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chichi

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PostSubject: Short Stories   Sat Sep 17, 2011 8:47 pm

Anyone wanna start? I'm writing happy stories right now. But I think it's gonna end up with one of them dead.
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 5:50 am

I'll post my bio project when I finish, haha. Wanna hear the plot?

Ok, so, the project is that we have to write a 25 page story that compares parts of a cell to something.


At first glance, Rain seems like a normal teenage girl. ‘She’ has friends and family, goes to school and gets good grades, plays soccer and writes stories. But she doesn’t exist. Rain as people know her is actually a combination of seven other personalities, the seven hosts of the Cell System. All together, there are over one hundred people making up the girl known as Rain. And many of them are still loyal to her family… and the cult it’s been trapped in for centuries.

She was programmed by the cult, The Church of Scientology, to have her alters. Her system of alters is set up to mimic the organelles of a cell. Now, ‘Rain’ is being cued by her uncle to locate another cult member (though she is from the Illuminati) at her university and bring her to their cult. But this other girl, Sarah-Lee, escaped from the Illuminati years ago, and she wants to work with the fourteen fronters of Rain to help them do the same. To do so, they must together delve deep into the cell system of Rain’s mind…


I think the teacher's gonna be scared of me. Embaressed Smile
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 11:19 am

Really now ... "Scared of you" is a bit of an understatement.
I have no idea how to make my short stories for my portfolio interesting without turning them into a post-apocalyptic short story or another murder mystery ... Please help me? Smile
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 11:21 am

Well, she might be more scared FOR me... Amused

Why not make them dark??? I would~!
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 11:38 am

Martini should write a sci-fi Very Happy
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 11:39 am

Oooh, he should.

For WAREHOUSE 13.

Not the stupid evil show.
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 12:41 pm

Martini should right a sci-fi!!!!!
XP Wink
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 1:07 pm

Yes, he should. He should write Dr. Who right because it's very wrong right now.
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 4:01 pm

Agreed. cat cheers sunny
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 5:38 pm

Pretty sure I should do a scathing parody of Naruto. Twisted Evil
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 5:51 pm

You'd never be able to beat Naruto Abridged.
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 7:05 pm

"Naruto Abridged"? O.o Um ... okay.
Well we already have beaten it! XD
Stephen and I switched the voice actors. Smile
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Sep 18, 2011 7:38 pm

It's epic. XD

Nope. Abridged is better than that.
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Tue Sep 20, 2011 7:40 am

What is it? Is it on Youtube?
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Tue Sep 20, 2011 2:57 pm

It should be, yeap.
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Tue Sep 20, 2011 5:08 pm

But what is it? You never answered.
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Fri Sep 23, 2011 4:55 pm

I TOLD you, it's a Naruto parody. >.<
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sat Sep 24, 2011 7:52 am

It's hilarious lol!
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Mon Oct 03, 2011 6:16 pm

I have two story/poems! Katherine's seen them, and Martini's seen one, but I'm gonna post them anyways!




Happy Endings

Once Upon A Time, there was a beautiful princess in a land far, far away.


Far, far, in the land devoid of pain.

One day, her kingdom was attacked by dragons

Monsters are real, my dear. Keep your eyes opened. Always, always opened.

The princess, with hard work, tamed the dragons to be her pets, thus making her subjects safe again

Cage the monster, but who can stop it?

Every day, the dragons took the villagers into town, and townspeople into the villages. Everyone was kind to one another, and the kingdom was smitten.

It's the Oncoming Storm. Watch out, sweetheart. You know what happens next.

The dragons, however, were secretly plotting.


Evil liars, hate-filled cheaters.

One day, they revolted. They tore up the princesses kingdom, and killed all of her subjects.


Prince Charming, you say? No Prince Charming to save her. No Prince Charmings in real life, either.

They stole everything, and then they left.

And she was left with nothing. Nothing, dear. Do you know what nothing feels like?

Nothing is the void that's left after you lost.
Nothing is the black that's left after you left.
Nothing is empty. Nothing is hollow. Nothing is mindless and angry.
Insanity at it's finest.

You silly child. Did you think this was going to be a happy ending?

And the princess, ten years later, woke up from a coma. She looks around, surveys the damage. Not a petal was out of place. "All a nightmare!" she exclaimed with glee.

But it's never just a bad dream. Never like that, is it?
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Mon Oct 03, 2011 6:24 pm

You already know my opinion on this; amazing! Love
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Mon Oct 03, 2011 6:28 pm

Here's the other one!


Falling


January. Your eyes are hollow, your stare is steely, your face is pale as snow. You don't laugh at my jokes anymore. You hardly ever smile. You're still tough as ever, and you still make the greatest grades, but you know I can see. I can see your shell slowly crumbling. But it's not just a shell, is it? Because that's all you're made of, anymore. You're hollow. When your shell is gone, you are gone.

