ITT: /lit/ writes prose

[Anonymous No.15458663]

>It was a dark and stormy night...

[OP No.15458771]

>>15458663
I was sitting on the museum floor. The candle I was using for a light flickering off the art, and adding life to the old masters.

[Anonymous No.15458844]

///// BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ \\\\\\
okay jim
Brian: 17:55
Jelousy standing
GOAL!
The museum is backwards
Onions bueno
*SquEAK*

[Anonymous No.15458846]

>>15458771
I observed that stuffed tiger in the background was looking at me in a somewhat seductive manner, with cold dead eyes. It aroused something within me. I started fondling my balls in the dim candlelight.

[Anonymous No.15458860]

>>15458844
>>15458846
You are banned from the thread and these posts are non-canon.

[Anonymous No.15458882]

>>15458860
Ban this

[Anonymous No.15458896]

>>15458860
That’s not very /lit/

[Anonymous No.15458932]

39587 49274 69273 39676 19375 70980 38927 39967 27206 90482

[Normal Man No.15458943]

>>15458771
The candle wax was beginning to be a problem as the night wore on. It had been burning for 3 hours now and despite its size the cheap wax was starting to drip on the floor. Only a few more hours until it could be scraped off the floor.

[Anonymous No.15458953]

>>15458943
OP’s boring

[Anonymous No.15458954]

>>15458882
AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH
>>15458896
Perhaps not.

[Anonymous No.15458962]

>>15458953
I am OP and have not made a post beyond “dark and stormy night” which is perhaps even too generous for you prose novices.

[Anonymous No.15459007]

>>15458943
And what a wonder this very floor has come to be. Shovelfulls of shit have been placed in a manner so precious one should start to regard it as a work of art in and of itself.
My most successful labor by many, many leagues.

[Normal Man No.15459197]

>>15459007
Despite the beauty of the room it held onto that musty stench that only went away as one got acclimated to the room. The paintings were no doubt damaged by this climate, but the artists were too long dead to care at all as their colors muddied with time. Half of the wax was on the floor. It was time to have the meeting.

[Anonymous No.15459305]

>>15459197
Three men, latex clad, entered past the impressionists. A diamond of perspiration on each member, illuminated by the candles they carried. The man in green first placed his candle atop the pile, waiting for it to sink and settle before he drew his hand away. He spoke.

[Anonymous No.15459474]

'twas

[Anonymous No.15459558]

The second, blue, stepped up and placed his candle to the left.

[Anonymous No.15459733]

>>15459305
I started to undress hastily. The candles could be used for more than just light if I allowed them to burn too low. I could see my naked body as a milky moon as I was illuminated by the living candlelight. The men all watched unmoving their masks hiding every shred of identity. New musk was going to be added to the old in the coming hours before dawn.

[Anonymous No.15459752]

>>15459733
The ritual is just beginning. Perhaps, when this is over, I will have an experience worth looking back on. The initiation should be something that will stay in my memory until the end of my life...

[Anonymous No.15459783]

lol i'm drunk again


It was a dark and stormy night as he careened into the parking lot; the moon’s starkness framed by the dark clouds casted a violet ring around it. He was back at it after a night spent sleepless and near-seizing. The store was still open. He needed alcohol to stem a current so dark and powerful that bemoans any semblance of order; the hammer had fallen far too many times upon him, and his bruised rind was something that reminded him of a long chain into his past, haunting the memories like a ghost to assess if he’s still alive or not. He’s not. He hasn’t been alive in a long time.

[Anonymous No.15459784]

>>15459733
Then a small dribble of doody dripped down my leg. Oh no, that burrito I got from that taco truck is coming back to bite me in the ass, literally. Maybe I should say something. No, I thought, best to hide it. I can't handle the embarrassment. If only there were a way to wipe this up before anyone notices. The stuffed tiger! I'll mount it and start riding it like a wild boar in heat, that should wipe the diarrhea out of my asshole, and they'll all think I've been entranced by the atmosphere instead of just wiping off my little mistake.

[Anonymous No.15459793]

My cock is hard. I feel stupid, worthless. Dumb. I don't want to speak anymore. I don't want to hear myself. They're pouring something into my mouth. It's thick like honey, but it feels warm and alive inside my jaw.

[Anonymous No.15459864]

>>15459793
It was the familiar flavor of a little bit of doody

[Anonymous No.15459894]

>>15458663
it was the lightest brease and the pitch black radiated ominously. My eyes got accustomed to the night and my ears picked up whispers through the wind. Stormy or dark, who could it be? Thus the darknes cast a shadow and the ray of light spoke "My storms are hollow, they swirl, yet they dont move". Soon the wind whispered again: "My whisper moves rock and roots, for it is more than you could shout!". I stood there as rain poured into my breathing hole. First came thunder, then came lightning. The rain stopped. We stood there, eyes to eye. Here was emptyness, the soul of the storm. I knew that the walls would start moving. I knew that suffocation was approaching from all sides. But for this moment, my mind was free.

