Impress us with your prose of no longer than 50 words.

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Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:22:49 2013 No.4097840 [DELETED]

Impress us with your prose of no longer than 50 words.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:28:35 2013 No.4097852 >dat schlong

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:29:34 2013 No.4097853 "Are book?"

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:31:35 2013 No.4097859

>>4097840
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.

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:37:35 2013 No.4097867

The reddish pink bulbous protusion slowly morphed into a semi-circle. Small, stony white sections of hard bone were uncovered. He was smiling.
“You have done well, Orelius.”
“Thank you sir.” said Orelius. The man lifted the appendage at the end of the arm, which Orelius grasped. It felt so strong. It felt like a king.

Mutemattics !!58hTUK7XbfZ Sun Sep 8 19:39:35 2013 No.4097871
File: 6 KB, 190x296, logeic.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

It was a dark and stormy night.
"Why are you doing this to me??!!" He yelled.
He revealed his teeth.
Human:"b-but vampires don't exist"
Vampire:"exist THIS"
All hell broke loose as the vampire kicked him in the nuts.

It turned out the human was a vampire as well, the whole time.
And other humans were dead from the start.
In a dream.
Within a dream.
Written in a book.
By woman.
Who was actually a man.
That was in a coma.
That was induced when he fell down tripping on a pepsi twist can.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:39:35 2013 No.4097872 You might be surprised to find a woman with a cock, but I assure you, it is real. Touch it. If you touch it, you can touch anything else. This is your Faustian bargain.

>>	Idontwanttobehere !!gVL0FyzPeMv Sun Sep 8 19:40:35 2013 No.4097873 >>4097867 not too good

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:40:35 2013 No.4097874 Holy shit that girl has a huge penis

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:41:35 2013 No.4097877 >>4097867 reads so clunky

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:42:35 2013 No.4097879 i over-reached, i fell, i reached again.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:44:35 2013 No.4097881 Sometimes, if on a quiet afternoon I nap a certain way and shower gently, I forget how to think. My thoughts fade away and my senses reign; my mind becomes a tunnel for feeling and my skin melts into the clouds.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:44:35 2013 No.4097882 Everythin' gonna be alright this mornin'. Oh yeah. Now when I was a young boy, at the age of 5, my mother said I was gonna be the greatest man alive. But now I'm a man, I passed 21. I want you to believe me baby I had lots of fun.

Idontwanttobehere !!gVL0FyzPeMv Sun Sep 8 19:45:34 2013 No.4097885

The poop hit the toilet. It made a huge clunking sound. No sooner than it hit the porcelain walls was there to be heard a person screaming in pain. On closer inspection it was not poop at all, but a poop covered living being. It was flailing all over the place, making a strange sound.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:49:36 2013 No.4097894 I finger those seems, and her cotton organs fall to my feet. Now I go home.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 19:53:35 2013 No.4097903 She had cancer and she died like a little bitch.

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:06:52 2013 No.4097934

As if the ice on the road wasn't enough to make him nervous, her slender fingers tracing tree branches up and down his thigh surely was. How distracting did she intend to be as they traversed the highway towards his mother's house?

Gooey white escaped him and he shuddered, crashing.

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:18:52 2013 No.4097962

twenty and eight years have gone since my birth. I never had strong sensations , because since child I have developed an anesthesia for pain or pleasure. All this years filled with more misery than glory are ending , I find myself reaching a rebirth, an awakening. The reality craftsmen from centuries and centuries, most of them already dead a few of them alive; are touching and telling me to burn the bulletproof vest. For good or for bad I have no option but to do what they are telling me.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:20:40 2013 No.4097970 >>4097934 That last line was perfect.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:30:39 2013 No.4097993 The water thick air is so hard to pull into my lungs. I smoke a cigarette going up the hill instead. The small change I stole is gone. With a bottle of milk in hand, walking home in too few layers for the weather, I look like a respectable citizen.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:36:39 2013 No.4098008 >>4097970 I'm good at finishing early but leaving my partners unsatisfied

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:37:39 2013 No.4098011 >>4097970 Thanks. I'm good at finishing early but leaving my partners unsatisfied

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:38:39 2013 No.4098013 I want to write your name with my tongue in the half revealing condensation of the glass. You won’t be there if I lick it. The salt sweat taste tunnels down the cracks of my lips pleasantly, telling me they would be no barrier to your blood if you were.

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:40:39 2013 No.4098018

"What times two is the sum of life?" said the grey-robed one.

"What is the sum of death?" said the black-robed one.

"What does life equal in death?" said the Elder.

"I would like to taste him." said the girl.

"As would I." said the boy.

"And so you shall, said the Elder."

The old man begins shuffling towards you, his shredded robes trail at his feet and from his sleeve he pulls out a jagged blade. You struggle, tearing at your binds to no avail, you pull and pull until the ligaments in your wrists are torn and the odd numb pain courses through you. The man is now at your side, and you feel the cold touch of his blade as he runs it along your abdomen and past your chest, the first slice was clean, and you didn't feel it until you looked up, to see a little girl chewing on a slab of your flesh.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:41:38 2013 No.4098022 File: 1.41 MB, 350x272, 1365913827238.gif [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] Oversold, Eve no longer wonders what hide beyond the hill, she has been there and seen all that had been laid true under the moon's eyes. Her sleep no longer holds promise.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:49:39 2013 No.4098059 >>4097859 id read this story

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 20:50:38 2013 No.4098061 the the the and yours and mine and up over above all and the the within without and the in and and and out through for the the the time less the the the

Is Cormac McCarthy autistic? Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:04:39 2013 No.4098106
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Cormac McCarthy scraped around the room and got the lantern and got a match from an old matchbook and lit the lantern and set it down on the table on which perched the Lettera 32 Olivetti typewriter. Cormac sitting. His broad domed skull thinned of hair and bluegrey in the dim light like the crown of Pluto himself. Sitting in the dark. In stillness in which no soul moves and only his fingers move casting shadows like monstrous arachnids in silhouette on the far wall.

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:14:28 2013 No.4098141

I have made my summation.

I am loved and cared for; someone feeds me everyday. I have never woken to old sheets.

It is peacefully unbroken here; my time is awash in sleep and dreams.

I am not ready; this keeps you from me, brushing crumbs facelessly from my chin.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:14:28 2013 No.4098142 I will impress her with my swole I said and thus it had begun, my washing machine exploded. I hath become Dog, God of Bods. And then I descended unto heaven and filled it with the parasite known as Man.

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:20:28 2013 No.4098161

I broke on the first of last month, splinters of self sent shooting into the night with one piercing cry.

Something had left me. Something had broken free, and I did not know what remained, only that the escape had left it seared, a frigid streak of anger that kept me from moving, lest I should eject some other part of myself unwittingly.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:26:28 2013 No.4098176 Every fucking time! You need to keep your dip bottles off the floor. Someone's gonna tip one over and it sure as shit not gonna be my fault!

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:28:28 2013 No.4098183

Split tongued from the last shudder, she remembered her mother saying not to let sweat dry against your back and pulled the sheet closer. Blood trailed the same temperature but some other consistency to the air over both lips. She hoped it wouldn’t all burst through her veins before dying.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:37:29 2013 No.4098208 I left your coat rack up. The next tenants might use it. It would be nice change for this house to have someone take off their coat, hang it up, and not turn into a total bitch.

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:53:28 2013 No.4098233

I am rich this week. I thought you should know. I can smoke endlessly, cook any meal made with milk, launder the towels and sheets, and trail each open vial over your porous skin without concern; I can build a palace where the heralds speak only of us. Come by.

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:55:28 2013 No.4098235

As the round hit, the golden disk of the sun was pulled inside out. Meters of flesh and bone, steel and foam, compressed into a ball and the pulled out the other side. Of that yellow shield that had been there before, a million amber tears were shredded outward.

MrThrills !aAnvD.FqpM Sun Sep 8 21:55:28 2013 No.4098237

"You gotta get the rhythm right," he told me. "Right now you're just smashing into her and _she's_ trying to match _your_ movement. And that's hard to do on all fours. You've gotta buck before she screams. She yells and you pull. Buck and pull – she's the boss.”

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 21:59:29 2013 No.4098246 Do you ever get that tugging sensation when you look off a tall building to just jump?

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 22:02:28 2013 No.4098250 It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly a shot rang out! It wasn't the butler who did it.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 22:13:29 2013 No.4098278 >>4098246 Someone just watched Louie.

>>	Anonymous Sun Sep 8 22:20:28 2013 No.4098300 I can feel it there, the note you fastened with a star shaped clip to my brain. I can’t read it but don’t care. It’s like the cockroach that shuffles down your leg late at night in bed- no knowing more or any movement will stop it having been there.

