Critique

>>8983757
theres already a thread you fucking faggot

>>8983766

two threads in fact

Two bottles laid cracked by and under Pitt's head.

>>8983766
5/10
>>8983768
2/10

>>8983777
praise Kek

Out the porthole swam a sky of mixed azure and charcoal stretching up from the silhouettes of the island's rocky beachhead.

Monday, February 29th 2100.

>>8983822
Yikes, unprecedented

>>8983757
Go fuck yourself, anon.

Drip.

He farted hard, and so he did.

Yo, your narrator here. I'ma be taken you on a fucking rollercoaster of a ride so you besta buckle yo seat, and strap yo retard helmet on and make sure yo momma who's reading this to you gotta a cup of coffee cause you ain't gonna wanna sleep until this shit is over. You ready? Alright here we go. Three. Two. One.

Today, through a reflection in an eyeglass on the table adjacent ours, I saw a man die: sucked up under an inattentive towncar ferrying powerlunching stockbrokers back between Houston and Broad.

>>8983757
It was the first day of my real life, it also was the last of february.

>>8983822
The haughty prose is uncomfortable to read. Not very grabbing. 3/10

>>8983838
Gay 2/10

>>8984006
5/10, 5/10

>>8984041
4/10 Edit that shit at least. Also,
>first sentence

>>8984101
6.25/10, quite a mouthful

>>8984270
Get on with it. 2/10

Finally, I can see professor Bloom across the quad. Loudly I scream, "GUESS NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME TO STRETCH MY LEGS!".

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>>8983757
Her pee pee went around his pee pee, hers was wet and warm but his was cold like ice but not anymore because they were inside each other, her ass now inside his cock.

Aw shit, the landlord's got his dick out again.

>>8983757
There was nothing else left for us to do.

On hands and knees up and down the grim and beautiful coast of Montauk, he sifted the salt and pepper sand for a carcass of jewelry--hearing something being trumpeted awfully back a few, the whine of broken backed lobsters, a soundtrack of screaming flirtatious girls picked up by their fleeting lovers.

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If waking up at 3pm every day without regret were an art, then Jasper Holiday was a first rate forger at the height of his career in his prime of sleeping technique, wasting no stroke, whether he was painting the day away by reading comics or jerking it to his non-existent younger sister.

>>8984379
0/10 generic as all fuck.

CRASH!

>>8984393
"Height of his career" and "in his prime" are redundant, pick one.
Otherwise, I liked it and would keep reading.

>>8984041
this is dank

In the he died as he lived, aroused and upset.

>>8983757
[.]

At dusk, Kevin shifted gears and up we went into the mountains, watching the kudzu laden trees and distant tendrils of wood smoke fall away.

Here it is in Spanish and the translation:


Caminaba por sobre la llanura gris, al tiempo que el sol le escocía las pestañas.


He walked past the grayish plain, as he felt the Sun chafe his eyelashes.

>>8984393
>>8984406

Not actually writng a novel just came up with this. feel free to shit on it.


If waking up at 3pm every day without regret were an art, then Jasper Holiday was a first rate forger at the height of his career with hundreds of beautifully rendered classics of sleep, wasting no stroke, whether he was painting the day away by reading comics or jerking it to his non-existent younger sister. It all started with the best and worst day of his life. The day that would set the canvas for his way of being. 6th grade march 15 1985, the day of his 13th birthday in which he lost his virginity to Erika, the prettiest girl in the class, it was also pizza day at lunch, but alas the pizza was gone once J. got to the line and all that was left was day old lasagna. Ok he said to the lunch lady while avoiding eye contact, he'd never bothered to learn her name or any of her kitchen mates, they were just there serving up gunk until Pizza Thursdays. After handing out the 75¢ and slipping away he stood at the edge of the tables and scanned the dank hall, with hanging fans and all, it's wide windows near the roof couldn't do enough to make the vacuous carapace feel less like an old hospital ward. Crap he thought, Blocky and Mike have second lunch, I'll have to sit alone again. Walking by the running and laughing kids was a memory that would always paint it self in Jasper's head, especially in institutionalized facilities, wards and cafeterias, auditoriums and theaters, they all had a sense of utility that he wasn't used to, everything too clean, too organized, it would be much better to spread some color around, bring in a few couches instead of benches.

>>8984556
The beef in the lasagna had a sour taste, he closed his eyes and told himself he'd be early next time, screw Erika, she would find someone else to hold her books while she walked down the stairs. There wasn't much he remembered about Erika except her voice and looks, looking back at her now from time to time whenever he thought of girls past, he would congratulate himself but banging her, his first crush, but would immediately feel inadequate for the horrendous city moving, school changing memory delegated to that fateful day. The lasagna rumbled, his stomach made noises and pirouettes as he walked up the old ceramic tiled stairs, the pain started and the sweet smell of piss and weed from the 8th grade side of the school he used as a shortcut made a lump in his throat, the stairwell started to spin, he would throw up and everyone that was there racing to class would look down at his convulsing body shooting out yellow slime on the floor, but he held and on a merciful cue the last of the drilling footsteps crossed the door and banged it shut sucking the air chunks from his stomach. The pain was unbearable, he closed his eyes tight and heaved again over the railing onto the janitor closet below him. Shit why why why he managed to blurt out with a thread of spit before his stomach gave a final twist and shot out the last of the rotten mess. This was not however what made this day the worst and the best of his life.

>>8984554

Also, in the Spanish version, I'm aware "por sobre" might seem a little off, though I'd rather keep it

>>8984554
what the fuck, eyelashes dont get chafed. that's bad. Just say the sun hurt his eyes.

One fine morning in the month of May an elegant young horsewoman might have been riding a handsome sorrel mare along the flowery avenues of the Bois de Boulogne.

This wasn't what I meant, when I asked for a serving of pea soup.

>>8983822
>reads a book once

>>8984567

Does chafe imply rubbing? That was what I was fearing

I was making the sidewalk my left foot's bitch (and then my right's, and then left's, etc.), when I bumped shoulders with some hasty lil nigga clutching a leather bag.

The black stud looked straight into her eyes and they both knew that the consummation was confirmed, so I heard from my wife.

>>8983757

Smeared across the wall was this bureaucratic milktoast's cells and laundry

Without a thought, he clicked "Post."

