# Writer�s challenge/Writer�s prompt



## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

*Writer’s challenge/Writer’s prompt*

I am having a hard time loosening up to write, let’s get those creative juices flowing! 
I will add a new prompt every few days, whenever we get tired of one.
I’m excited to read people’s posts and get inspired! 
Prompt #1.
“*What was she doing at his family’s Thanksgiving dinner? He hadn’t seen her since the day he had left high school....”*


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

*What was she doing at his family’s Thanksgiving dinner? He hadn’t seen her since the day he had left high school....”*

...I stared at her. She looked good, Amy Lennon. Smooth walnut colored hair and eyes. I remembered playing BS with her during play practice and one night making out in a corner behind some curtains in the dark. That had been fun right before graduation. She was staring back at me intently, i broke the gaze finally, realized that my family was arranging the food busily on the table and finding places to sit. My brother, Zach, was sitting next to Amy, my mother was bringing mashed potatoes to the table. My younger sister sat looking obliviously at her smartphone.
”Well if it isn’t Amy Lennon here to listen to family politics and eat sweet potato pie! How are you, Amy? Hey moron, scoot over.” I said to my younger brother.
“Nothing doing, Chuck, I’m sitting next to my girlfriend.” 
The girl spoke for the first time. “Hi, Nice to meet you. I’m Sara.”
“Since when have you gone by Sara?” I asked.
“Since always.” The girl looked at me curiously. There was an awkward silence.
“I’m sorry, but what was your name again?”
“Sara Hockins. I’m Zach’s girlfriend.”
“I’m sorry but you look just like someone I know.”
“Who? Amy Lennon?”
“Yes! How did you know?” 
“You used her name earlier. Also, I know almost everything about Amy Lennon.” The girl turned to face me,smiling. This was incredible. This girl didn’t look like Amy, she WAS Amy, i was sure of it. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. Zach was busy talking to grandma, my father was ordering my sister to put down her phone and as if in a world of our own Amy Lennon stared at me, smiling, pouting her lips and saying slowly, “I can say hi to Amy if you want, Charlie.” One eyelid dropped in a quick wink.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

Really you guys these are just supposed to be fun and spontaneous--- just for loosening up. Plus I want to learn from you all! The prompt is just to be used as a springboard for anything you want to write. You just use the prompt for inspiration and you just do it on the fly to get limbered up to write your "real" stuff. 
*
Prompt #2. "He/She studied his/her face in the mirror."*


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## Dissenter (Jul 31, 2017)

Alesha said:


> *What was she doing at his family’s Thanksgiving dinner? He hadn’t seen her since the day he had left high school....”*
> 
> ...I stared at her. She looked good, Amy Lennon. Smooth walnut colored hair and eyes. I remembered playing BS with her during play practice and one night making out in a corner behind some curtains in the dark. That had been fun right before graduation. She was staring back at me intently, i broke the gaze finally, realized that my family was arranging the food busily on the table and finding places to sit. My brother, Zach, was sitting next to Amy, my mother was bringing mashed potatoes to the table. My younger sister sat looking obliviously at her smartphone.
> ”Well if it isn’t Amy Lennon here to listen to family politics and eat sweet potato pie! How are you, Amy? Hey moron, scoot over.” I said to my younger brother.
> ...


My trance is broken by a pat on the back from Dad who has just entered the dining room.

"Take a seat, Charlie." Dad tells me as he pulls himself a chair. 

I sit across Sara, trying hard not to stare. I look around the room and, behind Zach and his girlfriend, I see the familiar mahogany display cabinet with mother's old china, complementing the matching Hepplewhite dining chairs. The worn-out carpet underneath the dining table looks as if it had ceased to erode since I last dined in the room some three years ago. The familiar surroundings of my family house help me regain some of the composure I had lost in this perturbing encounter. Just then my mother, who is now sitting beside me, passes me the pot roast. Apparently, they had begun eating.

"Charlie, you've barely taken any; here, have some more." My mother starts filling my plate ignoring my protest. 

I have lost my appetite so I pretend to eat for a while before I excuse myself and head out to the yard for a smoke. I light a cigarette as I step through the french windows into the yard. An involuntary sigh escapes my lips as look up at the sky and spot the crescent moon surrounded by its twinkling companions. The rose bushes bordering the yard look as lovely as I remember them. The rhododendron trees on either side of the white gate, and the queen's wreath climbing up the garden's fence still retained their pink blossoms. I go to the farthest end of the yard so as to escape the notice of my parents if they decide to come looking for me. I hear laughter coming from the living room and soon afterwards, I hear the humorous sound of my dad playing Beethoven's_ rage over a lost penny_ on the piano; I let out a chuckle. 

I notice someone coming through the french windows and then I see Sara coming out, talking to someone on the phone. She doesn't notice me. I light another cigarette as I wait for her to finish her call and go back inside. She finishes her call and spots me as she's turning around to go back. I wave at her and she waves back and makes her way towards me. 

"Hi!" She says, smiling as she approaches me. 
"Hi" I return the smile. 

"Cigarette?" I offer her my pack, she takes one. As I lean over her to light her cigarette, I catch a whiff of something that I recall smelling somewhere a long time ago but I am unable to place it. She coughs as she takes her first drag. I chuckle and tell her that she doesn't have to smoke; she takes another drag. 

"You must be wondering how I know Amy Lennon"? She asks me breaking the awkward silence. 
"You think?" I reply.
"Well, it's a long story but, to put it briefly, Amy Lennon and I happen to be monozygotic twins who were adopted by two different families; we were unaware of each other's existence until quite recently when my parents decided that I should meet my sister." She replies. 
At that moment, I see Zack headed towards us. Sara quickly throws down the cigarette and crushes it beneath her heel.

"I have been looking for you all over the house." Zach says to Sara as he approaches us. "Mom wants us to come in for some coffee and cake."

We head inside and find the rest of the family in the living room. My mother and sister are sitting on the settee leaning over some magazines. My grandmother is napping on her wingback chair, and my dad is sitting at the piano, studying a score. My mother gets up to serve dessert as we enter the room. Sara walks over to my dad and I hear her start a discussion on music. I grab a cup of coffee and settle down on a chair beside my grandmother with a book from my dad's Chomsky collection. When I look up from my book after having read for quite some time, I see my dad excitedly pointing out something on a score to Sara. They seem to be having the time of their lives. I walk over to them and join in.

"So, Sara, what did you say you were studying?" I ask her.

As Sara tells me about the research she's doing; my eyes fall on dad who's looking out the window with an expression betraying such anger that it scares me. Our eye's meet, and for a moment there I feel as if he's going to hit me; then quite suddenly, his anger is replaced by a look of utter confusion. Perhaps noticing my disinterest, Sara excuses herself saying that she's going to go check on Zach. 

"Are you alright, dad?" I ask tentatively.
"Yes, yes, quite." He replies, all the while looking down the carpet with his brow furrowed.

I go back to reading my book but find myself unable to concentrate. I begin to feel a rush of emotion stirring inside me that I am unable to put a finger on. I look across the room and see Zach and Sara huddled together on the sofa, speaking in hushed tones. My abstruse emotion quickly turns into envy coupled with murderous rage towards my little brother. I rush out of the room into the kitchen for a drink of water. I gulp down a glass of water and sit down on a stool sipping my second glass of water while trying to make sense of what I was feeling. A few seconds later, I hear footsteps behind me. I look around and see Zach standing in the doorway, who had apparently followed me to the kitchen. 

"So, what do you think of Sara?" Zach asks.
"Seems alright." I shrug.
"Alright? I thought you two were best buddies now." I detect sarcasm in his tone.
"What makes you say that?" I ask.
"I saw you two smoking together in the yard. Sara doesn't smoke." I notice the colour rising in his cheeks.
"I was smoking, I offered her a cigarette. She's a big girl, Zach." 
"Stay away from my girlfriend, Charlie."
I raise my eyebrows in disbelief
"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I don't know what came over me." 
"That's alright, don't worry about it. I think I'm going to go to bed. I'm not feeling very well. Say goodnight to everyone for me."

As I turn around and walk towards my room, a very strange thought occurs to me. I feel as if all three of us, Zach, my dad, and I are somehow competing for the same woman. I'm about to shrug off the idea as some ludicrous notion arising from a particularly long, tiring day when something occurs to me. I return to the kitchen and find Zach sitting on the stool, staring into space.

"Zach, how did you and Sara meet?"
"Oh, we met ... " Zack stops mid-sentence looking as if he's struggling to remember something. He looks up at me in bewilderment.

"I don't know." He says.

[HR][/HR]


Over to you, @Alesha, or anyone who wants to give it a go. :laughing:


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## Northern Lights (Mar 25, 2016)

Alesha said:


> Really you guys these are just supposed to be fun and spontaneous--- just for loosening up. Plus I want to learn from you all! The prompt is just to be used as a springboard for anything you want to write. You just use the prompt for inspiration and you just do it on the fly to get limbered up to write your "real" stuff.


So Ne … :tongue:

I don't think I ever wrote something on the fly in my life. Have an amended mirror-prompt response -- after thinking about it and deciding what I want to do with it, as un-spontaneous as ever possiple. :happy:


Three hours on the main line, and the train takes you home; a blink of an eye for something new, an eternity for something old.

Behind the window, unseen, the country rushed past, a blur close, sedately afar, fields and woods and villages; the distant mountains, clear as if carved into the steely blue sky at first, glowing golden soon after, now hidden beneath the blanket of darkness they had unfurled to cover the land.

The lights in the compartment were on, spots that shone in the window like tiny stars, showing what was within without; the compartment and its ghostly twin, a reflection in glass: The chequered seats, blue and orange, the brassy luggage rack, with that single black briefcase that was missing the left clasp, and his own face; always the same, never changing. And just as monotonous the rattling of the wheels on the tracks, iron on iron, constant, never changing.

Across from him, the young woman sat, engrossed in her book. He studied her face in the window: The strand of hair that had escaped the somewhat sloppy bun, and now framed her face, dark blonde, though ash-coloured in the window, irritating her, for she brushed it behind her hear, an absent-minded gesture made a thousand times before; the lines from her chin to her cheeks clear and direct, giving her an energetic appearance; the tiny crease on her forehead, reflecting her opinion of whatever just happened on the page.

She suddenly looked up, and their eyes met in the window.

There was a tiny spark – an instant in time, the span between two heartbeats, this sudden rush of uneasiness, nervousness, excitement and expectancy that came and went, always there and always the same: the collision of something new and something old, something known and something unknown.

He wondered if she had felt it.

He turned his head towards her, finding a hesitant smile. He was sure his looked much the same.

“Where are you going?”

Three hours on the main line, and the train takes you home; an eternity for something old, a blink of an eye for something new.​


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

Northern Lights said:


> So Ne … :tongue:
> 
> I don't think I ever wrote something on the fly in my life. Have an amended mirror-prompt response -- after thinking about it and deciding what I want to do with it, as un-spontaneous as ever possiple. :happy:
> [/INDENT][/INDENT]


Point taken, Ti =) 
An enchanting piece. Please post again. =)


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Alesha said:


> I am having a hard time loosening up to write, let’s get those creative juices flowing!
> I will add a new prompt every few days, whenever we get tired of one.
> I’m excited to read people’s posts and get inspired!
> Prompt #1.
> “*What was she doing at his family’s Thanksgiving dinner? He hadn’t seen her since the day he had left high school....”*


So I'm way off topic but here goes 

It was storming cold outside- my car is running out of gas...no wait it's out of gas ...great what now? 
I realized that I'm only 5 blocks from home . Okay that's not bad, I can walk. Why didn't I bring an umbrella ? Or coat? It's freezing outside. Why did I choose to wear flip flops in the rain? Ugh . Suddenly I saw a house with lights on and saw a young gentlemen , he had long brown hair, was wearing plaid green pajamas and was eating dinner alone with his Persian cat - wait is that 
Fidel ? You must be kidding me-
Fidel was my high school sweetheart, he left without any notes or goodbyes 10 years ago . Is it possible that he's having dinner with his cat alone on Thanks giving? 
I should go, I told myself. Just then it started hailing ! Great just my luck . I don't care I need a place that's warm and there is no way in hell - that I'm able to walk for 5 blocks in flip flops when it's hailing. 
Soaked in water , and freezing cold- I walked up to his front down and knocked. He haven't seen me since high school, I wonder does he even remember who I am ? 

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## Whisperdream28 (Jul 5, 2011)

Thanks for posting these. Going to take advantage of them because I really need to get back into writing. Have been ignoring my stories for way too long... 



Alesha said:


> *Prompt #2. "He/She studied his/her face in the mirror."*


Skye studied her face in the mirror, lips pursed, her left eyebrow slightly raised. 

She really didn't look _that_ bad, all things considered. Her new bronzer had done a pretty good job at faking the tan she should have had from spending half the summer by the beach, and the blush on her cheeks made her look almost presentable. Besides, no one today would care what she looked like anyway. Certainly not her sister, who Skye was sure was already intent on making this day all about her. And certainly not Evan, who'd made it clear through a series of cryptic texts that he planned on bringing a date. 

Skye sighed, applying one more coat of lip gloss before pushing her bangs out of her face. It didn't matter who she was, Evan's mystery girl. It never mattered who she was. She was tall and poised sometimes, or short and funny and talkative. She was always different, a polar opposite from his last girlfriend. And she would stay in Evan's life for an average of 4.5 months, Skye knew, because of course, she had done the calculations. Evan's longest relationship had been with Crystal Dawson: 1.5 years, a temporarily shared apartment, and a breakup so bad he still shuddered whenever he heard her name. And his shortest had been with Maya Trevor, who dumped him only hours after they'd finally hooked up at Ashley Stevenson's going away party. 

Skye knew all of this of course, because Evan always told her. 

At least he used to always tell her, until that night on the beach a few weeks ago that changed everything.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

@Dissenter I loved the character development and the details, good strong voice. @Northern Lights I loved the descriptions and detail and focus in thought. Very Ti-Se and I learn a lot from that, I think. I especially loved the lights like tiny stars showing what is within and without and kind of a sculpted feeling to the descriptions-- very tangible. @ai.tran.75 I liked the whimsical voice with humor and other emotions laced into all of it without even needing to name emotions. @Whisperdream28 It's an intreguing lead-in. with character development.
I would love to hear more of everything you've got in each of your stories. I think you're each really talented. It reminds me that I need to READ more too as a writer. And read more from authors who are a variety of MBTI types-- because that can only help broaden my abilities. 
And I know these are just fun--- but you can't help but care about everything you write, right? And I think these are awesome and would all make great stories if they were longer....
New prompt coming up....


