/lit/ - Literature

Metalor looked outside of the window.
He only saw the universe and nothing else.
Never questioned it. There weren't any questions, only answers.
"Being is an answer by itself" he thought to himself.
The universe never before had such little meaning.

>"Being is an answer by itself" he thought to himself.
>The universe never before had such little meaning.

That's the opposite of little meaning.

Silver Gnome was his name, he lived no further than the edge of mountains that bred rainy nights.
His love for yellow socks and wide drawers were known across the kingdom.
The kingdom had 36 thousand kings, the Gnome was the only citizen along with the two executioners.
The off-duty executioners started singing on the public holiday of "Porcelain Weekend", which was held every year.
As the singing was getting louder and louder on each cup of enriched wine, Gnome's ears were being shattered until the point
he got cancer.
The doctor-King told him to kill 3 foreigners to cure his cancer.
And so the Gnome embarked into his journey of healthy diet and other things to come.
His little feet didn't helped him, the deeper he went into the forest of Goodbye, the thicker the fog, humidity made his breath
heavier.
The leaves were covering everything, leaves were the only thing he could see, leaves and fog, all directions looked the same.
Until he broke a tooth by stumbling to a sword that was forced into the ground.
As he gained clarity he noticed a faint shinning, a body lying right next to it, he got closer and to his amazement, it was a sleeping knight.
The knight had his left foot bent behind and right foot slightly bent forward, if someone were to peak up from a tree it was like he was running.
He was a comfy knight, that he was.
All the sweat in the Gnome's face formed into tiny rivers, as his face was -for the first time- outrageous, his eyes were popping,
his mouth was trembling drenched into saliva, he sneaked near the sleeping knight and took his own worn out long yellow sock off from his smelly almost disfigured feet and stuffed it in the knight's mouth with all his hate infested strength.

In the gray and pale scenery you could notice a burning red dot, the Gnome's head, as it was filled with primitive unimaginable bloodlust.
The knight had a dead flower in his belt, the retiring from the maniac rage, Gnome, ate the flower and felt really weird and apologetic to the flower.
Turned away and walked for few minutes and forgot the knight, he was content.
All he had to do is to kill two other foreigners, they were already dead, the Gnome never found the cure, lived forever as the knight with the silver armor.

In the summer it rained and in the rain at night the city was even beautiful. We walked along the paths that twisted along the riverbank and though there were staggered lights they were far apart and upon reaching them we again discovered that their promise of security was false.

>>4055580
Both esoteric and vague, well done. You might be an unintentional prose genius.
>>4055598
Interesting retort, kept it well under the fifty word limit.
>>4055604
You had one fucking job.

>>4055604
I don't anyone who lacks reading comprehension to know how to write good prose.

>>4055604
amateur, fun, gripping.

>>4055616
>>4055617
>>4055618
s-sorry, i have written few times in my lifetime, this is one of them, wrote it last year.
Didn't want to cut it down.

>>4055578
In my mouth, her big toe was like a crustacean. Tender like rare steak, I nibbled half expecting my palate to orgasm from flavour, her bulbous foot-digit to burst and ooze with succulent juices. She giggled. It was drowned out by my phallic slurping. I slobbered like an excited Alsatian having it's prostate milked. Oh exalted lord of multi-limbed deities, I wanted more! I grasped the ribald skin of her creased sole, crusted and flaking from bootless walking, and thrust the remaining strings of her cloven ukelele in my mouth. Oh how harmonious was our joy! My ocean tongue played the bays of her toes, sweeping against those cheese-based cliffs, like chords in a chorus to Aphrodite. I was overwhelmed by her pungency, like sour cream left in the sun; my friends, I could no longer hold myself back. I widened the jaws of hunger, as though a sphincter of insatiable fecal flow, and took her in her entirety, that floating galley of bedrock anchored to my soul; I beg you picture that wooden wrought boy lost in the belly of the beast and maybe you shall know how, it was I taken captive by her.

Time was a precious commodity, the young girl already too aware of how limited her stay on this planet would be. An hour removed from the middle of her life to spend reading a text book might just as easily have been a year taken from the end of it.

>>4055653
3dip9me

It made me remember her. How I would push my fingers through her mouth to make those muscles move that made her voice so smooth and sweet. I kept these memories where we don't know, like secrets sleeping in winter clothes. Oh how I loved her so long ago. Now she doesn't even know my name.

Rumbling. Boots slapped the concrete for its passive audacity. Legs were counting the slaps; sets of threes. One slap was for the concrete’s being there, the second was for its just being. The third was good luck.

>>4055825
I like the rhythm of this.

>get 50 words
>45 words are unnecessary fluff that makes you look silly

>>4055825
WHAT A BEAUTIFUL FACE I HAVE FOUND IN THE PLACE

>>4055825
r u jef magnum?

>>4055636
fucking purple as fucking fucks fuckily.

It's a little over 50 words. From a story I wrote a while back about a baptism in a creak.

They fled to the creak like Nymphs, crawling and leaping over one another in a bid to break its waters. The skin of the sinner was shed, cast aside and sent to drift downstream toward damnation. The fresh faced holy man wriggled out of it, hopping through the reeds and back onto the banking, to live out his life until it was time to shed again. And then there was he, the almighty dragonfly, standing precedence over the crowd, too pure to break the water himself and too righteous to shed anything more.

The young toad swims in the water whilst the aged turtle relaxes on the sand. Enough eggs between them hatched to raise the moment's question: whose eggs were they?

>>4055866
yes

Your father made fetuses with flesh licking ladies while you and your mother were asleep in the trailer park. Thunderous sparks from the dark of the stadiums; the music and medicine you needed for comforting. So make all your fat fleshy fingers to moving and pluck all your silly strings.

The canoe rocked violently, and it was this undoing that flung the King into the lake.
The water consumed the King, the Musician, the lowly deckhands, and the royal guardsmen alike.
It was the water that drowned them all, but it was the fish that ended the King's reign.
"For the fish live such virtuous lives," thought the King, "that all of my wisdom is rain atop an ancient ocean."

3 divine facemonkeys with spears and sticks named Apollo bacchus Zeus
sit near lolifem 3rd millenium newgods cirno marisa chen and the reimu hakurei
playing the new one by ZUN

The world with machinations says the old
twisting RED pointless immoral
new ones disagree say
bitch and smegma
cum guzzling father molesting loli

Says the world has unto changing shapes
metamorphosing dormant NEETs
Says the old wise but square the new like water
Says the younger and the younger says naught

Says the Apollo unto these girls
they are but images whereabout red machinations
the antique blue the images of mens mind
unto death must come those with little white fat interests
interests in the younger by the line and simple colourings

Says Apollo yon must die
But in mens mind nothing but the screen and in womens nothing but the tree
Says this must end more must come
through 80s and 90s said more and more

But nothing comes
but the gentle hum of the computer modem

>>4056293
Better than mustard I suppose.

I learnt more about myself looking down the barrel of a gun for ten seconds than I did in ten years of reading and reflecting. Casting my mind back, the only things that stood out were the myriad different instances where I'd actively choose the flattest road, the calmest sea, the fairest meadow. Fuck

A bumblebee droned round the room and landed on a window sill, its hairs resonating with the hum of a thousand men chanting in unison. Specs of dust whirled in the air behind it and settled on its crystal wings and back.

>>4055578

Wha shood i? Wha shood i make me a dog to dis rich fools. They in their fancy cars and hoity toit mansions larger than ma dreams ever let me dream. Shoot, i darsn't even kno how much they truly stock in dem king-size houses.