>>8983757

At 10:57, it was decided by unanimous vote that the Birch family was going to die.

>>8984667

>/pol/: a novel

>>8984667
this is a good one

Like a fruit, his asshole puckered and tingles emanating from his lower half traveled upwards, steadily increasing in intensity.

>>8984687
>>8984667

samefag scum

>>8984708
Try again.

>>8984556
>>8984560
I would have liked to see more painting puns desu.

>>8984603
yes, and if it's the same in spanish then it sounds weird as well.

>>8984689
how does an asshole pucker "like a fruit"

It was another sleepless night in which I was debating whether or not to cut off my other leg in order to pass all the lines at Disneyland; the first one apparently wasn't enough.

>>8984779
The man is like a fruit. Because his asshole is puckering. Presumably from a faggosexual experience of some kind.

>>8984708
i thought it was a funny beginning go away autist

>>8983757
a butter plum sat gregariously on the wood grain stove awaiting to be plucked like the fruit of stars and tree horns in the forrest of evermore, dropped into a bucket of sauted stew. Nathanial Pettonspre was just exiting the shower when he heard a shout coming from the white kitchen, and at first he thought it might have been his garlic water simmering over the pan, the steamy liquid hitting the metal like a tea kettle squeal, as he prepared his meal before he entered the shower, and it was almost all he could think about, between operatic belting groans, quarter edging cock cleaning, and the soothing drifting thoughts of dark blue sky going on for miles with the cloud colors, the open expanses of barbarian armies trolloping on psycho horse, with the hot water god love blanketing his back and head; it was his roommate Delilah. "NATHANNN!!, what the fuckk dude... what the fuck did I tell you about leaving the stove on while your not in the room, especially if you're taking a shower. Fucking, retarded man, you lazy fucking cunt, I just spent all last weekend scrubbing that place clean, and you just spray and stain wherever you please, mr fucking fantastic, clean".

"ummm, i'll clean it bitch, chill the fuck out, my hunger is much more important that harmless not-even-dirty-dirt, and what is more valuable than efficiency, chill your shits and lack of giggles you fuck wagon, turn the temperature down, i've gotta take a shit".

>>8983783
lel

>>8983757
>Then he unleashed the wrath of his mg42 upon the unknowing catamites for a full thirty seconds before noticing yusef's shouting off to his left.

>>8984567
YOU'RE A FA9

>>8984875
Yuo is höm0 mor

>>8983757
Thus she farted loud and clear, putrid odor filled my nostrils and I screeched loud and clear as my testicles emptied themselves involuntarily.

>>8984875
TEST

If Gregor could be a bug, then why couldn't he chop his dick off and call himself a girl?

Do you feel nervous?

No two ships in the Terran Fleet are exactly alike.

two gods remained one if you counted the golden retriever's arse full of william gass that night, my diary desu was to intelligent for publication, again the moocow down the glen he spat ye for ye see the kid, tortilla yecarthy and DFW [1] write better than any god damn woman, it is
the death
of art i will never understand
why you held me
if you were afraid of
the legacy of
totalitarian dreamscapes in a tundra
like a rolling stone.

[1] Wallace, David Foster (1962-2008). Novelist known principally for writing about passing an intro mathematics class viz. every other hack in America.

>>8983822
Don't listen to those scum, I like it, its very nice (if its really your opening line, or if its not)

>>8984101
Dig it much, really good

>>8984560
Got me hooked bro, keep writing

Oprah: "So what made you decide to write this novel?"

(You): "Well, I was really struggling with my graphic novella e-zine, actually to tell you the truth...I hope my moms not watching.. I was considering suicide" (crowd gasps, camera pans to a woman in a green turtle neck tearing; as Oprah reaches back and hands you a box of tissues)"but then, there was this thread online, that said to post the first sentence of your novel, and I dont know what came over me, it just poured out, from the deepest depths of my soul, that most poetic truth, I kept bottled in me all those years" (crowd collectively sighs)

*Oprah jumps on the chair* "You get a copy of this New York Times Bestseller, you get a copy, you get a copy" *crowd going wild*

Oprah: "Before we go to commercial, what was the name of this forum, so we can make sure to give them proper congratulations?"

(You): Oh, its nothing really, just this Ethiopian peanut sniffing factory called 4chan

*crickets... a pin drops... the cameras turn to emergency broadcasting*

*Oprah clenching her teeth pointing her finger toward the door*

Oprah: "You get up...and you start walking toward that door...and I dont EVER... want to hear your name again...do you... hear me... you fuck..."

>>8984587
>>8984591
Good

"Why did I do this?"
He sat in the small dinghy for endless hours, rocking back and forth on the sea. The sky grew clouded, more rain was to fall. There wasn't enough wind to get to his destination in good time. Nobody. Nobody in 2 months. The boat glided slowly in the the general direction of a woman he wasn't sure he loved anymore. A single drop of rain landed on the back of his hand. He sat outside, surrounded by infinite sea and nothing, nothing. Perhaps she was just a placeholder for him to have a purpose in his otherwise meaningless life, he wondered. He would go to her, not sure if she would even care, not even sure if he would either, but still having achieved the goal of sailing halfway around the world. So much time, so much water. He began to sing

Raggedly, the nigger drew his last dying breath.

I'm slowly starting to accept that /lit/ has zero talent and only dilettantes expecting praise post in these threads. This is hardly better than the Reddit thread.

After work, Buddy decided to stop by Eddie’s place to see what the guys were up to. He parked and let himself in; they’d all be down in the rec room watching the game, no doubt.
He walked down the stairs and found everybody sitting around, watching the game.
“Hey, guys,” Buddy said, and helped himself to a beer from the well-stocked fridge.
“Buddy!” Ralphie called out from across the room.
“Good to see you, Buddy,” said Eddie, looking his way.
“Hey, Buddy,” Billy said, holding up a hand, without taking his eyes off the TV.
“Anyone need another beer?” Buddy asked.
“I’ll take one,” Ralphie said.
“Me, too,” said Eddie, and caught the one Buddy threw his way.
“Yeah, I could use one, too,” said Billy.
Buddy settled in on the couch…another weekend had begun.

