Quote movies that do not exist.

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Jul 30, 2009 2:46 AM #468527
Quote from Myself
SUPER: New Line Cinema Presents

SUPER: A Wingnut Films Production

BLACK CONTINUES... ELVISH SINGING....A WOMAN'S VOICE IS
whispering, tinged with SADNESS and REGRET:

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
(Elvish: subtitled)
"I amar prestar sen: han mathon ne nen,
han mathon ne chae...a han noston ned
wilith."
(English:)
The world is changed: I feel it in the
water, I feel it in the earth, I smell it
in the air...Much that once was is lost,
for none now live who remember it.

SUPER: THE LORD OF THE RINGS

EXT. PROLOGUE -- DAY

IMAGE: FLICKERING FIRELIGHT. The NOLDORIN FORGE in EREGION.
MOLTEN GOLD POURS from the lip of an IRON LADLE.

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
It began with the forging of the Great
Rings.

IMAGE: THREE RINGS, each set with a single GEM, are received
by the HIGH ELVES-GALADRIEL, GIL-GALAD and CIRDAN.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Three were given to the Elves, immortal,
wisest...fairest of all beings.

IMAGE: SEVEN RINGS held aloft in triumph by the DWARF LORDS.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Seven to the Dwarf Lords, great miners
and craftsmen of the mountain halls.

IMAGE: NINE RINGS clutched tightly by the KINGS OF MEN...as
if holding-close a precious secret.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And Nine...nine rings were gifted to the
race of Men who, above all else, desire
power.
(MORE)



(CONTINUED)
2.
CONTINUED:
GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
For within these rings was bound the
strength and will to govern each race.

FADE TO BLACK

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But they were all of them deceived.

FADE UP: An ancient PARCHMENT MAP of MIDDLE EARTH...moving
slowly across the MAP as if drawn by an unseen force the
CAMERA closes in on a PLACE NAME...MORDOR.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
...for another ring was made.

TEASING SHOTS: SAURON forging the ONE RING in the CHAMBERS of
SAMMATH NAUR.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
In the land of Mordor, in the fires of
Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged
in secret a Master Ring to control all
others.


IMAGE: The ONE RING reflecting FIERY LAVA! FIRE WRITING
emerges on the plain BAND OF GOLD.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
...and into this Ring he poured his
cruelty, his malice and his will to
dominate all life.

IMAGE: THE ONE RING falls through SPACE and into flames...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
One Ring to rule them all...

IMAGE: A GREAT SHADOW falls across the MAP...closing in
around the realm of GONDOR...

IMAGE: SCREAMING VILLAGERS, MEN, WOMEN, AND CHILDREN, RUN

from their homes, pursued by ARMIES OF HIDEOUS ORCS.

GALADRIEL
One by one the Free lands of Middle earth
fell to the power of the ring.

FADE TO BLACK

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But there were some...who resisted.


(CONTINUED)
3.
CONTINUED:


FADE UP: ISILDUR, son of the KING OF GONDOR, leads an ARMY
ACROSS the PLAINS OF DAGORLAD...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
A last alliance of Men and Elves marched
against the armies of Mordor.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
On the slopes of Mount Doom they fought
for the freedom of Middle- Earth.

TEASING SHOTS: THE BATTLE OF DAGORLAD...THE ELF LORD, ELROND,

commands rank after rank of ELVEN ARCHERS...ORCS RETREATING
before the ARMY of the LAST ALLIANCE...ELENDIL holds aloft
the great sword....NARSIL!

GALADRIEL
Victory was near!

IMAGES: THE HUGE, DARK FIGURE OF SARURON, bearing the ONE
RING on his finger, looms over the field of battle...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But the power of the Ring could not be
undone.

IMAGE: SAURON lays waste to the armies of the LAST ALLIANCE.
With desperate courage, ELENDIL leads a charge...THE BLACK
MACE OF SAURON LASHES OUT!! IMAGE: ELENDIL'S body falls like
a crumpled rag doll... IMAGE: ISILDUR cradles the body of his
father in his arms. The SHADOW OF SAURON falls over him...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It was in this moment..when all hope had
faded, that Isildur, son of the king,
took up his father's sword.

