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/lit/ - Literature

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20706504 No.20706504 [Reply] [Original]

Write a novel one post at a time. OpenAI is allowed as a crutch.
First trips decides title

>> No.20706524

Anon wakes up in a cold sweat. It's another sleepless night, and he can't help thinking about the glowniggers.

>> No.20706526


>> No.20706548

" a post on his thread showed. Anon was a glownigger himself, yet being a nigger mutt, and knowing the aptitude for violence inherent in all niggers, he leered in a paranoid niggerish way. He was afraid of the other glowniggers gangstalking him.

>> No.20706554

The glownigger threat looming over his head, Anon niggerly made his way to the basement where he stored his arsenal of niggerish weapons

>> No.20706555

Maybe it was time to get out of here.

"It's only gonna get worse," his mother said, and he thought of Big Jim's face and imagined his face.

A black nigger man, a Negro from the south, was standing in front of the door at his mother's house, his arm raised in protest, blocking access. An ordinary brown nigger. "Who's that? You gotta be kidding," he said in an undertone. It was, however, perfectly possible. He had seen the glownigger gang stalking him the other day, and he too had been afraid, and he was afraid now. He tried the door handle but it was locked.

He would wait for his mother to let him in. There was no one else here. It was not like him to be standing around her house talking to strangers, especially black nigger strangers. It was not his habit.

His mother had called him. He knew it must be something important.

"You gotta be kidding, Mom," he said aloud, and he heard the sound of the lock retracting, then the door handle turned, the door unlocked and opened, his mother standing in front of him, her face stricken, her eyes full of fear. "He took my car," she said.

Then the glownigger was inside the house and he could see his big nigger face, his big nigger shoulders and neck; could see the small brown eyes, the nigger eyebrows, and the little nigger ears, and the little nigger lips and black nigger teeth, and he felt the small nigger nails and fingers scratch the skin of his back.

He knew he had been had by the glownigger. The glownigger knew he was a loser, a punk, an Uncle Tom. He was black. In spite of his good job and his good family, he was black and the glownigger was going to make him pay.

He had been the next victim. He had tried to get away and he had been cornered, cornered like a bitch.

They had had it in for him from the beginning. His life was marked, he was sure of it. And they would take it from him now. They had found him and were going to kill him.

He did not want to die. He did not want to die a glownigger. He did not want to go like that. He had been good at his job. He had never caused trouble. His mother had seen to that. They had thought they could use him, make him do their dirty work, steal for them, rob for them, rob and mug white people for them. He had had the goods and he had sold them to them, but then he had turned on them and told them all to go fuck themselves.

>> No.20706556

Anon made a thread on /lit/ to collect the phone numbers of others. Being a glownigger, he was paid 5 pennies per word.

>> No.20706576

>Big Jim

>> No.20706644

Big Jim was a ruthless man, he had a heart of stone. He took what he wanted from the poor, and he never looked back. He took their land and their money, and he left them with nothin' but pain. But his money and his power were no match for the Jack of Hearts.

One day, Big Jim went too far, he took the one thing that the Jack of Hearts loved more than anything in the world. He took his woman away, and he left him with nothin' but pain.

The Jack of Hearts swore revenge, and he started to plan. He knew that Big Jim would never see him comin', he was much too smart. He waited for his chance, and he struck when he was least expected. He shot him through the heart, and he left him lyin' in the dirt.

The townspeople were relieved, and they cheered as the Jack of Hearts rode away. They knew that justice had been served, and they would never see Big Jim again.

>> No.20706676

Anon's novel, "Big Jim and the Jack of Hearts", was in its early stages of development. He couldn't help procrastinating, and only the description of the plot had been written so far, but he said he had a lot of ideas.

>> No.20706991 [DELETED] 


Neither they would see the Jack of Hearts. Because now he was John or, to be more precise — the John John.

"It's been a long time." The subtle but deep voice addressed him. "Have you got it?", John nodded in agreement.

The unknown figure was moving away and barely audible words reverberated through the building, "Yygor, proceed as we have discussed."

>> No.20706997

Neither they would see the Jack of Hearts. Because now he was John or, to be more precise — the John John.

"It's been a long time." The subtle but deep voice addressed him. "Have you got it?", John nodded in agreement.

The unknown figure was moving away and barely audible words reverberated through the building, "Yygor, proceed as we have discussed."

>> No.20707383

A large figure stepped forward. John John's cowboy hat was strewn to the side of his face. His hands were tied behind his back.

