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Pandemonium Story

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12/26/2015 1:50:36 PM
Posted: 10 months ago
Pandemonium Story

Genre: Christian/Religious Fiction

Synopsis: Religiously-diverse university students make the ultimate discovery: God is real. But what becomes an exciting moment is turned into terror by what follows. Will their rapidly evolving understandings and quick actions be enough to rescue them from the metaphysical confusion and anguish that plagues them all, even while they endure catastrophe-inducing demonic trials . . . and some die? Over time the cast of players increases to include people from all walks of life, and an obvious answer emerges.

Information: This Pandemonium story thread is of a story that never ends. Characters are introduced, some fade, some die, others are brought in. Anything is permitted so long as the writer has the best interests of the story in mind.

It's best to keep the story consistent, so that there isn't obvious discrepancies in the content, but surprises are permitted. Writers are allowed to treat characters anyway they want, even remove them from the story through death, so long as they adhere to a PG-13 standard of self-censorship. The basic theme provided in the synopsis must be maintained, otherwise the story will not work. Of course, writers are allowed to introduce ideas that they believe will keep the story exciting and one-of-a-kind. Ask in the Commentary thread if you want people's opinion about an idea your flirting with, to see if they like it. Be creative.

1- Writers are given exactly 7 days (168 hours to the second) of announcing it in the commentary thread to post their Chapter in this story thread. If the Chapter isn't up in 168 hours, the writer forfeits the opportunity to write that Chapter.
2- If you're going to add the next chapter, tell us in the commentary thread ( ). There, you should post the Chapter Number and Title that you will be writing (Example: Chapter One: Human Bliss).
3- If you're going to eliminate a main character, it better be good.
4- Make new characters you introduce in the story interesting and unique from other characters. Provide detail.
5- Absolutely no real people are permitted in this story. Leave the names of real individuals out of this! Use your imagination.
6- This story adheres to a PG-13 standard, so no overt sexual content is permitted. Violence must not be too graphic, nor should animals and monsters be too perverse in appearance (monsters can't have the form of sexual organs or something like that, for example).
7- Do not write something too far fetched.
8- Please, do not curse too much. I would prefer you don't cuss at all. A good story doesn't need derogatory bad language. This is an opportunity to improve your writing skills and to learn alternative reader-grabbing techniques. Remember the PG-13 standard of the story.
9- No trolling. Do not ruin this story for your amusement.
10- Anyone can write, so long as they treat the story with respect. Give others a chance to write.
11- Proper and Readable English only. Impress us. (Of course, innocent mistakes are to be expected.)

Commentary Thread:
The Pandemonium story commentary thread can be found here: ( ) Consult the commentary thread first is you want to add a chapter or offer up ideas. If you want to add a chapter, go to rules 1 and 2 above.

I will begin Pandemonium story by posting Chapter One and posting Chapter Two within 7 days (I need to write Chapter Two as well to further develop the direction of the story).

After Chapter Two is posted, other writers can add Chapters.
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12/26/2015 1:52:36 PM
Posted: 10 months ago
***Important Note: This thread is only for Chapters of Pandemonium Story. Nothing else can be published on this thread.***
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12/26/2015 2:25:45 PM
Posted: 10 months ago
Chapter One: Human Bliss

"On earth there is no heaven, but there are pieces of it." --Jules Renard.

Sandro Diaz sat on a cold bench inside his garage, flexing his bloated biceps. Protruding veins ridged his substantial arms and coiled down his husky forearms, which were beaded in sweat. His gargantuan thighs rested on the black weight bench, and were tightly wrapped in stretched navy blue sweatpants.

A digital clock on the wall indicated the time was 5:30 P.M.--one hour before he was scheduled to meet a fellow university student for a group assignment inside his home . . . a female named Treya Patel, a self-professed Hindu. Sandro remembered that she was primarily a Hindu because her mother had encouraged it in her, from what she had conveyed at previous meetings, but she was also a Hindu because she wanted her younger brother to embrace the religion and culture, to prevent his decline into teenage misconduct.

Privately, Sandro didn't know much about the Hindu religion; he was brought-up as a Christian Pentecostal, trained to believe that Jesus was the foundation on which the spiritual universe was constructed.

"Hindus are godly," Sandro confessed to his resting pooch, who gazed at him in silent stillness. The seated bodybuilder grunted as he lifted a gray dumbbell with a hulking arm. He let it stop at his neck, then slowly brought it down to his thighs, and then quickly continued with the dumbbell in his other hand, exhaling as he raised it.

The lounging dog's eyes darted about the room as Sandro quietly groaned.

(The drawing of breath.) "But Jesus Christ . . . is . . . the only way."

