Books to The Big Screen discussion

When does this end? The challenge I mean.

Okay :)

It might take me awhile XD

Can I use Sherlock Holmes????

@Catathene

Of course you would XD

You can get Dr. Who XD

I would, but I have only watched four episodes XD

How do you post it? I haven't written one yet, but I'm just wondering.

Ok :)
Can I write as someone from history? They've been in a book before.

Ok awesome.

I'll write about Lorenzo de' Medici :)

Here it goes.
---

I fear that I am in my final hour. Due to my gout, I am constantly in pain. I do not sleep, and whenever I move, more pain causes me extreme discomfort. I bleed and am bruised, though I am not wounded. I fear that I have an hour or less left to live.

Nonetheless, I am content with what my life has been, unlike many men are in their final hours. I ruled Florence during one of the best parts of her life. My city is in bad form now; before I die, I regret that I cannot set her back to greatness.

I am surrounded by friends and family. They are all very comforting, but a little too much. Only one person came and tried to make me uncomfortable, and that was the ridiculous Fra Savonarola, the man who has changed my city for the worse. I tried my best to ignore him while he was at my villa, but when he was in my face asking me to confess my sins, it was impossible to do so. So I made a few lies. I am sure that God shall forgive me when I do die, which will be soon.

At my side are my dear friends, Sandro Botticelli and Angelo Poliziano - the painter and the poet. As soon as that foolish friar had left, they had run in. Poliziano is soaking wet, as it had began to rain when he left Florence for Villa Careggi.

Though Botticelli is now speaking to me, I am somewhat distracted. Across the room, there is an empty space. Nonetheless, I feel that it is somewhat occupied. By someone, some kindly spirit.

I have heard that in a man’s final hour, his deceased family will come and help guide him to the next world. Is that what this is? Approaching now, I can barely see the outline of my brother. Giuliano, is that you?

“Lorenzo, can you hear me?” Botticelli asks.

“What?” I break my gaze. The faint spirit disappears.

“I asked you how you feel.”

“Horrible.”

“What were you looking at?” Poliziano questions.

“Nothing,” I reply, looking back. The spirit has returned, “I thought I saw my brother…”

“Giuliano has been dead for years,” Botticelli tells me. The pain in my joints comes even stronger than ever, possibly from anxiety, or just because I am dying, “He can’t be here.”

“I swear, he was there,” I slightly raise my hand and point in the direction of the spirit, who is still lingering. I put it down after a few seconds, as it is too painful to bear. Poliziano walks over to that corner of the room, and inspects in for any traces of my brother.

“You are delirious, my friend,” he laughs. I faintly smile.

The medic from Pavia has just entered the room. He holds a glass of some grey liquid with specks of what seem to be diamond in it. “This will help you,” he tells me. I doubt it - that medic is just as rediculous as Savonarola. Nonetheless, I grab it out of his hand, and raise it to the ceiling in a toast.

“To Giuliano, my dearest brother: may I see him in the next world, whatever should lie ahead!”

I put the glass to my mouth and drink the vile liquid. It tastes horrible. I had previously thought about a last meal would be like, and for those who look back on my life, do not die the way I will - drinking... whatever that was.

I rest back in the bed where I lay, and sigh.

"Poliziano, do finish that Stanze per la giosta for me. For Giuliano."

"Yessir," he smiles, "Anything for il Magnifico!" That's what the Florentines call me. Well, not Savonarola...

“Goodbye, Sandro, Poliziano...” I whisper hoarsely, “…tell my son to rule wisely… and…” I stop for two reasons – first, I couldn’t think of anything to say; second, I didn’t have the spirit to say whatever would come to mind. I hear the crash of thunder - something in the distance was just struck by lightning.

I close my eyes, and grab Botticelli’s hand.

Goodbye.

Thank you :)

I've experimented with the character and that single scene a bunch. First I took a point of view, from a real novel that I read, then I changed it (added the spirit/Giuliano), then I took it from the spirit's point of view, then back to Lorenzo's...

Thanks :D

If you want to read, it, this is where the original idea came from: https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/...

and then the idea of the spirit came from here: https://www.goodreads.com/story/show/...

Hey Samantha, is it alright if I write a story from an event in a nonfiction novel?