Mike hit him with a metal bar and the man fell, dead. Mike left hurriedly, realizing he was going to have a murder rap. Getting in his car, he drove away fast, heading for a hotel. At the hotel he sat and decided what to do. He called his girlfriend and told her to pack his things. The police found the body and identified the killer as Mike by fingerprints on the bar. Before the police could track them down, Mike and his girlfriend got on a plane to Europe. In Europe they went to the countryside and decided to buy a house with money the girlfriend had. “I need a gun, too,” said Mike. They bought everything, food too. Then they settled down and lived under European names. That was the past.

>>8985364
Interesting approach, I don't know if a general audience will get it though

>>8984961
GENRE FICTION but id read it

>>8985364

6/10, but that's two sentences.

If it were up to me I never would have touched a sausage in my entire life, but nobody exists in a vaccuum.

Life is fate. The world is one—and many. No one can tell when our world will end or even if it has an end, a beginning, or a middle. We can only go with the flow and hope for the children.
A man is born. He creeps through life on his metaphorical hands and knees, seeking—ever seeking. Seeking. Only to die with that question still on his lips: what is it that I seek?
In the ages since Earth was formed from the sweepings from the Big Firework that made our so-called universe, generations have risen and been consigned to the scrap heap, all straining to become themselves without ever truly knowing if those selves were selves or simply the clowns or dreams of space and time. Will the mishmash of eternity ever be unknotted by the laser of consciousness? Only we hold the answer—if we do.
But as Niestchze said, “For every thing there is a season.” Thus begins the season of Harry Carruthers: insurance salesman, father, lover, and seeker, ever seeking.

>>8985364
>dilettantes

*tips thesaurus*

Of course it started off with me having fun.

>>8985364
>he thinks /lit/ is one guy

The twittering of birds at daybreak sounded insipid to Francis.

>>8985869
Read this as:

The twittering of birds at daybreak sounded stupid in France

>>8985126
I can see it. Thanks.

>>8984556
>>8984560
Not bad but it kinda goes off on the kid and I was left waiting on the first part. Who is this Jasper guy, how old is he, what does he do, where is he etc.

>>8985364
The two main obstacles are that posting here is considered "self-publishing" at least under the US rules, and as such uses up "first world-wide" rights, which means no one with any serious chance would ever post here; and second, anyone with any kind of serious chance would never want it later revealed that they were ever in any way associated with 4chan. As >>8985126 adequately captures.

>>8984849
fucking LOL is this reads like bad 19th century pulp.

The brilliant cerulean sky was shining bright blue above us, and in it was the yellow speckle of the sun pouring a golden shower of radiance, sparkling coins of light, and I had just convinced my girlfriend to get an abortion.

Nevermind the pins and needles up and down his arm, it was the clock's ticking which worried him.

>>8983757
>You little faggot! I will floss your teeth with my pinworms and you will thank me.

>>8983757
Little did he know that he just sealed his fate, it had been a long time coming.

I'm surrounded by memes and jokes.

The clouds prepare for battle, in the dark and brooding silence.

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed.

>The snow burned as it touched my cheeks -- rosy from the alcohol early that night.

The protagonist is an alcoholic if you didn't catch it from the start

The crippled guns around Triena moaned and squeaked as they cooled, barcoding the silver dawn for miles in every direction with pillars of smoke.

>>8985364

that's two sentences follow the rules fagmo

It wouldn't be in english

>>8983757
Tommy couldn't stop crying.

After what felt like a long, exhausting sleep, (insert any name) suddenly found himself in his room, and realized he wasn´t dead anymore.

>>8987867
Transale that shit negrumps.

>>8983757
When the night became a potatoe, we start to think that the stars were hungry.

>>8985364
completely agreed.

It's sad to see how ruthless and lofty /lit/ are in regards to virtually anything, but when put to the task of writing themselves, what they produce is either through and through garbage, or at the very best, a measly attempt to ape their beloved post-modern door-stoppers, replete with a DUDE CYNICISM protagonist [self-insert] mockingly addressing the reader

Are the /crit/ threads just an off to the side subsection of the board? It's all just so awful. In a long time of browsing only a handful of contributions have actually impressed me. I often try to constructively critique because these threads are always a dogpile of morons blatantly ignoring the agreed upon etiquette of critting before you post your own shit

the night was sultry

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>>8984560

Last Jasper had heard, Erika was a prostitute, perhaps even an addict of some sort. As an addict of sleep, he understood having a craving for a taboo substance, and throughout Jasper's teens and into adulthood, sweet Chino was his mistress, they got some weird fancy name for it now but it still do what it does, make you sleep. He dreamed of Erika recently. She had said something in her feathery young voice then immediately mutated it into an older raspy smoke tunneled howl, coming from a blemished person that carried a mix of musty sweat and gig smoke. He dreamed about her in this way only once and it stuck. The though of her didn't make him angry, it was the immolating sinking feeling in his gut when he remembered what he did that night with her, without giving a single fuck about anyone but himself, hoe could he? Fuck this. Jasper grabbed an empty bottle of pills in his drawer. it was 3:30 in the after noon and Blocky was probably working, no good ringing him for pills or weed. fumbling with the plastic wrapper of the cap he looked around the room.

The kids were staring back at him. His ears were ringing but the rush made it unnoticeable. Sweaty and white, he broke himself from the awkward pause and the room shifted sideways as he sat, the ringing ears now taking in a faint white noise, the heat from his blood. The teacher entered the room and let in a breeze, the cold went into Jasper clothes and refreshed him, Close you eyes and breath I'll be fine just breath up and down. The ringing of the bell was rough, sitting almost directly under it. Still sweaty and walking through shifting hallways around him but not a river anymore only a slowed down beat, he diagnosed himself better. Hey I feel better now, I'll just call home and call dad to pick me up.

The wind slapped at the ranch siding in the dark, awakening [character] from a dream in which he played Prometheus

>>8988535
i think the poetry threads are better, higher highs and lower lows tho

>Melville writes "Call me Ishmael"
10/10. Masterpiece. Classic. Iconic.
>Melville never existed. Anon in this thread writes "Call me Ishmael"
Called an amateur or laughed at (if any replies or even given)

Silly idea for a thread. This over-emphasis on first sentences is nonsense.