[Anonymous No.15459914]

>>15459864
Remembering the nature of this affair I thought it would perhaps even add to the occasion if I had some fresh, warm, dripping, doody painting my asshole like a deranged Pollock painting.
Savouring the taste of the doody this leather clad bull was pouring down my neck I started to rub my cock, thinking of the stuffed tiger in the corner. Oh, just imagine it; being ridden and mauled by a tiger, the lust and the fervour, the blood and the cum and the shit all mixed together like a potion of divine love and lust. Aphrodite herself would be envious of the ecstasy I was feeling in this moment.

[Anonymous No.15459958]

>>15459783
tfw I'm the only one who took OP's prompt.

[Anonymous No.15460013]

>>15459914
Suddenly, like a tornado tearing up a Mexican children's party, my wife of three months burst through the door and commanded the attention of all eyes (including the stuffed tigers').

"Just WHAT do you think is going on here?" she boomed in her baritone voice. I was afraid the fun might be over if I did not make haste to tear my wife's masculine larynx from her throat, and let it quill... nevermore.

[Anonymous No.15460026]

>>15459958
I thought op wanted collaborative prose, anons adding on to each other
Otherwise the title would be ITT: Anons write prose with this prompt

[Anonymous No.15460049]

>>15459783
>>15459958
Thanks, anon. I appreciate you. You didn’t go lewd either.
>>15460026
You ruined my thread.

[Anonymous No.15460062]

>>15460013
Like John Stuart Mill hearing someone abusing their freedom of speech to incite mob violence outside the house of a wealth creator, I leapt into action. Wasting not a moment, I sprung at my wife, the mother of my fifteen deformed children, spraying her face with the contents of my mouth in the process.
I pulled a copy of Robert McNamara's memoirs from the shelf and brought the fuliginous thousand page tome down onto her skull, fracturing it instantly. She could not be allowed to destroy everything with her ignorance of the ways of men.

[Anonymous No.15460084]

>>15460062
Turning to my esteemed guests, I held the tome in triumph and let out a thunderous roar. Zeus was inside me now, the blood of tiger, and warriors of old flowed through my veins. Nothing, not even the wife who had shackled me in the prison of her foolish feminine sensibilities for years, could stop me now. Tonight was mine.

[Anonymous No.15460140]

>>15460049
Quiet, you. Men are talking.

[Anonymous No.15460144]

>>15460084
But soft, what new consternation through yonder corridor breaks? A crowd of lumbering semi-morons had been trailing my accursed wife, and were now presenting themselves to my horrified visage.
Like Kurtz on his deathbed, I saw the faces of my fifteen deformed children, now freed from their basement incarceration by the pusillanimous womanliness of my wife, and recoiled in disgust. They stared at me like a black gas station attendant, in an eerie unison of action and gait.

[Anonymous No.15460194]

>>15460144
I allowed the fear in only momentarily. I had conquered one obstacle, and the courage it brought was still pumping through me like the rush of a triumphant gladiator in the arena. I grabbed at the nearest child in my reach, threw him to the ground and proceeded to mercilessly inject him with my raging blood-lust fueled hard-on. Pumping and thrusting, blood and shit spewing from his freshly de-flowered asshole. Screams of horror came from his mouth, screams of ecstasy met them from mine. No one dared move a muscle, they knew when a lion was taking his meal that getting in the middle was a suicide mission.

[Anonymous No.15460221]

>>15460144
I turned back to my companions, I saw that they had transformed into spherical, floating anuses. I wondered to myself if this is what Deleuze and Guattari had been writing about all those years ago.
I was distracted from my musings, the new rather rectal character of my former compatriots, and the gawking vileness of my thrice fivefold spawn by the sound of gas leaving the recently deceased body of my wife. I saw that her skull, once full of the ITV 2 listings, was now oozing a strange red liquid (the character of which I was never to discover - I had not paid attention in phrenology class, so was not an expert on these matters). Not wanting to get my Air Jordans dirty with this mysterious liquid, I took another text down from the shelf - a first edition of the Bhagavad Gita - and used to mop up the mess. My offspring looked on blithely; I could hear them breathing very loudly.

[Anonymous No.15460286]

>>15460194
>>15460221
The floating anuses stared on, with their one brown eye as I, divided in my soul, chaos and order, was mopping up the blood of my deceased wife with one hand, fish hooking the gaping and moaning mouth of my child with the other as my Air Jordans squeaked on the museum floor with every thrust.

