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ive lost the will to write, boss I just can’t write this kind of thing anymore, I just...” Jon drops the manuscript with a weak slapping sound onto the desk across from his agent. “I want to write something with depth you know? With meaning. How am I ever going to create art when I’m writing about...about mad scientists and... and alternate timelines? No one wants to consider life’s profundity or feel ennui while reading this, they want fist fights and sex and explosions. And I have written so goddamn many explosions--I can’t do this anymore, Ted? Can you hear me?” Ted has been slowly lowering his sunglasses and carefully setting his smoldering cigar into an ashtray and then very heavily and ominously standing up and deliberately rolling up the sleeves of his sweat-stained white button up shirt and taking a long breath of musty air into his huge barrel chest and now he says: “You will WRITE the GODDAMN WORDS that MAKE US MONEY. You hear? Your flimsy ideals about aesthetics and beauty mean poo poo to REAL PEOPLE who pay REAL DOLLARS for a book on a shelf. You had your chance, Jonny. You sell a lot of books so I gave you chance. You got to write your art piece, you birthed your paper child or whatever TRIPE you were SPITTING at the press that week--you had that chance, JON, and you know what happened?” Jon has been shrinking into his seat, slumping down and his head bowing and his chin touching his chest and his head bobbing submissively up and down and his mouth making the shape of the word yes. Ted slaps his hands down on the desk and shouts “No one BOUGHT IT JON! You sold EIGHT copies and the shelves were overflowing with them and we lost TENS of THOUSANDS and you know what? I KNEW it would happen and I considered it a sunk cost to get it through your thick skull that NO ONE WANTS your art, Jon, they want fun, they want simple and understandable. So GET back to the TYPEWRITER and GIVE IT TO THEM or your contract is OVER. Get it?” Jon got it. And he got home, and he sat down and he looked at the blank page, and waves of cold sorrow flowed up from that white desert and washed over him. “That’s life,” he said to no one but himself and the dark. He began to type.
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Mar 1, 2022 02:27
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Spaceman Jim Discovers The Secret of the Universe "Yes, yes! Of course! Kill Tunderdome! It's genius!" said Spaceman Jeff. "Why did I never think of it!?" "Because you're an idiot," said Spaceman Jim. "Ah, right, of course. I keep forgetting that." "But it won't be easy," said Spaceman Jim, his cold resolve getting even colder. "We will need to seek the help of the Glorblaxians." "Of course! Seek the help of the Glorblaxians! Why did I never think of that!?" Jim sighed. "Never mind that, let's head over to talk to the Mayor* of Glorbtown**" They got to the Mayor's house**** and knocked on the door******. "Hello?" said****** the Mayor. "It's us, the Spaceman Duo from Kxsahwgld!" "Oh, yes, I've been expecting you." The mayor then let out an ominous laugh********, and the door opened on it's own. The spacemen exchanged a wary glance, and entered the cold darkness of the room. *The Glorblaxians do not have Mayors, or any leaders in the sense that humans do. All Glorblaxian bodies could at any moment be inhabited by any Glorblaxian mind, and they travel via a network of vine-like extensions that grow throughout the surface of the entire planet. These vines attach and detach the Glorblaxian body as they move, and keep them connected to the full global network of Glorblax at all times. For ease of communication with other species, they have designated one particular body as their leader, and put a golden crown on its head*** **Glorblax does not have towns, nor any distinct borders between locations. All is Glorblax. All is connected by the vine mind. ***Glorblaxians do not have a 'head.' That is, there is no appendage which contains the sight organs and brain as with most life on earth. Glorblaxian bodies are more like a fluid; the whole body processes information, rather than a single organ. The crown was likely placed on the 'top' of the Glorblax body. ****Glorblaxians do not have houses, in the human sense of a place of shelter to return to each day, though there are countless shell-like structures that cover the surface of Glorblax which the Glorblaxians use interchangeably with each other. The insides are cold, dark, and damp, and a Glorblaxian may stay inside in perfect silence and stillness as if dead for many days or weeks. *****Glorblaxian houses**** do not have doors. The only way to enter or exit is to dissolve the shell-like structure with an acid excreted from the Glorblaxian body. ******The Mayor* did not ‘say’ ‘hello’ or any other English word. Glorblaxians do not communicate via sound, all communication is passed via the mindvines. Glorblax is completely silent. When forced to communicate with aliens the Glorblaxians use an agreed upon variant of morse code, and bang rocks or other objects together. The Spacemen would have first had to communicate the agreed upon number of bangs and clacks for each letter******* of each word******* ********The Glorblaxians do not laugh. *********The Glorblaxians do not write, and in fact have no spoken or written language of their own at all. After generations of interacting with humans and other species, they have learned to reliably communicate ‘yes’ ‘no’ and ‘I don’t know/don’t want to answer’ and nothing more.