"No, please no!" He said, as the shadow approached him. "I'm sorry, I'll never do it again! Please- please! I'm sorry for killing that nigger Big J-"

There was a pause; suddenly the lights were switched on and the large figure - Yygor - was illuminated by the warehouse lights. Yygor looked behind him and said something in Russian, and then a second man came out. He was much shorter and (John John noticed this with a dreamlike fright) he had two heads, the second stemming from the neck of the first.

"This was a test." Yygor turned to John John and said. "I am a member of the Civilian Stress and Nigger Response Unit, and this is one of our routine tests. You were chosen as a random candidate for a routine test. Unfortunately you failed."

"Huh?" John John said. "What did you want me to do? Just let you kill me?"

"No." Yygor said. "Your verbal response wasn't the problem. In fact, your verbal response was just what we were expecting; rather, there was a defect in your physical stress response." He nudged a finger towards John John's crotch. "Specifically, your bladder-tension reflex."

John John looked down. There was a creeping realisation; a dreadful pit in his stomach opening up, growing larger and larger; No, he thought. No! It couldn't be; it hadn't happened for twenty years; surely it couldn't happen now, not now! But it was real. He could feel the sogginess of his blue jeans and the slightly depressed fabric pressing against his underwear.

With a terrible clarity and a sad, dejected voice voice, he spoke.

"I peed myself."

Yygor looked at him with sympathy. "That's right. You peed yourself. You peed yourself like a little baby-waby!" He threw his head back and roared with laughter. "You peed yourself! The Jack of Hearts has peed himself!" Then his laughter was joined with many others. John John watched as they came creeping out - slowly at first, hesitantly, then all rushing around him. He saw the two headed man that Yygor had talked with; he saw his neighbour Bill; he saw Jennie, his third grade crush. They're all here because of me, he thought. There must be five hundred people here. Pointing and laughing. All because I peed myself.

In that moment, John John's psyche cracked. His proud exterior - that dashing hero the Jack of Hearts - crumbled away like a rotten layer of wood. He was Marty, the fourth grade loser again. The kid who was always picked last for softball. And he was being laughed at again, because he couldn't hold his pee. He felt like he was going to cry.

>> No.20707512

Niggardly tears were running down his cheeks and landing on a floor. Sudden flashbacks of years of urinating in piss-bottles overcame his third eye. Strangely enough, at some point of his life it was a thing of pride — kind of a hood-wisdom, a counter-signifier in an underground dungeon of losers, non-sarcastic autists, crazed psychopaths. Honest dreamers, perhaps. Either way, the incoming images were tight — they both amazed and frightened him, with all these years he almost forgotten that he could see visions.

Man with two heads was patiently observing John John. As his face was frozen with the gaze unmoving. From all the stress his habituated mental vibrations were uprooted, it seemed like his deepest being was tapping into the next Super Saiyan form.

>> No.20707569

The man with the two heads leaned forwards into John John's face. He could feel his hot garlic breath. The man whispered into John John's ear.

"Hey John John. You know those cheerios you had for breakfast? They weren't actually cheerios."

"Huh?" John John said. "Wha-what are you talking abou-"

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a flash of light. The world was spinning; something was happening, John John thought. Something bad. There was a scream from the crowd - they had stopped laughing. He thought he heard Yygor's voice say "run! Everybody run!"

The floor melted away and the warehouse disappeared. He was falling down a hole. No, he was only falling into a tunnel - now he was riding a rainbow; riding a multi-coloured tunnel, going fast; going incredibly fast; then suddenly he was out!

John John was floating on his chair through a pitch black, frictionless substance. Far in the distance he could see specks of light, forming exotic letters. I'm in space, he realised. Somehow, I'm in space.

"We've been waiting for you John John," a voice boomed. The voice was like none he had ever heard before. "You are the chosen one."

John John looked around, trying to locate where it was coming from.

>> No.20707752

He turned his head and saw that there was an apparition, a ghost-like condensation which was getting more and more substantive. In a moment he saw a man wearing a suite who had a tattoo on his forehead. He looked closely — it was a letter B fashioned in a gothic style.

‘That must be the B-man.’, a thought emerged breaking from the fractals of nonsense. He felt dizzy and somewhat drunk, or rather unearthly. But it wasn’t completely unpleasant, a certain serenity about the experience was tangible; the absence of habitual reality was not pressing on his nerves very much, he felt collected.

‘Where am I’, said John John.

‘You? Well, you are at the threshold of the great beyond!’, the man exclaimed returning to his attentive and solemn look. ‘Are you eager to know what awaits you beyond this frontier?’