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She quivered so violently she couldn't help but slide off.

I’m pretty sure there’s a dragon in my room.

The war would begin, as they do, with angry young men.

>>8988663
Melville wrote in a specific time and context, you can't divide that from the creation of a work. If you write like a Victorian today it is absolutely embarressing

A pups arroof pre-seeds a quaking thunderous crescendo, dragging me from the dusty night into the morn, mind asunder as the horror descends into being, the yearning for the gristle and pop of the kitchen is great, yet it'll meet no yield, mother's familiar and comforting yelp of flat cakes is missing. I'd merely dreamt the dog.

>>8987818
is this infinite jest?

>>8987818
Did you post this so that if people gave you shit about it you could tell them it's Joyce?

"The vampire hung suspended by his wrists from chains that stretched his arms widely."

>>8989827
here we go

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>>8988705
I'd watch it

>>8984610
wats up cuck

There was a wet smack followed by a slow groan.

>>8988734
>Joyce visits Reddit

not one good one in the bunch. You should be embarrassed if any of you submit.

Which should I go with?

"It was the Fall of 1987."

"I love you, He loves you, don't let them tell who can't love you like I do, nor Himself."

"I can't begin to tell you how hard it is to believe; to believe this or that, my story or His story, our story."

Daisy liked to touch herself.

A creaming comes across my eye.

>>8991401
God story?

>>8991789
More or less.

"Look, there – pubes, all over!"

>>8988612
This has the pacing of a short story, not a novel.

>>8983757
Oi cunts, what's going on in here?

>>8987818
>>8989807
its actually quite/really good though

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I've never been a proud man.

The black shoes scissor-swaying across the pavement below me have always been those of a person, nobody in particular. Many people give off the impression that beneath their deceptively singular human visage lies a sleeping Ulysses. This mute tragic hero can never be seen, least of all by the one putting on the guise, as nothing would kill Hamlet faster than the knowledge that he is a dream. However, it's not like these personas lie completely dormant. They apparate subtly in a tone of voice or a certain geometry of the body. Like Caesar's ghost descending from a bedroom closet your closest friend announces his plan to head to the liquor store, his every word another rhetorical swish of Cicero's tongue. He dances out the door like a consul on parade and returns to his own private last supper of Pabst and Kraft Dinner.

What a world that must be, to become Christ one minute then betray him as Iscariot the next, to be a slave to history and time. What a blessing to inhabit the beautiful paradox of being something which strives to become nothing at all.

Yet wherever I look, I can't help but see.

I've been dreaming lately so I think we're coming close to the end. I can already feel mythology creeping up on me. I've already been there, on mescaline in McDonalds, beheading my father with my own blade before ignobly penetrating the overweight cashier I knew to be my own mother, yet providence drove me onwards and outwards and onwards again.

I birthed myself and awoke to find I had a craving for a peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwich, humming 'Blue Suede Shoes' as I readied the pan.

>>8991411
...go on

There I was...

Not a novel, but this is the first thing I've written in years-
I had a conversation with an ancient king
In his his hidden putrid court
His scowl fierce, his face pale
His skin stretched thin over bones
Long, thin limbs under raw leathery seaweed
"I am ancient and wise, more than you could ever comprehend"
His voice sent a noticeable vibration trough the air
All living things shivered with a cold fear of death
"My might..."
The King rose up, reaching to the middle of eucalyptus trees as grey as him, showing greenish wrinkled ankles,
"...Is greater than you may ever understand"
I looked up into his squinting slits of eyes, and with a treble said
"The past is gargantuan and I will never be able to scale it"
The air got warm and damp, as if the swamp itself was sweating,
"But the future, your majesty, it is what hides true incomprehensible horror"
And I went away and the mud was putrid and the was sky yellow and the king reigned long after my life was forgotten and we have never thought of each other since.

No two of his paintings were ever the same, his failure as an artist forced him to cut back on supplies and could only afford less and less paint.

>>8988734
Too far.

>>8992675
Remember that it is nice to hold back in descriptions, you already stated the king was ancient, to go on and on for three more lines is unnecessary and redundant.

other redundancies:

>I am ancient and....

You already said he was ancient

>His voice sent....
>All living things...

You can condense this into one really nice line

>squinting slits of eyes

The air got warm and damp, as if...

Keep the as ifs out of here, your analogies and comparisons are good, just add it into the subject.
>The swamp itself started to sweat making the air warm and damp
make it happen instead of "as if"

>incomprehensible horror

The time of Lovecraft is gone, besides true horror is seldomly comprehensible.


The last line is excellent, but "never thought of each other since" took me out of it, made it feel like some teenager reminiscing of an old breakup. Unless that's what you were going for?

I hope this helps, despites my problems with it I like it, that's why I responded in the first place.

>>8983757
I don't really want to write a book.

Underneath his eyes that seemed to everyone to be so downcast and filled with the desire to be cared for, he was playing around with the idea of murder.

WORLD FAMOUS ARTIST EXILED!

(it starts with part of a news article—each chapter has a different section from the same article, with the final chapter intro revealing the climax, pre-epilogue)

Scrolling idly down the page, he read the words "post first line of your novel" and, at that exact moment, decided to become a writer of great literary novels, ones to be truly appreciated by the most superior of literati: Proustites and Joyceans, Wormwords and Gallahans, and now—Gusthaversens!

