ExoKnight
08-11-2006, 01:13 AM
I'm not much of a writer. I just do some basic stuff in my spare time. I've wrote up four pages of this comic book for the fun of it. I was wondering what everyone thought of it. Does it suck really bad? Anything positive to say. :) Don't really have a title for it. I just sat down and starting writing with a basic plot in my mind. Critics welcomed.
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Page 1:
Panel 1: The inside of a run down and dirty apartment. Darkness shadows the worn out twin bed in the corner. The boards on the floor are cracked. A cracked ceiling light brings some illumination. In the center of the panel are two men playing chess on a small table with filled up ashtrays and smoke swirling around. On the left side is an older man wearing a black suit with a lavender tie. His face is wrinkled and tired. His thinning white hair is pulled back into a pony tail. On the right is a man in his mid-thirties. He’s of average build, with short black hair, and wearing faded old jeans and a white tee-shirt.
Panel 2: Close up on the old man. (Face and shoulders.) Wrinkles reveal his age and light scars dot his face. A cigarette is neatly tucked in his mouth. Smoke obscuring the scene.
Caption: Mr. Wood.
Panel 3: Close up on the man on the right. His hazel brown eyes stare. His face hasn’t been shaven in the past few days. A light beard is forming.
Caption: Lewis Black.
Page 2:
Panel 1: The table with the chess set stands in the middle of the two men as they sit across from each other. Mr. Wood holds his partially smoked cigarette in his right hand and stares at Lewis. Lewis Black eyes the chess pieces, half heartedly looking at his next move.
Mr. Wood: So, it’s New Year’s Eve. Here we are again. You look good.
Lewis Black: Hardly.
Panel 2: The image is almost the same as panel one. Mr. Wood puts out his cigarette in the over flowing ashtray. Lewis Black’s head is raised from the chess board as his eyes contact Mr. Wood.
Lewis Black: Lovely night. A pity you’ve wasted your last five New Years on me.
Panel 3: Focus on the light side of the table. Mr. Wood pulls out his cigarette pack from his suit jacket pocket.
Mr. Wood: Pity? Not exactly what I think. I see this meeting as hope.
Panel 4: Lewis Black face. His eyes remain squarely on Mr. Wood. His facial expression remains stoic.
Panel 5: Focus back on Mr. Wood. His cigarette already lit and in his hand. Smoke obscuring his face.
Mr. Wood: You have less and less to say every year. I know I’m a fool for coming here again, but I remain convinced that you have a spark left. A piece of fire still growls in your belly. You were good and you still can be. Why reduce yourself to this. You live in filth and decay.
Lewis Black (OP): Don’t lecture me. I’m done with that life.
Mr. Wood: As much as you try to convince yourself of that, but it’s just a lie. A lie your tell yourself everyday. Yet as much as you try to hide yourself behind this so - called life, your guilt and sins will still remain.
Page 3:
Panel 1: The focus shifts to the window. The window is cracked and jaded, just like the rest of the apartment. A view of the outside can be seen. Light rain falls, lightning streaks across the skyline.
Lewis Black (OP): I figure there is still a chance for redemption. I broke away from that life for a reason. Too much loss and regret can wear a man down. I traded the glamour for urban sprawl. I’ll take that any day.
Panel 2: Mr. Wood’s hand as his put out his cigarette in the ashtray. He’s hand forcefully planting the bud.
Mr. Wood: Saint Lewis Black? The vices you’ve acquired in life will long outlive any virtues you’ve falsely obtained.
Panel 3: The window explodes into shards of glass. A single bullet racing through the air as rain continues to pour in the dark night.
Page 4:
Panel 1: We move out to see the room. The window shattered in the background. Pieces of glass scattered around the cracked wooden floor. Mr. Wood on the ground as blood gushes out of his abdomen. His chair knocked to the side. Lewis Black’s chair is pushed back as stands up in a panic. He’s face in shock and awe. The white shirt and jeans covered with drops of blood.
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Steven Marella
ExoKnight.
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Page 1:
Panel 1: The inside of a run down and dirty apartment. Darkness shadows the worn out twin bed in the corner. The boards on the floor are cracked. A cracked ceiling light brings some illumination. In the center of the panel are two men playing chess on a small table with filled up ashtrays and smoke swirling around. On the left side is an older man wearing a black suit with a lavender tie. His face is wrinkled and tired. His thinning white hair is pulled back into a pony tail. On the right is a man in his mid-thirties. He’s of average build, with short black hair, and wearing faded old jeans and a white tee-shirt.
Panel 2: Close up on the old man. (Face and shoulders.) Wrinkles reveal his age and light scars dot his face. A cigarette is neatly tucked in his mouth. Smoke obscuring the scene.
Caption: Mr. Wood.
Panel 3: Close up on the man on the right. His hazel brown eyes stare. His face hasn’t been shaven in the past few days. A light beard is forming.
Caption: Lewis Black.
Page 2:
Panel 1: The table with the chess set stands in the middle of the two men as they sit across from each other. Mr. Wood holds his partially smoked cigarette in his right hand and stares at Lewis. Lewis Black eyes the chess pieces, half heartedly looking at his next move.
Mr. Wood: So, it’s New Year’s Eve. Here we are again. You look good.
Lewis Black: Hardly.
Panel 2: The image is almost the same as panel one. Mr. Wood puts out his cigarette in the over flowing ashtray. Lewis Black’s head is raised from the chess board as his eyes contact Mr. Wood.
Lewis Black: Lovely night. A pity you’ve wasted your last five New Years on me.
Panel 3: Focus on the light side of the table. Mr. Wood pulls out his cigarette pack from his suit jacket pocket.
Mr. Wood: Pity? Not exactly what I think. I see this meeting as hope.
Panel 4: Lewis Black face. His eyes remain squarely on Mr. Wood. His facial expression remains stoic.
Panel 5: Focus back on Mr. Wood. His cigarette already lit and in his hand. Smoke obscuring his face.
Mr. Wood: You have less and less to say every year. I know I’m a fool for coming here again, but I remain convinced that you have a spark left. A piece of fire still growls in your belly. You were good and you still can be. Why reduce yourself to this. You live in filth and decay.
Lewis Black (OP): Don’t lecture me. I’m done with that life.
Mr. Wood: As much as you try to convince yourself of that, but it’s just a lie. A lie your tell yourself everyday. Yet as much as you try to hide yourself behind this so - called life, your guilt and sins will still remain.
Page 3:
Panel 1: The focus shifts to the window. The window is cracked and jaded, just like the rest of the apartment. A view of the outside can be seen. Light rain falls, lightning streaks across the skyline.
Lewis Black (OP): I figure there is still a chance for redemption. I broke away from that life for a reason. Too much loss and regret can wear a man down. I traded the glamour for urban sprawl. I’ll take that any day.
Panel 2: Mr. Wood’s hand as his put out his cigarette in the ashtray. He’s hand forcefully planting the bud.
Mr. Wood: Saint Lewis Black? The vices you’ve acquired in life will long outlive any virtues you’ve falsely obtained.
Panel 3: The window explodes into shards of glass. A single bullet racing through the air as rain continues to pour in the dark night.
Page 4:
Panel 1: We move out to see the room. The window shattered in the background. Pieces of glass scattered around the cracked wooden floor. Mr. Wood on the ground as blood gushes out of his abdomen. His chair knocked to the side. Lewis Black’s chair is pushed back as stands up in a panic. He’s face in shock and awe. The white shirt and jeans covered with drops of blood.
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Steven Marella
ExoKnight.