February. Euphoria, depression, euphoria, depression. The medicine makes me see pretty colors. My head burns, my heart hurts, or is the other way around? She's still watching me. Her eyes are the shiniest blue, her lips the most vibrant red. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. She whispers in my ear. It's coming... And she goes. Again. And again. He says it's normal. He told me she wouldn't hurt me. But I'm so scared...


March.
Jumpiness has replaced weariness. You flinch when I tap you on the shoulder. I stopped. You flinch when I call your name. I whispered. You flinched when the intercom buzzed. I'm sorry I can't do something to stop that. I'm sorry I can't be of more help. I'm so, so sorry.

April. It's getting warm outside. Warm means bugs, right? And bugs are scary. Bugs are gross. Bugs are hideous, bugs are repulsive, bugs aren't withstand-able, bugs will eat my brain and my insides and my hair and my hands and... Breathe, he said. His hands clasped me, a faint stabbing sensation came to my left arm, and I... fell... down...
..... down...



May. School's out. You have more color in your cheeks, but your eyes remain as lifeless as ever. You grin a sarcastic grin when you feel like it. When you say you feel like it. But you're so angry. I can feel the heat, the rage coming from you with every breath you breathe, when you breathe. You've become as thin as a twig. You're killing me right alongside, dear. You're killing me.

June. The water, the sun, all the disgusting barbeques, ice cream sandwiches. I won't touch it. I won't. It's dirty, someone else already touched it. He is dirty. She is dirty. That is dirty. I am dirty. Dirty dirty dirty. Wash my hands, take a bath, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch the disgusting-ness of everything off. OFF!!


July. You've been inching by for half a year. Each day turns into a century the moment I lay eyes on you. School's starting again, but I don't know if you'll be around that long. I have no faith in you. I wish I did. I wish so much that I did. But you're barely there. You're hanging on by your fingertips. Hanging on a thread of medication and pills, connected by scotch tape. Any moment. Any moment it's going to break...

August. [time]


September. [crawls]

October. [past]


November. Did you know that time doesn't ever stop? That I can't go back, I can't go forward, I can't reverse time to save you? It's been two months since you left. They say it was by natural causes. They said there was no accident. But they are liars. I know better. You know I know better. I could've done more. I should've. You were so peaceful in your casket, though. Now I'm the one fighting, but don't worry about me.

But wait. Were you ever haunted by a pair of deep blue eyes?

December. He was wrong, you know? He was wrong. He said he'd fix me. But she was right. Ticktock. Tick Tock. Tick. Tock. I've fallen into a timeless void. I see no pain, I feel no pain. Oh, I'm so happy. Aren't you happy for me? I'm so free now.



The purple is actually supposed to be indented, but BBCode doesn't like that, and I barely have it down for what to do in HTML... so... Yeah. Be confused at my weird writing!


Last edited by chichi on Wed Oct 05, 2011 1:48 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : TYPO!!! XD)
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Tue Oct 04, 2011 3:48 pm

* "You're hanging on a by ..." -> "You're hanging on by ..." Smile

Good job, on both! Yay, you took my suggestion. Smile
I don't get the dragons though ... why'd they pretend to be tamed?
Why didn't they just kill everyone off in the first place if they could?
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Wed Oct 05, 2011 1:47 pm

[dies] Thanks... stupid typos. >.<
Yes, you had a good suggestion.

To create trust and then crush everyone even more, duh! XD
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Nov 20, 2011 4:01 pm

Polumbus

He sits on the weathered floor, playing with the greasy strands of his long, unwashed hair. He tries to scrape some of the grime off of his blood stained skin, but he knows it's of no use.

Polumbus sits quietly, awaiting his turn into the arena.

He sits. He can hear the clash of sword against sword, the ring of metal against metal, and then finally the wail of pain when a sword hits bare flesh. The once dull roar of hundreds of spectators washing the bloodshed immediately stops. If he listens closely, he can hear his sponsors thumb gently stir the air as he points it to his neck, the signal for the loser's impending death.

He can hear the crowd screaming in ecstasy as a sword tears through the musty air, through flesh, through a beating heart.

The heart of a murderer.

Polumbus sits, running his strong hand over the cold, blood stained metal of his sword. He muses.

He was once a free man.

"But," he says to himself, "I am a free man no longer."

He hears heavy footsteps followed by quiet sobs. He sees his companion padding toward him, his helmet weighing heavily down on his skull.

Through echoed sobs and tears, his companion musters forth a few words. "Veras is dead!" He sobbed violently. "I killed him!"

Polumbus sits quietly, awaiting the next match.

He sits staring at the setting sun, watching it sink, inch by inch, below the horizon. Taunting him with its freedom, empathizing with his determined path.

Polumbus knew, he knew today might be his final day.

