Emph
Member
Ok new game...
This is the thread in which we tell a story with our own stories. You know that game where someone writes a sentence then you write one and pass it on etc etc.
Few rules
1) You may only use sentences from your major work; but to make this open to everybody, I shall allow you to change tenses and narrative stance i.e. second to first person, future to present tense etc.
2) Try and make sure it makes sense. You are good at english; use sentences that would logically follow
3) One line per person at any one time
4) Only post your sentences. Avoid random comments please.
Here is our 'story' so far (Every few days I will update this)
_________________________
Often I’m angry. But I never was a brave man; only running at the sight of danger. But since just yesterday, everything has changed. One could wonder, if my attempts to help are what’s pushing her away? - then it could be possible that what everyone else said about her was true. She says that being around others confuses her.
Then I remembered the day I first met her, the way she looked. Cheery, cool, chatty, cute... I think that's when I lay down on the kitchen floor and let my pounding heart teeter on the edge. "Writers can't grow old!" I screamed out. The mirrors shattered. I could hear a chorus of screams similar to a pair of catfish whiskers.
The world continued on as best as it could between the darkness and the light.
I had this feeling though that soon my works would reside only in shadowy corners of desolate bookstores and fade into the dark recesses of the simple human mind. Nothing was going right - I was slowly sinking into a kind of wretchedness that frightens all that possess but an inch of contentment.
Once again, the memory of her burned into my head as I feebly reached for the pen. I wanted to believe that I would return to her. Why though, was there a sense of doubt overwhelming me? I long to ask what she thinks about, but at the same time I consider the expression on her face and though it is selfish of me, something deep inside hesitates and I don’t want to share her pain.
And now only one thought remains in my head, autonomous and oblivious of any other concerns; why waste the time? I have to get on with my life. The constant reminder of the impossibility to overlook, is my only obstacle in this fortress that is my life.
Struck with AIDS, the body sickens. Little flecks of blood froze into cherry ice crystals and punch holes in the floor as they travel from room to room. I felt like nothing else mattered. Amidst all the chaos around me, the world became a frightening kaleidoscope of many shade of grey.
With every moment lost another moment was just around the corner. My groping fingers find the only thing that gives me solace, the whiskey bottle and started to take a sip. A few moments later a man walks up to me and says "You smell it. You see it. You feel it. But don't you drink it!". Surprised I was, and burst out laughing. The man takes the bottle from me, and it crashes to the ground. The bottle smashed into several pieces and a piece of glass richoched of the ground and scratched my left leg.Suddenly my body was thrashing as if a thousand volts were coursing through my veins. Then I realized the man was taking me, "BACK OFF!" I said. He continued and then suddenly I went limp and my mind left. I awoke and heard a riveting beat; ‘I never tilt against Beauty,’ A horrible metallic taste – so much like blood – filled my mouth as I fought to ignore the words of the Voice.
I slowly lifted my eyelids, there was a bright faze. I am dying. Fading fast, too much blood lost - I couldn’t stop it, and she was whispering, whispering away, her words too fast to hear. I have lost control.
Out of the shadows MC Hammer rose from his musical grave, "Can't touch this!" he yelped. He is going to punish me; I have been a bad boy. "What's the time?" he demanded.
She answered with actions instead of words, her eyes were alight with fervour as she lit a match, bringing it to the wick of a nearby candle. As the light filled the room, the corpse of Flava Flav along with his oversized timepiece was discovered.
“HEY SHUT THE HELL UP IN THERE! I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK!” MC Hammer yelled into his own ear with a large curly loudhailer.
I knew it. They were weird. And not just weird - they were crazy. "My bicycles, they baffle me."
This is the thread in which we tell a story with our own stories. You know that game where someone writes a sentence then you write one and pass it on etc etc.
Few rules
1) You may only use sentences from your major work; but to make this open to everybody, I shall allow you to change tenses and narrative stance i.e. second to first person, future to present tense etc.
2) Try and make sure it makes sense. You are good at english; use sentences that would logically follow
3) One line per person at any one time
4) Only post your sentences. Avoid random comments please.
Here is our 'story' so far (Every few days I will update this)
_________________________
Often I’m angry. But I never was a brave man; only running at the sight of danger. But since just yesterday, everything has changed. One could wonder, if my attempts to help are what’s pushing her away? - then it could be possible that what everyone else said about her was true. She says that being around others confuses her.
Then I remembered the day I first met her, the way she looked. Cheery, cool, chatty, cute... I think that's when I lay down on the kitchen floor and let my pounding heart teeter on the edge. "Writers can't grow old!" I screamed out. The mirrors shattered. I could hear a chorus of screams similar to a pair of catfish whiskers.
The world continued on as best as it could between the darkness and the light.
I had this feeling though that soon my works would reside only in shadowy corners of desolate bookstores and fade into the dark recesses of the simple human mind. Nothing was going right - I was slowly sinking into a kind of wretchedness that frightens all that possess but an inch of contentment.
Once again, the memory of her burned into my head as I feebly reached for the pen. I wanted to believe that I would return to her. Why though, was there a sense of doubt overwhelming me? I long to ask what she thinks about, but at the same time I consider the expression on her face and though it is selfish of me, something deep inside hesitates and I don’t want to share her pain.
And now only one thought remains in my head, autonomous and oblivious of any other concerns; why waste the time? I have to get on with my life. The constant reminder of the impossibility to overlook, is my only obstacle in this fortress that is my life.
Struck with AIDS, the body sickens. Little flecks of blood froze into cherry ice crystals and punch holes in the floor as they travel from room to room. I felt like nothing else mattered. Amidst all the chaos around me, the world became a frightening kaleidoscope of many shade of grey.
With every moment lost another moment was just around the corner. My groping fingers find the only thing that gives me solace, the whiskey bottle and started to take a sip. A few moments later a man walks up to me and says "You smell it. You see it. You feel it. But don't you drink it!". Surprised I was, and burst out laughing. The man takes the bottle from me, and it crashes to the ground. The bottle smashed into several pieces and a piece of glass richoched of the ground and scratched my left leg.Suddenly my body was thrashing as if a thousand volts were coursing through my veins. Then I realized the man was taking me, "BACK OFF!" I said. He continued and then suddenly I went limp and my mind left. I awoke and heard a riveting beat; ‘I never tilt against Beauty,’ A horrible metallic taste – so much like blood – filled my mouth as I fought to ignore the words of the Voice.
I slowly lifted my eyelids, there was a bright faze. I am dying. Fading fast, too much blood lost - I couldn’t stop it, and she was whispering, whispering away, her words too fast to hear. I have lost control.
Out of the shadows MC Hammer rose from his musical grave, "Can't touch this!" he yelped. He is going to punish me; I have been a bad boy. "What's the time?" he demanded.
She answered with actions instead of words, her eyes were alight with fervour as she lit a match, bringing it to the wick of a nearby candle. As the light filled the room, the corpse of Flava Flav along with his oversized timepiece was discovered.
“HEY SHUT THE HELL UP IN THERE! I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK!” MC Hammer yelled into his own ear with a large curly loudhailer.
I knew it. They were weird. And not just weird - they were crazy. "My bicycles, they baffle me."
Last edited:
.
