/lit/ - Literature

>>17815774
In case you missed them, Here are the completed flashes from the last thread:

>Atonement on a snowy night (>>17797640)

>>[*] A US president delivers a state of the union message on the eve of an apocalypse (>>17803916)

>A teenager takes up a summer job as a professional squirrel catcher (>>17810031)

>>Two thieves have to carry out a robbery in a Buddhist temple (>>17811564)

>>17813435
bought one for me and one for my father for when he goes down to our cabin in west virginia. its very solitary there and i know hell have time to enjoy it

Bump

Hey all - damn we need a auto bumper for this thing. Kinda frustrating how sometimes we hit the bump limit and sometimes we only make 30 posts. Guess the 12 of us aren't enough lol.

Anyway OP I did autism edits to Squirrel Catcher: https://pastebin.com/RFdss4jF
Final version I promise.

I might do one more (bringing me up to 3 total). Gotta leave some room! -t. Lesbians Eating Pizza anon

>>17815774
dibs on Church Closure - Im driving up to Upstate NY to say goodbye to my Aunt tomorrow (Stage 4 Panc) and I feel like writing.
My prompt suggestion
>11 Feds at a Klan Rally of 12.

>>17817351
Do ittt

>>17817577
Sorry, fren. Hope it helps.

Bump

started writing this when book 2 began, but I've been moving with no internet, so I forgot the exact wording on the original prompt.

(1/2)

>Memoirs of a Goose Battling for Bread

Still to this day, I remember it vividly. Back then, all days were alike. I was but a gosling at the age of five. I was never prepared for it, neither did I want to participate. “But the impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.”
Like floating assassins, we preserved our resources the best we could: Barely moving an inch, always awaiting a target. Knowing every ounce of energy must be spent at the oncoming battlefield, not a single calorie was wasted. Every day was a nightmare about to unfold, as I dreaded the disastrous tumult and quarrel of the fight for pastry. You never knew when they’d come by – These tall dark figures walking along the lakeshore on their clunky brightly colored feet, which stuck out beneath an immense collection of pelts, in which they’d wrapped themselves for the winter. Anyone could be for whom we laid in wait, yet few would happen to provide us with a meal, and most were simply passersby.
Not a day I went from dawn till dusk uneasy. My gaggle were my family and closest companions, but none of them could I call upon as a brother in arms. The very moment a tiny offspring of the feeders would signal, for the larger ones to bring along the pastry, a chill, like the first drops of a fall rain, ran across the plume of my crown, back along the nape of my scalp, and trickled down the infinite length of my neck. That very instant, not one of us would sit still, despite most of us situated within their immediate periphery. It was a dance of uncertainty, a feeble attempt at approximating the point at which their handouts would strike the water’s surface. Looking up, I would see their eerie grin, revealing the pleasure they took in watching us fight for food. Like emperor Caligula at the Damnatio ad Bestias, their amusement was fueled by the violent nature of our struggle.

I’ve never let myself forget, the impact those days left upon me. During winters we were forced to fare south for warmth. While we could locate new sources of food in more temperate surroundings, the ponds and marshes were not ours alone. On a winter’s day in the late of December, the hoarfrost upon the cattails of our pond shone in the gleam of the noon sun. As I lay there drifting, with my beak tucked tightly between the feathers of my breast, the undulating flutter of wings lowered itself upon us, and before we knew it, a band of Canadian geese had invaded our territory hoping to scour our newfound home of nourishment. They too had arrived for the winter. Migrating all the way from the northern fringes of the land, they weren’t planning on moving on to another body of water simply from our presence there. Touching down not far from us, they intentionally alluded us to their arrival, perhaps in hopes of intimidating our flock.

(2/2)

Its head held high, pointing its beak downwards revealing the oblong nostrils of the upper mandible, I sat face to face with the approaching bannerman of their group. This was my first encounter with this strange, yet oddly similar, relative of mine. Our eyes interlocked, as his company followed suit. Having moved within our immediate proximity, following him, who could only be considered their general, they circulated between themselves, as if they’d reached their destination, and were now preparing themselves to partake in our silent poach.
The feeders had gathered by the outer edges of our battlefield and were now eagerly watching our two gaggles facing each other with contempt. Knowing the hour of feeding had struck, we stood face to face, like the Legionnaires of Rome stood before the Carthaginian Army at the Battle of Cannae. Not a single ripple spread across the open surface. A larger gander among them dressed in darker plumes along his neck with pale white down across his breast, rose his stygian-crested mug and lowered his beak showing only the upper mandible for a split second, before letting out a resounding honk signifying his self-imposed superiority. At this moment, one among the tall figures spread its featherless wing, and let the first barrage of bread strike down in our midst. The drums of war had sounded, and at once every goose fought for themself.
The bystanders cackled, as they watched us fight for supper, stretching our necks forward in almost futile attempts at conquering a sole piece of bread. Not a single crumb was left to float, not even for a second, and while the audience caught the sight of Romans and Canadians at once aggressively intermingling, the sounds of hissing and snapping rung within the pond, as I was pushed from left to right by brother and foe alike. I felt the detestable desperation of my brethren that day, but despite falling asleep on an empty stomach, I had shared the same desire as them, and felt at ease having seen the Canadian gaggle scatter off emptyhanded.

These large beings that I once looked to in hopes of a grain of feed, are now my daily servants. In exchange for their food, I stay within this cage they’ve built, where I rest all day along the goslings of other geese. I remain confined solely for their amusement, equipped with a bright orange ring around my right shank, and with no pastime to occupy my mind. Come to think of it, not much goes on around here. Not much at all.
While I look back upon those days with detest, I used to have a purpose in being – Perhaps I shall look for a hole in the fence tomorrow?

>A spurting tree grows to adulthood overnight

>>17811577
based monk

>>17811564
Yup, this one is going in! Great story. I think this is your best yet. Barney is the perfect name for that character. You nailed the pacing and started the story at the right place to build tension. Good use of 3rd person omniscient, which is tricky. The tense looked off in one or two sentences but that's an easy fix.

>>17817351
>https://pastebin.com/RFdss4jF
Got it, thanks!

>>17819769
Sweet, I love that prompt. I'll read your story today and share my thoughts.

>>17815774
This is it. If I write one more word, it’ll be the furthest in this story I’ve ever been.

>>17820119
But won’t that also be true for the next word you write?

bump

ump

Where’d everyone go today? This thread is on life support...we need some new stories posted, STAT!

We’re getting so close to 50!

>>17821735
everything sucks and Ive never written anything good in my entire life

>>17821783
Each story gets a thorough editing pass, so don't worry about it

>>17821783
You gotta be comfortable writing a bunch of garbage first before you get good.

Bad writers are the ones that don’t know they’re shit. If you can at least tell good writing from bad, you’re half way there.

>The entire world is put under the effects of DMT
>A very dramatic drive-through order

eyeing these but not calling dibs. got ideas for em

>>17819775
I really love your descriptions in this one (this goose has definitely read the classics). We had another anon working on the same prompt, and it’s actually quite interesting seeing both the points of similarity and the unique direction/style of each.

>>A spurting tree grows to adulthood overnight
Great prompt (made me think of a scene in My Neighbor Totoro)! Working on this one now, but just as a [*] piece so don’t let that stop anyone else from giving it a go.

>>17819769
>But the impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way

Lol, geese are many things...but I have yet to meet one I would describe as stoic.

>>17819769
beautiful, anon. lovely prose and a satisfying ending. my favorite line:
>spread its featherless wing

>>17822414
I slammed this out, might change the ending
>A very dramatic drive-through order

The truck rumbled beneath Brunhilde like a 200-year-old dragon. She slammed the gas, commanding it to belch poison fumes and smash aside a Smart Car delaying her entry to the IHOP parking lot. The puny vehicle spun in circles like a Looney Tunes character and stopped on a lamppost. Pathetic—but not as pathetic as Sigurd.

The memory of his smiling face framed with golden locks once again came unbidden to Brunhilde’s mind. She screamed and broke her steering wheel with the palm of her hand. She wasn’t the fair maiden he left behind that Sunday morning in a sex-stained bed. Five years ago. He saved her from her pimp and turned her life around. Then he used her and left her, just like all the others. But not before making sure she loved him first.

She shrieked and the windows on her F-350 shattered glass onto the pavement. Oxandrolone pumped through her veins, sweet as summer rain. She was juiced from a four-hour gym session. A self-help guru blasted affirmations through her speakers loud enough to enlighten the kid with the wispy moustache selling ice cream across the street.

*If you want it, take it. The universe is a box that you must open. Demand respect, and respect shall be given.*

Brunhilde snorted and drove over the puny IHOP intercom system. No one was going to ‘take her order’. She was the one doing the taking from now on.

“Uh, may I help you?” the overweight kid asked through the half-opened takeout window.

“Pancakes. Five of them. Waffle family feast, and buttermilk crispy chicken.”

He shut the window and ran to his manager: Sigurd. He was six years younger than Brunhilde, still had his life ahead of him. Unlike her. She was an emotional wreck, but her body was a palace of delights. Her thighs could squeeze the cum from an ox. She smiled as Sigurd approached the window and went pale as a ghost.

He ran, she followed, breaking the frame of the takeout window as she slammed her bulk into the restaurant proper.

