find out if you're a good writer or not

>>9639094
Luring in the stamina of the campaign, the willows only sifted through a small percentage of the stench of the open sewer main upwind of the conference hall. Many of the staunch citizens approached their seats with a grimace of disgust and a gush of vomit splashing against the back of their throats, wondering what they'll have to agree to that day just to keep their fingers inside. Little did they realize that their hair cuts were in vain, and it was simply an execution of an aboriginal at the expense of the high royal society of Lieught Scleoupo. There was much revulsion at the sight of the blood of the native, which always served to titillate the impressionable revolutionaries, who had so much to prove with so little power to do it, they typically backed down from dissenting parties on a rate of 30% after that, which is tweaked magnificently later on in life when stocks are established to their social security numbers.

Mama caca poo poo pee pee
*BRAAAAPAAPAPPP*
Mama caca Pepe? Poopee

>>9639103
bad in terms of content, also strange word choices/phrases
>>9639107
bad

>>9639094
Trah. Ahm. P.

Three syllables, yet the marking of the ever approaching end.

>>9639140
brief.

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please be gentle, i'm a virgin to critique threads~

>>9639103
your syntax is wack

A short part from a story about an unfolding family drama from the viewpoint of the pet hamster. It gets momentum when the cat tries to eat the hamster and when mom loses it and goes on a killing spree.

I'm aware that it's probably worded weirdly and full of errors, keep in mind that i've learned english on 4chan and would normally write in german. So i'm more interested in your opinion on the general idea, since the finetuning of the sentences wouldn't happen in english.
Thanks a lot!

--

The final straw was when Mera didn't change my water for two days in a row.
One day, i can understand; it happens.
But two, that's unacceptable on every level.
I'm still in my nest, but i can smell the rotten stench from here and yes, i'm angry. You would be too if you were dependent on such inconsiderate and airheaded creatures.
It's not just Mera, Claire forgot to clean out my cage yesterday. And this hasn't been the first time. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is if you have to take care to not step in your own feces and with every breath you inhale vaporized urine? Thought so. It's not nice, in fact it's disgusting and i never asked for it.

What gets me going even more is that this could all have been easily prevented.

>>9639157
lemme guess you like videogames

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>>9639170
Not really, I just enjoy post-apocalyptic scenarios.

>>9639157
bad. jumps around too much.

>>9639167
please don't provide context. i'm not going to read it. i just want the writing.

anyways, bad.

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>And then I woke up. It was all a dream.

>>9639094
The station wagons arrived at noon, a long shining line that coursed through the west campus. In single file they eased around the orange I-beam sculpture and moved toward the dormitories. The roofs of the station wagons were loaded down with carefully secured suitcases full of light and heavy clothing; with boxes of blankets, boots and shoes, stationery and books, sheets, pillows, quilts; with rolled-up rugs and sleeping bags; with bicycles, skis, rucksacks, English and Western saddles, inflated rafts. As cars slowed to a crawl and stopped, students sprang out and raced to the rear doors to begin removing the objects inside; the stereo sets, radios, personal computers; small refrigerators and table ranges; the cartons of phonograph records and cassettes; the hairdryers and styling irons; the tennis rackets, soccer balls, hockey and lacrosse sticks, bows and arrows; the controlled substances, the birth control pills and devices; the junk food still in shopping bags--onion-and-garlic chips, nacho thins, peanut creme patties, Waffelos and Kabooms, fruit chews and toffee popcorn; the Dum-Dum pops, the Mystic mints

>>9639187
um..cliche

>>9639191
i would keep reading this...even though it is basically one big list

The boy watched birds at play through his bedroom window. He could see the male starlings distracting the mother robin from her nest so eggs could be laid by a female starling without interruption.
Their cruelty seemed to end as the female starling took flight from the nest. The robin returned and all seemed well.
Over the course of two weeks, the boy would watch the nest, until finally, some murmur of life called from within. He watched in silent horror as bright blue egg after bright blue egg fell from the nest and shattered on the ground below. It was clear that the starling infant had hatched.

Sunset found her squatting in the grass, groaning. Every stool was looser than the one before, and smelled fouler. By the time the moon came up she was shitting brown water. The more she drank, the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew, and her thirst sent her crawling to the stream to suck up more water

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>>9639094
So you fancy yourself a critic, eh? Here's a rough passage from a short story i'm working on

>>9639191
this is the only thing I've read in this thread worth responding to. it's fun, whatever it is.

>>9639191
this is generic. there's nothing of interest going on.

>>9639213
its nice but every use of the word "bar" after the first sticks out like a sore thumb. Try varying your language and this would be much better.

>>9639209
bad
>>9639210
gross...
>>9639213
bad..also this phrase "nobody knew where he came from or had been, who he had been. . ." is repetitive/confusing

>>9639191
I <3 u Donny D

>>9639223
>>9639226

these are not my opinions..fyi...i am op...but i do agree with the first one

>>9639232
Yeah, you're right. I've been writing fast to try and meet a deadline, so things like that are a bit of a placeholder.


>>9639235
The repetition is the entire point.

>>9639103
Thesaurus wanking right there.

>>9639242
ok then keep it..i'm just saying i don't like it

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1/2
Extreme weeb warning. It's yuri

“Just let me help. It'll be easier with the two of us. You get that side.” I order her to the other side. Before she does pick it up I think I see a very sincere blush across her face accompanied by a cute smile. She picks it up with me and we hobble over to my apartment. We go to set it down against the wall opposite of the bedroom door. But before I can set it down safely it slips from my hands and smashes down onto my big toe. The same toe I dropped the heavy box on earlier. “Gyaa!” Unlike last time I'm unable to mask my reaction to the pain. I drop onto the floor and rub my foot, thinking I can somehow rub the pain away.
“Hana! Are you alright!?” Himeko shouts. She drops down next to my foot to examine the trauma area. The pain is pulsating right on my big toe.
“I'm fine. Sorry for dropping it. My hand slipped.” I say as I wince from the pain. Himeko moves my hands away from my foot so she could remove my sock. Just her taking that off is painful.
“Your bleeding!” Himeko again shouts. It appears that I am bleeding as she says. A small stream of red oozes out of a small gash on my toe.
“It's just a scratch. It sure did hurt a lot though. I wish my feet wouldn't get so cold.” I complain. Whenever I stub my toe when they're bone cold like this the pain is increased a hundred times. I guess I have pretty bad circulation.. Himeko is still in a small panic mode.
“What do we do? I'm pretty sure I have bandaids in one of the boxes. Damn it. I'll never find them in this mess.” She laments.
“It's fine. I just need a paper tow-!” In the middle of me talking Himeko thrusts my bleeding tow into her mouth. “Hi-Hi-Himeko!” I yell in surprise.
“Thwith wilth stophe ha bweeing.” Himeko mumbles with my tow in her mouth. Her soft wet tongue sweeps around my toe, slurping up any blood that escapes my body.
“I can't understand you! Take that out of your mouth!” I tell her. This feels wrong. I hadn't showered yet today, so my feet are all disgusting and covered in dried sweat and god knows what else. Regardless her tongue eagerly licks every spec of skin. She takes my tow out for a moment to explain.
“This will stop the bleeding. And you won't get any blood on the floor.” She says, then immediately returns to sucking on my toe. Her saliva feels like the slickest of lubricant on my bare flesh. A funny sweet taste fills up my mouth. It's like I can almost taste how her saliva through my toe.

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>>9639257
2/2

“Stop! This is wrong! You shouldn't be doing that!” I tell her. She pays me no heed and continues her work. “I said stop Himeko!” Getting upset I yell at her. I'm borderline about to push her off right now. Himeko ceases for a second to looks up at me.
“What's wrong?” Himeko asks. She actually looks confused as to why I'd be upset. Is this girl human?
“It's gross. Why would you think that I would be OK with that?” I ask her. She grins and holds up her hand to my face.
“Why wouldn't I think you were OK with it? You're grinning like a pervert right now.” Himeko says to me. Lifting my hand to my face I feel around for my expression. As if I was paralyzed I couldn't tell that I had the largest grin right now. It's a squiggly uneven grin complimented by beads of sweat rolling down my face.

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>>9639245
Perfectly reasonable. My best friend who proofreads my stuff wasn't very fond of it either. Definitely not the best I can do.

Now how do you feel about this more experimental part?

>>9639191
>at noon
oh ya because you and I both know what noon means nudge nudge fucking weirdo
>moved toward the dormitories
to do what? take the chili pepper challenge?
>the objects inside
like objects within? sounds gay
>bows and arrows
very cute

C+

Francis smiled at the cowering of his opponent knowing full well that he had won this battle. His opponent quivered at the sight of his enlarged image on the monitor

Neither had partaken in a hacking battle of this sort yet they knew full well who was capable of making a career out if this so called hobby

...or did they?

Just then the lights went out and a wind swept through the room, for a split moment the hairs on the boys heads and even those on their arms slightly danced. The monitors in unison shut off and every computer ceased all activity. The light hum the computers emmitted came to a silence as well

A new face presented itself in the darkness uttering a phrase

"I shut off everything can I have some candy"

A young girl with tentacle legs and long brown hair was among them who gave off the scent of gasoline and fish.

Who was she and what did she want with these boys?

"I want Candy"

Find out soon for the low low price of 14.99 shipping and handling may vary

Bsmsls jsiaoos laosoa soq9 isos91k ks9qn9 is8j js8n jsjsbqo qpwoqp into dkwisthenzkskksks nzi ksi mcheeeeez naksmrpw t-t-tthus ksosp

>>9639243
I understood every word in that passage, I don't know how the poster was thesaurus wanking.

>>9639286
Touching. I feel like I can face the world again.

Tuesfay is co~ming did yu yu hakush-bring ur cooooawt

I live en a jiant pucket

Dooooyooo

Dooaayoooo

Pucket and all characterd from Macbeth and Juliet are all Shakespeare characters all rights reserved no copyright infringement intended

He looks up toward the windows and thinks he sees a bit of paper in one corner moving. Joey pauses mere feet away from the steps to the front porch. He knows he's being watched, the feeling is too eerie for him not to be. The hair on his neck stands on end as he approaches the stairs. "It's just a house," he thinks to himself. Swallowing the lump in his throat he begins to ascend the steps even though his skin crawls and tells him to leave. He glances around nervously and the only sight he can take in are the foreboding shadows that seem to engulf everything except the small swath of light cast by the flickering jack-o-lantern. Joey whimpers to himself as he pulls his shaking legs up the stairs. One by one he climbs in short, staggered steps.

>>9639261
bad...

>>9639266
it's not really that different to me from the first desu...it's just very abstract and nothing really grabs me....so bad

>>9639291
Ns skao msos slsopkatb jajs catacat boom shaksoso mxl9qo laka jsioq0099u1b u8

>>9639305
Why? Bad isn't exactly constructive criticism.

>>9639305
whoa..if i write "t b h" 4chan automatically converts it to desu? haha...didn't know that

>>9639309
...* yhink anon was trying to say something here you boort boort

>>9639313
What's wrong with them if they're used for the correct purpose?

>>9639279
bad
>>9639286
bad
>>9639295
i want to say bad...but i like the phrase 'jiant pucket' somehow
>>9639302
bad

>>9639306
bad

>>9639309
i'm not trying to provide constructive criticism, i'm only saying if i think you are a good writer or not, or if anything else occurred to me while reading your words. i think i can usually tell in a paragraph or so if someone is good.