Im trying to capture a 19th century slave dialect, did it work?

>>4055604
10/10 top kek

In this thread, let's attempt to impress one another by writing our own god-like prose composed of a maximum of fifty words.

People keep telling me to get my car painted; the clear coat is peeling off. I would, but I'm hoping, secretly, that once it's finished molting, it'll turn into a butterfly and the world will be graced with a flying car.

>>4056429
Nice idea. Last sentence is a little stilted.

As the pick fell the velvet noise of satin reminded her of the occasions when she, also, had fallen. Fallen, only to be stopped by a cushion or perhaps a bed. A dreary thought. How tiresome it must have been.

some times I feel like going to a park and waiting for a man to come by with a dog.

I will say, that is a very good dog. Maybe it will not be a very good dog.

I will tell a funny lie about a man's dog.

It is a joke.

It slowly dawned on him that the switch had flipped, and he'd indeed gone on. Yet the light went dark, and he saw only forms now. Only those forms and faith were left to him. So he took a step in the dark, and ran.

I know this isn't great, but someone tell me if this is redeemable, or worthless.

>>4055636
A little heavy on the similes but otherwise rather well written.

>>4055847
Then you might like this.

It was going to bug Peter all day: He had to do something awesome for three girl roommates without spending money. Taking them to a park is free, but they could always go on their own, but that is the trick, motivating them to want to go to the park.

Man looked at the world under the eye of a microscope and realized that order was the only constant.

>>4055847
>>4055825
>>4056508

OHHHH SHIIT

>>4056508
What? Am I missing some epic /mu/ meme?

>>4056611
THE epic /mu/ meme, haven't been back in awhile but hopefully it's played itself out a little bit

it's some folky rock type stuff from the 90's

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6H8WcTPnWM

Her voice resonated with sweet nothings thinly veiled in a menacing rasp, a larks tongue suspended in aspic, plucked from the craw of a meadow's lamenting bard as it sings in the lone cottonwood where sat below some forgotten kaiser, the intricately detailed bronzework armor taking it's place as a new skeleton for it's form as the sun bleached bones lose their form from rot and porosity. The land itself weathers and pulls them down to it's alien sands. Vines from the floor of the meadow slither through the fingers like sentient krakens dragging the capsized vessel of an ancient soul to the arboreal depths where its stories can be assimilated and regurgitated in the emerald green of spring alongside countless volsungs and Argonauts.

over 50 i know but i just kind of rattled it off until it was finished, any thoughts or criticisms?

shit son
where did you find this

Can someone tell me what they think about the trailer I made for my book of short stories please?

It's very short I promise

http://vimeo.com/13845435

Bird butt swung a heavy axe through three more kids head's. Welp That's enough keids Choppins for todai! He exclaimed and went about going home.
He had acquired 22 kid heads today. he was worried about their scarcity though. How many kids can I chop before they run out? he wondered. His home in the kingdom of glaek was modets but welcoming to him. He lived next to a silly dragon.
"HAllo Silly dragon!"
"fuck your shit you child murderer!" the dragon was tethered to his house somehow and BB did not know why or care. He simply always said hallo.
BB feasted on the child heads before flinging them to the ground like bottle caps. He sighed and wondered when daegriz would be by to collect the skull pieces.
Outside the town churned. Churned as it always did. Churnily. The churning consumed some,a nd repelled others. THose that chose to say were somtimes called masochists.

it's ok if mine is just exposition right? 50 words is bullshit.

also thank this fucker >>4055604 for the absurdity and fantasy theme. I'm currently writing a fantasy themed thing but it doesn't feel right. This felt inspired though. If not just fun to write.

>>4056654
>head's
Hooulee shit, here come's an S!

>>4056654
if anyone wants to read more I'm writing more. It's just cumming out. AUGHGH oOOooohg

hslublulgdkjd... dlhdlg lgs.ag...nnk.knbkn.k.nn.k.nkxnknknkn.knkxn.kx.knknk.xnk.n.kn..nn.kxnx.k.nkxbn.kn.kn.kbxnkbnk..nk.nni.in.ninidinnn.dnidn.inindni.din.dndkkn.nd..knbkn.knbkn.sb.nsndbslnlnkblknbklnknb.nn.kn.nk.nkk.n.kn.nn..nnn.khvvh.vgj.gccgj.cgjv.vjj.jbbkjbk..kj.koii.jiuiyu.y.uhugukbkbk.bkkb.bbb.kjb.bkkbjk.b,mn,m,.m.n,l.lij.jj.j.j.lj.ljjkjkj.k.jk.kjjkjkkjkjl...bk.kkvhkvk.khvvh.kv.khh.k..v.v..v.vhkvkhhv.hccfuy.f.ugy.gyg.ygggygykygyk.gjkj.b.kk..kbjbkjb.kjbk.bjkbjkjbkjkjkvkjk..vkkvj.jvhvjhjhhjbb.kjknnjkjn.njnjkknjkj.kj.kbjkvjkj.vjvjvkubu.bn.imm.i.nkjkjkjj.b.bjk.bbk.k.kv.h.jjhbn.nkjnkjnjn.

do u guys think i have the potential to make it big in the avant-garde community?

Everyone was standing around, holding styrofoam cups. Jack looked over intermittently, and every time he looked she turned away from his general direction, to talk to another friend opposite him. Feeling defeated, Jack began watching the digital clock on a desk, stagnant but still whirring along inside, in its digital and logical nature, for its own arbitrary purpose.

>>4056696
its purpose is to tell taime. IT WAS MADE TO DO IT/

also stop projecting your beta-tude onto this board

>>4056624
you lost me at "intricately detailed bronzework"

is this whole thing a similie for this girl's voice?

>>4056343
I only like that last line....

>>4056404
our own god-like prose composed of a maximum of fifty words

>>4056558
Any deeper than the micro and he would be frightened of the pure chaos the ordered laws of being seem to be structure atop of, like a castle founded in dry sand.

>>4056670
Woe to his cantankerous cankerous pancreas! He should pull rank with it, he decided, let it know what for. Remove it, replace it, displace it... Christ, he'd settle for misplacing it! But of course that was mere jibberjabber, gibbering jab, blathering chatter; one could lose mouth organs not vital organs he concluded. He was deluded if he thought it possible to elude him; simply the illusion his mind alluded had him be-mused. Spletch. He retched on the floor, his wretched body wrecked.

>>4056558 #
Any deeper than the micro and he would be frightened of the pure chaos the ordered laws of being seem to be structured atop of, like a castle founded in dry sand

>>4056705
honestly i just started typing until i wanted to stop, smehow i went from comparing a larks tongue to a grils voice to the remains of an ancient warrior chillin under a cottonwood tree

>>4055578
What is the secret to happy living? The key to living a happy life is convincing yourself of your superiority to others. A man achieves happiness when he surpasses his neighbors in areas that he values, be they wealth, knowledge, physical prowess, or whatever else one can imagine. A man’s pride in his accomplishments and talents is what keeps him mentally stable, for who could tolerate to live a purposeless life? All of mankind ought to be more narcissistic and self-interested, and focus on self-improvement. Truly, loving one's own self is the secret to being happy in life. The worse off others are, the better your life seems in comparison.
I wish I could be happy with myself, but I cannot. I am 37 years old with nothing to show for it. I am penniless, stupid, overweight, physically weak, and too demure and socially retarded to even attempt finding love. My accomplishments are so few in number that they can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Calling them ‘accomplishments’ is an overstatement. My only talent is feeling sorry for myself. Everything I try to do results in failure, so I figure it’s better to not even bother. I am a disappointment to my parents, who haven’t turned me away only out of the charity of their hearts. Every waking moment is unbearable. My life is an unending period of passive melancholy, which is eventually broken up by intense bouts of depression and grief.
My only panacea is the Internet forum /pol/, which tells me of my superiority to various groups: the Jews, the feminists, the liberals, the Negroes, the boomers. The forum creates straw-men and de-humanizes entire groups of people. It is incomparable in the realm of inciting anger and hatred. Those two emotions are infinitely more preferable to the lethargy and sorrow of my daily life, so I keep coming here to get away from my own failures. Life is only going to get worse from here on out, and in a few years, I’ll regret not committing suicide earlier.