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Mar 2, 2022 22:36
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okay i gotta write something this year. gimme a posta, chef
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Mar 15, 2022 21:57
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dinner at home 900w removed derp fucked around with this message at 20:58 on Jan 2, 2023 |
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Mar 21, 2022 05:09
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okay i'll do it
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Mar 28, 2022 23:31
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prompt: sphene note to self 1100w removed derp fucked around with this message at 20:59 on Jan 2, 2023 |
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Apr 4, 2022 04:06
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i love when someone asks me to do a thing i want to do anyway. in
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Apr 5, 2022 00:14
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the plane was on time 600w removed derp fucked around with this message at 20:59 on Jan 2, 2023 |
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Apr 11, 2022 00:06
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oh yeah, in. but i'm writing a poem, deal with it
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Apr 13, 2022 23:44
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derp fucked around with this message at 21:00 on Jan 2, 2023 |
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Apr 17, 2022 22:49
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okay i'll do it. i hope you have a nice relaxing and cozy weekend reading the stories, sh
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May 10, 2022 19:15
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derp fucked around with this message at 21:00 on Jan 2, 2023 |
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May 15, 2022 17:21
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Week 511: Wilco Week This week you will use music for inspiration! But instead of handing out songs individually, I want everyone to take the same inspiration: Wilco’s album Sky Blue Sky, only for the reason that I’ve been listening to it a lot lately and I love it, and I love to see other people’s interpretations of things that I love. What kind of story would have this music as a soundtrack? There are many ways you can be inspired. Listen to the album and see what it makes you feel and try to capture that vibe in your story. Or pick one song that grabs you and be inspired by that one song. Or if you really aren't a fan of the music, then you could just read through the lyrics and pick a line that you like, or hell, even just the title of a song or the album art. Please let me know in your story post what inspired your story (was it the vibe, a specific song or lyric, or whatever else) i won't judge based on prompt adherence, this part is for my own enjoyment I know some people really don't like open ended prompts like this, so if you want some restrictions you can ask me for a setting or a character and i'll give you something. Usual rules, no fanfic or erotica and etc, Here is the album on youtube https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLX68ZEYlh74unIjN8LQyKmJZVDEgqXNOS 1200 words. Sign up deadline friday night, post deadline sunday night PST ins: rohan sebmojo flerp Thranguy sephiRoth IRA Albatrossy_Rodent Copernic Antivehicular tyrannosaurus derp fucked around with this message at 01:05 on May 21, 2022 |
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May 17, 2022 06:13
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rohan posted:I am in and would like a setting please an abandoned oil rig
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May 17, 2022 06:23
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i will fight you! but also if you want, you can write whatever kind of story you want for my prompt, no need to be avante garde, just get ideas from the music or lyrics, whatever you want 
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May 17, 2022 21:22
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flerp posted:in give me a vibe you want Melancholy
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May 18, 2022 04:11
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Thranguy posted:In, setting please. A tower of silence https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tower_of_Silence
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May 18, 2022 07:07
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Antivehicular posted:In, mood plz ominous
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May 20, 2022 23:37
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Signups closed
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May 21, 2022 15:09
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submissios closed