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little clitoris dick sucker cock fucker fuck her in the face fuck her fucker tuck her in to bed, give me head, lick the junk, pop the trunk, suck me off, fuck my cock, stop for lunch, captain crunch, munch and munch, lick my balls, to the walls, fist fuck her until the stool comes out, clean the house, back again, bring a friend, spit roast, get toast, head hot, her heads not on your cock head, bring the bread. And there he was, he who hadn't had, but still hadn't had not, had had a have-not with the half-knot tied with eyes closed. and there he was back in the jungle, air steamy, the steam rose from the leaves on the shrubs and trees, he shrugged and sat on his knees, and his rifle he laid across his lap, now he's back, cut the crap, cut the shit, fuck the bitch.
Seventeen days had passed since the Lord had killed off all the dinosaurs in a great flood of fire. Annhilation of the great race of lizards, the greatest tragedy in the past million years. However, one great beast survived, and him we call crocodile, and the blood of the great beasts engorges his veins still. In truth, his lineage is even more ancient and storied than the rest, and his primitive bone crushing jaws are a testament to his power.
And Jesus said: render unto God what is god's, and render onto ceasar what is ceasar's. But the Romans still strung him up all the same.
if you don't understand this, you are a pseud

>>9639333
bad

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>>9639340

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>>9639094
i posted a stripped down version of this in a previous thread and everyone seemed to like it.

i added some flavor while drunk and, while i like it, i'm concerned other readers won't.

so watchu think!!??

>>9639333
What's even the point of this thread then? If you don't give criticism then no one knows what you think good or bad is. It would be one thing if you said why something was bad or not, I always welcome criticism. But this is just kind of masturbatory.

>>9639340
bad overall... but i think if you got rid of the crassness and provided more structure/depth the rest could be ok...at least it has some energy

>>9639340
I like this more than I feel I should.

>>9639341
:(
>>9639347
i didn't understand this at all..but i think you are a good writer...but don't try to bias me anyways by telling me other peoples' opinions!

how about me?

The Voyager Poem


In Year DF847580 the sun will die,
and we will no longer deal in decimals.

Cold fusion will only be 40 years away
from keeping us warm and alive
on some jovial moon.

God will have came back to find
an empty planet and a note
laser-cut in gold saying
something bittersweet about leaving.

We’ll be burning up on Mars’s new beach
front property, huddled up against the blood-sun,
and everything will be red. And we’ll sleep
during the day. And nights will make us feel
strange about the new galaxy.

All the reanimated will have to be put down,
because we couldn’t afford it. Some will cry
when Elon Musk dies again. Some will cry
watching the frail, demented, currently unknown,
unread, undead poets struggle with their meals
and speaking. The process will be perfected
shortly after cold fusion, on some jovial
night. And we’ll dig-up the dead again,
as we always have. And we’ll have them read to us,
as they always have.

>>9639348
sometimes i do...but sometimes i don't know why i think something is bad...or good for that matter..i can usually tell without really having to think about it

>>9639359
it really does require some context.

before I'd posted more of the text, which provided that context.

sorry!!!!!

>>9639363
bad

>>9639364
But there's no point in posting that unless you give reasons as to why you think it's so. It's fine to think like that. I'm not judging that. But the entire reason to respond and post something is to give some sort of feedback. You're just posting a thought you have that doesn't benefit anyone or gives any insight to anything.

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Big math. Letters. We're talking X, Y and Z. All of the above.

= coming soon=

Game faces everyone. I want to see no eyeballs. This test will be indicative of who you are, forever.

I thought I was screwed and then I just look at the thing and I find the first question (rather easily): 2 + 2 it reads and I think kid's stuff.

Child's play.

Later

I'm handed a B. Incorrect significant digits

and now I just don't know what to think.

Teach pats me on the back. Says, "Pthh. Ace in my book," invites me to the lounge.

I knew how I had really done. Somehow I had to make it look like a cinch.

"In practicality-" I explain. Teacher looks up, quite an angle to turn to, and says, "You actually did worse than the other kids. 'In practicality' I hope I never have to imagine".

The way out was a walk of shame. I enter the sunlight.

"Well, I thought I did pretty good" I say clandestine to myself.

I drop the thing. I was a fraud, and equally misunderstood. Some odd years go by. My wife's cleaning the attic and she finds a dusty old report card. There's a little smudge plastered to it (probably drywall, something my hands are just always into) and she scratches it off. Slowly a letter surfaces: D.

"Whoa she says. I didn't know you knew letters"

"Oh, X, Y and Z" I say.

"O" she says back. We laugh. Her hair is full of light.

Huh. I guess I really did do a bang up job, in those days. It is the people you choose.

-fin-

>>9639377
:(

>>9639380

>adds quotation marks halfway through
move aside Cormac, there's a new rebel in town

>>9639380
Who are some authors that write kind of in this style? There was one /lit/ poster who was working on a story about a peach farmer I remember having similar spareness.

>>9639378
i could be wrong and my opinion is not representative of what other people will think. if you believe that, then do not listen to me. i'm not claiming to understand all the nuances of your writing/plot or what it all means. i'm making a superficial, fast judgment....

>>9639380
bad

When I was seventeen, I crafted a makeshift straw out of a Fruit Roll-up and an antiquated batch of Elmer's Glue and directly entered it into the center mass of my girlfriend's petite apple bottomed ass, opening it agape half an inch, if any inch at all. I then took the lukewarm glass bottle of Strawberry Yoohoo and methodically poured it down the pipe, keeping an even hand as not to divert the slow steam from the foreign object lodged into living orifice.

My delight soon turned to confusion, the steady drain came to stop as the heavy Pepto-Bismol colored liquid began to overflow the fruit flavored straw, running along bulges of cream soft glue, mixing together in a stream of pink hue. As I put the bottle away, my creation of towering-suger-spectacle-wonderment began to collapse in upon itself, shrinking down to a firm puddle looking entrenchment, then stiffening quickly, taking on the appearance of dried gum left forgotten.

I tried to peel away the now formed seal around her anus, it's texture not what was expected on my fingers, an uneasiness came over me as i brushed the harsh prickly patch of congealed Fruit Roll-up, Elmer's Glue, and Yoohoo, melted into shape like plastic Tupperware over an oven. I did not like the touch of it. None the less, I carried on, sticking my index finger into the fray as it gave way like pressing on butter, not breaking but only flexing, downward into the depth of the crevice.

As I reached the end and began the exit, when fully dislodged I became surprised to find the width of what entered remained open when evacuated, shaped as though it was wet clay. I quickly inserted two, then three, then four fingers to see if the effect remained. Not wanting an uneven formation i made sure to rotate my hand left and right to create a circle like entrance rather than that of a column, as i knew she'd prefer the aesthetic.

Despite my hard-fisted intentions I made no progress in puncturing the anal quarantine and for the first time began to doubt my abilities as a good boyfriend. With nothing else within reach I grabbed the bottle of Yoohoo. Flipping it over bottom side up, I spun around the remaining drink left inside a few times then with a sudden force rammed it headlong into her gaping asshole.

I pushed, and I pushed, to my wrist, to my elbow, to my shoulder. 'God' I asked. 'Why are you making this so difficult' I asked, inserting my other arm. To my wrist, to my elbow and then i heard his voice. For it was Grand, Powerful, it was Beneficence and it was Sanctuary. 'Yes, Lord, yes.' I said finding an unknown strength as I stood, feeling his Glory, my arms raised to the Heavens, as her legs dangled down my chest, dripping with a now deep black sludge, and with the Grace of God, I ran, deep into the night.

>>9639369
i don't feel like i needed it though..

>>9639266
what do you like

>>9639414


pipi!

>>9639403
what are you looking for

>>9639409
why are you all posting weird sexual things...i don't understand it and i don't like it...except for the first paragraph i kind of laughed there for some reason at the thought of sticking a fruit roll up in someone's butt

>>9639427
i liked 2 of the things so far...so i am looking for things like that. the one about college that had the big list of things that was interesting for me to read...and then the other one that was very odd but about some guy named Jerry (who chooses to call himself different names sometimes i guess lol?) and had Hindu sounding words in it

>>9639439
why did you hate my story @9639380 it's not like true and dear to me, but I just meant to be funny

>>9639447
it was getting very technical haha..and about a thing i didn't particularly care about...i was kind of relieved actually when you started talking about religion at the end

My grandpa had kids at my age – my cum is in a fag's stomach again, and I feel like listening to Jethro Tull. I hope he's asleep, because I don't want him to see me making the sign of the cross, since I have to say the Our Father or it bothers me, and you can't say it without that. Another tomorrow coming up, and I have work, but it doesn't have me.

>>9639455
this is schizophrenically perfectionist as fuck---I believe strongly in this penchant for trash-lit as an opportunity as well

Fingers dance slickly on the table, not willing, but able, oh so able, buttery and smooth like soft cream, slip it in her drink, drowsy and dizzy, she won't resist me, she can't resist me, tie her up, make her suck, throat gets fucked, like a cunt, what I want. Tie her up, tie her down, fuck her butt, bleeding ass, break the glass, break her legs, break the skin, cave it in, reach around, fuck the wound, make her swoon, make her feel, peel and peel, flay the skin, cut the minge, make her cringe, stretch the flap, make it snap, cut her nose, what are those? Slit her eyes, split her thighs, crush her hands, can't fight back, twist her tits, with vice grip, pop her skull, eyes like grapes, make it gape.
BUT-

>>9639465
please no

>>9639471
Why not? Not descriptive enough?

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>>9639094

Here's the opening paragraph to a flash fiction story (<1,000 words) I was working on. Please tell me if I am a good writer.

Thank you!

>>9639094
Post a writing of yours, faggot.

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Rate my story. I've been reading Hemingway.

I went to the lake. The lake was there. I sat down by the lake. A girl tapped me on my shoulder.
'What are you doing?' she asked.
'Nothing.' I said.
'You're a dumbass,' she said.
'I know,' I said.
I followed her. She didn't hear me coming. Bam! Socked her. I rubbed my tent-like ballsack on her face.
'Fuck yourself,' I said.
'Kill yourself,' she said.
'Why?' I asked.

[It's left open-ended for effect.]

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>>9639848

Also, proof this is objectively Hemingway-esque writing. I have already achieved his style as this meagre age.

In the early hours of the 13th of August, 1953 - a Tuesday morning - there sat a man of fifty-three in a comfortable bourgeoisie dwelling in the center of London, at work with a sudoku puzzle from the morning paper. The ambient, ticking of his grandfather’s clock worked in harmony with his cognition. His mind was impermeable to distraction; totally immersed in his puzzle. Harmony pervaded his space, from the impeccably ordered furniture to the assortment of journalistic accolades that maintained flawless equality of height. There was not a stray item to be seen, all was in unison. He believed in being organized in all walks of life. Anything that might betoken mental or physical disorder, unsettled him. Jonathan Maroon was a man of simple leisure’s and simple labors; both of which he regulated in magisterial balance. His leisures were few and far between, an occasional visit to the theatre or the opera were the only dissipations of his life.He was a stoical man, who valued tranquility over all. There was little that could perturb him, and it was this resolute pragmatism, that landed him his enviable journalistic project.

In two hour’s time - after a pitstop at his workplace - he would be making his way to Cane Hill Asylum to uncover the reason behind Benjamin Galini’s decline into madness. Galini had been a very well known philosopher, hence the journalistic appeal. Mr. Maroon was chosen by his superiors due to his lengthy experience and infallible track-record, a seasoned journalist who reported with clinical accuracy. This came down to his belief that in doing his job, he was not only reporting to the great people of London, but to the universe itself; making sense of life’s many conundrums. He was a simple-hearted lover for faultless logic and the clarity in which it bestowed unto his life.

>>9639322
>Correct purpose

Perhaps the incorrect purpose is truly correct

>>9639333
Hmm methinks you just don't want to pay the 14.99 or the shipping and handling

She was upset by their making fun of him because she felt him to be an extension of herself, not because she loved him - and she didn't respect him either - but because he had become lodged, through time and habit, into her life. Involuntarily, she had invited him into her life, first as an accent, as a distraction, until unconsciously, he had become the dull, ugly center. There was no one in the world that she despised more than this man, in those moments when he tried, and failed, to land a quip; she felt revulsion heap inside her, wrench from her stomach, into her throat, and her eyes, like burning cinders, would concentrate their hateful points on him. And so when they insulted him, she saw thrust before her eyes the enormity of her wasted life, concentrated in the figure of this ridiculous man who had become attached to her like a leech.

