Original Scary Stories by You

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Brawl

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>>18214266
You'll get a decent amount of hotels/houses

Creativity!

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I'm doing hard mode, here is my image. I challenge others to compete with me to make story of this image. Since it is hard mode, it can be... compete.

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>>18214312
She beat us all to it

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>>18214257
I'll play. This is a good creative writing exercise. Rolling.

>>18214312
It is me. Story begins on line following subsequent line.

There was wheat. Many, many groups of wheat stood in the field. When the man came to the field, he did not understand.

"Where the fuck am I?"

He did not know who he was nor how he got there. He only knew the wheat, at once. The wheat sprang upon him in its colours.

He walked through the wheat thinking, I am a man. Eventually he thought, I will eat. He tried to eat a wheat.

But he could not.

Then he became in a panic. His hunger was overwhelmed into his breast. With all energies he cried out, "How do I make food?"

Ghost appeared. Ghost saith unto him, "Hey bitch made, you make a fire innit?" He did not know what the ghost was saying due to the nature of its idioms. He did not know fire. The ghost began to fade away.

He cried out unto it, "What the fuck is your problem, I don't know anything about that!" And thus discovered he speech.

And with his speech he described a wheat, and its beauty did him overwhelm. He lost desire for food. He lost notion of fire. He lost ideas of being where he was, and of wheat.

He became wheat.

>>18214334

try beat my story fuck boys

rollaroo

>>18214351
>someone really, really needs attention

>>18214334

best story try me fuck boys you can not beat

fuck off, what are you going to do

>>18214367

you needs attention fuck boy

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>>18214369
87% accurate representation of you except I could not find many slavs squatting at a computer

rollo

>>18214383

how you obtained picture from me

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>Hard: Choose the first loaded image from your search

You slump mindlessly backwards into your couch, hitting it with so much force that the springs groan in protest and allowing your body to go limp practically in midair. To your pleasure, the remote control is waiting for your eager hands right there on the couch, and you don't have to reach far to turn on the television in front of you. With something akin to a click, a pop, a frequency change, and an electronic din simultaneously, the black mirror on the far end of the room comes alive with light and color, and your brain tunes into an atmosphere of passive reception and relaxation. The darkness of the room around you, previously unintruded upon except by the small lights of electronic appliances on their chargers, has been driven back to the furthest corners of the room to become wavering shadows by the dancing, painted light emanating from your TV.

Soon enough, your brain perceives that the station you're tuned into is something less than entertaining to your tastes, and you muster up the effort necessary to twitch your thumb again. A small red light appears on the end of your remote, and you pull up a selection of channels to choose from. As you skim over the descriptions of the programming with glazed eyes, you notice that the tiny box housing the program that was boring you a moment ago has turned to static, your attention immediately seized by a harsh electronic hiss that seems to crawl down the back of your neck. Your first reaction is to pick the last thing onscreen that even slightly piqued your interest and hit select, fleeing the harsh sound and nauseating visual feedback with a panicked mashing of your thumb against plastic. For an instant, the black mirror reflects your face in the pitch-darkness again, and then the name of the program is displayed, and then the harsh, grating audio-visual sandpaper begins emanating from the television set again. This station is nothing but static, too. (CONT)

roll x2

>>18214401
>>18214331

You change the channel immediately to the station below it, and it's the same thing. Static, like electric pinpricks against the surface of the screen.You change the channel again a few times, and the black blips between stations serve only as a brief reprieve from more static. Hissing.

You figure something must be wrong with the receiver, and so you sit there for a moment in resigned frustration before building up the strength of will necessary to plant your feet on the floor and begin to sit up. As you do so, however, the sound the television set is making changes for a moment into a different, droning kind of sound, a tonal one, and that piques your interest long enough for you to stay your hand for a moment and not just shut the receiver off. The tone is somewhere between a multitude of human voices and the hum of cicadas, and you slink back, hypnotized, into your chair listening to its haunting sound. Eventually, the tone lapses into something almost intelligible, and the static on the screen gains something like form and legibility, taking on the appearance of a news broadcast.