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May 23, 2022 15:07
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DERP/M BRAWL dust 1050 words removed derp fucked around with this message at 21:02 on Jan 2, 2023 |
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May 23, 2022 15:27
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WILCO WEEK JUDGEMENT In a week with few submissions, I am thankful to the people who wrote and mostly really killed it. none of the entries were terrible. Which is why i don't feel bad about, in a week with only 6 entries, not giving any DMs or a Loss. I truly don't think anyone deserves either. HM goes to antivehicular WIN: sephiroth IRA, for a story that not only completely captured the vibe of the album for me, but was in its own right a really well told story full of genuine feels. great job! Crits to be posted in a minute
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May 23, 2022 19:09
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judgecrits Sephiroth - Driftwood Great start to the week. As I read this, ‘either way’ started playing in my head. I think you really caught the sort of longing/melancholy/’drifting away’ feeling that the album gives me. This is a different kind of loss, not immediate, but a ‘slow’ loss, the idea that no matter how big an event, how meaningful or terrible, how memorable, it will be worn smooth by time and drift away. I really enjoyed this. top tier. My only negative is that the final line feels cliche compared to the rest of the story. Tyrannosaur - she had a name once The opening was very offputting, not just the abuse and pet murder, but the description of the girls reaction to it felt like you were mocking her pain. After the story got going, though, i enjoyed the wildness of it, the casting off of humanity and embracing of the animal, somehow that is very appealing to me personally, and the story itself had a kind of uncontained animalness to it, a heedless plowing forward. Mid tier, enjoyable. Antivehicular - Amelia, After the War An interesting little slice of life of someone who is between lives. I like Amelia’s acceptance of banality, her willingness to fade out and just exist for the rest of her life. I like that we don’t get plotty details about the husband and whatever villainy he was into. This story made me think about what makes a life ‘good’ and about how so many people are unsatisfied with what they have. I liked how she was leaning into just being at peace even if alone and starting over. I thought the hint of oncoming tension at the end was unnecessary. Mid -upper tier Jib - Appalachian Hollertics A vivid description of some dudes hanging out in a pool. Despite opening with piss, i do think it was effective, but I would have liked less description of their surroundings and more conversation, which is the focus of the whole thing. Would like more passionately pissed wendell, and less narrator. Also if dixon was more than just a sounding board, but gave his own grievances, the back and forth and plan building between them would be fun. Nice final line. Mid-tier Seb - Impossible German I am left with many questions, mainly, why can't this jerk control his dog and why is he mad at a stranger for being bitten, especially when that stranger is taking it surprisingly well? Overall this didn’t connect for me, I didn’t feel the sense of fear or danger from the German in the same way the narrator did, and I also did not understand why the German would reward the narrator in such an extravagant way. I did like the concept though. Mid-low Thranguy - What the Wind Cannot Have I love the contrast of the tower of silence in a corporate setting. The whole thing is very surreal. I liked the imagery and the vibe of it, but I was at a loss for the character’s motivations. That is quite a hosed up and disgusting thing to do simply on a dare O_O mid-tier, but could be high with some more of Jeremy’s thought process.
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May 23, 2022 19:11
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in, gimme a card
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May 23, 2022 20:35
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while he was sleeping prompt: temperance 1000w Thousands of years passed while God slumbered, and the angels looked down at the earth with growing concern. They decided that action had to be taken, and chose a messenger who would venture down below... ~ The clouds parted and the angel Theraza spread her glorious wings of golden, red-tipped feathers, and descended from the sky in a blazing ray of light. Her sandaled feet touched the earth and flowers and vines burst from the ground and water gushed out in founts with every step and the cracked earth was healed where she passed. Crowds of people rushed out of their houses to watch, gasping and crying out in delight and fear. Theraza spread her arms and beamed a blinding smile out to the crowd. “People of