It went just as the guru said it would. First Sigurd fought, then he denied. He cried and pleaded. The puny customers didn’t try to help him. The universe knew she was right. She threw him into her truck and drove off into the night.

bump

>>17821783
this was me two years ago. now i have improved. pick up that pen

I'm having a go at the pink animal one my lads

bump

>>17824102
kek, not bad

[*not for the anthology*]
This one ran a bit long, but since it’s an bonus one, I figured I can sit on it a bit before I tighten it up to get under 1,000...

>>17822497
>>A spurting tree grows to adulthood overnight

“A, be careful with that!”

Aiden and Lily tore from the dining room to the kitchen, the crash and rattle of plates and utensils hitting the stainless steel sink could still be heard as they both collapsed on the couch, already in the middle of a battle over what to stream next.

“Mike, we should do this next year. They’re not ready.”

“It’s mine, and I get to say when they’re ready. I’m going downstairs. Tell ‘em Grandpaw Mike’s got something to show ‘em.”

It was with mixed feelings that Kyle set about calming the room down. Aiden was 5 and Lily 4, at this time of the evening both were whirlwinds of volatile energy. He tried to strike just the right tone, he needed them to understand that tonight was very important.

“Okay, guys, Grandpaw has something to show you so I need you to turn off the TV and pay attention.” He could hear Mike shifting boxes and grunting in the garage. “This is something very special, and we wanted to wait for you to be old enough so you could be careful with it.” There was more banging, and some swears he really hoped the kids didn’t overhear. Kyle dimmed the lights and called out to see if Mike needed any help.

The door from the garage kicked open and Mike emerged rolling a giant wheel covered in blue padded sheets. It was about as tall as he was, and in only one or two revolutions it was on the living room carpet between the couch and the fireplace. He carefully laid it down flat and pulled the sheet off to reveal a round wooden coffee table.

(1/4)

>>17825272
(2/4)

The wood was strange; smooth and shimmery and uniform, almost white, with an unusual brown spot the size of a dinner plate in the center. The edge of the not-quite-circular table was ringed with rough bark.

“You can eat on this table—”

“Mike, no....”

“I’m sorry, Kyle, but that’s what tables are for!” He turned back to the children. “You can eat on this table, play games around this table, heck you can draw on this table. But,” and his voice grew quiet and solemn “whatever you do has to come from a place of love and care. No spills, no knicks, no scratches...this table is very special to your father and me, and it should be even more special to the two of you.

“Now,” he groaned, stretching his back and taking a seat at one end “the very first thing you two will do around this table is listen to a story. So scoot up close and get your feet under there. Good.

“There’s a tradition in our family, when each one of us were young we planted a tree. Aiden, yours is in the back yard. Lily, do you remember where yours is? That’s right! It’s behind Grandpaw’s lake house. Me and Grandmaw had trees too, but they’re both old and tired like us and blew over.

“Your mom picked out her tree when she was around your age.” At the mention of mom, Lily leaned closer while Aiden shifted away and started picking at the fuzz of the carpet. “She found a little oak sapling in the woods —those are the trees acorns come from — and we planted it in a secret spot in Wood’s Woods. We called it that because it was up a path behind Ms. Wood’s house.

(2/4)

>>17825291
(3/4)

“The two of us would check in on her tree from time to time; made sure it survived each winter without becoming a deer’s breakfast or a bear’s back scratcher. When she was 8 years old, it was taller than she was; a few years later it was even taller than me! You know how you kids mark your height on the wooden doorframe, well this tree marked its height in people...and soon it as tall as a Grampaw with your mom on his shoulders. She wanted it to be the tallest tree in the whole wood, but it takes many many years for a tree to grow that big. I told her she’d...she’d have to live to be an old old lady to see it that tall.”

A lump choked Kyle’s throat and he closed his eyes tight, Mike gave the his son-in-law’s knee a firm squeeze and lightened his tone. “Has your dad showed you how to count tree rings? Great! In the middle of this table the very first ring is from when your mom planted this tree. It was one year old, and she was almost four. What comes next?”

“Two?” Aiden chimed in, eyes finally off the ground.
“That’s right, keep going.”
“Three,” He continued, pointing to the next ring
“Four” Lily added her new favorite number
“That was the year it was taller than your mom”
“Five. Six.”
“Taller than Grandpaw.”
“Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.”
“We moved to a new house that year”
“Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.”
“She went off to college that year”
“Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.”
“She introduced me to a nice boy she met”, he glanced Kyle’s way.
“Nineteen. Twenty.”
“She and your dad got married”
“Twenty One”
“Aiden was born that year”
“Twenty Two”
“Then Lily”
“Twenty Three”
“That was the year your mom got sick.”

(3/4)

>>17825300
(4/4)

“Your mom hadn’t visited Wood’s Woods in years, but when she was in the hospital she kept telling me her dreams about her tree. She dreamed that it was the tallest in all the woods, home to birds and squirrels and bugs. But being so big was making it very tired, and it needed to lay down to sleep.

“Before she passed, she asked me to scatter her ashes to help the tree grow. I need a glass of water, I’ll be right back”

Kyle praised his children for being so good for Grandpaw, sometimes they looked so much like Elle it hurt.

“Okay, so after the funeral your dad and I went out to Wood’s Woods for the first time in years. I could have walked that path with my eyes closed, but when we got to the spot where her tree should be, the whole earth was torn up! What we found was an enormous tree, the largest I’d ever seen in these woods, had uprooted and fallen over.

“I knew it couldn’t be your mom’s little oak, but I had no memory of any other trees that size. When we cut through it, though, we discovered how special this tree was. There are no rings here. I believe it grew alllll this,” and he gestured to the opalescent white wood spanning the gap between the last of the 23 small rings and the very edge of the table “while your mom was in the hospital, dreaming.

“In that one night, this tree soaked all the water and soil into itself and reached as high as it could toward the sky. Elle was just like her tree, quick and bold and far older than her rings. Your mama’s magic is in this table and it’s in you too.”

Mike knew the kids wouldn’t get it just yet, but it was important that they begin to reconnect with her now. As Kyle shepherded them through the evening ritual of pajamas and teeth and hugs, Mike took his leave. Out in the crisp night air, he peered back through the window to see Lily’s figure tip-toeing down the stairs to the living room to kiss the table goodnight. It took him a full ten minutes to pull out of the driveway, the damn tears wouldn’t stop coming.

>A talking pink animal goes into a brief adventure that he enjoys very very much
1/3

Nelly is a pink elephant. He wears a beige overcoat, which he scuffs slightly on the elbows as he struggles to fit down the alleyway. He's walking behind a block of flats on the other side of town. He waddles halfway down the alley, and toots his trunk at a cardboard box on the floor.

"Prooohp. Wake up, Barnaby."
"I'm up, I'm up. One second."

Barnaby is a fox. He lives in a box. Barnaby has a £50 a day crack cocaine addiction. A metallic clunk is heard, then the flushing of a toilet. Barnaby steps out of his box.

"I fucking love Crocburger. Man I'm starving. Right, let's go." Chirped Barnaby cheerfully.
"I'm starving too. Been a few weeks since I had a Crocburger." Said Nelly.

As they left the alleyway, they turned and head to the end of the road, then turned at the corner.

"What you been up to then Nelly?"
"Same old thing really. How about you?"
"Smoking vast expanses of crack, and also stealing crates of spirits from pubs to sell for crack. So yeah, same old same old."

Nelly and Barnaby crossed the street, bump bump bump went Nelly's big elephant feet. They turned the corner, and carried on.

"I can smell it from here."

At the end of this road was Crocburger. Crocburger was Barnaby's favorite. As they got closer, the fanged face of Croc Hoskins smiled down at them from the big sign, the neon edge of his top hat flashing on and off with a hot pink buzz. They walked into the drive-thru lane.

"Hello there, can I take your order?" Crackled the speaker in the menu sign.
"Hi, can I have one smiley meal please, with an extra small coke."
"Allllright. Anything else?"
"Yes, can I have 40 big bite supreme boxes and a barrel of coke please."
"Oh, hello Mr. Tuskford. We'll bring it out to your table in a moment."

After a few minutes two members of staff appeared with a wheelbarrow full of burgers, and a blue plastic barrel of coke on some trolley wheels. Barnaby grabbed his paper bag from the top of the burger pyramid.

"The fries are underneath the burgers Mr. Tuskford."
"Thanks."

Nelly grabbed a burger with his trunk and popped it into his mouth.

"You gonna take the paper off of those big man?"
"Erm...no."

>>17825589
2/3

Nelly then stuck his trunk under the lid of the barrel, and through the plastic Barnaby could faintly see the level decrease by ten inches or so.

"So, the other day right, me and Pete were in the back of that fancy bar in town, The Enclosure. We're loading all these 24 boxes of beers bottles into his van." The barrel dropped by another ten inches. "We must have put like 30 boxes in there right, I go to find the toilet, I open the bloody door to the next room and it's full of crates of whiskey and vodka and that. So I'm like, for fuck sake, that's worth a lot more. So I show Pete, and we unload the whole fucking van to start again with the crates. Nightmare."

Nelly chuckled at the thought of such a scene, and scooped up 5 burgers with his trunk.

