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In!
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Nov 9, 2021 17:31
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IN
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Nov 9, 2021 18:08
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your protagonist must change your piece must have a beginning your piece must have characters your piece must happen over a period of time your piece must have a relatable protagonist
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Nov 9, 2021 18:25
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in!
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Nov 9, 2021 18:44
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In so i don't get roped in to judging this catastrophe
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Nov 9, 2021 20:19
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in
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Nov 9, 2021 20:33
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in
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Nov 9, 2021 20:40
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I can definitely write a not story
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Nov 9, 2021 21:01
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in
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Nov 9, 2021 21:28
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your piece must have a climax crabrock posted:In so i don't get roped in to judging this catastrophe your piece must have understandable characters (as in they speak and think in ways humans understand) your protagonist must achieve something your piece must exist in a single timeline Fuschia tude posted:I can definitely write a not story your piece must contain tangible objects your piece must make sense
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Nov 9, 2021 21:51
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usually my rule for nanowrimo is i don't also sign up for thunderdome. so in the spirit of this week, i'm IN
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Nov 9, 2021 23:12
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In!
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Nov 9, 2021 23:55
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Sitting Here posted:usually my rule for nanowrimo is i don't also sign up for thunderdome. so in the spirit of this week, i'm IN your piece must obey the law of conservation of matter J.A.B.C. posted:In! your piece must have a point of view
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Nov 10, 2021 00:15
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In
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Nov 10, 2021 00:21
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Might as well keep building my DM collection -- In!
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Nov 10, 2021 01:54
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your piece must have a plot Ominous Whooshing posted:Might as well keep building my DM collection -- In! your characters must have motivations
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Nov 10, 2021 02:01
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flerp posted:prompt ok
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Nov 10, 2021 02:33
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Hell yeah, I’m in. 
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Nov 10, 2021 02:46
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You got me, I'm in.
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Nov 10, 2021 03:20
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your piece must end curlingiron posted:Hell yeah, I’m in. your piece must have emotional stakes Beezus posted:You got me, I'm in. your piece must have a protagonist that interacts with others and/or the world
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Nov 10, 2021 03:52
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In
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Nov 10, 2021 04:08
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your piece must have only one possible ending flerp fucked around with this message at 04:59 on Nov 10, 2021 |
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Nov 10, 2021 04:56
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Sure, why not? In.
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Nov 10, 2021 05:11
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flerp posted:judges:
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Nov 10, 2021 05:24
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Antivehicular posted:Sure, why not? In. your protagonist must only be one person
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Nov 10, 2021 05:29
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best prompt in the history of td i'll do it
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Nov 10, 2021 07:20
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In
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Nov 10, 2021 07:25
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flerp posted:screw the rules, i have thunderdome Yeah, me too. How does one crit without rules? Let's find out.
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Nov 10, 2021 12:42
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Sign me up!
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Nov 10, 2021 12:57
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derp posted:best prompt in the history of td i'll do it your piece must have things happening your piece must be satisfying Zurtilik posted:Sign me up! your protagonist must be in the piece
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Nov 10, 2021 15:40
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In
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Nov 10, 2021 22:43
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your piece must have a setting
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Nov 11, 2021 01:51
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Can I still request a hellrule, feeling uninspired and hoping it gives me some momentum
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Nov 13, 2021 23:39
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Flesnolk posted:Can I still request a hellrule, feeling uninspired and hoping it gives me some momentum no thats against the rules so here it is your piece must exist
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Nov 14, 2021 00:46
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loved this prompt but the covid booster killed me, will toxx my next entry