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

*New Prompt: "She'd have to hitch a ride home."*


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## Dissenter (Jul 31, 2017)

Whisperdream28 said:


> Thanks for posting these. Going to take advantage of them because I really need to get back into writing. Have been ignoring my stories for way too long...
> 
> 
> 
> ...


Thumbs up. Keep writing.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

Alesha said:


> *New Prompt: "She'd have to hitch a ride home."*


 @angelcat says she writes in present tense, going to give it a go. 

“Damn Collin, just...damn him!” I look down at my legs, scratched up from being pushed out of the car onto the gravel road at speed. There is actually a bloody drip from a pea-sized gash on my leg and it stings. My hands have tiny rocks stuck into them. “Damn Collin,”. Comes from under my breath again. I can still catch glimpses of his car dimly in the darkening light headed down the winding canyon road as I think the words, “Never again. Never again, damn it! I knew I should never have taken him back.” My hands brush the small rocks off in frustration. It’s no use standing around in the middle of the mountains at dusk, now is it? Better head down the road and hope for a car, don’t panic. Breath deep and walk. I will have to hitch a ride if the opportunity comes. Look at my filthy shoes! I’d chosen what to wear so carefully. Collin had said that he would take me out on the town to a fancy-schmancy dinner and concert. I don’t think my shoes will recover, I’m not sure my feet can stand much more either in them. Three inch stilettos, cobalt blue to match my dress. My favorite dress. This dress looks good at a concert, here in the mountains I look like bait, just trash. Pure trash, that’s how he treats me. What would anyone else who comes along on this road think? 40 miles from home on a gravel road in November freezing in a tight low cut and high hemmed dress. 
What will my mom say? Will she say sorry? That I was right? When I get home. God, please, I must get home tonight. Surely some car will come by? 
The pines along the road look tall, darkening silhouettes against the last gray light of the evening. I cannot figure our if they look like a refuge or like danger. The sunset had been beautiful from up here. Had Colin known he was going to do this to me tonight? Had he said let’s skip the concert and watch the sunset from Cottonwood peaks knowing he would get irrational? Did he offer to carry my cell phone for me knowing that I wouldn’t have any pockets in a nice dress. Had he planned this? As I had chatted with him and as he watched me so carefully putting on my make-up? The way he had planned to tie me up a year ago. Tie me up to scare me to “see what you do when scared.” He always claims there’s method to his madness, a reason to what he does. 
I teeter, almost slipping. This is ridiculous. I slip off my shoes and nylons, my fingers brush against the coldness in my feet. I’m shivering and picking up the shoes and nylons walk gingerly stepping with long careful strides. The gravel is sharp against my feet, the grass at the side of the road stickery and uneven. I can’t do this. I put the shoes back on, I drop the nylons, who cares? Or wait, will I need them as rope or something? Will I be forced to tie branches together with them for a bed? Should I sleep in the forest? There might never be a car tonight. Pray to God, No. 
Just two months ago Colin had made that awesome pink birthday cake and asked for my forgiveness in the lovingest way possible. He had paid one of my mom’s credit cards off. He’s always so kind to her. Why did he do this to me? Thinks nothing of doing this to me? I think of his smile. Last week he was happy. Happy and attentive to Zoey picking her up and making her laugh like she never laughs with me alone. 
A misty rain now flicks my face in minute tiny explosions of coldness. I throw my head back in it. Let’s see if I can lick the rain? I could get thirsty out here. What if I walk all night? I still wouldn’t even be half way home. But what else is there to do? Who knows what will happen to me tonight because I let Colin have me one night when I was mad at my mother and got wasted at a bar and got pregnant on our first date? Madness! Sometimes it seems my daughter was born out of insanity. Zoey. She’s all that matters. No matter how she got here. No matter who her dad and mother are. My black haired darling little drama queen. No matter how stupid my own decisions. She’ll cry to herself for hours tonight if I don’t get back, and my mother will be annoyed, saying I take advantage of her babysitting. When I tell my mom about tonight she will say it’s my fault, that I pissed him off, that he only does these things to teach me something. Almost like a joke. 
Maybe it is a joke. I see some headlights coming up the hill. Please be a woman, please be a middle- aged compassionate woman! Please God! The car is a truck, not Colin’s, the engine slows down, humming. 
“Hey there, Missey! What are you doing out here in the middle of the night? All dressed up, isn’t she?” He says to his buddy. I get an impression of beards and mustaches some beer and voices that sound like they have decided there is a county accent here even when there is not. 
Please be kind... as I hoist myself up into the truck seat I wonder: Did I ever have any choice ever? The choice to try to raise Zoey with no money? The choice to not get angry at my mom? The choice to never get into this truck? 
But I have to get home to Zoey, so I must find a way out of this.


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Alesha said:


> *New Prompt: "She'd have to hitch a ride home."*


I was driving on highway 9 when I first saw her- she told me her name was Marie. She was wearing a white dress with flowers in her hair , her long auburn hair was let wild and loose and her eyes as green as emerald- she stood about 169cm . It was 4 am, foggy and lightly sprinkling when I first saw her- I was driving home from a late night shift ...she was walking barefoot along the grass 
"Are you ok ? " I asked her 
" I'm fine, just kinda cold ." She answered "can I hitch a ride with you officer Lee? " 
I hesitated but then I saw the look in her hopeful green eyes and thought perhaps the young lady needed a ride home . 
" where do you need to be drop off at ?" I asked her 
"you can drop me off on oak street , it's just a few miles down ." She told me 
" why are you out so late ?" I asked her " how old are you? " the girl couldn't be more than 16 
" it's my birthday today ," she said " I just turned 16 , my name is Marie by the way. " 
" you shouldn't be out at this time, " I told her 
" you should be home with your wife ," she retorted back 
I looked at my ring finger , my wedding band was on 
" I should but I need to drop you off first," I told her 
" my stop is right here sir," she said 
I looked at the poor girl - lanky and shivering in her light garment- I offered her my coat 
" thanks officer, " she said . 
I dropped her off and drift off into sleep in my car 
The next morning I woke up, I realized that I'm parked in front of Madronia Cemetary. That's odd I thought, I need to call my wife , I thought to myself, but there wasn't any reception . I got out of my car, and walked a few block down into the cemetery. It's quite peaceful here in the morning I thought, most of these tombstone are dated back to the 1800s I notice . 
Suddenly I felt a small chill down my spine- I looked down and saw my jacket and the tomb stone in front of the jacket said Marie Murphy (December 5 1803-december 5 1819)
Just then my phone worked 
" hello ? " my wife answered her phone 
" honey you cannot believe who I saw this morning ," I told her 
" who ? " 
" your great grand aunt Marie." 



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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Alesha said:


> @angelcat says she writes in present tense, going to give it a go.
> 
> “Damn Collin, just...damn him!” I look down at my legs, scratched up from being pushed out of the car onto the gravel road at speed. There is actually a bloody drip from a pea-sized gash on my leg and it stings. My hands have tiny rocks stuck into them. “Damn Collin,”. Comes from under my breath again. I can still catch glimpses of his car dimly in the darkening light headed down the winding canyon road as I think the words, “Never again. Never again, damn it! I knew I should never have taken him back.” My hands brush the small rocks off in frustration. It’s no use standing around in the middle of the mountains at dusk, now is it? Better head down the road and hope for a car, don’t panic. Breath deep and walk. I will have to hitch a ride if the opportunity comes. Look at my filthy shoes! I’d chosen what to wear so carefully. Collin had said that he would take me out on the town to a fancy-schmancy dinner and concert. I don’t think my shoes will recover, I’m not sure my feet can stand much more either in them. Three inch stilettos, cobalt blue to match my dress. My favorite dress. This dress looks good at a concert, here in the mountains I look like bait, just trash. Pure trash, that’s how he treats me. What would anyone else who comes along on this road think? 40 miles from home on a gravel road in November freezing in a tight low cut and high hemmed dress.
> What will my mom say? Will she say sorry? That I was right? When I get home. God, please, I must get home tonight. Surely some car will come by?
> ...


I love the tragic humor in this- and how she ponders back and forth with thoughts about Colin in her mind. I find this piece very Ne oriented  
Damn Colin! 

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## heroindisguise (May 6, 2014)

Haven't written in ages - it sad. Taking a stab at prompt #2, hope my bad writing doesn't leave itself hanging out of an obnoxious habit of mine  

He studied her face in the mirror; the vast expanse of space, the universe, contracted into the shape of an almond. Ran the palms of his hand across black space and he can feel space-time warp - how there is a boundary around a changing infinity. His mind popped open: Is there a bottom to the human soul? Or are we just an abyss, with obligations we must carry with us across arbitrary human culture and time? Where the boundary is broken, can I find a single entity that is mine, and mine alone: and a single entity that is hers, and hers alone? 

You see, there is a part of us that belongs to everyone and no one, and I am not sure if I want to unravel that which I cannot keep.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

heroindisguise said:


> Haven't written in ages - it sad. Taking a stab at prompt #2, hope my bad writing doesn't leave itself hanging out of an obnoxious habit of mine
> 
> He studied her face in the mirror; the vast expanse of space, the universe, contracted into the shape of an almond. Ran the palms of his hand across black space and he can feel space-time warp - how there is a boundary around a changing infinity. His mind popped open: Is there a bottom to the human soul? Or are we just an abyss, with obligations we must carry with us across arbitrary human culture and time? Where the boundary is broken, can I find a single entity that is mine, and mine alone: and a single entity that is hers, and hers alone?
> 
> You see, there is a part of us that belongs to everyone and no one, and I am not sure if I want to unravel that which I cannot keep.


Oh, I really like this. INFP writers-- just amazing.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

@ai.tran.75. So my husband read this (Prompt #3 above) and really liked it, like wanted to hear more. So I got all cocky about it and somehow since it's so hard to get me to actually write stuff, even writing on the fly I get super attached to my stuff, I think. Please know I am chuckling when I say the next part: I was totally serious! No Alesha-humor should have touched the above writing at all. lol... my inspiration for it is that I worked with low-income mothers for 10 years. Sometimes they get with these guys so young and it's to escape horrible family life, but it's out of the frying pan and into the fire and then there are babies that make them dependent on everyone for help because they don't have resources or education. I was totally serious and thought I was writing something terrifying... lol.... so something I wrote on the fly needs some work you're telling me? Good feedback and thank you, hun. =) <3 I'm still chuckling....


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Alesha said:


> @ai.tran.75. So my husband read this (Prompt #3 above) and really liked it, like wanted to hear more. So I got all cocky about it and somehow since it's so hard to get me to actually write stuff, even writing on the fly I get super attached to my stuff, I think. Please know I am chuckling when I say the next part: I was totally serious! No Alesha-humor should have touched the above writing at all. lol... my inspiration for it is that I worked with low-income mothers for 10 years. Sometimes they get with these guys so young and it's to escape horrible family life, but it's out of the frying pan and into the fire and then there are babies that make them dependent on everyone for help because they don't have resources or education. I was totally serious and thought I was writing something terrifying... lol.... so something I wrote on the fly needs some work you're telling me? Good feedback and thank you, hun. =) <3 I'm still chuckling....


It is tragic - but the irony in it makes it humorous- I too want to know more as well. It is dark ( your story ) I have a very crude sense of humor ( hence my attraction to Ti ) 

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## sippingcappucino (Sep 23, 2017)

*Prompt: He promised to meet her by the bus stop, but it was snowing.*


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## dreaming herogirl (Aug 12, 2017)

*Prompt: He promised to meet her by the the bus stop, but it was snowing.*

Only now had she noticed how her breath blew out like smoke. The cold air that nipped at her exposed hands occupying most of her attention. Just a quick trip in and out, a least that was what she told herself. She tried not to think bitterly about him. She's sure he has his reasons or something she supposed. Maybe it was the cold, she could understand why he would be put off about it. *She* had gone though. She had thought it even if I don't want to go out, if he's there it's unfair of me to just stay here, right? It's fine, I'm sure he had something important. That reassurance seemed to make it worse though, leading her down a trail of doubt. It's fine, maybe he's just late, she tried, attempting to comfort herself. It's fine, she repeated a few times, till she calmed. She looked down at the snow, shivering a little, as she remembered the winter surrounding her. She rubbed her hands together before bringing them to her face. It was no use. Never mind, I'll just wait another hour, then, then, I'll go. Another promise, another conviction, another way to be okay.


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## ENFPurpleKitti (Mar 20, 2017)

ai.tran.75 said:


> PurpleKitti said:
> 
> 
> > Is there a word count goal for these? I forgot.
> ...


Hahaha, because, you know, I could go on forever if I'm not careful. I turned a ~10,000 word project into over 110 chapters (averaging 8,000 wpc) with my husband's help once, so ...

I guess if it goes too long I'll just post an excerpt, lol.


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## ENFPurpleKitti (Mar 20, 2017)

Urrrgh, I can't get my brain engaged on the letter in the bottle prompt, but I'll throw in a prompt I came up with a couple years ago. (I came up with several character-centric prompts, and I'll probably share more later.)