It was a dark and stormy night. A night for pondering and mischief and murder. A night that was quiet and loud at the same time. Samantha put on her make-up while hearing her husbands abuse which was currently nonexistent yet still present. She though tearfully of her imminent revenge.

He shot her in the face.

Four times over the span of an hour. Once wasn't enough. The bitch kept coming back.

Bitch. He didn't think of her as his bride anymore. He just wanted to leave before he ran out of bullets.

Room sealed. She got up.

Postponing suicide.

>>4056883
>It was a dark and stormy night.
Why start with such a cliche?

Swiss lick, delicate and verbatim anus assuaged and I holler, "Fruit cake!' Warm milk on my nipples my balls dipped in spaghetti.

"Chink? Marilyn white thighs and brassiere of hate," I heard too soon and came - a thousand little girls being killed.

A lonely trickle of rain on the top of a clean blade of grass. The pleasure recedes.

>>4056936
parody

For hours there was silence, not a squeak or a weep to be heard. Outside, the morning turned to noon and noon turned to evening. And the evening seemed to bring closure to thought; his head rose again from the tabletop, shrouded by the outside darkness.

An icy chill pervaded through the black night; cold except for the unnatural hot wind blowing south with the scent of acrid smoke. Through the dark starless sky slightly covered by clouds, intermittent moonlight shone on to the thick green forest revealing, little by little, a snaking trail of destruction. Burnt and broken tree stumps lay on the ravaged path - some still burning with small flickering flames -as well as fallen branches and other debris interspaced with giant animalistic footprints.

Everyone stargazed before the exodus. Earth’s glow used to be mesmerizing. Now, looking out the window was boring. “Fuck space” thought Ivan, while the peas floated away from his plate. He discarded his meal. Locking his helmet in place he walked towards the airlock. Panel number five needed repairs again.

THE FAT MAN
by Corncob McMurphy

The fat man went up to the counter and asked the mowhawk man behind the counter, Do you have any hamburgers.
The mohawk man looked up from what he was doing and lit up a cigarette and spat and passed the back of his hand over his forehead. I caint offer you no hamburgers.
Well.
Well.
Well why the fuck not?
Thems been outlawed in this state slong with six otherns.
What the fuck do you think youre tellin me.
Im tellin you hamburgersn outlawed in this state.
The fat man pulled out his revolver and pointed it at the mohawk mans forehead and thumbed back on the hammer and let his index finger press lightly on the trigger. I said youd bettern get me some hamburgers or Im gonna blow a crater outn the back of ye skull.
I told you mister. I got no hamburgers to offer you.
The fat man fired the gun. Blood splattered against the wall behind the mohawk man like a maroon portrait of death and the mohawk man fell backwards and his back hit the wall against the blood and he slumped down to the floor dragging blood down against the wall with his back.
The fat man leaped over the counter and stuck the revolver in the front of his belt and knelt down over the body of the mohawk man and checked his pockets. His pockets were filled with spaghetti and meatballs.
Well. The fat man spat. Thesen better than hamburgers I reckon anyways.
The fat man ate.

there was only one thing to say, there was nothing there, he couldn't believe his eyes

>>4056944
A parody of what? Shit writing?

I did a shit. It smelled like shit and looked like shit. it was a shitty shit.

>>4056988
silly, but i laughed at the
Well. Well. part.

>>4055604
>>4056988

>>4056974
>Eating peas in space

That's dangerous yo.

He could feel the tightness in his hamstrings. Dressed in his Slavic garb. Pyotr sat, crouched upon his desk, immersed in a virtual fantasy world. With his vodka at his side, Pyotr directs his avatar, masterfully maneuvering his way through the online kingdom, killing filthy every Chechen he comes upon.

I held her smooth, willowy body down as she screamed and struggled to abscond.
My flaccid six inch, average sized penis had grew stiff
and bellowed a snickering queef from my abhorrent
mushroom tip.

>>4057965
Please post an example of 'Slavic garb'.

>>4057928
Ivan lives for danger.

In the beginning there was nothing; and now...

>>4057965
I love it how it changed from past to present tense.

Once upon a time there was a dark and stormy knight.
"He's right behind me isn't he" he said.
All hell broke loose, as it turned out he was the villain from the start and they were dead the entire time.

>>4059247
Fucking masterpiece.

>Trollface
le maymay cringe
>womyn
retardo casual waifu faggot
>Deus Ex
>Having wallpapers at all

Being a slav is disability by itself, he's taking it too far.

>>4056389

go read confederancy of dunces

Head bowed and scanning the back of my hands, I felt a discerning gaze from across the table scorch my skin. A question bounced around my head.
“Why are you here?” asked the doctor.

I have thousands of ideas in my mind, I know what they are and what they make me feel, yet I am unable to write them down for others to enjoy.

He looked at the lamps smoke and instinctively twirled his beard in his finger. What bothered him was the loneliness of the mine and the knowing that it was his own fault, “but I have to eat” he tried to convince the three half eaten bodies strayed about him.

We look for opinions and attention desperately, not because we want to but because we need to. Whether you acknowledge it or not, whether you like it or not, you're doing it. It's understandable; so write as much as you can, as it'll help. You won't regret it.

>>4059453
You're the same as everyone else, then. The difference between the average guy and a fiction writer is that one of them dreams about the stories he could write if he had the talent while the other actually puts the words down even if they're crappy and then edit the manuscript to oblivion, again and again.

You just told me your story with that post. Can you do it again? What can you do better this time?

>>4059319
How can you tell he's a slav?

>>4059465
I thought this was shitty prose -- turns out it's just shitty advice

>>4059476
I can tell you all about it. You may shoot down my ideas, call me a maniac, insult me, but at least you'd have listened. I can tell you about the little people residing under the leaves of trifolium, dancing day after day in enjoyment and working when it rains. I can tell you about the salaryman and his adorable daughter whom he raises by himself and cares deeply for; buying her a new teddy bear every week for her collection. I can tell you a tale of two friends who lived their life as if they were brothers. I could tell you many more, but sadly the time is running and I must go.
Remember, though, your words have not been in vain; they've helped a stranger you don't know, more than you know.

>>4059319
Personally, I think he's pretty cool. Yeah his furnishings are abhorrent. But his stance is fucking badass. He's an innovator, he's new wave, he's a fucking artiste.

And but so the banalities of the indurate man's institute of the higher learning considers the syntax of the political ideology behind the pourparlers of the local drug recovery house. This is the Truth. The Truth can easily be easily seen as an infusion of NyQuil [56] through the right cerebral vortex, generally viewed as the creative spark in most aspiring lit's cranium.

