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01/21/2013 01:51:55 AM · #1 |
Add to this one continuous story:
Rules:
1. Story must make sense
2. Add what you like, introduce a character, provide more information on existing characters, create an era, create parallel action, etc
3. Write no more than 5 sentences per post.
Check out the link, posted by pamb: There are 3 examples of stories starting with the same phrase.
Now it is our turn to compile a story of our own.
Our Story starts like this:
It was a dark and stormy night
Just add a sentence or two to this, and the post after you will add another sentence or two.
Message edited by author 2013-01-21 03:06:16. |
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01/21/2013 02:21:08 AM · #2 |
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01/21/2013 02:44:43 AM · #3 |
"It was a dark and stormy night. In her attic bedroom Margaret Murry, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind. Behind the trees clouds scudded frantically across the sky. Every few moments the moon ripped through them, creating wraithlike shadows that raced along the ground."
Do we take it from here? |
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01/21/2013 02:49:43 AM · #4 |
This is our story.
We take it from:
It was a dark and stormy night.....
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01/21/2013 03:15:17 AM · #5 |
Ok but English is not my first language. I write often but employ the services of a sub editor. So here goes:
It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning ripped the sky, fleetingly illuminating a young woman lying at the foot of a tree. Her dark hair is dishevelled, wet and muddy. A rain-drenched summer dress clings to her slim body. |
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01/21/2013 09:36:43 AM · #6 |
Originally posted by Ammie:
It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning ripped the sky, fleetingly illuminating a young woman lying at the foot of a tree. Her dark hair is dishevelled, wet and muddy. A rain-drenched summer dress clings to her slim body. |
At the edge of the lake, not fifty yards away from where she lay, the canoe that had not been pulled the whole way up on shore, bobbed at the rear. There were two sets of footprints in the mud where the water met the land.
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01/21/2013 10:26:45 AM · #7 |
Originally posted by NikonJeb:
Originally posted by Ammie:
It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning ripped the sky, fleetingly illuminating a young woman lying at the foot of a tree. Her dark hair is dishevelled, wet and muddy. A rain-drenched summer dress clings to her slim body. |
At the edge of the lake, not fifty yards away from where she lay, the canoe that had not been pulled the whole way up on shore, bobbed at the rear. There were two sets of footprints in the mud where the water met the land. |
He sat watching her, chain smoking and burying each butt in the sand. Waiting to see if he could catch at least a small rise and fall from her chest, a twitch of a finger or toe. "I'm sorry" he thought.
Message edited by author 2013-01-21 10:27:12. |
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01/21/2013 10:47:25 AM · #8 |
Originally posted by previous:
It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning ripped the sky, fleetingly illuminating a young woman lying at the foot of a tree. Her dark hair is dishevelled, wet and muddy. A rain-drenched summer dress clings to her slim body. At the edge of the lake, not fifty yards away from where she lay, the canoe that had not been pulled the whole way up on shore, bobbed at the rear. There were two sets of footprints in the mud where the water met the land.
He sat watching her, chain smoking and burying each butt in the sand. Waiting to see if he could catch at least a small rise and fall from her chest, a twitch of a finger or toe. "I'm sorry" he thought. |
"If only I had listened; none of this would have happened. Nobody can know the horrible truth of what transpired here tonight."
Message edited by author 2013-01-21 10:47:50. |
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01/21/2013 11:34:38 AM · #9 |
| Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the bellow of thunder made the newborn lambs cry. Splendida, the prize thoroughbred, whinnied frantically and reared up on her hind legs. In a dark corner, sitting on the cold dirt ground, Erasmus sat silently, a curl of smoke from his cigarette gracefully dancing towards the rafters. It was time, he thought. |
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01/21/2013 01:47:39 PM · #10 |
| He flicked the end of his cigarette into the hay so carefully stacked across from him. And then he watched as the hay started to burn. |
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01/21/2013 02:10:33 PM · #11 |
| From the shore near the lake, Robert saw the flames from the ignited hay fighting to reach into the sky, defiant against the chilly summer storm. "Erasmus" he muttered under his breath, and tore himself away from the unmoving young lady and headed for the barn. |
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01/21/2013 08:43:46 PM · #12 |
| The smoke from the burning hay drove Splendida mad with panic. She tried to run as had been bred into her bones. As the flames sped her way, chewing at the walls of her wooden box stall, she kicked furiously at the door to her stall. Horse and broken door exploded out into the aisle. As she galloped to fresh air and long-sought freedom, Splendida spooked and kicked at the huddled form of Erasmus. |
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01/21/2013 08:52:20 PM · #13 |
| A distant howl filled the smoky air. The sound stopped Robert in his tracks. Wispy clouds danced before a Cheshire Cat-smile moon, sending shadow puppets dancing across the rolling hills. The hair on his arms stood up, and he knew: she was back. |
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01/21/2013 09:43:56 PM · #14 |
But she couldn't be back, it was impossible. Both he and Erasmus had made sure she would never been seen again, just like the others.
Message edited by author 2013-01-21 21:44:13. |
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01/21/2013 10:54:30 PM · #15 |
| Meanwhile, back at the barn, Erasmus, wakened by Splendida's passing kick, staggered to safety as the flames lept higher and higher. Trying to stanch the flow of blood from his lacerated temple, he shook his head and moaned, entirely unaware that she-who-must-not-be-named was back, and stronger than ever. |
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01/21/2013 11:19:33 PM · #16 |
Erasmus turned and watch as the fire continued to grow, shooting embers into the air like bottle rockets. It reminded of that July 4th many years ago when he first met Robert. They were thirteen at the time, and the events of that summer would shape the rest of their lives.