*Reviewing your character's profile, choose 6 character traits (e.g. favorite food, biggest fear) and write a scene involving those 6 traits.*


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

PurpleKitti said:


> Urrrgh, I can't get my brain engaged on the letter in the bottle prompt, but I'll throw in a prompt I came up with a couple years ago. (I came up with several character-centric prompts, and I'll probably share more later.)
> 
> *Reviewing your character's profile, choose 6 character traits (e.g. favorite food, biggest fear) and write a scene involving those 6 traits.*


There are other prompts ( just run through the pages ) - or you can use that one- long stories are fine- I don't mind reading 



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## ENFPurpleKitti (Mar 20, 2017)

I only can't go back to previous pages due to data being too low to load them. XP 

I got me something to write though, and will be sharing when I'm done. >^w^< <


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## ENFPurpleKitti (Mar 20, 2017)

PurpleKitti said:


> I got me something to write though, and will be sharing when I'm done. >^w^< <


Oh bummer, I forgot.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

@ai.tran.75. I actually did your prompt with my Viking book characters but I want to keep it in my book! However, it was a great way to look at the character and use some actual items to weave into a plot transition. <3


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Alesha said:


> @ai.tran.75. I actually did your prompt with my Viking book characters but I want to keep it in my book! However, it was a great way to look at the character and use some actual items to weave into a plot transition. <3


I'm flattered ! I'm guessing it's the write a letter prompt? 
Oh out of curiousity - after you read something- do you have visual/audio etc thoughts about it when reflecting? 
For example- I remember your story ( the one about the hs kid crushing on each other in the cafeteria and the girl freaking out over the watered down Cheetos ..) as if it was a tv episode 

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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

ai.tran.75 said:


> I'm flattered ! I'm guessing it's the write a letter prompt?
> Oh out of curiousity - after you read something- do you have visual/audio etc thoughts about it when reflecting?
> For example- I remember your story ( the one about the hs kid crushing on each other in the cafeteria and the girl freaking out over the watered down Cheetos ..) as if it was a tv episode
> 
> Sent from my SM-G955U using Tapatalk


Ai, oh my gosh your compliment did my heart good. Made me want to pick up my pen! Thank you dream and writing buddy. =)
Hmm. Okay, so I do have audio, I think. Which is so weird because I'm not an audio learner. Like I can hardly focus on a book on tape in order to understand it, but the voice will be in my head easily-- what the voice sounds like, that is. I do much better reading visually, and the dialogue will stick in my head sometimes or I might envision something that stays in my head. Sometimes I've been able to find books that I read in childhood that I couldn't remember the name of, but that I remembered some lines or sentences and searched them and found the book. 
Do you have any other thoughts about it or things that you experience when reading? =)


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Alesha said:


> Ai, oh my gosh your compliment did my heart good. Made me want to pick up my pen! Thank you dream and writing buddy. =)
> Hmm. Okay, so I do have audio, I think. Which is so weird because I'm not an audio learner. Like I can hardly focus on a book on tape in order to understand it, but the voice will be in my head easily-- what the voice sounds like, that is. I do much better reading visually, and the dialogue will stick in my head sometimes or I might envision something that stays in my head. Sometimes I've been able to find books that I read in childhood that I couldn't remember the name of, but that I remembered some lines or sentences and searched them and found the book.
> Do you have any other thoughts about it or things that you experience when reading? =)


That's interesting- for me what I read will play back like a memory - it's highly abstract when explained ( for I don't have clear visual image of the story) however it make perfect sense in my mind- come to think of it when you write do you have a clear image of what your characters look like ? I notice that I may describe my characters but their image is quite blurry when recapturing thoughts . 

I notice I'm not an audio learner either but my train of thoughts is very audio/verbal musical - oh yeah kinda off topic but I think Ne users may use frontal lobe of the brain more than other type - what do you think 

But back on writing! I'm glad I made you want to write again  

Had any of your dreams ever inspired your writings? 

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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

@ai.tran.75. Yes I’m like you, it’s all abstract unless I have a dream that is sharp and clear. Or sometimes if I’m very focused on imagining a scene first thing in the morning then there is kind of a deeper state of imagining where I think some Ni is actually happening and I will get a strong impression of something that “did” happen or should happen in my book. It feels like “did” since it’s historical. And it will be strong enough that I actually start researching it. This is as rare as when the pictures flash, Ai (like what I know happens to both you and me about once a year or so) and once the scene/image is there it’s so strong that, like I said, I research. Okay so here’s the example: I had a strong mental image that when my male character came to fetch his bride that instead of putting her in the long boat with him and the other men, that he put her in a small boat being tugged behind. I then tried to do research on nautical lore and things Vikings thought about women being on boats and women’s relationship to the sea and to navigation at the time and what women we knew traveled with Viking raids, etc. I saw her very clearly from this experience and I also got an impression of him. He’s tall and big and somewhat egg-headed/a bit nerdy looking. Not bad-looking though, and their relationship seemed obvious to me. They liked being together. They loved talking with each other. ENFP/INTJ. I could draw her. Very standard features, very confident and fearless air— inside she was nervous, but she was very sure of him luckily. Since navigation was close to magic, women were considered great navigators, but the rest of it is hard to tell. From my 8 years of research it looks like the ocean Norns (9 daughters) might try to drown a woman in a boat and so she is considered a liability. In one of the sagas it is forbidden for her to sail from Denmark to Sweden but in other records women went on raids often. So— hard to pin down the research.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

@ai.tran.75 What about you, Ai? I'd love to hear.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

NEW PROMPT! 
You are getting sorted into your Hogwarts house. Describe what's going on. Also... what Harry Potter time period are you in? Do you rub shoulders with a young Snape and Lilly and James? Or a young Dumbledor? Or Harry, Luna, Cedric, Cho? ???? Oh so fun! The pottermore site with the house tests might help if you haven't done that already. 
https://www.pottermore.com/


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

I just spent 2 hours writing about the sorting of a character named Elaine.
And when I hit send my computer said, "Has lost internet connection". And the whole thing is lost to the ether. I highly suggest from now on that we write on a word doc or something and cut and paste!
Ahhh.....


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

I wrote a different version. They seem pretty different. Ahh well. 

When Professor Slugworth arrived by broom to Elaine's house her mother stared at him. "But we thought the letter from Hogwarts was a gimmick for a friend's birthday party. We actually bought a present. Now you're telling me my daughter is being requested at wizard school? How much does a thing like that cost?"
"Oh yes, we always follow up with Muggle families who have no knowledge of magic in the case that they don't quite trust the letter. I find it to usually be the case. From what we understand your Elaine is quite magical and will fit right in at our school."
"What's a Muggle?" Elaine's mother asked dully. Elaine sat squirming in her chair, feet dangling. She had known the letter wasn't the usual kind, she just knew it. It had come down the chimney and right into her hands, and then there was the slight sound like far away bells when she had opened it. Elaine had always wondered if she was magic. She had always played little games to see if she could accomplish small bits of magic. She could make it stop raining over just her head or read the mind of her cat. She felt like she had conducted these little experiments and wonderfully much of it had worked. Elaine knew she was magic, but would this mean leaving her family? 
A year ago, Elaine’s father had walked to the store to get some milk and disappeared, leaving her family in a state of confusion and sadness. Elaine, her mother, her older sister and her younger brother had spoken about it once. Elaine’s mother said she knew that their father would never leave them and concluded that he had probably been killed. Elaine had screamed at her mother, somehow she felt her dad was still alive. Why couldn’t they look for him? Her mother had refused to see any other scenario and then the separation began. Each member of Elaine’s family had started mourning alone with their own version of what had happened, each one appearing to act strong most of the time, each realizing that if any of them cried the others would as well. They were together and yet alone. What would they feel if she left home?
Professor Slugworth was talking now about how she would be taken care of and protected. Protected? Did she need to be protected? 
“And it is the safest place for your daughter, I guarantee it. Hogwarts has over a 1000 years of enchantments to keep it safe. She will be quite well cared for and you wouldn’t want anything untoward to happen to your daughter by her staying outside of wizarding school.”
“I’m not sure what could happen to her here. We know every person in our town, it’s that small. I just can’t get my head around why I would ever let her go when she is very wanted here. Perhaps your school can arrange a tutor if you want to teach her so badly.” Elaine’s mother said. 
“There are certain happenings going on right now in the wizard world that----Can we speak alone, perhaps, Mrs. Jablonski?” 
Elaine’s mother said, “You can go outside to play for a bit, Elaine. I’ll call you in when we’re ready.”
Elaine went out into the backyard and sat on a swing that she was now too tall for. Her sister and brother were in the loft playing video games, but Elaine was glad for the opportunity to go outside for a minute. Her cat meowed by her feet and looked up at her with big yellow eyes. He was a large cat resembling a Norwegian forest cat with a brown tabby head and neck but with white patches on his chest, body, and paws. “What do you think, Arthur?” Elaine asked her cat, picking him up and stroking his luxurious fur. “I’d like to learn more magic.”
“I always knew you would go. This is what good witch girls do. You’ll love it,” Said Arthur. 
“What about our family? Dad gone and then me.”
“Ask old Slugworth for a magic mirror.”
“What?”
“Just ask him. I’m coming with you. No human of mine is going to Hogwarts without me. Pumpkin juice here I come!”
“Pumpkin juice? You’re such an unusual cat!”
Skip to 9 ¾

Elaine and her family stood at the platform of 9 ¾ staring as children in robes ran head-first into a wall and disappeared. Professor Slugworth had taken her to Diagonally the day before to get books and a wand. Elaine’s wand was unicorn hair in rowan wood and it had a whippiness to it that she liked. Ever since she got it, she didn’t want it out of her sight. 
It was time. Her family hugged her one by one. Elaine saw her mom trying to make her “Kind wise and strong” face. “Alright my darling. It’s time. You remember who you are.” 
“Mom, ask the mirror to see me every day, okay?” 
“I packed it with you.”
“What?”
“Somehow I think you’ll need it to comfort you, and I just…. I can’t stand being selfish at all with you. I just can’t when you kids have had so much heart ache. I will send you letters. Every day. And you will write to me every day, you understand.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I know.” Elaine’s mother smiled.
Elaine closed her eyes and took a running start and felt…nothing….
“Hey… hold up young lady, you’re about to run onto the tracks.” A comforting voice said and took her arm. 
Elaine was standing in front of a train, the Hogwarts Express. “Do I just sit anywhere?” 
“Anywhere you like. We are about to take off.”
Elaine got on the train she walked past a coach with 3 older boys dressed in black talking seriously then past a coach packed to the brim with squealing older girls wearing all sorts of colorful clothes. The next coach had a boy and a girl in her age in robes as she was. She eyed them and poked her head in, “Hi, can I sit in here with you?”
“Hello there!” The girl was lovely with an oval face, strawberry hair and expressive green eyes. 
“This coach is full.” The boy said succinctly. He had long straight black hair and a prominent nose. 
“There is plenty of room if I move my bag. I’m Lilly. What’s your name?”
“Elaine.” Said Elain setting Arthur’s travel cage down. 
“What a gorgeous cat! Oh,I love cats, do you think he would let me pet him?”
“He loves being petted so he certainly will,” Elaine opened the travel case and Arthur wrapped up in Lilly’s arms and started to purr.
The boy seemed to recoil but the two girls cooed and smiled at each other, admiring the cat. Elaine noted that Lilly had a dimple when she smiled. 
“I’d be very happy to have a bit of home with me like this kitty, Elaine. You’re from Ireland, aren’t you? You have such a pretty accent. Severus was just talking about what to expect at Hogwarts since I’m nervous. He thinks he will go into Slytherin house and I guess I will too since he is my best friend. He knows everything about Hogwarts since his family is full of wizards.”
“House? I thought Hogwarts was one big place.” “It is, but when we get there they put us into groups and you go to class with other children from your same house. And our bedrooms are in the 4 different houses.”
“If you go into Slytherin house then can I ask to go there too? 
“That’s a fantastic idea!” Smiled Lilly. 
“You cannot.” Said the boy. 
“Why not?” I said. 
“Because there is a test.”
“What sort of test?”
“Well, for you, a very short one.” The boy seemed to think that was hilarious, he started to giggle but then the giggle turned into a snort.
“Severus, you snorted again!” Lilly started to giggle herself.
“I did not.” Severus turned pink. 
“You did!” laughed Lilly. “Elaine, there was this time that Severus put a spell in my sister’s cup of tea. It was lovely, actually. We kept thinking we could get her to like magic. It looked like a tiny fairy was sitting on the rim of her cup, but she didn’t like it at ALL. She shouted and spilled the tea all over her dress and Severus started to laugh, but when he laughs he snorts and he couldn’t stop! Oh, it was funnier than the spilled tea. I couldn’t stop laughing. I love it when he snorts! But about the Hogwarts house test, Severus’ family is magical and he knows oh so much because he is so smart. He told me all you have to do is sit still.”
“I’m not snorting! I’m sniffing from the c-c-cat! Achu!” 
“Oh, it’s so stupid that I forgot. Severus has a low-grade cat allergy.”

-------------------skip forward------------

When the sorting hat sang it’s song then the older students looked a bit bored. A girl named Annie sat down and the hat was placed onto her head. “Hufflepuff!” the hat called out. The Hufflepuff house table burst into cheers. 
Severus was next. He walked grandly to the chair and swept his cape around him in a flourish when he sat down. Elaine thought it was a bit dramatic for an eleven year old. When Elaine looked closely it seemed like the hat was bouncing up and down a bit, Severus’ lips moved and his eyes closed in what looked almost prayerful. “Slytherin!” Shouted the hat!
Slyherin kind of cheered, but it actually came out as a jeer. “We can do it, yes we can. If Slytherin can’t do it no one can.” 
“There will be none of that, Slytherin.” Dumbledore intoned.
Severus didn’t walk towards his table, though. Instead he stood up with the same ceremony that he had sat down with and pulled the chair back just a little, less for any purpose than just for flare, basically. He might as well have said, “Your chair M’Lady.” His eyebrows raised expectantly. 
Elaine had been noticing that many of the boys’ eyes had been on Lilly and if they weren’t looking before, they were now as Lilly started up the stairs. He sat in the chair and the sorting hat was about to be placed on her head when it yelled, “Gryffindor!” The Gryffindors whooped and banged good naturedly on their table.
Elaine looked at Severus. His face had turned even paler. He seemed stunned. Lilly stood up and took Severus’ arm which seemed to startle him for a second as well. Together they walked down the stairs, looked at each other for a second, parted and went to their respective seats. None of it had gone unnoticed. Most everyone stared after Lilly, but if they weren’t they were looking at Severus. 
It was finally Elaine’s turn. The Gryffindors seemed like a happy bunch. Elaine crossed her fingers. She sat down. The hat was placed on her head. 

“Why Lassie!’ Elaine sat up with surprise. The hat was speaking to her and all of a sudden the hat sounded a lot like her uncle Brian. “A Irish girl from my home country! Would you mind if I sang you a song?”
“Not at all!” Laughed Elaine. 
“Tell me now. Do you know any of the Irish Gaelic?”
“No, I’m sorry. I would have had it in school this year.”
“Pity. Ask Dumbledore if you can come see me sometimes. Will you?”
“Yes, certainly, I will. If everything here is like you are then I’m going to love it here!”
“You would love it here no matter what. You will be music teacher here someday.”
“Will I? I think I’d like that!”
“You will for a time, but I guess we haven’t got all day. Ready for the song? Elaine wondered if everyone thought she was speaking to herself, so it was to Elaine’s delight the hat sang in a very different voice from before. It sang in a loud and clear Irish tenor. 

“Around and around my little wren
A songbird sang in a glen
What is it this or that child will do?
This one will always have a song for you
A nightingale’s thrill or a blackbird’s caw
This songbird belongs in Ravenclaw!

The Ravenclaw table burst out with cheers. 
“How was that?” whispered the hat. 
“It was very good as you very well know except—” and Elaine started to giggle at how comfortable she felt “the blackbird’s caw part needs some work.”