[Anonymous No.15460369]

>The story so far

It was a dark and stormy night. I was sitting on the museum floor. The candle I was using for a light flickering off the art, and adding life to the old masters.
I observed that stuffed tiger in the background was looking at me in a somewhat seductive manner, with cold dead eyes. It aroused something within me. I started fondling my balls in the dim candlelight.
The candle wax was beginning to be a problem as the night wore on. It had been burning for 3 hours now and despite its size the cheap wax was starting to drip on the floor. Only a few more hours until it could be scraped off the floor.
And what a wonder this very floor has come to be. Shovelfulls of shit have been placed in a manner so precious one should start to regard it as a work of art in and of itself.
My most successful labor by many, many leagues.
Despite the beauty of the room it held onto that musty stench that only went away as one got acclimated to the room. The paintings were no doubt damaged by this climate, but the artists were too long dead to care at all as their colors muddied with time. Half of the wax was on the floor. It was time to have the meeting.
Three men, latex clad, entered past the impressionists. A diamond of perspiration on each member, illuminated by the candles they carried. The man in green first placed his candle atop the pile, waiting for it to sink and settle before he drew his hand away. He spoke.
The second, blue, stepped up and placed his candle to the left.
I started to undress hastily. The candles could be used for more than just light if I allowed them to burn too low. I could see my naked body as a milky moon as I was illuminated by the living candlelight. The men all watched unmoving their masks hiding every shred of identity. New musk was going to be added to the old in the coming hours before dawn.
The ritual is just beginning. Perhaps, when this is over, I will have an experience worth looking back on. The initiation should be something that will stay in my memory until the end of my life...
Then a small dribble of doody dripped down my leg. Oh no, that burrito I got from that taco truck is coming back to bite me in the ass, literally. Maybe I should say something. No, I thought, best to hide it. I can't handle the embarrassment. If only there were a way to wipe this up before anyone notices. The stuffed tiger! I'll mount it and start riding it like a wild boar in heat, that should wipe the diarrhea out of my asshole, and they'll all think I've been entranced by the atmosphere instead of just wiping off my little mistake.
My cock is hard. I feel stupid, worthless. Dumb. I don't want to speak anymore. I don't want to hear myself. They're pouring something into my mouth. It's thick like honey, but it feels warm and alive inside my jaw.
It was the familiar flavor of a little bit of doody.

[Anonymous No.15460379]

>>15460369
Remembering the nature of this affair I thought it would perhaps even add to the occasion if I had some fresh, warm, dripping, doody painting my asshole like a deranged Pollock painting.
Savouring the taste of the doody this leather clad bull was pouring down my neck I started to rub my cock, thinking of the stuffed tiger in the corner. Oh, just imagine it; being ridden and mauled by a tiger, the lust and the fervour, the blood and the cum and the shit all mixed together like a potion of divine love and lust. Aphrodite herself would be envious of the ecstasy I was feeling in this moment.
Suddenly, like a tornado tearing up a Mexican children's party, my wife of three months burst through the door and commanded the attention of all eyes (including the stuffed tigers').

"Just WHAT do you think is going on here?" she boomed in her baritone voice. I was afraid the fun might be over if I did not make haste to tear my wife's masculine larynx from her throat, and let it quoth... nevermore.
Like John Stuart Mill hearing someone abusing their freedom of speech to incite mob violence outside the house of a wealth creator, I leapt into action. Wasting not a moment, I sprung at my wife, the mother of my fifteen deformed children, spraying her face with the contents of my mouth in the process.
I pulled a copy of Robert McNamara's memoirs from the shelf and brought the fuliginous thousand page tome down onto her skull, fracturing it instantly. She could not be allowed to destroy everything with her ignorance of the ways of men.
Turning to my esteemed guests, I held the tome in triumph and let out a thunderous roar. Zeus was inside me now, the blood of tiger, and warriors of old flowed through my veins. Nothing, not even the wife who had shackled me in the prison of her foolish feminine sensibilities for years, could stop me now. Tonight was mine.
But soft, what new consternation through yonder corridor breaks? A crowd of lumbering semi-morons had been trailing my accursed wife, and were now presenting themselves to my horrified visage.
Like Kurtz on his deathbed, I saw the faces of my fifteen deformed children, now freed from their basement incarceration by the pusillanimous womanliness of my wife, and recoiled in disgust. They stared at me like a black gas station attendant, in an eerie unison of action and gait.
I allowed the fear in only momentarily. I had conquered one obstacle, and the courage it brought was still pumping through me like the rush of a triumphant gladiator in the arena. I grabbed at the nearest child in my reach, threw him to the ground and proceeded to mercilessly inject him with my raging blood-lust fueled hard-on. Pumping and thrusting, blood and shit spewing from his freshly de-flowered asshole. Screams of horror came from his mouth, screams of ecstasy met them from mine. No one dared move a muscle, they knew when a lion was taking his meal that getting in the middle was a suicide mission.