"Huh," you think, as your nerves settle and you recline further into the cushions to forget the malfunction and watch some mindless entertainment. (CONT)

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>>18214257
hard. Real Story. Did you know that in late 60s the canadian air force trained for an invasion of US mutant bears? There was the rumor of a secret bio weapon program to breed giant blodthirsty bears to devour male virgins beyond the age of 30. this would have led to the extinction of the canadian race.

>>18214334

my story is still best

>>18214312
He was very upset on the side of the line. And he was right. I wasn't the best brother these last months. And top of that I was very reclusive in this apartment and in my head. After yelling something about loneliness, he hung on me. It was ironic that he was the only friend I didn't lose. I found my self staring at the tapestry and it was the first time I noticed the weat pattern across the wall. I came closer to give a better look and suddendly a hit on the other side of the wall. Then another. It keep going for hours. My neighbour was a old man the kind full of fear and love. I saw him sometimes in the hall. But the noise was unbearable. I knock his door but there wasn't any response and I tried the handle. It was unlocked. As I opened the door I saw the place all trashed. The chairs were scatered across the room and a tv was on the floor and still on. I called for the old men but I only hear the hitting and more clearly. I stepped a puddle of blood on the entrance but I was already inside, there wasn't a way back.In the bedroom, I was more surprised to see the same weat tapestry than the old man banging his head on the wall. He could barely stand and there was another puddle of blood beneath his feet. I talked to him. Nothing. I carefully touch his shoulder to turn him around. His face was all smashed in and mumble: I didn't want to be lonely. I want it to see who was on the other side of the tapestry.

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>>18216541

AaaAaAAaAAAaAaAaahhhhHhHHhHh!!!!!

RoLoLoL

gud

>>18214257
Rolling.

>>18214257
Rolling

Once Upon a Roll...

would anybody like to actually post the images they found at least

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>be shopping at local galleria mall
>see gypsy croat vendors selling knock off designer sunglasses, purses and shit
>i'm drawn to a pair of fake orange gucci shades
>how much?
>$25
>i'll take em
>pay the man and leave the shades on
>everything looks orange, green or black
>kinda trippy
>enter real gucci store and browse
>i think one of the workers is smirking at me, can spot my fakes
>my intention was to walk out with the shades and see if any materialistic thots will check me out
>some see the big GG logo on my shades and give horny smiles, i smile back
>feeling good right about now, was depressed earlier
>after staring at galleria chicks for half an hour got me horny as fuck
>hop in my trusty, early aughts, red dodge neon and head for the local national forest on my way home
>park my car on the side of a road about 7 miles deep
>break out my flea market meth pipe and go into the woods about 3/4 of a mile
>if a ranger comes i'll just crush the pipe with my feet
>take several deep hits off the glass and get super horny now
>was planning on edging in the woods
>something about getting high and fapping outdoors gives me the ultimate rush
>break out my black ZTE Max 4G smartphone and search "mall sluts" on pornhubs
>click "public car blowjob in mall parking lot"
>whip myself out, Starter track pants and Fruit of the Loom boxers fall to my ankles
>take off fake Gucci shades because fapping to bitches that have the same skin tone as Donald Trump won't cut it
>Instantly notice everything in the video has an orangish tint anyway
>hear broken twigs like footsteps coming
>pull up black pants, play it cool
>feel like i'm being watched
>walk towards my car and instantly panic
>my red dodge neon is gone, now there's a green one there
>theshit.xxx
>iook around to see if anybody else is here
>everything looks really orange and green
>but it's fucking autumn, dead leaves everywhere, that must be it i thought
>look in the green neon
(cont.)