"Do you wanna buy a crate of whiskey later? It's nice stuff."
"Hmm, *munch munch*, I fink so, yerr." He took another 10 inch sip from the barrel. "I'm really not much of a drinker, but I like a few bottles of whiskey now and then." He grabbed another wad of burgers.
"He's a funny bloke that Pete. I mean he's sound and that, just he's got no teeth."
"Hno teef?"
"Yeah he's just all gums."
"You mean he's an ostrich?"
"Nah he's a ginger cat. He's just got no teeth from smoking crack and he's mental."
"Oh."
"Yeah, he's been to the loony bin and everything. He's alright though."

Nelly shoved a pile of fries in his mouth.

"His mum's got loads of money and that, but she's mental as well."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, he was telling me his grandad had a massive house and owned a big hotel. He sold it all and had a fair bit left to his kids when he died."
*munch munch*
"He can play the piano pretty good."
"This Pete guy?"
"Yeah he used to have lessons when he was a kid. You wouldn't think so to look at him, but yeah. He was playing the keyboard round our mate Steve's house. He was so pissed he could barely stand up, but he could still play alright."
"That's funny."
"Haha yeah."

Nelly ate his last 2 burgers. "I'd like to play an instrument, but I'm not sure I have the perseverance." He finished the last few inches of coke in the barrel. "Also, I would probably smash them all to pieces by accident."
"Yeah there is that. You can play the trumpet already though."
"Haha. PROOoooOOOHPH."
"Stay still for a sec." Barnaby hid behind Nelly as he ate his fries, and huffed a rock of crack through a small jar with a tube sticking out of it.

>>17825591
3/3

"See, the thing is, I smoke loads of crack. And that's not good." He blew the smoke out. "But that doesn't compare to the evil of Croc Hoskins. This shit here is an illicit habit forming substance and he dares smile down at us as he peddles his wares to the enslaved masses."
"He is the master of puppets." Replied Nelly as he inhaled his final kilogram of fries.
"Fucking delicious bastard."
Nelly stood up and adjusted his coat. "Alrighty."
"You want a box of whiskey then?"
"Yes yes."
And Nelly and Barnaby strolled back the way the came. Bump bump bump went Nelly's big elephant feet.

My prompt is -
>A man with an orange for a head

Yeah I saw one of the prompts was about a drive through and I used that in some conjunction with the pink animal idea, pls no bully

>>17825310
it was confusing in the beginning as to who was talking and to whom. sweet little story, though. nice take, too.

>>17825831
surreal, i liked it

>>17825602
Haha, I liked it, especially the – sometimes almost childlike – descriptions of the elephant.

>>17825602
Loved it! The mix of storybook and Tarantino-esque pulp dialogue is perfect!

>>17825602
>>A man with an orange for a head

Will have this tonight

>>17815774
>>A very dramatic drive-through order
Gonna give this a whirl. First time writing in a week. What's the total count of entries at?

>>17825272
>>17825300
>>17825291
>>17825272
Really sweet story. Was not expecting that ending. Love it.

i want the japanese company man story

>>17815774
>>the life and death of a fishing boat

If it could possibly be titled "The Life of a Shrimp Boat" that would be greatly appreciated

(1/2)

The Life of a Shrimp Boat

The salt stung strong as it clamped down on the throats of the crew. The air crisp and cold against the shivering February waters. They had woken, debauched and swollen, as they sailed at the crack of dawn. Hoping to catch better waves. Better puddles and valleys of shrimp the further adrift towards the sun. The floorboards creaked and groaned. The heavy thundering footsteps of weary bloodshot men moaned in bleary symphony. The salt had stung thick, but it did little to deter their greedy and growling souls. Restless and unforgiving in their hopes of granted bounty for their troubled woes.

The old and weathered men knew their risks. Knew the tale of the luring sea. Knew that as one spent longer on the water would they sooner submit to the fate of the black abyss below. The slow chug of the motors drew out large lazy ripples of the sun. The rust ran deep past their knuckles. They had only kid themselves to think they wouldn't get swallowed whole.

For the sea was unrelenting.

The net sent, lowered, clunky and large as it sank past the waterbed. They waited in tired silence. Dreams of nets engorged and bleeding lulled through their minds. Hopes for waves of red and orange flowing the deck with shrimp gnawed at their feet in rapacious eager.

The net came up.

Empty.

Silence held them still for a moment.

With the sputtering tug of the ship, waves of creaking and groaning and muffled moans broke out in unison. The boat started up again. It's humming roared against the waves. Gloom pushed its way past the throats of the crew, making its way heavy, full and fat in their bellies. They would have to go further out. Further out past the rocks. Past a brush with death if they wanted to feed their families plump and bursting with pink shrimp. They only need be willing to wage a bargain and take their heavy chances with misfortune.

>>17829925

(2/2)

The captain howled against the muddy skies. Slammed against the splintering wind. The crew held their ground in anticipation, fear trickling down the nape of their necks. The waves crashed harder and the sea sang louder. Until the vast empty mountains of water gave way to jagged grey clamping teeth. The wind whipped, the ocean roared. Water thrashed and throwed until every passenger left drenched to their bones. Left musty, cold and bloated.

The ship cried out in agony as it slammed amongst another clawed pillar. Jagged, worn and unrelenting in it's strength and ferocity. If they could steer past the treacherous waves a little further it would be worth it.

But the sea swallows all that it lures.

They would feel no joy for their pain.

Another crash. Another groan. This time jagged rocks pierced metal. Water drank down the boat. Filling to burst. The crew roared in shame. The rafts thrown out. A flair lit the sky.

With possessions stored and towed to safety, the boat left an empty swollen casket. The waters opened their large welcoming arms. The abyss caressed the rusted tomb to it's grave. The sea lures all, and every one of them submitted to it's cold unrelenting fate.

My prompt is -
> A frog falls in love with a dog who's in love with a worm

>>17825591
I loved this, really reminds me of the dialogue in Of Mice and Men with Lenny

>>17827055
>>17827408
Thanks anons

>>17821735
Sandman reporting in, been busy the last few days. I'll read through the prompts tonight see about contributing some more tomorrow hopefully.

So OP, how many stories are we at?

>>17832912
I think 44

>>17833648
So close!!

It may be time to revive the discussion of the title and cover (pic related was from an anon’s suggestion in an earlier thread). I recommend we look through the submissions so far and try to identify some common theme.

I also liked the idea of keeping the X and Y structure of the title.

Here are a few ideas I had relating to either the anthology so far, or the image sent (The Prectitioners of the Visual Arts):
>Anatomy and physiology
>Bits and bobs
>Rag and bone
>Tooth and nail
>Gifts of fire
>Practice makes perfect
>Memento mori

>>17829806
I am the anon who is writing this story. I'm having some trouble with the ending but, if all goes well, I should have it ready before the end of the day.

>>17833648
I have 40, not including *s

>>17835296
Cover looks good. I like the font. Title is always tricky but X and Y is a good format.

>>17835463
No rush anon (unless we are near 50). I believe in you

>>17829925
Very bleak. I like it. No hope or twist of fate.

peenor

>>17822497
Thank you anon, I greatly appreciated giving him quirks - I figured a Roman goose would be well read in his own culture atleast! Did you know, the geese at the temple og Juno alerted the guards to the intruders, and saved the republic at the First Sack of Rome?
Assuming you are >>17825272 as well, I'm astounded by how quickly you put such a beautifully thought out story into words. I'm excited to share your story with my s/o anon, thank you!

>>17823394
Indeed - I should not by surprised, if he thought himself a tad more Stoic than he truly is

>>17823901
Thank you! I'm glad you took note of it, I've been quite excited for that line myself!

>>17836068
So glad you liked the story! It’s a really cool feeling to see someone make something from your prompt.

I tend to think about the stories for a bit, and write them in a few hours. The idea started with a tree with no rings. Then it was the mom’s tree, but I couldn’t figure out why he would cut his daughters tree down, then I made the tree so big it fell when she died.

Writing these are always fun puzzles.

>>17815774
Saw one of you anons on the iro board advertising this project. Best of luck to you all.

>>17835296
I like the title Rags and Bones

>>17815774
I'm going to try That's not a horse since it's so open and i'm a noob at writing

>>17838210
I like it too, kinda juxtaposition with cover art

>>17838210
It’s my favorite as well.
Some interesting background on the term here:
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rag-and-bone_man

>>17839185
Yeah I think the juxtaposition is nice and matches with the style of the cover, though I'm not a big fan of the vignette.. Not sure if that was added on after or if thats how it is in the original peice

>>17839242
The last cover did have a vignette, though it was more subtle. The final will have the same look as volume 1 (only change will be the image, color, and title)

>>17831883
>a pair of hawks guide a flock of sheep
I'm going to try and work on this one tomorrow, and I won't even go for the low hanging fruit and just write about American politics.

>>17815774
This is it. If I write one more word, it'll be the furthest in this story I've ever been.

>>17839223
There was a rag and bone man who came down our road in London a few times. He had an open back van/truck and collected scrap metal.

>>17840010
I live in Baltimore, I feel like there’s a dozen of these characters that come by my street every day...we just don’t have such a poetic name for them.

Bump

>>17841057
Bump x2

>>17839707
Excellent, looking forward to it

[*not for the anthology*]

I hope you don’t mind if I took this in a bit of a less literal direction, since we already have a toilet head flash. The seed (wink) of the prompt is still present in what follows.