Anonymous Sun Sep 8 23:39:52 2013 No.4098570

...and sobs dove his mighty Hebrew hammer into the shit-filled niggercunt, and then thy were fucking. Black pubic hair like frayed wires bowing and screeching on piss-rusted bed springs rocked into her fleshy back, pumping and swaying until all the river run through valley and spume, flowing and snowing on all the crests and ridges, upon all the progeny and ancestry of the living and the dead.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 00:18:13 2013 No.4098641

Poison toothed, sweet air choked around your tongue in the trundling exegesis of your bedroom talk. The venom casing the emerging wet butterfly sounds dropped them green and twitching to the sheet you clawed in anticipation of their flight, like doctored enthusiasm could bring your pinned wide cunt sunlight.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 00:37:30 2013 No.4098688 File: 18 KB, 163x273, privilege card.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4097840 >tfw receiving my privilege card and checking it

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 00:40:30 2013 No.4098699 If you can't attract the girl in the OP, you might as well just give up. That's easy pickings.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 01:08:31 2013 No.4098750

I saw the scarlet rain falling on the pale canvas, and while blue reflections were losing light, I held my mouth drawing doodles with ruby ink in all its glory.
And I rejoiced in the storm that just fell, I saw my feat build pure fruit, lying on the ground and hugging her, I closed my eyes to dream and stay awake.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 01:47:19 2013 No.4098816
File: 960 KB, 1600x1200, 1372796797573.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

>>4097840
Badness Rerecords - Kill In Sack Productions
The needle weaves its way along the groove like it were countryside--a badness of terrafrom to meet a formation of badness in earth form told in tune, one to one to one--concrete to chord to re-chord of land on vinyl bank way.

The music was bad like the recording equipment and the pressing and like the earth; the earth where venetian channels strolled rollers breaking gray banks like whirlpool banks, like Charybdis, rest eating all into one and drowning sound into nothing but inward rush.

(It's about like the 90s suburbia that is killing small town alt music scenes with it's conformity :^))

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 03:48:29 2013 No.4099010
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About twenty people having meat broth in a cue passing three ground floor apartment doors and a plastic roman fountain, waiting for a lady with a Björn Borg haircut and off-white unlaced Reeboks to lift the bars of the second window where the coffee is better and the lottery tickets more reliable.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 03:57:31 2013 No.4099019 You folded your legs, right foot to left knee. You laughed at my back, said you could not believe how violent I could be, just brushing my teeth.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 04:41:30 2013 No.4099043
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>>4098106
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

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 04:50:29 2013 No.4099047
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>>4098816
Bjorn Borg is not here to criticize your stuff in the classical sense of internet criticism. While I do think that suburbia in the last decade of local music scenes is something to write about, it feels stale and old. Unless a group of middle-aged-try-hard academics are trying to save the music scene, which would be cool as well I guess, it's hard to see the reason for why you would write like this. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're thinking seattle-young and-desperate-outsider-type nineties, right? Your shit should read like like it.

Loose literary hyphens, semicolons, and random words like charybdis, terrafrom and venetian channels. No nineties grunge kid used this kind of symbolism. Write simple about complex things, not the other way around, unless you're going with the academics idea, in which case you should check your commas.

No hate (It's difficult to critique shit without being sounding negative)

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 05:32:09 2013 No.4099065 >>4099019 I like this, genuinely. Sounds like lyrics to a song though, maybe not so much like prose.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 05:33:10 2013 No.4099067

The trees shimmered with ice in morning twilight while the army continued its crawl across the landscape. "The cold is wearing hard upon the men sir." remarked Major Vorobyov, "They are concerned we may not have enough provisions to return." Colonel Sokolov sneered, "We aren't going back Major."

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 05:48:56 2013 No.4099082

Clothed in virginal insanity, the orphan boy followed the red lights like a wise man following the star of Bethlehem, convinced that, just for a moment, and for the right price, he might finally know the warmth of a mother's breast and the security of her arms.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 05:58:55 2013 No.4099099 bump

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 06:07:55 2013 No.4099106

Westwards the convoys followed the sun, over dirt and water and sand until they rested on the warm dust of California. And when they stopped the men left their trucks and dabbed their faces and wanted to sit on hoods that were too hot to sit on, so they could only stand and wait for word. They looked back east and saw the mountains bruising blue to purple and strained to remember whether they crossed them or not, though they must have since they were big and wide and everywhere.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 06:17:56 2013 No.4099116 >>4099082 Why are you wasting time here, you should be writing novels.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 10:25:58 2013 No.4099430 bump

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 10:34:27 2013 No.4099455 >>4099082 Beautiful.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 11:12:13 2013 No.4099511

The room was red and it kept getting darker as the man bled whatever his body still had out of every hole he possessed. His cries went softer and shorter as his mouth furiously ejaculated the condemned colour with God's complete wrath. The son knelt, yelled and wept as he lied in his father's blood exposing his naked flesh and innocent mind to an everlasting tension which will squeeze his heart till the end.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 11:40:14 2013 No.4099550

Halos hung about the streetlamps as they stood plumb, shrouded in the raw fog hanging low across the city. Silence, smoldering in the darkened, sunless morning, was peppered with the cold, rhythmic clicking of a single freewheel, spinning behind a bicycle.
“Almost,” she said.
“Almost.”

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 11:44:14 2013 No.4099559

They stood, clones of clones of clones, surrounded by the will of a committee of unanimity. One turned to the other as the other turned to the one as they wondered, for an instant, what might be living behind their partners eyes, behind their hearts, beyond their bodies.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 11:50:14 2013 No.4099574 >>4098059 lel that's not original. A guy wrote a short story around it. THe thread might still be alive.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 12:05:14 2013 No.4099609 Sighs swell cavernous to match the familiar footprints of repeated paths traveled and tasteless buds swelling. Always longing for the moments that have bloomed past you with the same autumn ailment that’s stained the rest, but harvest the next.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 12:05:15 2013 No.4099608
File: 32 KB, 460x352, 5884374_460s_v2.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

Look forward
See tired eyes
See the strain of time,
Etched into weary faces
Life has been kind but
Not merciful
The timing is off
You can feel it
Hanging in the air like
A heavy mist over the water

Close your eyes,
Look forwards once again
And – open
The tiredness and the weariness are not there
Thoughts and ideas run free -
They are able to.

Possibility hangs in the air like
A heavy cloud before a storm;
Its there with purpose

You hold in your arms,
More than a composition
Of mind, body and soul.
More than a dream
That can change with every surge
Of emotion.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 12:13:15 2013 No.4099617

She sat, legs tucked beneath her, on a fabric, pattern adorned chair. One of the chairs you might typically find decorating a large hall alcove or other nook – the kind habitually encased in fine layers of dust that might be expelled from its stuffed depths if anyone were to actually employ it’s prime function. The chair in question was haphazardly situated between the two black leather monuments that struggled to hold her parents. And yet the chair was also behind them – or more specifically, behind an ornate glass table that required many coasters and hushed warnings. The chair’s position belied the position of its inhabitant. She was not in line with the other chair occupants, nor was she more important than the glassy accessories that filled the large room. Her presence was noted in the same way that the table was acknowledged to fill a place in the void of the room. She too was decorative fodder.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 12:16:15 2013 No.4099624 >>4099617 Is this a police report? You're not telling the story, you're giving us instructions on how to tell it ourselves.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 12:21:13 2013 No.4099635 Mary-Ann with dead daisies in her hair and no shoes. Mary-Ann, a bullet lodged in his thick, dumb head and she put it there, I was sure of it. But Mary-Ann, that raven, that harlot singing and cursing on the roof, she was mine, mine, mine.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 12:27:50 2013 No.4099646

Nobody could tell me by brother at least had a peaceful death. He didn't. He died like cattle. The cattle-boy, the cattle-baby, like a sheep, a cow, a pig, a slaughtered pig, that was my brother. There was no beauty in his death. My brother died like cattle.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 12:37:51 2013 No.4099662

The grass in the backyard was long and atrophied and too weak to fight the side of Saul’s spear. The blades were refugees, and they starved like refugees, over earth that cracked and crumbled into the dust of a middle-eastern country that he needed to save. Some slumped like bodies against the apple tree, brown and limp and curled into the dry bark as if to muffle their cries. The wind blew down to rustle leaves and down farther into the grass, and the blades shifted and wept for the fallen that lay against the tree. And blond hair was blown from the eyes of the boy who hunted and exploited the sorrowful blades as he shred them back to the dirt.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 12:51:36 2013 No.4099680
File: 26 KB, 500x368, nosferatu-herzog_large.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

– You have 0 unread messages –

James closed his laptop and lit a cigarette. His interview was a week ago. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket:

"heyy what's up tonight?"

