The Writers Challenge....
- Thread starter Agent@5
- Start date
Aya shook the hallucinations out of her head. Why was she getting the impressions of perverse internet people in her head?
Oh well.
She heard a child's screams off in the distance. She wondered....should she pursue her target, or try to help the child?
The choice took a split second. She ran in the direction of the screaming.
She found herself face to face with the man she had been pursuing.
Oh well.
She heard a child's screams off in the distance. She wondered....should she pursue her target, or try to help the child?
The choice took a split second. She ran in the direction of the screaming.
She found herself face to face with the man she had been pursuing.
Agent your tripping
....He looks into her eyes, he sees nothing but hate. She is ice, she raises her rifle. He can't free his own as he holds the child in his arm. He knows that wont save him, she will rather kill the child than let him escape her again. Just then bullets fly by his head aimed at her. She is momentaraly distracted, but thats all he needs to reach the tunnel. As the doors slam closed on the tunnel the rebels use as a base, he breaths a sigh of relif. He did it, he captured the girl. He looks down at her, her eyes are hostile and she struggles in his arms. He feels her nails dig into his arm and bites his lip to numb the pain. He is realived of his burden by 2 guards. He alows himself to be lead away to the infirmary to be treated before he goes out again, back to the war that is the world above....
....He looks into her eyes, he sees nothing but hate. She is ice, she raises her rifle. He can't free his own as he holds the child in his arm. He knows that wont save him, she will rather kill the child than let him escape her again. Just then bullets fly by his head aimed at her. She is momentaraly distracted, but thats all he needs to reach the tunnel. As the doors slam closed on the tunnel the rebels use as a base, he breaths a sigh of relif. He did it, he captured the girl. He looks down at her, her eyes are hostile and she struggles in his arms. He feels her nails dig into his arm and bites his lip to numb the pain. He is realived of his burden by 2 guards. He alows himself to be lead away to the infirmary to be treated before he goes out again, back to the war that is the world above....
meanwhile, Sedinia, a princess of the world that lay beneath, was frantecly looking for comuncation with the two warriors she had sent to find the man who had detroyed the barrior that lead to the ugly world above them. HE had been sent as the representative of the refugees who were looking for haven from the brutal war. The world above was not to know about the serinity that was below them , for under dweller feared it would consequence in their world becoming the samr war ridden place.
But the man had the msg that it existed, and was about to invite the terror to this placed called...
But the man had the msg that it existed, and was about to invite the terror to this placed called...
Damn the Universe its perverse insistence that his life should be little more than descriptive narrative!
"Damn you, evil Cosmos."
"Perhaps, were I to smoke these experienced Loom de Fruits," he pondered, "should I find truer meaning than Nature seems has granted me automatically."
He realized just then that he was venturing forth into the mysterious province of the auto-didactic.
"Well, ya can learn something new every day," he said to himself in particular.
Whereupon he...
"Damn you, evil Cosmos."
"Perhaps, were I to smoke these experienced Loom de Fruits," he pondered, "should I find truer meaning than Nature seems has granted me automatically."
He realized just then that he was venturing forth into the mysterious province of the auto-didactic.
"Well, ya can learn something new every day," he said to himself in particular.
Whereupon he...
they're coming.
more of them, mercenaries from omega clan. his buddy spits out two more caps from his colt .38 snagging one twice in the chest. he falls like a sack of potatoes.
three more leap out of the grassy savannah, they're coming in hordes now. "damn oxies, fucking drug money pays well for good mercenaries in this quadrant," his buddy muses, emptying the last magazine of a semi-automatic into a lance of leather-skinned mercs on his left flank. he drops the rifle, and reaches for his magnum. gone. he reaches behind his head for his auxiliary sabre. empty air. he opens his inside jacket pocket for his hunting knife. missing. now fiddling with his shin-knife in desperation, he starts running backwards, as a paralyzing fear grips pierces his heart, chokes his sanity, and floods his eyelids with the tears of a coward facing death.
the man with the child closes his eyes, shielding the little girl from the impending slaughter of his buddy. he picks her up and stumbles into a nearby electrical hub, just as several shots ring out and the an agonizing scream slices his eardrums.
still running, he clutches the child, tears washing her windswept hair. a rebellious brat no more, she clutches her savior in childish fright. "protect me," her little arms say in a rough hug around his neck. he squeezes her little frame against his own. "i will, dont worry little one," he replies.