>>17828051
>>>A man with an orange for a head

DR’s Letters #109

Dearest readers,

I am committing the following hypothesis to paper not because I believe it has any literal basis in reality, but because I can personally attest to its utility as a metaphorical framework. I have tried in vein to half-explain this revelation to colleagues, and hope that by a more careful and full approach I may better enable you, the reader, to glimpse the truth of the world as I do. I entreat you to read the following with an open mind, stopping, as needed, to reflect on how this hypothesis (metaphorical framework) aligns with your own life’s experiences.

In the great tree of life, the branch which yielded the human fruit (homo sapiens, first ripening in Africa 300,000 years ago) lies nearly 10,000 km and millions of years distant from the the one that bore the first Citrus (most likely in Southeast Asia). Nonetheless, these two very distant cousins retain some striking physical and moral similarities which, upon deeper inspection, have forever changed the way I perceive the two species. There follows, obviously, a number of intriguing theological, sociological, and dietary implications, but these must wait to be explored in full within a subsequent paper. The task at hand is to make and defend my hypothesis (metaphorical framework) rather than to burden it with all manner of second order corollaries (the discovery of same I found to be a most gratifying exercise, which I would be loathe to prematurely spoil for the enterprising reader).

So here it is: my hypothesis (metaphorical framework) is that there exists a direct relationship between the varied types and personalities of H. Sapiens on this planet and the many species and cultivars of Citrus Fruit. From the all-to-human skin-like dimpling and puckering of the Citrus pericarp (rind) and varied coloration of the exocarp (skin), to the striking physical similarity of the Citrus segments to the lobes of the human brain. Humans are, doubtless, of a much higher order of complexity than the Citrus, yet I seek to prove that each of us can be reduced to an archetype represented by a citrus.

(1/3)

>>17842149
(2/3)

I’ll begin with the clearest case: Lemons. Already, we can conjure a series of common adjectives (e.g. puckered, acerbic, sour) these are the type-A humans who appear sweet and pristine only as far as their zest, but beneath the bitter pith lies only acid. Some, such as the Meyer Lemon, present a mix of both sweet and sour, but the citric acid is still the predominant flavor. While I do not which to lend any credence to the long-debunked study of phrenology, I have discovered in the facial features of many these Lemonine humans a distinct lemon shape extending around the mouth, from under the nose and the top of the chin to the severe dimples formed at the corner of their thin, elongated mouths.

Limes, on the other hand, while even more bitter inside are a much less deceitful fruit, as their small, green exterior presents a perfect picture of what you should expect within. When I look for examples of the Limonine human, I see the American cowboy, strict school masters, ascetic nuns, and the famous Japanese salaryman. These sorts are not distracted by personal enjoyment, but will actively detest such frivolities. They simply aim to discharge their duty with a maximum efficiency. This all refers to the Kaffir and Key limes, of course, as Finger Limes warrant a separate discussion entirely.

The vast majority of H. Sapiens fall into the various sub-classes of Orange. The interplay of sweet, bitter, and sour which exists to various degrees among oranges is also the very struggle moral philosophers have engaged with for millennia.

If ever there was truth to the notion that cherubim walked among us, it can be seen in the Mandarin Orange. Pure sweetness in a fragile, thin skin. These are one of the oldest lineages many other citrus emerged from. I have not encountered a Mandarin humans, but writers are constantly conjuring such sweet innocents to be led as lambs to the slaughter.

The Clementine or Tangerine is as close to the heavenly Mandarin as we are likely to see walking the earth. Skin slightly thicker, and vesicles more acidic, these humans exhibit a smoothness, wit, and genial nature that are altogether absent in their more acidic brethren.

(2/3)

>>17842160
(3/3)

The commonest of citrus fruits, as well as the commonest of people, are the sweet oranges. While there are many varieties, let’s focus here on the (Winter) Naval Orange and the (Summer) Valencia Orange. Both are preoccupied with external appearance and flavor, and so they lack some of the complexities and bitter notes found in their less overspecialized cousins.

The naval Orange, despite it’s outward perfection, hides a bizarre flaw. Within, there is an entire deformed twin, reabsorbed into the host (oh, what Freud or Jung would say to this!) making the opening and slicing of such an orange a macabre affair. A similar horror lies within each stranger one passes on the motorway, or stands behind i. The grocery...a sleek, smooth appearance a sweet nature, yet concealed within a dark secret worthy of PT Barnum’s picking jar.

The Valencia Orange is as advertised: plump, round and juicy. These are not the cleverest or the noblest of specimens, but they have an honest, kind, and giving nature. I find myself an optimist, thinking of most of humanity as a Valencia Orange (and putting the whole Winter Orange business out of mind until proven wrong).

Not all hidden depths are bad, however! The Cara Cara and Blood Orange appear to be ordinary on the surface (neither the hansomest nor the ugliest of cultivars) but one discovers an entire world beneath the skin. Brimming with complex, but not overwhelming, sweetness and sour, they are balanced in a way that few other orange varieties (or humans) are. These are the scholars and thinkers among us.

The Sumo Orange and the Satsuma are both quite misshapen and impenetrable, I imagine an old crone or a isolated hermit - yet they may be the most delicious of all. They have all the sweetness of a mandarin, but are cut with such a myriad of tart and bitter and toothsome notes I struggle to place them exactly. Suffice it to say, they are proof that books, fruits, and people should never be judged by their exterior.

Oh, dear! There is so much more to explore, but I’m afraid they are about to search my room! I must quickly stow this pencil and send this missive out the window (I do hope you have been collecting, collating, and disseminating them as instructed in letter #14)

Ever Yours,
Diogenes Reborn (Red Grapefruit)

>>17815774
>Santa's sleigh enters a no fly zone and is shot down deep behind enemy lines.

I'd like to test my pen on this prompt. If I don't post anything within 48hrs, consider me out

>>17842171
This was great, terrific work!

>>17842149
>>17842160
>>17842171
“On the Oranges of Species”

>>17842983
kek

>>17842171
ending made me chuckle

Okay, we’re on the home stretch! Here are the most recent unused prompts:

>A former viral star struggles to extend their 15 minutes of fame (>>17805854)
>A politician fantasizes about world domination (>>17751015)
>A boy is forced to dress as a maid to save the world from an alien invasion.
>A Mexican, a Jew and a black man walk into an Irish pub
>An ice cream man sets up shop outside a union job site in a rough part of town
>A truck driver picks up a clown off the side of the road
>An old book cafe becomes the favorite hangout of undergraduate English majors
>A man tries to sell lucid dreams to someone (>>17769364)
>The entire world is put under the effects of DMT (>>17822414)
>A poker game where everyone cheats
>Santa's sleigh enters a no fly zone and is shot down deep behind enemy lines. (>>17842498)
>The daily life of a japanese company man (>>17788507) (>>17829806)
>Sometimes, doing the exact opposite is the answer
>That's not a horse (>>17838392)
>a pair of hawks guide a flock of sheep (>>17839707)
>a church closure (>>17817577)
>a bouncer at a busy nightclub has an unusual night
>11 Feds at a Klan Rally of 12
>A frog falls in love with a dog who's in love with a worm

>>17839223
Fun fact:
The illustrator of OP’s cozy image (Chris Dunn) also has an image of a badger as a Rag and Bone man.

(Not suggesting it for the cover, just think it’s a funny coincidence)

>>17844168
>An old book cafe becomes the favorite hangout of undergraduate English majors

This prompt seems amazing, I don't have the literary experience to write something thoughtful with relevant context to the prompt though. I hope someone decides to put their /lit/ expertise to the test.

Also a reminder, that everyone's welcome to write the same prompt if they wish to. Book one had several II's and III's which were interesting - don't let yourself limit by someone having already written a story from the prompt you're interested in, or simply someone calling dibs.

>>17845044
I had an idea on it I’d like to explore, if you don’t mind it being a [*] one (I’m well over my cap). If you just want to take the idea and run with it, feel free:

There’s something about the smell of old book stores. It’s well known that smell triggers memory, but inhaling the books in this store can give you knowledge you never had before. Just open the musty yellow pages of Homer and breathe in and you *were* Odysseus, the grades in this class began to soar (until, eventually, the delinquency absence and dropout rate took hold).

What sort of twist may be possible from this? We’re students drawn to degeneracy through romance novels? We’re they able to share personal memories by writing in journals? We’re the multiple lives and deaths causing mental dissociation?

Lmk if you’d like to try this out, sometimes it’s easier to write with more of a plot in mind....if not, I gladly will!

>The entire world is put under the effects of DMT
I think I'll have it done on Wednesday

>>17844168
>>Sometimes, doing the exact opposite is the answer
got about 300 words written so far for this one, planning to have it finished by the end of the day

[*not for the anthology*]
>>17845359

Couldn’t resist:
>An old book cafe becomes the favorite hangout of undergraduate English majors

Ms. Bourdeau slowly walked the isles of desks placing graded papers face down, occasionally underscoring her marks with choice words of praise or disappointment.

Heather knew she did not do well, the dense archaic language of Shakespeare was so impenetrable she gleaned what she could from half-watching a few old movie adaptations. Still, the C- and the ‘you’re better than this’ made her blush in shame.

Behind her she overheard a rare “I’m very impressed, great work!” as Ms. B neatly deposited a paper on Shawn’s desk. He quickly crumpled and stuffed it into his messy bag. Since when did Shawn Jessell impress anybody?