I reached climax and when I reached it I came in my pants, of all places, oh why my pants! Chad saw and laughed, pointed and laughed, as loud as he could until everyone was laughing and pointing. While he laughed he looked me in the eyes, his eyes looked like Daisy Ridley when she does her Alien smile, but they had a glint to them, like he was looking at me deeply. He wasn't laughing hard, just loud, and his face began to get red, his laugh began to fade away and his finger curled in to his fist, causing his arm to lower, strangely his face remained red and got redder every second. When I saw his eyes disconnect from mine and go to the floor directly behind, almost looking through my chest, my gaze drifted down to his groinal region and I saw what looked like the geography of Florida going down his pant leg, except in a wet sticky mucus that stained and sweated out of his sweatpants. After taking his turn in getting pointed and laughing at, he pushed me into the restroom and pushed me into a wall and said "What did you do to me, loser! Why did that happen to me?!" after keeping eye contact for maybe 4 seconds at most, he pushed his mouth into mine and vigorously began to tongue my throat. My eyes went wild, I instantly got hard, and instantly came again. The event got to intense for both parties that we eventually ended up pushed up on the door, which gave way to us, landing us smack dab in the middle of the main hall of our High School. As we looked around to see what was expected, we saw the unexpected. Every single person in the sight was embraced, on the ground or standing up, and passionately making out. Boy with man, girl with woman, boy with woman, and the rarest of all was boy with girl, because they rarely are found next to eachother in the first place. On top of a lunch table, which was clearly in sight from this view from the outsides of the restroom was a mexican lunch lady riding a 14 parapelegic reverse cowgirl, her pussy was dripping cum and the boy was eating an orange for the vitamin C. As the two newly formed lovers took this all in, we instaneously snapped to and caught eachothers eyesight, with a wry shrug I unsheathed my member and the bully began to unfasten his belt buckle while spinning around to switch to doggy (in order to stimulate the prostate for effectively, considering the curve of the nerds abnormally large member).
After maybe 3 minutes of steady fucking by everyone in that hall, there came a cacophoney of orgasm and a groan that vibrate down everyones spine, the ecstasy of the moment burned a hole in the back of their brain and nary a single butthole/vagina was not dripping with cum that afternoon. This was truly, the greatest moment of eachother their lives.

>>8983757
It was a good place to set fire to, she decided, and got to work.

For the third time that evening the clock's passage had surprised him, however, despite his hopes, this time time he could not blame it on drink.

After several times turning round he came to realize the distant screaming was always directly behind him, so he did the first thing that came to mind. He lay on his back. At least the screaming muffled slightly.

>>8984041

God, Player One is so cringey. It's like I'm reading the diary of a colored hair indie game dev.

My arms are broken, my legs are broken, my heart is broken, but I am not afraid.

This is the first stanza of a poem I've spent quite a while writing...
Inside the river of night,
The prussian visage of the wind blows
Her cool breaths across the shapes and organs
Of my anatomy,
Unleashing upon my skin a dead Christmas.

>>8983822

You have no reason to use words like azure and charcoal.

and how the fuck does the sky swim?

Stick to simply prose. Velvet prose is bad. period.

I think mine might just be really boring.

Sweat beaded down his forehead, dripping off his chin through patchy stubble into the collar of an already drenched shirt.

But then again my original beginning to the story contained him having a nightmare to begin. I think that was worse honestly.

>>8993675
shit that's the wrong version, here we go
Inside the river of night,
The prussian visage of the wind blows
Her cool breaths across the shapes
And organs of my anatomy,
Unleashing upon my skin a dead Christmas.

Between here and there and then and now sat the man too timid to think that thought that threatened to drown him; "why had he said goodbye?".

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>>8983757
"Hustle bones comin' out my mouth!" he stammered .

"My wife had just found out I'm sterile."

His great grandfather was a peat shoveler, his grandfather was a peat shoveler, his father was a peat shoveler, but he, he was a peat shoveler.

>>8983757
There was nothing behind me but cold, dead road.

>>8993791
3/10
>>8993738
2/10
>>8993715
1/10
>>8993695
4/10
>>8993664
5/10
>>8993618
6/10, intriguing but somewhat awkward sentence
>>8993613
6/10, same as above
>>8993449
3/10

>>8993810
this was me, i might have been a bit harsh but rating a single sentence is impossible.

>>8993810
>tfw both of mine get 6/10.

One is from a shitty book about ghosts being a form of memetic disease and a professor who successfully turned himself into a ghost pressganging the guy who moved into the house he committed suicide in to helping him find a new body.

The second is about a guy who really hates his apartment building.

>>8993835
i'm the one who rated u. don't take my criticism too seriously as im just a bored guy on the internet, but keep at 'er my man

>>8983757
Swirling colours and lights danced across his vision, as though spilling from his psyche.

>character in opening paragraph is in an isolation tank

>>8993886
>as though spilling from his psyche
Arent they spilling from his psyche though?

>>8993895
It speaks to his isolation that he doesn't understand that they aren't.

>>8993901
>that they are.
Shit, sorry guy who actually posted the line.

Cracks in the ice spider out from where I landed; nose broken, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Flatulence had been bothering him for a good half hour. This was it, the apex. A great combustible sphere had formed in his mind: translucent, pearlescent on the surface. His loins trembled, temples clenched and though he was trying to maintain that homoerotic feeling to finish his gonzo article, the inevitable happened: detumescence. He simply couldn't resume writing. Despondent, he called it quits and decided to indulge in pop music.

Mucky February and the roadgrime caked thick across his sleeping coat, tinted brown and yellow by the effluence of his one remaining lung.

>>8994040
This got me laughing.

>>8983757
The boy stood alone on the bridge above the stream, leaning with one arm on the rail while holding in his right hand a green fishing pole, gripping it haughtily as if it was some sort of magic wand.

>>8984362

Underrated fucking post

>>8993703
shit that's the wrong version, here we go
Inside the river of night,
The prussian visage of the wind blows
Her cool breaths across the shapes
And organs of my anatomy,
Unleashing upon my skin a dead Christmas.

>>8984747
>>8986390
>>8991896

Thanks, I might just actually put some work into this and refine it into a short story.

>>8984587
Get plague and die

>>8983757
Thats me. You probably wonder how I ended in this situation.

>>8983757
Sam says this is really good stuff and Sam is the whitest person I know; now, take that as you will, but in this business, you don't want to like what Sam likes; or at least you should consider dropping whatever you like and Sam also enjoys.

And then there was this faggot.

Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped-turned upside down

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>>8992675
I like it a lot but I am a sucker for this stuff. Since I want to start writing something similiar I hope you dont mind me asking a few questions. How do you go from there? What is your novel about? My problem is that I can only think of scenarios like the one you depicted but I dont really know how to weave them into a story.

>On the morning of my first day, July the twenty-fourth, 1881, in a small London hospital, I received the breath of life; I can only imagine the pride my father felt as he took my five and three-quarters pound form and hoisted it on high.

>>8983757
In the vast and open country, in those days known as Tandar; among all the scorching sand where the the two main trade routes crossed, there existed a lone forest, but it was no relief for a weary traveller.