the world! I bring a message from the heavens!” The people stared, wide-eyed, baffled, afraid, and pointed their phones at her. Theraza’s heart swelled as she gazed over their confused faces. Oh these poor neglected creatures! Left for so long without guidance they have completely forgotten everything! A throne of roots grew beneath her, lifting her up, and hundred foot tall pine trees burst from the ground on either side of her, and her voice boomed over the crowd: “Hear me now! The earth is dying! In heaven’s absence you have forgotten that this lush place was meant as a home, and not as food or fuel! Cease your burning and your digging and your putrefaction of the air and water, and in time, this place will heal! Heaven’s decree is that you should care for your home, and not- Several helicopters circled above and drowned out even Theraza’s supernatural volume, and flashing lights surrounded her on all sides and howling sirens blotted out all ears. But Theraza was not daunted, her voice and eyes were full of love and determination. “You need not crush the flower and squeeze out its nectar, for the nectar is offered willingly! The earth’s bounty is-” “Get down! Get down on the ground!” Several crouching men crept toward her steadily, shouting at her, stepping carefully over the ivy and vines and leaves and flowers that continued to gush up from the ground like living waves. “Get down, now!” They shouted. Of course, they want me to be on a level with them, Theraza thought, and stepped down from her root throne to the earth. A dozen men surrounded her, shouting at her to get down on the ground. Ferns and roots and flowers burst up from her feet. “I am here!” she says. “I am here, on the ground among you!” The men tackled her and hit her with clubs and tied her hands behind her back while pressing her face into a pillow of blooming clover. ~ After several jail cells were destroyed with roots and trees that burst through the walls, Theraza was moved into a specially built titanium box, where no plants could bloom, and her limitless love and energy could be contained. For several days the world was atwitter with stories and questions about the angel and the beautiful glades that appeared wherever she stepped. Theories abounded on every news channel, demands were raised, boycotts were threatened, impassioned speeches were given and policies were proposed. But after a week, the people had moved on. ~ Over weeks of meetings in opulent offices and secret penthouses, billions of dollars changed hands, and Theraza was moved again. ~ The door to her titanium cell opened after weeks of silence and Theraza jumped up with excitement. Several men in full body suits and helmets came in. She opened her arms to them and grinned. “Oh people, please listen! I must tell you about the damage you are doing to your home! The sky is heating and the plants and birds are dying, but it’s not too late! And, though it’s frowned upon by heaven’s law, I can help you! I have the power to-” The men hit and prodded her with rods that electrocuted her until she tumbled out of the cell, and they ushered her into another room composed of nothing but charred black ground and black walls. The men backed out of the room as trees and leaves began to sprout, and they shut her in. Immediately upon the door shutting, heat burst down from above and the trees and bushes exploded in flames, more greenery burst up and it burned too. Smoke and heat and steam billowed up constantly, and powered the factory that Theraza was the heart of. Black smoke gushed endlessly into the sky. Energy costs dropped, and the factory owner came to dominate and monopolize energy in the entire radius of the factory. But of course, that was not enough. ~ After years of being charred day and night, Thereza’s power began to wane. The trees that sprouted constantly were not as thick, the vines not as numerous, and she grew thin and her feathers drooped. Finally, the burning paused, and the door to her blackened room was opened, and a dozen armed men entered, with one suited leader at their front. “Angel, take us up to heaven,” said the leader. “We want to meet more of your kind.” Thereza beamed love all around, and the room was packed with vines and ferns and leaves in an instant. “Oh, but, I’m already here, and I can tell you how to correct your ways. Heaven is for souls and Angels, not for living humans! Just let me help! Let me explain! I’ve been waiting in here, waiting to talk to you.” “Take us to heaven, now, then we’ll understand everything.” Theraza wrung her hands. Oh, these poor confused children! Surely the angel’s hierarchy had chosen poorly when they sent her, she thinks. Maybe it is best for all the angels to explain things together... ~ God still sleeps, and if he ever wakes he will find his angels missing. And when his nose wrinkles at an acrid stench he’ll look down at earth and see dozens of new factories churning day and night, pumping great founts of black smoke up to heaven.