When the hour finally arrived, long after the blazing red of the sky above the setting sun gave way to the deep, murderous black of the dark night, he arose. His footsteps laden with lead as he plodded to the armory, grabbing his Murmillo helmet and an oblong shield, waiting in the corridor leading to the pit of death, freezing as he witnessed a corpse being carried in by more of his companions. He locked eyes with the leader, giving him a stiff nod and a final handshake. The terminality of this final match weighed heavily upon his soul.

The brightness of the moon stung his eyes as the doors opened, revealing him and his opponent.

Clad in partial steel armor was his opponent, the deadliest of all of the gladiators. The Thracian.

He raised his sword and took a long, stretched breath, savoring the night air like it would be his last breath.

The clash of swords, the clang of shields, the final scream as a sword slices through skin. The silence preceding the ultimatum, the decision. the The gentle breath of wind as the sponsor motions the final sentence, the final wail as the sword slices through skin, piercing the heart of the loser.

The gentle footsteps as the victor walks, his footsteps heavy with his deed.

The victor takes off his helmet, throwing it to the ground, falling to the floor with his soul in agony.

Polumbus sits quietly, awaiting the celebration.

========================
This was supposed to be a birthday present, but it's waaaaay too depressing :S so i thought since you guys like depressing stuff I would put it up here ^^
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PostSubject: Re: Short Stories   Sun Nov 20, 2011 4:05 pm

Apparently I never post the bo project... oops? XP

-

It was a normal day. A very normal, boring day. Lauren’s alarm clock went off at six thirty. Lauren got up and stumbled down for breakfast. Her mother smiled at her and prepared her cereal while Lauren checked over her math homework. Her father thumped downstairs to grab the paper while Lauren ate. She went upstairs to brush her teeth and dress and then grabbed her stuff and ran outside to catch the bus. It was a normal day. Such a normal day. But few people would agree the circumstances were normal if they truly knew what was happening within the household.
Lauren Slutsky did not exist. Lauren was registered as a first year student at her local college. At least ten students would claim Lauren was their friend. The state insisted that Lauren had won a writing contest through her short story centering around the prompt “Behind Closed Doors.” Lauren had a driver’s license and a birth certificate, but Lauren Eve Slutsky did not exist.
When the teachers said Lauren, they meant Bethany. When the friends said Lauren, they meant Katelyn. When the boys said Lauren, they meant Jewel. When the classmates said Lauren, they meant Shy One. When other LGBT students said Lauren, they meant Pride. When children said Lauren, they meant Little Susan. When people looking at her writing said Lauren, they meant Rain. When her family said Lauren, they weren’t picky. They would be fine with any of the alters that made up the Cell Wall of the Cellular System as long as said alter could act normal in front of company.
Lauren did not exist. Lauren had not existed since she had first split into different people when she had been two years old.
The condition was called DID: Dissociative Identity Disorder. Pedestrians knew it as Multiple Personality Disorder. Bethany had always liked MPD better. She was not just a dissociated part of Lauren, after all. She was her own person. She only wished she could show that to the outside world!
Bethany was one of the seven fronters for the Cellular System. Together, they formed the system’s cell wall. In an actual cell, the Cell Wall functions as a protective barrier and a supportive structure. It’s created by cellulose or another polysaccharide. In the Cellular System, the fronters formed the cell wall because they were the structure of the system. They were what the outside world saw as they interacted it in order to allow the others to hide. They prevented questions from being asked and only let in people who they were told to let close.
The Cellular System was, obviously, a DID system modeled after a cell. Each layer of the system represented a different organelle. This was not entirely unusual for a DID system, but it wasn’t something most children did on their own. DID, of course, is formed by severe trauma. Having such an organized system did not happen on its own…
Katelyn entered the campus with her friends. The girls were all laughing together, joking around happily. Behind the Cell Wall, the Plasma Membrane watched.

The Plasma Membrane is the cell part behind the Cell Membrane. Like the cell wall, it encloses the cell and provides a barrier between the cell and the world. It only allows in certain substances that will be helpful to the cell. Of course, unlike the Cell Wall, which doesn’t exist in animal cells, the Cell Membrane was vital to all cells. While some DID systems had no true fronters to act like the birth child, all systems have protectors to ensure the body’s safety. The protectors of the Cellular System acted as the phospholipid created lipid bilayer that formed the Plasma Membrane. They were the system’s first line of defense. They allowed nothing to hurt the body. More importantly, they, too, dodged questions. They were not to let slip any secrets on the family unit. If any outsiders were to ask, they would not be allowed to understand their mind.
Luckily for Katelyn, the Plasma Membrane Layer was very alert. One might even call them hyper-vigilant. Nothing was going to so much as annoy her on their watch. Behind the Cell Wall, from the cytoplasmic headspace, they watched all.
Cytoplasm is the blanket term for the Cytosol and all the organelles within it. Cytosol is mostly water with a few proteins in it. It controls cell metabolism processes as well as being the semi-liquid area where all the organelles resided. In the Cellular System, the Cytoplasm was simply the headspace. It was their inner world where they got things done and lived when they were not fronting. It was, of course, arranged like a cell.

