Gabe Krawec

Canada

My name is an anagram for "Beware Gack", so if my writing starts to heavily feature Gack, please send help. If I write about a "rag week back", it's too far gone. There's no hope. Good luck finding my inheritance, much less keeping it.

Message from Writer

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Published Work

I'm a Maker, Dale Dougherty. Where's my Makerspace? I need a Makerspace, Dale.

Hand me my fidget spinner I'm about to start a revolution
on this bone-dry-drive-by institution
I expel food and I eat stool
we bout to do a cannonball right into this carpool
inbred teacher tryna teach me bout equations yo
while I'm tryna dissect on this cetacean embryo
boy's out lookin for some trill garms
poison in the wells and salt in the fields of the farms
I'm an illegal immigrant in my own lands
bible belt christians always tryna throw hands
It's a scam man
Santa man I love you but we bout to throw you out, see
Too many Baptists sitting on your lap, B.
Met a cute girl said she was a pathetic liar
Negged that girl so hard that I think I set her house on fire 
when I bring the pain you can bet it'll be terminal 
hungry like garfield, cute like nermal 
I go thermal 
woah
I'm just a monkey finna searching for a...

Ten Words to You

Winnipeg, Manitoba

Antarctica with more car collisions and less respect for science.

Novel Writing Competition 2017

The Dream Lottery

The soldiers of The Waking Eye had a uniform that could make the meekest man look like a warlord. Bulky enough to show muscle where there wasn’t, but sleek enough to make them seem impossible to outrun. Coupled with a mask and dark sheets of interlocking metal covering the body; age, gender, race—humanity, was hidden. But the worst part was the voice. They spoke through some kind of radio that made their voices all sound the same. A low, crackling monotone that made every word they said sound like it came from a script. Alex stood before a towering officer in the middle of a storm, fiddling with his ticket, trying not to look into the piercing white lights where the officer’s eyes should be. The ticket was a fake. A convincing one, but still a fake, and his nerves were getting the best of him.
“What is your first name.”
“Alex.”
“What is your surname.”
“I have no surname....

Why I Write

Why on Earth goes Gabe write? What is he doing??

You want to know why I, Gabriel H. Krawec write? You want to know what compels me to slap those keys and slather those pages in inky little shapes?

I don't think you're ready.

I don't think you can handle it.

---------ARE-YOU-SURE-?-------------  <------ Tough guys only past this point

Alright. Are you sure? You're a tough guy? (That is of course, a gender neutral term, but you're a tough guy, you know that)

It would seem that one day I was off seeking my fortune, just generally minding my own business when this elderly gentleman is upon me like a rat on a janitor. He says 

"Boy!"

And I just kept walking because I was seeking my fortune and if that was my fortune I was gonna go find a new fortune. But this guy's hard to lose. Guy can bob and weave with the best of 'em. I quicken my pace, he quickens his. And he's just going off: 
...

BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN THE ABSOLUTE LEGEND

BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN, DUDE. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW, BUT I'M ABOUT TO TELL YOU THE ABSOLUTELY TRUE STORY ABOUT BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN SO YOU CAN UNDERSTAND THIS ABSOLUTE MADMAN, BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN

THE BLACK DOG

THE EAGLE OF BRITTANY 

SO ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS THIS LADY NAMED JEANNE DE MALMAINES, AND SHE IS LIKE, GORGEOUS. I'M TALKING REALLY BEAUTIFUL. LIKE, EVEN THOUGH STANDARDS WERE LOWER BACK THEN YOU COULD SEE HER TODAY, AND REGARDLESS OF YOUR SEXUAL ORIENTATION YOU'D BE LIKE "DAMN".

SO SHE GETS MARRIED TO ROBERT DU GUESCLIN MAINLY BECAUSE HE'S LOADED, BUT HE'S ALSO A PRETTY HANDSOME BOY (PROBABLY), BUT IN 1320 THEIR BABY BERTRAND  IS BORN, AND HE'S JUST BUTT-UGLY. AND YOU KNOW HOW CUTE BABIES ARE, BUT THIS IS HORRIBLE. JUST A LITTLE FLESHY GOBLIN OF A CHILD.

