So it's very early in the morning, I couldn't sleep anymore and in trying to find something to occupy myself I came across this idea and decided that I would give it a go. This idea is mostly born of a mental stall but I'm hoping that it will be fun and useful for any who choose to participate.
The Goal of this Thread:
Here I invite anyone interested to join me in creative writing exercises. The premise is that someone (I will give a starter) will suggest a subject and any who wish can submit a writing on said subject. I hope that someone else out there is interested!
Guidelines:
All posts most meet expectations posted on Art, Music, and Writing Rules.
Any writing on a posted subject will be welcomed, these should be: descriptive paragraphs, poems, or short stories. Short stories should be posted as links to their location so as to avoid extremely long posts. Constructive criticism and encouragement are also welcome as long as they aren't spam. Please look for the most recently posted subject before submitting writings.
When the time comes for suggesting a subject I will maintain the right to veto any I don't feel are appropriate. I want this to remain a creative thread, not a debate thread, I will thus shoot down any subjects concerning politics or religion. Any other subjects that do not breech forum rules will be acceptable. Once there are a few people involved (assuming there is any interest) I will arrange for subjects to be voted on by participants. I will ask that subject suggestions be sent to my profile. Thank You!
Starter Subject: An apple.
The crisp red skin of the apple gives way with a snap as she bites into it, revealing the soft white flesh contained within. The sweet juices rush to meet her tongue as she chews, savoring every droplet of flavor. Every bite brings more of the apples succulent aroma. Every tear of her teeth releases more of the tangy juice. Soon she is wiping juice from her chin and licking it from her fingers, reluctant to waste even a drop of it's powerful elixir. The apple's flesh is gradually torn away and only the core remains in the end.
So, I know that's not much of a starter but like I said this is an idea born of a mental stall. So show me what you've got people! Thanks!
Every day after school, she'd walk home to a simple trailer. The clanging noise of drunken arguments filling the neighbors' yards with hate. The sound pushed her back telling her to go away, she didn't belong her. This was not her family. She was not meant to live here. So she ran away, into the city lights, looking for the mother ship.
The teachers didn't understand what had caused her to lose interest in writing. It was always something she had enjoyed so much, they said, so many stories coming from a single fascinatingly creative mind. What was changing inside her to make her want to stop? Writer's block? They simply did not know.
The girl's name was Constance, and what Constance knew, is that it wasn't the author who had changed, it was them. The characters. Something big had flipped priorities upside down. It caused her to fade away into a kind of imagination, and it made them come alive. This may be hard to believe, but it was true. She could no longer direct the outcomes - the stories gave birth to themselves. Every single time she started writing, she felt herself disappear, as they came to life, her pen struggling to keep up with their uncontrollable events.
It was no use she decided. Writing. I feel like I'm just reporting for inter-dimensional beings. Therefore, I will choose to write no more, and in that choice, I will recover both my life and my sanity, and all will be well once again.
But that was just the starting point. Once the door to the Realm is opened, it will never close again.
The Powells were an ordinary family. Tom was a carpenter, and Sue taught the hearing impaired. Their lives were guaranteed to be troubless, spotlightless, and without concern - in a word, "Ordinary". But then something extra ordinary happened: Sue gave birth to a baby alien girl, who was implanted in Sue while she was still in her mother's womb. The Powell's named the baby, "Constance". Sue often quipped that the baby was constantly Constance - this reassured her baby's ordinariness after such extraordinary displays of talent as writing before being she could talk. Little did they know that her consciousness was a portal to the other world, and soon the aliens would control her just as NASA controls the Martian rovers. Vrrooom! Vrooom!
Ok, well, here's some more of that. I tried adding conversations and I guess its making a story if you put all the parts together. -- He was a very serious man, almost grim. Like he was a grave digger, only he wasn't. He was a psychologist named Dr. Eddie Emerson. "Exciting Eddie" is what they called him behind his back. He was Jewish, and had very bad eyesight so there was a yellow tint to his glasses and it seemed to pour yellow drab over his words whenever he spoke. So he was. Only. It wasn't that he was drab. He just never went into the water with the other swimmers.