She approached him after class, they hadn’t spoken before but she found it easiest to just feign familiarity. “Hey Shawn, how’d you do?”

“Oh...uhh. Alright, I guess.” He was clearly not ready for conversation. She was expecting an ‘and what about you?’ but he was already head down and on the move. She gave chase.

“It sounded better than alright. My parents are going to kill me if I don’t start bringing home A’s. I don’t want this to sound bad, but whatever site you’re using I need it too. I’ll pay you.”

Shawn slowed to a stop, and looked at the time on his phone. “$250. And it’s not a site.”

She knew he was a stoner but what kind of habit required $250?

“Trust me, that’s cheap. It works on all classes. I’ve been hoping to show someone, you’re just the only one who asked. Venmo me and I can show you now.”

“Show me first.”

(1/2)

>>17846420
(2/2)

Shawn shrugged and kept walking. She didn’t know if he was walking away or leading her, so she just trailed awkwardly a few paces back. He trudged down the stairs and pushed through the double exit door without glancing back. He crossed one street and then another and eventually made it to the Bookmill, a small cafe and used bookshop in Horner’s market.

He turned back, not surprised to see her behind him, and opened the door for her to go inside. The first floor was full of figures hunched over laptops, nursing eccentric mugs of coffee (she was not a coffee drinker, herself). It was hard to walk through the clutter of chargers and book bags that spilled into the footpath, but Shawn pushed through this and was making his way down the iron spiral staircase to the lower floor.

The rich, bitter smell of roasting coffee and toasted bread gave way to the musty attic smell of old books. “Your secret better not be telling me to read these. You buy your own weed.”

He pulled a small dog-eared book from between two encyclopedia volumes. And turned to her with a conspiratorial grin “Who needs that shit anymore? This one’s my favorite, I hide it here.

“’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe.” He looked at her expectantly, “What happens next?”

She suddenly became very aware that they were the only two people down here and he was acting very weird. “Is that more Shakespeare?”

He didn’t answer her. “You know how smells make you remember things? Cow shit makes me think of a summer working on my uncles farm, popcorn makes me think of playing pinball in front of the movie theater. These books all have a different smell, and each one makes you remember the book, even if you never read it.”

“Here, I’ll let you smell Alice” and he fanned the yellowed cracking pages out in front of Heather’s face. She had enough of this and was about to turn to leave but she felt a sneeze coming on and inhaled sharply.

Kittens.chessboards.mirrors.srorrim.queens.tigerlily.faster.faster.eighthsquare.ticketsplease.tweedledum.tweedledee.carpentersandwalruses.rattlebattle.crow!ohohoh.impossiblethings.sheeps.shops.eggs.humptydumpty.unbirthdays.jabberwock.crash!Fourthousandtwo hundredandsevensoldiers.unicorn.lion.plumcake.monster!aknight.ahoyahoycheck!haddock’seyes.crowns.queens.dogs.fiddledeedee.puddingalicepudding.shakeshakeshakepurrr.wasitalljustadream?

“ACHOOO!!!”

Shawn looked at her expectantly. “All mimsy were the borogoves...” he said in a patient voice.

Her mind was wheeling, and not just from the sneeze. It’s like her brain just rebooted and she had to recover who she was before she could speak. “And...the mome raths outgrabe.” She could hear herself saying it and only later connected that person ‘Heather’? ‘Alice’? With the voice.

She sat on the floor silently for a minute, then pulled out her phone. Shawn’s pocket pinged, $250 was just added to his account.

>>17846454
wow! really liked this one

bamp

>>17815774
this is my 5th and final one.
https://pastebin.com/q6F8WZEB

I understand it's not exactly dramatic like the prompt said. I won't hold it against anyone if it doesn't make it in the book, I think we're up against it for slots.

>>17847105
>A very dramatic drive-through order

Forgot to tag that

>A boy is forced to dress as a maid to save the world from an alien invasion.
Damn. If only it was allowed to be lewd.
>11 Feds at a Klan Rally of 12
>A poker game where everyone cheats
>A truck driver picks up a clown off the side of the road
>A Mexican, a Jew and a black man walk into an Irish pub
This is just cruel.

>>17847105
>But one last time turned into several one last times

Ooof, that one hits close to home.

>>17847390
The story of man

>>17847105
>>17847166
Got it, will read in the morning

bumping with a * story (too gory for the book)

>A truck driver picks up a clown off the side of the road

[I’ve been traveling down I-70 for hours now, but I need to put some distance between myself and the police before I can rest]

Dale had seen plenty of hitchhikers in his time as a long-hauler, but this was a first!

Spackles knew his oversized glove made his thumbs-up gesture impossible to miss, even this late at night.

[That was a messy business. I really need to get myself under control. I’m starting to lose my grip entirely when I’m in that state.]

Dale flicked on the hazards, shifted into low gear and started to apply the brake.

Spackles couldn’t believe his luck! The truck was really stopping for him!

[What is this guy thinking?]

Dale gestured for the mental patient to step up. And asked where he was going.

Spackles clambered in, the shoes and bindle getting hung up on the door frame. The idiot driver asked his destination, and he rattled off some lie.

[I know I should not tempt fate so soon, but this opportunity is to delicious to resist!]

They rode in silence for nearly an hour, listening only to the occasional garbled chatter of the CB. It was a precarious stillness neither wanted to be the first to break.

[Please allow me more time, time to dream and devise new ways to punish this fool for trusting a stranger. The things I will do to him make my toes curl in anticipation.]

Dale broke first, “Need to gas up soon. Need anythin’?”

Spackles just shook the bindle, “Got all’s I need right here.”

[Time was running out, this had to end before the truck refueled. Too many people, too many cameras. Things get so complicated when you leave the safe isolation of the road]

“So what’s your deal anyway?”
“What, you mean this? A job’s a job. No offense, but I much prefer my line of work to yours.”
“That’s fair enough...not everyone is cut out for this. But I can’t imagine doing anything else!”

[What’s ‘my deal’? You’ll find out soon you patronizing some-of-a-bitch! You, of all people, think you’re better than me?!]

(Will post the conclusion when this thread needs another bump)

>>17815774
Is there a particular website for flash fiction?

>>17848527

Spackle had his right hand in the pocket of his baggy multicolored pants. He cleared his throat to conceal the noise of unsnapping the sheath of the skinning knife.

[I will enjoy this far too much...I can’t let myself get out of control again, but he’s practically begging for it!]

Dale saw the clown’s fidgeting from the corner of his eye, and fingered the safety release of the bear spray in the door pocket. It’ll be bad for him, too, using it in the cab like this...but it should buy him enough time to grab the pistol stowed behind the passenger seat.

[Oh, the delicious suspense! Those quivering moments when the mouse has stepped fully into the trap yet the mechanism has not yet sprung...]

Ahead there was a sign indicating road construction on the next overpass, the bump as the semi switched between grades would provide the needed distraction for the strike. He had to move before the other suspected anything.

[Here it comes...]

*BA-BUM*

With a practiced motion, Spackle drew his knife with a flourish and ambidextrously tossed the blade from his right hand to his left.

Dale, with inhuman reflexes was somehow already spraying the chemical cocktail directly into Spackle’s comically wide eyes.

[How did he know I was—?]

Despite the searing pain and loss of sight, motor memory and many nights of practice trained Spackle’s left hand to deftly catch the knife and raise it to the truck driver’s throat.

Dale, seeing the clown’s eyes close pulled the pistol hidden inches behind his head, making a point of cocking it so close to the freak’s ears that the blinded fool would know the score.

[What is happening? It’s almost as if...]

“Wait, we’re you going to...”
“No! I was planning this whole time to...”

Spackles grip on the knife slackened as he began to cackle like a madman. The bear spray now overwhelmed Dale, as he too had to close his eyes. He could not tell if the tears were from the pain or mirth.

The laughter filling the cab was so raucous neither heard the hum as the semi’s wheels glided over the rumble strip.

[My Brother!]

The front of the cab made contact with the concrete barrier and ricocheted back into the lane. The jolt caused Dale’s gun to discharge and Spackle’s blade to puncture the driver’s carotid.

[Oh, how I have totally mis-judged you!]

The momentum carried the payload straight, jack-knifing the cab and chassis. Dale was crushed into the steering column, while Spackle, missing an ear and most of his left cheek, continued his manic cackle. The semi careened through the overpass grardrail, leaving great gashes in the siding of the trailer, before rolling and falling 20 feet onto the desolate 3AM country road below.

[What a most satisfactory end!]

Bump

>>17849361
>>17848527
Well done, thanks for that one. I was really fond of that prompt

>>17848527
Kek.

There were some parts:
>“So what’s your deal anyway?”
Where it was confusing to follow who was speaking

>>17850207
Sorry for the confusion, I tried to make it work both ways. Read it with Dale as the first speaker or Spackles and it should still make sense.

Maybe mixing that with the ambiguous/dual first person narration was a bit much...

>>17839707
>>17844168
>A Pair of Hawks Guide a Flock of Sheep
This one is a bit if a departure from my last story. I study a lot of folklore (especially indigenous) and I'm currently trying to flesh out a world I'm building for a larger body of fiction using flash and short stories. It's a little experimental, but I figured I'd try my hand at a story styled as folklore this time:

https://pastebin.com/rfuXyBgR

>prompt: Planning a mundane errand begins to sound like an epic tale

>>17847105
Damn, this is good. I think there's a lot of drama. It's subtle and handled very well. Had to check if he did order that shake or not.