[56]. Vicks NyQuil is a brand of over the counter medication manufactured by Procter & Gamble intended for the relief of various symptoms of the common cold. All medications within the NyQuil imprint contain sedating antihistamines, hypnotics, or alcohol, and are intended to be taken before sleep. Its daytime counterpart is antihistamine free DayQuil, formulated to avoid drowsiness. NyQuil is also used as sleep aid

>>4059508
>>4059476

Get a room.

"He was 45 years old, but it didn't matter, because he was dead. The dead re-incarnated doomed to rome the earth because of his sins of his 45 year old life. He was destined to rome the Earth forever, at least until the world died, but maybe some more after that."

That's the opening paragraph from my story I've been working on for the past few years, it goes beyond zombie stuff later and kind of tackles the real questions that go along with it

>>4056626
yes

>>4059526
Sounds innovative. Finish it now before the teenagers grow up and are tired of zombies. Hurry!

>>4059514
>dfw

>>4059526
>rome

otherwise it was ok

> 50 words exactly

I live in a universe where a pen used to duel ones' skeletons is
considered a blessing. If I wasn't busy fighting my inner demons I'd
stab you, I'd make you the gifted one, I'd even dial the fucking
number for you.

- 911, emergency how may I help you?

>>4059611
noticed some punctuation positioned themselves in error.. well, I guess you get the point (no pun).

When I went back there after the previous events had elapsed, it was if the circumstances of my arrival had changed the location itself.

And I just kept cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and cumming and camed and farted

>>4056974
Am I the only one that got a Titan A.E. vibe from this?

WouldReadShortStory/10

I apologise never written before but here we go.

He had become conscious and there was nothing. It was a void, placed in this white room he felt nothing. He knew however these walls protect him. He had nothing to fear. He never dare challenge them. They were his salvation.

Sputtering whizzbangs shot the fractious supe of craven wahalians from their hideyhole out to the streets beyond, windows shattering in the wincing dawn. Withers leapt down the nubile passageway but was abstracted ad absurdum by the blues' riddling and danced to the big gun music until he fell, dead, juiced.

>>4059247
Haha oh god 10/10

>>4055578
It was so cold that our feet felt like ice-boxes, our fingers were desiccated twigs. Nights were harsh here, full of swirling feathers of snow, but we stood on the verandah, and finished smoking. She opened the door and told us to come to bed. Her arms were like ovens.

>>4055578
Can we post a rule thingy?

>Post your short story
>Critique other three.

Shining, Shining fight hold fire from the mouth, but never let it out. Release slowly, breathe sharply inside, outside roundabout. Jesus Christ is the biggest country in Europe beholden to the ridden plush. Socrates inside a broken blue; it's not rape if she votes Republican.

>>4059975
> it's not rape if she votes Republican.

wut

My master. Bless my master and my lord! It gives me life, it sustains me, keeps me on my feet, keeps me safe. Without my lord I am nothing... the world is nothing. For without our lord the world is desolate, savage and stricken with death. The lord is truly the world's savior. It can be so difficult to keep the lord with us, so we work and we work day and night to exhaustion to see, to touch, to revel with our lord. But why in times of harshness does the lord escape us so? We thought we had the lord but ever so suddenly we're left alone to struggle.

Why the pain? he thought (pain in this care being an esoteric matter), she surely wasn't worth his time. Yet, beneath the heels, the eyelashes, the little black dress, was she really all that different from the girl he had loved since childhood? And could that ever come back, her withered form sprung forth again? Selfish thoughts, he thought. Selfish for wanting what's best for her.

>>4060057
I'll call it The False God
I mean I just wrote it on the spot but do you guys think it would make a good poem if I bothered putting work into it?

>>4060075
if that didn't sound like such a narcissistic /r9k/er i would call that good

He wondered about the architecture of thought. He wondered at the body of the mind, in that moment that his own lips betrayed the whorled machinations inside his branching, blistered trunk. Listening, they portraited a man falling from his own balcony, stinking of vomit and waste. They wondered how he could've jumped the railing.

As he pressed through the doors to his first class of college, that same hand reached for his diploma four years later. Before he knew it his wife was sliding a golden wedding band onto the hand he'd sign his name on the divorce papers with. His first breath exhaled nearly 87 years later.

>>4059797
it's so whimsical, and it bounces along really well
>>4060057
very classical, not particularly outstanding but not bad
>>4060164
excellent concept, lackluster execution

Yet another day passed by that I couldn't remember a week from then. A dull haze pulled over my will to act. Colors blurred and so did words. The air in my lungs was stagnant and room temperature. A dull throbbing in my head ached with the sound of a ticking clock and a sitcom's overplayed laughter.

I gazed at my cat, the picture of innocent contentment, and felt endeared yet removed. Because I knew she would die fairly soon. I had thought about it before. Cats don't live to be so very old, and we had both aged much since her kitten days. Sick she was not, yet every look was bittersweet because I was coming to terms with her death even as she sat breathing. My father, my dear mom, sweet and nurturing and full of love: it occurred to me that they would die in my lifetime. And god knows who else- why did the thought
of their deaths upset me so? Why, as my parents laughed and lived in the kitchen, did I already feel their ghosts behind me breathing down my neck?

This thread is masturbatory and gay, like a gay man masturbating. He's fat and hairy, and in his full-length mirror he watches sweat run down his arms and chest. It tapers clumps of hair into soggy stalactites, dripping onto the carpet. He thinks of his dad, and cums. Fuck you.

People sure do love proving how smart they are when it doesn't require much work.

>>4060244
i never get how people can be gay and not go to the gym and work on their abs, i mean i understand some people dig "bears" or whatever but u ever see this flaming dudes with a tight as t-shirt with a lil pot belly poking out, how do they live with themselfs

>>4060244
10/10

>>4060244
11/10

In order to impress his online friends, he knew he had to delve deep into his mind to produce provocative and tantalizing words to finally prove to himself and others that he was no talentless hack. Then the dreadful realization that the day would never come when he could do so.

This was the struggle of a spider writer.

>>4060249
Because everyone's different, Anon.

>>4060255
hurt feewings

>>4060255
lol

Sometimes I look up and realize how alone I am

>>4060334
Sadfeel/10

I googled "how to stop giving a shit" last night and ended up looking through a bunch of self help books on amazon. I didn't buy any.

In that single moment he realized a truth- one that he had been ignoring. It was a gloriously wretched truth that confirmed all his insecurities. His identity began to fade into the darkness that was ambiguity. It was at this moment that he knew he was utterly unremarkable and mundane.

>>4060363

bravo

here's mine
She never wanted to go further than the corner of my eye. "When I'm outta your sight, you're outta my mind!" She left last night and didn't need to say goodbye.

>>4060334
this is actually pretty funny, in a bitter way. concise too. I like it.

>>4059945
for some reason I get the picture of rebels hiding out in a decaying villa in a snowy forest. I like this though, it's interesting, but I think there's too much figurative language in it, considering the length.

>>4059459
COME ON BABY LET'S DO THE TWIST. I do like this one, mainly because you can read it as him either talking to the dead bodies in a haze of guilt and madness, or talking to still-living but horribly dying companions.

>>4060207
c-come on guys give me some advice

They, unlike the Europeans, spoke openly in the presence of Others. Where she expected to be met with silence, she was instead greeted with a cacophony of unintelligible noise from the harsh tongues of dark, painted faces. Faces not painted to accentuate beauty, but rather to mask the decay of a once proud society. They were only fooling themselves.

>>4060235
feels/10
I get hit with similar thoughts from time to time. When it happens it's like I'm trying to psych myself up to get punched in the face, yet I have no idea where the fist is coming from or when. Very relatable, good job, anon.