That's what I did

Okay, because I am reading a nonfiction novel that intrigued me at one point and I want to make up a character to go through with that.

Thanks!!! :)

Wait so are you guys still doing this?

Crap, I can't! Sorry, guys! I have tons of work to do and I don't think I can do it.

Ok

I need a little more time.....but I think I will. Wait so how long should it be????

It says like 1-2 pages. Look at mine above that might be a good length. It was like 1.5 pages on word 8.5x11

Okay....so here goes, i guess....this is part of a longer story i have been writing, about a young sherlock holmes. Meg-meg, this story will look very familiar to you...;P

SH

I wake up and push off the bedclothes. Why is everything so loud? The bright, blaring words pushing at me, purposeless.

For once when my life actually clicked into place, dear old mumsy had to step in and ruin it. I slump downstairs still in my pajamas and robe. My hair is probably a wild mess, but I don’t really care.

“Morning, Sherlock,” Mum says, scooping a large portion of scrambled eggs and putting them on a cracked blue porcelain plate.
“Yes, it is,” I say shortly, with just a hint of sarcasm. Mum sighs.

For a second she drops her smile and brushes a wisp of graying hair away from her face. I pity her. Then I remember this is the woman who forbade me from solving any more cases with the police.

My cases were all I had. And she snatched them out of my grip. I sit in silence. Ten minutes until I have to leave for school.
I hear Mycroft’s footsteps on the staircase. He’s home from university for a week.
“Morning, mum,” he says cheerfully. Then he puts his face right up against my shoulder.
“How’s my baby brother?”
I mumble, “shove off” under my breath.

Now his smirk’s gone, all right. At least I still get this small satisfaction. Mycroft makes a point of eating his eggs with enthusiasm, and then eats mine, too, daring me to object. Jerk. Mum seems to be resigned to us not getting along. She scrubs a pan with purpose.

The minutes pass by, Mycroft chewing loudly. I try to count how many specks of dirt are on the kitchen wall. (137, if you’re curious.) Finally, mum timidly breaks the awkward silence.

“Sherlock, sweetheart, you’d better get going or you’ll be late for school.”
Ugggh. School. The most epic waste of my time. I stand up and head for the door.
“Aren’t you going to change?” Mycroft snorts. I glare at him. He knows I find self- grooming ridiculous.
“At least wear your coat.” Mum says. I put it on, just to shut her up. Plus, I don’t really mind it. It does keep me warm.

I try to escape without all the tedious sentiment, but no such luck. Mum grabs me and brushes my unruly bangs back from my face to kiss my forehead. I immediately jerk away and wipe the wetness off. Then I leave the flat and slam the door behind me.

I only feel a bit bad as I imagine my mother dejectedly clearing my plate from the table.

Catathene wrote: "Okay....so here goes, i guess....this is part of a longer story i have been writing, about a young sherlock holmes. Meg-meg, this story will look very familiar to you...;P

SH

I wake up and push ..."

That's great!!!

OMG!!!!! I LOVE THAT STORY!!!!!! CAT, you are amazing, my friend!!!!

Thanks! LOL megan, u already read it! :P

I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! XDDDD


IT STILL AMAZING!!!!!!!

Do read mine :)

I did read yours, Emma! I found it absolutely wonderful! Both of you are like, destined to be famous authors!!!

Thanks ;) I published a book actually.

REALLY???? What is it???? MUSTREADMUSTREAD!!! :P

Click on my profile!

Darkness. Light's old foe. Lying in wait to pounce upon the innocent. Death's own friend and ally. They shall come for me soon, Death and Darkness. I lie in wait. Memories pulse in my head, drums pounding down until my end. Zachary. Dead. Marianna. Dead. Family....Dead. I am truly alone. Death and Darkness have claimed my loved ones. They come for me next. Cold, damp ground. Body shaking with sickness. Rain splattering my face. Empty sky.

Light will not help me. They are coming for me. Nothing shall prevent them. The mourning calls for help in the air. The sharp odor of puke and blood hanging over us like a cloud. A vengeful cloud full of hate sent from Light. We have failed Light. Failed to bring joy and comfort to Ireland. It is all our doing. All my doing. All my fault. Now Death and Darkness will collect us. Collect me. I deserve this. I have failed.