Natasha. He was happy to hear from her which was unlike him. He lit another cigarette and set his phone on the coffee table.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 12:56:37 2013 No.4099691 The light was fading like a dimmer switch. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 13:06:37 2013 No.4099712 A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 13:49:37 2013 No.4099821

>>4099680
cigarettes, James, "heyy what's up tonight" and coffee tables are all very cliche... I want something creative! I think your readers would too. I wouldn't be surprised if they set it down because it was very unoriginal.. It also seems like everything is happening too fast

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 13:58:36 2013 No.4099852 File: 402 KB, 700x700, astounding.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4099821 i don't think you understand what a 'cliche' is.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:01:13 2013 No.4099856 >>4097871 I chuckled

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:03:12 2013 No.4099866

>>4099852
expression, idea, or element of an artistic work which has become overused to the point of losing its original meaning, or effect, and even, to the point of being trite or irritating, especially when at some earlier time it was considered meaningful or novel

mofo I got that from wikipedia

If not a cliche then at least something that feels tired, to me...

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:03:12 2013 No.4099867 File: 319 B, 105x58, null.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4099821

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:04:12 2013 No.4099870 >>4099866 Having a character named James feels tired to you? What do you think would be a better alternative?

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:08:12 2013 No.4099877 >>4099870 I'm sorry, I didn't mean James.. I was wrong about that part I just mean, when I read it, it feels bland. I have read lots of stuff on here in which a supposed bad ass is sitting beside a coffee table lighting a cigarette

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:09:12 2013 No.4099881 >>4099870 "Xbalanque"

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:10:12 2013 No.4099883 >>4099866 that's a great definition. so ask yourself: have cigarettes, "james" and coffee tables lost their "original meaning"?

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:12:13 2013 No.4099889 >>4099883 their original aesthetic is tired to me, that's what I'm saying, especially when used in a straight forward, non subtle way. I don't have anything against the writer, this is just what I feel

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:13:13 2013 No.4099890 >>4099877 >supposed bad ass where are you getting this? >sitting beside a coffee table lighting a cigarette that's a pretty common activity. do you think love stories are cliche too?

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:19:11 2013 No.4099907

>>4099890
I don't know... I just really value creativity

I think your story could be fine. That was just my initial reaction, and it why I wrote about it. It was "this has been done before". I couldn't help it, it's just the way I felt..

but I think you've convinced me it isn't so bad, I could read more of it, if you like

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:19:11 2013 No.4099910 >>4099890 You should write an anti-love story. About two people who hate each other, almost fall in love during kinky hate-sex but then realize they actually hate each other and have angry sex every few days until one of them dies.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:21:12 2013 No.4099918 >>4099910 would read

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:23:11 2013 No.4099929

>>4099907

i appreciate your feedback, unfortunately i haven't written any more of it.

>>4099910

i've never experienced anything like that so i'd probably be bad at writing about it. it also seems pretty cynical to think anyone would want to read a nasty story like that anyway.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:24:11 2013 No.4099933 >>4099929 >it also seems pretty cynical to think anyone would want to read a nasty story like that anyway. >>4099918 lol

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:26:13 2013 No.4099943 >>4097881 why do you need fade "away"? why not just fade?

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:28:11 2013 No.4099951 >>4099929 I think it would be a good study of how a person can love the people they hate and hate the people they love.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:28:11 2013 No.4099954 >>4097881 post feet pls

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:34:13 2013 No.4099969 >>4099943 because just "fade" doesn't imply disappearance. Fading AWAY means whatever is fading eventually vanishes. My jeans have faded, and my good looks have faded AWAY.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:35:13 2013 No.4099974 >>4099943 also, not the poster you asked, I just generally chimed in without looking. sorry.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:35:13 2013 No.4099976 >>4099969 post no tells me i only have to worry about the jeans

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:36:13 2013 No.4099977 >>4097852 lulz

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:45:16 2013 No.4100001

People stared at the bridge and wondered. Some dreamed of light and some of darkness. Some dismissed it as only a bridge, and others refused to believe it was there. In the end only one tried to cross. He crossed when the shadows were dark and the rain was heavy

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:53:15 2013 No.4100024 >>4099550 >>/n/

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 14:58:16 2013 No.4100034 File: 241 KB, 390x269, clapping.gif [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4099082 >>4099106 >>4100001 I thought these were really well done. Good job.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:07:16 2013 No.4100045 File: 124 KB, 505x490, 21 sad moustache hairs.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4100034 >tfw skipped

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:08:16 2013 No.4100047 >>4100045 Fucking hell, that's not the picture I posted. The title is right though.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:13:33 2013 No.4100052 Sometimes my tea stirs itself.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:35:19 2013 No.4100099 behold, a baby's born. it's a girl, says the doctor. and that's that. the being's called something, anything, nevermind what. and lo, a void. but nevermind that we've just built absolutely nothing out of something.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:39:21 2013 No.4100114 >>4099106 trying and failing to write like cormac mccarthy. Nice asyndeton. You're trying way too hard. Tell the truth instead of worrying about sounding noir and archaic.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:43:20 2013 No.4100120

Nobody could have foreseen the effects brought about by the experiment: the girl's body, by this point spherical, turgid, and a deep shade of violet, looked fit to burst at any moment. She opened her mouth as if to cry out, but instead issued a gout of viscous, purple ooze.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:48:19 2013 No.4100136
File: 153 KB, 1632x1224, Karpacz_Samotnia_sniezyca.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

English is not my native language, so I can't even tell if it's similar to what I wrote (or even grammatically correct). But here it is:

There they stood. Leaning on the snow showels, smouldering their first morning smokes. It was just past six, and sidewalks had no even tiny bit of snow. Passers-by were staring at them with barely conscious incomprehension, but they were just doing their job. Waiting for the first snowstorm with grim, sentinel-like tension.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:51:20 2013 No.4100145 >>4100120 subtle, well placed.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:51:20 2013 No.4100146 >>4100120 Are you re-writing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 15:53:19 2013 No.4100152 >>4100146 leave now before it's too late for you anonchun

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 16:08:20 2013 No.4100221 >>4100136 It's fairly obvious that English isn't your first language, but your vocabulary is impressive, even if your snippet contains some small grammatical errors

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 16:08:21 2013 No.4100217

I dunno I've always been sort of interested in writing some sort of story completely in a Wigan /Lancashire accent.

"Betwixt a rock an’ an ‘ard place John was, aye. The apartment ‘e dwelled in wus an’ alc’olic coffin byt’ time thi found ‘im. Therapist did a shite job. Norractually worth ‘is mahogany enriched office if y’asked anyone 'ho knew the fella. Jus’ sat there an’ listened t’ John’s ramblin’s abart ‘is posthumously adored wife."

Nah sorry I'm out come back to me in a decade.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 16:13:21 2013 No.4100240

>>4099082
Fucking amazing. Please keep writing. The only thing I would perhaps change is the repetition of "follow," though that may be intentional on your part. Perhaps you could change "following" to "chasing" or "pursuing." They seem a bit too close together to me. It's just something to consider.

>>4099106
Also fantastic. I haven't read enough McCarthy to compare you to him as the other guy did, but for what it's worth, I really like the style, especially the repetition of "and."

Anon Mon Sep 9 16:21:52 2013 No.4100277

Never tried this before, but oh well, eff it, I'll give it a shot.

As I was drowning my life didn't play before my eyes. In fact, I felt nothing. Maybe despair. "Is this what death brings? Nothingness?"
I survived. And realized, that it's life that brings nothingness.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 16:33:53 2013 No.4100306

Gaping Gill, swift to mate errthors, stern to checkself, (diagnosing through eustacetube that it was to make with a markedly postpuberal hypertituitary type of Heidelberg mannleich cavern ethics) lufted his slopingforward, bad Sweatagore good murrough and dublnotch on to it as he was greedly obliged.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 16:57:53 2013 No.4100365 >>4100306 winner

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 17:10:53 2013 No.4100394 >>4100306 What's with all these pseudo-Joyce's on /lit/ recently?