ISILDUR snatches up the BROKEN BLADE OF NARSIL..The BLADE
severs SAURON'S FINGERS... AND THE ONE RING FLIES from his
body.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Sauron, the enemy of the Free Peoples of
Middle Earth, was defeated. SAURON'S
ARMOR clatters to the ground. His body

GONE....VAPORIZED! CLOSE ON: ISILDUR picks up the SEVERED
FINGER and removes the ONE RING...transfixed!

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
The Ring passed to Isildur...who had this
one chance to destroy evil forever.

(CONTINUED)
4.
CONTINUED:


IMAGE: GLADDEN FIELD...ISILDUR leads a small column of men
through DARKENING WOODS...the ONE RING glinting on a CHAIN
around his neck.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But the hearts of Men are easily
corrupted. And the Ring of Power has a
will of its own.

SUDDENLY! ARROWS FLY! They are ambushed by ORCS...ISILDUR
SCREAMS!

FADE TO BLACK

FADE UP: ISILDUR MATERIALIZES UNDER WATER...as THE RING slips
slowly from his finger. Ripples of LIGHT play across
ISILDUR'S PALE FACE...he is DEAD.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It betrayed Isildur to his death.

IMAGE: THE RING falls through the MURKY WATERS of the RIVER
ANDUIN.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And some things that should not have been
forgotten...were lost.

FADE TO BLACK

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
History became legend...legend became
myth.

FADE UP: The waters of the ANDUIN RIVER lie dark and
undisturbed.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And for two and a half thousand years the
Ring passed out of all knowledge.

IMAGE: SILT SWIRLS...A THIN WHITE HAND reaches
down...grasping the RING...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Until, when chance came, it ensnared a
new bearer!

IMAGE: THE THIN WHITE HAND opens to reveal one ring.

GOLLUM (V.O.)
My Precious...
5.



IMAGE: MIST SHROUDED MOUNTAINS...

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
The Ring came to the creature Gollum, who
took it deep into the tunnels of the
Misty Mountains.

IMAGE: THE GLOOM of a MOUNTAIN CAVERN..a MURKY POOL of
WATER...in the DARKNESS the SHADOWY OUTLINE of an EMACIATED
FIGURE.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And there, it consumed him. A RASPY VOICE
mutters in the half light...

GOLLUM
It came to me. My own. My love...
(ecstatic whisper)
My preciousness.

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
The Ring brought to Gollum unnatural long
life. For five hundred years it poisoned
his mind. And in the gloom of Gollum's
cave...

FADE TO BLACK

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It waited.

FADE UP: Bathed in COLD MOONLIGHT, the WORLD lies DARK and
STILL...the unsettled quiet before the storm...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Darkness crept back into the forests of
the world. Rumor grew of a Shadow in the
East...whispers of a nameless fear. And
the Ring of Power perceived...its time
had now come. It abandoned Gollum.

SLOW MOTION: unseen by its KEEPER..THE RING falls to the
MUDDY FLOOR of a MOUNTAIN TUNNEL...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But something happened then the Ring did
not intend...

FADE TO BLACK

IMAGE: FUMBLING in the dark, a SMALL HAND closes over the
6.



RING.

GALADRIEL
It was picked up by the most unlikely
creature imaginable...

BILBO
(to himself)
What's this?

A YOUNGISH LOOKING BILBO BAGGINS peers down at what lies in
his hand...PERPLEXED by what he has found.

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
A Hobbit....Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.

BILBO
(surprised)
A Ring.

SUDDENLY! A VOICE SCREAMS...ITS ANGUISH RINGING through the

COLD, DANK TUNNELS...

GOLLUM (V.O.)
Lost! Lost! My Precious is lost!!

Frightened Bilbo quickly POCKETS the ONE RING and hurries on.

DISSOLVE TO:

WIDE ON: THE CAMERA SOARS AWAY FROM THE MOUNTAINS. MOVING

FASTER AND FASTER...THEIR DARK GREEN FORESTS AND JAGGED

WHITE PEAKS RECEDING INTO THE SHROUD OF MIST

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
For the time will soon come when Hobbits
will shape the fortunes of all.