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Nov 14, 2021 21:26
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Rule: your piece must obey the law of conservation of matter https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qq8Q4BpgvTE
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Nov 14, 2021 23:32
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Karl's Day Out 1048 words. Rule to break: sign up to Thunderdome weeks before submitting to them. Karl Marx, motorcyclist, the hero of this story (and indisputably a good person in this narrative) rides his neon-green electric machine on a broken road. Dusty winds blow through the rusted-steel organs of industry, which stretch across the endless ravaged plains of the capitalist West. Riding pillion is Karl’s plucky sidekick, Greta Thunberg, whose dainty plaits tussle with the dirtied industrial air beneath her helmet. The green machine whirrs to a stop among a row of delapidated tin sheds —places of work —means of production —whatever you want to call them. With Karl’s boot on the ground, Greta hops off the rear. “It’s time for action,” Greta says. “It’s time for revolution!” says Karl. —— Another day for Daria at the shirt factory: She has a reject shirt tied around her head, to collect the sweat from another hot autumn. The pair of wing shaped glasses she bought from the discount store seem to work well enough for her, too. A forklift regularly careens into this dark corner of the workshop, with pallet after pallet of of camo-green tees, each freshly printed with a fashionable image of Che Guevara’s face. An army of workers stands around workbenches here, folding these things into neat squares, stacking them into piles of ten. Within sight of the workbenches, under the steel roof beams of this tin shed, Daria is stood by the packaging machine. Yuri —a miserly old man with a stoop, and an ancient face that hangs from his skull— shoves the hand-folded Guevaras onto the conveyor one by one. The belt lurches forward one step with a whirr, tucking the square-folded Che Guevara into a pocket of single-use plastic-film. The belt lurches forward again, putting Che and the plastic just beyond a heated guillotine. The blade clacks down on its servos, sealing and separating the bagged shirt from the rest of the plastic. The conveyor whirrs forward again, spitting the bagged shirt out of the machine at Daria. It’s for her to put in a cardboard box, destined for some shopping mall, where it’ll be snapped up by kids who probably don’t know all that much about Cuba. Whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda. Che Guevara, and another, in the parcel, up until the box is full. Yet the shirts keep on coming while Daria has to seal off the cardboard with her tape-gun. Then she throws the sealed box onto a pallet, with the others, and retrieves an empty box while the shirts are piling higher. Whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda. Hour after hour, box after box. These motions live inside her muscles. Even the movement needed to add any reject shirts or broken packages to the “sort it on the next break” pile is an automation. As her body continues packing, her mind has gone home to her flat, raiding the memory of her fridge, where she’s preparing this evening’s meal: a pizza cooked on handmade bread, which she throws inside her oven, before she closes the flap, which is the top of another box full of Che Guevaras. As her tape-gun glides over the package, the thin brown line that circumscribes its cardboard spool grows thinner, drawing nearer; nearer to the cardboard core. A tired bell buzzes: it’s the door. Tall shutters rumble and squeal at this dark end of the workshop. The setting sun casts a wedge of light through the fog of lint around Daria’s packing machine. Silhouettes of Karl Marx and Greta Thunberg, in their motorcycle gear, cut darkened voids into the solid block of light. “IT IS TIME FOR THE GREEN REVOLUTION!” They say. But the army keeps on folding, and Daria keeps on packing: Whirr, di-clackda, whirr di-clackda, whirr di-clackda. Tired and half-lidded eyes from every corner of the workshop turn to Karl —as little as is necessary to shoot their distracted glares. Their movements live inside their muscles, and their minds wander home, as their vacant eyes point at the bearded shadow in the block of light. Whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda. “You here to deliver something?” asks Daria, as her arms continue packing. “We are here to deliver the future of mankind,” says Greta, “but we need your help!” Yuri’s eyes roll from inside the pit of his darkened sockets, as he mutters something about kids. “Wait one minute,” says Daria, who yells “BABA!” into the cavernous tin-shed. “We have visitors, Baba!” The forklift jolts to a stop, and thus dismounts Iliona: an aged, stout and short woman whose yellow dentured smile glistens by the wedge of light. “Hello-hello!” she says, “what can I do for you?” “It is time we ceased to treat this earth like a toilet,” says Greta, “we have tried the politicians, and we have tried the businesses, yet these leaders offer nothing but blah-blah-blah.” “And so,” says Karl, “it is time we sought the aid of those who truly possess power in society,” opening his arms to the armies in the workshop. “It is only you, the proletariat, who can stop the capital class and its enablers in government.” Trusting that their dear Baba will handle the unusual conversation, the army turns its eyes back to its work. Whirr, di-clackda —etc. “We print shirts here,” says Iliona, “I can show you.” She reaches into Daria’s box, to grab a warm and freshly sealed T shirt showing the visage of the Cuban freedom fighter. “The kids these days, they like to buy their tax-the-rich and Che Guevara,” says Iliona, “It sells well!” With another box full, Daria reaches for her tape-gun. The final inches of tape shear the surface of its cardboard spool, falling limp over the maw of the box. Still the shirts keep coming, and that sound. Whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda. Thus the box of a hundred Guevaras lands on her “sort it later” pile, with the tape-gun perched on top. The machine must never stop: Che Guevaras for the clothing shop. These words live in Iliona’s mouth, “would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” How thoughtlessly they fall out. Meanwhile all subsequent words spoken about the environment and revolution stack up by the entrance of her ears, like a pile of packaged Che Guevaras with no box to go to. Whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda, whirr, di-clackda.