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 17:14:53 2013 No.4100401 >>4098750 Not terrible. Not great, but not terrible.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 17:24:52 2013 No.4100422

Hargrave took out a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his coat. He took one out and tapped it against the pack and put the pack away and slipped the cigarette into the seam of his mouth. You know the Staties aren’t gonna like any huntin in Coös County next week. They hear gunshots they’re gonna come for you and haul your ass to Twin Mountain in Carroll.
I know.
The constable snapped a match into life with his thumbnail, lit his cigarette.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 17:37:54 2013 No.4100451

The harrowed hills did sway in the waves, making no sounds but their own. The trees stumbled forth from the ground, and grew. Nay! The world grew small around them, until their roots cracked through to the other side, turning it all to dust, yet God slept on, into forever.

Exactly fifty, unless I miscounted.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 17:38:54 2013 No.4100456

Shit happens. That's what I told myself as I began falling 50 stories from a building in the commercial district of Vancouver. I wondered how long it would take to reach the ground. I thought "1" in my head, but I realized I didn't want to count. I watched the blue windows pass by in a blur. All I could hear was air rushing past my ears. Then the screams of people, then I saw the concrete coming at me very quickly, then I died.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 17:40:53 2013 No.4100462

I will tell you what, hit was a holler, and a big'un. You could of put three hundred farmsteads in that holler and never have seen them for the trees. There was farmsteads in there, too: big old creekstone barns with silvered pine shingles sticking up out of the laural and poplar, and cozy little houses with window faces watching the road. And pasture-fields full of green grass and pied heifers chewing in amongst the timothy. Hit looked homey, and the birds singing and the smell pine tar and woodsmoke on the air. Only there weren't nobody there, young'uns. Not nary soul.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 17:45:53 2013 No.4100468 >>4100456 >then I died. A modern epic bro.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 17:48:53 2013 No.4100473 >>4100468 thanks

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 17:53:53 2013 No.4100482 As the sweet taste of fermented italian grapes tickled my lips and the smoke of my cigarette lingered in the air, I reclined on the soft velvet of my rather comfortable chair with memories of the days occurrences churning in the forefront of my head.

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 18:00:52 2013 No.4100510

>>4100240
>>4099082 here

Thank you for the encouragement. I do intend to carry on writing fiction, at the moment I'm just not very experienced. I have a few really bad short stories and the skeleton of a novel which feels more like a self indulgent self analysis than anything. I might be able to write a pretty sentence or two, but at the moment I just can't seem to write prose that is both aesthetically pleasing and purposeful; my characters and plots go nowhere, and I struggle to introduce change without it seeming like a contrivance.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 18:08:54 2013 No.4100534 I smiled at her. She fluttered her eyes at me. Was that a psycho-sexual signal or a side-effect of her medication? Both possibilities endeared her to me greatly. I can only hope she feels the same way about my spasmodic eye twitches.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 18:12:52 2013 No.4100546 riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 18:16:52 2013 No.4100556 >>4100546 A very promising start. I'd keep reading. Sort of sardonic comic subtext to a stream of consciousness thing. B+ atleast.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 18:19:53 2013 No.4100562 File: 19 KB, 422x410, image.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4100510 Keep on truckin', anon.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 18:21:53 2013 No.4100573 >>4100114 >>4100240 Thanks for the feedback. I knew it reminded me of something while typing it. Cryptomnesia's a bitch, ain't it? Thanks for the encouragement, anyhow.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 18:24:01 2013 No.4100580 >>4099511 Am I a terrible writer, /lit/?

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 18:27:00 2013 No.4100585 File: 22 KB, 345x369, image.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4099511 >ejaculated

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 18:27:00 2013 No.4100587 >>4100482 >>4100580 No but I am :/

Anonymous Mon Sep 9 19:53:47 2013 No.4100630

There was something about Arthur that Solomon never trusted. He was illusory man. He was part of the lowlands, a landmark in himself. Coincidentally it was just this time Arthur entered Solomon’s hotel room with a gun, left with one less round and faded away in the shimmering heat.

>>	Anonymous Mon Sep 9 20:16:48 2013 No.4100665 >>4100587 It's actually alright, but I don't like how you call wine "Fermented italian grapes". It just doesn't sound good. While it might be acceptable in some other cases, it is not here. Otherwise, pretty good.

Magician !poof3G2XZI Tue Sep 10 00:15:23 2013 No.4101194

Tom hated when his shirt got caught; it required more effort than he was willing to give before breakfast. His tab at the tailor’s was growing steadily larger, and the proprietor’s patience thinner. The gashes weren't going away, so he pulled another shirt off its hanger, this time in blue.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 05:17:42 2013 No.4101732 "Max, i was supposed to be the hero" "Lel russian scum die faggot i got my sequel coming soon, love rainy NY atmosphere :3" So little he knew, max was in for a big surprise.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 05:40:42 2013 No.4101758

He was awake, although it didn't feel like. Everything slow and distant, heavy air and white noise. Excitement bursted while the angry rhymes where dropped, presenting him with the liveliness waiting behind the curtains, yet he could never let go the serenity of the starry beats filling the atmosphere.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 05:45:43 2013 No.4101763 >>4101732 Are there books like max payne?

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 06:15:43 2013 No.4101802

The brochure on the passenger seat showed a family of three on a holiday beach. The man tanned, muscular, young, laughing. The woman, tanned, slim, in a sexless blue swimsuit, laughing. Their daughter held between them, laughing as the surf splashed against her legs.

They weren't a real family.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 06:20:42 2013 No.4101812 >>4101802 >tanned twice >laughing thrice >in 50 words Mix it up a little man. Reading it again I quite like your usage of laughing, it adds emphasis to the facade.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 06:33:41 2013 No.4101824

>>4101812
But the aim is to portray the false, posed, fake nature of the image. They are the same, the as each other and the same as the identikit families you see in every stock photo.

So while I would generally take the point re repetition, it's quite important here.

Anyway, thanks for the feedback, this is my fault for taking a piece out of the context of a story where the contrast with the rest of the prose is lost, rather than whipping up some spontaneous fifty word word fireworks display,

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 06:38:42 2013 No.4101832 >>4101824 Did you not read my spoilers? I realised why you had made that decision after reading it through two or three times. It works I guess.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 06:56:42 2013 No.4101853 >>4100462 really good at the local color and the sense o ominous dread. sort of campfire-tale-ish

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 07:04:41 2013 No.4101866 >>4097872 !!!!!

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 07:07:42 2013 No.4101872

Through the fields of scars and wounds
Shining with dim light of non-existence

What tranquility! What sweet peace! What inward serenity!
What supreme felicity and earnest of bliss!
To reach beyond the web of spiritual deceit
That mankind has been weaving for millennia
And face the most horrible truth of all

Every single dream shattered, trampled and lost
Every single word silenced for ever, and evermore

Descent, regress into prime, hideous, beautiful nothingness

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 07:17:43 2013 No.4101880 [DELETED]

Eveningtime, he rests: stomachdown, still. Murmurs a song learned him in youth: "what’s the surprise you’ve got for me to-day, Lord? what have you got in store for meeeee, to-day?" Guitar strings, & flute: a woman, gluey-lipped. Him licks his lips, recalling those, stirring in his grown body an adolescent’s erection.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 07:22:54 2013 No.4101890

The streets are stained. An unkempt wilderness – it feeds on itself, growing without restraint. Muggers rob the drunks. Prostitutes make love to the lonesome, while paying pushers for the drugs they cannot live without. Bonds of desire move like cogs, locking one another in perpetual motion.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 07:39:43 2013 No.4101905 I LEIK PANCAKES

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 07:41:42 2013 No.4101907 shit shit hubba hubba fat tits motha fucka

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 07:41:42 2013 No.4101909 >>4101763 Yes. Basically every hard-boiled detective story ever.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 08:04:42 2013 No.4101920

It grew firmer, stronger and harder as it advanced farther penetrating its goal with ungodly force leading the surrounding to become red, and it only grew darker as he penetrated harder. The condemned resisted while aiming high for divine intervention as she cried her unheard verses, but the light was fading and she could see no more; only godless pain.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 08:07:42 2013 No.4101923 >>4101909 Not him but can you recommend? I want muh grimdark noir detective.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 08:34:42 2013 No.4101951

He withdrew the cigarette from his lips and tapped it firmly, watching the ash fall at his feet to mingle with the ingrained dirt of the pavement. Chewing-gum-measled or shit-smeared, vomit-stained or rubber-burned, flint-scarred, see-sawing or just cracked - every slab had its own problem.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 09:34:43 2013 No.4102014

>>4101923
Mickey Spillane is probably your go-to author on this. Earlier examples like Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler, too. If you fancy something a little bit more "intellectual," Paul Auster's New York Trilogy is a fascinating riff on the classic American detective story.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 10:17:52 2013 No.4102109

a snippet of something i wrote along the way

"Close," the girl giggled, "but no. I'm a lyricist."
"So you're in some kind of band? Wow." The Artist reached for his black coffee.
“No, actually. I write poetry.”
“That makes you a poet then.”
“Obviously you haven’t seen my work, Artist. I make words sound as beautiful as if they’re being sung.”
“That doesn't mean you can just call yourself a lyricist.”
“Try and stop me.” The Lyricist rose from her stool. The Artist returned her smile with a nod as he stirred his sugarless, black coffee.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 10:25:51 2013 No.4102136 >>4102109 why would you stir sugarless coffee?