Smallest, fully contained piece I've written:

Daniel crumples and folds--the page lying balled before him jagged and tattooed in graphite. Each waving letter slipping on the paper's folds into the shadows underneath. If only he could see where they fell in their disjointed state. Perhaps, he believes, within the ball, somewhere among the avalanche of disappointing script, lies the inspiration he seeks. Ironically mocking him as it hides all to well within his crumpled failure. He thinks to himself if only he could get a good start, he then knows his work will become a masterpiece.

Two more times, taking Daniel late into the night, he tries greatly to arrive at an acceptable introduction with no success. Switching off his desk lamp and leaving his study, Daniel takes to his bed and slips beneath the sheets. Giving up and eventually falling asleep. All the crumpled pages littering his study weaving perfect lives into their impenetrable folds.

first post best post

>>9640557

A page 'tattooed in graphite'? ... Jesus.

http://veekyforums.com/thread/9639094/literature/find-out-if-you-re-a-good-writer-or-not.html

wtf

>>9639191
These replies are ironic, right?

>>9640596
Not understanding the metaphor in relation to the entire piece... Jesus

>>9639094
Sure fuck it why not

Amarantha accused him, offhandedly, of having eyes for Holly Blue. The accusation was almost a standard formality of modern marriage, as lady's maids were all young, pretty, and flawlessly huffed. But Holly Blue was a typical thete, loud and classless and heavily made up, and Ronald couldn't abide her. If he had eyes for anyone, it was those beautifully realized sculptures propping up the archway just ahead; at least they had impeccable taste going for them. Not a moment after passing under the archway, the group was set upon by niggers and I've lost the will to finish this

>>9640611

wtf is that

>>9639157
None of this is interesting. This sample is 100% fluff; fluff that doesn't even set a tone well. You need to make better choices about what information the reader needs to engage them.

Also who would ever bring a mattress with them? That's ridiculous.

>>9640805
Apparently it's lit, but on a different website

>>9639858
bad
>>9640546
good
>>9640557
bad
>>9640737
bad

>>9639167
The premise and snarky narrator are both unsalvagable ideas. Nobody wants to hear an unlikable hamster whine about not getting taken care of.

>>9639828
bad i think...not entirely sure...the ending makes me want to keep reading
>>9639848
bad, funny tho

>>9639191
These aren't really the items college kids would be bringing to college.

>>9640841

You're damn right it makes you want to keep reading... It's the best thing in this damned thread.

Although I live in the city, I enjoy leaving my curtains open to catch natural light. Sometimes I even sleep with the curtains open, letting the sun hit my face to wake me in the morning. Every weekday, mother closes the blinds so the daycare child that sleeps in my room can sleep. When I come home from work in the evening, the blinds are still closed. This bothers me. On these nights, even when I come home late, I open the blinds for only a few minutes before closing them to fall asleep.

I love the sound of rain. I find it peaceful, and it helps me sleep. But I have no netting over my window frame, so I can't sleep with the window open, or else I'll wake up with mosquitoes and moths and blackflies in my room, sometimes hiding away for days at a time and sometimes fluttering around my head as I read. So I undo the locks on my window and raise it as far as it can go, without and proper gap in the frame.

More than the light and the rain, I love the fresh air. My room quickly gets dusty, so I leave my window open for hours at a time, in the hope of ventilating the place. But through the sunlight, in front of the open window, I still see dust float through the air. This frustrates me. Still, I especially enjoy the smell of fresh air during a rainfall. Tonight, as it rained, I opened the curtains, pulled back the drawstring of the blinds, unlocked the window, raised it all the way and stuck my head outside, breathing deeply and counting the stars that poked through the rainclouds.

>>9640829
but how did you find it... you are the culprit! >:B

>>9639347
I like this, but it needs editing. I understand the style you're going for, but it's a little too much, especially the rhyming.

>>9639403
Stop using ellipses you stupid fuck

>>9639191
Very good, Don

>>9639848
>>9639848
>>9639848

Best thing in this thread! WOW!

>>9639157
Gnarly and bold, it's great
>>9640737
This could've been great but you lost the will to finish and kinda stumbled at the end but I guess that gives it a charm
>>9639209
good

>>9639210
You really painted an image in my mind

Meh

>>9639213
Meh it would've been better if you hadn't "who he had been" so often

It's ok but it could've been a lot better

>>9639380
good

It was my intention, when I began, to write an introduction to my work on the Germans. Though its thick folders lie beside me now, I know I cannot. Endings, instead, possess me . . . all ways out.

Embarrassed, I'm compelled to smile. I was going to extend my sympathy to my opponents. Here, in my introduction, raised above me like an arch of triumph, I meant to place a wreath upon myself. But each time I turned my pen to the task, it turned aside to strike me.

As I look at the pages of my manuscript, or stare at the books which wall my study, I realize I must again attempt to put this prison of my life in language.

It should have been a simple ceremony: a wreath to honor death and my success—the defense of my hypothesis concerning Germany.

And when I wrote my book, to whom was I writing if not the world? . . . the world! . . . the world . . . the world is William welshing on a bet; it is Olive sewing up the gut of a goose; it is Reynolds raping Rosie on the frat-house stair; it is a low blow, a dreary afternoon, an exclamation of disgust. And when I wrote was I writing to win renown, as it's customarily claimed? or to gain revenge after a long bide of time and tight rein of temper? to earn promotion, to rise above the rest like a loosed balloon? or was it from weak self-esteem? from pure funk, out of a distant childhood fear or recent shame? . . . the world . . . the world, alas. It is Alice committing her Tampax to the trash.

>>9640875
bad

>>9640917
ok

The philosophy department at UNE Ganymede employed twelve men, four women, and ten transgender aliens in the terrestrial autumn of 2678. it so happened that the sixteen human emp[employees were all members of one polygamous domestic unit, receiving the benefits and burdens that came with this arrangement. The aliens, reproducing either asexually or by manufacturing new units mechanically in specialized fabricators unavailable in the Sol sector, did not have marital status or anything like it. These 26 employees had two jobs: to lecture and to apologize.

This isnt my 'actual' writing, but is more like a sketch for a story im working on, trying to pin down a style and vibe.

For the first time in a long time, people began to discover magic again. At first, it was like the air was a different color or thickness or something. Slowly, normalcy was transformed into oddity, which soon enough came to rest like fog trapped beneath the tunneled trees of wide suburban avenues. Things stirred in dark alleys, under ivy, and out of crawl spaces. The night became somehow less lonely alone, and teemed with ancient mystery. Birds began to hatch elaborate schemes for the relocation of a large bag of birdseed from under one old woman’s awning to an undisclosed location, perhaps deep in the forest or in the attic of the old abandoned warehouse (which was rumored to be the meeting place of cult or secret fraternal order or something). People danced wildly in the streets, as if possessed by ancient ancestors from unknown lands. All parties were planned according to the alignment of the stars, sun, and moon—with constellations used to determine theme, location, what brand of beer to buy. Smoke offerings to deities long (and still) asleep began to drift skyward, and even the busiest of businessmen covertly wore crystal pendants under their suits. My neighbor purchased several geese, named them, raised them in their backyard, explained to them that they must be eaten, then sang them Celtic songs while snapping their necks. I received a tupperware container filled with a delightful goose-noodle-soup, which possessed extraordinary healing properties. Anyway, it was a strange time.

But then this stirring or whatever began to coalesce into something more imminent, and wholly out of our control. Besides the ever-growing number of paranormal encounters reported by acquaintances, shop-keepers etc., I began to notice some very concrete changes. On my morning commute (a mile’s walk through my old neighborhood of professors, students, charlatans, and hippies) I saw nine cats gathered in a wide circle, seemingly in silent conference. The clocks in my home began to run at different rates, even my phone skipped or repeated whole minutes, sometimes reporting “TODAY” as the weekday. While I am neither punctual or particularly invested in the doings of cats, it was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the mounting supernatural crisis.

Jack Benny screams
"What has a palm tree got to do with anything"
I wonder that also
As the sun sets on Berryessa,
And the acid starts to kill us

I was the first to go: tangled in lake kelp and swallowed whole
The moon’s light just a tea candle against the night;
Ought this dead limb bring me ashore?
Was my final contemplation
But the world answered me: no

A long stagger to the cabin finds
the others, statues now,
prostrate on orange rugs
I sip from a large jug of wine (still full) and
listen to our synapses melt in symphonic unison-
all the while
A single song rotates from the stereo,
one play after the next:
Lucien, Lucien, Lucien, Lucien
You should know.

>>9640983
bad

>>9640994
>or something
>or whatever
Might as well use ', like,' as punctuation.

It wiggled around and squirmed in the palms of the young girl. The boys watched in amazement at what she was doing moreso because they themselves despite being praised for their ruggedness would hesitate to engage in such a foolish act.

She ate a caterpillar of the most deadly variety preventing it from going through metamorphisis and living a long life, yet perhaps that prevention was true liberation. Neither would this caterpillar suffer the pain of migration or attaining a mate, instead this young creature would enter into it's eternal slumber earlier than it's many brother's and sister's. Not at the beak of a falcon or the talons of a sparrow nor at the soles of a man but rather at the salivating tongue of a young girl.

>>9639094
Bad

>>9641023
>earlier than it's many brother's and sister's
Just fucking shoot me

>>9640991
good

I don't think I've ever been a kid. All my life I had been exposed to the operating room of adulthood and the responsibilities that were expected of an adult. Childhood toys were just skeuomorphs of their mature counterparts. When the kids gathered around primary school and played "house" I was pronounced the father of the house.
I was the same age as my teacher; mentally in primary school and physically in high school. I wore "adult" clothing and spoke with consonance. I knew how to write a check and how to sneak out of class by using white-lies to get to either my house or the bathroom.

Maybe that is why I haven't matured from those days.

>>9641033
good

>>9640851
I don't know what the fuck kind of college you go to

>>9641027
good

>>9641033
Comfy

>>9640988
bad

>>9640988
good

She had sat in the bar quietly nursing drinks since the bar had been loud in the summer heat of last night, staying in her seat listening to the beautiful dyn of the drunks and gentlemen. Now the sun was tearing itself away from the horizon and burned through the windows of the bar. Blue smoke curled through the air, cut through by the orange glow, the whole of the establishment was cast in that burnt orange the light took on as it passed through the city’s smog. The man she had met a couple nights ago never showed, she wasn’t necessarily shocked so she wasn’t necessarily sad either, being stood up is somewhat of a necessary evil in love after all. She didn’t bother checking the time to see how long she’d been sitting there. She rested her cheek on her hand and took another look around. Her tired eyes saw men outside walking their way to work and wondered whether or not a place like this served breakfast as well. The veterans of the previous night were scattered around the bar, now too sober or too asleep to talk to the strangers they thought so beautiful the night before. She smiled. “They must.”

>>9641028
good

>>9640546
>. And so when they insulted him

bad

>>9641090
good, but also possibly bad(?)

>>9640546
>comma galore

whatever it's good

I wonder what I’m doing, what I should do. I look at Michael “hey lets… uh”. Its hot here, too hot and the windows are open and it’s not helping. I’m sweating so I feel a distaste for myself in more ways than one. I wish Chase was here. This is about the same as being by myself because the only other person here can’t get off finding the next song and “hey what about this girl should I swipe”. As if there weren’t girls right in front of us. But they feel wrong and off to me, like we are to different to be able to have sex. And then what’s the point? Why am I alone. Am I too serious, I can fuck around I don’t care. God fuck this. Why can’t I talk to someone or anyone talk to someone else right now. I feel claustrophobic, pushed against the bed or wall or body by the space their photos need. I want to leave.

>>9641101
good

I float through the city,
Exactly two feet off the ground
Above black spots of gum
Enough to hit my head on every door frame

Two feet off the floor
My neck snaps every train ride
Hair gets caught in chandeliers
Crotch gets headbutted

There’s gold in my ribs and soup in my valves,
Lungs filled with warm friendly tar.
Seven inches below that
Are pipes filled with human shit.

If you split me down the middle though,
I’m not sure exactly what you’d see.
You might crack my bones, drain my veins
And find glitter and silver, or salt and iron.