Rolllllllgddss

>>18218496
(cont.)
>yup, it's my car
>the racing bucket seats I found at a junkyard are in there
>i rub the green paint, maybe it's forest dust
>nope. it's paint alright
>carefully slip my key in the passenger door
>notice my keys have a milky, orange hue
>voila! it opens
>get on the winding road that leads back out of the forest
>trees are high as shit, can't see the sky for shit
>fuck these trees are green as fuck
>this road wasn't this black, tar looks fresh as baby shit
>i live in a cottage park several miles away from the forest
>it's all backwoods all the way home
>enter the main hwy and nearly shart myself
>the entire sky is FUCKING ORANGE!
>this be some Fallout 4 shit right here
>it's 4:20pm, so maybe it's just the late sky color
>still can't explain my now green car tho
>can people go colorblind in an instant?
>get home and google that shit
>"are people born colorblind?" "can you develop colorblindness later in life"
>yes and fucking yes. shit
>my house lights and white walls are orange like an orange
>my furniture, carpet is either green or black
>this sucks, i start to cry, maybe crying will help
>nope it doesn't
>realize that i didn't start seeing this shit until after I wore those fake Gucci shades
>take them back to the croat mall vendors and tell them about it
>they look at me like i'm crazy and colorblind and don't blame them and shit
>i see they were made in China and i think there's a chemical in these glasses that fucked my vision up
>i dare the vendor to put them on if he thinks i'm bullshitting
>vendor looks nervous and tells me he'll give me a refund
>I tell him, "No! Put them on! You don't believe me, put them on! You can't sell these things, they're dangerous!"
>vendor hesitates, looks at his wife, she shrugs
>vendor puts glasses on, takes them off
>"nothing", he says
>then he told me he's sold over 10 of them and nobody complained but me
>i keep the glasses, one day i'll have them tested for toxic chemicals somewhere i guess
(cont.)

>>18218511
(cont.)
fast foward a week later...
>optometrist confirms i'm fucking colorblind
I guess the moral of this story is don't buy knock off designer sunglasses from China. Seriously, don't. Imagine seeing only pic related colors for the rest of your fucking life. Imagine every girl you fuck now reminds you of Donald Trump. My American flag isn't red white or blue anymore, it's fucking Green, Orange and Black. I don't even know what color I bleed yet. I guess I have that shit to look forward to.

going for hard mode, rolling

Rollerio

ITT: People not reading other people's posts while expecting them to read theirs

>>18214257
ROLL

>>18218565
ITT: wanting writing critique from a paranormal board
like one of these was serious and it was way too wordy. zero sentence fluency.

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>>18218576

cant right for shit so here you go

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We'z rollin' boss!

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>>18218820
Keep gettin' piktchas of dis humie.

Tuck and roll.

>>18214257
I'm bored

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>>18219283
easymode.


I moved into my uncles house. He died a few months back, and he left me his house and his money in the will to me. It's a grand manor in the country, and it is very large, and has many rooms. One of the most interesting things about it is the staircase, made of old oak and ash, and painted and varnished in a very dark colour.

I'm an artist, and I think the many paintings and tapestries and carvings in the manor will help me and give me some inspiration. I do have a cook and a cleaner living here, but they sleep in the basement. I sleep high up, and if I walk out of my bedroom the staircase is right outside.

I settled in fast, and enjoyed the clean air and country atmosphere. My days would consist of walking around the estate;mostly the wooded and marshy parts, and painting. I had a few mannequins that I would use to roughly represent the human figure. I often painted in the lounge, but when I painted the mannequins I painted upstairs, in my room. I always put the mannequins under my bed, I did not like my room being cluttered and littered.

After a few weeks I began noticing odd things. The Cook complained about food dissapearing, and several blankets had gone missing, and were found later in the cellar looking like some sort of sleeping arrangement. I did not mind; I had always loved the idea of the paranormal, and a ghost in my own manor would be fascinating. I just told the cook and the cleaner to tell me if they heard anything else.

That day I felt tired, although it was early in the evening, and the sun had not dissapeared in the sky yet, and was shining her last sanguine rays across the sky. I had put the mannequins away, read part of a book and turned my light off. Some hours later I woke up. It was dark, and cold, as I had left my window open. I was going to sit up and close it, but I heard something. I heard somebody running up the spiral staircase. The sound of the footsteps came to my room, and I heard a knock on my door. cont

>>18219313
I grabbed my uncles pistol tightly; he was a lover of firearms and shooting, even after the bans made by the government, and still owned many a weapon. I held my pistol tightly and listened intently. I heard two more knocks, and the steps were heard going down the stairs and faintly disappearing.
I got little sleep that night, and woke up to tell the Cook and the Cleaner. They told me I was probably experiencing an episode of "sleep paralysis". After researching the subject more, I agreed, even though I had my suspicions.

This happened many more nights after, and I had less and less sleep every night. I knew of the phenomenon, but it seemed too real.