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 10:29:51 2013 No.4102146 File: 50 KB, 500x375, 1376863033720.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4102136 wouldn't you? the girl had chamomile tea by the way. the drinks are supposed to symbolize their characters very very rough draft

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 10:32:52 2013 No.4102155

>>4102109
>I make words sound as beautiful as if they’re being sung.
You should make it so there's some cups, saucers and glasses left over from the previous people who were at the table, including an empty cocktail glass with some coloured flags. Green, blue, red. "The Artist" can be fiddling with them as they talk. Then, when she says that bit above, he can pick up the red flag.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 10:35:53 2013 No.4102160 >>4102155 Heh, very nice. I understood that I needed to make the dialogue flow smoother. Thanks for the idea.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 10:43:53 2013 No.4102175 >>4102109 > the girl giggled is she retarded? >I'm a lyricist. >So you're in some kind of band? Wow is he retarded? >Try and stop me are you retarded? This is absolute trash from beginning to end.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 10:45:52 2013 No.4102182 >>4102175 what should be done then?

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 10:51:56 2013 No.4102197 >>4102146 i wouldn't

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 11:04:56 2013 No.4102214 [DELETED]

Both that which is outgoing and that which is incoming, by which I mean certain textures of light but also other things, that it is all together to flesh-out (so to speak) a form, does not mean what you might say it means. This is something everyone knew at one point. But to say it is to diminish it.

Sometimes I go to this corner deli down and across the east-west street and look around for a few minutes before leaving without having bought anything, at which point I return the way I came, across and down the east-west street to my house. The weather does not matter much.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 11:34:55 2013 No.4102272 [DELETED]

File: 102 KB, 684x584, Vegetative, Amimal, and Cultural Semiosis.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

>>4097840
The willow is a sort of chandelier out in the middle of a field of dying grass. Kathleen Marie Gallaner (KMG) brings the truck to rest beneath it, the tree, this tree being positioned half-way between two buildings, one of which is her house, the other, an out-shed. Both buildings are a similar shade of sage green, though the house more recently so.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 11:38:54 2013 No.4102276

"Bite the green apple!" commanded my queen.
What I heard was to delve my poor, sensitive teeth into this abomination of mother nature. So I did. The shell was the sweetest, the center ridiculously sour.
She laughed at the way my face had twisted before I swallowed the candy and joined her on the couch.
I will do whatever she says. She is my queen. God, I have to stop her!

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 11:46:17 2013 No.4102287 Sitting on the toilet, dumba dumba dum! sitting on the toilet, a-dum-a-dum-a-dum! Shit! Flush, Hulk, smash! Ohno, Igotarash! I'm going out later to take out the trash! Someone must have written this on my plaster cast last night. Where the fuck was I?

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 11:49:15 2013 No.4102292
File: 100 KB, 500x371, tumblr_moz7utnyhJ1s9dgnwo1_500.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

Helmet blazen winter sun, tripping up stones to the death march violent sickness in the heat of bullets hitting the pale sighted the enemy click right between the eyes remember his family give him respite no future lay down in winter sun breathe until unconscious let this sight pass

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 11:49:15 2013 No.4102294 >>4102276 shit of a tryhard underages (probably) homosex

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 11:51:15 2013 No.4102296 Cellar door

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 11:51:15 2013 No.4102297 >>4102287 10/10 whoever wrote it on you is a fucking genius.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 14:07:17 2013 No.4102628

See the boy. He is pale and thin, he wears a thin and ragged linen shirt. He repairs the speeder. Outside lies the desert and the two moons and beyond them the stars. His folks are known for farmers but he hopes for something greater. He watches the stars and wishes himself among them.

Mccarthy does Star Wars

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 14:24:10 2013 No.4102665 >>4100665 Thank you, I didn't want to just say wine, so I tried to be a bit more imaginative about it.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 14:39:07 2013 No.4102694 When I was young and unused to this world I made a great number of decisions that, remembered daily, lash upon my ego anew; and when I looked in her eyes I knew I should be here; now; but I felt instead tied infinitely to the whip-man's block.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 16:20:03 2013 No.4102957 >>4100451 Anybody?

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 16:43:49 2013 No.4103010

Parts of you died today. All your cells replace themselves only with older versions until everything dies. Even now, parts of your eyes are keeling over into the rest of your dead skin. I’m sitting here, thinking of you, my brain cells remembering you to their inheritors and getting older.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 16:44:49 2013 No.4103016 >>4097859 continue

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 16:50:36 2013 No.4103029 >>4102694 this is dope

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 16:57:37 2013 No.4103051 File: 732 KB, 304x224, colbert.gif [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4100451 >>4102957 >Nay! also, i have no idea what you're describing

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 16:58:36 2013 No.4103059 >>4103010 Brain cells don't remember stuff

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:03:36 2013 No.4103081 >>4102694 This would be a great line if it were written even within a century of the last time someone spotted a whip-man or his block.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:15:36 2013 No.4103126
File: 790 KB, 1680x1050, rain.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

The scent of petrichor hung thick in the air. I sat crosslegged, back against the inside of my tent, enjoying the sounds of pattering all around me, like the steady rumble of the ocean. I bathed in the precious glow of natural hues that surrounded me, the very glow that always comes with the rain, sipping deeply into the warm mug clasped in my palms. The aches and pains of my feet melted into placidity, my thoughts dulled, and I was left alone with nature.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:18:37 2013 No.4103141 >>4103059 >Doesn't know what an engram is.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:24:54 2013 No.4103156 >>4103141 >doesn't know who his audience is

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:25:54 2013 No.4103163 >>4103126 too many adjectives. You're a homo

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:27:54 2013 No.4103171 >>4103163 >doesnt like description you're a skeeze

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:29:54 2013 No.4103175
File: 52 KB, 290x201, 25.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

I tasted the pussy. It was so delicious, like a peach. No, more like a nectarine--slightly sour. Then, I cut it off with a paring knife. She didn't move due to the drugs. Once they were removed, I put them in the ziplock with the lemon marinade. Dinner for tomorrow!

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:29:54 2013 No.4103180 File: 92 KB, 371x450, Mark_Twain_2.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4103171 and you're a pleb

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:39:54 2013 No.4103211
File: 32 KB, 310x310, 3tw7q7.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

One evening, when the calendar said October but the air was thick and sundering with fireworks, I spent a long time thinking about failure. And when the empty bottle chinked against other empty bottles, and pushed outward against yet more empty bottles, I realized failure to be a collectivist’s game, and toasted the world that chinked with me.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:43:03 2013 No.4103226 >>4103126 >Petrichor *tips fedora I also watch le Doctor Who

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:52:03 2013 No.4103256
File: 24 KB, 396x360, 1368708007530.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

"Help!" she cried. The ziplock bag closed around her head didn't help. His punches to her abdomen didn't help either. Then the knife came, first between her legs, moving slowly up her midsection, then breaking each rib, arriving at her throat. By then, she was dead and the fucking began.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:53:03 2013 No.4103262 >>4103126 The "scent of petrichor" is redundant.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:55:03 2013 No.4103266 File: 486 KB, 238x155, eyeroll.gif [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4103256

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:56:03 2013 No.4103268 >>4103266 AHAHAHAHAHA

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:58:03 2013 No.4103276
File: 116 KB, 480x360, 43.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

The little girls were gathered in the corner. Slowly, one by one, he shot them. Little Suzie, with her curls in pigtails was first. Our man sad, "Do you want your mommy?" Little Suzie cried yes. He put the gun to her head and shot her dead. The children cried.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 17:59:03 2013 No.4103279

>>4103256
"Help!" she cried. The ziplock bag closed around her head didn't help. His punches to her abdomen didn't help either. Then the knife came, and that really didn't help. First between her legs, moving slowly up her midsection, then breaking each rib, arriving at her throat. As it moved up her body, she was thinking about how little this knife was helping her. By the time it got to her throat, there was no chance of getting help.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 18:00:03 2013 No.4103281 >>4103256 careful with those edges, son.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 18:02:50 2013 No.4103286
File: 17 KB, 254x191, 7.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

His penis wasn't quite long enough. In order to add inches, he cut it down the middle, width-wize. Then, with the penises he'd gathered earlier from the morgue, he removed the ones that matched his skintone. It was basically like adding legos to the center of his cock. You dig?

