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Game < Virtual Popstar

ET: Sloth - Writing

Sophie
Streetmusician

Sophie wrote:
its something sad idk :,c
She was so but so lazy, that one day...She did not move anymore..

But that one day His little brother asked.

.-Mom, why?
(her mother cried......and say....
-his friend depression...took her.
(He looked confused at his mother)
-¿but mom can we bring her?...i lovemy sister!
(And her mother walked away......

the little boy spent years thinking and tryinghow to bring his sister...But in all his attempts he failed..he knew his sister was there..But the mother told him that he was crazy, and his father was not there...

The years passed and the little boy was a teenager...he had problems at school....There was always a man at home...and her mother always had a bottle...He almost does not eat, and he has to work....

The little teenager Was 21 years old And he was still looking for his sister...but.....her mother was not there anymore....he found a dog And called him abby the name of her sister....but the dog was not real...and he was going "crazy"...

He was already 32 years old....and the pills were consuming he....but His sister called him....He went quickly to his sister, who was sitting looking the water in the bridge...she say..

-You found me...
(he hugged her and did not let go......crying he say...
-¡Im sorry! (She smile and say..
-Its okay.. all is okay..
we are together now...

...24 hours later....he appeared dead with his sister..it was never discovered how..But he had a smile and was happy..

(I edited it because it was all together)

Private
National Star

Dew wrote:

Sloth

With eyes fluttered shut came thoughts crashing through, trickling down the crevices of his brain like leaking water - dampening everything that it touched.

It isn’t that he didn’t want to get up; it was that the mere thought of doing so pained him. Physically, he was structurally sound – had muscles where he needed them, and taut skin where he did not.
But it was mentally, however, where his thoughts lay (of which would trigger movement), that he was at his most weak.

He was in an internal crossroads where he would rather sigh, than breathe. Where he would rather resolve himself to a fate of endless sleep – letting his soul slip away in the night and leave his body decomposing in the sheets.

To live was to die. To live was to tire and wither, each person a different pace than the last but the ending was always the same.

He was pessimism incarnate. It was never a matter of the drink being half empty or half full – because he’d drink it all away to rid himself thoughts of contemplation, before they had time to bloom.

So sloth had resolved – he wouldn’t get up. He wouldn’t even twitch his finger and waste the energy – he’d wait for the cold nothingness instead - however long it took. It was what he was best at.

Baileyyrosee
World Famous

baileyyrosee wrote:
bump

Account deleted

wrote:
need to remember to finish writing and to actually post it <33

Neurogyn
Youtube Star

Neurogyn wrote:
My entry :']

Account deleted

wrote:
The thing about Thomas was that he hated people. He hated them so much. It started out small, a small amount of dislike perhaps, but with time and age the dislike grew into hatred toward every single man and woman who weren’t himself. He hated the way they walked, the way they talked, the way they breathed - he couldn’t stand it. In every single thing they did, he could find a flaw, a mistake, a defect.

He made a list to the heavenly father to tell him that these sins that every single person other than him committed, should be punished in the afterlife. He threw his soul, his passion and all his energy in these papers. He wrote all his frustrations down, wanting all of his wishes to come true And the heavenly father granted his wish.

The first sin was sloth. Oh, what a horrible thing it was. Everyday he would walk by people sleeping on the streets, pressing their dirty faces against the cold pavement, incapable of doing any kind of work, possessing the inability to do so.

Bosses, sitting in chairs, yelling at their workers for not doing anything right, avoiding doing anything themselves. But he didn’t get angry. No, he felt himself falling deeper and deeper into the depths of despair, of not being able to do anything to change the way everyone around him seemed to sin. He couldn’t bear looking at the sin of sloth anymore, the tried faces and the constant avoidance of any kind of work, whether it was physically or mentally.

The illness of sloth seemed to come over him one day, like an epidemic sickness such as the plague and he couldn’t get rid of it. He had lost all faith in humanity, and the sin was eating him up alive. He found himself dragged into the darkness, the sin, and there was nowhere out. If he could avoid work, he would, and he would most definitely prefer to do so. And he did - he felt sick, ill and he knew that someone had infected him, thrown this curse upon him, and anger filled up inside him, making his blood boil and his veins pop out from under his skin.

He was found dead two days later in his house. The cause of the dead was unknown, but a rumor spread that karma had hit him and God finally did his duty as the heavenly father.

Account deleted

wrote:

Quinzelle wrote:
need to remember to finish writing and to actually post it <33

... I still only have half a story...

PearlPika
Streetmusician

PearlPika wrote:
Entry
Everyone has their weaknesses, for some it's envy,others pride. For Her it was something else,it was the sloth that consumed her and the sheets of slumber she buried her self in. Tired bones and burning eyes kept her confined in a permanent world of lethargy. Sleep was her virtue,her only being, the one thing that took nothing. Nothing except time,the hands of the clock turned slowly whilst she wasted away. She did not care though,for caring took energy and energy was something she had lost long ago. Her face was pale for lack of sun and her cheeks were hollow due to low nutrition. Food was not something she consumed most of the time, her food was the air, that was all she needed to survive. Of course food was brought to her,water too but she only ate what her mouth could chew,depending on her body's will to survive. Now to some she may seem a lazy sloth, to others depressed and broken but she knew. It wasn't that she wanted to be like this, more like her brain had permanently shut itself off,locked away all of it's functions and no amount of sleep could help her, because her brain had died, but her body had not.