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May 30, 2022 02:36
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sephiRoth IRA posted:In I WILL FIGHT YOU
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May 31, 2022 17:12
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curlingiron posted:derpiroth brawl  i'll be posting mine sunday or earlier
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May 31, 2022 17:27
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also in 
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May 31, 2022 17:30
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derpiroth brawl - prompt: mystery gone fishing 500w gone derp fucked around with this message at 21:02 on Jan 2, 2023 |
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Jun 3, 2022 17:04
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a brawl ends, a brawl begins. ME AND ANTIVEHICULAR ARE FIGHTING someone do the thing
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Jun 3, 2022 22:29
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Excerpts from a found journal, early first century PS 1200w -When the robots took over everyone was really scared at first. All the politicians and police were out of a job and there was lots of riots and looting, and my dad got his arm broke. I was just a kid then, but he talks about it every time the robots do anything in our house. “That’s the one that broke my arm!” he says, but it’s impossible to tell them apart. And mom always reminds him about how it was ‘cause the robot was pulling him away from a fire, and how six robots rushed him to the hospital right after. -I can’t drink soda anymore ‘cause of my diabetes, no one will sell it to me. My friend Elly tried to give me one and got all her soda taken away, too. I hate it. I tried to grow some sugarcane but the robots cut it down and scolded me. -I’m not gay but the robots think I am, ‘cause of my browsing habits, they say, and also ‘cause they look at where my eyes linger. Now they close the chat window whenever I try to ask a guy on a date. Only girls for me. It’s okay, though, I never really liked dating. -A few years ago it was really stressful ‘cause the robots came into everyone’s houses all around the world and injected us all with something. Grandma wouldn’t open the door, and so they broke it down. They put up a new door afterward, of course, but still, Grandma wouldn’t stop shouting about communism or fascism or some ism for hours and no one got any sleep. Elly was over that night and we stayed up till 3 together talking about music. -Now that I've got my own house, every morning I have to go out into the yard and look at the flowers that the robots planted out there for me. They’re really pretty, but I can’t always pay much attention ‘cause sometimes I’m tired, and the robots have to drag me out of bed and out into the yard. Sometimes it's raining, that’s the worst. -At ten oclock yesterday my front door opened and Elly came in with two robots. They sat her on my couch and then brought in her bags and said she was going to live here now. There’s no use in arguing with the robots, they always get their way. I asked Elly if she was okay and she nodded but she looked nervous. I feel nervous too. I’ve never lived with a friend, and I’m still not used to being on my own. -After dinner that first night we wanted to watch a movie but the robots would only put on a romance, some old one from the teens called ‘Carol.’ Elly said the robots think she’s gay, too, and we laughed about it and kept telling the robots we were friends. It’s funny when the robots get little random things wrong like that. At least it's never harmful. We made a big show of holding hands for the robots and they finally left the room. The movie was pretty good, actually. Elly’s hands are really soft ‘cause she uses a special hydrating lotion. -Elly has been sleeping on the couch for a few nights. I told her we should trade off but she won’t ‘cause she says it was my house first. But last night the robots wouldn’t let her on the couch, ‘cause it would hurt her back they said, and they made her get in the bed with me. The bed is really big though so it wasn’t bad, there’s lots of room and plenty of pillows. We were both blushing a lot and laughing way too much, so I was glad when the robots turned off the light. I couldn’t sleep at all though. I don’t know why but my heart was pounding so much. I think Elly couldn’t sleep either, ‘cause we just stayed up whispering most the night. -Yesterday we went on a walk along the riverside and Elly said she’s never been happier since living with me. I’m happy too, I just feel different than I ever used to, like everything is somehow more important and more real when she’s around. I just want her to be happy here so the robots don’t move her somewhere else. -It’s been really cold lately and our heating isn’t working for some reason, and we’ve been kind of snuggling under the blankets at night to keep warm. I turned so red the first time but it really felt nice not to be cold. It's so easy to fall asleep like that. But tonight we put our arms around each other like we have been doing, and Elly said goodnight and kissed me right on the mouth. I didn’t know what to say so I laughed, and then I asked if the robots told her to. She said no and that she didn’t know why she did it, then I said it was kinda weird, and she got all quiet and wouldn’t look at me, and then she went on the other side of the bed. Now I’m scared she’s mad and I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why I said it was weird when it made me feel so special, but it is weird for friends to kiss, right? -This morning the robots went nuts! We had breakfast and it was really awkward ‘cause Elly wasn’t looking at me and we didn’t talk much, and I was trying to think of what to say when two robots came into the kitchen and started saying ‘alert alert!’ Then they said something about how our immune systems were too weak, and that we needed to share immunities right away. We didn’t know what they meant at first and I got pretty scared there was another sickness going around, but they kept talking and we figured out they wanted us to kiss. Elly looked so worried, but I couldn’t keep a smile off my face. I said it was best we just went along with them, and that it wasn’t a big deal. Then she relaxed and finally looked at me again, and the ache in my heart finally went away. The robots told us to kiss a bunch of times ‘cause they kept saying it wasn’t effective unless our lips touched for a certain time. Then they said we should do it every morning and every night for a week, for our immune systems to fully sync up. I can’t explain it, but it feels like I’m on vacation... a whole week... -It’s been two months now and I guess the robots were right about a lot of things in their own way. I mean, I’m not gay, it’s just that Elly is really special, and the things we do are just ‘cause we’re so close. And the robots somehow knew it from the start. I’m still afraid that she’ll leave, so I want to ask her to marry me, just for fun, you know? But I think I better wait for the robots to tell us we have to, then we can laugh about it together.