* * *

Treya Patel stuffed her large backpack in the backseat of her car and gently threw her purse onto the passenger seat. She was fighting time. It would take her twenty minutes to commute by freeway to Sandro's subleased, civic townhouse. But first she had to buy batteries for her graphing calculator at the corner store, then drive to the pet shop to purchase a ball of marimo moss for their joint biology project.

The wedge of a cell phone in her left hand began to vibrate. "It's from mom," she announced loudly. With quick finger movements she tapped a condensed message, then waited for a response. After a few seconds she finally raised the phone to her ear.

"Hello . . . mom?"

The voice on the other end sounded indignant. "When did you start texting your mother when she calls?"

"Sorry, mom . . . that's the way I talk to my girlfriends here at college. I didn't stop to . . ."

"Well, I"m not your friend, Treya. I"m your maataa! I don"t want you picking up poisonous habits over there."

"I'm not picking up poisonous habits here, mother," Treya carefully interrupted. She paused. "I'm sorry . . . maa."

The voice on the other end sounded pleased. "That's alright. You're such a sweet girl--pakshi. Your dad would be disappointed if he knew you were texting your maataa. Anyway, I called to remind you that your brother"s birthday is on the weekend"this Saturday. You're going to be here, right?"

Treya's eyes became large polished spheres. She ran fingers through her gorgeous black mane. She remembered that she had devoted the weekend to non<x>stop studying for semester finals the week ahead. Her plans were now in jeopardy.

"Yes, mom. It's already on the agenda."


The cell phone conservation with her mother continued for another two minutes, and when it was over, Treya sat herself into the leather bucket seat of her blue Honda Civic, gripping the wheel. She snap-closed her safety belt and stared thoughtlessly at the reflection in her car windshield.

"Ape feet."

* * *

Ian Miller was a regular college party animal. He was a self-disclosed light-alcoholic, ecstasy-taker, womanizer and metrosexual, early-morning raver, assertive Nihilist, assignment procrastinator, and boastful practitioner of the malevolent occult arts otherwise known as "Satanic magic". He was also tatted with provocative designs and liked to venture into strip joints and night clubs, "to sample the culture".

As the weekday wound down and became dark, Ian deliberately found himself inside of West Hollywood's hottest rave event by 10 PM, dancing on a pock-marked dance floor and under the influence of a poorly-concocted recreational drug, writhing to an electronic score. He held lambent glow sticks in each hand and waved them rhythmically to the beat of the synthesized, adrenaline-coaxing sound.

Revelers across the dance floor shouted, "It"s Miller Time!" as they spotted his familiar face in the crowd of twisting bodies. He gestured with a raised palm in greeting.

The flashing strobe lights above illuminated his aroused, sculpted face, and allowed him to make-out faces of the frolicking ravers in vicinity.

A few yards away, Ian spotted the attractive face of a female raver who was staring back. She was decorated in artificial neon dreadlocks that wreathed her heart-shaped face and wearing a revealing top.

Ian moved in on his newfound target, anticipating another glorious night.
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1/5/2016 7:33:09 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
Chapter Two: Part I: Unrelenting Darkness

Bao Vu was racing up the 210 Freeway on a Yamaha motorbike; his girlfriend--Lilly Tram--had her thick leather sleeves wrapped around his protectively-concealed midsection.

The two bustling students were alumni of the prestigious research university Caltech, and Bao had an important exam to begin at 9 AM. He awoke this morning with a mild fever and spitting up phlegm, after a two-day bout of being bed-ridden with the crippling flu. But his academic life was on the line, and he was not about to sacrifice his towering dreams to an unrelenting microbe.

Bao scanned the freeway traffic through the reflective visor on his black helmet. He was looking for open space between the long lines of cars. Lilly tapped him on his shoulder to prompt him to slow down. Off-center in his field of vision, Bao spotted a large green freeway sign with several words on it . . . one startling combination read "Hunting you. Die." Bao quickly twisted his head to read the sign again: "Huntington Dr."

Bao shook it off. The illness was playing mental tricks on him.

On the Yamaha, Bao approached a heavy section of impossibly slow bumper-to-bumper traffic, and was able to bypass it by riding up the open space between cars; Lilly hung onto him tightly as they passed through, trying to avoid falling off, into the rotating tires of neighboring cars.

As he rode through the open space between the successions of cars, Bao suddenly felt himself wanting to black out. He gripped the motorcycle handles firmly, and began to sweat at the palms. His vision began to go dark--

--But he was determined not to go down. He took one giant breath . . . exhaled. Then took several more breaths. He became fully alert once more. The deep breathing was working.

Bao and Lilly cleared the traffic and made way for the next freeway off-ramp, into an urban district.
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1/18/2016 4:33:50 AM
Posted: 9 months ago
Chapter Three: Part II: Unrelenting Darkness

Sandro Diaz stood outside his Los Angeles townhouse in 50-degree weather wearing a white hooded sweater and long Levis. His fellow classmate and roommate, Dasante Walker, locked up the front door with rattling keys, then tested the doorknob to make sure it was secure. The tall African-American student then approached Sandro at the edge of the sidewalk.