I became paranoid, and I decided to see if this was what they called "sleep paralysis". I put amounts of flour in front of my door, as the carpet was a light grey colour. The Carpet on the spiral staircase was a dark grey, and any white flour would show up as the thing went down the stairs. I went to sleep, and did not wake up in the middle of the night at all, and slept all through it.

I went to sleep, and heard it again. In the morning I was awaiting to see the results. If I did see flour then it would be proof of ghost activities, and I would be right. it wouldn't be sleep paralysis.

I checked the stairs, and I was right. there was no flour at all, and the flour in front of my door (that I took care to not step on) looked undisturbed.


I was pleased with myself, and prepared myself for a day of painting. I got all my mannequins out, and painted and painted. All my mannequins had long, straight hair of a woman, and curvy bodies, and I felt incredibly pleased with myself for capturing their figure and painting them as real people.

I ate, read, and settled in to sleep. cont

>>18219336
I woke up in the middle of the night, again. I saw the mannequin was standing right next to my bed, and realised I had left it out. I must have been so pleased about the painting that I forgot to put it away. The moon from the open window illuminated its curly hair, although I could not see it's face or any of it's body. I decided to go back to sleep and to put it away in the morning.


I woke up again and looked to where the mannequin stood. It had gone. I sat up in bed, and turned the bedside lamp on. I looked to the flour, and saw something i did not want to see that night. Where the mannequin had stood, I saw white flour, in the shape of footprints. I looked to the pistol on my bedside table and it was gone. I recoiled in fear and shock, and jumped out of bed, and stopped. I heard the steps coming up from the staircase, and dreaded hearing the knocks on the door. The knocks came, and I cannot describe the thing that came from that door when it opened.
can i have some criticisms? i don't write at all and decided to do it for fun on /x/. the story is probably shit.

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roll..

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>>18219830
The girl was smiling. And so was I. She wanted to bedazzle everyone with her looks, to enamor others with her lies and deceit! <chuckles> Well little did she know, that I would change it. Oh yes, she had no idea that I was about to make sure her smile was as pure her foul soul.

Man, you should have seen it! The sight of a pathetic girl picking her teeth from the ground! She even tried putting them back in, priceless!

Now her smile will be as empty as her soul :)

still writing bump

>>18214257
Le roll : D

>>18220670
>18220670
le reroll lmao

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>>18220676

>>18220693
My family huddled around the living room TV in awe, intently watching the the satellite broadcast grow more and more indecipherable as the impossibly large object eclipsed the sun, drowning the earth in a sea of darkness. When the Mayans prophesied the world would be destroyed, nobody expected something like ...this.

>>18216550
That's horrifying enough without the short story.

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When I was in middle school my history teacher told the tale of the Donner party. A group of wagoners who got stuck in the mountains on the way west to California. Their journals describe in great detail how, out of desperation, one by one they selected members who were not as... important, and ate them to survive the winter.

When I first heard the story I thought there was no way I could ever do that, bring myself to kill and eat another person.

That was before I learned how well human eyes go with crepes...

>>18220792
Nice shining reference

Rollan

rollin rollin rollin

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>>18223728
Awaken to what still looks like my eyes were closed. The rough texture against my skin was burning my flesh, my lungs felt like they were working overtime.
I knew my fate, my screams were worthless. The wooden box I was encased in was to be my casket.
I had heard the term "Dead in the dirt," so I chuckled at my last thought.
Alive in the dirt.

Rolling this

Rolling rolling rolling

>>18214257
rolling for easy mode. Also, first time doing this.

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>>18223862
Easy mode.
Another night on my shitty job as night guard in this museum. It's not a famous one since it's all about trains and shit. So besides having mosquitos by night and train autists by day, it's pretty much equaly deserted. My job consists of sitting around here and don't let hobos and dogs enter the old train wagon, so I'm always left with the train, time and myself.
So, here's the story. The other day I was there doing nothing like always. And all of suden i hear metal gritting and banging. The winter was comming so it was normal. The metal was contracting itself because of the cold.
But minutes later it was louder.
>Did a Hobo just entered in there without me noticing it?
So here I go, with my flashlight and pepper spray to take the idiot out of there. I enter the wagon and nothing. Nothing. Nobody in the cabin, nobody in the cargo. I was ready to leave the wagon. But another sound came, even louder. And this time I could specifie exactly where it came from. The steam chamber.
It was impossible for the hobo to enter there, since we locked the door soon after the museum closed and even if we didn't the door makes a hell of a noise when opening,
My heart started racing, like it wanted to jump right out of my chest and run away. But my body and mind are too stupid to listen to it.
My heart and the beatings in the chamber door are the only things I can hear.
My hands tramble as I pull the door; slowly and almost begging not to be opened the door followed my arms.
I looked inside for anything in there. And I found it. Looking at me, with tears in it's big eyes, imploring for me to not let him all alone again.
I don't know if it was it's cuteness, or how he showed his big teeth when he smiled at me. I don't know it's name, how it ended up there or even what it is. But I simply couldn't left it alone there. I entered the chamber to help it.
And closed the door behind me.