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Jun 6, 2022 06:04
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antiderp cheatbrawl: at sea- 500w The waves rock us endlessly, and the sun beats down. My skin is red and peeling and my lips are cracked. This little patch of yellow rubber is our planet, floating in a watery void. Just me, him, and a deck of cards. He, sitting across from me, looks just as bad. Burnt face, scraggly salt-crusted hair, red eyes. We haven’t spoken much. The cards speak for us. He deals two sunbleached bits of paper to each of us. I’ve got a pair of jacks. “I bet 3” I say, and I pour three capfuls of water from my bottle into the empty bottle between us. He peers slowly at his cards, then says “call” and pours in three capfuls from his own bottle. He turns over the first three cards, a bunch of low ones. I have a high pair, but could he have a straight? I wait to hear his bet and the raft sways, salty undrinkable waves slosh, and the hot sun fries my neck like bacon. “I’m all in,” he says, and counts out 22 capfuls of glittering water. Each splatter against the plastic is pain on my tongue, my hand trembles with the thought of just grabbing it and chugging it down. I look closely at the backs of his cards, trying to decipher the stains and creases. I’ve come to recognize various cards by the folded corners, the watermarks. I feel confident that one is the two of clubs. And if I’m right... no possible straight. “I call,” I say, and I start counting out capfuls. The look on his face is disconcerting. Is it relief that I see there? Resignation? I pour in the last capful and he nods, then tosses his cards between us, face up, a vacant look in his eyes. “Drink it,” he says. His cards are a two and a ten, unsuited. No chance for a straight or flush, no chance for a higher pair than my jacks. “What kind of bluff was that,” I say. “Drink it, I know you’ve got two jacks. One’s torn at the corner and the other is creased.” I stare at him for a moment. Somehow this is a trick... “What is this?” “I cheated on my wife,” he says. “Just as we started going down. I was cheating on her as the water came in.” The minute I grab the bottle he’ll say I took it before the hand was over, and he’ll call for a redo... “There’s two more cards,” I say, “deal.” He turns over another card. A ten. Then I realize, it is possible for him to win. If the final card is the last ten, he’ll have three of a kind. Only one card in the deck can save him. He picks up the final card, and there’s a watermark on the back that looks like a woman's face. I know I’ve seen that mark just a few hands ago... he lays down the card...
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Jun 10, 2022 21:20
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in, and i'd like to request three animals/plants/insects because i like to write about nature
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Jun 13, 2022 16:40
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Cattleya orchids bad soil 300w Something’s killing my orchids. They’re wilting. They have enough water, and I put fertilizer and there is full sun in my yard and yet they wilt. They droop, they bow down and their petals fall off and they die. There’s no moles, I’ve killed them, and I’ve killed the voles, I’ve sprayed for fungus, I have sprayed for gnats and aphids, I have looked under every individual leaf of every plant for eggs or ants or larvae and no, there is nothing. Yet they die. Handfuls of dirt, between my fingers, under my nails, I don’t wear gloves. I get splinters from the tiny bits of wood, decomposing wood in the soil, tiny little needles that work their way into my skin. I dig down around the orchid bulb and the thick, fleshy roots cling and grasp to my fingers, pleading with me to save them. There are worms, beetles, other unknown movements. It’s raining, and the dirt becomes mud and I’m digging down, there must be something down there killing them. The bulb comes loose from the dirt, I lift it and it’s washed in the rain and soilwater drips down my arms to my elbows and I hold the plant up, and the roots squirm like pale eels between my fingers. “Live!” I shout, “why won’t you live!” The orchid looks down at me, its pink mouth is open wide, yellow tongue, red velvet eyes, the leaves stretch at me, spindly twisting fingers. “LIVE!” I shake it until roots are slapping my arms and the neck is snapped and dirt is splattering my face and the petals are torn and everything is a crumpled greenbrown heap of matter in my palms.