>>4056304
Well executed and refined. I'd be interested in reading more of this if you got any.

>>4056473
No idea why I like this, but I do. It's matter-of-factness, perhaps.

>>4060207
I had to reread the first line a few times before what you were trying to convey clicked in my head. It would read easier, for me, at least, if it was written:
>Yet another day passed by that I wouldn't remember a week from now.

Shit, there’s- one breath? I struggle shaping thoughts; to give witness to the birth of the universe and the long slow swirling of dust into time. I’ve broken my promise. An eon for love to speak its own name; now none to hear in the dark. Sorry. Sandcastles, washed away.

>>4055604
>36 thousand kings
mah nigga

>>4056974
Longer version, I will develp this concept. I like it.

Everyone wanted to go to space. At least they did before the exodus. The stars, distant planets and Earth’s glowing circumference used to be mesmerizing. Now, looking out Accordion’s windows was no more enticing than a boring screensaver. ”Fuck zero gravity” muttered Ivan, while the peas floated away from his plate. He discarded the rest of his meal in a negative pressure bag. After locking his helmet in place he walked to the airlock. Panel number five needed repairs again.

>>4060939
Shorter version was better bro.

We hanged him. so hadcor

Excited Lisa lifted up her short skirt showing her shimmering cunt the ecstasy of a moment and a smile, thinking about John ripping his shirt unraveling full god to see what true love was to be. John thought until Steve; he was completely hard hopeless and fighting her out

"All moments in time are just that" he whispered.
Each singular moment adds together and builds the day. Sunrise. Sunset. The oscillating fan blew his lip whiskers, like a breeze blowing on an unkempt lawn. He wrinkled his nose.

The hairs on my neck erect themselves to attention once that bell rings; they know what that mellifluous chime signifies–tasty customers. Whether for the epochal sensation that is our banana sundae tacos or the electric 1940's ambiance, the lemmings keep flocking to my cliff-shapen commissary unbeknownst to the addiction they continue to cultivate. I grin over the help of my chemist step-brother and greet the fresh bait strolling in. Slapped with shock, I announce, "Hello Mr. President, welcome to McDonalds."

>>4061342
This is the first fictional thing I've ever wrote. Can you tell?

The struggles of life seem so jocular and animated. They prod, poke, and pinch with all or no intent. They seem to take control of the destructive instruments in my life: step-dad, David, my 5th grade teacher. They seem to muddle the line of what's real and what's imagined, for the greatest depths of suffering can be found in what has been illustrated.

Hell has no vacancy for those accustomed to its ways; for those, only life awaits.

You will hurtle through the plate glass window of relationship without a scratch. Your friends will be many and your lovers plentiful. The friendly pats on your back and desperate, smacking thrusts will echo within you. Zeno's love you'll contemplate, from the vista of a gusty window ledge.

Existence feels oh so asymptotic. From birth the rise to adulthood is fast and sharp, from adulthood the decline to death houses an eternity of perception. Sixty is a few numbers off from infinity, yes. However, at the black hole of death, I can never drift past that horizon, but you can die.

Waiting is the name of the game. "Waiting" is my favorite cereal.

Baby blue oh how he tried to keep away. Your worksafe crevasse still haunts the cherub panties of the anime figures on the display and the star spangled banner complexioned dewish juices of the cheeseburger cheetos. In naughty defiance he turns back his head, oh bless the pressing onslaught of our Polish prostitute overlords. All those hands on the desk are just a twitter for all sorts of exciting news!

>>4061400

life?

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!" screamed Dirk Dashwood as his hang glider spiraled towards the nudist colony below.

>>4061556
15/10 would read.

I kept the underwear and the cum soaked sheets from that night, wanting only to remember the fireworks at the end.
It had been years since I watched her crash the week before our wedding.
I suppose now was finally a good time to wash the sheets and the memories they contained.

I always expected Venice to be bigger. Didn't we all learn that it’s a floating city? Sure, it’s floating, and I guess it’s also a city-but what kind of city is situated on a raft the size of a farm? Maybe I'm missing something, I thought as I rode the lone train track in.

>>4055578
I was born in the desert, comin' on it from new orleans. Came upon a tornado, sunlight in the sky. I went around all day with the moon sticking in my eye.

"You know how many times the average man dies in his lifetime?"

Gun pressed hard against my head - hurts like fuck, embarassingly painful. About to die and I'm still wincing at the pistol's barrel digging into my head like a shovel.

"Hit me with the facts then, mother," I say. I try to sound tough but my voice breaks. Fuck.

"More than once," he says, as though he's narrating the discovery channel. "Medically speaking, if you account for people who technically die, it's more than once."

"Fucking spectacular."

"Let's bring the average closer to the truth."

She pulls the trigger. Shame I loaded it with potato peelings earlier you psychotic bitch.

Now is my chance.

THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST THE BEST

>>4061752
>mother
>he

I-It was deliberate I swear.

Hey Annalee, remember when you were a kid and we ran through the corn fields every day? Your stepfather would yell at us to come back inside for supper, we'd race under the sunset. We were happy. They took him away, but it wasn't him who touched you. I'd know.

They told me to write about what I know, so I did.

I wrote about being a middle class white kid in a Milwaukee suburb who works at Taco Bell and goes to school at Eastern High, at least did before I dropped out. I still work at Taco Bell, though. Why wouldn't I? A boy's gotta pay for college.

>>4061755
He transcends the male/female dichotomy

>>4061774
Truly, I must check my privilege. My character identifies as a mother AND a cis white heteronormative man.

Who am I to question that?

Check your non-fictional-being-who-actually-exists-privilege.

Sitting down crestfallenly in front of his 1939 Smith Corona typewriter, he lit his first cigarette of the day. A roe deer was roaming around outside the window, and his eyes followed. “50 words eh?” he muttered with a sigh while letting the cigarette smoke roll down over his lips.

Today, you are looking out of your window. Earlier you woke, suddenly, at dawn, and no matter how you tossed and turned, all that grew inside of you was a dull ache in your back. Occasionally, you touch your hand to the cool glass, wishing that it could turn opaque and insubstantial.

>>4061292
perfect for a B-rate erotica novel

>>4061360
Awesome

>>4061361
yeah

>>4061758
ease on the cheese

>>4061768
sounds honest

>>4060363
should say "anonymity" as opposed to "ambiguity"
and dont samefag >>4060367

>>4060618
not bad

>>4061784

seems like smoke wouldn't roll over his lips if he's speaking and sighing

Ask any who knew him,
If he was happy,
with a smile and a small grin,
they will answer directly,

"There were few," they would emote
as happy and glad
he would laugh and he'd float
and never seem sad

He'd watch and he'd listen
to others enough
He never stated an opinion
He would never interrupt

He was always ready
for a laugh or a joke
that lightened issues heavy
It would almost seem rote

It's odd and unexpected
they will mutter and murmur
that he was lonely and restless
I wish I knew sooner.

>>4055578
There once was a nigger named Nigel. He was a funny sort, black as the night, with a sordid little smile only a mother could love. One rainy day he was out walking with his dog Blackie. Suddenly, Blackie broke free from her leash, and ran down a dark dank alley adjacent to the local KFC. Nigel gave chase, but what he found down that alley wasn't to his tastes. He found 3 white youths waiting for him there. They had tricked both Nigel and Blackie. Nigel was subsequently lynched.

It was years since the heavy oak door had been opened, and it only did so reluctantly now. The library was musty and forsaken, dusty motes flittered too and fro between the pale ribbons of light cascading from the solitary window. Forgotten knowledge lingered on the air, cloying and bittersweet.

