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Literature
One shot
 “ Range is over three hundred.” I muttered to myself, shifting my aim slightly. Just as I said the words, I curled my finger around the trigger, letting the chambered round fly.
Watching through the scope, I saw the bullet impact and knock down a single german soldier. Quickly, the others scrambled to the sides of the road, with one moving the drag the fallen enemy back into cover.
From my perch, I could see much of the damaged town. A significant majority of the buildings had been damaged, with open walls that seemed reminiscent of rotting wounds. It was hard to tell if there was much left within the town. Easily half of it was destroyed, and yet, everyday, I would still wake up in the morning to the crackle of machine gun fire, or the echo of a tank's cannon.
I took, a moment, quickly cycling the weapons action, as I kept an eye on the general position that the germans had retreated to. I watched carefully, waiting to see if one would poke his head out. For the mome
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Literature
Lost cargo alternate ending
A stream of bubbles flowed past the diver with each breath. The lone swimmer slowly descended, checking his dive watch every couple of breaths. He knew his depth was quickly nearing fifty meters.
Various fish swam around him, as though they were curious about this new being in their waters. Unconsciously, the diver moved his hand a towards his knife. The fear of being alone in the freezing cold waters was obvious, even if the goggles prevented it from being seen.
Carefully, the diver began to scan the deaths around him. The sea floor was barely twenty meters below him, but in the available light, barely anything would appear.
All at once, he noticed something. Quickly, the lone diver aimed his flashlight in the direction of the movement. It was a floating piece of metal, grey and rusted. If he could have smiled with the breather in his mouth, he would have.
The lone diver continued downwards, looking around. He didn't care about the cold or his limited air supply at that moment. There
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Literature
Lost cargo
A stream of bubbles flowed past the diver with each breath. The lone swimmer slowly descended, checking his dive watch every couple of breaths. He knew his depth was quickly nearing fifty meters.
Various fish swam around him, as though they were curious about this new being in their waters. Unconsciously, the diver moved his hand a towards his knife. The fear of being alone in the freezing cold waters was obvious, even if the goggles prevented it from being seen.
Carefully, the diver began to scan the deaths around him. The sea floor was barely twenty meters below him, but in the available light, barely anything would appear.
All at once, he noticed something. Quickly, the lone diver aimed his flashlight in the direction of the movement. It was a floating piece of metal, grey and rusted. If he could have smiled with the breather in his mouth, he would have.
The lone diver continued downwards, looking around. He didn't care about the cold or his limited air supply at that moment. There
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Literature
Dusk
A cold wind swept its way through the evening. The leaves all rustled, before falling silent. This would repeat with the next gust, and the next. Slowly but surely, a seemingly rhythmic pattern developed; a chant, one that only nature could create.
Like a worm, a pathway inched its way along, weaving between the trees with careful precision. The designer had worked hard on the layout of the path, and the journey reflected it.
Now though, only a single figure was endorsing the pathway. She moved calmly, but there was no joy on her face. Her expression was one of preparation. It was a look that would only ever appear on someone's face if they knew something truly dangerous was about to happen.
To the west, the final rays of the sun began to set. To the east, the full moon made its slow rise into the sky. It snaked into the sky, and one could almost say that the tree branches followed it, as though reaching to grab it. Other trees seemed to retreat from it. It was as though the forest was
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Mature content
Dangerous Memories :iconfrozenwhitenorth:frozenwhitenorth 0 2
Literature
How to deal with writers block
Anyone who has ever tried to frequently do creative writing will at some point experience writer's block. At the same time, many artists will also at some point get art block, which is similar. Even if you don't do creative writing, there might at some point be that one project that you need to work on, and the writing just won't click. Suffice it to say, writer's block can hit anyone, and it's annoying.
Generally writer's block comes in two forms. Form A involves having ideas, but those ideas seem to refuse to connect into a story. Form B is where those ideas simply don't want to form at all.
Given that writer's block can settle in for a fairly long amount of time, it can be beneficial to have some ways of trying to jumpstart your way out of writer's block. Personally, I have three. My methods are increased browsing, increased editing, and trying to write NSFW material.
Increased browsing is mainly meant to address the issue of thoughts simply not forming. The idea is that by spending
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Literature
Systems active
 “ That went smoothly.” Allen said to me.
The soldier was keeping watch as I handled the data transfer.
 “ Yep. Should be done transferring in about twenty seconds. Gives you plenty of time to deal with that security team.” I told him, as I checked the surveillance system.
 “ Why didn't you tell me?” He shouted, aiming his pistol at the door.
 “ Breaching charges goes off in three seconds.” I warned.
Just as the charge detonated, time seemed to slow. It wasn't any doing of fate or adrenaline though. I had simply boosted the clock rate on the processor in Allen's armour that made up my brain. The corresponding effect was that time appeared to move much slower, roughly a thousandth of normal time.
 “ Allen, you and I have very different ideas about what's a short period of time.” I said. While I could only exist in a simulated environment, I always ensured it matched that of what was in Allen's surr
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Literature
Recovery and greetings (Duelist part 3)
Slowly, I awoke. It was difficult to wake up. My body felt drained of energy, despite it being morning. The warmth of the sheets made it even more difficult. It seemed like a fog was in my head, clouding everything, and obscuring anything that wasn't immediately obvious.
Thoughts seemed to not want to connect. Basic things, like where I was, what day it was, and what had happened the day before all seemed lost to me.
My eyes still closed, I could slowly feel the fog lifting. With the lifting of the fog within my head, came a rush of emotions.
My eyes burst open, and I shot straight up in the bed. A quick look around the room confirmed what I already suspected. This room wasn't my own.