“Very unusual.” Dumbledore’s voice floated over the crowd. “You may visit the hat on Wednesday afternoon, Elaine.”
Professor Slugworth’s voice was now heard, “I didn’t know you were so musical, Elaine. What do you play?” Elaine thought of what to say. She used to sing all the time when father was home, but that was then. “I play the recorder.” Elaine said. 
The Ravenclaws and actually most of the students seemed to think what Elaine had said was very funny. Elaine didn’t know what to make of this and it seemed that she was getting too much attention. She looked over at Lilly who was smiling encouragingly at her and there was for a second what seemed like a proud smile on Lilly’s face. Elaine walked forward towards Ravenclaw table with what felt like two feelings conflicting in her heart. One felt worried about the expectations that had just been placed on her. Would people expect her to be funny? Did they expect her to perform music? Would people like her for who she was? The other feeling was an amazing feeling of hope. 

There was a beautiful tall girl with twinkling eyes maybe a bit older than her wearing tie-dyed clothes and whose hair was cut in an impressive afro who looked welcoming. A sandy-haired boy with glasses stomped his foot and out from the leg of his plaid bell-bottoms came a hedgehog that he then very seriously placed on top of his head all the time looking intently at her as she walked forward. A sophisticated girl with long smooth brown hair and a dazzling smile who had a paintbrush stuck above her ear took the brush and flicked it like a wand and suddenly there was a red carpet under her feet leading her to a spot right next to the girl. 
As the sorting continued, Elaine thought about the two feelings competing inside her and realized she had a choice. She chose hope and as she did she realized that no matter what houses she and Lilly were in that they would stay friends. She wondered if she might come to feel more at home here than perhaps she ever would have in her old school and as she thought this another thought came through to her. What if she could learn enough magic to find her father?


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

PurpleKitti said:


> Urrrgh, I can't get my brain engaged on the letter in the bottle prompt, but I'll throw in a prompt I came up with a couple years ago. (I came up with several character-centric prompts, and I'll probably share more later.)
> 
> *Reviewing your character's profile, choose 6 character traits (e.g. favorite food, biggest fear) and write a scene involving those 6 traits.*


Kitti, it was YOUR prompt I did for my Viking book. It worked very well!


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## ENFPurpleKitti (Mar 20, 2017)

Alesha said:


> I just spent 2 hours writing about the sorting of a character named Elaine.
> And when I hit send my computer said, "Has lost internet connection". And the whole thing is lost to the ether. I highly suggest from now on that we write on a word doc or something and cut and paste!
> Ahhh.....


you mean you weren't?

then again, i guess i got so used to not really having internet enough to do it any other way, so... *shrug* so very sorry to hear it all got list though. thats tragic. i hate losing so much of my work.

*sigh* and i kinda feel like a waste of time and space here because i still haven't posted any writing and have barely read anyone else's. T_T


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

PurpleKitti said:


> you mean you weren't?
> 
> then again, i guess i got so used to not really having internet enough to do it any other way, so... *shrug* so very sorry to hear it all got list though. thats tragic. i hate losing so much of my work.
> 
> *sigh* and i kinda feel like a waste of time and space here because i still haven't posted any writing and have barely read anyone else's. T_T


Well.... did you read the long thing I DID post. It's so freaking long! I stayed up another 4 hours re-writing..... I liked the flavor of the first one though, a bit more upbeat and nailed young Snape down a bit better. He had more lines. But the 2nd one developed the plot more. =)


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## ENFPurpleKitti (Mar 20, 2017)

i'll look at it when i can. most likely at the library later this week.


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Prompt - was it all a dream 

Or 

Tell one of your real life story from another person pov 

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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

ai.tran.75 said:


> Prompt - was it all a dream
> 
> Or
> 
> ...


I hadn't taken the ferry to Gresham Island in years. Still it was much the same. Not a large ferry, it bumped along as if the waves were double sized-- it hadn't a very steady temper. There were still nuns taking the ferry just as I remembered and I smiled at the two tee-hee-ing across from me. Their wrinkled smiles seemed younger than mine. There was something about Gresham Island that made you like that, I thought. When I had attended the Catholic school when I was a girl I had felt myself frozen in time, as if I wasn't growing rapidly into new sizes of dresses and as if I wasn't becoming a young woman at all-- instead becoming a tallish girl-toddler with knees and feet many sizes too big and a lopsided grin that only got shucked off my face barely in time for college by Bradley Damien, a university senior who decided to take my virginity and my smile for a few wild dances, and thank goodness he did, I thought. It grew me up quickly before everything with Paul started....
That was why I was here, I realized. I wanted the feeling of starting again, and I wanted to see if I could feel some sense of belonging somewhere-- although I felt I'd never really even belonged to Gresham Island, even while attending it as a little girl. Of course, there may be a business venture too. I was working for a business man who might see the possibilities of Gresham school. It was run down. It was in need of funds, and if I could see some potential there then I might get my employer to listen.
"I'd put money into almost anything you thought was going to hit big." He'd said, "Heck, I'd put money into anything you wanted me to whether we see it hit big or not. I owe you that much." He'd said. So I told him I might want to see his company put something towards a philanthropic cause. 
I got off the ferry where there was a little landing of green. The nuns waved as they went giggling off. No I hadn't recognized them. Neither one had been one of "The Reverend Mothers". I stared at the school in front of me. It had once been a hotel, one of the largest in the West. The likes of Mark Twain and Jedediah Smith had stopped here and sipped their tea with the semi-gentry, unable to keep away from the only hospitable and cultural location in 200-300 miles around. Along with the hotel, there was a theater which had always been my favorite part of the school. I closed my eyes to hear loudly the intense humming of bees and insects. I had not heard this many bees since I was a little girl on this island. Here was a place where bees could be happy, I thought, as I looked at the 12 rows of apple trees in magical white robes in front of the school. The trees were almost like I remembered, in want of pruning. 
I thought for a minute why I was hesitating, why I might not want to proceed, then I very consciously stretched my lips back away from my teeth in a mockery of a smile. I would go in. I would face the place where my parents had been killed and where I had been left and told there was no other choice. Nobody was coming to get me. Where Paul and the other children had been left, where we had learned our only purpose and learned it too well for we were told there was no other place on earth except Gresham Island. @ai.tran.75.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

At first it was shocking, but then became normal. I had been kept in beautiful surroundings of shapes and colors and flora we humans would not have thought of together, the blend of the biological and artisan had been strange at first, but now I could hardly remember anything else. I had learned a certain waterfall was a good one to sit in, and a silk-looking funnel in a marble statue was a type of latrine. Hopefully I had that right. I have not been punished for a few decades. They kept us alive over time with what must be cloned organs, a bit different maybe in the process than what we had been doing on earth. I knew I looked different than what I had on earth, but mostly I forgot what that difference was. 
In the household I was in, I had seen no other humans. Since we had been taken when our planet was taken for basically scrap metal, i wasn’t sure about “us” or “we” anymore, but at the time maybe a few hundred of us had been taken and then distributed. But I kept those words in my mind “us” “we”. I found I was more accepting of my situation that way, more docile. 
This year they were watching me more frequently. One of them, the one with more heat, had taken me out recently and I had tolerated the slow touching and probing as best I could, heart racing, 40 feet in the atmosphere. I always felt exhausted after and I always felt ashamed. There was no dignity or choice. I looked for bruises but the only one I saw was on my ankle from being lifted. I wondered how other humans withstood it, whether their lot was different than mine. I wondered if any of them had any work.. because if I wasn’t mad yet it was because I had given myself something to do. I created baskets out of strips of plants. And being able to weave I’d also worked out a writing system with knots. In this way I could go back and with my hands find all of the things I had written about my first experiences. I’m not sure if my brain would even have a language anymore after all of this time if not for that. One year I had woven every song I’d ever known, and these I pick up often and it gives me pitches and sound in my memory from these cloned brains, luckily the cloned brains were introduced in small pieces so that my memories taught the new bits new memories. 

I see them watching me now, they have been for a stretch of time and suddenly the light comes on and I’m being lifted. But this has never happened before. I’m placed down semi-gently in what seems like a white room. A big white bowl, more like, about 30 feet in diameter. It is slippery. There is some kind of film on the walls and floor that seems slightly corrosive. I’m sure to have some rashes or first degree burns later, but why... and I’m nauseous and I don’t want to be as the bowl is moved. I stay on the floor. I try to tell myself that my keepers are safe. They have not punished me in decades! Perhaps I have another operation to undergo, but this has not happened before for my operations. There is a blinding light, as most light is in this world for a minute or two. 

A human— I think it may be a human—is opposite me on the floor in the bowl. I cannot make a sound. I’m more terrified of it— of him— I think— than I have been of my keepers. Does it seem human? What else could it be? He does not have just 2 legs, he does have 2 arms. He is dark. He wears strange head gear. I count. I have 4 arms now, no tail like he does. I still have just 2 legs, but I’m not standing as well as he is, and as he stands I look away.
“Do you speak my language?” He says. I understand him, but I do not know. “Do you speak my language? I will not hurt you, I promise.” He is moving towards me I see from the corner of my eye. I wonder if I might die quickly. 
“Can you use sign language?” He says as I try to move to turn away. “Can you? I’m trying to show the aliens that our hands can do things. I keep seeing them amputated off of you ladies, but you have 4 hands, I see. I will not hurt you. My name is Terrel. I will wait a minute until you calm down.”


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Llyralen said:


> At first it was shocking, but then became normal. I had been kept in beautiful surroundings of shapes and colors and flora we humans would not have thought of together, the blend of the biological and artisan had been strange at first, but now I could hardly remember anything else. I had learned a certain waterfall was a good one to sit in, and a silk-looking funnel in a marble statue was a type of latrine. Hopefully I had that right. I have not been punished for a few decades. They kept us alive over time with what must be cloned organs, a bit different maybe in the process than what we had been doing on earth. I knew I looked different than what I had on earth, but mostly I forgot what that difference was.
> In the household I was in, I had seen no other humans. Since we had been taken when our planet was taken for basically scrap metal, i wasn’t sure about “us” or “we” anymore, but at the time maybe a few hundred of us had been taken and then distributed. But I kept those words in my mind “us” “we”. I found I was more accepting of my situation that way, more docile.
> This year they were watching me more frequently. One of them, the one with more heat, had taken me out recently and I had tolerated the slow touching and probing as best I could, heart racing, 40 feet in the atmosphere. I always felt exhausted after and I always felt ashamed. There was no dignity or choice. I looked for bruises but the only one I saw was on my ankle from being lifted. I wondered how other humans withstood it, whether their lot was different than mine. I wondered if any of them had any work.. because if I wasn’t mad yet it was because I had given myself something to do. I created baskets out of strips of plants. And being able to weave I’d also worked out a writing system with knots. In this way I could go back and with my hands find all of the things I had written about my first experiences. I’m not sure if my brain would even have a language anymore after all of this time if not for that. One year I had woven every song I’d ever known, and these I pick up often and it gives me pitches and sound in my memory from these cloned brains, luckily the cloned brains were introduced in small pieces so that my memories taught the new bits new memories.
> 
> ...


Very sci-fi ish ! I thought she was an animal at first lol the story is kinda eery - especially about the four arms , much darker than your other stories- I hope theres a follow up to this story 

Sent from my SM-G955U using Tapatalk


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

ai.tran.75 said:


> Very sci-fi ish ! I thought she was an animal at first lol the story is kinda eery - especially about the four arms , much darker than your other stories- I hope theres a follow up to this story
> 
> Sent from my SM-G955U using Tapatalk


Maybe I will do the cleaned up version. I appreciate you reading it so much, Ai! /hugs.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

*New prompt. First person and/or short screen-play. Put yourself into a situation that you personally hope to never be in. *


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

Disclaimer: I really wanted to explore a fear of mine... I drive some dark windy roads that don't have much shoulder and sometimes there are people who walk those roads who seem to come out of nowhere.... but my court stuff is seriously flawed. I did a tiny bit of research, but I've never been in court. Still I wanted to explore this situation.