And it is Him who gave me life.
An umbilical cord of cosmic flesh and stardust,
The bleached bones and caked blood of fallen heros,
The galactic demons, giants and angels before me
That compose the silken string from His finger to my mortal vessel
As He breathes the breath of consciousness into my ashen, chapped lips
Each cell in my mind reverberates with electricity where thoughts and inclinations explode into a sinful gasp
I am all knowing, an extension of His creation, one in Being.

>>4055578
Once upon a time, a man pulled out a gun and pointed the barrel at his wife. The black sheen of the metal blinded her, refracted from the paned-glass window as the sun rose above the arid desert sand. Light everywhere. White, pure light ate through the thickness, the heat of the room, illuminated by the freshly painted laminate of maple hardwood, a mirror under their feet. And then he pulled the trigger.

>>4060939
The first version was poetic, later version was more modern prose. It almost has the flavor of the Shakespeare books with the modern translation on the side.

>>4056343
>"For the fish live such virtuous lives," thought the King, "that all of my wisdom is rain atop an ancient ocean."
Anon, did you come up with that? I love it.

I didn't count them. Just stop after 50 words or something.

"Life became significantly less spiritual in nature when I realized that, for me, growing up was less about becoming smarter and more about realizing how stupid I was. It wasn't that I had become embittered by a god who would allow such sorrow to seep through the doors of my mind, or even that I found the belief of such a god juvenile or unhealthy. It was a simple matter of speed. My mind was moving too fast for the church to keep up, and I left it in the dust along with the forgotten memories of a time when I had cared enough to stop and pray."

Wow

>>4063206
The first steps are recognizing. The second is taking action through moderation.the third and fourth are reap eating the first and second.

One time I had a conversation with a fetus. Towering over a pool of blood
I stared down at the mutilated corpse. "Why?", I heard it squeel out of agony.
I bent down and held it raised to my face with arms extended.

I was once like this pitiful thing, I thought. That frightened me, it scared me more than anything.
The realization that I was nothing sacred, just a bunch of guts.

I wanted very much to be something more, but I wasn't. I just wasn't and I never will be. Rage destroys, self rage
consumes.

Something had to be done, I couldn't allow it to torment me anymore. I let it fall out of my hands to wither on
the ground.

The gun is good. The penis is evil. The penis shoots seeds, and makes new life to poison the Earth with a plague of men, as once it was, but the gun shoots death, and purifies the Earth of the filth of brutals. Go forth ... and kill!

A gravedigging relief churned. No more existentialism, why no blueberry-chocolate poptart line, boredom, half-daydreaming of apocalypses; finally, someone took initiative.
-Out.
- But you‘re going to shoot me…?
-Isn’t your grave.
- Sorry, but when a maniac...
-The underlying principle is digging graves is for those not holding the gun.

My mother has always projected my father's failings onto me. She's a filthy whore, and is primary reason for all my failings in life. Words cannot express how much I hate her.

The paramedic pulls a baggie out of his pocket and holds it at an arms length, flicking it with his finger. He eyes it diligently it as it flaps.

He pours the ketamine liberally onto the back of his assistants clipboard and then hands the victim a note.

Lick the mirrors, he said. The mirrormaze multiplied her and she licked her glassy selves. The glass was smooth and cold. So there they stood, all her, while the devil fiddled smilingly in the rafters above for her and the sheets of glass filled with pretend-souls.

Beauty, creaking like a warped deck under the salt sheen of dried sweat and muscle ache, shifted and surfaced through the maelstrom-black mystic warmth of her hair. She dreamt of fast held knots, sea-foam like eyes flitting beneath sleep battened lids, the lies I’d told her of able seamanship.

Since someone "reviewed" my prose, I will give back to the community.

>>4063331
very insightful; i like it
>>4063350
2pretentious4me
>>4063401
nice diary entry
>>4063420
solid but uninteresting
>>4063459
decent
>>4063515
so fucking boring i couldn't even finish it

Well that's quite a fucking compliment ain't it?
Thanks brah

>>4062850
Last post was ment to reply to that

Just in case anyone cares, I made this >>4056974 into a short story.

You can read it here. >>4065254

It has turned out fortunate for me today that destiny appointed Braunau-on-the-Inn to be my birthplace. For that little town is situated just on the frontier between those two States the reunion of which seems, at least to us of the younger generation, a task to which we should devote our lives and in the pursuit of which every possible means should be employed.

thought something would happen when i got back home, been looking forward to returning for close to a week now. except it's not really my home, and nothing will actually happen.

She eye fucked me like she meant it the whole time; it was uncanny staring into understanding while thrusting away and knowing the disconnect of nightclub one night stands tradition observes. I hated her a little for it, and thrust harder, but she just gazed more love into my soul.

"Today... We begin the trek.", said Ben.
Henry looked up the slopes.
"Didn't the last group attempting this climb die?"
"Yeah, and the group before them... Won't it be great when we reach the summit!", said Ben in his always upbeat tone.
Henry wasn't so sure they would make it...
After about 4 hours of climbing, they reached the location of the last groups death.
"Did you hear that?", said Henry.
"Yeah... This ice must be pretty unstable..."
A sudden "CRACK" jolts the two awake.
"Henry... we should get off this-"
A large "CRACK" followed by screams.
Then only silence...
>"I'm sorry I put you up to this..."
>"...Ben..."

>42

Cardinal speckled poplars whisper choruses of autumn in circadian melody. The wind does all but abate, rustling the fallen offspring of the forrest's arboreal overseers into an abyss of cyclical degradation. Only from death can life emerge; even the cosmos envy eternity.

>>4065641

>samefag

This is stellar.

>>4065641

Mend the bridge between the first and second sentence, otherwise good.

>>4065641

Cardinal speckled poplars whisper choruses of autumn in gentle dance as they unknowingly prepare for nature's apathetic ways. The wind does all but abate, rustling the fallen offspring of the forrest's arboreal overseers into an abyss of cyclical degradation. Only from death can life emerge; even the cosmos envy eternity.

>>4065641
I like

Quincunx; me and the four walls; I need nothing more, trailing the ink run wick in and out of my skin. The pulsing of days left us five alone in stoic unity. Day 3,276 arrives with hissing resonant fluorescence; laying flat on my back, I realise the walls numbered six.

>>4065660
Think you can cram some more adjectives in there? I think a few of your nouns were entirely without them.

Also more semi-colons. One isn't enough. Also I like how you spelled "forrest," that's pretty edgy.

All that ever motivated me was contempt for the other fighter and the fear of losing. I never felt anything fraternal or honorable or sportsmanlike. I hated them for wanting to humiliate me, to claim me, I hated them to outpace their own hate they summoned against me.

Song sweetened honey curled dripping from my turning finger on the jar’s rim. She beamed five year old festivities across the table, equally and indiscriminately to the toast, season and tiles. The half-bar hum of lost worlds, I remember that July morning through her, bees listening for her thank you.

>>4065711
it's not the 1800s anymore you can put a message in your writing instead of just wanking over your big words.