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The true life is its own triumph.

At the very least it was not his fault.

Niggers.

>>8984567
>don't use any poetry ever, speak literally
Jesus Christ, why are there so many people in /lit with this pointless attitude. Go read a fucking shopping list.

>>8996633
Saying eyelashes chafed is poetry? Anon even confirmed it was lost in translation and you mongoloids are still defending it. lmao.

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>>8985364
>>8988535
It's almost as if criticising stuff is piss easy and actually creating stuff is much harder!

>>8996670
It's not this specific example so much as how widespread this "just only say exactly literally what you mean" attitude is in crit threads.

Their shack doesn't have air conditioning.

>>8992499
noice, kek check

>>8992802
>"I don't really want to write a book."

was the first thing he wrote down, in his 2,000 page critically acclaimed magnus opus novel

"Please turn to page 296, that's where this story really starts"

>>8996732
because anyone who actually writes good and with any artistry, we must tell them to change their writing to make it worse and mediocre and dull (like ours), because they are our competition, and we should not want them to produce writing so better than ours

>>8997149
>"Please turn to page 296, that's where this story really starts"
>turns to page 296
>just kidding, starts on page 35
>turns to page 35
>just kidding, starts on page 172
>turns to page 172
>just kidding starts on page 98

Yes, the house his father built with his bare hands, which contained his families dreams and soul and life savings was currently burning down, and yes his recent obtainment of gonorrhea was flaring up in his penis, mouth and anus, and yes the burglar arsons had raped his entire family, including the new born twins, and yes the Marlins just lost another game, but at least he still had some time before he not even experienced the worst he would yet.

>>8983777
3/10
>>8983822
>azure sky
derivative, 2/10
>>8984006
3/10
>>8984101
5/10 maybe a little less verbose
>>8984270
4/10 second part is much better than the first.
>>8984377
5/10
>>8984392
4/10
>>8984450
past the second comma is good, ditch the first bit.
>>8984655
8/10 keep going anon
>>8984667
6/10
>>8985481
5/10
>>8985483
awful, just fucking awful
>>8987540
>cerulean sky.
your narrator better be an idiot anon.
>>8988705
1/10
>>8988710
5/10, cliche but reasonable anon
>>8993613
awkward 4/10
>>8993664
4/10
>>8996555
6/10 good anon, or at least by /lit/standards

>>8997231
>the book is actually just 700 pages of misdirection that leads you though all the pages to a dickbutt right at the center.

>>8988678
Your pic and this sentence makes me think suicide IS an option.

>>8989827
>christ is a vampire this time, boys

>>8997149
>burn book to find location of my house, then kill me

>>8983757
You nig some, you lose some.

>>8997383
why_are_we_not_funding_this.png

because I have less than no money and it might be top 10 worst ideas i've ever heard

>>8997227
It's not that deep, senpai.

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>>8983757
"Please read this entire book in your head with the voice of Gilbert Gottfried"

>>8996084
>hoisted
>five and three-quarters pound

he's not gonna make it, brah

t. /fit/

>>8998059
>thinks the concept of jealousy and competition is deep

>>8993913
>Cracks in the ice spider
>oh fuck he's starting out with an ice spider
>wait lemme read that again
>Cracks in the ice
>spider out

well now I'm just disappointed there's no ice spider

Between dilapidated bricks and a dumpster he relieved himself, and was shocked when the pile of rags he had made a game of aiming at rolled over and groaned. He continued to piss.

>>8998101
you got a water sports fetish, son?

>>8998149
The character in question does in fact have a watersports fetish.

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>>8998154

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As he walks down the cracked asphalt road, the trees loom overhead arching inward towards the road creating a dense and swaying, natural tunnel.

>>8983757
The scoopity poopity goober scoobered into the cafe, and I said "son of a bitch. son of a bitch."

>>8998446
beautiful

"Here comes the giant fist!"

The sky was poisonous.

"I'm faking Alzheimers!" said dad, again.

I SHAT MY PANTS XDDDD.

>>8983757
Choose the Force™. Choose the Jedi. Choose a Master. Choose the Council. Choose a fucking blue lightsaber. Choose protocol droids, R2 units and clone troopers. Choose Naboo, Coruscant and Tatooine. Choose fixed-interest credit payments to the Kaminoans. Choose a Corellian freighter that did the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs. Choose a Wookiee. Choose sneaking into the Death Star, deactivating a tractor beam, waving your lightsaber in Darth Vader's face. Choose turning into a blue ghost at the end of it all, disappearing into thin air, nothing more than an embarrassment to the whiny farmboy you trained on the way to Alderaan.

Choose your destiny. Choose the Force™.

But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got the Force™?

>>8997227
>>8998098
Dont get mad Anon, posting here makes you open to critique wether you like it or not, and you should be able to asses your work based on critique, not just instinctively think EVERYONE'S STUPID EXCEPT FOR ME

>>8999789
4/10

Too metaphorical for my tastes, no one likes a show off or a try hard. A bit post modernistic, would'nt you say? Try to make it a bit more literal, methinks?

>>9000103
damn so salty lol. Cant take the heat? maybe you should practice more before even starting a novel.

>>9000223
2/10. A regression really. No discernible talent

>>9000223
People try really hard on their craft, maybe effort to work up the courage to share, all to have some lowercased LMAO shitfucker nothingness of a teenage dick queef, make retarded criticisms, under the guise of 'knowing anything'

I didnt even submit any of my writing you fuck licker, I am merely speaking of the good writing I saw, put down, by what I can only presume to be, shit people. lol lol lol... you mad bro... you salty bruv... lmao... chillax bro, its just a prank

Stately, plump Cuck Mulligan came from the stairhead

>>8984554

>caminaba sobre la llanura grisasea, mientras el sol escocia sus pestanas.

fixed.

The asylum loomed out of the fog. A pot bellied structure stuck to the side of the hill, it's wide wall covered in windows as narrow as arrow slits, far too small for a man to squeeze through. He wondered for a moment why they had elected for them rather than bars. Perhaps the former only made the present feel trapped, rather than ensured it.

It felt awful even to write this.

>>8988663
just like when pierre menard wrote the quixote

The dust kept sticking in his nails.

>>9002123
I'm already casting my vote for you for the Nobel.