Hannah: Voice-over _I don't know if I ever will get rid of the guilt of what happened. The questions of where Michael would be now, what he would be doing. Knowing that I had taken a life gave a weight to my life that I didn't know that I could handle. I didn't know if I could carry Michael's death, but I would have to._
Judge: "I'd like to thank you for all being here today. As you all know we are here to assess whether there was negligence or reckless conduct in the accidental death of Michael Martinez." [Side shot of Hannah and small group of people. The camera focuses on Hannah, the defendant, a middle aged mother. 
"You should all have copies of the police report that was made and the coroner evidence that was taken after Michael's accident in front of you. 
Our plaintiffs are Michael's parents Allen and Rose Martinez. Hannah will you take the stand?" [Hannah slowly rises and takes the stand]
Prosecutor: "We would like you to remember the night of July 25th when your car hit Michael Martinez on the road. Do you remember that night?"
Hannah: "Very clearly". [Voice-over of Hannah's mind _They say that there is a pedestrian killed every minute in this country_ The camera shows flash backs of a dark road and images of a person on a road]
Prosecutor: "What do you remember about that night?"
Hannah: "My children and I were driving back home from the Summer fireworks show in Springfields." [Voice-over: _For the record Michael's death would have been no exception_ flashbacks of fireworks and children's faces]
Prosecutor: "Had you been drinking?"
Hannah: "No, and the police report shows that the officer conducted a Breathalyzer test and coordination test and those show I had not been drinking. [Voice-over _You would have thought Michael's death was just one more tragic teenage death_. flashbacks of the scene of the crime.]
Prosecutor: "Was there any inclement weather that night?"
Hannah: "There was not, well, only a light sprinkle, however it was very dark. It was after 11:00." [Voice-over _But it was not a usual death. Not to me. Not to his mother and father. Not to my children._ flashbacks of the dark winding road]
Prosecutor: "You say it was after 11:00. Do you know what time?"
Hannah: "Yes. It would have been in between 11:00 and 11:15." [voice-over _I'd already asked if I could pay the funeral expenses._
Prosecutor: "The police report puts the time of death at around 11:13, is that correct?"
Hannah: "Yes, or within just a few minutes of that time." [Voice-over _How would I ever forget?_ flashbacks of Hannah looking under her car.]
Prosecutor: "What was your exact relationship with Michael Martinez?"
Hannah: ""He was my nephew. My brother's son." [voice-over _There had always been such a special bond between Michael and I and also my children_. Flashbacks of Michael at Hannah's house sitting on a kitchen stool, talking to her.
Prosecutor: "Can you tell us what happened that night?"
Hannah: "Yes. As we were driving across the bridge I saw that there was someone with their bicycle on the pedestrian ramp. It was Michael. All of a sudden his bicycle swerved out onto incoming traffic. I stopped the car. Michael was dead. I called the police. "
Prosecutor; "Thank you. Were there any witnesses?" 
Hannah::"Yes. There were people who stopped and the police officer got their testimony." flashbacks of scene of crime]
Prosecutor: "Did your children see any of the accident?"
Hannah: "Unfortunately, yes." flashbacks
Prosecutor: "In the report it says that Michael's body hit your tire and went under the car and was dragged there for about 20 feet. Is this correct?"
Hannah; "Yes." [camera on Hannah's face, her eyes wide.]
Prosecutor: "Do you remember how fast you were going?"
Hannah: "Yes. Not too fast. There were many cars driving home after the fireworks. I was definitely under speed limit."
Prosecutor: "Do you or your children have any idea why Michael Martinez would have been on the bridge at around 11:00 at night?"
Hannah: "I cannot speak for my children and I have asked that they not be asked to take the stand and I've been told that they wouldn't have to, but in my opinion he might have been trying to see the fireworks."
Prosecutor: "You can't see the fireworks from the two towns."
Hannah; "I wouldn't know. We're new in town. This is the first fireworks show on the 25th that I've been to."
Prosecutor: "Do you have any other ideas of why Michael would be on the bridge with his bicycle at 11:10 pm?"
Hannah: "None"
Prosecutor: "You're new in town, but you have family here."
Hannah: "Yes, obviously. My brother has made the lawsuit." [camera shows Hannah's brother and wife]
Prosecutor: "Your brother would like compensation for the loss of companionship of his son as well as funeral costs."
Hannah: "I already paid for funeral costs by my own free will. This was a horrible accident, unless the court sees that there was negligence or dangerous behavior, I do not see how I can get charged with Wrongful Death."
Prosecutor: "The judge will review the information and decide. That is all my questions." [Hannah leaves the stand. She exchanges glances with both her sister in law and her brother.
Hannah's Voice-over: _Just a normal tragic accident, yet I knew it wasn't an accident and I knew my brother knew. I had gone over to pick up Michael to see fireworks with my children and I, and had not found him in the house. I had found him outside sitting under a tree _
Flashback: Hannah to talking to Michael under the tree: "If you want to run away, I will hide you. You know I will hide you. We could do homeschool. I will report your dad. I will report his wife."
Michael: [Shakes head]
Hannah: It's emotional and mental abuse. I think people understand mental abuse now. You're in danger, mental danger. I know I've tried to report this before and people didn't listen, but I live here in town with you now and you are not safe. And if I find bruises on you I am here to take you in. Something's got to give, and I know it. I moved here to make sure you had a home to go to, so that you would know that you have me and my family. You don't have to run away like Robert. I told Robert he could come live with us in Arizona too. You two don't have to be on your own. I already told your mom that I would take you. She expects me to be more loyal to you than to her."
Michael". [Shakes head]
Hannah: "Sweetheart, really. Really. She told me... do you know what she told me? She said she wouldn't let you go with me because she said I would spoil you and she says she wants to punish you whenever you do wrong. She won't let up! She didn't let up on Robert and she won't on you. At least come with us to see fireworks. My kids just adore you, think you are the coolest guy. No? I will ask your mom if you can come spend the weekend and help pick peaches? Yes? Okay. I will see you tomorrow, okay?" 

Voice-over _When I saw Michael on the bridge it was as if he were waiting for my car to come. I saw his face right before he jumped in front of my car. His eyes and mine locked, I remember each second in perfect replay. I saw a look of joy and peace for a second. What is strange to me...so strange... is that somehow it makes me feel better to think that he wanted his death, but what is also so strange is that I don't want to feel better at all. I want my chance to offer something better to Michael than his death_

Judge: "There is nothing in the police reports or witness testimonies to indicate that there was negligence. This has been a very tragic case and I am sorry for everyone involved. I suggest that charges of Wrongful Death be dropped."
_____________________________________________

So... the court stuff is awful and yes, I know that. This should get re-written so that the flashbacks and everything take place at a Family Reunion that she decides to get brave enough to go to and her brother (who sued her) thinks she got away with killing his son. It would be pretty explosive. Plus, I've been to lots of family reunions but I've never been to court. Knock on wood.


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## Fru2 (Aug 21, 2018)

@Llyralen I love how it all wraps up at the end, would've expected her to be charged though. I like the sci-fi and fantasy stuff you write better  Here's mine:

We were both sitting on the side of the road, looking at the way the rays of the evening sun were highlighting spots of land through the cloudy sky on the valley before us.

Sierra - "it's very courageous of you to go there all by yourself, I wouldn't even think of leaving the valley"

I know exactly what you're implying, Sierra. You think it's a foolish idea to try to connect with humans. "Yeah, it's just... I keep thinking to myself if this is all there is to life, am I supposed to stay at the same place simply because it's where I belong?"

Sierra's face turned from worry to disappointment, then her face relaxed, saying: "So this is how it is, huh. Hope you will remember us once you're gone"

"You think I'll ever forget you?" I said with a grin. Sierra's eyes lit up, contacted mine. I stood up. "allright, it's supposed to come at any minute now". And there it was, with all its glory, riding towards us, all shining and silvery. "so this is what they call a bus.. it's gigantic". I turned back to Sier- ... she's gone. How did I expect otherwise.

The bus stopped right next to me, with a door magically opening on the side. I've never seen this kind of magic, must be something new. "hey, could I take a look at the window opening scrolls you're using?" I said to the driver.

"The what?! Hahha, where's your mommy, brat? does she know you're waiting for a bus?" Said the driver. I took a step into the vehicle, feeling some kind of high vibrations from its core, ground, is it? or shell? nevermind, I have to teach this person a lesson, this isn't how you talk to a well established trader of the valley who has gained a couple decennia in working experience. Or maybe just let it go, you still depend on his envoy, yeah, that's it.

"Here is my ticket". I handed him the card, the size of it surprised me the moment I received it from our travel ministry. The driver took the card and marked it, saying: "There you go, no hop on, will ya?".

I proceeded to enter the bus corridor. For some reason, the people there looked at me kinda funny, with a couple of long haired ones whispering to one another "Do you think he knows?" -"that's sad, too bad for him" -"Haha". I can hear you, don't you get it? I proceeded to hop onto one of the seats, with my feet hanging in the air and my back far from the back support of the seat, I just looked around.

The air in the bus was unpleasant, it reeked of judgment and superiority. I think that this was the first realization I had that my life abroad would not be as pleasant as I thought it would.

After we got to the big city and reached our destination, we got off the bus, eyes continuously staring at me. Don't they know it's rude to gaze at people? As I started traveling across the main road, I understood. They don't consider me human. They see me as a creature. A bird without feathers. A dog without fur. I felt ashamed, like something was wrong with me. It must be the case, right? As the day went on, I started checking the gazes of people out, immediately averting their eyes and staring onto the ground in front of me. 

In a moment of panic, I stopped my tracks and closed my eyes. There it was... the valley.

Then I felt a couple of taps on my shoulder.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

@Fru2. I really like this. I like the descriptive qualities, I like the conversation and relationship between Sierra and him. I like the “bird without feather. Dog without fur”. Very much. What the heck is he? I wonder. And there is magic and maybe sci-Fi? 
Keep writing!


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## Fru2 (Aug 21, 2018)

It was a chilly evening, at Jane's party. I sat outside her and her roommate's house, breathing in some fresh air, and looking at the lighted pool water, waves of light reflecting on my face. _How could she?_ 

"Keith!" Said Dani, while coming to join me next to the swimming pool. "What's up? Don't enjoy the music?"

I let out a tired and sarcastic laugh "Cut the crap, I know exactly what's going on here."

"I really don't know what you're talking about" Said Sasha, and that, ladies and gentlemen, that was the last straw. _I've had enough of this_

"What the f-ck do you think I am??! HUH?! I'm not some doll you could play with like that.. That's disgusting!... Get out of my face."

Dani, astonished with my sudden directness, showed a shocked smile, saying "I thought-" "You thought?? It's about time you think straight for once!" Dani stopped to look at me, stood up, and walked back inside the house.

"Ugh, there I did it again, she's never going to forget that." I thought to myself. _Regret, really? At a time like this, where you have to stand up for yourself, you care more about how this girl feels, instead of feeling for yourself?_ I grabbed a look into the flat and spotted Sasha talking to Jane, and then our eyes locked. I turned around to face the water again, and heard the sliding door shut down. 

Ah, finally a moment of stillness.. "I know you're mad" Said Jane. "I mean, it's logical. I should have known" _Yeah you should have._ I just let out a sigh, bringing my hands to my eyes, taking a deep breath, and letting go of the hands. She just stood there, beside the pool, looking at the lighted pool water, waves of light reflecting on her face.

"So thats it, huh" I said. Hands covering my face. "You of all people should know how much this opportunity means to me, K." Said Jane. "I thought you would be happy for me." _Don't you dare start crying right now, hold it._ "And I thought you wanted us to be together. What happened to that, huh?" - "We could still do long distance," - "That would never work." - "Fine, you want it? Here is how it is. I have my dreams and inspirations, and being stuck here with you wouldn't fulfill me as much as this career opportunity. I'm sorry, Keith. This is just how it is." _She's right._ I started realizing what a douche I've been this whole time, expecting Jane to be there for me whenever, not wanting her to leave. _I'm selfish. And a hopeless loser._ I felt the shame engulfing me. 

I should really go to sleep, so that's it for now. Kind of half-assed, I know. But it's all about the effort, right?


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

@Fru2. This was an interesting exchange, it took me back to the end of high school. All of those connections, some that had to be cut just to move forward, just to grow up. It would kind of be the climax of a story, this part, I think.


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## Fru2 (Aug 21, 2018)

Llyralen said:


> @Fru2. This was an interesting exchange, it took me back to the end of high school. All of those connections, some that had to be cut just to move forward, just to grow up. It would kind of be the climax of a story, this part, I think.


I actually thought of it more as an opening of a story, since whatever happened before seems kind of obvious. What happens next is something that could be interesting. You haven't posted a lot of stories recently, wanna do another game? You choose whether you want to continue my story or start in a whole new setting. Each user that collaborates needs to continue the story according to how they see it develop, sounds good? 

Any writers that want to join in are more than welcome.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

Alright. Should there be a new thread? The “Continuous story” thread? Yeah... there should be. Maybe with some loose rules? Look for the new thread...


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## Fru2 (Aug 21, 2018)

@Llyralen What about that second chapter of the sci-fi story? I really loved the first part and reallly think you should continue the story :')


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

Fru2 said:


> @Llyralen What about that second chapter of the sci-fi story? I really loved the first part and reallly think you should continue the story :')


Yeah, I did write a second chapter. It kind of freaked my husband out. lol. He said, "This is horror and there is body horror." I was like, "I thought it was just sci-fi. What? I didn't know there was such a genre as body horror!" lol. He then looked online with the following search words: body horror, erotic, and sci-fi zoo. Yeah.... there's a genre for that. LOL Anyway, the body stuff wasn't a big part of the story for me. But after that I stopped writing it. lol.


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## Fru2 (Aug 21, 2018)

Llyralen said:


> Yeah, I did write a second chapter. It kind of freaked my husband out. lol. He said, "This is horror and there is body horror." I was like, "I thought it was just sci-fi. What? I didn't know there was such a genre as body horror!" lol. He then looked online with the following search words: body horror, erotic, and sci-fi zoo. Yeah.... there's a genre for that. LOL Anyway, the body stuff wasn't a big part of the story for me. But after that I stopped writing it. lol.


But that's the most fun part about it! You come up with some crazy ideas sometimes, I absolutely love it. I don't care if it's horror or not, since I already went quite deep on dark fantasies, I was about to post a whole analysis here of what steers and drives me, but I think it's best if I don't affect the narrative of your story, i want to read it as you intended it to be, don't change anything about it. 

Your story has a main conflict, and it's set in such an imaginative and idealistic setting with so many possibilities , I can't help but get absorbed by it. I want to get to that point of darkness, that core of suffering and feeling of desperation, which sparks a new flame in a person's heart. I say keep writing it.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

Fru2 said:


> But that's the most fun part about it! You come up with some crazy ideas sometimes, I absolutely love it. I don't care if it's horror or not, since I already went quite deep on dark fantasies, I was about to post a whole analysis here of what steers and drives me, but I think it's best if I don't affect the narrative of your story, i want to read it as you intended it to be, don't change anything about it.
> 
> Your story has a main conflict, and it's set in such an imaginative and idealistic setting with so many possibilities , I can't help but get absorbed by it. I want to get to that point of darkness, that core of suffering and feeling of desperation, which sparks a new flame in a person's heart. I say keep writing it.


Fru2 that’s awesome.... thanks bud. =)


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

@Gossamerlike


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

It's been a full year since this thread was started and I'm pretty proud of everything that got written by everybody in this thread and also.... I haven't furthered my novels one bit! Lol

New prompt: "This was a crux and the treasure. This was the meeting of light and dark. This was the everything."


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Llyralen said:


> New prompt: "This was a crux and the treasure. This was the meeting of light and dark. This was the everything."


Have you ever been in love with somebody without knowing what they looked like ? I have . His name was Damon Aragon. We have met through our mutual friend Miguel. Miguel was in the army, we often exchange letters to one another- one day Miguel asked me if I could write to his close friend Damon. At first i hesitated ,however after reading Damon's first letter to me , I was smitten by the fact that he was also a fan of Godard films and had a musical background. Somehow through the mist of it I started becoming more excited about receiving letters from Damon more so than from my childhood friend Miguel and apparently Miguel felt same - because he only write to me on Christmas and my birthday. In his letter he joked that he found me my future husband.the idea is far fetched but i wouldn't mind it so much. 