The walls were clearly made from aging stone. They looked well kept, but even still, it was clear the stones were aging. Off to the left was a window. Light shined through despite the curtains, casting a light illumination over the entire room.
Slowly, I tried to move my right leg, only to gasp in pain. I
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Literature
The Raiders (duelist sequel)
My eyes fluttered open. Sleepily, I slowly got up. I could tell by looking out the window that it was still late at night. Something seemed off about the sky though. It wasn't until after I had finished getting dressed that I realized what seemed off about the night sky.
Looking back through the window, I realized there were no stars in the sky. Early summer, and yet, not a single star. It could have easily just been clouds, but that raised another question in my mind. If it was clouds, then why was there still a surprising amount of light outside?
Slowly, one by one, possibilities started to remove themselves from my mental list. It couldn't have been a summer festival; that wasn't for at least a month still. It couldn't have been morning either; far to dark.
Just as I considered the worst possibility, I opened the door to my small room. The sight that greeted me left no doubts in my mind.
From my place at the old temple, I could easily see to the village. Down below, it was clea
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Literature
Deviantart and NSFW part 2
While this post is not going to be put under the mature content filter, it will be discussing aspects of NSFW material on deviantart. If you dont wish to read about this type on material, feel free to leave this post.
This is a continuation of sorts from a previous posting, the link to which will be in the description. In short, in the previous posting, I talked about some of the reasons why BDSM and fetish material are so prevalent in NSFW content submitted to deviantart. However, there is a second part that I didn't address in that post, that I feel is probably worth discussing.
For those who don't post content, or haven't taken the time to completely read deviantarts posting rules, there is a certain section that's of particular note. Im referring to the anti pornography section. Long story short, deviantart has rules stating that content creators are not allowed to post pornographic material to the site. Of course, if this is your first time learning about this, I would not be
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Literature
Fly by night
“ Beautiful tonight, isn't it?” Allen said, finally adding a new sound to the low purr of the twin merlin engines that filled the cockpit. He was right. I had often found that after rising above the dense clouds on nights like tonight, one would find the stars in the sky to be at their most brilliant. Less than 500 feet below me, the clouds seemed to stretch for eternity, illuminated only by the light of the stars. Tonight, there was no moon, and even seasoned night fighter pilots would sometimes find themselves disoriented with the lack of the moons illumination.
Over the past month, I had learned to get used to the life of a night fighter pilot. I would spend my days indoors, with thick black curtains drawn over the windows, as I spent the daylight hours asleep. At around dusk, I would crawl out of bed, and go spend my time eating breakfast with friends who would be eating their dinner.
All the flight crews operated in shifts, which were dependent on our planes fuel load.
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Literature
Deviant art and NSFW
Although I am not putting this under the mature content filter, this is going to talk a lot about NSFW material on deviant art. If you do not wish to read about NSFW content, please leave this post.
So if you are reading this, and you're anything like me, you have spent a fair amount of time browsing deviant art without the mature content filter. Over the last little while of doing so, I have started to notice some trends with NSFW posts that appear in the first 500 or so of the top 24 hours search section.
Firstly though, a general observation about posts labeled mature content. These posts can be generally put into one of four groupings.
Group A: This small group includes art that is either not truly NSFW, very limited NSFW (implied past/future situations, certain phrases), and non NSFW posts by predominantly NSFW creators.
Group B: This is the smallest group, and is the work counted as NSFW/mature content on the grounds of gory content.
Group C: The mighty nude photography
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Literature
The duelist
I stood outside, dusting the grounds in front of the old temple. It was located at the top of a tall hill, looking out over the village. Leading down into the village, was a stone pathway. I had no doubt that the market was in full swing by now. Dozens if not hundreds, would be walking about the hard packed streets, purchasing food, spices, clothes, and in some cases, weapons.
I looked down the pathway. As I did, I saw a young man walking up. He was wearing zero armour, and wore a long leather coat. As he walked, it was easy to spot his sheath with its sword strapped to his belt.
I put down the broom, and walked towards him. Clearly he was new to town. His face bore a look of conflicted determination.
 “ Is there some way I can help you stranger?” I asked him.
 “ I’m looking for the old general. I was told to find him here.” He responded.
 “ Well he’s not here currently.” I told him.
It was a story that had existed for some
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3D printed sleigh model (disassembled) by frozenwhitenorth 3D printed sleigh model (disassembled) :iconfrozenwhitenorth:frozenwhitenorth 3 0 3D printed sleigh model (assembled) by frozenwhitenorth 3D printed sleigh model (assembled) :iconfrozenwhitenorth:frozenwhitenorth 2 0
Literature
Haunted
I walked up to the front entrance of the building. It was a large building, sitting in the middle of the city suburbs. A large, stone and iron fence, ran across the front of the property.
 “This has got to be a mistake.” I thought to myself as I double checked the address on the card, then the address on the front sign. Sure enough, they were the same. I considered reading through the invitation again, but having done so six times already, I didn't see the point. The invitation had explicitly asked for me to attend, and it had asked by name.
It still puzzled me why the owner of such obvious wealth would invite someone like myself to a fancy party. Like other working class people, a home like this seemed more a dream then a reality. The three doored garage alone would cost at least half of my annual salary.
I walked through the open front gate, dressed in some of my best clothes. They weren't much though. A simple dress shirt, khaki pants, and a red tie. Walking towards
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Slowly working on short stories. Between exams, lack of motivation, and some personal issues, it been slow going. Still, work is progressing.