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Jun 17, 2022 16:59
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[quote="Weltlich" post="525092245"] Gang Brawl Prompt #1: Moby dick, but about corn. Call me Cornmeal. Some years ago, nevermind how long precisely, I had a mountain of debt and a dead-end job that I hated and my soul was being drained one teaspoon at a time. Then my grandpa died, and left me his farm. It changed everything for me. I quit my job and left the city without a thought. The minute I stepped off that bus and smelled the dusty sundrenched air, I knew I was home. Over the seasons I got to know the people of the small town. I learned their likes and dislikes, discovered their friendships and rivalries, I even married and divorced a few of them. But as the years went by, I spent less and less time in town at the saloon or the community festivals, and more time alone on my farm. Eventually I stopped selling my produce, and ate it instead. I allowed the weeds and shrubs to go wild, vines grew over my roof and windows and up through the floorboards. I slept on a pile of leaves with bunnies and chickens curled up next to me. I loved it. It was perfect. Except... Years ago, back when I went into town, I'd tasted an unforgettable corn. It haunted my dreams with its sweet crunchiness. Its absence from my mouth was a crack in the perfection of my daily life. After months drooling at the thought of it, I decided I had to have it. I knew that Pete of Pete's Produce had grown the corn, so all I needed was to get into Pete's shop and buy some corn seed... I crashed through the brush and onto the road and stumbled into town, filthy and bleeding from brambles. When I entered the town square, the bustle stopped, and people scurried into their houses like bugs under a lifted rock. Doors slammed and locked, the square was empty. I slowly became aware of my appearance. I had not shaved in years and my beard was a tangled mass that hid my face, my clothes were barely present scraps. I paused to clean my face with some spit shine, and angle the bits of clothes over the most important parts. It didn't matter. None of these people mattered. Only getting the Corn mattered. I found Pete's shop, and entered. "C-can I help you? ... Sir?" Pete and his purple-haired daughter cowered behind the counter. "Haha, Hi Pete, it's me, James Farmer, I'm sorry about my appearance, I've been a hermit for quite a while, and I kind of lost track of things. I'm here to get some of that delicious corn of yours and then I'll be on my way. Is that okay?" is what I meant to say. What I tried to say. But after so long without a word, the only thing I could get out was "CORN, ME CORN CORN ME CORN, CORN" Well, he handed me a bag of something, and I was so relieved to get out of there I didn’t look until I was home in my pile of leaves. Then, when I opened the bag and reached hungrily inside, I only got a fistfull of cornmeal.
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Jul 26, 2022 03:01
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infinitely late at night removed derp fucked around with this message at 21:03 on Jan 2, 2023 |
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Jul 26, 2022 22:51
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in vanilla! fill my blanks pls
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Aug 1, 2022 20:30
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A [teenagers] agonizes about [the void] The tomb, the stone walls of a tomb, I’m in a tomb, I’m in a coffin, a grave, a shroud, this is a shroud, I’m in the void, the void, the nothing. The endless nothing. There is a knock, and the light clicks on and Xillia Ravenweave Drake flings her blankets off and sits up. “Mom! I’m trying to imagine the void!” “It’s dinner time, sweety.” “Ugh don’t call me that!” They go downstairs and there is a pile of dead, burnt flesh on the table that she is meant to eat, and decaying plant matter in little piles. Dust, dust, it’s all dust, I’m dust, I’m nothing, I will return to nothing soon, soon, the world will fall apart and everything will be atoms and nothingness, all of this is just matter moving around, nothing “Have a seat, honey,” says her father, who is already chopping up the dead animal into smaller pieces on his plate. “Mom, Dad,” says Xillia, brushing dyed black hair away from her eyes, “I’m going to die, and there’s nothing you or anyone can do about it.” Dad scoffs and returns to his meat, Mom says Xilliaaaa in a petulant way. “We’re all going to DIE,” Xillia screams. “We're going to the VOID! What’s the POINT OF DINNER!” There is a moment of stunned silence, then Dad lays down his fork and knife and wipes off mouth with a napkin and says: “Embrace the void, Jill. You are the void. We are void incarnate. Of all the creatures on earth we are the personification of death, of disease, of famine, of war and destruction. Countless beings have gone to the grave at our hand, entire species sent to the void in uncountable numbers, all because of us. We are death. We are the end. We are void.” He picks up his fork and knife and saws into the flesh on his plate. “Now eat, fill that void in your belly.” Xillia sits down and looks at the meat on her plate. She imagines, briefly, the life that once animated those muscles, the bones and sinew that once ran and jumped, the skin that once felt sun. “Cool,” she says, and grabs the steak in her hand and tears into it with bites like a lion.