FADE TO BLACK


Oh wait.


****ing Epic...
MagicalTrevor
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Aug 1, 2009 9:52 PM #469755
*Slowly zooming in through a door that leads to a small gray room*
Ned:Please, give me another chance! I won't fail you again.
Jack:You're right, Ned. You won't fail me. Ever again.
*As Ned falls to his knees, Jack pulls out a small pistol.*
Jack:Goodbye Ned.
*Jack fires pistol. Ned collapses to ground; a pool of blood starts to form as blood leaks from Ned's stomach.*
Ned:Ugh...n-no...
Jack:Don't worry Ned. There's always Dave.
Wtf
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Aug 1, 2009 10:40 PM #469766
Quote from Myself
SUPER: New Line Cinema Presents

SUPER: A Wingnut Films Production

BLACK CONTINUES... ELVISH SINGING....A WOMAN'S VOICE IS
whispering, tinged with SADNESS and REGRET:

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
(Elvish: subtitled)
"I amar prestar sen: han mathon ne nen,
han mathon ne chae...a han noston ned
wilith."
(English:)
The world is changed: I feel it in the
water, I feel it in the earth, I smell it
in the air...Much that once was is lost,
for none now live who remember it.

SUPER: THE LORD OF THE RINGS

EXT. PROLOGUE -- DAY

IMAGE: FLICKERING FIRELIGHT. The NOLDORIN FORGE in EREGION.
MOLTEN GOLD POURS from the lip of an IRON LADLE.

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
It began with the forging of the Great
Rings.

IMAGE: THREE RINGS, each set with a single GEM, are received
by the HIGH ELVES-GALADRIEL, GIL-GALAD and CIRDAN.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Three were given to the Elves, immortal,
wisest...fairest of all beings.

IMAGE: SEVEN RINGS held aloft in triumph by the DWARF LORDS.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Seven to the Dwarf Lords, great miners
and craftsmen of the mountain halls.

IMAGE: NINE RINGS clutched tightly by the KINGS OF MEN...as
if holding-close a precious secret.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And Nine...nine rings were gifted to the
race of Men who, above all else, desire
power.
(MORE)



(CONTINUED)
2.
CONTINUED:
GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
For within these rings was bound the
strength and will to govern each race.

FADE TO BLACK

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But they were all of them deceived.

FADE UP: An ancient PARCHMENT MAP of MIDDLE EARTH...moving
slowly across the MAP as if drawn by an unseen force the
CAMERA closes in on a PLACE NAME...MORDOR.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
...for another ring was made.

TEASING SHOTS: SAURON forging the ONE RING in the CHAMBERS of
SAMMATH NAUR.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
In the land of Mordor, in the fires of
Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged
in secret a Master Ring to control all
others.


IMAGE: The ONE RING reflecting FIERY LAVA! FIRE WRITING
emerges on the plain BAND OF GOLD.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
...and into this Ring he poured his
cruelty, his malice and his will to
dominate all life.

IMAGE: THE ONE RING falls through SPACE and into flames...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
One Ring to rule them all...

IMAGE: A GREAT SHADOW falls across the MAP...closing in
around the realm of GONDOR...

IMAGE: SCREAMING VILLAGERS, MEN, WOMEN, AND CHILDREN, RUN

from their homes, pursued by ARMIES OF HIDEOUS ORCS.

GALADRIEL
One by one the Free lands of Middle earth
fell to the power of the ring.

FADE TO BLACK

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But there were some...who resisted.


(CONTINUED)
3.
CONTINUED:


FADE UP: ISILDUR, son of the KING OF GONDOR, leads an ARMY
ACROSS the PLAINS OF DAGORLAD...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
A last alliance of Men and Elves marched
against the armies of Mordor.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
On the slopes of Mount Doom they fought
for the freedom of Middle- Earth.

TEASING SHOTS: THE BATTLE OF DAGORLAD...THE ELF LORD, ELROND,

commands rank after rank of ELVEN ARCHERS...ORCS RETREATING
before the ARMY of the LAST ALLIANCE...ELENDIL holds aloft
the great sword....NARSIL!