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 18:03:50 2013 No.4103290

"There's a snake in my boot!"

That tinny sound echoed through my mind while I distractedly typed out fifty words onto the library Dell; a plaid-scarved cowboy eyeing me from below.

"Anime Parody Sex Toys," read the advertisment.

I wondered, should I buy one, if I would be able to ejaculate ironically.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 18:05:50 2013 No.4103296 It's only a spider. Don't be a pussy you pathetic faggot.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 18:06:50 2013 No.4103297
File: 17 KB, 400x388, 1363935122740.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

As his anus bled, he watched his choo-choo train going around its tracks underneath the brightly-lit Christmas tree. Holidays would never be the same again. Little Bobby was only two, but now, introduced to the adult world through anal sex, his world was shattered. His dad said, "Merry Christmas, Bobby."

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 18:07:40 2013 No.4103301 >>4103262 No, because it's Miley Cyrus' new fragrance's name.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 18:28:00 2013 No.4103351 >>4103290 >if I would be able to ejaculate ironically 10/10, very little sarcasm here.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 19:37:52 2013 No.4103513 >>4103286 I laughed. I'm not sure if I should have.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 19:44:50 2013 No.4103522 >>4099082 this is still the best one up your game, bros

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 19:49:52 2013 No.4103531 >>4103522 >religion >best Where am I?

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 19:49:52 2013 No.4103534 File: 91 KB, 600x600, 600px-Awesome.png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4103513 I WIN!

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 19:51:51 2013 No.4103538 >>4103286 Is that you, Tommy?

SALTYBET Tue Sep 10 19:56:51 2013 No.4103544

Outwardly the average man looked the definition of average. He wore a plain grey suit and a plainer, greyer hat. His strides appeared calculated as he moved with purpose towards me in the busy city street. As he walked past me he wondered if I existed. I thought nothing of it.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 19:57:51 2013 No.4103548 >>4103544 I like it!

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 20:10:51 2013 No.4103578 >>4101920 Someone please tell me if I am terrible. Sorry for the edges, I have issues.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 20:17:51 2013 No.4103597

Town Dog was digging for field mice. Crope would have liked to carry on walking until midday, but a mouse was a mouse, and he wasn?t in any position to turn down food. The little dog dug furiously, kicking up dirt. Crope could tell when she found the first mouse, for Town Dog had a special noise that she made, like the squeaking of a bat. It wasn?t a very doggy noise, but then Town Dog wasn?t a very doggy dog.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 20:30:53 2013 No.4103637 File: 68 KB, 464x807, 1378800759792.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4097840 Same girl? Her ass is my prose.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 20:38:52 2013 No.4103662

The sleep-addled man roused from his bed with a disgruntled expression on his face, the illumination from the nightstand blindingly bright against his eyes. He spared no hesitation in making his annoyance known by assailing the uninvited guest, who so rudely interrupted his brief period of respite, with a tempest of vulgarities which would make the Devil himself blush in shame.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 20:44:51 2013 No.4103681
File: 6 KB, 225x225, 5.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

I watched her eat the apple. She didn't know I injected it with my cum with a syringe. I thought maybe a whore of her nature would be able to recognize the taste. Although I have AIDS, I knew it would not transmit; I hope my herpes or HPV will.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 21:17:00 2013 No.4103775

With winsome white winged women we walked widely, wandering wherever we wished without weariness. While we went we wrote wonderful welcoming works. Well written, wholesome, with worrisome words withheld. Weaving wisdom within witticisms which would warn wild, weak-willed waifs. Wanton whores who we would watch willfully wrecks whole worlds.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 21:19:59 2013 No.4103785 >>4103775 >wholesome Take that it, and make the sentence less purple and it would be top-notch.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 21:22:00 2013 No.4103792 >>4103775 W is the stupidest letter

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 21:34:00 2013 No.4103811 >>4103792 It's a double U.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 21:35:00 2013 No.4103814 >>4103785 You type like a drunk Irishman.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 21:36:00 2013 No.4103815 >>4103811 U are stupid, too.

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 21:38:00 2013 No.4103820

Mary had a little lamb. The little lamb's fleece was as white as snow. The kind of snow that fell of the body of Phillipe in the hills of Spain when he followed his brother to fight against the fascists. Everywhere that Mary went the lamb was sure to follow. It haunted Mary that the lamb would follow her like Phillipe followed his brother. The lamb with a fleece like the snow of the dead followed her. Or did she follow it? And the snow of the dead would soon fall on her, like it fell on Phillipe.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 21:50:00 2013 No.4103851 >>4103126 i liked this

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 22:10:00 2013 No.4103884

pasted from an essay I finished today:

During the course of this project, I will also attempt to further my knowledge of a related subject in which I am interested through research; the details pertaining to the transition between the Baroque and Classical periods, perhaps including the reasons for the stylistic changes generally in favor of relative simplicity which characterize the Classical period, interest me considerably.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 22:11:00 2013 No.4103887 >>4103884 >prose

Anonymous Tue Sep 10 22:12:01 2013 No.4103890

The morning of realization begins with my spit cascading from my second story window onto the ground below. With its mighty splat I realize that a woman such as you Anon deserves more than I could offer. The summer wind blows cold as I realize my epiphany is beyond sincerity. A sarrow voice whispers, "you will never love again,". What absurdity, for as long as I live, I love.

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 23:08:12 2013 No.4104033 >>4097840 HER LEG LOOKS LIKE A DICK

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 23:34:56 2013 No.4104096 >>4102136 Sometimes I do. I generally have a spoon for whatever reason, so as something for my fingers to fiddle with I'll stir my black, sugarless coffee

>>	Anonymous Tue Sep 10 23:51:58 2013 No.4104134 I tell my four year-old son many lies. The tooth fairy only comes if you brush your teeth. When nobody is looking, I can turn invisible. Horse flies are just tiny horses with wings. I will always be here.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:01:59 2013 No.4104166 >>4104096 >black sugarless coffee redundant. Isn't all black coffee sugarless?

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:03:29 2013 No.4104175 >>4100114 >asyndeton Where?

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:15:28 2013 No.4104214

>>4102182
Pay no attention to the raging neck beard behind his curtain of a computer screen. He's reading with a biased to lift himself up.

Anyway, the stirring black coffee needs to go.

This is a rough excerpt of a short story I imagine? If you want tips, make sure these characters are not flat, especially if one of them goes around identifying herself as a "lyricist."

Can't interpret much more from it since you didn't adopt an idea commonly found in epics. It's coffee. Your style was appropriate.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:21:27 2013 No.4104233 The path is through the woods and the snow is falling and the stars are faded because that’s the way it is. And the people are watching from their yards and the windows are bright but I’m there alone and the way isn’t so clear but I keep heading on.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:36:14 2013 No.4104293 >>4104233 >all those ands >all those buts >no commas that second sentence sounds like the nervous rambling of a schizophrenic

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:37:14 2013 No.4104296 >>4104166 no?

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:42:15 2013 No.4104316 When she reached up far, the stool on the chair wobbled. The stool was sitting up on the center of the seat, and since the seat was flat she figured it'd be okay. But every time she reached up far, it would start wobbling.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:43:15 2013 No.4104320 >>4104296 yes, it is. That's why when you order a black coffee, the don't put anything in it.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:44:13 2013 No.4104324 She was going to start college soon and did not know what to study and I said well then study anything. Art was what she liked and I said well study art then. The moon was hanging between the bell tower of the church and the side of the building

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 00:51:15 2013 No.4104350

"The reason -why-," he was saying, "is because it's -my- goddamn property and not -yours-."

"Hey, look," the kid replied, "look, what the hell's'it'matter what I do here and who I do it with."

"You can do whatever the hell ya want when you're not on -my- land, but I'll be damned if you're gonna bring some goddamned indian onto my property."

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 01:26:32 2013 No.4104467 >>4104166 what would be a better way to describe it, compared to the 'easier' chamomile tea?