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Nov 15, 2021 00:25
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Rule: Your protagonist must be relatable Submission: Physics 102 Final Exam (key) https://drive.google.com/file/d/1OygqKNAkYABvfrHRr7V1RnYeYo4wRUYP/view
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Nov 15, 2021 02:31
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Rule: your piece must have a climax The Something Awful Forums > Private Messages > Re: :pervert: 680? words Cyril wrote on Dec 29, 2021 03:19: blue balling bitch > Cyril wrote on Nov 17, 2021 13:53: > you can't leave me like this > >> Cyril wrote on Oct 12, 2021 01:06: >> what the gently caress where did you go >> >>> Cyril wrote on Aug 28, 2021 19:17: >>> the last word is: one >>> >>>> Cyril wrote on Aug 28, 2021 19:14: >>>> good work baby girl, i printed out your picture and im going to reward your last word with my cum >>>> >>>>> Cyril wrote on July 15, 2021 02:56: >>>>> next is: edge >>>>> >>>>>> Cyril wrote on July 15, 2021 02:49: >>>>>> it's okay your tweets count too baby girl >>>>>> >>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Jun 21, 2021 06:37: >>>>>>> next is: two >>>>>>> >>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Jun 21, 2021 06:34: >>>>>>>> my dirty dirty girl >>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Jun 01, 2021 23:00: >>>>>>>>> next is: waiting >>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Jun 01, 2021 22:57: >>>>>>>>>> every time you post i know it's for me >>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on May 28, 2021 17:52: >>>>>>>>>>> next is: three >>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on May 28, 2021 17:24: >>>>>>>>>>>> you naughty thing, making me read fabgoons >>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Apr 17, 2021 12:50: >>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: knot >>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Apr 17, 2021 12:48: >>>>>>>>>>>>>> i love how you pretend you're not into this >>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Apr 12, 2021 03:38: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: four >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Apr 12, 2021 03:37: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> well done >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Apr 03, 2021 02:44: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: five >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Apr 03, 2021 02:43: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> that's a good little one >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Mar 28, 2021 05:15: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: squeeze >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Mar 28, 2021 05:13: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> i saw you were probated but i knew my good girl would be back >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Feb 17, 2021 05:35: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: drop >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Feb 17, 2021 05:23: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> what were you doing in QCS, pet >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Feb 01, 2021 19:31: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: tease >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Feb 01, 2021 19:27: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> lol baby you thought you'd hide in D&D >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Jan 17, 2021 06:56: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: slow >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Jan 17, 2021 06:54: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> you're posting less but i still find them >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Jan 02, 2021 23:16: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: loose >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Jan 02, 2021 23:11: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> you make me work for it >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Dec 29, 2020 13:52: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: instructions >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Dec 29, 2020 13:46: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> its ok i like it too >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Dec 14, 2020 15:07: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: shaft >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Dec 14, 2020 14:54: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> you like making me search for these lol >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Dec 09, 2020 11:36: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: grasp >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Dec 09, 2020 11:30: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> lol why arent you sending me links when you post >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 25, 2020 08:19: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: rhythm >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 25, 2020 07:42: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> i found it lol >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 19, 2020 21:55: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> next is: stroke >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 19, 2020 21:53: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> good girl but why didnt you link me to the post lol >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 09, 2020 10:01: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> here's an easy one: goon >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 07, 2020 19:15: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> it's fun >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 06, 2020 19:12: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> there are lots of people already playing it >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 06, 2020 18:27: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> and if you do it well enough i give you a forums gift certificate >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 06, 2020 18:05: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> the way it works is i give you some words and you work them into your posts >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 03, 2020 15:49: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> its a fun one >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Nov 02, 2020 13:41: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> let's play a game >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Oct 29, 2020 18:15: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> you're gorgeous >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> SmolBean wrote on Oct 29, 2020 18:12: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Thank you! >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Cyril wrote on Oct 28, 2020 12:05: >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> i like your posts in the post your selfies thread