GALADRIEL
Victory was near!

IMAGES: THE HUGE, DARK FIGURE OF SARURON, bearing the ONE
RING on his finger, looms over the field of battle...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But the power of the Ring could not be
undone.

IMAGE: SAURON lays waste to the armies of the LAST ALLIANCE.
With desperate courage, ELENDIL leads a charge...THE BLACK
MACE OF SAURON LASHES OUT!! IMAGE: ELENDIL'S body falls like
a crumpled rag doll... IMAGE: ISILDUR cradles the body of his
father in his arms. The SHADOW OF SAURON falls over him...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It was in this moment..when all hope had
faded, that Isildur, son of the king,
took up his father's sword.

ISILDUR snatches up the BROKEN BLADE OF NARSIL..The BLADE
severs SAURON'S FINGERS... AND THE ONE RING FLIES from his
body.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Sauron, the enemy of the Free Peoples of
Middle Earth, was defeated. SAURON'S
ARMOR clatters to the ground. His body

GONE....VAPORIZED! CLOSE ON: ISILDUR picks up the SEVERED
FINGER and removes the ONE RING...transfixed!

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
The Ring passed to Isildur...who had this
one chance to destroy evil forever.

(CONTINUED)
4.
CONTINUED:


IMAGE: GLADDEN FIELD...ISILDUR leads a small column of men
through DARKENING WOODS...the ONE RING glinting on a CHAIN
around his neck.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But the hearts of Men are easily
corrupted. And the Ring of Power has a
will of its own.

SUDDENLY! ARROWS FLY! They are ambushed by ORCS...ISILDUR
SCREAMS!

FADE TO BLACK

FADE UP: ISILDUR MATERIALIZES UNDER WATER...as THE RING slips
slowly from his finger. Ripples of LIGHT play across
ISILDUR'S PALE FACE...he is DEAD.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It betrayed Isildur to his death.

IMAGE: THE RING falls through the MURKY WATERS of the RIVER
ANDUIN.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And some things that should not have been
forgotten...were lost.

FADE TO BLACK

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
History became legend...legend became
myth.

FADE UP: The waters of the ANDUIN RIVER lie dark and
undisturbed.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And for two and a half thousand years the
Ring passed out of all knowledge.

IMAGE: SILT SWIRLS...A THIN WHITE HAND reaches
down...grasping the RING...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Until, when chance came, it ensnared a
new bearer!

IMAGE: THE THIN WHITE HAND opens to reveal one ring.

GOLLUM (V.O.)
My Precious...
5.



IMAGE: MIST SHROUDED MOUNTAINS...

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
The Ring came to the creature Gollum, who
took it deep into the tunnels of the
Misty Mountains.

IMAGE: THE GLOOM of a MOUNTAIN CAVERN..a MURKY POOL of
WATER...in the DARKNESS the SHADOWY OUTLINE of an EMACIATED
FIGURE.

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
And there, it consumed him. A RASPY VOICE
mutters in the half light...

GOLLUM
It came to me. My own. My love...
(ecstatic whisper)
My preciousness.

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
The Ring brought to Gollum unnatural long
life. For five hundred years it poisoned
his mind. And in the gloom of Gollum's
cave...

FADE TO BLACK

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
It waited.

FADE UP: Bathed in COLD MOONLIGHT, the WORLD lies DARK and
STILL...the unsettled quiet before the storm...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
Darkness crept back into the forests of
the world. Rumor grew of a Shadow in the
East...whispers of a nameless fear. And
the Ring of Power perceived...its time
had now come. It abandoned Gollum.

SLOW MOTION: unseen by its KEEPER..THE RING falls to the
MUDDY FLOOR of a MOUNTAIN TUNNEL...

GALADRIEL (V.O.) (CONT'D)
But something happened then the Ring did
not intend...

FADE TO BLACK

IMAGE: FUMBLING in the dark, a SMALL HAND closes over the
6.



RING.

GALADRIEL
It was picked up by the most unlikely
creature imaginable...