SO BECAUSE JEANNE DE MALMAINES IS SO HOT SHE KIND OF HAS A MELTDOWN AND LORD KNOWS ROBERT'S BUSY DOING WHATEVER HE DOES, SO NO ONE...

Flash Fiction Competition 2017

That Time The Scientist Really Messed Up.

The power came back on.
The scientist looked relieved. Then his eyes widened. 
"Nobody speak!"
"What?!" exclaimed Andrew.
The scientist made an angry shushing noise.
"15 words max." he said.
"What happened?" mumbled Stacy, dusting herself off.
"Do you really think I can explain that in under--" He disappeared. Like he was never there.
"Oh. 15 words total." said Andrew.
"What will we do?" said Stacy.
Andrew paused. "I'vegotitifIjustdon'tendtheword--" He disappeared.
There was a knock on the door.
"I've got a package for-"
"No! you can't-"
"Could you sign-"
"No! Don't speak! fifteen words or--"

Then it all ended.
 

Your World in Three Senses

My World in About 20 Senses

Us humans are pretty great. Sure, we get carried away from time to time, but altogether our design is great for earth. You know what's not great for earth? Not being able to notice anything happen, so because we're so great we've got hella senses.

I mean you've got your basics, lenses in your face for the light to go in, holes in your head for the sound to go in, more holes in your head for little pieces of stuff to get stuck in and tell your brain all about itself, stuff all over your skin so you can tell where stuff is and isn't, a fleshy mouth-tentacle that tells you if stuff is edible, it's all fine and dandy, but there's so much more.

If us humans only had five senses we'd be so extinct! Which is why I'm going to honor the human body and describe my lovely room in 20 of our senses. Let's go!
 

    ...

Living in Music

The Lone Seeker

I live in a dying world.

Perhaps once it was another world, perhaps once there was a chance for things to turn out some other way, but now this world is dying. Strangled by the garment it sewed itself, poisoned by what should have been an elixir of life. The days and nights that wind together but death throes.

I wished more of us would understand that, as I crouched over the body, clutching his only possession of value, a locket, containing a dusty picture of a young woman. She was beautiful, but I knew there was no point in coveting what I could never have.

I stood, and surveyed the cotton field around me. It was all the same. Exactly like this, as far as I could see. Not just the same field, but the same exact plant, billions of copies over millions of miles. Occasionally, I would come across a settlement, but I never lingered. Not only were...

Zoom Out

Forward

"Forward." thought Erik. It was all he could afford to think of, not his every joint crying out for mercy, not the sweat that stuck his hair to his face and stung his eyes. 

Forward. As the blades cut a swath in front of him, all he could do was move forward.

Forward. He couldn't afford to think of anyone's family, friends, anyone's life, much less his own, as his grip became sweaty and every fiber of his being demanded he stop. He had made his decisions up to now, the only thing Erik could do was push forward.

Forward. Though the roar that surrounded him was deafening, his purpose was simple. Forward, as the blades cut a path, leveling the field. Until he could afford to think, until this was all over.


Erik's dad told him he needed to be less dramatic about mowing the lawn.

Your Voice: Climate Change

Why Climate Change Doesn't Exist

June 10th,  2017
Science-y types are always going on about how hot the earth is getting and how the climate's changing and there's empirical evidence to prove it, but I'm pretty sure we don't belong the the empire anymore, so I'm gonna keep this journal to show everyone what a load of hooey this climate "change" is.

June 11th, 2017
Still no fires or extinct animals or plagues of frogs or whatever the hell. Plus my air conditioner kept me a little bit chilly. Say, why don't those science geeks just build a big one of those if they're so worried?

February 21st, 2018
Still hella cold. I drilled through the ice to see if it was boiling underneath or something and it was hella cold too! In fact, it was bristling with life! That water was thick with algae!

July 15th, 2018
Went fishing today and caught nothing. Definitely has nothing to do with global warming though. They're probably just...