‘Yes, very much.’

The man continued to stare at him for a moment and then a big smile appeared on his face, he raised his right arm and said: ‘Look there!’ — A portal opened in the void, it was a mirror-like oval painted in all black; in that eerie space different images started to appear. Until one remained, in which John John has recognised himself. He was sitting on a bench and looking lost. He was observing — cars and pedestrians, families and trees. Trying to spot in that chaos of habitual normalcy something that might be of significance. Something of the different. ‘Do you remember that episode?’

John John did not respond, he looked and looked as if he was hypnotised.

>> No.20708830
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His hypnosis was interrupted with the voice.

‘’Think about the principle of duality: there are two mysterial brothers. There are two legs. There is one dick.. — with TWO balls. That man with two heads…’ — ‘Yeah, the same principle’, John John hastily attempted to demonstrate his abilities of comprehension but the man with the tattoo interrupted him with a loud ‘NO!’

John John retreated and was visibly confused, hanging there in space almost naked.

And the man continued, "that is exactly what I am trying to communicate right now, the two headed creature is only a pawn in the 5d maincraft game. And he cleerly got much sugar in him. He’s fruity, you dig? Two penises and one ball — what would that be?"

The situation was escalating quickly. The whole tone of what was going on was changing and John John started to notice it. The man’s suit started to change its colors and now was flashing rainbows. John John felt he was entering a less conscious state.

"John, concentrate! We are experiencing a sudden intervention. Our signal is getting diluted. We don’t have much time left. So I will speak abruptly. It is in the monadology, John. And the number two. Two kings — that Yakoob and the Yakoob of England. The common Hitchens and Hitchens, the Hated. Find the EGG SELLER. The two brothers, Big Bang, bada-bing bada-boom. Ayakuzak ala-la balls penny sssneed the future Chuck" —

The tattooed man was dissipating, flashing and glitching, and the whole situation felt unnerving; John John had a natural impulse to close his eyes. And after a moment, when he was able to see again — there was only him in the void; embraced by the soothing silence. Somehow he wasn't disoriented and knew that he would meet the tattooed man again. Only when? And in what circumstances..


He woke up on a concrete floor of an unknown facility soaked in his own piss. There was no one around to explain him what happened but luckily the door wasn’t locked. And he freely walked from the premises. The first thing he noticed — it was just before the sunrise, still dark with the first glimpses of morning visible on the horizon.

Apart from feeling uncomfortable in those piss-stained pants, he was somehow relieved: purity and meaning on the inside outweighed all outer inconveniences. His mind was clear and memories of the past night were vivid and meaningful. The egg seller.. Which reminded him that before all else he must eat some real food as it was all too easy to forget about everything and be untimely lost in that oblivion of a mind of his.

>> No.20709005
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As he walked out of the warehouse's open doors, he realised that he was the top of a very tall mountain. He shivered; it was snowcapped, and the wind was cold. All he had was his tattered brown cloak and his piss-soaked blue jeans. I can't stay here, he thought.

Dawn broke when he was halfway down the mountain. John John sat down on a fallen tree nearby. He listened and heard the forest coming to life; the birds beginning to sing; the bushes beginning to rustle. He closed his eyes, replaying the events of the past day in his mind. He recalled the warehouse, the two headed man and then finally his conversation with the man in space.

After a very long time, he opened his eyes. The sun was shining in full midday glory now. It was a vision, he concluded. A vision from God. That man - the tattooed man, the ghost, whatever he was - was a messenger of God.

>> No.20709063

Stick to reading, faggots.

>> No.20709479

I'm enjoying this so far

>> No.20709541

Why not contribute to the story? It’s not a super serious thing but it’s pretty fun

>> No.20709655

John John looked on with ancient awe at the sea of stars, and found kinship in the stormy nebulas with the very turmoil of his soul. The Milky Way flowed over the wilderness, shining with souls of ancestors casting their shadows into the future. Though the great wheels of the cosmos turned with authority, they appeared still. On the spokes of samsara, the spheres of fire rode towards uncertain futures. The splendour of all creation would never be enough to sate any of them, that's for sure. John John pondered the ominous shape of the Orion constellation, then turned on his side and fell asleep.

>> No.20711411

The next morning, John John awoke to a beautiful sunrise. He felt refreshed and invigorated, and he knew that today was the day he would finally make his decision. He knew that he could either continue to live his life the way he had been, or he could seize this opportunity and make a change. He decided to seize the opportunity.

John John got up and made his way down to the river. He washed himself in the cool water, then sat down on the bank and looked out at the world around him.