BILBO
(to himself)
What's this?

A YOUNGISH LOOKING BILBO BAGGINS peers down at what lies in
his hand...PERPLEXED by what he has found.

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
A Hobbit....Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.

BILBO
(surprised)
A Ring.

SUDDENLY! A VOICE SCREAMS...ITS ANGUISH RINGING through the

COLD, DANK TUNNELS...

GOLLUM (V.O.)
Lost! Lost! My Precious is lost!!

Frightened Bilbo quickly POCKETS the ONE RING and hurries on.

DISSOLVE TO:

WIDE ON: THE CAMERA SOARS AWAY FROM THE MOUNTAINS. MOVING

FASTER AND FASTER...THEIR DARK GREEN FORESTS AND JAGGED

WHITE PEAKS RECEDING INTO THE SHROUD OF MIST

GALADRIEL (V.O.)
For the time will soon come when Hobbits
will shape the fortunes of all.

FADE TO BLACK


Oh wait.

You should write a script or so, you have talent.
Saline
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Aug 4, 2009 6:05 PM #471103
The golem girl sat in the corner of a ruined basement.



The basement was under about fifteen feet of rubble, in a
small town southwest of Carthage, on the edge of the desert which had once been
held up as an example of learning for its sorcerers and scholars, and which was
now held up as an example of what an earthquake could do to the unprepared.



The golem's creator was dead. He had been caught under an
enormous beam, and though the golem girl had moved it aside as lightly as an
empty seedpod, it had crushed the old rabbi’s body, and he died with his head
in her cool clay lap. His last blood-flecked words, as he saw the end approach,
were a common enough sentiment among people in that situation--"Not yet! Wait--"



The golem girl accepted this final command with the cool ceramic
stoicism that she had accepted all the others, and she waited.



It was dark in the basement, after the city fell on it. Dust
sifted down, and beams groaned, for the first few weeks, and that was all. The
rabbi mummified in the dry desert air, his skin dry and cracked and leathery,
lips skinning back from the teeth, where they lay against the golem girl’s
knee.
Saline
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Aug 4, 2009 6:07 PM #471106
She waited.



The winds that fall blew the dust and the dirt aside, and
piled it in corners, so that it sifted down again in places, and small holes
opened up in the tangle of beams and let light in. It was a muted, indirect
light, but it divided the world into day and night again.



She continued to wait.



Two years later, the grandfather of all sandstorms blew up
from the desert. Travelers a hundred miles away reported that the noon sky turned black as sackcloth. In the ruined town, darkness came, and lasted for
three days as sand fell like gritty rain.




In the basement, newly buried again under several feet of
sand, the darkness stayed for three centuries.




This did not bother the golem girl. When you are fashioned
of immortal clay, immune to boredom, hunger, pain or weariness, very little
bothers you. Her skin was the cool, firm texture of clay that potters call
“leather hard” to the touch, but neither swords nor sandstorms left a mark on
it. Short of a direct nuclear blast, being dumped into a live volcano, or
running afoul of a mob of trained rabbinical scholars with enchanted
sledgehammers, she was unlikely to be destroyed. This removed the primary
source of angst in life, and left her as placid and calm as the darkness around
her.
Saline
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Aug 4, 2009 6:08 PM #471107
The thoughts of a golem are much like clay, as one might
expect. They are laid down in flat sheets, like sedimentary layers forming on a
lakebed, each on top of another, the weight of slow and ponderous thoughts
crushing down, until the bottom layers are as hard and implacable as stone. If
you sliced open a golem’s consciousness—assuming you could find it, which is
the tricky part, golem consciousness being one of those rare items like
virgin’s milk and the philosopher’s stone—it would look like a cross-section of
fine bands, each memory fossilized within it like a tiny leggy creature
captured in shale.




In the basement, the memory of the dark grew into a thick
band of rich black across the golem’s mind. She sat, immortal and alone,
cradling the rabbi’s body, while centuries filtered by like sand grains
trickling from the holes in the ceiling. The wind outside sighed and whistled
and rubbed itself across the rubble, but found no entry.