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Aug 1, 2022 22:32
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"i will write a no dialogue story cause i loving hate dialogue" said derp while doing an action
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Nov 29, 2022 21:35
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| # ¿ May 16, 2024 23:42 |
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 here is a redemption for week 75: http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3598931&perpage=40&pagenumber=4#post424127276 What are people? We are specs of dust. We are atoms. I often think that people are atoms, because we never really touch each other, not really. I touch books, and I touch food. I look out my window at the trees and animals. I am inside, like everyone. Everyone is inside, with only themselves. My room is a body for my body. And my body is the heart inside the body that is my room. My room has everything my body needs: food, air, water, books, health, blood, papers, pens, a bed, a toilet, a place for cleaning myself. It has all the parts of a complete unit, and needs nothing else to be fully itself. Just like my body, and just like an atom. Why write? I write, because I imagine burying this notebook in the soil somewhere outside, most likely beside a stream. And maybe in 1000 years when everyone has forgotten where we came from and how things used to be, it will be found and shock the world. My room is beside a stream. I like to be beside streams. I also write for myself to remember. I have many hundreds of notebooks full of all kinds of things, and I like to look at them and remember what I know, and remember my thoughts and opinions. Why I don’t move very often. Some people are constantly on the move and can never see enough sites. Some people keep their rooms moving about even when they sleep. But I like to watch a place, I like to know its secrets and see the animals that live there and the insects and birds. I have been beside this stream for many years. I like to watch it swell and shrink with the storms and I like to watch it freeze and thaw. And I like to notice where and when the fish swim, and what the birds sing, and what creatures drink from the stream when there is snow, or rain, or hot sun. I have other notebooks where I write these things. I have many notebooks that are full of this stream. Have I been outside? I have been outside three times, and I think this is why I like to watch things more than other people do, because I can imagine things better. I have touched running stream water, and it was so cold and living. I have stepped in snow, and also in mud. I have touched a leaf, and sticks and rocks, and I have breathed the same air as the animals. Why am I not upset by children? There are plenty of books about children and how the world used to be covered with them. There are even instructions on how children were once made by connecting two types of human bodies together to exchange a liquid that causes children to grow inside you. Most people find it horrifying, but I think that’s because most people haven’t looked at animals as much as I have. All animals let children grow in them, sometimes huge amounts of children, over and over, and they seem perfectly fine after. Even though I know it's not a natural thing for people to do, it seems interesting to me and I think about it sometimes. Have I thought about dying yet? I have thought about dying, but I don’t remember it. I know because I wrote about it in a notebook. In my notebook I wrote “One day, logically, if I keep looking at things one day I’ll have seen everything. If I ever could never see anything new, then I think I’d be ready to try dying.” But I don’t remember that. I don’t remember worrying about that, so it must have been a long time ago. And now, I don’t think about dying anymore, because of what I wrote in my notebook. If I can forget thinking about that, then I can forget anything, and that means I’ll never run out of new things to look at, because I’ll keep forgetting things. I wonder when I’ll forget I wrote this... Am I ever lonely? I’m not lonely, not really. I have my books and my notebooks, I have videos and music and if I really tried I could find other people and we could talk by connecting our rooms (only electronically of course.) But I’m not lonely. I talk to the animals and the stream, and I have my books. I have this list of questions I wrote for myself so long ago that I forgot them, and that’s why I’m not lonely, because I have myself in that way. Have I been to the bottom of the ocean? Have I? I have been down in the ocean. I’ve seen an octopus and I’ve seen the old cities there, but I don’t think I’ve been to the bottom. Have I? I will have to check in my notebooks.... Maybe, after I tire of this stream, I’ll go to the ocean again...
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Dec 2, 2022 05:50
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