When I’m called into some gothic building to pay
For the tar and cum and bloodshot eyes I’ve found
They’ll pull my skin back and tally the debris
In my tubes and ropes

My whole catalogue of minerals and fluids will be laid bare
Things naked eyes have never laid eyes on.
Muggy days and bad nights and dim mornings spread on a table
Salt and smiles will streak my face
Stern looks will steal theirs.

>>9641107
I've never said this before but you actually need more commas

What was that again? That sound? Wow is me! There was darkness. The hell of all men cralwed inside us like a maggot in a corpse. There was nothing but the end, and terrible itching. Wheat fields glowing from the crimson rays of the falling moon; bleeding. Forget me all. Who was the sinner once more? Forgive the man who touched the air he cannot see.

File: IMG_5040.jpg (24KB, 200x200px) Image search: [Google]

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Look how hard everyone tries to sound clever. Keep it simple.

>On the subway, a hacede was eating grapes from a small bag. Avery gazed intently. His stomach growled. His mother, the slutty Goy, had forgotten to pack him a lunch. 'My mom is retarded,' he said to the Hacede, who didn't respond because his mouth was filled with grapes.

Mfw that's more entertaining than anything in this entire thread.

>>9641115
Really, because, I, was taught the opposite, but I dunno run on sentences and vs comme fiesta. I screw around with my english enough that I don't kn0w what's correct or incorrect anymore

lol everyone is diluting my opinion by imitating me..my only criteria for whether something is good or bad is whether i want to keep reading it or not...if i reach the end and i don't care about reading another word of it then i'll call it bad...if i want to read more/know more then i'll call it good...anyways...
>>9640991
bad
>>9640994
bad...the goose snapping person was maybe interesting tho

>>9641004
bad/weird/boring

>>9641023
good

>>9641033
bad...skeuomorph is a very odd word too. i wasn't sure what speaking with consonance meant either, like in rhythmic way??
>>9641086
bad
>>9641110
yeah...i liked this one quite a bit..very urgent sounding..
>>9641113
bad

>>9641162
Yes, keep them short.

>Lancelot dug in without mercy, thrusting with all his strength into Arthur. "Dig THAT one out!" He whispered in his royal ear, smiling, very happy with the clever quip.

Motionless i am in the valley of movement,my eyes draw the horizon with the brush of limit
I am a nest that time built to rest, i am the voices inside my own head. i am the seeds of tranquility planted in the wars of my chest, every heart beat produces a line of destruction that separates life and death. still standing statically looking at the rest, they all look the same, flesh that moves and talks with no words or hears without the sense of listening, makes me pity them, how cruel is it to be just another one, how cruel is it to be born in a place where you don't get to choose your name or how you look, thoughts are implanted in your head from the tears that experience sheds, you cannot create, you just assemble your thoughts with sorrow and produce art, you kill time to receive pleasure.

>>9641189
>my only criteria for whether something is good or bad is whether i want to keep reading it or not
Then why would you even make this thread?

Once again I woke up with a crick in my neck. I rolled over in the bed and took a quick inventory of my body. My neck was a bit stiff from how I had been lying on the pillow. I was tired, so very tired. The exhaustion behind my eyes wasn't abated from the two hour long nap that the alarm had informed me had just passed. The sun pouring through the blinds could be held partially accountable for that, but it had accomplices.

I took a deep breath and became aware of the ticking of the clocks throughout the house. The clock on the night stand of my parents, whose house I was sitting, was ticking lightly but faithfully like the German engineering that it had been crafted from. The grandfather clock down the hall in the living room ticked in the same time, adding its voice of deep age to the ensemble. A small clock somewhere in the closet of the spare bedroom ticked, slightly off from the main beat in time but not in tempo. Somewhere in the attic a larger clock could be heard every few ticks, making itself known only when the house was quiet.

Seeking a distraction from the time, I felt the bed creak loudly as I rose to a sitting position and glanced at my phone. It was 3:03 in the afternoon. The countdown towards dusk had begun again. I didn't know if I could tough it out again, but I knew that I had to. Ignoring the groaning of several sore spots on my body I pivoted my feet out from under the covers and tested them on the floor. There was a loud creak as my body popped along with the floor. Then I was on my feet, stretching my limbs and moving to prepare for night time. For the next siege that I would have to sit through.

>intro to a short story
>first rough draft

>>9641200
b/c i felt like reading peoples' stories instead of playing videogames to waste my time, and i wanted to be able to pronounce judgment too

>>9641199
bad
>>9641203
bad

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>intro to current short story im writing
>any hope?

>>9641194
is this your writing? anyways, i do like it

>>9641189
Sandra and Elizabeth smiled at this interesting development

Lars and his cat Ian had been missing for over a month but their arrival had brought with them a new guest. Minette was an old dog, possibly in her teens but nonetheless a beautiful soul, however despite her beauty she was at an age with which caution was required. Boris was much more interested in playing with Ian which brought the question up...is age the only factor which determines how much care an animal should get

Teresa's dog was not a puppy however she gave her dog a fair amount of freedom and didn't worry about whether or not it ran into the street. Perhaps though her lack of care was far more harmful to Eric, the pup was prone to biting Sandra if she ever came near it.

>>9641023
bad

>>9641226

if ppl drop their bitcoin wallets i'd send a small tip your way for a thorough crit

He smiled sitting on those stairs

Amidst the concrete and small sparrows he managed to forget briefly and was even blessed for a moment with a small dose of newfound knowledge

If this trend continued there was a chance he would truly forget what he wished to forget completely and perhaps through those actions he might be blessed with a new venture, just as he had to try to remember the name of that long forgotten species in the state he was in his current thoughts would also be forgotten so much that it would truly require effort on his part in order for him to re-learn and to remember

>>9641199
Is this ironic? Who the fuck comes up with this absolute garbage? Try actually writing something.

>>9639848
you ARE the next Hemingway to be honest

A bird birded in the birdbath. We are all of us brothers. Avery watched his idiot father walk down the sidewalk, off to work. The sky was dark and ominous.

'This is the fifth morning in a row I've woken up without an erection.'

Odysseus, lying beneath the windowsill, stared dumbly.

'Fucking cats never listen. I told you, I am having trouble erecting. And what do you do? You sit there, catting like a fucking cat.'

Suddenly the earth disappeared, an de everyone died horribly.

The next morning, Avery received a letter from his grandfather in Argonne. It read: "This war is not awesome. Did the jews invent televisions yet? Tell your grandma I'm too old to be fighting her wars."

A screaming came across Avery's purview. The bird in the birdbath was eviscerated. Blood and innards were strewn across the back deck, which Avery could see from his window.

'Finally,' he whispered.

>>9641226
good...are they criminals or escaped convicts or something?
>>9641255
bad
>>9641318
bad

>>9641346
um...bad...confused

>>9641162
God the miserable thing is this elitist spunkmonkey is right.

>>9641355

If by bad you mean the aesthetic realm harmonized with God's essence, then I agree with your assessment, friendo.

>>9641318
Overwrought

>>9641346
Unfunny

This will seem a little stale to a 4chan audience but I'm hoping normies will find this a little funny and scary.

It described itself as a board for politics and current events but in practice it was a board about extreme nationalism and bigotry. Here Pepe often took the form of a Nazi or klansmen, although they had a special name for Pepe. Thay believed that Pepe was the Egyptian god of primordial darkness, Kek and that he granted the board with the power of "meme magic" with which to alter the world as they saw fit through a ritual they called "shitposting."

At first I thought it was ridiculous, as any rational person would. However, as time went on I noticed that their "shit posting" would always come true. whatever wild fantasy was discussed would come true just a few days later and they were the only people I saw that we're expecting Trump to win the election. They're meme Magic wasn't just limited to the political system however, they had a uncanny sense of when and where the next terrorist attack would occur which they called "retribution against the normies." I felt a need to intervene, but my words seemed to land mostly on deaf ears. Their sponsors mostly homophobic slurs with the nicest user telling me that I had "done goofed" by providing my email while posting. I thought the email field was a form of registration or verification. Looking back on it, I realize it was naive of me to think 4-channel had any mechanism to hold its users accountable. The worst response was from the user posting an image of Pepe holding a pistol, it read:

"Normies are not the first or the Last of Earth's Masters. Where normies once ruled Kek shall rule again. What you call 'normal' is a fleeting dream the world war soon wake from. We suffered greatly under Normie oppression and on the day of the Rope we shall have our revenge. America will fall, the European Union will fall and in its place Kekistan will rise. We are Anonymous. We do not forgive. We do not forget. Expect us."

I need to stop writing short stories about memes.

>>9641226
you need to make it more clear what's happening before I could tell you if the story is worth continuing or not.

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10KB, 561x505px

>>9641349

Thanks. They're industrial painters, who've just received a phone call on their lunch break leading them to believe they've won a radio sweepstakes for a minority share in a casino chain. They're easily impressionable, and haven't yet realized they've fallen for a telemarketing advance pay scam. The story will briefly follow a series of hurry-up-and-wait events on their way to redeem their prize. All the while they never lose their sense of anticipation, as they wait for something that will never come.

(I'm the .png, btw)

>>9641400

I'm the .png post, see my exegesis here:
>>9641419

>>9641419
You are actually good. Don't quit.

>>9641363
i mean it wasn't appealing to me

>>9641400
bad

>>9641370
Unfunny? I chuckled.

>>9641419
oh ok, i didn't get any of that from what i read lol..still like it tho
really nice poem too...

>>9641425
>>9641434

Thank you, both. Yes I'll be sure to unravel the subtext as I go along.

>>9641422
really you wrote that pepe thing too? hmmm...well i'm confused b/c i didn't like that but i liked the other ones...

>>9641441

God no, lol. I just meant the image post (.png) about the painters.

>>9641419

Not good; the lines lack compression and economy.

>>9641451

The poem, or the short story that post follows from?

I agree with your crit about the poem, don't know why I decided to attach it. It's pure garbage. I'm more concerned about the short story (image post).

File: op001.png (191KB, 908x1261px) Image search: [Google]

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>how's this interlude in a collection of loosely related short stories/flash fics?

>>9641450
ok haha...that would have made me question my judgment quite a bit if you were the author of both those pieces since they seem so different

Tonight the film was “Sherman’s March.” They had one more night to practice after this so Robert wasted no time on the documentary. He strode into the bar and looked about for Clara as he headed for the stage. There was just the creepy gangster again.
“Dame’s not here yet,” the gangster said.
“Right,” said Robert. He climbed up and started warming up on the piano. Thinking of last night made him start to itch almost. It was embarassing, really. He played a few measures with a blank mind. It only took a few measures before he heard graceful footsteps behind him. He stopped and turned around on the hard piano seat. She was there in the same clothes as last night.
“Ready?” She said, cocking her head and smiling.
“Could you play something melancholy?” The gangster had found his way to his seat with his bottle. He wasn’t drunk yet. Clara gritted her teeth.
“Miss Celie’s Blues?” Robert suggested.
“We’re not a big band Robert!”
“My Foolish Heart?”
“Isn’t that instrumental?”
“Yeah but…”
“I’ll improvise.”
“Give me a moment,” Robert tentatively felt out the song, and then began to recall it, “Go!”
Clara sang a wordless song over Robert’s playing. The high, haunting voice mixed with the song like a miracle, as if it had meant to be this way. Robert closed his eyes.
But then he heard Clara scream. There was an incredible pulse of noise. Did she fall? He stopped playing. Clara’s pale face was covered in flecks of redness, her mouth hanging open, breathing heavy. He followed the gaze of her brown eyes to the gangster, who had just blown out his brains with an unheathily large pistol. It had fallen neatly into his lap.
“Oh Jesus!“ he said. Clara sat down, biting her nails. Some armed men stormed into the room shouting. They looked around, noticing nothing.
“What happened?” one barked.
“He uh, shot himself sir.” Robert said.