So there I was, resting upon the grimy blue seats, and still smelling of the underground caverns from whence I had travelled through. The locomotive had been rollicking and rolling through the underbelly of the city, slowly carrying me closer to where I ought to be, and where I want not to be. The bugger next to me let out a loud sneeze, followed by a rude and comforting silence, and the beggar across from me held out an empty coffee cup and waved it around, only to receive the same comfortable ignorance from the patrons of this racketing bullet. 21st century advertisements barking out 21st century progressive ideas hung from the walls, and I harkened to the advertisement’s insistent barking. “Don’t become a statistic! If you drop something, leave it! 90% of teenage mothers raise their child without a father! Don’t let YOURSELF be raised by a single mother. If you reside within the womb of an unwed teenage girl, ABORT YOURSELF. Stand clear of the closing doors please. Beep boop.”

So where was I? Ah, yes! Aboard the train, on my way to where I ought to be, and where I ought to want to be, but honestly where I not ought wanted to be. And where was it I ought to be? The established place of learning and regurgitation, where for a humble yet just price, knowledge is bestowed upon the meek, and dreamers are molded into men. But then what? Oh, of course! The doors closed, but not before two un-chipper un-dapper un-dandy beings entered my cart. The first was a lady being, that being the being of a lady, and not that of a man or an elephant or, what she had truly resembled, a watermelon. The lady was plump, short as a stump, and wore a filthy white shirt that barely concealed the rolls of flubber and blubber that hung from her body. By god, was all that part of her? Oh cruel lord, for what hath this poor beast done to deserve such an unsightly body? And oh kind and merciful lord, what has a daft fellow such as me self done to deserve the humble and average body that I occupy? Truly, the Old Ones work in dark and mysterious ways! The other fellow was a man fellow, taller and more rectangular than his female acquaintance. This man wore an honest and stern face, tanned and full of deep wrinkles. They were both quite young, and both seemed to hail from some sort of Latin country, possibly Mexico or Ecuador, or some other less fortunate country. And just as so, both of them looked poorer than the little scallywhopper down by 48th, and were probably begging for money to return home, possibly unaware that deportations were free.

>>4065724
>mfw any of that counts as "big words"
>mfw i have no face
capcha: ittwith celebrated

>>4065732
They're not big words, just annoying ones.

>>4065732
cool :)

>>4065711
I remember when I used to think every noun needed an adjective.

>>4065747
are you a different anon, or just schizophrenic?

I am in an internet cafe and I am waiting and I have been waiting far too long and I am beginning to get nervous. I should leave but instead I keep buying an endless succession of coffees and waiting longer and retreating deeper into this caffeine-fueled trance of jittery paranoia.

I fucking hate Jeff.
Jeff ruined my life.
Jeff borrowed my super expensive BMX bike and fucked up the handlebars.
Fuck.

The fact of the matter is that I'm a pussy man. Ever since I was fired out of my mother's big beautiful vulva I've had nothing short of a stomach-ache for the hairy oysters of the fairer sex. I dream pussies. I fantasize pussies. I spend my time at work drawing pussies (getting away with it only because I'm a gynaecologist) and at night I get home, draw a warm bath, pour a glass of cognac, and dive right into my fleshlight. Such is the life of an ugly midget.

-FIN

>>4065751
Different anon. Your passage made me want to punch a fedora. Sorry.

>>4065757

I have no idea where I am but the vague smell of pancakes is in the air and there is an obese woman standing in front of me who kind of looks like that fat redneck woman from The Cleveland Show. Something tells me something delicious is about to happen.

>>4065759
Not sure how you're using fedora here, but I'm willing to take criticism if you're willing to clarify it.

I never realized how nice the atmosphere in a meat packing plant was until I took the job up in Maine. I was only an executive janitor, but on my lunch hour I would head down to the killing floor and pretend I was a cow, like I had some purpose.

>>4065767
Your prose is very purple. It's about as purple as it was a dark and story night actually.

On the outside I'm a barber, but on the inside I'm an artist. My medium is hair, but not when it's on people's heads. I make thick ropes from my customers hair and spell out four letter words with them on the walls of my studio apartment.

>>4065773
that's the point of his/her piece thoguh

>>4065773
I was going for something of an elegy so purple or stark were the likely contenders. How about this:
>All I have is the memory of her at five years old, eating toast.

Ever since I was a kid I wanted to be a carpenter, but I never had the chops. If I had any fingers left, I'd try for it again.

>>4065776
Cut the middle sentence and 10/10

>>4065759
Fine, I'll break it down.

1) Far too many adjectives. It's annoyingly wordy.

2) The language is stupid. "She beamed five year old festivities across the table." It's a cringing way of describing a child and superficial as well. You describe how she looked, not what she was or how she felt.

3) It makes no sense. "The half-bar hum of lost worlds" and "bees listening for her thank you" don't speak, they mutter to the author. The bees are happy you stole their honey? It's a half-bar because it's part restaurant, or it's a half-bar because it's a small one?

Use simpler language and use it precisely.

>>4065783
I think that's a lot more appealing and pretty humorous.

>>4065779
Yeah, it's just not a very likeable style.

>>4065793
Some people romanticize the idea of living on a desert island. I romanticize the idea not living on a desert island. Different strokes, I guess.

>>4065793
2) it's a subtle way of telling you the date in July and why the child is excited. too subtle obviously since you didn't pick up on it.

3) it's about fading memories- half-bar refers to humming half a bar of musical notation. the bees are thanked because it deals with the criticism of not describing the child's internal values you raise in two.

but since you identified more with the bees than the child, i can see i didn't give enough for the reader to identify with the humans at play.

thanks for the break down

As a chiropractor, it's important for me to solve the psychological problems along with the physical. I tackle this by hiring a mariachi band to play encouraging music for all of my customers to pep them up while I run my hands over all of their bones.

>>4065808
...

Fair enough, but that isn't conveyed at all in the piece. What I read was that you're opening a jar of honey at a bar, a five-year-old family member is bouncing off the walls hyper and you're vicariously enjoying the event through her. And it's July.

Okay. But the words used are pretentious, you only apply a superficial description of the child (on one hand you say you're remembering the event through her yet your only description involving the person never explores any deeper than how she appeared to you), and the stuff about the bees was dumb.

>>4065821
Like others have said, that was the point. He acknowledged your criticisms though and probably realizes that getting that purple isn't something he would do if he were writing a real story.

>>4065812
>2) it's a subtle way of telling you the date in July and why the child is excited. too subtle obviously since you didn't pick up on it.
Tell me then. What, July 4th? I'm not American. What's so special about July?

>3) it's about fading memories- half-bar refers to humming half a bar of musical notation. the bees are thanked because it deals with the criticism of not describing the child's internal values you raise in two.
How would a reader know you're referring to a musical bar? I say this as someone who's played guitar and clarinet for 15 years. And no, the bees are not thanked, re-read what you wrote: "the bees listening for her thank you." Whose thank you? The child's? The female bees'?

>>4065823
You're replying to the wrong person, I never said anything about purple.

I'm an ordinary plumber, but I like to give my customers something extra when they use my services. I leave little fish inside their pipes to give them some company when they're home alone and need someone to talk to.

>>4065830
I like it, but fish are boring. Consider alligators or water moccasins instead. And replace "talk to" with "struggle for dear life against."

>>4065836
>Yeah, and put in some tits. And explosions. Tits and explosions and have the alligators be mutants with lazers and telepathy.

Your brain has been destroyed.

>>4065825
>How would a reader know you're referring to a musical bar?
> And no, the bees are not thanked, re-read what you wrote: "the bees listening for her thank you." Whose thank you? The child's? The female bees'?
I'm beginning to wonder if you've ever met a five year old.

I live in a large citrus grove. I'm not supposed to be here, but I still feel responsible for the place. I keep it in order and make sure everything is running smoothly. It's not much but it's mine.

>>4065830
I like it, but I need to know how many fish.