The rabbi desiccated in the dark, becoming hollow bone
wrapped in parchment-like rags of skin. This did not bother her either. The
rabbi had sent her to defend the city, once, and she had torn men in half with
her delicate ceramic hands. It would be hard to say if that had bothered her,
particularly—she was mute, as golems always are—but the layer of those thoughts
was a thin, rust-colored band, that stood out shockingly red against the grey
and dun sediments on either side.




She continued to wait.




Eventually the winds wore away at the sands until daylight
came again. The rabbi was as fragile as ancient scroll now, but since the golem
girl did not move, that didn’t much matter.
Saline
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Aug 4, 2009 6:08 PM #471109
A few years later, a bird flying over the ruined city did
something common to birds, and a wet white plop, angled with startling
precision, fell through a hole in the boards and splattered on a pile of dirt
about three feet from the golem girl’s right knee.




This did not bother the golem girl. When one resembles
statuary, one learns to take the ministrations of birds philosophically within
a very short time.




There was a seed contained within the bird’s excrement.
Surrounded by fertilizer, having landed within a hospitable pocket of dirt out
of the sighing winds, it began to grow.




The seedling was tiny, and green, and the golem girl’s
porcelain eyes were fixed upon it. It was a bizarre thing in the dim basement,
an exuberantly green thing in a world of dusty brown and black. It grew
lavishly, wastefully, throwing out pairs of leaves, growing leggily towards the
daylight so far overhead. Its stem was pale white, shading to green at the base
of the leaves, and the roots were yellowish where they clawed through the guano
into the dirt. It was a whole universe of color.




Almost imperceptibly, at the same rate that a seedling grew,
the golem’s narrow clay chin rose, so that her eyes could follow that twining,
ridiculous green.




There was not enough water in the basement. The leaves
turned yellow, drooped. One fell, and at last, the golem moved perceptibly, her
head turning, watching the leaf skitter and drift down, down, until at last it
rested on the ground. The small, curled yellow leaf in the center of the dry
ground might have looked like a death to a human, but to the golem girl, it was
as if the leaf was an annunciation, as if by its touch, the ground had been
made holy.
Saline
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Aug 4, 2009 6:09 PM #471112
Another leaf fell, a few hours later, and the golem turned
her torso a few inches to watch it fall.




It was too much for the rabbi. Quietly, and without fuss, he
crumbled into dust.




The golem looked down, from the leaf, to her lap, at the
dust and the few dull fragments of bone that had been a living man for eighty
years, and a dead man for over three hundred.




It occurred to her then that the plant might die, as the
rabbi had.




The thin greenish sedimentary layer that a geologist—or
psychologist, with golems the two were not entirely distinct—might identify
with the arrival of the plant churned suddenly, as if on the bottom of the
lakebed, a large fish had darted through the muck and roiled it up in murky
clouds.




This was a thought too large and active to fossilize. This
demanded action. The rabbi had told her to wait, and she had waited. But “wait”
was a nebulous command, and it did not mean that she could not follow other
commands, if only someone would give them.




The plant needed water. It could not speak, of course, any
more than a golem could. But the curl of the wilting leaves, the wan yellow
color against the gloom—this was a cry for water, an order for water, in the
language of plants. It was not a human language, but the golem was not human. Although
the plant did not know it had acquired a golem, she had perceived the need, and
the implicit order, as clearly as if it had shouted aloud.




The golem rose to her feet. There were stones and beams in
the way, which she brushed aside as casually as a man might brush aside
cobwebs. They fell, groaning, the air filling with dust, and she slung them
away from the leggy, wilting plant.




Centuries ago, there had been a well at the center of the
town. The golem dug it out with her hands, excavating down forty feet in a
single afternoon. Water oozed from the damp muck at the bottom, and she made a
cup of one hand and climbed out, one-handed, her ceramic feet braced against
the stones.




Using one hand as a cup, she ferried water back and forth to
the plant at need, season after season, year after year, until it was a thorny,
bright-leafed tree. When she was not climbing down the well, she sat under the
tree, cross-legged, holding the tree’s afternoon shadow across her lap as she
had once held the dying rabbi.