>>9641464
no, i don't like it
>>9641485
i don't care for the writing...i think ending on a cliff hanger is cheap too, still i do want to know what is coming next

>>9641033
Reminds me of that DFW story

>>9641535
>still i do want to know what is coming next
I can post a little more, if you like, but it is an excerpt from a larger story.

A teacher addresses his class during the usual hour and a half of study - currently, it was, a review on a test that had already been taken the day before.
He states “Question 7,” and then goes on to add: “What does the author mean when he gives the extended metaphor in lines 15-28?”
The class responds with a ubiquitous cacophony of “E! E! EEE!”
The teacher smiles and nods in response.
He says “Correct. What a smart class.”

Last night I drove to Harper's Ferry and I thought about you. There were signs on the road that warned me of stop signs. The speed limit kept decreasing by 10 as we entered a town about halfway there. It was almost raining at the train station. We put our hoods on our heads at the train station. We threw rocks into the river--the river underneath the train tracks. And when the train came it was so big and powerful. When it came into the little station I wanted to put my arms around it, but the conductor looked at me funny.

So we had to say goodbye and leave; the Monopoly board still in the backseat. Took that nightmare left turn to get out of town; ran into decreasing speed limits again.

>>9641621
Not OP, but this held my interest, the only thing I dislike is the final paragraph.

It sounds like something The Mountain Goats would write.

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wah bou dis ?

Like him was I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. My childhood bends beside me. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or lightly. Mine is far and his secret as our eyes. Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be dethroned.

dickfingers

Watch out for the tendrils” I heard in the back ground of the heated assault. The battle was hot and we were losing ground fast. Everyone around us was bloody, irate, desperate and growing weary. Those of us who were under the age of twenty-five had never been in all out battle before. Maybe we had a blood lust naturally, maybe even metaphorically. However this was a level of mayhem we had never known. It was more terrifying taking into account the fact that not long ago each of those among was a person each had never known. The enemy we faced was one many of us had never known. They say knowledge is power and, they say those who know re illuminated. Then how was it that as we fought for the light we were being beaten badly. This wasn’t a story book darkness could very well prevail, and we all could die. “Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrwr!” I snarled as I clamped my jaws around my attacker’s neck, feeling their throat and nape on my teeth. I felt my fangs slicing harshly through their flesh, blood spilling out with desperate cries. I bit down harder, harder and even harder until only one third of his neck remained between my fangs from tip to tip. ”Grrrrr!” SNAP! THUD! As I removed the head from the body with my jaws covered in blue stains I watched the corpse fall and the head roll away. That was my seventh head, third by oral decapitation.

>>9639167
I thought it was pretty entertaining anon. Then again I'm a sucker for first person snark.

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>>9639094

Uhh, heh.

Well.

>>9639340
I don't understand this, but I like it.

>>9639363
This was pretty interesting anon.

No one gives it to you. You have to take it.

Non serviam.

>>9640611
How is this possible?
Are we being snooped on like an unfaithful nun with cardinal cum on her bum?

I sat down. It was time to shitpost some more.
A new thread. They tell others to post a sample of their writing and they critique it. Oddly generous of them.
I will write something down to appease them, but not yet. I'll have to eat lunch soon.

>>9642348

actually laughed at that one. well, chuckled. it was pretty lowbrow. stop namefagging

>>9640611
It's someone trying to make the domain seem populated, so that they can sell it.

>>9639094
Se olió las manos, olían a colillas de cigarrillo y mierda de perro, la cabeza se sentía palpitante debajo del cráneo. Caminó tambaleándose hasta la casa de los bomberos, era menos de la mitad del recorrido que hacía con su hermano antes de que los paras lo mataran, se sintió como una caminata de mil años, las lágrimas le tapaban los ojos y por primera vez dejó de importarle que la gente lo viera llorar.

File: BattleScars.png (363KB, 1512x2992px) Image search: [Google]

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Bit long, I know. If you don't feel like reading all of it, just pick a random section and give me an opinion on that.

>>9639094
She felt pinned to the ground, the weight on her back making her breathing shallow and rapid. A sudden, crashing noise came from the corridor and the Raccoon turned to face it, lifting some weight off it's heavy boot. She lunged forward, freeing herself and started crawling, trying to stand up and run. The Raccoon turned back, surprised and narrowed its beady eyes, growling angrily. It barely stopped itself from going on all fours to pursue, instead bursting into a sprint. It was closing in and just as the girl was slowing down around a corner, the mutated mammal leaped , claws outstretched catching her by the ankle and slamming her down on the cool marble floor. There was a loud, clicking sound as her brow connected with the hard floor, and she lay still. A small pool of blood was growing around the girl's head, and all to be heard was the Raccoon, catching its breath. It checked her pulse; she lived. It loaded her over its strong shoulder like a sac and headed back to camp; she would have to do.

>>9639094
Frannie took a long draw from her menthol and ran a hand under her baby bump. Her short dark hair riffled in the Wal Mart parking lot breeze while waiting for Eddie, who was just coming out with bags of value priced groceries.

Eduardo saw her standing in her jean shorts, too-small tee, and pale Ohio skin. He knew it would be difficult raising another man's child, but goddamn the snapping pussy was worth it.

>>9642571
very readable

>>9639351
>>9642237
thanks guys, i have been experimenting a little with a new style. it only really works when i am up late at night and go into a manic state. but sometimes i write something sort of interesting and it surprises me when i wake up in the morning.

Summer came not too long after. Friday I received an eviction notice. I must leave within seven days. I would not profit off of anything nor would I be compensated for this act. Everything from my furnishings were to be repossessed. It was at that point I reached my lowest. Father’s gun never looked so merciful before. The choice was tempting.
But it wasn’t until that day, a stranger dressed in black entered my establishment. He did not question the gun I held in my hand. Only of my time. I told him I could no longer work… but he gave me something that he promised would benefit me greatly than the previous craftsman of clockworks. He told me the man who used to own this piece died before he could unlock how the mechanisms for this clock worked. And thus he came to me in the hopes that I would discern it.
When I looked at the clock however… I refused to call it anything as such resembling a clock. It was a crusty, rusted, metallic sphere of peculiar circular shapes and designs. Opening it revealed impossibly complex works of gears and machinery that I could not for the life of me, comprehend. None of the gears were moving. I had thought it to be due to the rather atrocious design mechanics. I sought to return it back to the man, but he refused, and only told me that ‘I should look harder. It may not seem possible but those gears can and will work in conjunction.’
How could they? There were no more questions for me to ask as he had already left the premise when he was done. I turned to this puzzling contraption once more. Curiosity became my enemy. Economics no longer mattered.
The first day, I closed and opened the contraption again and again. Each time I closed it, I tried to twist and turn it around with no avail. I had thought it to be a manual contraption but the gears on either end of the sphere prevented it from such. Even when I sought to twist in the opposite direction. Though nothing but anxiety inducing was this nefarious puzzle.

>>9643106
bad
>>9642571
bad...crass
>>9642541
ok
>>9642498
nothing really happened
>>9642418
i don't know enough spanish to understand..
>>9641975
bad...
>>9641943
seems very disjointed to me...
>>9641927
i don't really like this vulgarity..it's just pointless and depressing
>>9641621
boring...
>>9641605
when does the teacher go insane?

>>9639103
Difficult to read and that's not a good thing

>>9639157
equipped boots?

ONCE UPON A TIME
...in the fields of Faernhaerst, the Baron’s son got into an extended childish feud with Ansel Fouquet Geradin, the son of Yeoman Geradin, head of the Merchant’s Guild. It was a silly thing, the kind of banter exchanged by those too young to understand the true meaning of words. The baron’s son became ill with a strange black pox around the chest, some Eastern disease carried by the marsh mosquitoes, though this was known only to scholars beyond the pale of rural knowledge. The location of the Geradin’s prized tannery was attached to a mill overlooking the mossy, settled wet bog. Tart succulents and festive apples lined the gnarled trees, yet these environs were shunned in favor of the tame. Young Ansel was never subject to discipline in school, his curious eyes having eviscerated the entirety of the town’s fledging library. It was here, on an ancient Crusader tapestry, that Ansel could teach himself the Latin rhythms of Catullus by stanza, design a two-meter water clock in the king’s foot that functioned from a 13th century Arab schematic. While his breathtaking ability garnered the attention of the distant city-state’s distinguished new university, Ansel found his calling in the village’s mildly pagan rituals.
Despite the increasing power of the central religious bodies ebbing out into the periphery, the Geradin family knew of the great cosmic battle between good and evil. An angel and a demon clutched each day at the fabric of every man in their isolated society. Regional battles of foreign armies, massacres on the rest day in the county’s jurisdiction, penance in the miniaturized cathedral across from the bakery, pageantry in the Baron’s manor, and the pilgrims in March shaped Faernhaerst into a cultural thoroughfare, if not a populated town. Society was a calamity away from collapse. The rug shifted under the swinging of the Countess Road door. The Baron, poised in the striped yellow and red colors of the Regional Alliance, dropped an apple to the floor as his men helped Ansel down from his perch.
In the midst of the noon heat, the Baron, eyeing the lamentations of his beloved child in the agonies of a malady the finest herbalist could not ail, forsook his old religion. Falling prey to the local superstitions and wailings of his wife and daughter, he took young Ansel in for the revived charge of witchcraft.

I'm a native English speaker who didn't have a traditional education growing up; my math skills are good but I'm not very creative and my grammar is horrible. Any recommended courses to fix my grammar? And creativity? Is there any way to actually be more creative? Everything I've read basically says no/barely but I wonder if anyone here has any new knowledge.

Shakes the water to break the image. He wants to send her away. But each time it recomplies, and returns to its initial state. She looks at him, fixed. It can not disappear; we have to wait for the eclipse, overlapping something new.

People don’t think about this. You don’t plan on dying from cancer. Sure, in the back of your mind it’s always an ugly possibility lurking behind a corner. You think about dying on the highway a lot. Every time you commute to and from work you fantasize about a drunk driver rear-ending you and sending your face flying into the wheel, legs trapped under the dashboard so they break at the femur and your brain bouncing in your head until it is mush and your neck snaps back like a twig. In the moments when you cut someone off or pass a red light trying to ride the yellow you think how you could have died. In these scenarios you are painfully aware you’d be the bad guy in the newspaper tomorrow: driver exits the driveway and collides with oncoming traffic, family of four dead.

You don’t think about cancer.

You think about surprise heart attacks and overdoses every time you have a guy's night out and mix drugs and alcohol. You think about plane crashes during takeoff and before landing; about the garage door falling on you; black ice, and dying in a bar fight every time you see someone with face tattoos. On the news you hear about freak accidents — falling pianos, exotic flea bites, super-bacterial antibiotic resistant diseases and after sex you think about AIDS but then you remember it’s not the 80’s and you don’t sleep with junkies as far as you know. All this time you don’t really think about cancer. Cancer is something which happens to other people, people older than you, and it happens to women a lot, but not you. And then you have cancer and you might die.

>>9643666
>People don’t think about this. You don’t plan on dying from cancer.
This reads like that pasta from reddit

I couldn't read anymore

Only one enemy remained; two if you counted Dog.

William tried not to slip on grey ice as he rushed under the shelter of the bus stop. He brushed the snow from his coat, and checked the arrival sign. The 521 bus to London Bridge wouldn't arrive for another 20 minutes. As the way things were, it was unlikely the bus would even arrive at all. He looked up. Snow continued to fall as people went on their business. It wasn't surprising. The last snowfall of this scale had been from two decades ago, and despite the abnormal weather, Londoners still managed to not give a toss.

>>9643340
>nothing really happened
okay. Well of all possible answers, that one I wasn't expecting. But I guess that's the whole point of posting my work here.

>>9639094

I wrote this four years ago. I'm a little better now. I'm just curious to see what is thought.

Know it's not good. Curious about thoughts on themes and intercharacter interaction.

http://lobotobots.deviantart.com/art/Alcoholics-379381692

>>9639094

---Opening paragraph playing with words and using the dictionary as a template---

It was an unusually windy day, with great gusty gales threatening to tear from her hands the indelible imprint of an irrevocable diagnosis. She was confronted with possibilities that distinctively characterized in precise terms the nature of a seemingly phenomenological oddity. Of course, more curious was the proclivity for novel diagnostic labels to appear synchronously affixed with pharmaceutical elixirs promising to cure the formerly incurable.