Wisteria
International Star

Wisteria wrote:
Once again, he awoke. He felt his eyelids slowly open, only to be met by darkness. His ears picked up the soft surrounding sounds, not making an effort in identifying their origins nor what they were. Had it been like this forever?

He wished he knew more, but the thought of lifting himself off the bed made his entire body feel drained. His entire energy supply had gone to opening his heavy eyelids, to reveal nothing. Only darkness. Despite his will to move his body, it felt limp on the bed with only his mind moving. The attempts to move a finger or to blink were unsuccessful. His mind was racing with questions.

Eventually, after only a few seconds, he gave up. It didn’t matter what he tried to do, he knew what was coming to him:

“You’re lazy. You never do anything. Get out of bed!” The words rang familiar in his head. When would he ever escape the wrath of his family over his inabilities to do work? It wasn’t his fault, after all. He shut his eyes in an attempt to blink and his fingers twitched instead. Was he truly lazy? His family was convinced so. His mother wouldn’t even bother trying, his father only yelling at him when he finally was able to drag his ass out of bed to make a midnight snack.

His eyes flung open, still welcomed by the same darkness. His energy was still depleted, but he managed to shift his body in the bed, turning himself to the side and staring at the other end of his room. Everything had a wash of grey over it, shadows creeping on both the floor and ceiling. He managed to blink. Was this being lazy? He didn’t want to avoid the work, the hassles of life. His body did. Yet, that was something his family wouldn’t comprehend. It was like it had taken control of his life, his will to do anything was kept locked away somewhere in his brain yet he made the effort do get out of bed.

But for what? The approval of his family? He shifted his body to lay on his back again. It wasn’t worth it, getting yelled at. Better to stay in bed and try to avoid them, the other people living in his house. Better to avoid the act of trying, of working on himself – because it only meant to be yelled at. He managed to crack a small smile, before closing his eyes again and going back to sleep without a worry in the world.

Account deleted

wrote:
Adrenaline pumping. Breathing heavy.
The clatter of footsteps grow near. Louder and louder with each step. Closer and closer to the cupboard door.
'Don't open it...' 'Leave!' A gruesome laugh erupts as the owner of the steps unsheathes a knife from their pocket.
aaaanndd - darkness.

"Move it! You're ruining it!" My adventures disappear into the void of Riley's back, who's selected now - in front of the television - is the best time to practice their Weeping Angel impression. Slumping further into the sofa, I swing my leg and whack him behind the legs. He leans backward and turns his head to me, still blocking the TV.
"You'll go through all of this effort to lie in front of the TV all day but as soon as you have to get up for something, you suddenly lose all your energy?" I feel the judgement seething through his words.
"Precisely," I grin, slouching cozily into the sofa and folding my arms triumphantly.

Why should I be judged? People complain and they ask "but don't you want to live? To have adventure? To fall in love?!"
What they don't realise is - I have done all of that a thousand times over. I have explored time and space with The Doctor. Solved crimes with Holmes and Watson. Destroyed The Matrix with Neo. Experienced the love between Patrick and Kat in 10 Things I Hate About You. Between Emma and Hook in Once Upon A Time. Countless times over.
Why are those adventures any less, simply because I spectated them? Because I didn't have to step outside and deal with people? People who are never as good as the fictional kind.
They're too much hassle to deal with.
As Riley just looves to remind me of.

He swoops to the arm of the chair, reaching for the remote. I snap my arm but I'm too late. Instead, it's now stuck between his claws.
"Now," he begins, "What would happen if I moved your beloved and placed it over here?" He dances two steps, placing the remote upon the mantelpiece. In imitation, he slouches into an armchair and folds his arms triumphantly, looking between me and the remote.
"Oh, no. Now what ever shall you do?" his voice lulls, teasingly.
"Do not underestimate my skills," I try to smirk to hide the dread building in the pit of my stomach, "my dear Watson."
I slide my arm down the side of the sofa, retrieving a litter picker stashed on the floor. I then flop onto my stomach, balancing myself on the chair's recliner.
"You're kidding me, right?" hints of incredulous apparent in his voice as Riley scoffed at me,
I stared down at him, my eyes narrow, "It's a fine art you wouldn't understand".
Turning my attention back to my mission, I unsheathe the arm of the litter picker. I then proceed to kick one of the cushions onto the floor, guiding it to it's destination with the picker.
I measure my sights.
I take a deep breath and flex my arm.
The picker heads towards the remote, curling around the back. Sweat pours off of my brow.
In one swift motion, I catapult the remote from the mantel.
My heart stops as it somersaults through the air. A split second where everything is unclear. It's either succeeded or we've lost it forever.
Until, it makes it.
It lands with a soft plop on the cushion and I snap the claw of the litter picker onto a raggedy tassel hanging from the cover's corner. I pull it towards myself and rescue it from it's pillowy sea bed.
Victorious, my arm raises. Remote enclosed safely within my palm, creating my best John Bender stance.
Nothing can stand in my way...
"You're ridiculous."

(So much I'd add and change but sadly, time is not my friend today)

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