T. Dagarim's picture
T. Dagarim from Atlanta, GA August 8, 2016 - 11:15am

We could all use more practice with writing from prompts. With that in mind, I'd like to start a bit of an experiment on here. By writing a couple of paragraphs in each post, I'd be interested to see what kind of crazy story we can collaboratively come up with (the preceding posts are your promts). There's no direction given; this could end up being a comedy, action, horror, mystery or just plain weird.

The rules are simple:

1. Copy and Paste the last line of the post you're continuing from (This is required in case multiple people are writing from the same precedign post at once.).

2. Write a couple, few, or however many paragraphs, based on all the preceding posts and continue in the canon of the story.

3. If two posts are based on the same preceding post, the next poster has the option of which of the two to use as the prompt.

4. Nothing is off limits. Shock us. Make us laugh, cry, scratch our eyeballs out from the horror. Destiny is yours.

5. Don't worry about it being perfect. This is for fun, and no one will be submitting this for critique. It's your chance to write without inhibitions.

 

I'll start:

Buried under 157 feet of sand somewhere in the middle of the Egyptian desert are the heiroglyphics that prove humanities ties to extraterrestrial beings. Locked in a fire-proof safe in a small shitty apartment in Chicago is the only existing film that proves there was more than one JFK shooter. In the digestion of a 15 foot Great White shark, somewhere off the coast of California, is a tiny fish containing the genetic sequence which will lead to a new form of treatment for all cancers and genetic abnormalities. An effective cure for humanity's frailty.

And I can't get a decent 8th in this incestuous cesspool of a town. Just some dried out brick shit I bought off a gamer in the parking lot.

So I light up, knowing today is my last day on earth.

Thuggish's picture
Thuggish from Vegas is reading Day of the Jackal August 8, 2016 - 12:42pm

So I light up, knowing today is my last day on earth.

You might think this is one of those who-dun-it stories. Or revenge things, where I kill the guy who already killed me. Well, I've seen that movie more than once, and I intend to make the next twenty-four hours much more exciting and original.

You see, I already know who killed me. It was me. I never was going to lead a life full of purpose anyway, so why prolong the pointlessness? I'm making this video to make a point. They say you never really live until you say you're going to die. Something like that.

Well, I'm sure as shit going to die now. So let's get to living. 

Hour One...

Jose F. Diaz's picture
Jose F. Diaz from Boston is reading Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel August 8, 2016 - 12:57pm

Hour One...

There is the familiar reluctance of starting a new day despite knowing how it will end. Like my parents did when I was young, I count everything. My first breath, my first step, the first time I've ever seen myself in a mirror. Each first is one step closer to my last. And then my second, and then my third. And I lose track of the numbers as I think about losing track of numbers. My entire life, wasted thinking about all the things I should have done instead of just doing them.

Sweet excitement knowing that it'll all be over. Soon. It is freeing, and somber. Why couldn't I have been this alive before I decided to die? Before I did die. Was I even alive until now? Does the past matter? It is now, and I am wasting more time. Time to move.

A thought strikes me, what if someone kills me before I get a chance to do it?

T. Dagarim's picture
T. Dagarim from Atlanta, GA August 15, 2016 - 7:46am

A thought strikes me, what if someone kills me before I get a chance to do it?

No, this is mine. It's my life. It's my death. And it's my mother fucking story, so listen up.

Not that anyone would have a particular reason to kill me, except maybe Kyle. And not a good reason. And just for your own edification, business partners means business partners, not you sell the shit and give me a shit load of the cash. No, Kyle, fuck you. And if I didn't already have today planned, I'd be taking you out when I go.

But Kyle has nothing to do with today.

Today is about me. About what I want. What I need.

I wash the 3-day coke binge off my face, throw my clothes on, eat a bowl of cereal, choke on shitty Mexican brick for the last time, and leave my apartment with my bag. Exibit D, for future reference. You'd like to know what's in it, right? Well, if I told you that, it'd spoil all the fun. Plus, who doesn't love a good old fashioned mystery? A mystery shrouded in shits and giggles. No, you don't get to know that yet. Let's just say I have everything I need.

Hour Two...