more of them, mercenaries from omega clan. his buddy spits out two more caps from his colt .38 snagging one twice in the chest. he falls like a sack of potatoes.
three more leap out of the grassy savannah, they're coming in hordes now. "damn oxies, fucking drug money pays well for good mercenaries in this quadrant," his buddy muses, emptying the last magazine of a semi-automatic into a lance of leather-skinned mercs on his left flank. he drops the rifle, and reaches for his magnum. gone. he reaches behind his head for his auxiliary sabre. empty air. he opens his inside jacket pocket for his hunting knife. missing. now fiddling with his shin-knife in desperation, he starts running backwards, as a paralyzing fear grips pierces his heart, chokes his sanity, and floods his eyelids with the tears of a coward facing death.
the man with the child closes his eyes, shielding the little girl from the impending slaughter of his buddy. he picks her up and stumbles into a nearby electrical hub, just as several shots ring out and the an agonizing scream slices his eardrums.
still running, he clutches the child, tears washing her windswept hair. a rebellious brat no more, she clutches her savior in childish fright. "protect me," her little arms say in a rough hug around his neck. he squeezes her little frame against his own. "i will, dont worry little one," he replies.
yes, thats what happens when multiple people read one post, and reply to that same post at the same time, and dont realize it until fifteen different random offshoots of one linear story fuck up the entire thread.
oh, well. i guess we must accept the acid trip.
he put the little piece of paper-like material on his tongue. it all appeared before him now, so lucid, clear, and logical. the hot reincarnated girl, the guys in the bunker, the evil four year old chuckie.
"you fucking fiends," he cried in wretched desperation. "i will heed your calls no more!"
with that he relaxed into a fitful little acid slideshow, the book "Self diagnosis and therapy for schizophrenics" catching his lacy drool.
oh, well. i guess we must accept the acid trip.
he put the little piece of paper-like material on his tongue. it all appeared before him now, so lucid, clear, and logical. the hot reincarnated girl, the guys in the bunker, the evil four year old chuckie.
"you fucking fiends," he cried in wretched desperation. "i will heed your calls no more!"
with that he relaxed into a fitful little acid slideshow, the book "Self diagnosis and therapy for schizophrenics" catching his lacy drool.
.....He opens his eyes after the dream. He is in the infirmary with his friend standing next to him. He looks up at him and his friend tells him what they learned from the child, the very info that SHE was sent to stop the rebelion from gaining, is now in there hands. The man knows all this does is put them in more danger because now NOTHING will stop HER and her-kind from destroying them, but it also gives him hope. Now they may have a chance. His leader is sending him and his partner out again. He is sore and weary but he understands why they have been chosen, after all there the best he's got. Their goal now is the factory that made HER and is her-kinds home base. They are to scout it out and hopefully prepare to destroy it. He goes to the armory to prepare for his mission....
I hate to say this, but I think that the thread has degenerated. I may start another one when I have time (have to be tortured by mister orthodontist) but for now could just one of you check out Stryderunkown's Open Book Project. Come on, it is and was awsome!
Writers Challenge, right?
A free-form, everyone-is-invited, improvizational writing thread is not intended to maintain a specific thematic rigidity, as evidenced by this story preface: "I willl write a paragraph and each new post will go on with the story, adding your unique touch to the story."
The challenge to writers contributing to such a thread should not be to have to perpetuate painful verbosity and cardboard characters. The challenge should be to react to "unique"--yes, even droll--contributions. The challenge should be to create spoken imagery and characters with whom you can personally indentify.
The story line itself is the minor purpose of such a literary activity. The true purpose is the practice of writing.
So, write. Improvise. And don't get your panties in a bind when invitees contribute the unexpected in response to a challenge, and offer one back..
A free-form, everyone-is-invited, improvizational writing thread is not intended to maintain a specific thematic rigidity, as evidenced by this story preface: "I willl write a paragraph and each new post will go on with the story, adding your unique touch to the story."
The challenge to writers contributing to such a thread should not be to have to perpetuate painful verbosity and cardboard characters. The challenge should be to react to "unique"--yes, even droll--contributions. The challenge should be to create spoken imagery and characters with whom you can personally indentify.
The story line itself is the minor purpose of such a literary activity. The true purpose is the practice of writing.
So, write. Improvise. And don't get your panties in a bind when invitees contribute the unexpected in response to a challenge, and offer one back.