"Man . . . there was a knifing attack at a California university today. I caught it on T.V. just now--two people killed. I wonder if they're going to shut down school," Dasante said.

"Check the school website," Sandro responded. "--Wait. I'll check it." Sandro elevated his smartphone and tapped on the glass interface, typing a phrase into an attainable URL search field. He paused, scanning the homepage of the school website as it loaded. "Nothing . . . yet."

"It's a knifing attack, though," Dasante said skeptically, as he pondered it further. "It's not a threat to other universities."

"Then we should be okay," Sandro casually exclaimed.

The two college students waited outside for their ride to arrive. Sandro could see his breath as he respired in the chilly morning air. A light breeze picked up around them and caused the foliage on nearby trees to ripple; the cold wind sent chills down Dasante's back, who hadn't yet zipped up his thick jacket.

Suddenly, a red rubber ball was lobbed into the air across the street, making an arc from behind a tall leafy hedge, and it was about to land on the road in front of them. Quietly Sandro and Desante eyed the ball, gaping at it as it landed and bounced back up. The two laughed instantaneously.

"That was unexpected!" Dasante announced.

"That was so unpredictable!" Sandro retorted.

The ball came to rest in the middle of the road.

"It must belong to a family with children I saw a few days ago. One of the boys was playing with a red ball just like that one." Sandro looked at Dasante, who was beaming. "Let's return it, Dasante. We should throw it back over the hedge."

Dasante smiled, holding back a chuckle. "I'll do it." Dasante walked to the center of the road where the ball was. He reached down to pick it up--then heard the booming sound of a rapidly approaching engine.

"Car! Car!" Sandro shouted from the street curb.

Dasante turned his head. "Oh damn--" He clasped the ball with outstretched fingers and jumped back, as far from the middle of the road as he could get; he fell on his haunches and on his side near the curb.

The speeding sedan barreled by.

"Watch it you blockheaadd!!" Sandro screamed from the street curb at the driver. He turned to look at Dasante, who was lying on his back, breathing heavily. He erupted in laughter.

The ball was still held in Dasante's hand.

"You okay, man?" trumpeted Sandro.

Dasante rested on his back for a moment, then raised the red ball in elation. "Dude: the advantages of playing recreational basketball!" he announced euphorically. He twisted his elevated hand to display the ball.

After a few seconds, Dasante got back on his long legs and threw the ball over the tall green hedge across the bitumen roadway. Almost instantaneously, Treyal Patel arrived in her Blue Honda Civic with a passenger strapped in the front seat, ready to convey the group to school.

The two burly gentlemen opened the back doors and got inside.

* * *

Once the men were seated and fastened, Treya twisted her head to introduce them to the other passenger. "Guys, this is Janet Graham. She's an undergrad at the University and a close friend of mine." Her eyes enlarged and she pointed a finger at Dasante. "No flirting," she commanded, concealing a smirk. Her eyes turned to the female passenger. "Janet, this is Dasante and Sandro, the biology classmates I told you about."

Janet smiled at the occupants in the back seat. "These are your partners for the project then," she said. "I saw the report for your project. I'm impressed."

"Is that Rihanna on the radio, Treya?" interrupted Dasante. "Girlfriend, turn that up!"

"That's Diamonds, Das," Treya announced, setting the car's stick shift into drive. She put her foot down on the accelerator and the car moved forward, gradually picking up speed. "Sorry, Das and San, but I have to go back to my house because I forgot notecards for the assignment. I didn't memorize everything for the presentation, so we have to go." She looked at the two males in the hanging rearview mirror. "It'll be quick," she said.

"Did you two hear about the killings at Bayla State University today?" Janet asked the two males.

"Bet you it was Muslims," Dasante shot back quickly.

The four occupants stayed quiet for a while. Treya finally summoned up the courage to respond. "It was a single attacker, according to the news broadcast this morning. He was a male who stabbed two other students in a laboratory class, and who had previous run-ins with police. He isn't Arab or Muslim."

"He was probably undergoing conversion," Sandro proclaimed.

Dasante erupted in laughter.

"Oh, stop! He wasn't a Muslim," Treya said assuredly.

Janet chimed in. "It's good that the previous President shipped troops to exterminate terrorists in the Middle East."

Dasante interrupted. "The previous President? The previous President was a catastrophe!"

"No war in this car, guys," Treya announced. "Someone change the subject."