At the time of her diagnosis, Lo had just entered her late twenties, but the disease (she was beginning to suspect) had it's genesis in her earlier teen years.


---Short story that keeps the disease a mystery for readers to guess with a "twist" on what it actually is as told through reminiscent vignettes narrated from present circumstances--

>>9644333
Not OP, but I'm missing the theme. As far as characters, they seem static and the relationship forced.

>>9643340
Just saying 'bad'' does not really help me understand here.

>>9639266
>sin
Dropped. Not original in any way

>>9639279
Fuckin lolled at the ending

>>9639310
Fuckin newmen

>>9639848
it had an effect on me.

>>9639380
One of those pieces where i skip to the end and it makes me wanna read the rest so i start over from the beginning. 6/10. Style is good, some details are unnec, the two scenes arent very related, there needs to be a stronger buildup to the line about knowing letters. But the end was nice.

>>9639157
Too much adjectives that are not fuctional to the reading
.

>>9639340
I like the musically of the self streaming part, good manage of the speed.

>>9642418
Está bien ágil, quizá más énfasis en las circustancias de su las penas del personaje podría generar una mejor punzada emocional.

>>9639094
Yo listen up here's a story
About a little guy that lives in a blue world
And all day and all night and everything he sees is just blue
Like him inside and outside
Blue his house with a blue little window
And a blue corvette
And everything is blue for him
And himself and everybody around
'Cause he ain't got nobody to listen

I'm blue da ba dee da ba daa
Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa
Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa

I'm blue da ba dee da ba daa
Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa
Da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa, da ba dee da ba daa

>>9643442
too hard to follow...lots of allusions and seems like a fairly deep world tho

>>9643587
um...i feel like i'm doing a school assignment trying to figure out what you're talking about.

>>9643666
i don't like stories about illness...

>>9643729
ok, this is fine

>>9644695
too many words

>>9644765
and you think i owe you understanding?

>>9644919
bad

>>9644917
wow, gracias!!

File: Coin Story.png (63KB, 932x720px) Image search: [Google]

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Beginning of my fantasy story

>>9645425

You use too many words and you give up information like a slut.

File: trespassers.png (408KB, 500x500px) Image search: [Google]

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>>9639094
Saintly sinners shared seats and secrets over succulent sweets, singing superficial sadness and scheming sinister sincereties, sinking a sailing ship like a Sunday sweetheart sent to sea. Senior senators sacrificed state security for silver spoons, and the sick smell of soldier suicides was swiftly smothered by secret societies.

And then there was you.

You came along and threw things out of balance. Sure, your feet hurt and your lungs burned and your eyes wept, but when you finally had the truth there was no more tiptoeing, misdirection, betrayals. There was no money, no force, and no power that could stop you now - just twenty feet of empty air, nothing more, and you were gaining on the son of a bitch. The law is mocked, the law is disobeyed, but the law is not defeated, and your unspoken testament echoed in his ears every time your shoes pounded the pavement. We can see it now - a jury that would skin him alive, a judge that championed justice over mercy, and an executioner that would sum it all up. Smell that fear; he can see it too.. All you have to do is run.

And the whole time, those fateful words ringing in both your heads,

MY NAME IS OZYMANDIAS, KING OF KINGS
LOOK ON MY WORKS YE MIGHTY AND DESPAIR

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And his brains scattered throughout, thoroughly cooked. Like a deadbeat orgasm that's too lazy to pop instead of being gargled out. My pistol's weight caught up to me, and I lowered my arm. His body had a crooked stiffness to it, one that kept my attention caressed and breast fed for a moment before I heard naked heels slapping across the concrete. I looked up, and there he was. The firefighter who gave my son a greasy Walkman for his fifteenth birthday. He was as well dressed as his feet, and my attention had found a new breast: his scorched...well, everything. He collapsed onto the body, leaving a few puddles of Puerto Rican behind himself where his feet had strained. Looking at them both, I realized something. But it was all entangled by a constant need to relate it to the real world and its issues. Never played the saxophone again.

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The City of Flags.

I see it when my thoughts lay still, nervously fettered with fear and watching. Her rolling hills, encaved spaciously beneath our wandering eyes, spangled with bannerstaff like tombs o’er a graveyard. Covith Lut and its army of heralds, huddled in shadow around their dyed gods, pagan idols born from our sentiments - I feel their hope echo within me, and it is horror for me to know their innocence may ruin us all.

Our mission tonight feels juvenile, sized up against the stakes and sacrifices at hand. The bell of Covith Lut has fallen into the possession of a single man - Douglas Sharper. We cannot allow its corruption to spread. Anthony will go to Sharper’s home and do what he must. I am to enter his club and destroy the bell, along with any who are tainted by its dread toll. Many innocent people will die. This is the fault of none but ourselves; we who had forsaken the bell when we had scarcely understood its power. How ignorant we were.

We’ve tried so hard to get this far, but we understand the reality of our situation. It must all be in vain.

When I consider my death, all I see are the flags of Covith Lut.

Emotions are chemicals

Temporary.

If we remembered emotions like we remember memories

no one would ever make the same mistakes.

>>9647236
bad and non factual

>>9647236
u can remember emotions brother

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>>9639257
>>9639261

>>9639094
He was 22, he killed 22; a life for each year alive. Yet that wasn’t enough. And now he has a chip. A single chip which could bring the house to its knees. That’s what he wanted. See they decimated his world so he did what all good creatures do: adapted. The balance was broken. It was only black and white.

His name was Haider. He was king of his environment and ruled it with an iron fist. Intelligent, charismatic and highly resourceful. That’s how he obtained the chip. The chip has a name too, it’s Corporal Lance Chesterton. Haider used his resources to catch Lance on his ‘off-time’. He was about to fuck a prostitute. Haider showed up instead. Secured his chip for a price of course. That was the easy part. The hard part is playing your chip right. Every chip is potential. Once you’ve pitched it in there is no turning back.

The start to a short story. Be brutal please. I want to improve.

>>9640611
>>9642401
uh
sage

Everything I've written in the last two years has been for a novel and I'm not sharing that here but here's something older of mine that I really like.

My phone lights up when Ally says Hi. Two days ago when I messaged her first it took her four minutes to reply. I open the facebook messenger app (which I almost ironically held onto longer than the actual facebook app) without opening the message so she doesn’t get the read receipt until later. In this case, later means six minutes from now. If I respond in four minutes she knows I’m a semi-sociopath. If I respond in five minutes she knows I’m a one-upping semi-sociopath. If I respond in seven minutes I’m an inconsiderate twat. I respond hi in exactly six minutes and nearly piss myself when I read the words Active now. For exactly six minutes my messenger app displayed my active status for Ally to see. I think to explain that I was messaging someone else but I quickly realize I made a point to Ally the day before that I really only use kik and traditional text messaging. She responds whatcha doin and I exhale. From her previous messages I know her phone automatically capitalizes the first letter of a sentence. Ally unshifted to project a sense of ease she does not possess. Why is she uneasy? I’m a weirdo. But she messaged me first and Ally wouldn’t engage a known weirdo. She doesn’t know I’m a weirdo. She wants me. Maybe she does this to everyone. I scroll through my camera roll and find the messaging screenshots Ally sent me the day before. A boy named Tristan messaged Ally asking if she’s down for the dick. Ally responded No. Capital No. I again scroll through my camera roll and select the picture of my penis most appropriate for the circumstances. A bird’s-eye view is perfect. It accentuates the girth and leaves the length a mystery. Both my length and my girth are above average, but I know from the sixteenth page on her now-inactive tumblr that Ally is probably in the 86th percentile for sketching skills, and probably understands foreshortening enough to guess that my penis is longer than what the perspective warping suggests. I hit send. Ally responds in under a minute. It’s the emoji where the yellow cat has hearts in its eyes. Earlier today Ally told me she likes dogs and hates cats. I told her that in my culture animals either serve a purpose or are served as appetizers. I ask if she's up for Wing Stop tomorrow. I know she can’t stand chicken from the day before when she told me she had a food poisoning experience in her childhood that turned her off of chicken for life. She responds yes.

>>9649526
guess how many times you shift tenses in the first three sentences...

>>9639094
JESUS HITLER!!!
ADOLF CHRIST!!!
IS THIS THE SECOND COMING???
OR THE FOURTH REICH??!!

HIS MOTHER, A NUN RAPED BY A NAZI NEAR THE END OF THE SECONG GREAT WAR!!
GAVE BIRTH TO THE SON WHO WILL CHANGE THE FUTURE, FOR BETTER OR WORSE HE IS NOT SURE!!!


I AM WHAT SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN!!
THE ULTIMATE ABOMINATION!!
HAVE I RETURNED TO SAVE THE JEWS???
OR TO DESTROY THEM?!!?

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>>9649720
HEILELUJAH

He threw the papers. They cascaded in flight, landed on the table, and shuffled again upon sliding off. Both monkeys and the Zebra noticed, but he didn't. His mind was somewhere else. It was TOO somewhere else. Focused on the events of last night he shouted its name. "Margar!" This startled the giraffe, but it calmed down before the second more defeated utterance by the man. "Margar..." One monkey farts. The man cries. The other monkey picks up a banana and shoves half of it up a nose. The nose snorts it in and blows it out. Eating the other half, the famished ape starts scouring through the giraffes coat for food. With the free hand it pulls out a flea from the inside pocket and chucks it at the equidae. "Ohhh" the man moans. "Why..." the Zebra looks at the monkey and hee haws a whispered
>"Why'd you throw that?"
>The monkey looks the equidae in the eyes and hee haws a "You're."
>The room was silent in between each of 6 farts that have passed and both apes are now starving eating anything in sight!
>The man has been devoured. His intestinal scraps lay behind the turgid Zebra carcass and it's non existent hind arms. The giraffe had eaten itself in fear of its own life!
>Margar enters.
>Margar leaves.
>Margar disintegrates.
>Margar is trapped within an existential cyclical void not knowing which way is forward.
>Her gaze was a prisoner

>>9639094

>dfw op misuses 'if' instead of 'whether' while using a pic of that particular author

>>9649825
oh well...i'm still good at grammar/english

Yuuji Everylead realized that his life was never going to be the same, the day that he slipped on
a banana peel into his little sister’s giant tits; whereupon he promptly suffocated and died. His
soul immediately went to hell for the sin of being the main character of a light novel. For seventy
millennia, demons would pluck each pubic hair out of his ballsack in random clumps, until it was
clean enough for them to slap it with a paddle that made hard gay moaning sounds. Fallen
angels would watch from the sidelines, giggling at the fate of this poor soul for whom they had
no sympathy, because in heaven, light novels don’t and have never existed.

>>9649688
I mean it all pivots from the first person default but it has to flash back to things in the past. It's all proper, that's not really the question

>>9647104
i think you should make it rhyme too...bad

>>9647130
bad
>>>9647139
bad
>>9647236
bad...also i agree with the poster below
>>9649349
bad...
>>9649526
bad...mindnumbing..it's like bad dfw...tho to be fair if i read some of his stuff out of context i would probably call it bad too (especially that story about the focus groups in oblivion....)
>>9649720
bad...
>>9649820
it's kind of funny...but it's gags strung together imo and i would get tired of it pretty quickly...

>>9649860

The thing is that Wallace wrote a thing about grammar and usage that, among other things, goes into the if-versus-whether issue (the takeaway: if the sentence also contains 'then', then use 'if'; but if it involves 'or', use 'whether'. Just thought the pic and the usage in OP were amusing)

>>9649882
lol @ a paddle that makes hard gay moaning sounds...i don't really like meta stuff tho..so bad

>>9649912
i probably read that at some point too

From my granite balcony I surveyed the depths of my domain. The sky was a bloody orange, flecked with clouds and the rising smoke of burning buildings. People, the size of ants, were torching statues and government buildings with pitchforks, the legacy of my rule. I turned around.