The Plasma Membrane, facing outwards, knew only of each other. The Cell Wall knew of the Plasma Membrane, as they were living directly behind them, but they, too, faced outwards. They knew not of the complicated world inside of their own mind.
At the moment, much of the internal activity was being handled by the Rough Endoplasmic Reticulum. The Rough ER is the messenger system of the cell. It handles transporting the creations of the Ribosomes that rest on it. The Cellular System’s Rough ER had much the same job. They called themselves the Messengers of God as they were tasked with delivering the commands and cues of the internal programmers to the rest of the system. Like the Rough ER is created by sacs and tubules connected by one membrane, the Messengers of God all shared one internal connection that allowed them to speak directly to the other’s minds, regardless of their placement in the system. This allowed them to easily alert the Deltas of their cues and then help the Deltas work to take hold of the system.
The Deltas represented the Ribosomes of the cell. They had the complex job of taking the meaningless strings of numbers given to them and forming the appropriate command ordered by the internal programmers. It was like the Ribosomes production of proteins. Proteins are the building blocks of the cell. They are needed for almost every process. Similarly, the cues and triggers were needed to keep the Cellular System in check. If the cues were not obeyed, the family of origin would be alerted. That could result in the punishment or even death of the system. The Deltas job was very important, indeed.

Within the Cellular System, the seven Deltas worked in pairs of two, with the remaining one alter always with the Messengers of God, ready to obtain information. The pairs were compromised of a larger and smaller subunit, just like real Ribosomes. The subunits were simply more protein cues and triggers that had been activated to allow them to work. These were not alters that could think on their own. They simply obeyed commands.
The command had been given. The Cellular System was to find a girl, Sarah-Lee Ross. They were to talk to her. Befriend her, possibly. And most importantly, convince her to convert from her own small branch of Judaism to their church: The Church of Scientology.
The Rough ER saw this command and transferred it swiftly to the Golgi Apparatus. The Golgi were the Messengers of the System. They were not as high up as the Rough Endoplasmic Reticulum. They could not actually hear or process the commands. They could only be triggered to show the commands to the rest of the system in a way that they would understand. In cells, the Golgi packages and ships off proteins. It’s formed by membrane-bound vesicles called cisternae. The Messengers, while cisternae on their own, rarely had reason to be apart from each other, and typically went by their collective name. While a Golgi could have anywhere from five to sixty cisternae, the Messengers were strictly a group of seven. With seven of them working, they covered ground quite quickly.

Of course, as busy as the system was internally, the outside world, kept out by the Cell Wall, saw none of this. All they saw was Lauren asking around for an upperclassman named Sarah-Lee. Though the fronters didn’t couldn’t understand why, they suddenly found themselves looking for a girl named Sarah-Lee. She sounded nice.
It wasn’t until a week after their uncle had given the command that the system was able to locate Sarah-Lee. It was even longer until they earned the girl’s trust enough to discover why the family wanted to see Sarah-Lee. She was from the Illuminati. Without a doubt, she had valuable information and contained within her high level programming. Cracking her layers of resistance might prove difficult; her own demon protectors were programmed to destroy the system in response to the threat of leaking systems. But Lauren’s family unit was prepared to take that risk.
What they had failed to realize was that Sarah-Lee et al (et al is Latin for And All) had been blessed with a family capable of seeing the truth. She was no longer with the Illuminate because her family had moved as far as they could from the cult’s influence. They had been in hiding for years. Gradually, Sarah-Lee and her system had been able to deprogram themselves. They were currently studying psychology so they could do the same to others. It seemed Lauren would be their first subject.
Sarah-Lee et al, collectively known as the Magnet System, were not qualified to attempt deprogramming someone not even from the same cult as them. They had been studying long and hard, but it wasn’t enough. Unfortunately, they understood that most of the world did not even believe cults were anything other than a thing of myth, let alone that mind control was possible. The Cellular System was going to have to show them to the Cult of Scientology soon or else be severely punished. Time was running out. The Magnet System had no choice.
But if they were going to save their new friends, they would have to dive deep into the cell system of her mind to do so.
Making it past the Cell Wall was easy. The fronters liked them. They had been talking to them for weeks, and they trusted them to do what was best. They let them through without a problem. But the protectors… oh, the protectors. The Cell Membrane simply had pores too small for the silly Magnet System. Their sins were too big, and they simply could not fit through. Simply could not access the mind of those silly little organelles. But it was fine; the Magnet System simply broke through the resistance using a protein code disease of their own, forcing a transport protein to let them through (lest we all be killed hurt). And their sins grew by one, and they fit through even less pores, but why should they care? They were through.
Now, of course, this could not occur without consequence. Within moments, the Vacuoles had leapt into action. Vacuoles get rid of waste from the system, you know, be it through digestion or forcing them back out the way they came in. They’re made of the central vacuole, cell sap, and the very picky tonoplast, which knows exactly what to look for to transport out, so they’re very good at their job. But they’re also known for storing water in plant cells. In this Cellular System, they attacked as quickly as possible to destroy this toxic waste trying to worm its way into their mind, but they were destroyed quickly enough. They held, after all, the worst of the trauma memories (yellingandscreamingdaddydon’tdoitagainbutit’stoolatesoshutupandgotosleeplikeyou’renotabadgirllikehesaidyouare).