* * *

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1/18/2016 10:01:36 AM
Posted: 9 months ago

Treya sat in the driver's seat, enjoying the music streaming from the radio. Janet was viewing the illuminated screen of her smartphone, having a text conversation with a relative. Sandro and Dasante were engaged in a conversation about other students at the University. They were on the freeway rushing to their destination: Treya's rented duplex.

"How does your hand feel?" Janet asked Treya worriedly.

"It aches a little. But it's fine," Treya said.

"What happened to your hand, Treya?" Sandro interrogated.

"I smashed my fingers this morning with the front door. A bird . . . a bird was trying to get inside when I let Janet into my home. Trying to keep it out, I slammed the doors on my fingers." She raised her aching fingers to her mouth and briefly sucked on one.

"A bird?" Sandro asked, astounded.

"A bird." Janet nodded.

"A hummingbird specifically," Treya said.

"A bird?" Sandro echoed.

"A bird!" Janet and Treya responded in unison.

"Ha! This morning Dasante also had an accident. He threw himself on the curb of the road when a car nearly hit him. He landed on his back, hard."

"A car?" Treya asked.

"A car," Dasante affirmed.

"A speeding car," Sandro said. "It almost killed him. Providence spared his life."

"And the ball's life, too," Dasante said.

"The ball?" Janet asked, befuddled.

"A red ball," Sandro spoke, "not covered in Dasante's blood. We found it on the road in front of my house, before you came."

"Strange," Treya exclaimed.

Suddenly, a brown and white-speckled hawk with its talons extended forward flew especially low across the hood of the car, which startled the passengers. Janet turned her head, and gawked in amazement at everybody.

"Whoa. Strange day," Dasante said.

"It was probably going to catch a rodent on the side of the freeway," interjected Sandro. He looked through the rear window to try to spot it.

"Well, that bird isn't the only one that wants breakfast now. Why don't we stop somewhere after we pick up the notecards," Dasante said.

Everybody chimed-in in agreement.
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2/5/2016 8:14:25 AM
Posted: 8 months ago
Chapter Four: Part III: Unrelenting Darkness

The four young aspiring professionals shuffled into The Perfect Cup coffeehouse in single file, carefully holding the door open so that the next person could easily strut through. They found themselves on a busy street in Pasadena, California, after embarking on a sudden trip by freeway to Treya's remote domicile.

Dasante raised his arms in annoyance. "There's a line!" he groused.

Janet peered at him with pursed lips. "Of course there's a line. It's nine in the morning, homie. This is the portion of the day they're busiest." She gazed at the menu fixture hanging from the ceiling, evaluating her options. "Caramel frappe-cappuccino . . . with a leaf of chocalate," she finally declared to the group.

"Mmm . . . that sounds yummy," Treya announced. "I think I'll get that, too. Gigantesco-size!"

"Good choice," Janet said.

Treya nodded her head with exaggerated motion. "Look! The line's moving fast," she said. "I think we'll be fine, guys. We'll make it to class with extra time to prepare even."

Dasante and Sandro were already preparing while the four of them waited in line, reciting critical details back and forth about the multiple reactions and numerous chemicals involved in photosynthesis.

"The increasing proton gradient between the thylakoid lumen and stroma . . . generates the power, for . . . uuhhhh, for ATP synthase to bind phosphate to ADP and produce the energy currency molecule ATP!" Sandro recited from memory, while also rapidly glancing at the note cards once.

"Good! Good!" Dasante responded. "And the proton gradient is promoted by the electron transport chain in the . . . the membrane of the chloroplast thylakoid--which happens in the light-dependent reactions!"

"Yeah. Yeah." Sandro said in affirmation.

Outside, cars began to honk with abruptly waxing intensity, and walking pedestrians stopped to stare at something rapidly approaching on the street. Suddenly, the onlookers in front of the coffeehouse began to run and shout.

A motorcycle with two passengers could be seen flying through the air--straight at the floor-to-cieling window of The Perfect Cup coffeehouse. Those inside the main lobby that were aware of it looked on in horror.

The eyes of Treya, Sandro, Janet, and Dasante were each fixated on the approaching destruction. All four of them didn't know which way to run in the cramped coffeehouse.

* * *

Seven lounging bodies awoke on a dimly lit street in a dark neighborhood. The buildings, the road, the streetlights and street signs appeared to be modern; but none of them understood what they were doing there, in this unfamiliar place.

In front of the bodies, which were now hoisting themselves up, onto their legs, was a street sign, which read "La Igesia de Dios". Behind them, partially lit under bright street lamps, was a large Church building, with a decorated wooden door that was tilted inward on its hinges, inviting them inside.
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2/5/2016 8:09:53 PM
Posted: 8 months ago
If no one calls Chapter Five by tomorrow, I'm going to take it.

My aim is to make it a cutscene, which focuses on new characters (not all university students), before we get into the action with the original characters in Chapter Six.

It'll also have a different title than what I previously indicated.