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Post by Nate on Apr 2, 2012 10:36:24 GMT -5
Ok, let's try something. The story I was going to post here for a collective writing, I'm actually continuing to write that myself since I liked what I came up with. I want to try a collective story here, and this may totally implode, but we'll see.
Here are the rules. You can contribute to the story as much as you want, but your contributions can't be consecutive and each contribution is limited to five sentences.
Example: Nate writes the first five sentence of the story. Now, anyone else but me can write the next five sentences of the story. Then I can come back and write the next five sentences of the story if I want.
Again, overall, contribute as much as you like, but it has to be nonconsecutive, and you don't have to write five sentences each time. You could just write one if you wanted.
Please copy the previous sentences into your post and add yours on.
Join in the fun or pain, however you view it!
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Post by Nate on Apr 2, 2012 10:45:57 GMT -5
I will have the first five sentences up shortly, but if you beat me to it than you're more than welcome to start us off! I'll just start a second one.
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Post by Nate on Apr 2, 2012 12:24:33 GMT -5
So here's a start. This actually is based on the original piece I was working on to be a collective fiction. Let's see if it goes anywhere of if I have to finish it myself. When you add more, copy my lines into your post. At the end of your section, please add your name in parentheses (see below). Don't worry about editing much right now, just get something going. I just wrote down what came into my head and didn't really edit it afterwards, just to fix a couple of errors. Title? Her hair was the same color as Annika's and her eyes as astonishingly blue. Christof was certain of that as he studied the painting's improbable details. The portrait, a striking young red-haired woman (one of many legends said she was duchess) in a dark green gown, hung above the mantle of a large fireplace in a crumbling old manor at the edge of the Salzach River. Her name had long since been forgotten but everyone in the city knew her. Now that Annika had left, he felt a new kinship with the painting, one he had not felt, or noticed, in all the years he had seen it. (Nate)
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Post by Greg on Apr 2, 2012 17:52:19 GMT -5
So here's a start. This actually is based on the original piece I was working on to be a collective fiction. Let's see if it goes anywhere of if I have to finish it myself. When you add more, copy my lines into your post. At the end of your section, please add your name in parentheses (see below). Don't worry about editing much right now, just get something going. I just wrote down what came into my head and didn't really edit it afterwards, just to fix a couple of errors. Title? Her hair was the same color as Annika's and her eyes as astonishingly blue. Christof was certain of that as he studied the painting's improbable details. The portrait, a striking young red-haired woman (one of many legends said she was duchess) in a dark green gown, hung above the mantle of a large fireplace in a crumbling old manor at the edge of the Salzach River. Her name had long since been forgotten but everyone in the city knew her. Now that Annika had left, he felt a new kinship with the painting, one he had not felt, or noticed, in all the years he had seen it. (Nate) Why shouldn't there be kinship he wondered as he turned away from the portrait of his mother, she'd had many lovers and many children. His sister wasn't that special. Waiting patiently for his command was a short potbellied man with squinty unsure eyes. "Ready my things, we leave tonight,"Christof said. "And the painting?" "Burn it," he said. (Greg)
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Post by shelby on Apr 2, 2012 23:30:39 GMT -5
Her hair was the same color as Annika's and her eyes as astonishingly blue. Christof was certain of that as he studied the painting's improbable details. The portrait, a striking young red-haired woman (one of many legends said she was duchess) in a dark green gown, hung above the mantle of a large fireplace in a crumbling old manor at the edge of the Salzach River. Her name had long since been forgotten but everyone in the city knew her. Now that Annika had left, he felt a new kinship with the painting, one he had not felt, or noticed, in all the years he had seen it. (Nate)
Why shouldn't there be kinship he wondered as he turned away from the portrait of his mother, she'd had many lovers and many children. His sister wasn't that special. Waiting patiently for his command was a short potbellied man with squinty unsure eyes. "Ready my things, we leave tonight,"Christof said. "And the painting?" "Burn it," he said. (Greg)
"Burn it?" the squinty-eyed turnip inquired with painful perplexity. Christof glared venomously at his bumbling accomplice, "You heard me. Burn it." How that heinous woman's visage seared his spirit. How he wished he could strip away everything that reminded him of her. The bumbling fool began to walk away, sadly gazing upon the painting; Christof only gazed at the barren spot upon the wall and grimly smiled. (Shelby)
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Post by Nate on Apr 3, 2012 11:30:16 GMT -5
Wow, so far so good. Definitely going in a direction I never expected. I'll it some more time to see if someone else wants to post, otherwise I'll continue on.
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anne
Junior Member
Posts: 93
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Post by anne on Apr 3, 2012 21:53:03 GMT -5
Her hair was the same color as Annika's and her eyes as astonishingly blue. Christof was certain of that as he studied the painting's improbable details. The portrait, a striking young red-haired woman (one of many legends said she was duchess) in a dark green gown, hung above the mantle of a large fireplace in a crumbling old manor at the edge of the Salzach River. Her name had long since been forgotten but everyone in the city knew her. Now that Annika had left, he felt a new kinship with the painting, one he had not felt, or noticed, in all the years he had seen it. (Nate)
Why shouldn't there be kinship he wondered as he turned away from the portrait of his mother, she'd had many lovers and many children. His sister wasn't that special. Waiting patiently for his command was a short potbellied man with squinty unsure eyes. "Ready my things, we leave tonight,"Christof said. "And the painting?" "Burn it," he said. (Greg)
"Burn it?" the squinty-eyed turnip inquired with painful perplexity. Christof glared venomously at his bumbling accomplice, "You heard me. Burn it." How that heinous woman's visage seared his spirit. How he wished he could strip away everything that reminded him of her. The bumbling fool began to walk away, sadly gazing upon the painting; Christof only gazed at the barren spot upon the wall and grimly smiled. (Shelby)
It was raining outside the manor. The grey sky matched his bleak mood. Christof stepped past the huddling figures inside the front door and out into the rain. He took a deep breath, letting the fresh scent of wet spring clear his head. He couldn't wait to get out of this suffacatingly small village filled with its judging eyes. (annie)
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Post by Nate on Apr 11, 2012 7:48:48 GMT -5
Good work so far. I'll continue on with the next five lines this evening after I get settled in at my conference hotel. What fun!