 “ Range is over three hundred.” I muttered to myself, shifting my aim slightly. Just as I said the words, I curled my finger around the trigger, letting the chambered round fly.

Watching through the scope, I saw the bullet impact and knock down a single german soldier. Quickly, the others scrambled to the sides of the road, with one moving the drag the fallen enemy back into cover.

From my perch, I could see much of the damaged town. A significant majority of the buildings had been damaged, with open walls that seemed reminiscent of rotting wounds. It was hard to tell if there was much left within the town. Easily half of it was destroyed, and yet, everyday, I would still wake up in the morning to the crackle of machine gun fire, or the echo of a tank's cannon.

I took, a moment, quickly cycling the weapons action, as I kept an eye on the general position that the germans had retreated to. I watched carefully, waiting to see if one would poke his head out. For the moment nothing. I looked down to the base of the building, seeing the handful of friendly soldiers taking cover there. Slowly, they started working there way forward, moving on the germans position.

I looked back to my scope, watching for movement. As if on cue, I saw a head poke out from the rubble. I immediately shifted my aim, taking a deep breath. Just as my finger hit the trigger, I felt a heavy impact to the back of my head. The impact shifted my aim downwards, causing my shot to impact short of his position. Quickly I retreated, ducking behind the low wall to my left.

Breathing heavily, I removed my helmet. With a quick glance, I could tell immediately what had happened. The helmets paint was missing, and a gash had been left in the back of the metal. There was no doubt in my mind as to the origin of the shot. Some german sniper had managed to identify my position.

Taking a deep breath, I started to run through my situation. I was sitting behind a wall, that had once been part of the fourth floor of the hotel. An artillery shell had partly demolished the building, but the east face was decently intact. There was no ceiling above me, and the door out was on the opposite side of the room. Unfortunately, there was only half a wall behind me. If I made a break for the door, I was dead.

Similarly, I could not hope to wait out the other sniper. He was likely also watching my allied squad, waiting for them to poke out. That meant his forces had free movement at the moment. If they went on the offensive, I would not be able to support. If I got surrounded, I was as good as dead.

It all pointed to only one option. I had to kill their sniper, and then get back to work supporting my allies. The complication was that their sniper knew I was still alive.

Carefully, I re-examined the damage to the back of my helmet. The scratch moved from left to right, with the gash starting slightly higher on the left side then the right side. Combined with what I already knew about the nearby buildings, it gave strong support to the idea that he was currently positioned at a higher elevation. It was good news, but it didn't tell me his precise position. For this to work I would need every detail I could possibly acquire.