We have been writing to one another for more than 2 years - and just last week we shared our first phone conversations with one another. I can still hear his voice in my ear. 
It was last Tuesday when we first talked , I answered my phone and a soft clear voice asked 
" hi is this Amelia ?" 
" yes, may I ask who this is ?" 
" Guess."
" I dont have time for fun and games. " I told him thinking it was a prank call 
"No no dont hang up - I've waited so long to hear your voice. "
Just then I knew who it was - it was Damon . We ended up talking for hours , unlike other guys he asked me questions about myself and poke fun at his flaws , I felt as if we have known each other forever. He told me that he is coming home next week and he hoped for me to visit him , he was stationed in Michigan- so that means I'll have to take a train to get to him . 
I bought my ticket yesterday and got here early. 
I spent the entire day wondering what to wear and changed outfit at least a dozen times, am I over dressed? Under dressed? I decided that I'll wear my navy blue halter dress with a cardigan and pulled my hair up into a high pony tail .
However when I got to his station he wasn't there . 
"Amelia!" I heard a familiar voice calling out to me , I turned around and saw Miguel . 
" Hey there ! I miss you buddy " he said giving me a hug 
I smiled and asked him " Where is Damon?"
Miguel facial expression changed from excited to sullen . 
" what's wrong ?" I asked 
Miguel sighed deeply " He is here, he is badly injured " 
" I want to see him !" I said
Miguel hesitated then said " ok , I'll take you to him...come on, follow me " 
I followed him down the hall and we went straight into a private room 
Damon was in bed - his face wrapped in white cloth along with his left arm and both his legs . I broke down into tears. 
" hey dont cry ," I heard a familiar voice- this time it was Damon .
" Hey there ," I said as I sat down and grabbed his right hand.
" You look better than I imagined " he said 
I can hear the smile in his soft voice - I looked down at him - his face was mostly covered but I notice he had light green eyes 
" you have green eyes." I sobbed 
He chuckled " I'm not a pretty sight I know, I wish you didn't have to see me this way."
" I dont care , " I told him . My heart breaks to see him like this- my dream guy my soul mate - I've always envisioned him tall and strong- not fragile and dying . 
" how long are you staying ?" He asked 
" I'm not leaving ." I told him 
" I love you for that ." He said lightly grasping my hand. " It's really cold though , do you mind closing the windows?" He asked lightly 
I walked over to close the window and when I came back to bed Damon was already fast asleep. I sat next to him the entire night , the next morning the nurse informed me that he passed away in his sleep. 
" I'm taking his mask off, do you want to see what he looked like. " 
I've waited so long for this - nearly 3 years , to see what he looked like - and finally it was here ... this was a crux and the treasure. This was the meeting of light and dark. This was the everything.
I looked up at the nurse and told her " No, he doesn't want me to see him this way ." I took one last glance at the corpse in front of me and walked away 

Sent from my SM-G955U using Tapatalk


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Llyralen said:


> It's been a full year since this thread was started and I'm pretty proud of everything that got written by everybody in this thread and also.... I haven't furthered my novels one bit! Lol
> 
> New prompt: "This was a crux and the treasure. This was the meeting of light and dark. This was the everything."


Love this thread- definitely my favorite one to look back upon 

Sent from my SM-G955U using Tapatalk


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## Sygma (Dec 19, 2014)

Llyralen said:


> New prompt: "This was a crux and the treasure. This was the meeting of light and dark. This was the everything."



Truth is an alienating concept. Behind the wise words, the applied theories, the behaviors, the fallacies, the poetry, the movements, the rage, the calls, the inspirations, the deceptions ... there'll always be a struggle between your inner light and shadows.

You'll create your own eclipses, shadowing your good deeds, or breaking your bad habits. You'll see diformed people, in faces or sentences and will resent them for not being able to inspire your own need of becoming. You will not know greatness, as your achievements or good judgments will always be criticized by the next analyzing mind en vogue on medium. At most, you'll gather likes or back pats. A higher figure salary. A larger space to fill whatever your ego needs in ever increasing quantity

You will not know true despair, as death takes it all away. You'll be your own sun and moon, forever pondering why one aspect is frightening the other. These are your crux, and the treasure. Knowing that eternity is a pattern of beauty and pain, forever repeated in different languages, in different art forms, in different times ... but you'll always remain the sole architect. The modeler. The artist.

You are your own fate.

Now breathe. It's not so bad, is it ?


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## wums (Nov 25, 2013)

Llyralen said:


> What an awesome moment when you yelled “Never!” All of it had me smiling and remembering what it is like to be a kid @ai.tran.75


Agreed, I couldn't stop smiling as I read it, Arlene's personality shone through so clearly.


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

wums said:


> Agreed, I couldn't stop smiling as I read it, Arlene's personality shone through so clearly.


Thanks  My intention was to write in a kids POV this time around , I’m glad you enjoyed it


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## burningsoul (Jun 23, 2012)

Jason: Yeah, so what is the topic for today?

Malcolm: I don't know, man, this is not working out.

Jason: What are you talking! It is going so well.

Malcolm: What is going well, again?

Jason: This! Talking.

Malcolm: Really? You think this is working?

Jason: I do.

Malcolm: Well, I don't.

Malcolm turned away from Jason.

Jason: Look, man, I need this.

Malcolm turned toward Jason.

Malcolm: Yes. Say it right. Don't say this is working. Say that you need this. That you need me. Say that you have something to learn from me. Say it right.

Jason, humiliated, went quiet. He needed this, this chat, this conversation. He thrived on the heat of a conversation, a disagreement. Malcolm wasn't interested from the start, but he went along for Jason's enthusiasm. After three evenings over a week, the enthusiasm had waned off. Only drab monologues spewed from Jason's mouth. Jason looked at Malcolm contemptuously. He looked at his house. The beautiful glow of a comfortable home gave him no pleasure. He needed excitement in life. His life had been a wreck ever since his girlfriend went out of station for work. Was he always going to be so dependent on other people for, for . . . for what did he need people? What? "Malcolm doesn't need anyone. He does his thing. He reads. He writes. But the bastard has no place to sit. He has no food to eat. Even his clothes are borrowed. He depends on me. But here he sits. And the audacity of telling me that he is doing me a favor. Favor my ass! If he can sit in my house, warmed by my heater, under my light, then I can pick his brain a little." Irritation got the better of Jason, and he switched off the light in the room. Malcolm had been through this before. Malcolm went to the kitchen to continue reading. He was reading a book, Six Guns and Society. The book was more interesting than anything Jason could ever talk.

Energized by the tiny violence he had inflicted in the form of discomfort to his enemy, Jason asked.

Jason: So, what are you reading?

Malcolm: A book.

Jason: Really? A book! What is it about?

Malcolm: Why don't you pick one and read yourself?

Jason: Yeah. Thoughts of other people in other places and ignore the life that is around me.

Malcolm: Pretty much.

Malcolm continued reading.

Jason thought about cooking some soup to release the nervous energy that had built up within. As he put on the stove, Malcolm asked.

Malcolm: What are you cooking?

Jason could not answer. He knew he should have answered. After all, he was preparing for one, and there was going to be none for Malcolm. His voice failed him. He could not utter a word. Malcolm sensed some tension, and he wanted to avoid it. For all his aloofness, Malcolm was a sensitive soul. He just thought Jason needs to develop his half-baked ideas before he starts blabbering about them.

Jason poured the soup into a bowl, and looking at it, Malcolm felt a twitch in his belly. He was hungry. He knew there would be none for him. He relinquished.

Malcolm: So, about what did you want to talk?

Jason: You know that I am writing a story. A thriller. And while I feel thrilled all over my life with nothing going on outside of me, for the life of me, I can't write a word of it.

Malcolm: Why? What do you need?

Jason: For one, I need my girlfriend back.

Malcolm: You have lived with her for years, and you have not published anything. That's not the reason.

Jason: Look, if you insult me, the way you do, it does not help my confidence.

Malcolm: You are writing a thriller, and a character in a thriller gets chased. When he is chased, he does not have confidence. He is being hunted and he has to run for his life.

Jason: There is also a character who chases.

Malcolm: You do not seem like a person who can chase anything. You feel hunted, and if you feel hunted, then you cannot write the hunter.

Jason did not know what to say. On these occasions, he usually slipped into self-pity.

Jason: What is wrong with feeling hunted?

Malcolm: What is wrong is you cannot even properly feel hunted. You toggle between fight and flight, flight, and fight all the time. You do not take the time to explore anything properly.

Jason knew he should have quieted down at this moment, but he had not known self-control.

Jason: Do you know any book on this?

Malcolm: What will you do with a book? Make some soup of it?

Malcolm smirked and said.

Malcolm: Where is my soup?

Jason had not tasted the soup. He felt the bowl of soup slipping away from his hands. He would have to give the soup to Malcolm now. He got up and took the bowl of soup, gave it to Malcolm, and thought, "I just did something that I never believed I would end up doing."


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## burningsoul (Jun 23, 2012)

I have a prompt to write on. But the story has to be a dialogue between two characters. It can have intermittent description but the majority of it should be a dialogue, preferably a disagreement of some kind between two persons (more is allowed). The prompt just needs to appear somewhere in the dialogue. 

Prompt: the audacity to pretend


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## 556155 (Apr 29, 2020)

I overshot, sorry 😅 I couldn't shut up. Stopped randomly at some point in the scenario cause it was so long. 

"I hung up the phone and drove all the way to Manchester in the green Peugeot, worried about the state I would find Andreas into. Had her sister come to visit and thrown a fit again ? I remembered vividly the small stock woman, her raven-black hair and the enormous square pink bag she had outrageously thrown in the street before crumbling on her floor, sucked down by hysteria when he refused to take her in to live with him. Andrea’s voice on the phone was deep and slow as if he had entered yet another dimension of wisdom, which I couldn’t but interpret as a sneakier stage of depression. I hurried under a sudden rain to Andreas’ neighborhood, a patch of dilapidated social housings with broken streetlights where I had never seen a single soul.

It would dawn on me much later than they were shunning my lover’s quiet but strange ways, the slick gait and funny smell emanating from everywhere, the hairs, the clothes’ fabric and the walls of the living room, where an unexplainable wind struck me still as I entered and made me doubt for a split second whether I was in the right place or had just unmasked another reality.


The first thing I saw when I came to my right mind was a stove with an aberrant turmoil of nuts and kale watered with soy sauce. A dense column of black smoke paraded above the hotplate, yet I couldn’t help laughing aloud as I strode towards the bed where he laid angrily chafing his knee, strawberry-strewn apron tucked up above his groin. He looked like a drag concept gone awry.

“You’re trying to get all your D vitamins in one meal ?”

He silenced my attempt at humor with a raised finger. It turned out his bad leg had snapped right under him. He could barely breathe and his knees still trembled from the fall, as they did after love.

“ Bring this” (The mute finger now pointed the cane) “We need to go to the beach.”

“ The beach ?” I had to refrain an instinct to mirror the fingering language and spoke too late, adding to the bizarre sense of dissonance which had accompanied me in spite of the appealing kale and strawberry extravaganza. “You look like you’d benefit more from a trip to the doctor."

“There’s no longer time for that.” He took the cane from my hand with such authority I took a few steps back. “Give me a lift, we’ll talk on the road.”

Yet as the car burrowed into the dusk he remained impassive and I couldn’t bring myself to speak, anxiously waiting for his statuesque half-face to turn and offer some modicum of meaning. Around us the pale purple sky charged with rain morphed and intensified like a fig waiting to burst. After a turn on the avenue to the sea, the bulbs of streetlights hooded with tree leaves irradiated a stabilo green light and unveiled his reflection in the windowpane, the other half of his face now clear as day – the sudden anxiety ravaging his eyes, the eyelids and mouth twitching like spiders caught mid-dream.

I brutally halted the car, just as the sea rode into view.

“Andreas ! ” I put my hand on his shoulders and forced him to look at me but his expression had became formal again. I took a deep breath.“You look lugubrious. Do you want to go out ? ”

“Yes.”

Fortunately the rain has subsided to a meek drizzle. We walked down the wide sand-marbled pier, to sit against the fence of wooden pillars posing like drugged models in front of the void. Andreas was studying the horizon with a slightly disturbing intensity. I laughed, not quite perfectly composed myself.

“And now what ? What are you looking for ?"

“Linda (it was her sister’s name). She’s coming.”

“What ? From where ?”

“Just wait a few more minutes, you’ll see.”

I inanely looked into the same direction, unsure how the erratic vixen I reluctantly remembered would fit in such a still and crystalline landscape. The sea was flawlessly mirroring the silver sky and a the sun, now a vivid pink globe, hung a few inches above the waters.

“ I very much doubt it.”

But I was a fool for expecting an answer. Andreas ignored me, rose to his feet with unexpected bravado and began to remove his shoes and his socks. To my increasing dismay, it soon became blatant his jeans would follow the same fate.

“ What are you doing ? Can you explain me at least this ?”

His penis was now swinging in front of me like a failed joke under the plastic apron.

“It’s better if you see by yourself.”

“I see all there is to see. I’m worried. It’s 10 p.m, Linda’s home, there’s no one here ... Hey ! You’re not going swimming, ain’t you ?”

He had begun to amble towards the sealine and I was following him feeling like a clingy labrador. But he hadn’t time to answer. Just as the sun burst into the ocean, an immense voice ricocheted all around us, yelling Andrea’s name.

I froze and I saw Linda, twice her own height. Her bare torso and wild mane of uncouth hair were emerging from the sea, surrounded by huge radiating tongues of setting sun. She turned two aggrandized pupils at me, like some very myopic, very vengeful high-schooler.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to let him go.” The metallic voice seemed to come from inside my head. I fell on the sand, crunched by the sound as Andreas’ hand slipped from mine. Linda’s voice rung into my ears again.

“You’ll be able to move again soon, Caroline..”

Only then did I realized that my limbs were paralyzed, trapped into some sandy spell. I watched helplessly as Andrea’s walked towards the sea, at a firm’s pace first, then increasingly slower, as a picture in slow motion. Suddenly, his legs looked boneless, almost liquid : they flickered a few seconds on the edge of the sea before he stumbled into the water. He turned his head, locked his eyes deep into mine.

“I’m sorry, Caroline.”

My heart rose like a bursting peach. He hadn’t looked at me like that for – how long ? I had lost the count of lustless days. My tongued was charmed still, and thus I answered him with the most piercing and loudest silence. He seemed to understand. But what he understood I couldn’t say.

“ I wished I had the audacity to pretend I’m coming back.” He cracked a smile deformed by pain. “ I must ask you one thing if you let me.”

Yes.

“ Look at it for real. Just once.”

The repulsive sight trapped in my memory has been floating at the edges of my sight since days and it was floating once again, just below, past the sought-after face and the apron, just below where the frail legs had once been.

I yelled.

It was a massive merman tail, clammy, thick and greenish.

_( ...)_


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## 556155 (Apr 29, 2020)

Next possible prompt : anything this photography will inspire you.


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## burningsoul (Jun 23, 2012)

YvonneZemski said:


> Next possible prompt : anything this photography will inspire you.
> 
> View attachment 869917


can you post a larger version of the image. Can't see expressions on the face.