There were times when the day was a little chilly, but you felt like swimming anyway cause of all the sunshine. So there was Constance, with her two friends Jenny and Crystal, and her mom Sue. They were all afraid to jump in first, so Sue showed them how, by walking in slowly using the steps at the shallow end. She put her arms in the air when the water covered her fat belly, and said giggled like âWooo, hooo woooâ. Like that was going to help?? Constance didn't know. So she just jumped in feet first. The cold was shocking and then it was gone. Crystal followed her mom in, saying âWooo wooo!â with her hands in the air. But Jenny was weird. She just kept going around the water talking about different ways to say just how cold it was going to be once she got in.
"Oh man, that water looks chilly guys! For reals. Look at your arms, there's goosebumps all over. Hey are you sure this is going to be fun? It looks like ice-cycles." Then she wondered whether it was worth it, any of it. After all, she might get sick. Did she want to get sick? This idea struck her as a very impressive Told-ya-so, moment. So she decided she'd just wait for them to finish, and started preparing two conversations with each one of them: One, if they got sick and Two, if they didnât. Anyways, that's how this man was. This psychologist. He wasn't drab, he just never swam with the others.
To top it off, his office had brown furniture in it, and the blinds were always closed. "Hello Connie," Mr.Excitement said, "May I call you Connie?"
"My names Clarice," I lied. "My friends Dale and Chip call me Clarice, so you better call me, 'Clarice'".
"Very well, Clarice. â He paused. âNow, why don't you tell me about these stories of yours. Your mother says they're fascinating."
"Yeah? hmmm. Well, dad wants to get rid of them. Thatâs why her and dad are fighting.â She grabbed a sour ball from the candy bowl, âSo how come I know stuff they donât? That sort of thing really scares them. Anyway, itâs the aliens. Thatâs whoâs doing it. So if you want to know about my stories, you got to know about the Aliens first."
"Aliens?", he said, "You don't say. Well, now that is fascinating. Please continue."
"So yeah. Ok.â She swirled the candy around her mouth to talk better. âThe aliens came back. I don't know how. Dad started putting pills in my juice, like I canât taste them, and now everythingâs cloudy. That's why mom got mad at him. But you know, there's a hole in my head. That's what the writing did. So I think dad's just trying to fill it back in. Only it didn't work. Maybe the Aliens just tried harder. So anyway, now they see me and know me. And they see you tâ" â She broke her sentence as her voice suddenly deepened - âYou are not our friend. You are not our friend!" Her hand reached out and grabbed his arm, piercing the skin as if it was tender as a ripe, and blood-filled persimmon. The most excitement Eddie had ever felt in his life, was about to be his last conscious moment on the earth, as Constance screamed at him, âZOMBIE!!!â The Aliens delivered the Hollar-X connection into his body driving his consciousness into recess.
Dr. Emersonâs soul was cold, alone and trapped, hovering just above its body like an overhead camera. It could only watch from above, but it was prevented from reentering the 'water'. Meanwhile, his body grabbed its coat and left for home, whispering goodbye to Constance on the way out. âSo long dear friend. Tell your father not to worry, we will make it better.â He reached out to her, the tips of his fingers charred black from the electrical discharge. âKeep us in your thoughts.â
ok. so it's just the quotation marks. it looks a lot worse than it is. but i don't think it's readable this way. i guess i'll have to strip out the quotation marks before submittinig. thanks bronze
Sorry everyone that I haven't offered comments on alien stories or even submitted something of my own. I've been super busy the past week and haven't even gotten a chance to log on until now. So for now I'm just gonna throw out a new subject for those who want one.
A Butterfly
So it's a pretty wierd one but I'm sure people will probably be able to come up with some interesting stuff. Hopefully I'll be able to come up with soemthing for this one. Normally aliens are something my mind would have run with block I hit a very solid mental wall recently and I haven't even writen anything for a week which for me feels like an eternity. Anyhow, I hope the new subject brings out some interesting works.
And just FYI awhile back I encountered the same quotation problem and it can supposedly be solved by using Wordpad to c/p. I haven't tested this yet but since Moat who gave me the advice manages to post with out that particular glitch I guess it works. Good luck!
As I waltz through the fields of my crescent-shaped memories, I try to forget all my heartache and miseries. His name was familiar but the act wasn't friendly, So now I've got baby with no high school degree.
I'm locked up inside nightmare-threads around me, Just waiting to break out and fly away free! I can't think that love is as cruel and unusual, So I keep on praying that I'll spread my wings!
Oh, Butterfly butterfly, flying so wonderfully, butterfly butterfly, why can't you be me?
Butterfly butterfly flying so crazily, butterfly butterfly, please let it be! (Repeat, Fade music, baby crying in the background).