Slowly, I took my damaged helmet and held its edges with my finger tips. I made a conscious effort to keep the front of the helmet facing directly towards the wall. Slowly, I lifted it above the damaged wall. As if on cue, a single shot rang out, knocking my helmet and hand back below the wall. With no head inside the helmet, the bullet punched clean through both sides.

I was almost giddy when I noticed that the shot had penetrated cleanly through the back. Turning the helmet in my hands, I lined up the two holes, so that I could look straight through the helmet. It confirmed what I already knew. The shot had been taken from a higher elevation. Beyond the wall, there existed only two buildings, about a block apart from each other, that the shot could have come from.

Checking the angling, it became apparent that the sniper was hiding in the northern building, which sat roughly four hundred yards away. Many times, I had wished that both of the buildings could have been targeted with artillery, but it was not my authority to make that decision.

Slowly, I placed the helmet on the ground, lining up the front with the wall, and making sure it was in roughly the same position as when I had poked it up. Taking my rifle in hand, I cycled the lee-enfields bolt, making sure a round was chambered.

Crouching, I slowly maneuvered into place, with the helmet just in front of me. I made sure to line up the rifle with the bullet holes in the helmet.

 “ Above the fourth floor, north building. Range is roughly four hundred yards.” I told myself. Taking one final deep breath, I exhaled, and bolted upright.

Time seemed to slow as I did. I moved my eye to the scope, quickly looking at the opposite building. All my preparation had paid off. In the window of the opposite building, I could just barely see the sun's glint off of his scope.

I took a moment to adjust the angle, before taking the shot. As soon as my finger pulled the trigger, I ducked back down. I was glad I hadn't waited with retreating. A bullet just barely grazed the right side of my head as I ducked back down.

I clenched my teeth, as the skin on my head suddenly felt on fire. Touching the side of my head, I felt the tiny cut and the blood already seeping from it. Taking another deep breath, I popped back out. It was important to confirm I had not missed. If I had, this would be my only opportunity to confirm, while he was busy relocating.

The view I saw through my scope was a sombering one. I saw the rifle dangling from the the window. It was still loosely held in his grasp, but it was obvious he was dead. Even as I watched, his fingers slackened, and the rifle fell to the street below.

I let a heavy sigh escape my lips. I had survived, if only barely. Cycling the bolt on the rifle, I once more peered through the scope, watching the germans position down the street.

One shot
Feels like I haven't posted a short story for a bit, and found I really liked this one. While by no means spectacular, this also represents my first effort at a war story that dosent directly involve a vehicle of some description.

In all, a short action sequence that I would appreciate some feedback on.
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I had the unusual experience of having a moose running around my neighborhood this past weekend.
If a weather man in southern Alberta says its going to be clear sky's, prepare for the equivalent of being burned at the stake.

If a weather man in southern Alberta says its going to be partly cloudy, bring shorts and a rain coat. You will need both.

If a weather man in southern Alberta says its going to rain heavily, be prepared for a snow storm and a hurricane to occur simultaneously.

This is southern Alberta weather in a nut shell.

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frozenwhitenorth
Connor
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Canada
I occasionally write short stories, and post them if they survive through editing hell. I do occasionally write NSFW stories, though as it stands im keeping this account SFW only.

Besides short story writing, I also frequently work with 3D printers. Any outstanding models I create will also be posted here.

Otherwise, im your average high school student, albeit with a massive nerd factor.
Interests

Comments


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:icontiagoporto:
TiagoPorto Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2017
Thanks a lot for the fave and the comment.
Check out my reply.
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:iconfrozenwhitenorth:
frozenwhitenorth Featured By Owner Apr 13, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
It was a very well made 3D piece. I was rather impressed.
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:iconmercenaryblade:
MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for faving my short story!
Reply
:iconfrozenwhitenorth:
frozenwhitenorth Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
It was well made. Reminded me of another short story actually "The Shepard".
Reply
:iconmercenaryblade:
MercenaryBlade Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! Yeah I looked that story up and was surprised to find how close it resembled mine! I'd never even heard of it till now.
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:iconfrozenwhitenorth:
frozenwhitenorth Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
There's a great rendition of that story done by CBC radio at Christmas every year. I would highly recommend  listening to it. It can be found on youtube.
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(1 Reply)
:iconrudeboy308:
rudeboy308 Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2017
Thanks for the fave.
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:iconebony-ghost:
ebony-ghost Featured By Owner Mar 12, 2017
You're very good at writing. I wish you luck in the future.
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:iconfrozenwhitenorth:
frozenwhitenorth Featured By Owner Mar 12, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks. I do try.
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:iconpajunen:
Pajunen Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2017
Thanks for the +fav
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