One afternoon, the air crackled, and the sky turned grey,
and a rare desert rain came down. Raindrop craters in the dust gave way to wet,
glinting sand, gave way to puddles, and left a damp sheen on the trunk of the
tree and the skin of the golem. The roots of the tree sank into the puddle
forming in the basement, and drank deep.




And that was it. The tree did not need her any more. The
golem stood up in the rain, and touched the tree. That is perhaps the oddest
part of the story, that gesture. A golem girl, made of clay, without heart or
by even the wildest stretch of theology a soul, patted the tree’s trunk, and
the tree’s leaves whispered in the rain.




She had been told to wait, but not where, or for how long.




She walked northeast. There was no particular reason to walk
northeast, except that was the direction the street ran, and thus it required
knocking down the fewest number of walls in order to leave the city. She left
broad semi-circular prints that would never be mistaken for human behind her,
and one by one, they filled up with rain.




A band of ragged travelers found her, several days later, a
clay woman leaving a track as straight as a razorblade across the desert. They
had camels—great grumbling, ill-knit beasts with foamy lips and weary eyes. The
travelers spoke to her, and what they said was not terribly important. Much of
it was jeering, and baffled. More important were the glazed eyes of the camels.
The golem girl read a need there, and with the need, an order, phrased,
perhaps, in the creaking and grumbling language of camels.
Saline
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Aug 4, 2009 6:09 PM #471114
The travelers asked her to follow, and she did. It was just
as well that they asked, because she would have followed for the sake of the
camels, and this was less awkward. They asked her to do the dishes that night,
and she did, and later to water the camels, and she did, and so, as an
uncomplaining servant, she crossed the great desert. They were not good men,
but this did not bother her, and she took excellent care of the camels.




They did not realize that she was obeying them out of
convenience, and that her masters were three large, gloomy animals that stank
and spat and kicked their owners, and so the travelers were very surprised that
once they had reached the other side, she simply walked into the city and took
their camels with her. She left the beasts in a stableyard on the other side of
the city, where the animals were healthy and well-tended looking. She believed
they would be happier there, and the odds are good that they were.




The golem girl traveled for a long time. She went through
several different worlds, the walls between them of no great concern to her.
She continued to wait, and while she waited, she followed the unvoiced orders
of a great many creatures, seemingly at random, from a cranky tortoise to a
small, struggling trillium flower. (An entire road was rerouted, and several
men died, in the course of following the trillium’s orders. The golem girl was
not malicious, but she was extremely efficient.) She set an emperor on the
throne, almost by accident, in order to make his small granddaughter happy. She
took a dull black pebble from a mountain and walked across most of a continent
to set it down in the middle of a stream. She carried a baby musk-ox away from
a pack of wolves, and six months later, she was snapping the necks of rabbits
to feed a gaunt-ribbed wolf and her three crying offspring.




Eventually, she came to a house in the forest, built in the
trunk of a great tree, hung with red lanterns and full of laughter. She came
there carrying a small luxuriantly finned fish, wrapped in wet leaves, and she
went inside, and walked to the mistress of the house, and stood there, a nude
woman the grey-brown color of unfired clay.




“What brings you here, my dear?” asked the mistress, aware
of the silence spreading around her, as clients turned to look at the golem
girl, as if the noise was sediment in a pond settling slowly to the bottom.




The golem girl proffered her fish.




If this had been a normal house, the mistress might have
laughed, or have said something scathing, or just have asked what the devil a
naked clay woman was doing walking in and handing her a wet fish. But this was
the House of Red Fireflies, the greatest whorehouse in the world, and the
mistress was a plump, matronly woman who had once killed a god with a broken
beer bottle, and she looked at the fish, and she nodded.




She waved to one of the other madams to take her place, and
she led the golem girl down to the bar. The golem girl pointed to a round,
wide-mouthed glass vessel. It contained a rare liquor made of the tears of
elephants mixed with fermented honey, but the matron dumped it into another
bottle without a second thought, and handed the jar to the golem girl.