Nevermind.


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

burningsoul said:


> I have a prompt to write on. But the story has to be a dialogue between two characters. It can have intermittent description but the majority of it should be a dialogue, preferably a disagreement of some kind between two persons (more is allowed). The prompt just needs to appear somewhere in the dialogue.
> 
> Prompt: the audacity to pretend



Phone rings 
“Hello?” Picks up 
“ Hey Chelsie !” 
Click .dial tone . Phone rings again.
“Hello?”
“Chelsea dear - you better not hang up on me or else I’ll drive over .”
“ Ugh mom I don’t feel like talking right now !” 
“ Why are you so mad at me ?” 
“ You told Nathan that I want to go out to dinner with him .”
“ He told me that he finds you attractive.”
“I don’t find him attractive.”
“ Chelsie you’re turning 30 next month - your time is up, if you don’t find a partner now you may never have kids .”
“ I’m hanging up ...”
“ Nathan is a great catch - he drives a Tesla and has his own house and he has his eyes on you . What’s the harm in going on one date with him?”
“ I am perfectly capable of being alone and I don’t need a man in my life ...more so if the man looks and acts like my own mother !” 
“ Now now dear - you do know that most of your friends are settled with kids already or are in long term relationship, I’m just doing you a favor - you’re going to be over the hill soon ... no man wants a wife over 30 , you’re lucky that Nathan asked about you and if he’s anything like me then you’re even luckier - I raised you and you turned out fine. “
“ Exactly that’s why I don’t need a man in my life .”
“ But I really like Nathan.”
“Then why won’t you go out on a date with him then.”
“Chelsie that’s no way to talk to your mother !”
“Look mom - I’m sick and tired of your concerns . I’ve told you many times over that I am not interested in dating anyone as of this moment and it’s likely that I’ll never get elope . I have no attraction towards Nathan and I would appreciate it if you were to not bug into my personal life .”
“ Oh please - I know you’re being prideful right now you have the audacity to pretend that nothing is wrong but deep down you’re lonely.”
“ I’m fine mom.”
“ I saw your profile on okcupid and e-harmony .”
“ That’s enough !” Click. Dial tone . Phone rang again 
“ Mom I said enough already !”
“ Mom ? I didn’t know my voice sounded that feminine .”
“ I’m sorry who is this ?”
“ It’s Charles .”
“ Charles ? I haven’t heard from you since senior year of high school , what’s up?” 
“I bumped into your mom at the grocery store and she gave me your number said that you were single and looking ... hello ? Hello? Chelsie are you there ?“ 
Click . Dial tone. 


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

YvonneZemski said:


> Next possible prompt : anything this photography will inspire you.
> 
> View attachment 869917




“ Hey taxi! Wait !” I said chasing after the yellow cab but it disappeared into the night fog . I shouldn’t have gone out so late , I thought to myself. I looked down at my phone and realized that it was out of battery . “Just my luck “ I murmured to myself . 
I walked across the streets and notice that a few block down the lights were still on in the Claremont Hotel , perhaps I could ask the receptionist to let me use the phone I thought to myself . Why do I always get myself into trouble. 
Just then I heard the sky rumbling and it started raining . 
“Great just great !” I said hugging onto my UC Berkeley sweatshirt - suddenly ! I felt a cold wind behind me but as I turned around I saw a man in his early 30s with an umbrella standing behind me . 
“ It’s awfully dark and foggy tonight , why are you out so late ?” He asked in a British accent “ Come here before you catch a cold from the rain .” 
He said “ Don’t worry , I won’t hurt you .”
I looked at him and then at the foggy street of Berkeley- I suppose it’s safer to be next to this stranger . He was lean, tall and elegant looking.
“ Im walking over to the Claremont Hotel ,” I informed him 
“ I’ll walk with you.” He said kindly.
“ Actually...can I borrow your celll phone ?” 
“ I don’t have a cellphone, sorry . But I can walk with you to the hotel, I see you have a Berkeley sweatshirt on .”
“ You went there ?” 
“ I did .” He said “ I took a psych class.”
“Im a psych major ! “ I said “ Did you have any classes with Professor Chiovarelli ? He’s was the reason I became a psych major .” 
“Tell me about it .” He said 
We walked and talked for a while and I felt an instant connection with this British stranger- despite barely meeting him just a few moment ago . I told him that I was partying with some friends and was the last to leave the party thinking that I could Uber - only to find out that my phone ran out of battery . I mentioned the mishap of chasing after the yellow cab and we laughed about it. 
“ It was the weirdest party yet - people were dressed as if it was the 50s/60s but I enjoy vintage and all those old fashion stuff.”
“ The 50s/60s isn’t as vintage as say the 1900s.” He joked 
“Well that’s Victorian .” I said “ But yeah - I was too busy texting on my phone instead of enjoying the party so by the time the party was over - everyone left and I realized I didn’t have enough battery to Uber - and then well you know the rest - I tried calling the cab driver but he drove off .” 
“ I’m forgetful myself .” He said “ In fact if I didn’t see you drench in the dark I wouldn’t even know how or when I got here either .” He said 
“ Why are you here so late ? I asked him, “ it’s after midnight.”
“ I’m a night owl - I sleep during the day .” He winked at me 
“ What are you a vampire?” I joked 
“ Maybe .” He chuckled and smile at me - he had a great dimple smile
“ I don’t see any fangs .” I teased him 
“ I’m harmless.” He said to me “But you should be careful around here. “Did you know that the Claremont Resort used to be a castle but it got burned down and then rebuilt later ? A man built the house for his wife and daughter but unfortunately his wife passed away.” 
“ No way , that’s pretty romantic, building a castle for your significant other.”
“ It is pretty romantic huh ? Now it’s just a haunted hotel .” 
“ Haunted - are you scared ?” 
He chuckled, “ No but a young lady like you shouldn’t be alone , it’s not safe to be here at this time .” 
“ Its Berkeley, I know, my friends car got broken into the other day .” 
“ Be careful around this city at night .” 
“ Lucky for me , I have you here .” I said 
He smiled at me “ I’m not always here though .”
I walked closer to him to get some heat but it was still freezing , it’s always cold here “ It’s cold alright , by the way my name is Madeline, what’s yours?”
“ William Thornburg .” He smiled
“Thornburg - your last name sounds familiar.”
“ Look it up later .” He said with a wink 
“ Well we’re here now , so I better leave .” He said .
I walked into the hotel only to realized that I was holding William’s black umbrella. 
I ran back outside looking for him “ Will ! Will! You forgot your umbrella silly !” I shouted out but he had already disappeared.
I walked into the hotel lobby and asked the receptionist if I could borrow the phone , called my sister to pick me up . 
As I was waiting , I smiled at the thought of the handsome stranger whom had kept me company and looked down at my umbrella and saw the word Thornburg carved on it. 
I woke up the next morning , I decided to google more about William Thornburg- not much came up for his name , but I learned that there was a Will Thornburg who used to own the Claremont castle back in the 1900s, he built the castle for his wife and daughter . 
“ That’s odd why would he tell me his name is William .” I said to myself 
I searched for the picture of this William and realized that he looked identical to the gentleman that have helped me in the rain .


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Prompt “ What are you doing here ?”

Or continue a story that you have written on here already 



Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk


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## burningsoul (Jun 23, 2012)

I promise I will continue to be active here after my exam which is on the sixth.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

burningsoul said:


> I promise I will continue to be active here after my exam which is on the sixth.


What’s your exam? And yay that you plan to write more!


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## Perlanthesis (Oct 30, 2020)

YvonneZemski said:


> Next possible prompt : anything this photography will inspire you.
> 
> 
> https://www.personalitycafe.com/attachments/869917/
> ...


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## 556155 (Apr 29, 2020)

That was very good, actually ! Tender and witty, I just love how funny your dialogues are and how you movingly describe the sibling relationship.


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## Perlanthesis (Oct 30, 2020)

YvonneZemski said:


> That was very good, actually ! Tender and witty, I just love how funny your dialogues are and how you movingly describe the sibling relationship.


Why thank you!

This prompt could have took an entirely different turn because I had too many possibilities around in my head. With the dark tone and setting I was either going to write one of three things:

1. A weary husband and a bossy wife on the brink of divorce and actually divorcing over a failed birthday party.

2. A possible dark birthday mystery because of the third pair extra of foot steps and nobody being there 

3. Retired musicians (from the piano) celebrating the birthday of a deceased friend who came back to celebrate with them (after death).

It turned out to be neither of these things and somehow turned a bit more lighthearted then I thought which is a good thing because sometime I write stories that get a bit convoluted and dark.


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## 556155 (Apr 29, 2020)

Perlanthesis said:


> Why thank you!
> 
> This prompt could have took an entirely different turn because I had too many possibilities around in my head. With the dark tone and setting I was either going to write one of three things:
> 
> ...


Haha I love those ideas. Particularly n°2.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

I couldn't find this thread today for a WHILE and that worried me, so I've got to bump this thread. No choice. This thread is too important.


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## KindaSnob! (Nov 15, 2020)

*Prompt: *While you are facing life-changing moment beside somebody you love (make up whatever situation you want) in the middle of a city you live in, the city is suddenly teemed with swarm of grasshoppers.


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## letsrunlikecrazy (Sep 21, 2015)

“Annalee Michaels, will you marry me?”

Frank’s eyes were glistening moistly, his slightly upturned nose pink and quivering ever so slightly.

“Oh my God, yes! Yes!”

I squealed in delight as he adjusted the white gold diamond(?) ring onto my ring finger. The photographer snapped our photo – me ecstatic on my feet, Frank nearly crying on bended knee.

Frank stood back up and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I love you,” he whispered in my ear.

“I love you, too,” I said, but my words were drowned out in a deafening cacophony.

Wagner’s “Flight of the Valkyries” was blasting from the rooftop restaurant’s speakers. From every set of speakers in town, in fact.

“What… the… frick?” I saw Frank’s mouth forming the words, but I didn’t hear a single syllable.

The patrons around us were screaming, covering their ears. Luckily, Frank and I were fans of dubstep, and immune to further auditory damage.

Suddenly, all the speakers went dead. There was blissful silence, at first.

Then, the buzzing.

The beating of a hundred thousand wings from a swarm of biblical proportions.

The swarm of flying insects grew from a fist-sized blot in the distance to an enormous sheet blanketing the entire horizon.

“RUN!” Frank screamed at me, pushing me toward the exit.

The exit was already being mobbed by dozens of restaurant staff and diners, all desperately trying to flee. I saw a man headbutt another to get ahead.

Frank screamed out in existential agony.

I grabbed his arm and ran toward the emergency staircase, where a group of diners was already booking it down to the ground. We descended the stairs in a blind panic, a writhing mass of fear on legs.

By the time we made it down the three flights, the streets were in pandemonium. Display windows had been smashed, car alarms were ringing, and several buildings were on fire. Crowds of people were running down the boulevard and forcing their way into any shelter they could find.

All this we observed through a thickening haze of beating wings and infernal buzzing, as the swarm came for us all. I could feel the crawling of hundreds of tiny feet on my face, hands, and wrists, and pain where the razor-like wings left tiny cuts on my skin.

“RUUUUUUUUU-U-U-U-U-U-U-NNNN!!!!”

Frank pushed me in the direction of the clamoring crowd. His eyes were wet with tears, his gaze fixed on mine.

“Frank, I can’t leave without you!”

“Yes, you can! I love you, Annalee Michaels! I’ll never forget you!”

“Frank, this is insane! Come with me!”

“Save yourself, I’ll hold them back!”

I punched him in the face and dragged him with me back inside the restaurant. There were already half a dozen people clustered inside, shuttering the windows and smacking at the roving insects with menus.

(Note: Added this bit later because the change in tone seemed way too abrupt, even if this is a shitpost...)

* *





"WHERE ARE YOUR WEAPONS?" I shouted to the startled bartender.
"W-what?"
Frank grabbed him by the collar. "WE ARE THE LAST OF HUMANITY! WE MUST FIGHT TO THE BITTER END!"

The bartender gave him the stank eye. "Shit, son, they're just grasshoppers."

"What?"

An old-timer seated at the bar nodded in agreement with the bartender. "Uh huh. They'll move on soon enough. Just stay inside, they're not out to get ya."

"But I've never seen anything like this before," I said.

"Yeah, me neither," the bartender said. "But I checked the news, they said it's no big deal. This happens sometimes, it's their mating season or something."

"Oh, I've seen this before, alright," said the old-timer.

The bartender gave an annoyed sigh. "You've seen everything before, Earl."

Earl turned around on his stool to face us. His furrowed eyebrows were white and bristly, his mustache large and imposing. The deep lines on his weathered face spoke of hardship and adventure.

His voice was hushed and measured as he began to regale us with his tale.

"It was the summer of '86. Me and my boys Ray, Jack, Big Jack, Lil' Jack and Steve were out by the lake, fishin' and sippin' Jack Daniels and listening to honky-tonk tunes on Big Jack's lil' portable radio..."

"Shut it, Earl. Nobody wants to hear your stories while sober."

"Ya don't gotta be mean about it, Carl."

"Well don't just sit on your ass, help me clean up these broken plates. Damn tourists stampeded out of here and left the place a mess."




The grasshoppers were mostly gone in an hour. Some lingered, congregating on open surfaces and hopping in a leisurely fashion.

Frank and I made our way home, to our little two-bedroom bungalow on Peach Tree Avenue. We got cleaned up and disinfected each other’s wounds with soft cotton balls to the sound of Billie Holiday playing from the living room stereo.

We cuddled in close that night, gazing soulfully into each other’s eyes.

“Baby,” Frank whispered, his eyes alight with love. “I’ll always put you first.”

“I know, baby,” I said. “And I’ll always be there for you.”

“Even if I’m…”

He turned into a grasshopper.


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## KindaSnob! (Nov 15, 2020)

letsrunlikecrazy said:


> “Annalee Michaels, will you marry me?”
> 
> Frank’s eyes were glistening moistly, his slightly upturned nose pink and quivering ever so slightly.
> 
> ...


 
🤭


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## ENFPurpleKitti (Mar 20, 2017)

burningsoul said:


> I promise I will continue to be active here after my exam which is on the sixth.


heheh, i keep telling myself that and failing... (well not the exam part... and not the date, either... you get what i mean.)


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## ENFPurpleKitti (Mar 20, 2017)

as far as i know, i havent written anything in this thread yet... is it okay to just throw something in and let it stand by itself, or does it still have to follow a given prompt? or can i cheat and make a prompt that fits the theme of my story and post the story like that?