>>17850849
Wow! I am floored, that is an incredible story and perfect folklore structure.

We’re there any bits from other stories, or is this from whole cloth? The bit about challenging both to fly and get the grass fastest seems like such a clever device it must have been used in other tales.

The story is so open to other directions, I was kept constantly guessing which direction it would go. (In fact, I could imagine this as a 50 page choose your own adventure...with each decision the rams, hawks, and crows make leading the reader to a new ending)

Which other stories have you done?

>>17850849
Immensely based. Loved it. My only complaint, and it's super nitpicky, is that the hawk said hours. It always throws me off when critters have knowledge of time measurement. But again, that's like a sparrows fart in a hurricane. Totally irrelevant. Great story.

>>17851643
If we’re adding nitpicks (and I’m the commenter above who absolutely loves this story) the line
>Ram stepped forward.
should begin the next paragraph, just to separate the strong hawks’s voice from the ram.

Also agree with >>17851643 on the reference to hours.

Zero criticism intended, just want to help get this gem cut n polished.

>>17851555
‘crows’ should be ‘trolls’

>>17851555
>>17851643
>>17851880
Thanks a lot! I really appreciate the critiques, I'll take all the help I can get! I definitely could have put a bit more polish on this but I didn't want to leave OP on the hook for too long. I also wrote "Entrance of the Sandman".

As for whole cloth vs bits from other stories, it's a little bit of both. As I said in my original post, I've studied folklore pretty extensively (BA Anthropology). A lot of myths and folk stories explain how things came to be, and the transformation of animals (such as a hawk to a raven) is fairly common place. As for the plot device of fetching the plant the quickest, I don't know that I've ever seen this one used, but a lot of folklore involves tests and trials in similar ways.

Thanks again for the feedback!

>>17844168
>A frog falls in love with a dog who's in love with a worm
This has potential for a fable á la Aesop. Unfortunately I'm not well-versed enough in his work to be the one to write it.

>>17852191
>>17850849
Can't wait to read this one! 42/50 now.

bumpity bump

bump

>A boy is forced to dress as a maid to save the world from an alien invasion.

My gaze darted around the dark room, wholly dark but for the painful contrast of the one beaming spotlight, portraying me in my mind as if on a stage before friends and family, before millions, past and present, future and time without. I was naked. Naked, and me a fragile thirteen years of innocent living, now subject to this glaring light in this darkened room. My knees overlapped, my hands cupping for privacy my yet pubescent genitalia. Wide eyed I stared about, not knowing who--or what-- might be staring back.

"The uniform, soldier."

I heard the voice, divine and penetrating, and my eyes are turned toward my left where, lo, a clothing rack stood with but a single outfit hung upon it. Instantly I know what it is, and how I must don it, as if I had done many times in many dimensions before and yet to come.

I would must become the maid once more.

>>17829806
>>17835463
>The daily life of a japanese company man
(1/2)

He pulled the trigger, and it felt ephemeral.

He could see his dead body, but the more he looked at it, the more indifferent became that putrid envelope that was gradually fading away. Disintegrating, while his whole being melted into black.

When the darkness - at last - took over his universe, he contemplated the emptiness. And he felt happy, for the first time in a long time.

Overtime and pay cuts are over. The screams of his wife and the inquisitive glances of his companions; were a things of the past. They no longer echoed in his brain.

By a quirk of fate, the peace that he had sought so much in life could only be found after his death.

Report, he smiled. Or, at least, he thought he did.

Wrapped in such thoughts, he cared little or nothing if he had to spend a million years submerged in the deepest of silences. He was one with the abyss... But, to his misfortune, that union would not hesitate for long.

From one moment to the next, the poor devil was sucked by an inexplicable force. That, for no apparent reason, was dragged him far, far away, from the eternal void. Guiding him towards a mysterious light, whose origin seemed to go back to the beginning of time.

At first, the man tried to resist. Clinging to the nothingness with the memory of his former members. When the wretch realized that his body had completely abandoned him, he wanted to cry. But his eyes were a thing of another time.

Defeated; he was forced to abandon any kind of resistance. Resigning himself to be dragged into that enigmatic light. That slowly consuming everything around him. Transforming the surroundings of his non-existence into what can only be described as an endless tunnel of fire.

As the darkness dissipated, out of the incandescence, voices from another time began to emerge. The suicidal could not understand what they were saying. Nor could he remember having heard them before. But there was something about them that he found strangely comforting.

In his delirium, the unfortunate thought he heard things like: Calm down; take a deep breath; you're doing it right; you have nothing to worry about.

As the words became more legible, little by little, the man began to relax. The tunnel became narrower and narrower. The darkness, finally, was finishing evaporating.

When the poor man began to decipher the whole of the sentences, the darkness was completely disappeared. The light was nowhere and, at the same time, it was everywhere.

>>17854328
(2/2)

When he woke up, he realized that the hospital lights were pointed directly at his eyes.

With difficulty, he looked away. His eyes were hurting. His head was spinning round and round. His whole being felt like a useless piece of shit but, in general lines; he could still make out what was cooking in the horizon.

Around them, a man dressed as a doctor was reviewing what appeared to be a medical file. Unconcernedly, a couple of nurses were whispering to each other. Everything seemed relatively normal until the poor bastard noticed the bulge growing out of his navel...

And his eyes were fixed on the stupid face of his new father; in the retarded glances of the nurses; in the stilted smile of his new mother.

When his feeble ears heard the doctor's routine congratulations to his new parents, the reborn frowned…

And began to cry.

>>17846262
Not sure if it really fits the prompt, I got a little carried away with it's interpretation so I hope it's still okay

(1/2)

She buried the proof in a pile of leaves, desperate to erase the evidence from her troubled weary mind. She hadn’t meant to, not really. But perhaps in the back of her sunken depraved brain it was what she had wanted.

The lump, now tucked neat and tidy and away sat beneath her feet. It gleamed back at her shamed eyes. The pile looked a little too orderly for her liking. A mound of organized debris would draw more attention than intended. With breaths laboured and fearful, a brisk glance and sharp looks, she bent down. Two clammy trembling hands shoved deep in the dirt. She gagged at the grimy slick muck which tugged at her senses. Arms soon pulled back, textured and stained black and brown. A putrid fume hung over the air around her. Standing upright she admired her work.

Now the leaves looked perfect. Ruffled, loose. They looked back up at her as if to scream that, yes, they were regularly frequented by nature and undisturbed by humans, how could you tell?

With washed out eyes she surveyed the rest of the backyard as she made her way out. Brambled bushes lined the fence behind her. It wasn’t until she found herself halfway through the yard that she caught the gaze of a neighbor.
A much too curious and over eager neighbor.
Miss Frindlebottom was a large lady with a larger booming voice to match. Currently she sat, hard at work attending her tomato garden. Or, she had been, until she caught sight of the frazzled girl whose hair had littered with twigs.

>>17854663
(2/2)


“And what might you be up to?” Miss Frindlebottom asked. Nose held high and unrelenting. “You’ve gone and mucked up your dress. Does your mother know you’re out here?”
Pale with fright she stepped back at the implication of her mother. Steel eyes looked over the small frailed frame with discrete indignation. “No doubt you’ll be set straight once she’s seen the mess you’ve made.” Miss Frindlebottom sniffed, head lifted higher. Nose pointed higher. “Better get cleaned up before she sees.”

Anger began to welt at her skin, bruised purple and bright with shame.
She never did like Miss Frindlebottom. Neither her nosey indications or snide judgment compared to the perverse pleasure of authority she sought after. Clawed after. Though the other two were close contenders.
As quick as fear had swallowed her it just as quick spat itself out. Wrenched itself from her bowels. Leaving the little girl covered in sticks and mud with a bright red face. Heated and angry. Her fists clenched as the fury boiled from the bottom of her belly.

Who was Miss Frindlebottom to tell her mother what she had been up to? Who was anyone to say what she had done? Accuse her for doing wrong?
She’d done nothing wrong. Only what she had wanted. Her reaction at the time might have left her scared and confused. But she knew better now. Was better now.

As the steam rose and the bubbles boiled over she had found her resolve. No longer ashamed she took a step forward, head held high. Eyes unabating. A promise. A threat.

"You'll be next."

Miss Frindlebottom met her gaze with frightened confusion. Then after a moment shook her head whilst making a 'tut tut' sound as she busied back to the tomato garden. The girl made her way inside to watch some television. The strangled rabbit a mess in the bushes.

>>17854663
>>17854328
>>17850849
Gotta read all of these!

>>17854328
>>17854345

I really enjoyed the ending! For a bit i thought he was really disappointed he was heading for heaven (preferring purgatory)...but this was so much better!

>Report, he smiled.
Didn’t get this line, was that supposed to be a different word?

>>17854663
It’s a good story, but (as you say) I’m not connecting the dots between it and the prompt.

I’d like to hear how you linked the two. It’s not obvious to me, but that doesn’t mean there’s not an interesting connection.

>>17855006
Thanks for the good vibes, anon. I'm glad you like it

>Didn’t get this line, was that supposed to be a different word?
Sorry for the mistake. The correct phrase is: "Formless, he smiled. Or, at least, he thought he did".