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 01:29:33 2013 No.4104474 >>4104214 >stirring black coffee i was trying to say that he's just fiddling with things but i couldn't come up with something better

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 01:33:34 2013 No.4104485 >>4104474 you could add the word "needlessly" to make it clearer that he's not necessarily accomplishing something by stirring black coffee

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 01:35:32 2013 No.4104488

>>4104485
adding needlessly is redundant, any non-retarded reader can tell stirring black coffee is needless...but does the coffee have to be sugarless black for a reason? maybe say the coffee started dribbling over after one to many strokes, like he was stirring the shit too hard without paying attention

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 01:39:32 2013 No.4104497 >>4104350 Absolutely -disgusting-

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 03:02:15 2013 No.4104648 >>4104488 It shows intent. It acknowledges that the author understands that it's pointless without the reader drawing the conclusion of sloppy writing. I can't believe this drew a discussion. Either take it out or change it to a double double.

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 07:01:26 2013 No.4104925

>>4104214
Now, now. Why jump to conclusions?

There is an amount of good content in this thread and the passage in question was not of it - so at worst my admittedly harsh words were a reaction to the undue attention it received.

But Re my original comment and yours: a) fuck the coffee, the coffee is irrelevant - there are serious matters of stupidity here:

Why is the girl giggling? From the excerpt we can assume she has been asked if she's a poet or similar. Why on earth would this make someone giggle - unless they were some absolutely vacuous valley girl who simply giggles at every question - and we have to assume, as she is a "Lyricist", this is not the case.

Why does the Artist assume she's in a band? She said she's a lyricist. Everyone knows what a lyricist does, they write lyrics. That's it. No one who is a singer, a singer/songwriter, a band member who also writes lyrics, or anything similar - would ever self-identify as a lyricist rather than the above. So by the very use of that term she has made it clear she is not in a band.

Of course this is all then thrown away. Now she says she writes poetry. Lyricist is just some deranged term she uses to describe the way her poetry makes her think her words sound. Except that's still poetry. The Artist is right. a Lyricist is a job. Just calling yourself a Lyricist is meaningless. "I'm not a painter, I'm a Decorator! I decorate the walls of the mind with my images!" Please God no.

>“That doesn't mean you can just call yourself a lyricist.”
>"try and stop me"

Perhaps the intent of this exchange is to make the "Lyricist/Poet" a kind of ballsy independent thinker/woman. Obviously that is misguided, because she just sounds like a massive self-delusional pretentious tool who cares more about her job definition than her art.

I assume this exchange is supposed to have a flirtatious, snappy quality like some cute snippet in a Frasier episode or a hipsterish rom-com or something. But the substance is a couple of retards gabbling nonsense.

For all I know you might even be a decent writer, but the foundation of this excerpt is just poor dialogue and a confused scenario.

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 09:52:53 2013 No.4105182

>>4100510
My advice is to not worry about creating "pretty sentences" when you're writing. That can come later, and worrying about it now will only slow you down. Craft the overall form before chiseling in the details. And when you do eventually reach the stage of editing, don't be afraid to cut out your beloved sentences if they just don't fit.

I highly recommend picking up Roy Peter Clark's "Writing Tools" to help you develop your prose. It's helped me a ton since I've read it, especially by pointing out awful habits of mine that I didn't even know existed.

Bell's "Plot and Structure" and Card's "Character's and Viewpoint" might help you as well with your characters and plot.

See what you can do with the reply you typed me. I'm assuming you typed it freely without the relationship between the words in mind, so go back now and reshape it.

For example, "prose that is both aesthetically pleasing and purposeful" can become "pleasing and purposeful prose."

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 10:36:26 2013 No.4105261 >>4097871 motherfucking pepsi twist, forgot about that shit

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 10:38:26 2013 No.4105267 >>4097993 i digs on this hard

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 11:02:44 2013 No.4105313 With thoughts of death, Ismael closed his eyes and tilted his head back for the last time. For the first time, his mind was blank.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 11:17:19 2013 No.4105358 File: 159 KB, 1240x1754, Accordion-page-001.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4103016 An anon wrote it a while back. Saved it on my /lit/ folder

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 11:19:17 2013 No.4105363 File: 150 KB, 1240x1754, Accordion-page-002.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4105358

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 11:20:17 2013 No.4105365 File: 201 KB, 1240x1754, Accordion-page-003.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4105363

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 11:20:18 2013 No.4105367 File: 81 KB, 1240x1754, Accordion-page-004.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4105365

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 11:21:18 2013 No.4105375 >>4105363 >Another quick yank I hope that was deliberate

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 11:23:17 2013 No.4105380 "Fuck Tubular Bells...1973 and I was dead - yes I was!" There's the wa-da-da.daiko geisha girl with here drum behind my right eye. "Turn it off..."

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 11:36:16 2013 No.4105410 >>4105375 No I just misread it. I thought the other guy was an American. That would've been a nice little touch.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 12:06:17 2013 No.4105477 >>4103637 dat prose captcha: and assemall

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 13:37:45 2013 No.4105619 You could only hear the piercing cold out in the forest this time of year. When you looked above the ash-colored sky contained the clouds in a dispersed suspension. Out in the horizon it seemed as if they crumbled towards the ground as powdered snow.

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 13:56:44 2013 No.4105641

She chewed her lip, trying hard to hold back the tears of disappointment welling in her eyes.

"How long is a short break, anyway?" She sniffled and took a deep breathe, in and out. He could see how upset she was, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Forever."

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 13:59:45 2013 No.4105646
File: 410 KB, 1400x1009, godzilla1954c.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

Clamp, twist, turn, close, repeat. During those long lulls of white daylight, monotony bleeds so profusely that every fraction's of an angle's difference among the conveyer belt of clone quality camera lenses stands out more than Shaquille O'neal in Tokyo. Standing day in, day out, entrenched in mechanized uniformity sends panic to my hairs. It flaunts the memories of unrelenting chaos brought on by the great Gojira in front of my mind's eye. The clips of destruction are excruciating to recall: schools of people running like ants in a school yard, cloud-scrapers tumble like twigs, suffering triumphs for the dead, but more-so for those who bury.

Clamp, twist, turn, close, repeat.

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 14:12:45 2013 No.4105670
File: 50 KB, 228x280, alallaala.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

Burnt effigies of neighbors, jurors, lovers, killers alike stay stuck to the ground as though cement stormed down from the skies in typhoon-like fashion. Though the heavens produce no materials for building, only ashes and dust rustled up from the earth's charred back, blistering with muffled screams. With time's relevance gone, those of us left only have each other to kill. Desolate landscapes have acquired a godly quality of omnipresence, making the world's last mirror reflect nothing into nothingness, simply waiting for a soul to finally meet a pair of eyes not entirely desiring of confrontation, murder. But still some.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 14:15:46 2013 No.4105677 "In this moment, I am euphoric. Not because of some phony God's blessing. But because, I am enlightened by my intelligence."

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 14:20:45 2013 No.4105689 Apoptosis: programmed cell destruction. I really fucking wish this wouldn't make me want to kill myself.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 14:27:03 2013 No.4105700 Over and over again, I grow up. And every time, I think, yeah. This is adulthood. But every time, I am wrong. I am still just a child.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 14:45:03 2013 No.4105722 >>4105677 10/10 But I know you stole it.

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 14:48:03 2013 No.4105726

The crypt smelled like death. Not the dusty, bitter smell of an undisturbed tomb, but the sour, ghastly stench of a fresh corpse split by a sword from navel to sternum. Dur took a tentative step forward, craning his head to see further down the weathered stone steps.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 15:31:22 2013 No.4105811 >>4105646 >>4105670 way too convoluted and dull, trying too hard

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 15:36:23 2013 No.4105823 File: 105 KB, 500x370, 1378574953761.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4099082 >>4099106 Good shit.

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 15:45:22 2013 No.4105842

after the eagles had their fill the sun bleached the bones. Bronze armor serves as a new skeleton as the fallen kaiser loses it's form. The vines creep through the hands and down the spine. Krakens dragging the fallen vessel to the worm depths, where his tales will be told in the green leaves of spring along with those of countless other argonauts and volsungs.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 15:51:21 2013 No.4105854 File: 32 KB, 613x533, 171[1].jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4105842

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 16:27:22 2013 No.4105954 >>4105854 what dat mean

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 16:39:22 2013 No.4105987 >>4105954 way too much ambiguity and awkward diction/structuring also >it's

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 16:58:56 2013 No.4106018
File: 1.09 MB, 234x154, 1377014549986.gif [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

His face was getting blood-red and his forced smiled appeared peculiar to the audience as he oozed ungodly sweat forcing his hair to wet and cover his frightened eyes. He tried to straighten his clumsy body, but he, instead, tapped firmly on the floor a soldier's salute and declared: "I wish I had a rubber chin."

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 23:00:45 2013 No.4106901 On the verge of falling; the verge of flying. So we are thrust into tomorrow. There's no need for delicate shelterings, there's no need for mumured reassurancings. There may no longer be gravity, but this is certain: we are not drifting.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 23:09:45 2013 No.4106929 >>4103276 Write dark and sexy fanfiction, pls.