Unfortunately, Vacuoles also provide structure to plant cells. When they so much as shrink, the plant cell tends to undergo plasmolysis. Without the pressure of the Vacuoles pressing up against the cell wall, it becomes weak. With both the persecutory Vacuoles and the protective Cell Wall gone, the system was painfully venerable to attack.
But it was all fine, the Magnet System promised them. They would protect them.
Deeper and deeper and deeper into the mind they went.
Along the way, they ran into the Chloroplasts. These were the religious and scientific alters, for it was all the same to the system. These Chloroplasts provided energy to the cell. They attended religious services or scientific meetings and got spiritual and intellectual energy from turning polite discussion into religious and/or scientific debates. They were what gave the Cellular System it’s nice, religious, smart appearance. Normal chloroplasts turn sunlight into chemical energy, but humans can’t do that, silly. Chloroplasts can only turn sunlight into energy for plant cells. Besides, chloroplasts are made of the DNA containing stroma, the occasional stacked lamellae, and a bit of inter-membrane space, enclosed, of course, by a double membrane. The Cellular system had the base programs to substitute for DNA, but finding something to fake being stacks of hollow disks might have been a little bit difficult. So the Cellular System, based off of a cell or not, had no real chloroplasts and therefore couldn’t draw energy from the sun, just religion.

Those were slightly harder for the Magnet System to dodge. For one thing, the religious Chloroplasts were very stubborn. They knew that they were right when they argued religion. The more they argued, the more right they were. And they refused to step aside and let anyone else out around the Magnet System because they wanted to debate religion because it made them stronger!
Besides, religion was more than a little triggering for the Magnet System. In fact, the debates knocked a whole new layer of religious alters out of hiding. So for a whole week, the Magnet system had to go deal with them and make themselves better and by the time they came back, not only were the Chloroplasts as strong as ever, but the Cellular System had managed to rebuild its vacuoles. So that took another week to fix, and it was all very frustrating, as I’m sure you can imagine. But then the Magnet System went and found religious debates that proved why the Chloroplasts couldn’t argue for both religion and science and it contradicted what the Church of Scientology had told them so badly that for a while they just refused to believe it but finally they had to and it knocked them out of commission and so then everything was fine again.
This time, The Magnet System had a set path in mind. They demanded accesses to the Lysosome Layer. They knew, you see, that Lysosomes are the organelle designed to break down and digest cellular things that are not working as they should. They recycle cellular waste products, fats, carbohydrates, proteins, and other macromolecules before spitting them right back out into the cytoplasm to be used again for something else. Obviously, these were going to be the next protectors to try and kick them out of the mind, so they might as well take a good offensive approach.