>>8983757
*BRAAAAAAP* sniff.. .. sniff ... mhh yes

To Augustine, the induction ceremony felt like a sermon.

>>8998101
not awful but make the man's aiming game more interesting and relevant - brick description not necessary

>>8998432
trees creating a tunnel is not interesting alone
>>9002026
awkward and boring - wide wall, far too small, loomed out of

"When I punched that baby in the dick, I didn't expect he'd end up fucking my wife."

>>8983757
"Hold my shit white boi" said Tyrone as they stepped out of that gay club, the sun hitting their faces.

there was saliva everyehere, god she could suck, pretty little head bopper that she was.

I raised my half finger and push enter. Surely that would teach them,

>>8984363
Seppuku'd

A deep mahogany blocked his vision. One side of his nose leaked coagulated blood as labored breathing forced out gore. Groaning became gurgles through the pool his face now stuck to.

A simple moment spark so brief in life was the tale of the horns that blew and boomed upon the city Para, the sweeping sea her gown, her limbs of stone alight with fire, the night that stepped before the Sun and left before the Moon, a time unclaimed by gods of men to sound the mortal doom.

>tfw you use commas however the fuck you want.

It was one of those grey days where you feel like stalking someone.

straying from the OP a bit with this but I'd like to hear some thoughts on this concept I was playing a bit with. Its far from plot-heavy but I thought adding it might spice up the work

>protagonist is 20-something government-working fuckboy who's depressed after his fiancee has a tragic accident and is in a coma
>life has been giving him his daily dose since he left college and his best friend/roommate suffered a sudden aneurism and died
>he was partially in-love with best friend's demure-and-distant girlfriend and grew closer to her during the grieving process
>she up and disappeared after they shared a kiss one night
>he never told his fiancee before her accident
>pressure from work, bills, and bullshit above begins to snowball
>new intern at his job turns out to be late best friend's girlfriend's estranged little sister who is more or less jailbait but pure
>she takes a liking to him which pisses off protag's supervisor
>he has trouble suppressing his interest in her relationship with her sister and sort of views the two as bizarro versions of one another (excluding the age difference)
>she finds out that he visits his fiancee every day and elects to comfort him
>protag increasing becomes frustrated but realizes that she's done nothing wrong
>ends up deflowering her via hatefuck session
>develops a sexual relationship with her
>she's in love with him while he is more or less partaking in it just as stress relief
>she feels guilty but is addicted to his dick
>shit completely hits the fan when his fiancee passes away and the sister comes back to town and goes nuclear about protag fucking her little sister
this whole sequence is more or less a minor page is the protag's life and long term the little sister dies (possibly via suicide) and protag ends up with the older sibling

>>9002768
I am reminded of Pun Pun

>>9002778
>Pun Pun
wots dis?
all google gives me is D&D and manga

>>9002788
Not him, but the manga is god-tier.

>>8983757

The term whiskey-dick gets thrown around a lot these days, admits Jonathan Harper, but he swears this never happens.

The cocky commune of arrogant pride we once shared had been replaced with soul stripped malice as our blistered purpose stricken feet clambered toward unforseen doom

>>9002197
Post one, or a series, of your sentences that you think is good.

>>9002728
>of men to sound the mortal doom.
Sentence is real good. I personally would write: of men to sound (or set) the mortal higher. (rhymes with fire, and not a direct, so close to each other rhyme, as moon, doom... though I might be wrong, this is just little thinking gut)

>>9003896
>The term whiskey-dick gets thrown around a lot these days, admits Jonathan Harper, but he swears this never happens.
Thought it was gonna read:... but his cock prefers a scotch

Shit tier sci-fi, fuck me in the ass /lit/

Also Google Translator powered because I'm lazy

On an abundant planet, rivers of that faint lilac intersect, interspersed, across a sea of canopies in shades of yellow, which render the soil almost invisible. The sky still glows in Mortiva's hemisphere, the central star of this system still shines its rays on the harness of animals that do not mind hiding in the shadows. It also illuminates such a curious structure: a vast bluish dome, traced with some symmetrical irregularities, embedded in the earth.

Here it comes, a human plague.

It was a dark and stormy night

I wish I was a pedophile.

>>9005780
Very nice, whats your original language?

Hands held, quite ready.

>>9005196

I might change it. I re-read my stuff over and over again and if it doesn't flow well in my head I redo it until I like it.

I can't write normal prose for the life of me. I want to try writing an entire story in this type of scripture though.

A simple moment spark so brief in life was the tale of the horns that blew and boomed upon the city Para, the sweeping sea her gown, her limbs of stone alight with fire, the night that stepped before the Sun and left before the Moon, a time unclaimed by gods of men to sound the mortal doom.

I was but a boy that illborn night, my mind untrained and filled with fright, I cowered sleepless beneath the steps of the temple of Alae, the mistress of the day. Beneath her statue I stared towards the stars, the sky burned red and bled, and scabbed, and split, a violet screaming scar. A terrible shriek, a chorus of banshees thats clawed and ripped the dancing clouds that whirlpool swirled and tearing twirled, a celestial cosmic coil, a twisted heavenly boil.

I reeled at the sight, I stumbled and fumbled taken flight, away! away! I fell and crumpled lay, beneath the graceful figure of Alae.

“Why do you flee young broken boy?” A voice that drifted like gentle snow and shown like crystal dew, and petal spread, a scented flower bed, that calmed and cleaned my heart that squeemed, decsended from her height, glowing, flowing, and knowing in the night.

Above the boiling, roiling vortex burst, a thousand lights that flashed and fluttered, flickered, formed and framed a face, a visage, neither beast nor man.

It laughed.

Vicious toothed maws crowned the tounges that crowned its teeth that grew like thorns upon its crooked carnial smirk, coated and bloated lips that pursed it licked and slobbered down its chin, a pickled broth, a putrid vile defiled bile dribbled from its smile.