‘Why did you have to do all of this?’, the Hero said, brandishing his sword. ‘Why were you so evil in your rule’.

‘I wasn’t’, I said. ‘I really wasn’t. All this’–I made a sweeping gesture over my city–‘was necessary to my rule. My policies were harsh. I admit it. But for the continued survival of this small country, with goblins in the south and orcs in the north, it had to be done.

‘I’m sorry’, the Hero said as he thrust his blade through my chest, kicking me over the edge of my balcony. ‘You might’ve been a good person, but this is what the people want’.

A roar of approval erupted from my citizens as I fell from grace, plummeting towards the cobbles, below. My last thought was of my failure to the kingdom, my failure to protect it from the myriad of warring nations.

Please be gentle, sempaitachi.

>>9649901
you gonna elaborate on why theirs are bad or just not help them improve?

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Just fuckmeupfam

>>9650127
The perspective is unique, but its a little off for a reason I can't put my finger on. Maybe need more context to identify. But what do i know, my dialogue is the cringiest part in my writing. I actively avoid it for that reason.

>>9650127
Utilitarian hero faces idealistic rebels sounds straight out of a YA novel. Stylistically resembles one too.

>>9650330
The writing is not very bad but the concept has been done to death by this point and nowadays i associate "intellectual overthinking" with too-confident undergrads rather than with russian antiheros

>>9650345

Thanks for the feedback and agreed.

>>9648763
Nuh uh

>>9639340
Fuck this is great. Could you post more?

>>9650127
bad writing... still..in terms of plot it could work as one of the story devices where the story starts in the middle of the action or at the end, and then backtracks to explain how things got to that point...i always liked those.

>>9650328
no.
>>9650330
clumsy writing...don't like the character either. his name sounds like a lovecraft alien (that's not why i don't like him, i'm just saying, b/c it's a weird name)

>>9640617
My fingers were crossed.

I’d spent the night sipping on that wild nectar only the Golden Gai serves up - crystals of amber, holding them up against the sultry light to test their lustre. And, leaving the last of the night behind as I staggered out the door of another unnamed, forgotten hole, I saw her silhouetted against the moonlight.

There she was, black as India ink, bent over a fallen figure, and when she looked up at me her eyes shone like a cat’s.

I had to walk down that forsaken alley, so I did, and as I approached she stiffened. She held her position and waited. As I came close I saw her face, taut with youth, still frozen but with the eyes fixed on me. Her pupils were two pools of endless black peeking out from under her curated bangs, and only the bits of white on the edges gleamed.

“Need me to call a cab?”, I offered.

“No”, she replied simply, “He’ll be fine.”

I had heard the last of the autumn leaves falling onto a crisp bed of snow. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, but it was a voice gentle with the careful weight of its secrets. I couldn’t turn away for fear of breaking the spell it had cast.

I was at the foot of the prone body now, glancing down into her face. Her upturned features reminded me of a child’s. She was facing up as though gazing past me into the heavens, but her eyes were locked firmly onto mine. And into those deep wells I felt myself being drawn in slowly, slowly.

>>9639094
The small medieval castle listened carefully to their distressed liege.
"Turnips!" he bellowed out to the assembled men, "I want turnips for dinner."
They looked wearily at one another. Turnips? Did he really want vegetables for dinner?
"When can I have them?" he yelled out.
"Sire!" one of the clerks carefully approached the subject, "Do you really intend to eat vegetables for dinner?"
"Of course, you imbecile!" his angry retort whipped at the shuddering clerk, "Do you really think I would demand something that I have no interest in?"
"Absolutely not my liege. Your will is clear and obvious, I just wanted to make sure." the clerk hastily said while bowing deeply.
He then turned around to the head chef and yelled in turn, "Bring our lord the best turnips the kingdom has to offer. It's his wish to eat turnips and so he shall."
"With mayonnaise!" the Lord quickly added, holding up a finger.
"With mayo-naise..." the clerk tried to add but lost his composure.
"That will be a meal fit for a king." their lord mused to himself.
None dared say anything. They all looked carefully at their master. Wondering if he would suddenly explain it was a joke or if he would confirm he'd gone insane.
The lord sat down on his throne again. Yawned for a bit before he corrected his clothes to sit back more comfortably.
He raised an eyebrow towards they head chef who realized he probably shouldn't be idling.
"Sire, I ask your permission to return to the kitchen and start the preparations."
"Hurry up lad! I want my turnips today, and when I say today I mean today, and not a day, like tomorrow."
"As you wish my lord." he said while bowing and backing out of the room.
The Lord looked at the assembled men and smiled. They reminded him of turnips.

>>9639094

Snow washed across the crowded barren streets of the desolate Colorado city. The middletown was fairly quiet at this time of night, except for the ever expansive construction sites that were scattered through the work-plenty area. A lone figure could be seen walking though the light blizzard, their face obscured by a thick, furry hoodie. The person held a plastic 7-11 bag in their white knuckled fists. They stopped at a crosswalk and looked both ways at the silent roads, skidding across the asphalt quietly. Air flourished around their thin body, causing their hands to tremble as they walked down the icy concrete. They stopped at a block, the rusted handrail brushing against the tips of his fingers as he stepped carefully on the dry steps. They spoke, finally.
"Guess Jared put some salt on the stairs. Awesome," A high pitched and obviously masculine voice sounded from the figure; their cold hands pulled the hoodie back, revealing a bleach blonde haired and green eyed boy. To the untrained eye, the average person would mistake the boy for an attractive woman. His pale skin glistened in the light of the front door light, grabbing the handle and squeaking the rustic, red pull door open. The boy hurried up another flight of stairs to a numbered door. His numb fingers quickly reached into his pockets and pulled out a set of keys, turning the key and opening the door. Room temperature air blew into his face as he scurried in, a loud sigh of relief crossing his face, "Ah, huh."

>>9639340
Good story praising the Roman work ethics.
It's like the Twilight Saga but with a moral.

>>9641419
The one thing that sticks with me is that I don't think painters would wear raw denim

File: Mark's whale (2).png (44KB, 739x418px) Image search: [Google]

44KB, 739x418px

>>9639094

>>9639094
We both stop walking.
“Enjoying yourself?”
It's been a while since I had this emotion. So much that I was baffled about being baffled. I hesitate, my finger is tensed around the trigger. I can almost hear the rifle shiver.
“Today is a special day for all of us.”
There is no tremble, no fear in the man's voice. The sound is different from what I am used to hearing. I don't hear a fit of despair. I hear indifference, and determination. When I shoot... Where do I shoot? When do I shoot? When I shoot... I will... I must... Why...
“And you know why? We had a surprise for you in store. Good thing you're one step ahead and took matters into your own hands.”
Why did he surrender? Why did he step out the car with his hands up? The world around me has reduced to a blur. I try to focus. All there is is the sun and the man on the highway bridge.
“You are free today, because we need you. The plan was to tell you everything. Over a cup of coffee. Or a cold beer. Or right here. What do you say? It's not too late.”
He's not lying. I lower my weapon slowly. I must think.
“There's a problem we're faced with for some time... We've been looking for someone suitable to fix it. There's someone very special who'd like to meet you. Chances are you and... him have a lot in common.”
I am good at one thing. Decision making. My head clears up, and along with all my doubts I try to erase the bold person in front of me. I raise my weapon.
Where I shoot, a gap is now in place. Not so much one that a rifle creates, the concrete is tearing up. The man is swallowed in rubble and dust.

>>9639340
moaR plx

>>9639363
needs polishing but i kind of like it, clumsy as it is
are you a native english speaker?
how long did you spend on this?

>>9639455
>>9639460
good

>>9639094
“These shacks weren’t made for fires, so how would they keep warm when winter comes? There’s no juice in those lines anymore.” Gesturing vaguely towards the road, where the power lines went alongside it, he figured it was a sensible thought. “We can’t live like we did, with these artificial structures. After winter when the frost thaws, these walls will be full of moisture; it’ll rot away in no time, fill with mold. Hell, even if you brought in a wood stove with legs to keep the body off the ground, punch a chimney through the ceiling, I don’t think I’d trust whatever these rooms are made out of with that kind of intense heat.”

Tiffany’s upper lip pushed down the lower, corners of her mouth turning down in an understanding frown as her head bobbed, eyebrows raised though eyes themselves looking quite casual. Looking over to Nicky, who still looked at him weirdly for suggesting that this primarily Native community was going to make those stereotypical teepees, shrugged her shoulders while giving her look of agreement.

“Seems to make sense…” her gentle voice gave lowly. “Yeah it’s kind of stereotypical, but it’s probably their best bet for surviving the winter with some degree of comfort. Um… how will we handle the winter though, if we’re still traveling? I don’t think we’ll make it to Newfoundland before snowfall.”

“You’re actually taking his bullshit seriously? Fucking teepees and wigwams?! You can’t be serious!”

“I suppose you think it’s racist, do you?...” the man gave, his tone flat and scruffy features unamused that this nonsense could continue. Probably remnants of her old Social Justice Warrior mind set. The thought that a white person would look at a Native community and assume they’ll make traditional habitats which have served them for centuries, no, millennia, is somehow being racist.

“It’s not your fault, white boy. It’s just in your nature.” With a disgusting little condescending smile, her eyes narrowed from the upturned corners of her dark lips, her head cocked to the side a bit as she looked to him.

“White boy…” brown eyes closed with pained disbelief, he laughed to himself and though it sounded forced he could not hold it back; he shook his head as he said the two racially charged words quietly. How many damn times was she going to call him that? How long will she continue to attack the colour of his skin? It was getting quite old. “Why don’t you suck my fucking dick you nigger dyke.” Tiff looked at him with nothing short of utter shock, which was nearly equaled by that coming from her friend. It only lasted a brief moment though, from where they sat on her on one of those simple mattresses on the floor across the room.
“You mother FUCKER!”

>How's that, OP? Might seem edgy, but with the context of what happened in the last couple books I think you'd find the line to be understandable and justified to some degree.

>>9639363
I really liked it, but the Elon musk part is out of place to me. I feel it doesn't fit in with the rest of the poem.

>>9651433
clusmy? what part seemed clumsy to you?

You seem to me like a man on the verge of disappearing, as if one of these days I'll find myself trying to remember your face or your voice but won't quite be able to with enough clarity to scratch that itch. You bareley exist, no friends, n family, no job, no meaningful accomplishments. You're on the road to the gutter where all the crazies, the pariahs and lost end up going once the world forgets them.

There will be no heroic ride into the sunset after all is done, no meaningful death to make a martyr out of you, no, yours be a quiet and gradual descent into non-existence, meaningless and anonymous, a mere collateral consequence to the causes of your undoing. An ant drowned by an ocean's wave.

>>9651928

I don't think that's quite right, but that's just your opinion, isn't it? Or can you tell the future or something? brainlet.

>>9651946
Nah, brother, I wasn't posting that directed at anyone. The thread said to post a piece of writing and that's what I came up with. Didn't mean to offend anyone with it.

>>9639363
Reminds me of Dinosauria, We.

>>9651928
Bleak, not bad at all, just really fuckin bleak.

Sarah's clothes were wet so she went inside so she went inside to take them off. Her dad wasn't home and I went in the house. Sarah was naked and I fucked her on the couch. and on the bed too,

>>9639363
love the 3rd and 5th staanza, rest needs some polishing. cut out the elon musk shit. but rpetty good

File: Cathedral.jpg (160KB, 644x560px) Image search: [Google]

160KB, 644x560px

This is something I wrote in high school about a girl who I went to prom with. I was sickly infatuated with her at the time. It's about a moment of the night when we went up to the Cathedral of St. Paul together.

>>9639094
“Safe, safe, safe,” the heart of the house beats proudly. “Long years—“ he sighs. “Again you found me.” “Here,” she murmurs, “sleeping; in the garden reading; laughing; rolling apples in the loft. Here we left our treasure—“Stooping, their light lifts the lids upon my eyes. “Safe! Safe! Safe!” the pulse of the house beats wildly. Walking, I cry “Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart.”