But they were wrong. The Lysosomes are more common in animal cells than in plant cells, and this system mirrored a plant cell. So the Lysosomes were there, but they weren’t protectors. Actually, they were Memory Keepers. They broke down the traumatic memories from childhood and processed them, sending out the lessons learned to the rest of the system and giving the trauma to those who could handle it. After all, you don’t go around giving Ribosomes sunlight and expecting energy out of them. Only Chloroplasts make energy from sunlight. Likewise, you can’t give a Front alter trauma memories and expect them to do anything productive. Really, all they’re going to do is scream very loudly and possibly shatter and create a split of themselves that the Persecutors then have to go handle, which will frustrate everybody, especially when the Memory Keepers have to go take back the trauma memory again anyway.
Lysosomes are usually budded from the Golgi Apparatus. In the Cellular System, that made sense; the Messengers were bound to accumulate many traumatic things as they delivered the understandable triggers. Lysosomes have a membrane of their own, though this is actually for the reverse of the reason one might assume. It’s actually there to keep the things the Lysosome holds from leaking out and hurting the rest of the cell. For the Magnet system, this was a bit of a problem. The cell membranes were keeping them from being able to access the traumatic memories. How were they to help their friends if they didn’t even know what they were trying to heal them from?
But it was fine, because Lysosomes don’t do well in calm environments anyway. They need lots of acid to survive, you know, a pH of 4.8. The Cytosol of a cell is too neutral for them and tends to kill them pretty quickly if their cell membrane is damaged. The Lysosomes themselves survive by hydrogen ion pumps that keep their acid levels correct. The Memory Keepers had their flashbacks to keep them constantly aware in a dangerous climate, but the outside world of normalcy, they could not handle. They were nighttime alters. They surfaced to record only during cult activities. They refused to speak to the Magnet System, anyway.
So deeper still the Magnet System was forced to travel. Thankfully, with the next organelle layer, they were granted a much needed break. They ran into the Smooth Endoplasmic Reticulum, the detoxification organelle. Besides trying to save the livers of druggies, it’s also involved in the productions of lipids. Like the Rough Endoplasmic Reticulum, it’s formed of sacs, tubules and a membrane. But in the Cellular System, it was a vast nothingness made to store toxic things that were to never be seen. Occasionally, it would produce happy memories to keep the system having enough hope and will to continue on. But the happy memories were always false cover ups, lies to prove that they (werereallyatsummercamp,reallyatsummercampiswearhecouldn’thavedonethattomeiwasatsummercamp!) weren’t where the traumatic memories said they had been and so the traumatic memories were obviously not true. The happy memories, lies or not, were very convincing, and the Magnet System went deeper in relief that the Cellular System had had at least a few wonderful times in their childhood.

They passed right over the rough Endoplasmic Reticulum with little thought.
And here, the metaphor broke down a bit because they ran into the Centrosomes. Centrosomes are only found in animal cells, but I suppose that the original programmers, the outside programmers, didn’t know that much about cells, or maybe they just didn’t care. Either way, the Cellular System contained a layer of Centrosomes. Centrosomes are responsible for the microtubule production within a cell. They are created by two Centrioles, the fused groups of nine microtubules that make up the cell’s Cytoskeleton. They’re also invaluable during the splitting of a cell. The Centrioles replicate and the Centrosomes divide, leaving two identical pairs that move to opposite ends of the nucleus. They then create spindles from the microtubules that are responsible for splitting the old cell into two new cells.
Within the Cellular System, these Centriole alters were the alters that were completely blank. They simply floated around with no true job or anything to do until there was a job open. Then they would replicate and replace another alter. They could fill in for absolutely anyone. There was an infinite number of these Blank Slate alters. After all, if something were to happen and the system were to defect, they would be the ones to duplicate and replace said system.

Naturally, this caused a bit of panic. Even if the Cellular System managed to heal, wouldn’t the Blank Slates just make a new system to take over from the original? Was it possible that there was already another cell system hiding behind the first, just waiting to become active?
The Magnet System was beginning to feel more than a little out of their league. They were tired and constantly stressed. Their own protectors were begging them to just leave the Cellular System alone already. Didn’t they get that nothing good could come out of this? It was triggering new alters from their own system left and right. Everyone was becoming submerged in flashbacks of their own time of programming. Symptoms of fevers plagued the system, as the inner persecutors tried to force them to give in. But still, the brave Magnet fronters fought on.
This time, it took weeks of discussion and debate to convince the Centrosomes to stand down. But they did agree to allow the Magnet System to disarm alters as long as they promised to get the body safely away from the cult.
At this point, the Magnet System knew they had avoided it enough. Most of the outer system had been explored. Now, only the true masterminds behind the Cellular System remained. Both systems were becoming tired of this endless battle. Things had to progress more quickly. Time was running short.
The first major organelle to explore was the Cytoskeleton. It was, after all, the main support of the system. In a cell, the Cytoskeleton helps maintain the cell’s shape. It allows the cell to move organelles as well as moves the actual cell and allows muscle cells to contract correctly. For the Cellular System, the Cytoskeleton was the High Council. They kept the cell rigid through a series of complex rules. They kept the system moving and allowed it to change with their environment in order to survive. The High Council was made of three different subgroups: the Elders, the Littles, and the Adults. Each represented a different component of the Cytoskeleton.

The Cytoskeleton is formed by three things: Microtubules, Microfilaments, and Intermediates. The largest of those, the Microtubules, were represented in the system by the Elders of the High Council. They were the oldest alters in the Council. What they said held the most weight. Their decisions were usually what got implement upon the system. They had a very important job, as well. Besides sitting on the council, some of them were charged with guarding or even being part of the Core of Hope.

The smallest component of the Cytoskeleton is the Microfilaments. In the High Council, these were the Littles, otherwise known as the children. They were far younger than the Elders. Often times, they didn’t understand what was being discussed. Regardless, many of them split directly from the original child born to the body. They had a great deal of influence over the system for this reason.

The Intermediate Fibers are, as the name suggests, the middle length. They are shorter than Microtubules, longer than Microfilaments. These were, in the High Council, the Adults. They were not as wise as the Elders nor as powerful as the Littles. Still, the system respected them greatly for the amount of effort they expended on keeping it safe.