>>17855127
That makes sense!

I was like, ‘I guess he’s really sick of doing reports’

>>17855054
In my head the little girl was going to be afraid that she had killed her pet rabbit and wanted to hide it but was then going to just end up telling her neighbor what happened? I'm not really sure honestly, I had too many ideas floating around and kind of just gave up on trying to connect it to the original prompt. I think if I had put more moral dilemma with herself it could have been conveyed but my stamina for writing ran out around the 3/4 mark

I guess sometimes stories don't turn out , but thats just the process

>>17855303
I think the story came out just fine! It just decided to go in a different direction than the prompt started. Good on you for following it.

>>17855468
Thanks for the reply, that's a very encouraging perspective and it honestly made me really happy to look at it like that. Maybe I'll try out another prompt after class tomorrow

Hey guys I'm the anon who picked up the Lucid Dreams story. I'm still working on it but I doubt I'll make the deadline of 50 stories cause I had an aneurysm and have been in the hospital. Glad to see the project has so much steam and can't wait for the next one.

>>17855751
So sorry to hear that, i hope you’re doing well! If you were hoping to get into vol2, i’d say give it a shot. It can take a while to get 5 new ones...worst case scenario, you just wrote the first story of vol3!

Idk if you're still in the hospital, but i encourage anything that keeps you occupied and connected...it can be a strange blur of boredom and urgency. Time works different in there, and it helps to have a project to keep you sane.

Best of luck!

>>17855751
You will persevere.

>>17857412
What a cute cat

>>17857412

>>17854663
>yes, they were regularly frequented by nature and undisturbed by humans, how could you tell?
anyway, you should give a hint at the start so the ending becomes an 'aha' moment instead of something confusing and unrelated. the brown muck and putrid smell at the start made me think she took a shit in the soil.
and i'm afraid i didn't feel any of he fear or guilt if that was your original aim, especially since we had no idea what she was hiding. the story didn't have much going for itself either. i say draw up a simple outline to organize your ideas next time.
you do at least seem to have some rough sense of prose. polish it, keep writing. i'm the prompter.

>>17857621
Suggestion:
First line: She hated easter.

That may be enough of a breadcrumb to carry through. Could also say she hid the ‘red, matted proof’. I did find the lack of a description there a bit hard...i read visually so ‘proof’ doesn’t help me see it. You could find a creative way to describe the form, vaguely, without giving it away. Or have her worry about dogs finding it (and taking the blame from her)

>>17857621
>>17857656
thanks for the suggestions! They make alot more sense now that I'm reading it over

>>17844168

Almost done with my Santa story. Should have it finished tonight or tomorrow

>>17850849
This is so good. It reads just like a fairy tale from a book. And it has great stakes/drama from the start. I didn't guess it was going to end that way.

>>17854328
Depressing as hell. Although I suppose it also has an optimistic note. Some nice poetic lines in there.

>>17854663
I realized after reading this that I like stories about psychopath children. Good buildup and payoff. Story lingers in the mind after reading. Also the girl's voice comes through strong.

>>17857412
Very cute cat, and such fine taste in literature too.

>>17855751
Wishing you the best and swiftest recovery!

>>17858085

Finished my story. It's about 200 words over the limit so I'm going to edit it and post tomorrow.

>>17858627
Sounds great. Interested to see what you did with the prompt. It's a dramatic one that could go a lot of different ways.

Flash fiction idea: A cockroach wishes to be a human and his behaviour is becoming worrying to his fellow cockroach friends as he spends most of his time observing people rather than doing his cockroach tasks

>>17859223
Cool idea, but I feel like that prompt is a flash fiction on its own!

How about:
>A cockroach wishes to become human

Bump

I haven't posted in the better part of a year and never written anything creative professionally or longform at all and have to go to work in like ten minutes but I wrote up an introduction to the frog prompt, if it's good enough I'll finish it tomorrow
Below the Mason-Dixon line, past the Applachian, flowed a river, one of the many tributaries of the Mississipi. The character of this aforementioned tributary was alogether pleasant: her bed was deep and wide, her waters fresh, running not still but not so rapid as to be a hazard. So pleasant was this river that a great many organisms proudly called her home: reeds, lillies, and other foliage feed from her, and from them bass and pikes, along with a variety of insect, fed, and from them fed man, bear, frog, and other predaters of both land and sea. So it can be said that this river was the source of all life and prosperity in these parts, a veritable goddess of fertility, a living breathing goddess, that you can feel, see, taste, a goddess that will clean you of your taint, cool your blood and calm your heart, carressing you with the gentle beating of her current. It is within the domain of this godess that the animals themselves seem to come to life, with thoughts and emotions all as complex as our own; speaking like us, talking like us, living in their own little civilizations, with their oen little problems. And this brings me to the matter of three perculiar ones, the rog, the Dog, and the Worm.

>>17860727
Keep going!

The voice is perfect (i cant help but to read it in a slow southern drawl). Getting some strong ‘over the garden wall’/uncle remus vibes.

For a first try, you sure picked a hard one. The intro is easy...trying to connect the worm, dog, and frog will be a trick. Looking forward to seeing how you do it!

>>17860727
I'm really liking this so far! Can't wait to see how it goes from there

>>17815774
(I don't know if this is long enough to get into the anthology, but I'll post it anyway)

>Sometimes, doing the exact opposite is the answer II

The girl you like is wearing a Sailor Moon t-shirt and a pink skirt. Her skin is pale as snow. Her eyes are green like emeralds.

She is standing in front of you. You and she have spoken a couple of times but always about insignificant issues. Of course, for a long time you have wanted to tell her that you want to be more than friends.

Today, at last, you have gathered enough courage to approach your beloved and ask her a little question. A stupidity without any relevance.

When the girl is about to answer your question, you check your pocket, take out a Kleenex...

And you don't hesitate to chloroform her.

>>17856986
I have the first Ducks Story, Hacker Gets Into God's Email, Skeptic II, and Girl Discovers Skirt that Travels Through Time. I wanted to give five in though cause I'm OCD like that lol can def add it to Vol 3.

I have an idea. I know this is anonymous. But what about getting either Waldun or F Gardner to do one? Might boost the traffic for the next one and get more readers.

>>17861960
It definitely would help with readers. But it doesn’t seem fair that they’re not anonymous. I’m torn how I feel.

>>17861960
I haven't read either of their books but they're eternal memes. So technically it would help. We don't have any way of contacting them though. Sadly, it's a moot point. Probably unrealistic.

>>17862033
For all we know they already have contributed...

It would be funny to be able to say ‘one of these stories may have been written by...’

>>17854187
Me: it’ll sure be hard for someone to work a maid costume into the story without it getting lewd
This guy: okay, so we start with the spotlight on a naked pre-teen boy...but we gotta keep things classy, right? So we put him in the maid outfit to cover him up! Genius!

In all honesty, the build-up toward that last line is perfect. Doubt it’s going to make the cut, but you get a ‘kek’ from me, anon!

>>17862654
Yeah, but that would be false advertising. Last thing we’d want is to suddenly get sued. Better to just ask, if we really wanted to try that. I have no idea about Waldun. But Gardner can’t be impossible to contact. He has ads every day, so it’s probably possible.

>>17862776
Yes, just a joke

>>17861960

>>17861960
Or to raise traffic we could try and make a social media account? And post ads of new releases. Obviously we would try to aim for keeping things civil and could follow writing prompt accounts or other writers to get into that demographic

>>17859204

>Santa's sleigh enters a no fly zone and is shot down deep behind enemy lines.
(1/3)

He should’ve been dead, or at least, mortally wounded, but when Santa came to, all he felt was a vague sense of confusion, as if he overslept on a subway and woke up at the wrong station.

“Well I’ll be damned… Jango! Looks like he’s gonna make it!”

After confusion left his eyes, Santa saw a shirtless man sitting cross-legged on the desert floor. His curly, white hair glowed with the same hue as the moonlight illuminating the cloudless night sky.

“See I told you he’d make it through.” A different voice came from Santa’s left. Another shirtless man with short hair, was rummaging through Santa’s sack. He made a quick movement to stop him but found he was standing with his back to a pole, his arms and legs bound.

“What do you think you’re doing?”, Santa roared. “Those are precious Christmas presents for the good boys and girls. Put tha--”

“We know what they are, Santa. Jango is taking real good care of your presents, aren’t you, Jango?”

“That’s right, Jocko”, the man said, still opening up boxes.

“What's that supposed to mean?”, Santa said indignantly.

“Come on old man don’t play a fool. We knew you delivered toys but who would've thought Santa was keepin the really good gifts to himself?”

Santa was quiet.

“I mean”, the man continued “there’s enough cocaine here to make it snow year round; gives a whole new meaning to ‘White Christmas’, don’t it Jango?”

“It sure does Jocko”, the other man said, still going through his stuff.

“And that’s not all we’ve found. What else we got, Jango?”

“Molly. Percocet. Weed. Xannies. And a whole lotta cash in different currencies.”

“Goddamn Santa... are you wrappin’ or rappin’? Hahahaha! You like that one, Jango?”

“That sure is clever, Jocko.”

Jocko was slapping his knee and laughing uncontrollably.

“Hahaha! Santa! When you said ‘girls’ and ‘boys’, were you talkin’ about Casey and Harry or cocaine and heroin? Hahaha! Jango! I’m on a roll!”