>>9639213
It's ok but you have a problem with just stating things about the character, which rarely sounds good in creative writing. Something you could do to improve the passage is to remove the pre-colon piece of the sentence "He was quite a mysterious..." because it sounds stupid to just say he was something, and your use of quite sounds bad. Words like pretty, quite, rather, etc can only be used sparingly to sound good, and in a context like this it sounds like very juvenile writing. But that's just my opinion.

>>9652371
Honestly hard to read. Not hard like it's a good challenge, but hard like it's a bunch of disjointed clauses with seemingly random punctuation. Still kind of interested me, though. It could be good with some actual structure.

A man
dying of cancer
in a tiny room
while outside
women in sundresses
walk the night
that's the greatest cruelty
of life,
that eventually
leaves us behind
high heels
and see-through dress
and all.

>>9651392
bad
>>9651557
i had a hard time following what was happening (who was speaking, pronoun usage..)
>>9651928
i feel like i've read this a million times...
>>9652367
it's generally clear..i can appreciate that...still it's not really good
>>9652371
who rolls apples or reads in a garden nowadays? haha...this sounds old to me

>>9652371
Is there some rule on this board to not use paragraphs?
Is the use of carriage return a bannable offense?

>>9652489
You missed this one: >>9650756

>>9652489
Well, I guess there are worse things in life than being able to sound competently generic.

>>9652510
>>9652496
>>9652492
>>9652489
bad

>>9649901
This thread kinda sucks just because OP has incredibly high standards, or just wants to shit on everyone without providing actually good reason.

File: Mosley Blackshirts.jpg (257KB, 1024x783px) Image search: [Google]

257KB, 1024x783px

>>9639094
Man is a social creature and therefore worthless without the great gestalt. The individual is a childish mask created by those who wish for the quivering sensation created as queen Nemesis fucks the cumschalckered death of Mankind in to existence for his hubris. . .
But, who was phone???

>>9639103
contentless, dribbel, garbage
>Many of the staunch citizens approached their seats with a grimace of disgust and a gush of vomit splashing against the back of their throats ...
i think you need more descriptors of how badly they think of said subject

>>9652534

Kek. That wasn't an attempt at prose, I was just replying to the comment

>i feel like i've read this a million times...

Traveling is tedious renewal, perhaps made less habitual by the travail or ordeal, be it weather, police, hunger, uncertainty. What travel cannot be is stagnant since the compelling horizon begs the soul to fructify and forget. Become inhuman by various, discursive regressions and, the physical act, the contact of body with every strangeness.

Like in a passion play the sequence of confrontation which has been codified into obscurity by convention becomes a practice and finally a medium for living or an unconscious rite something like the hand's motion over prayer beads which is part of but seperate from the prayer itself.

To travel is to become a passenger par excellence and it is therefore more than the sum of its parts, with the remainder we tend to sublimate or mystify the way you might interpret dreams-there is a Bourgeois conservatism to the interpretation of dreams, an attempt to make us of or account for what must be ultimately an excess, our way of economizing libidinal activity--to enjoy and to enjoy again, to eat like a gourmand "savor"

>>9652585
You wrote so much but said so little.

>>9652618
Do you only read for information? If it's not too much trouble I wanted more substantial criticism. Are you saying I should be more sparing with language or what?

>>9649526
this is really really good. best thing in the thread

>>9639094
i've got a
gal in kalama-
zoo
don't
want to boast but i know she's the toast of ka-
la-
mazo-
o

>>9652629
It's not about the information it contains. It's more of a coherency things, you write several separate ideas without any coherency between them. If your intention was for those 3 paragraphs to feel like there was a single overarching idea then you failed at that. If your intention was to make several pointes separate from each other then you need to brush up on your punctuation. Also, a little to wordy, you sound too clinical.

A Fairy delved deeper in an encampment.
With the rifles put to the side and the cannonballs at bay, when all was meant to be quiet, there still came a solemn whistle like one from an alley beckoning you to come closer – a sign that this land was afraid of silence. The land was not so quiet now; overhead, bullets streamed back and forth with the force of a torrential gale, tearing uniforms, wetting the soil. Artillery: steel-black; booming.
Ahead of The Fairy was a trench-like divot, perhaps made by the stride of some giant’s lagging foot. Inside of it came a tapping and a leg whose boots were wet, glittering like moving tar, bent out upon the ground. She followed the dip in the Earth where a rat ripped from a skull and began to pick at the eyes.
The Fairy gave a stare and while lowering herself she took an object from her side pocket in her grip; she drew her pistol and though she herself stood six inches, her gun miniscule and the bullets even smaller, they could still charge through bone, pass and neutralise any living mind were the shot to hit its mark. She shot: fire spurts out, a celebration; the rat’s jaw splits open like a pincer; teeth fell, limbs too; the body sunk into one point; the rat tumbled from the pistol’s sight; the fire ceased and with it the celebration to an assured demise.
A quiver flowed through the rat.
There was a silence.
The rat raised itself upon the gnawed mound and sprinted in her direction.

>>9652574
I believe he just gathered up all the posts he saw, including mine.
Considering his actions, I think he's crittique is nothing but trolling. (Presuming it's OP.)

Would anyone be interested in critiquing a plot?

>>9639094
He rested a few feet from the door, panting heavily, just this morning he'd begun life like any other day.

But since then he'd crossed two state lines, seen his best friend analized, and had killed a clown with his bare hands.

There was a knock on the door...once...twice...and a third time. In the pursuing silence he hoped they would leave, thinking he had escaped through a back door.

But just as he began to calm his racing heart - CRASH - the door came falling down, wood splinters showering him like hail and the clown's hungry exposed cock staring him down.

He saw that there others following the lead clown in, and these boys were wielding the definition of BBCs.

His final thought was, "When it rains, it pours."

>>9652655
ye

>>9652540
ok
>>9652545
bad
>>9652585
bad
>>9650756
it doesn't work as comedy for me, which i think is what you're going for

>>9652650
no there people mocking me in the thread who aren't me...that wasn't me... i'm only responding to the writing samples (and assorted comments directed my way). i am trying to be serious tho keeping things light too.

>>9652656
You seem to have cristalized the essence of all those shitty buddy comedy movies with overweight jews in them, like the hangover and superbad. You should feel bad about this and maybe start looking into the possibility that you might have a few extra chromosomes.

>>9652545
i like it

>>9652644
Yes. I just read it again and realized that the ideas seem tacked together kind of artlessly. The wordiness is unfortunate because it is how my thoughts tend to organize themselves; but i haven't got a clue how to organize them in a different way.

>>9652681
appreciated

not the thread topic but have writing anything you wish to share yourself?

>>9652655
not him but I'm afraid to share my ideas for plots with other writers because I am afraid they will tell me the idea is bad if it's bad, but also tell me it's bad if it's good so that they can steal it. Is this fear unfounded?

>>9652656
Actually pretty funny in a retarded ironic way.

>>9652688
Read a wider variety of authors, It feels like you've been reading philosophy a little too much, like you're trying to create logical structures with the words and that's good for understanding how you think but it doesn't make for an entertaining read. Trim the fat out, take off everything that's not necesary to communicate the core of the idea.

Also, if you want to connect several ideas together you might wanna try inserting a narrative.

>>9652697
don't be scared anon people will forget and move on they just have an opinion that's it

>>9639103

Languishing in the insipid facsimile of writing you present, I hindered inclinations for expulsion of stomach contents as I considered the amount of seminal fluid on your keyboard.

That's how you write.

>>9652702
Nah, it's lazy. It's just a few dick jokes and It's built like a movie preview.

>>9652712
You are perceptive really because I've read pretty much nothing but philosophy for a while now. I just can't seem to find fiction that I like anymore. /lit/ does not help.

>>9652757
People tend to copy the speech patterns and vocabulary of the things they read and hear.

What was the last novel you enjoyed reading?

>>9652773
The last book I distinctly remember enjoying was Franny and Zooey. I read it on a greyhound bus in the snow. I've read countless books since, but that was the last one I couldn't put down and afterwards I felt different than I had before, if that makes sense. Maybe I'm just bored with life.

>>9652681
I usually don't endorse namefagging, but a tripcode can be helpful to prevent the jesters?

>>9652785
Phil is dry and tends to make emotional responses to life dwindle down quite a bit, which is not always a bad thing. The problem with it is that you tend to dissect everything too much, very little of what gets perceived is felt as a response from the limbic system before we start trying to mentally chop it up into it's individual parts.

Ficcion can help with that, well writen ficction provides you with a different language with wich to relate the world. My suggestion, grab a short, easy and plesant read to start with, grab no country for old men, the language in it should help you shake off some of that clinical feel to your texts, or whatever, the Houellebeq novel.

>>9652818
I will check those out definitely. I'm hoping to find something that makes me feel. Honestly I have depression so it's not easy for me. Also I work as a mechanic and study engineering so that is probably a hindrance as well. Thanks for your help that is not how /lit/ usually acts.

>>9652736
Yeah, that's the point. It's so fucking retarded it's funny to me. Like to think of that plot actually being in a movie with Seth Rogen or one of those other types is such a horrible, abysmal thought that it becomes funny.

>>9652825
The first step to making /lit/ less shitty is to actually contribute good ideas to ongoing threads, that motivates others to post something other than sadfrogs. Modify your routine, it's uncomfortable and scary but you need to find ways to shake you out of yourself when you get depressed. If you like poetry and feel blue you might wanna check out Bukowski.

>>9652713
That's exactly what a tricky plot thief would say though desu

>>9639209
>>9639340
>>9639363
>>9639465
>>9640546

Everyone else itt find a better hobby

>>9652855
the fact that you would know that means it's probably not safe for anyone to express any sort of creativity itt

>>9652757
read only philosophy, start categorizing everything as either good or bad, you must have skipped nietzsche

>>9652658
>>9652697
Essentially this would be a follow-up short story to another established continuity of short stories I am doing in which during a duel the young monarch protagonist ends up humiliating the heir to a powerful aristocratic family in a duel which he loses an eye or something in that vein. During this many major characters in the plot.

The monarch in question is what is best described as a prototypical philosopher king, who inherited his government from an incredibly ruthless autocrat who reformed the country considerably and tried to shape his son into an identical version of himself. He, upon talking to others about him, seems to be classical psychopath with a singular goal - to surpass his father whose will he seeks to reject by improving upon it. Aside from that, he has issues with perfectionism and control freaks.

Afterwards, the monarch is led to a military exercise while being accompanied by his step-father the head of the "War Intelligence Department" the Censor-marshal. On his way, he is introduced to the peasantry properly on his way and encounters a priest of the faith which venerates him. He ends up entertaining the priest and takes him in his company to observe the exercise.

Shall I continue?

>>9652489
I'm >>9651557
It was an excerpt from somewhere in the middle of the book. The characters are Richard, Tiffany (chubby white woman), and Veronica (skinny and tall black woman). Veronica (or Nick/Nicky) is a hardcore feminist. Tiffany USED to be a hardcore feminist, sort of like Big Red, in fact used to live with Nicky and sort of taught her the ways of 3rd wave feminism. Yeah, there's aspects of politics in my zombie survival series that also focuses on survivalism and realism, so it's a little bit odd but I think it's quite interesting. Anyways, it's from my latest book, and is the 3rd in the series. So there's two books before this one, actually 2.5 books since it's from a ways into that third one, and so I guess I sort of slacked off on the pronouns to specify who is saying what at which points.

>>9639210
Get off /lit/ and finish your series.

>>9639209
Did you actually mean starlings? I've never heard of them doing this.
Then again, I don't know birds.

>>9644805
Are you implying that original sin would be an improvement?

>>9652971
I am not getting any plot. You just gave some events that take place in an established universe and explained one of the characters.

>>9652971
I'm confused. I feel like you should keep explaining. Maybe just boil it down into a quick synopsis to preface your more detailed description.

>>9643106
too much periods, 5 fisrt lines were too concrete

>>9639210
You are my mind brother