Write the World's Terms of Service Simplified

Because I have nothing to do, and paraphrasing is borderline a hobby of mine, I decided to try and simplify the terms of service for this website. Useful if you're like me and have to force yourself to read anything above like, a grade 3 level. Plus, as someone who got my writing removed, it feels like karma. 

A. ACCEPTANCE OF TERMS
By accepting the following, you accept the following. For realzies. Seriously. these are the rules, and you're about to accept them.
B. WEBSITE
This is a website. This is our website. This covers our website.

C. USER ROLES, SUBMISSIONS AND CONDUCT
1. User Roles . you can be a young writer or an educator. A young writer is a writer who is young (13-18) and is in some sort of education system (including a home school). An educator is an adult, but not just any adult. They need to be a teacher or something.
2. Young Writers ....

Every Fantasy Novel Finale Ever.

Velathor was thrown to the ground with a thud. Picking himself up from the rugged stone of the mountaintop, he grabbed his sword and made another charge at the dragon. 

The Monster turned its narrow yellow eyes to him, its red scales shimmering in the fading light of the evening. Velathor struck a palpable hit on the dragon's underbelly, before being thrown back once more by the beast's spiny tail. A gash opened on his forehead, but he scarcely noticed, this battle had left him bloodied already. Gathering his strength, he reached for his sword once more, but it was nowhere to be found in the chaos around him. Finally, he caught sight of it, still lodged in the dragon, like a dagger in a cow, but larger. And a more reptilian cow. 
"Lost something, luv?" 
He whipped around to see his last remaining companion, the charming, cockney-accented sorceress Calaliastra hovering over him. With a chuckle and a swish...

Every Fantasy Novel Finale Ever.

Velathor was thrown to the ground with a thud. Picking himself up from the rugged stone of the mountaintop, he grabbed his sword and made another charge at the dragon. 

The Monster turned its narrow yellow eyes to him, its red scales shimmering in the fading light of the evening. Velathor struck a palpable hit on the dragon's underbelly, before being thrown back once more by the beast's spiny tail. A gash opened on his forehead, but he scarcely noticed, this battle had left him bloodied already. Gathering his strength, he reached for his sword once more, but it was nowhere to be found in the chaos around him. Finally, he caught sight of it, still lodged in the dragon, like a dagger in a cow, but larger. And a more reptilian cow. 
"Lost something, luv?" 
He whipped around to see his last remaining companion, the charming, cockney-accented sorceress Calaliastra hovering over him. With a chuckle and a swish...

Timeless Counsel

The 92 Rules to Not Getting Your Writing Unpublished

I can't make assumptions regarding the quality of your life, I can only hope you enjoy!

  1. Never buy a VCR from a man with green eyes.
  2. There is no such thing as "too much".
  3. keep your friends close, and your enemies at bay with a toothbrush covered in love, because everyone deserves love.
  4. Cash money ain't nothing funny.
  5. Never overestimate the power of a party planner.
  6. If you say it's a prank, you can be arrested. Despite what our cynical society says, no one is above the law.
  7. Listen to the loudest voice in your head, that's your imagination, and it will get you far. However, if you hear real voices in your head, it can be a scary and tough experience that your friends, loved ones and professionals will help you through.
  8. Always know how many Bob Barker clones you could take in a hugging competition.
  9. Dolphins are beautiful, intelligent creatures who baffle scientists every day with their intelligence and...

Geography of Home

My Most Unsettling Room

The story of my favorite room is a bit terrifying. Well, maybe not terrifying, but on the really-not-okay side of disturbing, even more so because it's not about me, so I'm going to embellish it with all the details I want. 

So my buddy Oliver's got this new house, a really old place, from back when it seemed like house-building was something you just kind of made up as you went along. Tons of rooms, narrow hallways, creaky staircases, tall, ominous windows, this is the kind of house that is only okay to live in if you're from the 1800s, you are an actual ghost, or apparently you're my buddy Oliver. The fact that his house looks like it just generates James Wan films on its own didn't frighten him for some reason, but at least he was happy. 

So maybe 4 months after moving in, Oliver's telling me that he was just wandering around the perimeter of his house,...