“You sure are rollin’, Jocko.”

>>17864909

(2/3)

"So Santa," he began seriously, "help us understand something. Now Jango here has it that you’ve been flying around all night moving product and taking a nice chunk of change as a service fee. Now, I think that’s an obvious conclusion given this here evidence. I mean we shot you out the sky from just outside Sin City. There ain’t nothin' in this area but titties and test tubes.”

“And sand”, added Jango.

“Well I suppose there’s that too but I doubt he would come here for the shit version of snow. I figure you're not only moving the stuff, but using it too. A drug dealer that doesn’t test his inventory is like a butcher that don’t eat meat.”

Santa remained quiet.

“And by using, I ain’t just talking drugs." Jocko pointed his bony finger at Santa. "You like to get your dick wet, don't you Santa? Hell, you probably get tired of deckin’ Mrs. Claus’ dusty-ass halls 364 days a year that you feel a young piece of ass is well deserved. I know I would."

"I wouldn't", said Jango. "Wouldn't be honorable." He stopped looking through the sack and sat down next to his brother. Santa noticed his feet shifted soundlessly in the sand.

“Well you aren’t as human as the rest of us, brother. But Santa knows what I'm talking about, don't you Santa?”

>>17864930

(3/3)

Santa had begun to slip his hands out the rope. He could feel the glock he kept for sticky situations like these hidden in his right boot. He needed to buy some time. “Who are you boys?”

“We’re some of your biggest fans, aren’t we Jango?’

“Were some of his biggest fans”, corrected Jango.

“I stand corrected. We were some of your biggest fans. You see, when we were younger, we wrote a letter every year, usually just asking for water or warm blankets because it gets real cold in the deserts and water is hard to come by. But you never did come Santa. Why do you think that is, Jango?”

“Well Jocko I suppose it’s because we were homeless. We didn’t have a chimney, let alone an address. He probably didn’t get the letters we buried in the sand, either.”

“Hmm... logical as always, Jango. But I figure the benevolent ol’ Saint Nick wouldn’t let something like that stop him from helping a pair of homeless children, would it Santa?”
Santa played along. “Maybe it’s because you were naughty children. Tying me up like this sure isn’t nice.”

“Well you’re not wrong there Santa. After we grew a little we realized you were never coming. And if you weren’t going to help us, well, we were just gonna have to help ourselves. But here you are now, and I’m gettin' to thinkin…”

“What are you thinking, brother?” asked Jango.

“Brother I’m thinking, hell, maybe I could be Santa. I mean, the reindeer aren't gonna do much flying being dead and all, but I figure I'll just walk the earth handing out gifts.”
Santa burst out laughing. “Hahaha! Young man you couldn’t be Santa even if you legally changed your name. Look at you. Who would believe such a skinny stick like you could be jolly Saint Nick?” His hands were almost free. “You must be blind! Hahaha!”

Finishing his staged guffaw, Santa felt the air shift.

“Well it’s funny you say that…”, said Jocko.

Santa felt the night go dark, as if the moonlight was dimming.

“W-what the hell?” Santa's body convulsed. His vision started to fade. All he could see was a figure coming towards him, like a train slowly pulling in a tunnel. The figure's face met Santa's. His eyes had no whites, just two dusty, sand-colored marbles. He couldn’t avert his eyes. He felt stranded in a duneless wasteland, oppressed by a heavy sun. The heat had seeped into his pupils and we're burning within. He tried to scream, but his throat was rough as sandpaper. There was no death, only suffering.

>>17864956
>>17864930
>>17864909
Nice twist! You did a great job adding Santa's glock. Having it there adds a lot to the tension.
>Santa noticed his feet shifted soundlessly in the sand
makes the sudden ending feel more complete

>>17864909
The dialogue here is so great!

I’m getting a Harry and Marv from home alone vibe (very Tarantino). Idk if it’s just because I’m reading Jocko in Joe Pesci’s voice, but I keep expecting “you ain’t as human” when i see “aren’t” and “when we was younger” when i see “were younger”. (Though “we /were/ you biggest fans” would probably stay as-is for emphasis)

Also:
>were you talkin’ about Casey and Harry or cocaine and heroin?
>were you talkin’ about little Billy and Suzie, cause all i see in here is ‘Cody’ and ‘Molly’!

Well worth the wait, such an excellent scene (makes me wonder what was in the 1,200 word ‘director’s cut’)

>>17865195

Thanks. The contrast between Santa's feet and the brothers' was unintentional. I didn't realize it till you pointed it out.

>>17865233

I think those are two good edits. I don't mind you making those changes.

>very Tarantino

It's funny you say that. The Hateful Eight is my favorite Tarantino movie and pic related served as a kind of inspiration for Jocko and Jango.

>>17849361
This is genius

Updated table of contents

>>17865362

>a bouncer at a busy nightclub has an unusual night
I'll take this one if it's all the same.

>>17865362
>>17865379
Sweet

>>17865379
>>17865362
Just a suggestion for the titling:
"to," "into," "with" should be uncapitalized, while prepositions making up phrasal verbs should be capitalized, namely Blocked In (14), Wake Up (19), Made Up (28), Takes Up (35). Longer prepositions (between, after, inside, around, through, behind, etc.) can either be capitalized or un-, it's your call.

>>17865478
Which style guide is this? I'm using AP

>>17865478
>>17865621
Fixed the phrasal verbs. "To" etc. should be capitalized I'm pretty sure based on the most recent AP guidelines.

>>17865341
Thanks, it was a pain to keep all the voices coherent/separate...but a fun logic puzzle to work out.

>>17844168
>a bouncer at a busy nightclub has an unusual night

Didn't really take full advantage of the prompt I don't think, but here's my attempt, hopefully someone does something more fun with it.
>>17865426
"I.D.", he says, more muscle memory than concious effort. He looks more at the person handing it to him than the date on the laminated card anymore. Red Dreads and some heavily cut yeyo in his pants judging by how runny and red his nose is. "Alright, step through metal detector, you will be able to pay the door fee after."
He's been working this job and jobs like it for the past 5 years. At first he found it enjoyable, there was plenty of oppurtunities to expand his social network. In some ways the job istelf could be held accountable for how outgoing and confident he had grown to be. On his, birthday about 6 months ago, he decided he would try a year sober.
It had been an enlighting period so far, but not particularly enjoyable. It took little time discover many of his friends from the past 5 years were little more than bar aquantances and drug addicts. The time he used to love at his job started to be stretched by repition and medicority. Each shift feeling longer than the last.
"I.D." as Tarquin's Hyperglycemia blast through the doors to the club. Black Hair, a croptop and a choker, all these outfits blend together. "Step through the metal detector you can pay your door fee after"
He forget why he got sober sometimes, then he thinks of the stick and poke tattoo on his pelvis that says EMILY WAS HERE next to a red heart. A permenent mark from what he hoped to be the last in a long line of terrible relationships with alcoholic schizophrenic women. The relationships were more of a side effect than a cause of his bottle to mouth lifestyle. Spending so much time under the influence seems to have left his brain emotionally catatonic. He hopes it will go away someday.

>>17867382
"I.D",he looks up and almost as if his thoughts had conjured her Emily is standing right there. She looks at him desperately, he looks right through her. "Step through the metal detector, you can pay your door fee on the other side"
"I've been doing better since I moved out and taking care of myself, I need to talk you about something" she says.
"Step through the metal detector please" he says, and she does.
He asks himself why he has kept this job, so often it is a constant parade of ghosts from his former life. He is a creature of habit though even if he has left his habits behind.
As the night drags along, he and his coworker have to break up one fight, and throw out 2 drunkards for throwing up. That's about par for course for a Friday night though. Closing time is finally here and it's time to clean up.
One of the bartenders finds someone cold and blue on a couch in the back in the club. The doctors will later say they had cocaine and fentanyl in their blood. He sees that it's Emily and he feels very little. He wonders what she wanted to talked but not with much conviction. Would he have always reacted this way? Was he built to feel like a numb bastard or did his decisions turn him into one. He doesn't believe the answer will offer any closure.
...

I don't know how to format things for posting on here

>>17865362
>>17865379

>>17865691
I'm not sure, but I've always seen to uncapitalized in book titles

>>17867382
>>17867391
Nice anon. I think you did a good job. The introspection for the character and changing perspective on life is interesting, and the ending is great. I listened to Tarquin's Hyperglycemia while reading. Pictured the character as a /fit/ poster.
>bottle-to-mouth lifestyle
good line

>>17861960
>>17862004
>>17862033
Better yet, get a booktuber to review the anthology -- they might actually do it because they could use a clickbait title like "4CHAN wrote a BooK?!? my thoughts" and it's a bit different, could intrigue viewers for them

>>17868137
>they could use a clickbait title like "4CHAN wrote a BooK?!?

Tbh, not a bad idea...

>>17868659
Looked at a bunch of channels, they appear to be completely mainstream and cringe. The guy who reviewed Walden’s book could be cool but there’s no way to contact him. Need to find a small channel with a way to msg

>>17868712
If only there were some way to get in touch with youtube content creators....

https://boards.4channel.org/vt/[/ spoiler]

Nope, no ideas.

>>17868815
Never been on /vt/ before...
Clicked that link
Nope.