The golem washed it very carefully, and filled it with
spring water to an inch below the brim, and carefully unwrapped her fish and
dropped it into the jar. It shivered its fins, and swam a circuit, and the
golem girl nodded solemnly, and looked up at the matron.




“Do you have a master at the moment?” asked the matron.




The golem pointed to the fish.




This did not faze the matron noticeably. “Would your fish
object to you being a prostitute?”*




The golem, and possibly the fish, considered this.




“I could pay you in fish food…” said the matron, feeling a
trifle lightheaded.
Saline
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Aug 4, 2009 6:10 PM #471115
The golem’s expression was hard to read, but the matron
quickly amended to “Partially in fish food,” anyway.




The golem gazed at the fish. She dipped her finger into the
liquor made of elephant tears and wrote with a damp finger across the bar, in
neat letters, in a language not commonly spoken aloud for three hundred years.




The matron said “Hmmm,” and grabbed a servant, who grabbed
another two servants, who fanned out through the bar area, calling “Is there a
scholar of ancient tongues in the house?”




There were three. The House of Red Fireflies was just that kind of
establishment.



Of the three, one recognized the text. He was tall and
bearded and had close-set blue eyes that lit appreciatively upon the golem
girl. “I have not seen craftsmanship like you in a very long time,” he said,
and bowed politely to her. “My compliments to your creator.” The golem girl
bowed politely in return.




He read the text, and said to the matron, “She wants to know
if you have a garden.”




“We do,” said the matron. The golem girl wrote more.




“She wishes to put a pond in it, for her fish.”




“There are several ponds already.”




“The fish wants a new one.”




“We can do that,” said the matron, not one to let existing
landscaping get in the way of a once-in-a-lifetime procurement opportunity.




The scholar looked at the matron, and then, because he was a
decent man, he spoke to the golem girl in the dead tongue, for several minutes,
and explained in that dry, precise language what would likely be asked of a
golem in the House of Red Fireflies. He felt somewhat foolish doing so, for a
golem was arguably no more sentient or emotional than a crowbar, but he did it
anyway.




The golem girl wrote out a question.




The scholar’s white eyebrows shot up, but he said to the
matron “She says that you must know she follows the orders she…perceives…not
the orders that may be spoken aloud.”




“What do you think?” asked the matron.




“I think this is not a usual golem,” he said, and drew his
coat around him.




“It’s fair,” said the matron.




The golem girl nodded, and extended her hand to the matron,
who took the cool ceramic fingers in her own warm human ones, and shook it.






At the House of Red Fireflies, on the banks of the Feverstream,
there is a golem girl who works in the evenings. She serves often behind the
great black Door, at the bottom of the shallow spiral staircase etched with
peacocks made of chains, where the dangerous creatures of the otherworld come
to sate themselves. This does not seem to bother her. When you are
indestructible, and feel neither pain nor boredom, and when you have found a
place where you belong, very little bothers you.




She discovered early on that the great and terrible creatures behind the Door
sometimes give very different orders than the ones they speak aloud, and as she
told the matron, it is those unspoken orders to which she answers. But whatever
those answers may be, they stay behind the Door, and behind the golem girl’s
ceramic eyes, and we will not discuss them here.



She is paid a great deal of money for her services, and with
the occasional aid of the tall and bearded scholar of ancient tongues, she uses
it to buy plants. The garden of the House of Red Fireflies was attractive
enough before, but now it is a wonder. At the center, there is a large
fishpond, which contains a contented long-finned fish, and around it are a
number of thorny, bright-leafed trees, which occasionally send yellow leaves
flickering down to the surface of the water.




And there she continues to wait.






*Disturbingly enough, this was not the first time she had
had to ask that question of someone.
Garuda
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Aug 5, 2009 5:00 AM #471302
I didn't know this was the story thread
Oblivion EX
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Aug 5, 2009 5:18 AM #471307
Jesus: "LIIIIIINNNNNCCCCOOOOOLLLLLLNNNN!!!!"

Quoted from "Jesus II: The Wrath of Lincoln."
Saline
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Aug 5, 2009 5:09 PM #471439
Quote from Garuda
I didn't know this was the story thread


Straight from DA my good friend.