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Nov 15, 2021 03:04
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the mountain 1100 w THE MOUNTAIN! The mountain! He is looking at the mountain. Purple mountainmajesty clouds obscure the snowy top of the mountain.The mountain wears the clouds like a beret that swoops gently down one side of the mountainhead. The clouds are kind, he thinks, they are soft and kind to the mountain. Wind blows the clouds away and the sun sparkles on the snowy tip of the mountain as if the mountain has glistening white hair. The sky is gold. The sky is pink. The sky is purple and blue and black and stars. I am looking at the mountain, he says. The mountain ain in my eye I. The mountain has a name ta. The mountain has a voice that is feathersoft but as heavy as the moon and as solid and ungiving as the world. The mountain has a brain. I am sure, he says, I am sure the mountain has a brain liquid and meat bleeding and round creased and mazelike paths encased in skullstone under snowskin. The mountain has a mouth. The mountain has a mouth, he says. The mountainmouth is a dark hollow at the base of the mountain. The mountainmouth is a hard cave tunnel tube wet from rainwater and mistwater and breath from the mountainlungs down in the earth among the stone roots that grow down from the mountainfeet. The mountain speaks its name co. The name ma is carried on the hot mountainbreath moist from the deep earth and sssses through leaves and needles across air into his ear like a wet tongue whisper. The voice of the mountain is a low rumble and he feels it in his spine and buzz in his teeth AAAAAAAAA OOOOOOO MMMMMMMMM AAAAAAAAAA he vibrates with the voice of the mountain. He is very close to the mountain. He has a tent. He has a compass. He has moved through trees and over streams. He is on a quest and is near the end of his quest. He is near the mountainfeet beneath which the stone roots grasp deep into the ground and feed the mountain from the cool earth. The earth rumbles beneath his feet close to the mountainfeet both of their feet rumble and he feels the vibration of the voice of the mountain in his chest THUDing with his heart on ribs. The mountain speaks its name TA and he raises his eyes UP. Jagged white lines and purple shadows, icy air whips clouds across sharp peaks. A scatter of blackfleck birdsmoke swirls cawkakaka and creak crik! trees sway left and right and the sky is WIDE and the mountain splits the sky with whiteblue blades and stomps earth with bluegrey feet. His body hums with the mountain’s name CO George Vancouver was a British officer in the Royal Navy. George Vancouver was born 22 June 1757. George Vancouver explored and charted the Pacific coast region of North America on the HMS Discovery. George Vancouver also explored the Hawaiian islands and parts of Australia. George Vancouver the explorer! George Vancouver named many things after himself: Vancouver Island, Canada. Vancouver, the city in British Columbia. Vancouver, the city in Washington State, Mount Vancouver on the Canadian-US border. Another mountain, also Mount Vancouver in New Zealand. George Vancouver also named things after his friends: The Puget Sound, after Discovery’s second lieutenant Peter Puget. Mount Baker after Discovery’s 3rd lieutenant Joseph Baker. Mount St. Helens after his friend, Alleyne Fitzherbert, 1st Baron St Helens. Whidbey Island after naval engineer Joseph Whidbey. And Mount Rainier MA after his friend, rear admiral Peter Rainier TA mother of waters snowcovered mountain talol tahoma tacobeh pooskaus Air is flowing over him and toward the mountain. Wind thrusts between his legs and under his arms and pulls his hair and dives toward the mountain. The mountainmouth is wide open. The mountainlungs swell and suck air into the mouth and down the wet throat tunnel with a deep groan howl gulping air into the mountainlungs swelling butterfly wet and pink in the earth. The mountain is taking a breath, he says. The mountain is going to speak. Air is flying. The sky is diving. Leaves and branches snap tumble twistwind in the breathsky trees bend downlow bowdown to the mountainmouth. Sky is black and clouds whitegrey boiling steamfog over the mountainhead. The mountainmouth gulps the sky and the mountain swells. The mountain is going to speak its name CO Steelstone clouds squeeze and arcing glowlines carve cloudcurves. Lightning snakes hiss. Airscream shrieks into the mountainmouth throat tunnel. The mountain is full of breath sucks more breath stretch pregnant skin belly. Overfull throatchoke croak. Veins bulge bright blood on the mountainhead and mountainsweatdrip steamburst redglow lines crisscross mountainface. It’s going to happen! He says It’s happening! The mountain will shout its name MA ! Flashburst airblast icerain stones sting his faceskin! Blacksky shatter earth crackboom kneequake SKYQUAKE earpulsing nosebleed SCREAM howling throatburst spitblood tonguetearing SHOUT The mountain! TA The Mountain! CO THE MOUNTAIN! MA TACOMATACOMATACOMATACOMATACOMATACOMATACOMATACOMATACOMATACOMA * d r i p d r i p d r i p dripdripdripdripdrip drip drip drip drip d r i p d r i p drop drip drop pit patter pat pit pat spit spatter spat Rain clatters hollow on the tent fabric. He is in the tent. The sky grumbles. The sky is outside the tent. He looks at the ground through a hole torn in the bottom of the tent. It is wet mud. He is sitting crosslegged in a tent looking at the ground. Dripdripdripdripd drip drip A black beetle is crawling through the mud. The beetle struggles through water and soggy leaves. He is watching the beetle. The beetle came from under the tent and is crossing the hole and then it will go back under the tent. He sees the beetle only for this small time while it crosses the hole in the bottom of his tent. He has torn a hole into the beetle’s life and is watching. The beetle is slowing down. The beetle’s legs are covered with mud and its black shell is wet and flecked with dirt. Its antennae wave left and right. The beetle’s legs are in the rainwater. The beetle paddles with its six legs and climbs onto a leaf. The leaf is sinking in the mud. dripdripdripdrop water flows across the hole. The sky rumbles softly and far off. The sky is leaving. dripdrip. The beetle is sitting on the leaf, not moving. The flow of water tips the beetle forward and the soggy leaf sinks into the mud. Water flows over the beetle. dripdrip drip
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Nov 15, 2021 04:04
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