Message edited by author 2013-01-21 23:20:06. |
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01/21/2013 11:59:14 PM · #17 |
| "If only Mark hadn't come along," Erasmus mused to himself, "things would have been different, and none of this would have happened. I might have had a life!" Shrugging resignedly, he turned his back on the ruins of his barn and trudged wearily towards the shore, lightning and thunder crashing about him all the while. |
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01/22/2013 12:07:03 AM · #18 |
Lady Palida puttered about her changing room, holding up fanciful ensembles, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding over the hedgerow. She was too preoccupied with images of finger sandwiches and a parlor filled with Our Ladies of the Azalea gardening club. They were due the following day, and Hildred had been making moves on her husband, Mercatour, whom everyone called "Mark".
Message edited by author 2013-01-22 11:58:09. |
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01/22/2013 11:58:28 AM · #19 |
Originally posted by previous::
It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning ripped the sky, fleetingly illuminating a young woman lying at the foot of a tree. Her dark hair is dishevelled, wet and muddy. A rain-drenched summer dress clings to her slim body. At the edge of the lake, not fifty yards away from where she lay, the canoe that had not been pulled the whole way up on shore, bobbed at the rear. There were two sets of footprints in the mud where the water met the land.
He sat watching her, chain smoking and burying each butt in the sand. Waiting to see if he could catch at least a small rise and fall from her chest, a twitch of a finger or toe. "I'm sorry" he thought.
"If only I had listened; none of this would have happened. Nobody can know the horrible truth of what transpired here tonight."
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the bellow of thunder made the newborn lambs cry. Splendida, the prize thoroughbred, whinnied frantically and reared up on her hind legs. In a dark corner, sitting on the cold dirt ground, Erasmus sat silently, a curl of smoke from his cigarette gracefully dancing towards the rafters. It was time, he thought. He flicked the end of his cigarette into the hay so carefully stacked across from him. And then he watched as the hay started to burn.
From the shore near the lake, Robert saw the flames from the ignited hay fighting to reach into the sky, defiant against the chilly summer storm. "Erasmus" he muttered under his breath, and tore himself away from the unmoving young lady and headed for the barn. The smoke from the burning hay drove Splendida mad with panic. She tried to run as had been bred into her bones. As the flames sped her way, chewing at the walls of her wooden box stall, she kicked furiously at the door to her stall. Horse and broken door exploded out into the aisle. As she galloped to fresh air and long-sought freedom, Splendida spooked and kicked at the huddled form of Erasmus. A distant howl filled the smoky air. The sound stopped Robert in his tracks. Wispy clouds danced before a Cheshire Cat-smile moon, sending shadow puppets dancing across the rolling hills. The hair on his arms stood up, and he knew: she was back. But she couldn't be back, it was impossible. Both he and Erasmus had made sure she would never been seen again, just like the others.
Meanwhile, back at the barn, Erasmus, wakened by Splendida's passing kick, staggered to safety as the flames lept higher and higher. Trying to stanch the flow of blood from his lacerated temple, he shook his head and moaned, entirely unaware that she-who-must-not-be-named was back, and stronger than ever. Erasmus turned and watch as the fire continued to grow, shooting embers into the air like bottle rockets. It reminded of that July 4th many years ago when he first met Robert. They were thirteen at the time, and the events of that summer would shape the rest of their lives. "If only Mark hadn't come along," Erasmus mused to himself, "things would have been different, and none of this would have happened. I might have had a life!" Shrugging resignedly, he turned his back on the ruins of his barn and trudged wearily towards the shore, lightning and thunder crashing about him all the while.
Lady Palida puttered about her changing room, holding up fanciful ensembles, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding over the hedgerow. She was too preoccupied with images of finger sandwiches and a parlor filled with Our Ladies of the Azalea gardening club. They were due the following day, and Hildred had been making moves on her husband, Mercatour, whom everyone called "Mark". |
As Hildred slowly blinked her eyes, she smelled smoke and looking up and saw the crackling lighting though the rain had stopped. She tried to shake the confusion from her aching head. It all tumbled about in her brain, Mark, Erasmus, Robert. Her green eyes glowed with wrath while her dark hair blew and dried in the wind. It was all coming back to her, along with her growing anger.
Message edited by author 2013-01-22 12:30:39. |
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01/22/2013 01:18:50 PM · #20 |
She faintly recalled the conversation with Robert on the boat...."it was all HIS idea Ms. Hildred. HE said that me and Rasmus were supposed to get rid of you - one way or another. HE said that Rasmus would be there to help me with the boat, help me with you....but he wasn't...". His voice faded into the darkness.
"Well, it didn't turn out that way did it Mark?" she fumed and slowly tried to rise to her feet. |
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01/22/2013 11:21:05 PM · #21 |
| Clark Gentry, reporter with "The Observer" had not had a scoop in years. If he, could somehow catch wind of what had transpired at Eagle Mire before the police became involved, his ratings as a journalist within the organisation, would improve immensely. He had been in contact with Lady Palida on one previous occasion when a horse ran through Our Ladies of the Azalea gardening club annual display. Who would give him the tip off, how would he find out? |
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