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Either this:
"The only compass a child has are their own impulses."
Or this:
"The one thing redeemable about a careless unsupervised childhood is the ability to laugh at nothing."
I'm leaning more towards the first one, as the novel is all about young people in America being ravaged by their own impulses (think opiod addiction and death from automobile accidents).

http://pastebin.com/TnHETzeR

not my first line but my opening paragraph

>>9006943

for this one

>"The only compass a child has are their own impulses."

you mention the compass (singular) and then impulses (plural) which makes it clunky

Overall I prefer the second one feels more poignant but the small correction I'd make would be

>The one redeemable thing about a careless unsupervised childhood is the ability to laugh at nothing."

or something like

>The one redemption of a careless unsupervised childhood is the ability to laugh at nothing

I'm not sure what you mean laugh at nothing. Like laugh at pointless and arbitrary things ? Or as in they don't laugh at all

>>9006943

Both are quite good.

Are you leaning toward the first because it implies the children are lost? Because that carries its own host considerations (which I'm sure you've considered)

I'm leaning toward the second. It more fully follows through the thoughts of the narrator (in both instances an adult) who seems to be making a call on youth. The second seems more honest in one sense. The narrator feels just as lost as children do, and only the narrating voice seems to offer solace/direction. Whereas if you go for the first one, it implies (I think, at least tacitly) that all a child needs is to get to adulthood to find their footing, when we often know anything but that to truly be the case.

In either case, I hope you keep the animus up

>>9005979
Portuguese (Br)

>>8983757
If the term 'Energy', when stated as the fundamental essence of the universe, could be re-termed it would be 'Language'.

>>9006943
>>9008129

Not OP, but I'm presuming that he's talking about our childhood ability to see everything as play

When you’re very young, the world is full of atmospheres instead of objects. Think about what memories of childhood are like. They’re memories of how things felt, rather than records of what happened. The red and white dimples that carpet pile presses into your bare knees. How burps smell after you’ve accidentally swallowed pool water. The static electricity that hisses and ticks as you drag your finger across the screen of a television tube. These grains of experience evaporate into the aura of what it was like to be a kid.

Then you get older. The cloud you lived in as a kid starts to fall as hail. Think about how the act of picking a movie changes. When you’re seven, the aura and excitement of WATCHING A MOVIE creeps like a fog into the act of picking one out and it almost doesn’t matter which you choose. Ten years later and you’re weighing this film against that film, comparing tenths of an IMDb star, noticing how Lindsay Lohan doesn’t look like a scuffed Barbie in it, etc.

Life starts to turn dry. The grains of experience no longer evaporate. Instead they collect into little drifts. Lots of people get stuck here. For them the drifts turn into dunes and the dunes turn their lives into a desert of happenstance.

The narrator is (perhaps) one of these last people who can see that native strength of childhood and youth, fully realizing however, that in that strength is the great potential for blind personal destruction (compulsion). And whats more, how difficult, if not outright impossible it is to communicate these life truths to youth, who can hear what you're saying, but nevertheless, its like hearing about the benefits of oxygen from a Kryptonian

>>9008433

Whoah

In the beginning there was nothing.

Hello, hello, hello, this is me, I: hello. To those who still enjoy their humanity and wish to prolong their optimism, I have this to say: I beg to differ. What follows past this point is not a provocation. No, it’s merely a choice. This set of choices is you either continue on with the rest of these writings of mine or you don’t and stay as whatever you are, it’s up to you and I am not tempting you for anything; if you’re wish is to stay at the heart of the doings of philanthropy or merely coexisting benevolently with yourself, so be it. But if you will continue on, there has to be a will for understatement, a will to bear with me during most of these recollections. To what I saw, did, and had lived through, I probably have a good opinion on, and I am sure once you are through you will as well. I expect no pity, no sympathy, no indentifying, but I do know what is to come and what is to be thought, and I invite you to say and think whatever, but you must remember, we share the same skin.

My dick was hurting an awful lot because I had spent the day masturbating and I don't use lube, hating the mess it makes.

Knuckles glides north 1500 feet above Lake Sakakawea at 800 mph following Highway 83.

Thomas didn't like Nathalie's grandparents, but he loved Nathalie.

In all his many years of stealing underwear never had a opportunity quite like this presented itself. A holy grail, a choir of angels, he thought he could see his grandparents waving from across a river. Truly in this moment he felt akin to a king. Freshly worn!

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

>>8998432
the word "road" should only appear once in that sentence

She had an ass like a suitcase too full of wigs.

>>8983757
KABLAMO! a plastic bag soars through the skies of busy but spiritually dead mini mall.

>>9010697
https://newrepublic.com/article/61361/human-all-too-inhuman

Pick up some Henry James too.

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>>8997064
underrated

>>8983757
"That's not what I meant," she said.

>>8983757

She came from Greece she had a thirst for knowledge.

Smoke drowns Mirehouse in memory of what happend some three years ago.

>>9008643
hilarious funny joek, right? Does any one here even know how to read?

>>9006943
The point about compasses is simply not true. Many children not only have access to bonafide N-NW compasses, they even play with them frequently. This may seem petty, but ask yourself if any of your favorite writers (not DFW) would use words so recklessly.

>>9002655
Coagulated blood can't leak.

>>8984393
Forger? Does he not really sleep until 3pm?

>>8984655
How do you smear laundry on a wall?

>>8987818
Antony Burgess already asked, “how do you cross a mirror and a razor?”

It was finally happening, his gay dad's cock in his young, supple boipucci.

>>8993676
My fucking god you're an insufferable asshole.

>>8985211

I like it desu

>This is the first sentence of the novel, which I, the writer, am starting to write

WE POSTMODERN NOW

The messy assortment sprawled across the toilet didn't abolish the amnesia fog, instead the pungent smell of half digested whisky (which indeed forced her awake) began to conjure isolated images of the previous evening.

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>>8984606

>>8984393
>jerking it to his non-existent younger sister
kek/10

>>9011943
she studied sculpture at st martins college

It's shit but:

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.

The streets are empty.

He yelled at the top of his lungs and ventured unsteadily into the kitchen to grab himself another bottle of the usual. Next, he sat on a tatty mattress in the corner of his – pardon my lack of a better word – cabinet and, breathing heavily, burst out laughing. The emotional instability he dealt with since childhood kicked in again

The world is full of satisfied people with decent lives.

>>9012887
Is your intention to piss people off?

>>9011936
>"That's not what I meant," she said.

"Thats what she said" he said.

""Thats what she said, thats what he said"" she said,
"thats what she said, she said", he said.