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Post by shelby on Apr 11, 2012 11:27:12 GMT -5
Yay! Can't wait!
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Post by Nate on Apr 11, 2012 21:05:39 GMT -5
Her hair was the same color as Annika's and her eyes as astonishingly blue. Christof was certain of that as he studied the painting's improbable details. The portrait, a striking young red-haired woman (one of many legends said she was duchess) in a dark green gown, hung above the mantle of a large fireplace in a crumbling old manor at the edge of the Salzach River. Her name had long since been forgotten but everyone in the city knew her. Now that Annika had left, he felt a new kinship with the painting, one he had not felt, or noticed, in all the years he had seen it. (Nate)
Why shouldn't there be kinship he wondered as he turned away from the portrait of his mother, she'd had many lovers and many children. His sister wasn't that special. Waiting patiently for his command was a short potbellied man with squinty unsure eyes. "Ready my things, we leave tonight,"Christof said. "And the painting?" "Burn it," he said. (Greg)
"Burn it?" the squinty-eyed turnip inquired with painful perplexity. Christof glared venomously at his bumbling accomplice, "You heard me. Burn it." How that heinous woman's visage seared his spirit. How he wished he could strip away everything that reminded him of her. The bumbling fool began to walk away, sadly gazing upon the painting; Christof only gazed at the barren spot upon the wall and grimly smiled. (Shelby)
It was raining outside the manor. The gray sky matched his bleak mood. Christof stepped past the huddling figures inside the front door and out into the rain. He took a deep breath, letting the fresh scent of wet spring clear his head. He couldn't wait to get out of this suffocatingly small village filled with its judging eyes. (Annie)
The wicked old fool had prepared the horses, but at the last moment, after Christof had mounted, he decided it was high time that he severed all ties with this place. As the bumbling fool began to clamber onto his horse, Christof sidled over and delivered a swift kick to his head with the heel of his boot, sending the pawn sprawling into the mud.
"Forgive me," Christof said as he slipped his tricorner on, "but if I'm really to start anew... it can't be done with the likes of you."
With that he spurred his horse and headed off into the darkness away from the city. The only thing left to see to was Annika. (Nate)
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anne
Junior Member
Posts: 93
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Post by anne on Apr 13, 2012 22:13:00 GMT -5
lol, I noticed you capitalized my name, Nate. Couldn't stand the inconsistency? I'm not to sure how I feel about our main character btw. Ah well, hopefully he'll become a little more likable...
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anne
Junior Member
Posts: 93
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Post by anne on May 1, 2012 20:48:24 GMT -5
Her hair was the same color as Annika's and her eyes as astonishingly blue. Christof was certain of that as he studied the painting's improbable details. The portrait, a striking young red-haired woman (one of many legends said she was duchess) in a dark green gown, hung above the mantle of a large fireplace in a crumbling old manor at the edge of the Salzach River. Her name had long since been forgotten but everyone in the city knew her. Now that Annika had left, he felt a new kinship with the painting, one he had not felt, or noticed, in all the years he had seen it. (Nate)
Why shouldn't there be kinship he wondered as he turned away from the portrait of his mother, she'd had many lovers and many children. His sister wasn't that special. Waiting patiently for his command was a short potbellied man with squinty unsure eyes. "Ready my things, we leave tonight,"Christof said. "And the painting?" "Burn it," he said. (Greg)
"Burn it?" the squinty-eyed turnip inquired with painful perplexity. Christof glared venomously at his bumbling accomplice, "You heard me. Burn it." How that heinous woman's visage seared his spirit. How he wished he could strip away everything that reminded him of her. The bumbling fool began to walk away, sadly gazing upon the painting; Christof only gazed at the barren spot upon the wall and grimly smiled. (Shelby)
It was raining outside the manor. The gray sky matched his bleak mood. Christof stepped past the huddling figures inside the front door and out into the rain. He took a deep breath, letting the fresh scent of wet spring clear his head. He couldn't wait to get out of this suffocatingly small village filled with its judging eyes. (Annie)
The wicked old fool had prepared the horses, but at the last moment, after Christof had mounted, he decided it was high time that he severed all ties with this place. As the bumbling fool began to clamber onto his horse, Christof sidled over and delivered a swift kick to his head with the heel of his boot, sending the pawn sprawling into the mud. "Forgive me," Christof said as he slipped his tricorner on, "but if I'm really to start anew... it can't be done with the likes of you." With that he spurred his horse and headed off into the darkness away from the city. The only thing left to see to was Annika. (Nate)
Christof made his way down the winding dirt road, then guided his horse down the small trail that led away from the road, towards the woods and his sister, Annika. The wind shivered through the trees, the woods sinisterly quiet. It wasn't called the haunted forest for no reason. If he could convince her to leave... crack! Christof jumped in his saddle, twisting sharply. (Annie)
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