.
Last edited:
Originally posted by Mr. G
Writers Challenge, right?
A free-form, everyone-is-invited, improvizational writing thread is not intended to maintain a specific thematic rigidity, as evidenced by this story preface: "I willl write a paragraph and each new post will go on with the story, adding your unique touch to the story."
even droll--contributions. The challenge should be to create spoken imagery and characters with whom you can personally
The challenge to writers contributing to such a thread should not be to have to perpetuate painful verbosity and cardboard characters. The challenge should be to react to "unique"--yes, indentify.
The story line itself is the minor purpose of such a literary activity. The true purpose is the practice of writing.
So, write. Improvise. And don't get your panties in a bind when invitees contribute the unexpected in response to a challenge, and offer one back.
theres always a cynic..... so we didnt all turn out perfect. For that I will apologise. But do go on, and show us how it OUGHT to be done! ..... theres on in every crowd i tells ya
It ought to be done the way you want it to be done in your own thread. So, to insure that your thread turns out to be exactly what you would prefer it to be, from the outset you ought to be more specific both in describing the initial conditions of the exercise and any limitations you intend to impose on the participation of others.
For instance: "I willl write a paragraph and each new post will go on with the story, adding your unique touch to the story." might better be stated as: "Story-tellers' Challenge. Feel free to add a new paragraph to this story, but please remain true to its initial characters, situations, time period, locale, and story-telling style. Don't change anything, but do be uniquely creative."
"Oh, and if you have any prior professional writing experience please don't participate (you might make us look bad and we really won't learn anything from you, anyway. We just want to see if the story can make sense, not maybe learn how to write better").
Then you're really talking about 'ryeting skilz'--not the same thing as writing skills.
maybe this wasn't the way agent wanted it but to keep droping the story line so that you can go on an acid trip makes no sence
it makes these threads hard to read for starters and no one ends up liking it
it makes no sence to change the story to an acid trip every post
it makes these threads hard to read for starters and no one ends up liking it
it makes no sence to change the story to an acid trip every post
Asguard,
Re-read my posts. They are not about acid-tripping. They are about a protaginist awakening from a dream-state--a quite ordinary experience.
They are about re-inforcing dialog and identifiable character traits, such as introspection, as crucial elements of writing good fiction.
Story-telling is a third-person experience--outsiders looking in. Writing stories is about characters that exist in peoples' minds in the first-person.
I can be faulted for non-conformity--hey, and that's news?--but I can't be faulted for writing a story, and not simply telling one.
Reading comprehension is a crucial aspect of good writing.
Re-read my posts. They are not about acid-tripping. They are about a protaginist awakening from a dream-state--a quite ordinary experience.
They are about re-inforcing dialog and identifiable character traits, such as introspection, as crucial elements of writing good fiction.
Story-telling is a third-person experience--outsiders looking in. Writing stories is about characters that exist in peoples' minds in the first-person.
I can be faulted for non-conformity--hey, and that's news?--but I can't be faulted for writing a story, and not simply telling one.
Last edited:
Originally posted by Mr. G
It ought to be done the way you want it to be done in your own thread. So, to insure that your thread turns out to be exactly what you would prefer it to be, from the outset you ought to be more specific both in describing the initial conditions of the exercise and any limitations you intend to impose on the participation of others.
For instance: "I willl write a paragraph and each new post will go on with the story, adding your unique touch to the story." might better be stated as: "Story-tellers' Challenge. Feel free to add a new paragraph to this story, but please remain true to its initial characters, situations, time period, locale, and story-telling style. Don't change anything, but do be uniquely creative."
"Oh, and if you have any prior professional writing experience please don't participate (you might make us look bad and we really won't learn anything from you, anyway. We just want to see if the story can make sense, not maybe learn how to write better").
Then you're really talking about 'ryeting skilz'--not the same thing as writing skills.
for goodness sake, it was just a bit of fun. I wasnt going to make it into a linguistics lecture by outlining the impact of words and how to sturcture an sentence effeciently. I guess, i just ASSUMED people would flow on with the story, as thats what storys normally DO! I did want to make it quite eclectic so that It wasnt just my idea everyone was following from. It was just a little experiment I did. Its really not a big deal. I suggest if you are so distraught with its outcome, start a thread that has perfect descriptive instructions on how to write the story you would like them too..... cheer up sunshine, its not a matter of life a death, lets not make critism a negative word.