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## burningsoul (Jun 23, 2012)

ENFPurpleKitti said:


> as far as i know, i havent written anything in this thread yet... is it okay to just throw something in and let it stand by itself, or does it still have to follow a given prompt? or can i cheat and make a prompt that fits the theme of my story and post the story like that?


Yeah, cheating is fun! But too much of it and it doesn't feel like cheating anymore. There are no examiners here. So.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

ENFPurpleKitti said:


> as far as i know, i havent written anything in this thread yet... is it okay to just throw something in and let it stand by itself, or does it still have to follow a given prompt? or can i cheat and make a prompt that fits the theme of my story and post the story like that?


For sure go right ahead! I hope you wrote something and I hope you've still go it to show us! The writing is the important part! Rules? There are no rules!


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## burningsoul (Jun 23, 2012)

I cannot write a smaller piece anymore. I have to write my bigger story. It just doesn't feel right personally. I owe it. To myself, to writing. To dedication. TO whatever is worthwhile out there. Am I allowed to vent a little bit about my struggles with writing here? Maybe not. But it is always good to ask.


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## letsrunlikecrazy (Sep 21, 2015)

burningsoul said:


> I cannot write a smaller piece anymore. I have to write my bigger story. It just doesn't feel right personally. I owe it. To myself, to writing. To dedication. TO whatever is worthwhile out there. Am I allowed to vent a little bit about my struggles with writing here? Maybe not. But it is always good to ask.


This inspired me to come up with a prompt:

*You have decided you are not satisfied with a single slice. No, nothing will satisfy you but the whole pie.*


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## Perlanthesis (Oct 30, 2020)

*Prompt

You have decided you are not satisfied with a single slice. No, nothing will satisfy you but the whole pie.


The Whole Pie, 
and Nothing but the Pie. *

By: *Perlanthesis*

As you stare at your stargazy pie it stares back at you. You may ask how can a pie stare? It is not a sentient being. This where you’re very much wrong.
My pie is very alive and very much alone by itself as a slice. As my cerulean blue eyes stare at the pie a pair of lackluster beady grey eyes of a fish stare back. A single and desolate fish shoved into a pie as someone’s dinner.

“Quit having a staring contest with the pie?”

The rough voice interrupts your monologue as Morgue your boss comes out with a basket of fish. His real name is not morgue but his fish market never seems to run out of fish seemingly with a everlasting supply even during winter and tsunami season. It’s like he is a fish killer or something. Business is always going well so well in fact the their market vendors give him hateful looks. Many market vendors became jealous and nicknamed him (fish) morgue. In fact, you are not sure if you even remember his name since you always call him boss or “Morgue” in secret.

You run over to help without needing to be asked and Morgue raises a single thick eyebrow.

”You’re being unusually nice today mi piace meno.”

I raise a thin and shaved eyebrow back at him.

"I don’t know what you mean बूढ़ा आदमी."

I help him place the basket of fish on the table.

”Is there anything else you need me to do today good sir” Ugh, my cheery tone sounds fake even to my own ears.

Morgue turns his head away from checking yesterday‘s sales in the ledger to send a pointed glare in my direction.

"Cough it up Balasubmarine. What do you want?"

Despite wanting to please him I couldn’t help but correct him on instinct.

“It’s Balaaa-subraaa-ma-nian” my voice comes out a bit sharper then I intended but its been a long day so give me a break!

“Your point Submarine?”

I bite back a retort and state my request.

“ I want to take a day off work from the fish market”

Morgue gives me a pensive look.
I stand my ground, back straight, eyes wide, and stare back.

“It’s not that I don’t want to give you a day off but it’s Friday and the market is most busy during this time.

“I know, I know, I'm sorry” my tone ends up practically seeping with apology.

"You’re so hardworking. Too an extreme I would say. You love working here. When I leave you even stay behind to clean up and check up on the supplies. You never take a day off. Why do you suddenly want a day off now?"

Dread curls up my spine.
I know there is only one answer I can give
and it will blow his dhakkan off.
I take a deep breath and prep for damage control.

”I want to take a day off because...
I have to go, you know, do something...”

Morgue practically takes the the hint, swallows it, and pretends he never noticed it as he continues his interrogation.

I know his next question.
I really do not want to do this.
I really, really do not wanna do this.
Someone anyone, Subrahmanya spare me of this.

“And this something is?“

“And this something is...is....uhhh”

”Spit it out Submarine.
No information. No break“

His tone is final with no room for arguments so I break it all to him in one breath.

“Th-Thissomethingis...is
IHAVETOGOFISHING!!!"

He stares at me partially shocked and partially quite insulted like I stole his pride as a fish vendor by resurrecting all the dead fish in his market and coercing them to start a revolution. He takes his fish *very very *seriously.

"My *dear* employee
We are in a fish market.
*In fact, I *_o_wn a fish market
which *you* happening to be standing on
and oh, *look* even *working* at.
IS *MY* FISH NOT ENOUGH?"

He gets louder and more and more worked up. Unsurprisingly, he blows his dhakkan off and let us just say the the truth does not end up becoming the loudest thing said that day.


*Note:*


The title is a reference to the swearing testimony used for witnesses in court that goes "I Swear to Tell the Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing But the Truth". I just replaced most words with pie.


I wasn't sure whether I want my main character to be male or female so I kept it ambiguous.


I know very little about Indian culture and most of the things I wrote in here like the language was found from the internet so I apologize for any culture inconsistencies. I wanted to include hints to an alternate culture but I also know very little about it.


Dhakkan means lid in Indian as in in I blow my lid off (I.e. get crazily angry)


The last name Balasubramanian originates from Subrahmanya which is the Indian goddess of war. It is also an allusion to preparing to go into a metaphorical war against Morgue by telling him the truth.


Mi piace meno- My least favourite as in my least favourite employee.


बूढ़ा आदमी-Nosy old man


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## KindaSnob! (Nov 15, 2020)

Perlanthesis said:


> *Prompt
> 
> You have decided you are not satisfied with a single slice. No, nothing will satisfy you but the whole pie.
> 
> ...


👏👏👏


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## letsrunlikecrazy (Sep 21, 2015)

Perlanthesis said:


> *Prompt
> 
> You have decided you are not satisfied with a single slice. No, nothing will satisfy you but the whole pie.
> 
> ...


loled at Balasubmarine. I like the random poems, very fun. 👏👏👏


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

ai.tran.75 said:


> I was walking along ocean beach as I notice something oblong floating from the surface ...
> " great plastic in the water ," I said as I picked up the bottle .....I notice that there's something white- like a note inside of it. Suddenly noltagia took over and I was taken back to 2006.
> 
> 2006
> ...


@Llyralen 
@burning soul @wums - I’m thinking of writing a play inspired this story what do you guys think ? 


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## burningsoul (Jun 23, 2012)

ai.tran.75 said:


> I’m thinking of writing a play inspired this story what do you guys think ?


I am not sure where you want to go from here. You said it'd be a romantic comedy. What direction it would be? Develop it a little bit more.


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

burningsoul said:


> I am not sure where you want to go from here. You said it'd be a romantic comedy. What direction it would be? Develop it a little bit more.


it’s just an idea for a short play this is a less than 10 minute writing piece i did for alesha’s prompt 


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## burningsoul (Jun 23, 2012)

How long will the play be?


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

ai.tran.75 said:


> it’s just an idea for a short play this is a less than 10 minute writing piece i did for alesha’s prompt
> 
> 
> Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk


For sure! If your subconscious says there is a play here, then there is a play here. It would be an awesome animation wouldn’t it? It’s interesting how different plays and visual story telling is from book reading where the plot doesn’t have to involve as much action. You’ve got the magic!


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## wums (Nov 25, 2013)

ai.tran.75

I agree with @Llyralen if you feel the spark then that's what matters. And I think a message in a bottle could be a great theme for a play once you flesh it out. Is it directly inspired by your short story? Like maybe they would meet again? I'm curious to see where you would take it.


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

Prompt: Pick a time, event, or person from history and write about yourself being there.


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## WickerDeer (Aug 1, 2012)

Hm...

This morning he seemed in an unusual hurry--he didn't dine with anyone downstairs for breakfast, which was typical--but it was unusual to see him shuffle through the dining hall while others were still eating their eggs and sausage, his easel and canvas awkwardly weighing him to one side, like a hermit crab that has taken a shell too big for it.

He let the door slam shut as he left and mother rolled her eyes. She felt sorry for him but she never approved of him at the same time--his intense stare in the rare times he made eye contact, his strange reclusion, his hunched posture--like he was guarding his heart from slipping from his chest.

Mother didn't like him, I knew, but I couldn't help but be curious about where he was going. I'd seen some of his paintings before--the bright colors he used pleased me. They didn't look like reality or like many of the other more respectable paintings that hung in people's houses. I wondered if he really saw things like that--there are times when I've had a moment of pleasure and relaxation, and the clouds seemed to open up and when the light filtered down just at that moment, the colors of flowers or grass or trees seemed to burst with vibrancy. 

I really liked it when that happened, but most of the time it didn't--most of the time the world took on the grey hue of the overcast sky. And the inside of my family's inn was even darker and more dreary than that, perhaps because I had to be there every day mopping it, wiping the dust off the polished wood baseboards, cleaning the greasy spills that fell from guests spoons and mouths as they ate. I absentmindedly wiped a grease spot from the table while still watching the door where he'd left from, as if I hoped to be able to see through it, to follow him out into the hills where he'd be setting up his easel and opening up his tin of paints...I wondered what he'd come back with this evening, if it wasn't too late, maybe I could catch a glimpse of what he'd seen out there, though he usually didn't stop to talk coming in either...he was usually a little more friendly in the morning than he was in the evening, which was one reason why I felt disappointed by his lack of regard.

I rubbed the last bit of grease into the wood with the towel I used, and went out back to put the rag in the bin. One of the neighbor family's dogs was sniffing around the bucket and I realized I'd forgotten to save him some food scraps this morning as I'd been so lost in thought. I shooed him away though, as I knew if he got ahold of one of the rags he'd surely get a kick or a smack by one of the washerwomen, and I didn't like to see him cower even more as he seemed to hunch his back legs more with every passing day and his tail was almost always between them, except when I brought him a little bit of egg or tomato from a guest's dirty plate. 

---------------

That was fun! I was trying to write about Vincent Van Gogh's last day alive, but I don't want to write about the part where he comes back with the gunshot wound. I want to start writing again for fun, so this was a nice prompt to get some of that out and just loosen up and get some words out.

I am not going to edit it now because I am going to do something else. But it was fun to just spew.

I don't really know much about this period or the people involved, but I was pleased to find that some of the ways I imagined it also seemed to be correct--like Van Gogh was staying at an inn, and he did a painting of the inn owner's daughter...and he did eat together with others sometimes. So idk--not much of this is accurate.









Auberge Ravoux - Wikipedia







en.wikipedia.org


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## ai.tran.75 (Feb 26, 2014)

Llyralen said:


> Prompt: Pick a time, event, or person from history and write about yourself being there.




I was walking home from work when the hail storm occurred, I should’ve left an hour earlier but I ended up taking some personality test that took longer than expected . 
“Just my luck ..” I thought to myself “Why did i decided to walk.” Oh yeah because it was sunny and bright this morning . 
“Ouch !” I exclaimed as I felt hails hitting down onto my shoulder blade - I started running down Bryant street when I realized that the stop light was red . I stopped for a few seconds and covered my head with my arms , I felt the phone in my pocket vibrating. 
“ Hello?”
“ Mommy where are you ?” I heard my son voice on the other line “ I’m hungry .”
“ I’m almost home sweetie , my boss needed me to work an extra hour !” I said and without thinking I impulsively ran across the streets - I saw a bus driving towards me and the next thing I knew everything went completely black . 
Oh it’s because my eyes are close , silly me . I opened my eyes and saw that it had stopped raining , the sky was miraculously bright and as I looked down I saw that I was walking on clouds . 
“Am I in heaven?” I asked myself . 
“ Not yet , we are at heaven’s gate , Saint Peter will decide whether you get to go in or not, I’m Roger by the way .” 
I looked up and saw an old man around 70 years old , smiling at me , he was wearing a white night gown -in front of him stood many more people wearing the same white gown .
“ We all wear the same night gowns here in the afterlife .” Roger told me “ I hope they have films here in the afterlife. When’s the last time you saw a movie at the cinema?” 
Before I could answer him we were interrupted by a loud thunder 
“God damnit ! “ We heard a voice shouting .

“ Let me guess , he is going to hell.” 
“ He’s not going to heaven .” The old man chuckled. 
“How long have we been here ?” 
“There’s no time in the afterlife .”
“Oh yeah then why are we waiting.” 
We both laughed 
“ What’s your cause of death ?” I asked him 
“I had thyroid cancer , couldn’t talk for 6 years , suddenly here I am walking and feeling great what about you ?”
“ Hail - giant pieces of hail falling from the sky .” I replied.
“ I’m next .” Roger said saluting me 
I watched him for a while and heard a man’s voice saying “ Siskel is here as well , he’s been anticipating to see you .”

“ Next !” I heard a soft mellow voice calling out to me 
I walked up to the gate and saw Saint Peter standing there 
“ What’s your name ?”
“Serena Garcia.”
“ Ah yes , Serena Garcia, 39 years old , cause of death Jay Walking, lied to her son that she’s working late but was on her phone taking a personality quiz ....hmmm you lied and break the rule right before you passed away , why should I let you into heaven ?” 
“ Saint Peter , don’t be so quick to judge , didn’t you lie to the holy ghost 3 times before as well ?”
“Ah ... that’s right , that was so long ago ...but you’re right ..ok ok you convinced me, come on in.” 
“ I have never lied in my prayers to God .”
“You’re an atheist, don’t push it .” he said with a wink as he opened the gate . 


place /event ( Heaven ) 

time April 4,2013 

the other part is self explanatory  


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

ai.tran.75 said:


> I was walking home from work when the hail storm occurred, I should’ve left an hour earlier but I ended up taking some personality test that took longer than expected .
> “Just my luck ..” I thought to myself “Why did i decided to walk.” Oh yeah because it was sunny and bright this morning .
> “Ouch !” I exclaimed as I felt hails hitting down onto my shoulder blade - I started running down Bryant street when I realized that the stop light is red . I stopped for a few seconds and covered my head with my arms , I felt the phone in my pocket vibrating.
> “ Hello?”
> ...


Ai, that was so charming! So that was Roger Siskel, very cool! Ahh… fun fun fun!


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## Llyralen (Sep 4, 2017)

I always come back to this thread. =)


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