Microfilaments are formed by the protein known as actin. This filamentous actin forms a solid rod or chain, with one end being more polar than the other. Microtubules are formed from a substance known as tubulin. The alpha and beta tubulin binds to create heterodimers. These Microtubules are polar as well, as they have exposed alpha tubulin on one side, exposed beta tubulin on the other. Intermediate Fibers have five types and are more stable and durable than microtubules or microfilaments. They are formed from alpha helical rods.

The Intermediate Fibers were the first that the Magnet System experienced. There were three Adults in the High Council. One of them was cult aligned, willing to do anything to ensure that the cues were obeyed. One of them was a protector to the body, there to ensure that the mind survived at all costs. The final alter was more neutral, more open to logic than the other two. This seemed to be the only alter willing to listen to the Magnet System. After all, leaving the cult put the body in extreme danger if they were ever found again, and that was not something the protector wanted to risk. The other alter refused to betray the cult in any way shape or form. In fact, the Magnet System began to slowly realize, with a great deal of horror, that if they left this alter alone for even a minute, they would end up calling their uncle and reporting what had happened to their system.
The Magnet System forced the Cellular System to spend the night with them for the next few days. For that period of time, none of them left the house. The Magnet System refused to leave the Cellular System alone unless the Cell Wall and Membrane were the only layers fronting. They took down time to just relax and get to know each other better, of course, but in the end, much of the time was spent convincing the three Littles to side with them and try to get the Adults to give in. The Littles were far more emotional than their older counter parts. They had received no love or care from their family of origin. In fact, they had been abused by their family and its religious division for their entire lives. They absolutely refused to return.
The three Elders were less trusting. They demanded to know where they would go and how they would be able to hide from this massive organization. They might be just one person, but they were one person with information that the Church of Scientology would not appreciate becoming common knowledge. If they were found again, wouldn’t they be killed? How was that risk worth it? Aligning with the cult promised them safety. And it wasn’t like they could ever change anything, anyway. No one believed in cults. The government kept all stories of mind control quiet, in shame of its own experimentation with Project MKUltra. Even Dissociative Identity Disorder was met with skepticism. There was no one in the world they could turn to. It just wasn’t a safe boat to rock.
To be honest, they held a very valid point. If people really were escaping from such cults, they wouldn’t be such a myth to modern society. Even when people got away, it triggered internal programming beyond what the system could stop. These tripwires set off return to cult programs at best, suicide programs at worst. Screen memories hid true histories of horrible abuse behind movie tales of happy lives or even alien kidnapping. Words became scrambled when survivors tried to talk, thoughts almost nonexistent. Even if they did manage to become that rare person who could tell, that tiny percentage who got their story out, no one would ever believe them.
But remember, the Magnet System smiled, didn’t we ourselves do it?
We’re both survivors. Neither of us are going to go down without a fight. And we escaped from the cult, didn’t we? We’re alive and free. We’re no different from you. We just had our parent’s support. And now, you have our support. And who knows. Maybe, someday, another system will have yours.
Don’t underestimate yourselves. Yes, it will be hard. But you can do this. We have faith in you.
In all honesty, the Elders probably didn’t believe them. But they knew that beyond them lay the Nucleus. What the Nucleus wanted to happen there would happen, regardless of what the Council Members decided.
So they allowed the Magnet System to look deeper.
And immediately, the System ran into problems.
They were stopped by the Nuclear Envelope. This double-layered membrane is, on the outside, a continuation of the Rough Endoplasmic Reticulum. Like the Rough ER, it has Ribosomes attached to its surface. The outer membrane is fused to the inner membrane through tiny pores decorating its surface. These pores regulate what substances can pass through into the nucleus. The Nuclear Envelope is supported by Intermediate Filaments which form the nuclear lamina. The Nuclear Envelope’s job is to control traffic entering and exiting the Nucleus of the cell.

The Nuclear Envelope Layer was well known to cult survivors as Spinners. Spinners are alters programmed to send specific emotions into the system to encourage or discourage actions. Most often, confusion, fear, depression, and hopelessness are sent out to put a halt to therapy. They allowed no one to reach their Nucleus; the programmers. If someone was getting close to that source of power, they would send out intense depression into the system. Suicide was a very real risk when working with cult survivors for this exact reason.
In the end, it was back to the High Council. They needed help with locking up the Spinners in the Smoother Endoplasmic Reticulum until the timing was a bit better to deal with the emotions they threw out. It would make the system far too unstable. The Fronters would never be able to handle it.
Actually, the Magnet System was beginning to feel a bit guilty. For all of the deprogramming they were doing, they hadn’t done a single thing to help with the PTSD that was sure to have resulted from the trauma. In fact, they hadn’t even gotten the Fronters to see a single memory! They suspected that one of the more power alters of the Cellular System was pulling strings for them. Deprogramming usually took years, not months, and involved intense trauma work. Chances were high that the Cellular System would fall apart again as soon as they were away from the cult, but at least then they would be safer.
Whoever was helping them seemed to know this, as the High Council grudgingly accepted the proposal. With the Nuclear Envelope gone, the Magnet System progressed once again.
The Nucleolus was next. As everyone knows, the Nucleolus, formed from granular and fibrillar components as well as a matrix and DNA, creates the Ribosomes for the cell. This was, for the System, ten small alters combined into one loosely merged group. Their job was to create the blank alters that would be loyal to the cult. At the moment, with no need for new Ribosomes, passing them was no real challenge.