I have a scale replica of the universe in my garage. When I get home from work at the garage, I crack open a miller lite and gaze into the eternal vortex until the wife calls me for dinner. Sometimes I think about trying to fix the old girl up a bit, but she's beautiful enough as she is.

>>4065840
Yes, and I'm starting to think this train-wreck of a piece was written by one.

>shitty overuse of adjectives
>terrible word selection
>superficial character exploration
>boring subject matter

It's basically an author muttering to himself about something that isn't worth parsing.

>>4065841
I install floors out west, but only outside. I started out in Wyoming covering the whole of Carbon County with a linoleum finish modeled on Marilyn Monroe's apartment. These days, I mostly do carpeting around lakes, but I'm open to other things too.

>>4065854
This is the level of emotional investment I look for in all my readers. 50 words and such zeal that I'm not even sure you know you're repeating yourself.

>>4059416
My tenses are loose, and I was unhappy about it. I'm going to be very upset before I started using them correctly like I use to.

>>4065867
Gregor lived in a plain concrete building all of his life. Frequently he would imagine a beautiful transformation in which the building turned into a wheeled vehicle, or a rocket, or anything interesting, but it never happened.

I sat down at a table to do a drawing the other day but I couldn't draw anything so I started writing and I couldn't stop and it started pouring out of me and I had run out of paper and I started writing on myself and eventually I had a novel on my hands and also on my legs and torso and arms but I don't know how to get it off and I dont' know how I can transfer this to some more manageable form to give to that nice literary agent who I keep sending pictures of my word-encrusted body to

>>4065891
Frank never understood the point of zombies. They were just there. Everyone else seemed to be making a big deal about them, but Frank didn't see what the fuss was all about. All Frank wanted to do was keep gardening and keep writing this cookbook that he'd been working on for the past couple years, which he'd been meaning to complete but which kept spiralling off in totally unexpected directions and filling with recipes he'd never even heard of.

>>4065871
When your writing is so annoyingly bad that people are exerting themselves to tell you as much it's time to seriously reconsider making your pastime public.

I've been living in Ikea for the past eight years because I can't find my way out and it's very nice. There is a nice community of people here who live in the Ikea in all the fake houses, and there are hierarchies based on the floor numbers but that's not worth getting into. The only thing that really matters is that I'm home and that I've never been home besides when I'm living in a fake room set up to impress some people looking to furnish a real room.

>>4065896
why are you still talking about that piece there are other pieces

I live in a pretty big house, but I don't think it's mine. I can't say for sure though because I don't know if anybody lives here with me or if I'm on my own. Like I said it's pretty big and I have never seen anyone else wandering it's myriad corridors and labyrinthine bathroom setups. But I can't discount the possibility. I do know there's a dog here. I have heard the dog bark every once in a while from somewhere above me, but the house is pretty big and I can't say for sure where the barks are coming from. It would be nice to meet the dog or my neighbors because it gets lonely living in a pretty big house.

Sheds everywhere. Garden sheds, children's huts, corrugated and wooden, functional and follies, all bunched together. Miles of them. Maybe this was the epicentre, from which all sheds were born. Maybe it was just a place that sold garden furniture.

I was reading a newspaper the other day, and I saw a story that was interesting to me, but at the same time I slipped on a banana peel and fell into a manhole and found myself lost in the sewers of new york among all the alligators and other lost souls. I haven't gotten out yet but I am getting quite close to finding an exit I believe because sometimes you can see lights above you and sometimes you can't and these days I can see more lights above me than not. I miss my wife and job and family, but I must say I have had a good opportunity to clear my head and work out some good melodies I can finally start recording, and even gotten some lyrics down in my head. I guess this has been an alright experience so far.

>>4065914
I liked this a lot.

Ever since I moved into the ocean, life has been nothing but trouble. For one thing, I can't breathe underwater which is quite a drag as I have to wear a scuba suit to get inside my ocean house which as you can imagine is quite an inconvenience, although I suppose it could be worse.

>>4065898
I like it. It has a well-meaning cynicism and it reads smoothly.
I want to hear more.

I've forgotten the words for things, and I have no one to ask. I don't want made up names, so all these wordless things stack up around me each night before sleep. Even if there was someone left out there, I wouldn’t know their name to ask either.

>>4065920
>>4065916
>>4065907
>>4065898
>>4065894
>>4065891
these are all my attempts at automatic writing

I'm what you might call a medical enthusiast, though the term amateur gynecologist would be more accurate.
I have converted my garage into an examining room. The examination table and stirrups are second-hand and lightly stained but the ankle braces still work nicely. Last week I put up some drywall.

Nicolas Suede had not felt this good about himself since the infamous summer of 2005, when the Eternal Nothingness (his words) engulfed his auspicious job prospects and left him as a man with financial troubles and a slightly-below-average penis. Sitting in the stuffy darkness of his home office, he browsed the Missed Connections section of his local Craigslist board, periodically murmuring to himself, "at least you're not one of them." For now, that would be good enough.

>>4065933
>>4065934
liking both of these

>>4065934
pynchon pls go
just joking, I enjoyed this although you broke the 50 word limit you ass

I stood outside her door, joking that I'd be late like I always was. I heard two meals sliding from plates into the garbage disposal through the door and phone. She ground out the punchline we weren't together any more into just one ear; she had the best phone voice.

Forgive my >50 words, this just seemed to be an OK thread for posting short snippets.

The first crime of passion is always the most difficult to commit.
At least, that's what Herbert told himself as he sat in the police station, explaining to one Officer Ashbury why he had decided to write "eat a cunt" on the side panel of one Mr. Matador's Bentley.
Contrary to the fabricated story Herbert spun for Ashbury, it was actually an offhand comment from an Ashley Matador disparaging her father that led to Herbert's transgression.
He had decided that the quickest way to her heart would be a metaphorical middle finger to her father in the form of sharpie-to-car.
Two weeks later (following Herbert's short jail stint), Ashley would approach him and ask "excuse me, could you please move?" Worth it.

I was considering suicide the other day.
At this point in my life, it seemed like a thing that could happen and make sense.
I stopped myself, though.
Who would take care of my finches?
Also, there's that cute girl who works at the AM/PM that I'm currently competing with to see who outlives the other.
I haven't told her, but I'm betting on her. I hope she wins, too.

>>4065971
kinda made me sad tbh, wtf

>>4065963
>>4065934
same person?
the naming is making me think so

>>4065971
Captcha: Peenary when

I was considering it the other day. At this point in my life, it seems like a thing that could happen and make sense. But who would take care of my finches?
>ftfy

>>4065983
reads much better, thanks
s/o to you anon

John hated his name. A hero's name is what he felt he deserved. "I should be a David." He said. John never changed his name, and although he felt like a David, he was neither Jewish, nor adulterous. He was just a lifeless spineless nothing named John.

I reversed every typebar to strike the letters upside down against the roller. I took the extra precaution of running a few lines; the roller would copy the words “You're not a writer” verso to any manuscript. My words are the only indents on the ribbon, he’s never noticed.

>>4065988
The best way to improve most fiction is through omission, assuming the writer knows how to construct sentences.

And thanks, but editing is easy.

>>4065755
jeff pls go

The cat died yesterday. I used the snow shovel to move the body and another to dig the grave. It's the only justification I have for owning two shovels.

I figured out that he was the muderer. The bloodringer he called himself. I grabbed my gun and walked into his room but he managed to strangle me. He looked into my eyes. "I'm just a cop without a badge." and that was it for me.