[Anonymous No.15460387]

>>15460379
I turned back to my companions, I saw that they had transformed into spherical, floating anuses. I wondered to myself if this is what Deleuze and Guattari had been writing about all those years ago.
I was distracted from my musings, the new rather rectal character of my former compatriots, and the gawking vileness of my thrice fivefold spawn by the sound of gas leaving the recently deceased body of my wife. I saw that her skull, once full of the ITV 2 listings, was now oozing a strange red liquid (the character of which I was never to discover - I had not paid attention in phrenology class, so was not an expert on these matters). Not wanting to get my Air Jordans dirty with this mysterious liquid, I took another text down from the shelf - a first edition of the Bhagavad Gita - and used to mop up the mess. My offspring looked on blithely; I could hear them breathing very loudly.
The floating anuses stared on, with their one brown eye as I, divided in my soul, chaos and order, was mopping up the blood of my deceased wife with one hand, fish hooking the gaping and moaning mouth of my child with the other as my Air Jordans squeaked on the museum floor with every thrust.

[Anonymous No.15460415]

>>15460140
Get out of my thread.

[Anonymous No.15460446]

>>15460387
Then all of a sudden an ethereal echoing voice called out to me.
ned...
ned...
NED!!
Wake up, man!
I jolt upright. Cookie by my side.
"I hope you had a good nap Mr. Bigby." Says Mr. Sweeny looming over my desk and looking down my shirt.

[Anonymous No.15460455]

>>15460286
One of the anuses began to open up. Decaying, rotten, jagged teeth started to show. A blood-shot eyeball, the irises of which glowed like a fiery sun, started to peek through the teeth with blood dripping down the hairy, dingle-berry filled gooch. It began to speak, in a loud, booming voice. The voice of a God, an ancient, terrible God.
"Do you see that, children! That is a man. That is a man who has drank of the wine of my spirit! You, too, can taste of my wine. All you must do, is JOIN THE FUN!" Cackling laughter filled the hall and echoed throughout the museum, all the while the squeaking of the Air Jordans never ceased, and the other anuses began to vibrate.

[Anonymous No.15460465]

>>15460446
>>15460455
The duality of man.

[Anonymous No.15460474]

>>15460415
Never!

[Anonymous No.15460523]

>>15460446
>>15460455
*footnote: this is the first choose your own adventure timeline split decision. (continue dream or wake up?)

[Anonymous No.15460544]

>>15460523
We can flip the order and have Mr. Bigby wake up after the anuses begin to vibrate to continue with the single story.
Or the choose your own adventure, thread decides.

[Anonymous No.15461435]

>>15460455
>>15460446
I feel dehydrated. "Would you bring me something to drink, Mr. Sweeny?", I say, and observe his dilligent character turn his attention to the job.
He is admirable. Learned most of the duties as an ass-servant in a mere two-years, while being the first in his family to fill the role and having no tutor but his master. That really brings freshness to the mansion; not one of the previous Misters and Mistresses Carlington really livened my spirit as this one Sweeny does.
He arrives with wine. "Your new uniform is spotless, Mr. Sweeny. I'd like to change that."

[Anonymous No.15462306]

>>15461435
"Yes, of course master, but what ever do you mean?" I was holding his shirt, lightly and longingly. Gazing at the spotless white shirt, imagining what foul things I could do to soil the purity of it. I mustn't. I must! Oh, Gods, help me. I'm a deranged man, a man of secrecy, vile secrecy, and a great desire to act upon my devilish instincts and desires. That dream, that dream, I had awoken with a raging woody, stiff as an ancient oak. It begged and screamed at me to release my foul seed on whatever poor wretch happened to be near, but I mustn't. I have appearances to uphold. A family, a job. All would be lost if I gave into these wretched desires. A lost, cursed soul am I.

[Anonymous No.15462316]

>It was night; a dark and stormy one.

[Anonymous No.15462339]

It was a dark and stormy night... Despite this she lay there in comfortable beauty. Her mind lost in some unknowable dream. Her loving warmth illuminating not the room but my heart. Such a familiar sight, yet a sight that still fills me with greater emotion than any sweeping landscape or stunning portrait. So simple is her beauty, so magnificent is her presence.