>> No.20711421

And the main character killed himself once and for all.


>> No.20711461



>> No.20711560

"It was all a dream, I used to shitpost about bigger sneed
Kek and Pepe, Chuck's stepping on the scene" — tunes from the past life were playing in John John's head. Memories of which were becoming less tangible and less dramatic. "Has it ever happened?", he wondered, answering to himself, "No, what's real is where I am now." And real it was, even if significantly more than "real" as he was ascending through aethers in a vortex of light, gliding to some other place he was yet to witness. Each ontological layer that he passed would present him a gift; so far he found in his pockets a little wooden horse, a glass crack pipe with a skull on it, and keys that made him think for a brief moment what they could be from.

Finally, after about twenty minutes the experience started to change. He reached an island floating in endless sea of aerial space. On approaching it, all he noticed mountains looming far away. And a column of light that was reaching upwards and seemed without end. He noticed that three figures were approaching him from a far distance. They were riding on horses.

When they they got closer a lightning of amazement struck John John. It was Friedrich Nietzsche himself. "Surely, I recognize that moustache ", thought struck a shamanic drum of John's mind, "But he's more atlhetic.. It's either they have lied about him or the air on this island is altogether different.." Around him were two beautiful maidens wearing skirts, he appreciated their hormonal profile and vividly AAAH so vividly imagined the smell. He felt a burst of vril in is penis chakra.

"Greetings!", Nietzsche raised his right arm in a welcoming gesture, "You have finally arrived. Please, show us the sign." Intuitively John John knew what is being asked and reaching in his pocket he took out a little wooden horse. "Good. But do you know what is that?" John John waved his head negatively. "It is a horse symbolon of not losing your faith. And that other thing-of-glass means you showed courage in the face of death and dementia, and it means you are worthy."

"Now come, we shall ride to the citadel."

>> No.20711625

They all got on their horses and set off. As they were riding, the maidens were holding on to Nietzsche and John John was holding on to one of the maidens. The felt an erection of the most heavenly kind, it was like his jimmies were rustled in the most perfect way and he was about to nut. They rode for what felt like eternity and finally they arrived at the foot of the mountain. There was a castle there, and it looked like it was made of gold.

"This is the citadel of the Übermensch.", said Nietzsche, "And you, John John, are the first of the new breed."

>> No.20711697

When he awoke, the night had deepened and the stars had shifted in the sky. The Milky Way now flowed directly over him, and the nebulas had taken on the form of a great dragon. The dragon's eyes were two bright stars, and its mouth was a dark maw that seemed to swallow the light. John John felt a cold chill, and he knew that he was in the presence of something ancient and powerful. The dragon stared at him, and John John felt as though it was looking into his soul. Then the dragon spoke, in a voice that was both deep and gentle.

>> No.20711703 [DELETED] 

“But before we enter”, said Nietzsche, “would you agree to visit our local zoo?”

“Sure”, said John John and they turned left and rode for about 6 minutes.

The first thing he saw was a cage with a monky in it. On it was written NEGARJANY and the monky in it was peacful and somewhat absent-minded. But there was also an another monky, and that monky was agressive. That monky was throwing shit. They called him Guenon.

Nietzsche raised a big stick from the ur-ground and waved it fiercely, landing it on the cage of mischievous monkey, exclaiming, "Quiet you rascal, you aggressive monky! Or you will have to meet Dr. Sussy and he will consult you about your well-being." Monky named Guenon ceased all mischief and put on a pair of glasses and continued with his monky business.

>> No.20712256

"Did you know that dragons exist in the future and not in the past? Did you know that, John John? And know thing that there is no future. Simply no future. One thing on a horizon and it is a giant boot that facesits you anusing your tongue for all eternity. With no dragons in sight, John John. No dragons ever near. No webbed dragon wings. No dragon flights. No dragon pussy. No dragon anything. Just a leather boot-ass faceapp sitting you on zoom phd lectures and notes ever after happily merrried for like all eternity, John John?"

John John was confused. "Huh, how's that?", he said.

"That's simple. Every thought is part of a mandala. Every thought is referencing a particular monad. If what you are seeing around is only ONE monad and it was POISONED, i.e. injected with an enemy's horizon — you will only see what an enemy wants you to see. Where was the assemblage point of this whole situation? Think, John John. You need to follow right to that place and to protect the store from ambivalent projections. It is your birthright."

John John had a flashback with him sitting on a bench. In that park. Lonely and aloof. Like a wooden horse he stood on a window. Lifeless, motionless, ostracized.

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