And then, they had accessed the Nucleus.
The Nucleus is the brain of the cell. It is essentially responsible for creating the cell. It creates the DNA that tells the cell what is needs to be and do in order to survive. This was the center of cellular activity. In the System, it could only mean one thing; the Internal Programmers.

These alters created the “DNA” of the system. In absence of outside programmers, they were the ones left to cue the system. Cues, triggers, and programs were all different terms for the same basic idea. They all meant the commanded imbedded by the programmer while the helpless victim was in a dissociative state. The cues triggered the programs to act. Many alters had been created solely to carry out certain programs. When most people say hypnosis, they mean stage hypnosis. But taking someone in a dissociate state, splitting their mind into different states just to hold certain commands and programs, and forcing beliefs and fear into them until they act on otherwise meaningless strings of numbers or words? That is true mind control.
DNA forms chromatin, as it’s known by when it’s unarranged, and chromosomes, which are its organized states. It only forms chromosome structures when the cell is about to split. The rest of the time, it just hangs around, the basic coding for the cell. Inactivated triggers are not dangerous. Only once cued do programs become deadly.


Finally, the Magnet System went to find the alters helping them to help their friends. It took a while of wandering around; the Mitochondria were very well hidden. But when they did find them, they were more than a little amazed.

Mitochondria are the power generators of the cell. They’re responsible for the cellular respiration that provides the energy for the cell. They convert oxygen and nutrients into ATP, which is needed for all metabolic activities. Different cells have different numbers of mitochondria, the number depending on how much energy they need to function. Mitochondria include two membranes, an intermembrane space, cristae, and a large internal matrix. They’re vital to the cell.
The Mitochondria were the Cores. The original children, the ones born to the body. Well, only one was born to the body, but she was dead. She had been evenly divided to form the fourteen Cores, each of whom was responsible for creating, maintaining, and controlling a different organelle layer of their system. Every single other alter in the system had formed from these cores. It sounded like they should be the Nucleus, but, as important as they were, it was no longer their life to control, and it had not been for a long time. It wouldn’t be until they were free from cult influence, free to live their own life for once. In the meantime, they were reduced to the Mitochondria job of providing energy for the system. They kept it stable and able to function and survive.
Awed but slightly confused, the Magnet System were left wondering who had assisted them, if not the Cores?
Life continued on. The Church of Scientology was becoming impatient. The Cellular System was not meant to be The Magnet System’s Handler. In fact, there were plans to separate them as soon as possible. They wanted to see results soon or both Systems would be in danger. Finally, the Cellular System was given a week to sort things out and bring in the Magnet System. Time was up.
Frustrated, the Magnet System again went to the High Council, this time demanding to know what had gone wrong. Without knowing who had such power over the system, there was no way to progress. They needed this person on their side before they could finally get the Cellular System out of there. They had been preparing for the move for months. Every little detail was planned. By now, even the flight was booked. The Cellular System would be moving across the states without a trace; the Magnet system would simply transfer out of state, as the Church of Scientology knew less about them to be able to find them. But without knowing who could force the Cellular System to take this final step, nothing could be done.
And the final piece of the puzzle revealed itself.
It was the Flagella. Flagella are made of nine filaments. These filaments include one microtubule, a partial microtubule, and dynein cross bridges. They also have a pair of single microtubules through their center. Then the entire thing has a membrane to contain it.

Flagella allow single cell organisms to move through their environment. For cells anchored in tissue, they help move liquid over its surface.
What inspires people to move forward more than anything else? What stops people from being stuck in the past? What keeps them going forwards?
The final piece of the puzzle was the Core of Hope.
All the joy and love and spirit of the original child was within this alter. All the will and determination radiated from it, allowing the system to continue on. Allowing them to live.
-
Five years later, Those Interrupted, another cult produced system with 13 layers of 13 alters, were aided in the escape of their grandfather’s religious cult by their therapist. According to Those Interrupted, who went on to become a well known author and therapist themselves, their therapist saved their life. They will always be grateful to The Cellular System.
Written by: Rage of “Those Interrupted”
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