized his wife’s hand and wedding ring from her finger. It opens its hand beckoning him to take it. Even knowing what taking it entails, the husband took one last look at the morning sun and took his wife’s hand one last time as he willingly stepped into the black. All while Lillia laughed, amused and satisfied.

Analysis

I tried to write a fairy tale like the Brothers Grimm. Telling the story from the third perspective as though telling a tall tale. Like in some fairy tales, only the main character gets a name while others are referred to as their roles like the evil stepmother, the fairy godmother, the big bad wolf, the prince, ect. I tried to do the same thing here with a twist. Instead of giving the protagonist the name, I gave it to the antagonist Lillia. I tried to write it as though Lillia was a part of the group. The group never acknowledges Lillia's presence. They don't interact at all with Lillia. The "mother hugs the father", "the father calls for his brother, the uncle", "the uncle scolds the porter", these 4 can be seen interacting with each other, not Lillia. Lillia's thoughts and actions can also be interpreted from either within or outside the group. For example, “Lillia watched the uncle in anticipation” can be interpreted as anticipating an possible escape as a member of the group or anticipating his failure from within the dark, "It was almost over, Lillia had to focus" can either be interpreted as someone focusing on escape, or someone focusing on their last chance to kill the remaining two people depending on the context of Lillia's position.

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Oh night sky

Whisk me away from these city lights

To a world of waltzing stars

A majestic, kind, feeting delight

How purely alluring they are

Oh stars above

Allow my stay amongst your kin

Far from the world below

Captive, in a palace I’ve never been

A grand Eden you’ve truly bestow

Oh wicked world

Keep reality from my body still

For just an hour more

As I freely enjoy these blissful thrills

Till I wake at your door

Awake to another dull life

Away from my whimsical waltzing lights

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Legend

Red arrows = movement

Green arrows = camera movement

Long then short purple lines = start of flashback

Short then long purple lines = end of flashback

Black and orange life jacket = Darren

Blue People = Mick and Mansen

Yellow Hair and orange life jacket = woman

Numbers indicate the corresponding shot

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This story was adapted from a game in 2007 called Bioshock. It's a story about a man who descends into an underwater mega city named Rapture. The city has discovered a chemical from a deep-sea slug that when injected, incubated, then extracted from children produces a potent drug, called Adam, that alters the DNA of the user allowing them to temporarily use seemingly wonderous abilities. However, this drug was very addictive and a war between the cities factions gave way to the mass use of this drug for both self-defense and murder. Over use of the drug permanently caused both physical and psychological changes to the person leading to a city full of dangerous lunatics and psychopaths. This turned the city into a drug dependent, dilapidated, nightmare dystopia where the player ends up in.

While the player in the original story is seemingly unaffected by the negative influences of Adam and shows an abnormal survival capability, the story I wanted to explore was to showcase how an ordinary man would find dystopia and when pushed to use Adam, falls to its addictions and becomes like the city residents.

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Taps into the fear of the unknown

Goal is to make the reader feel scared or uneasy

Huge emphasis on the antagonists of the series and are defined

Topics are very macabre and sometimes disturbing

Focuses on darker aspects of humanity

Writing contains dark, cold, and unsettling words and phrases to set up a similar environment.

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Similes

My friend was free as the wind.

The pizza tasted like microwaved cardboard.

Metaphors

Exams are the devil’s work.

The man was a snake amongst rats.

Personification

The stones stood stoically against the crashing waves.

The rain’s gentle touch felt calming.

Hyperbole

Me: It’s hot as hell out here!

Mom: I know right? It’s a million degrees.

Litotes

Josh isn’t really the brightest amongst us.

But he isn’t the worst clown we know

Allusion

Eating LU food with friends feels like the Last Supper sometimes.

Onomatopoeia

My hear kept pounding every time the door went BANG BANG

Alliteration

What walls wither with passive pebbles.

Oxymoron

Within the deafening silence, we stand alone, together.

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This serves as a warm up to the creative brain. In this exercise, we are shown an image and write anything about the topic. The catch is that you aren't allowed to stop writing to think. Your pen must always be writing so anything that comes to mind is written down. This leads to a lot of grammatical errors which is fine as this is an exercise to warm up.

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Every story needs a structure that provides a solid foundation to it. The most common is the Classic Story Structure that has an Introduction (introduces characters and settings), Rising Action (building upon the problems the characters have), Climax (the pivotal choice that is the result of the character's actions), the Falling actions (the following effect or consequence of the climax), and finally the Conclusion.

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The genre of the story sets the mood and expectations of the reader/viewer. Stories with the fantasy genre have fantastical elements that can be magical and wimzical by nature, while science-fiction genre might bring a futuristic and technology based stories.

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These concepts allow the reader/viewer to feel invested in a scene or story, making them unnerved and stressed for the characters.

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A poem made with 4 or 5 people. Each person wrote a single line with no communication of theme.

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A story that is cut up in individual sentences or lines. They can then be swapped with each other to make an entirely new story.

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A spoken word is an oral presentation of a poem that resonates using language or message.

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This is a short story about a man that crashes in the middle of no where during an gas delivery via helicopter. It highlights desperation and how unforgiving nature can be.

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A long story of a nightmare encounter with the unknown. A group seeking passage through a cave passage through a mountain is terrorized by something in the dark that is only warded away by the saving light of a magic rope that connects the entrance and exit of the passage.

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A poem that encapsulates the escape dreams provide from harsh reality.

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This course has helped me bring the ideas in my head to the paper. I've always had wandering thoughts that I thought would make great stories, but I never had the knowledge of how to create an enticing story with my concepts. They play out over and over in my head. The scenes would sometimes be so vivid with such detail that it would sometimes play like a short movie. However, I could never put them into consistent words and flow of a story on paper. It would always be a ramble of what the scene looked and sounded like but never in story form. This course has helped me find multiple ways to literarily express myself. Spoken Word has taught me to not only write my poems but how to express each word with the right amount of passion and emotion to fully convey its emotional message. The short and long stories taught me how to properly structure my stories as to make them flow more smoothly. The poem taught me to express myself in subjective and beautiful wordplay using a variety of literary devices and poem structures. The adaptation work taught me to think differently about already existing work making a unique and original take on taken work. I've learned throughout this course how to take my wandering concepts into full fledge stories. Which I plan to use far into the future.