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 23:11:45 2013 No.4106934

As I slept in the corner of the store, the lips of my eyes opened slowly and solely to swallow the rays of light, which projected the letters C-L-A-R-I-S-S-A, already dashing toward me. Those eight letters burrowed their way down my eye’s esophagus (which led to brain) and came upon it’s final resting place, where it would remain for the coming month.

>>	Anonymous Wed Sep 11 23:14:49 2013 No.4106939 >>4099691 Elegant and to the point!

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 23:38:46 2013 No.4106997

She gyrated her ass on the worn grain of old sheets. It was 11:30 in the morning. The dissapointing tingles she felt clustered in her ass-cheeks were, she thought to herself, a situation to be sized upon, an opportunity.
"I must use this tingles for the betterment of mankind." With this thought firmly planted in mind, she felt a dam break inside. Guilt that was once deeply supressed came rushing to the surface; while anger--always on standby--immediately began bringing to a boil that torrent of virginal awareness. She was fading, cloning herself into a thousand universes in each atom of moist steam.
"Soon" she thought "I will be with you."

Anonymous Wed Sep 11 23:46:48 2013 No.4107018

Jiro's wife strapped the planked armor around him, weaving the laces together. A skill she acquired from selling Kimono’s. When she finished, she presented the scabbard Katana, and when Jiro wore it the fear of death had gone. Jiro’s bride would never present a sword again, not to any man.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:01:50 2013 No.4107057 >>4106997 Made for an interesting piece read over dinner. I say, well done.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:04:50 2013 No.4107062 >>4097885 ugh.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:10:52 2013 No.4107071 >>4106929 Thank you for your support!

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:11:52 2013 No.4107072 Don Dandy did dance diligently. Daily, Don did dance. "Delightful!" delivered Danielle Dumper, Don's dearest dance-director. "Dank dou, da'am" daid Don, dleased do dinally det dome deedback. Done.

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:11:52 2013 No.4107073

Franklin, you are young. I will explain compassion to you. Compassion is that tendril of sadness that wraps around ones soul at the exact moment of indulging into another's despair. In an instant, feeling their pain, understanding it and wishing to be active against it. Raging in opposition. It equates an injustice upon you.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:15:51 2013 No.4107078 >>4107073 Young Franklin shook his head, confused out of his fucking mind.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:22:24 2013 No.4107093 >>4107073 I like this, actually. Nice work.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:23:24 2013 No.4107094 >>4105700 i like that

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:23:24 2013 No.4107095 >>4107057 Thanks kind sir, glad to entertain.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 00:45:26 2013 No.4107126 >>4107078 Lol, it's from the most complex novel of ridiculousness I have ever conspired upon. You have every right to feel this. >>4107093 Thanks.

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 01:18:43 2013 No.4107188

>>4105700
I like this!

I'll make one with my captcha: "munitza was"

Munitza was a captor for the Estate. She did not ask and did not question where the souls were taken, or why they so desperately tried to escape her. Or, at least she tried not to, but that was already questioning in itself.

reCaptch: 1st tableog xP

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 01:29:43 2013 No.4107216

It’s only just begun and it’s all your fault. You're sick man, disturbed even. This must be some kind of fetish you have, why else would you enjoy this? You must love being humiliated. God, I need a beer, a cigarette, anything.

this thing still alive? probably not

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 01:37:14 2013 No.4107227

Words fell from her mouth like pouring water; They dribbled across the table, staining the bottom of my cup and the cuff of my jacket. I sighed dreamily to myself, before awoken by a quick jerk- I was dozing off without my morning coffee. Now, as my eyes returned to her, there were no words spilling from her lips. Only vicarious drooling as her eyes went misty with thought. I must have mistaken the two.

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 01:40:16 2013 No.4107235
File: 49 KB, 492x323, jco13.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

I shat in my own mouth. Most glorify the ability to perform self-fellatio. Not me. I had bigger aspirations in mind. Once I reached that puckering hole, my mouth was filled with that warm mush, greater than chocolate.

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 11:42:47 2013 No.4107928
File: 39 KB, 630x475, 2686969.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]

Jesus spoke to me. He said, "Son, do not behold me. I do not exist. Read the poetry I inspired as well as the poetry I did not. Be well. Be sick. I don't care. I'm off to go fuck a unicorn. Bye." Then he disappeared.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 17:57:05 2013 No.4108552 Hey, wtf, is that? "Lawl" is that semi-colon, or ? Meaning, is the in-and-make- or, ? Are book?

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:03:06 2013 No.4108563 There are few things I despise more about myself than my inability to crack my knuckles more than once. Then I remember I'm going to die alone, and things don't seem so bad.

Mutemattics !!58hTUK7XbfZ Thu Sep 12 18:11:06 2013 No.4108577

Sucking cocks was never an option.
Unless it was a Tuesday, then it was all about cocks.
He became a cock in the end and he was eaten by people that were only remotely hungry.
After emerging in pieces and feces from tight anuses he realized it wasn't a good idea.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:13:06 2013 No.4108583 >>4108577

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:14:05 2013 No.4108585

>>4108577
Being gay was never an option. He committed suicide right then and there. His mother, upon finding his crumpled, blood-let body, immediately killed herself as well. Then dad came in, and fucked their corpses. There was never a happier father, husband, provider. They had finally earned their keep.

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:15:05 2013 No.4108587

>>4103297
The boy had gotten a choo-choo train for Christmas. It was neat! Round and round it’d go, chooing along and being so cheery! But when he was unwrapping another gift, he fell over and his trousers got tangled with his knees. Rip! Ram! The carriage plunged right in.

>>	Mutemattics !!58hTUK7XbfZ Thu Sep 12 18:19:05 2013 No.4108597 >>4108585 For a moment i thought you'd convert my allegory to it's literal articulate version. A pleasing outcome nonetheless.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:21:07 2013 No.4108604 File: 377 KB, 500x492, Nobel_Prize[1].png [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] >>4108585

X Thu Sep 12 18:25:09 2013 No.4108618

The window keeps getting smaller. Sometimes I peak outside using a broken kaleidoscope and watch the world pass by. I've learned to identify the symmetrical rainbow of silhouettes and sometimes I can see friends; at least they are friends until they turn blue. No matter how hard I try to get up the window just keeps getting smaller.

C&C greatly appreciated, I'm very new to all of this. It's about someone who is bed ridden and is going blind.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:30:07 2013 No.4108627 Explosion is kill.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:31:07 2013 No.4108628 >>4108627 DFW pls go back to graveyard.

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:33:06 2013 No.4108632

Daniel lazily chucked box after uniform box of Oreo cookies on the shelf. His mind began to wander, he started to think of Jess, what she would be doing if she were still... "EXCUSE ME!" The shrill voice of a middle aged woman, oozing entitlement and pretentiousness, no doubt about to complain.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:33:06 2013 No.4108636 >>4108632 ARGH SO MANY COMMAS! Ok so it needs revision, but w/e

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:36:06 2013 No.4108643 I'm sorry I never found the door I searched for, one which might stand upon the contours of both my lonesome world and the one of beauty that I always saw reflected in your irises. For you and I, we lived in different worlds.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:42:06 2013 No.4108663 >>4108636 After the euphoria of writing completion, it is discipline you need to re-read and listen to your voice, again, to perfect it.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 18:44:47 2013 No.4108667 >>4108628 I have a pic of me pooing on his grave. Would you like to see?

Anonymous Thu Sep 12 19:33:49 2013 No.4108774

Dicks, dicks dicks dicks dicks. Dicks dicks, dicks, dicks dicks dicks. Dicks dicks dicks dicks dicks dicks; dicks, dicks dicks. Dicks, dicks dicks dicks, dicks dicks dicks dicks. Dicks dicks dicks. Dicks dicks dicks dicks dicks dicks, dicks dicks dicks dicks.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 19:35:51 2013 No.4108779 >>4108774 /thread

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 19:35:51 2013 No.4108781 >>4107073 >>4106901 >>4104134 >>4103126 >>4101802 >>4099646 >>4108643 >>4099082 >>4098237 >>4097881 I read the entire thread for some godawful reason. These ones were decent.

>>	Anonymous Thu Sep 12 19:53:41 2013 No.4108815 >>4108781 Damn, you didn't pick any of mine. I respect that.

>>	Anonymous Fri Sep 13 01:01:24 2013 No.4109720 faggots on /lit/ actually writing stuff...god damn. this needs to be archived!

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/lit/ - Literature