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>>18223972
The screen was starting to hurt his eyes. It usually happens this late into his shift. His job was to monitor properties of his company's clients. He didn't sign up for this low level security thing when he first started, but it paid well enough so he eventually settled down for this after a few years.
Something had caught his attention on one of the cameras today. A guy in a black hoodie had been standing in front of one of the properties, a shipping warehouse. Normally, he wouldn't think any of that was very strange at all, except this guy just stood there. That's all he did, for about 15 minutes. Then, the man looked up at the camera for a moment, seemingly knowing that he was watched. His face wasn't visible on camera, the equipment they had installed wasn't very up to date. Then he just walked away.

"Hey, Dave. Look... to be honest we are a little overstaffed today. It's my fault. Would you mind to have the rest of the day off? The hours you've worked today will still be paid," someone said.
Dave turned around in his squeaky office chair. His boss had come in.
"Uh..." Dave stammered, turning back around to glare at his screen one last time for the day. He noticed the same man walking in front of one cameras of the other properties. In a split second he decided he must be wrong, and that it was somebody else, because the properties are too far apart. He rubbed his eyes, turned back around, and said "Sure. I wouldn't mind that at all, I'm tired."
"Good. See you tomorrow, Dave."
"See you, boss."

It was almost dark by the time that he walked out on to the parking lot. It was kind of cold for this time of year. He headed to the spot he usually parked his car. It was next to Jenny's, a receptionist. Dave liked her. He spent the short walk thinking about her and occasionally letting out a breath that would turn into fog condensed by the cold.
"Dave." a voice behind him called out.

>>18224094
Cont.

His thoughts were abruptly ended by this, and he turned around. It was the man with the hoodie, and Dave was left speechless.
"Who-" was all he could say. It was all the man would let him say.
"Your turn" was all the man said, and he laid his hand on Dave's shoulder.
Dave passed out.

He awoke several hours later. It was cold and dark by now. He was in a parking lot. A different parking lot. His mind was racing. He did not know what to do. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by what just happened, and froze. He stood there. Just stood there, for what he felt was probably way, way too long. Then he looked up, into the camera.

>>18224094
Just noticing the typo :"( It should be "a camera of one of the other properties" but I hastily thought this up. Tell me what you guys think

>>18219352
I really enjoyed that, good job.

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What the hell. Let's roll.

>>18214334

mine story still best. under very rate. look at him, fuck bots

>>18226237
Yeah, Borges

>Picture of wheat
>"There was wheat"
>Enter random man
>He was wheat

Okay, finished my story. Somebody encourage me to post it, or I'll chicken out.

>>18227466
If you post it I will think about cumming inside you.

>>18227486
You fag. All right then, because you made me laugh.

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>>18218905

They Keep Out the Light


Jack wiped more sweat off his face and knocked on the door again. He took a step back and looked at the heavily curtained front window, then turned towards his truck. The mower and trimmer were already cleaned off and loaded, but he brushed imaginary grass clippings off of them anyway. The tailgate was hot as he slammed it shut. Hot day, and quiet, too. The birds probably wouldn't be coming out for another couple hours. He leaned in the cab to look at the clock on the dash console–4:45.

He walked back up the pavers across the lawn, the pungent, grassy scent of his labor wafting up to the front porch along with him. A soft click from the deadbolt came from behind the door, and it opened slowly.

"Come in, come in! I'm so sorry, I was laying down," Mrs. Anderson apologized.

"That's all right," Jack lied. "I was just finishing up." Jack stepped inside. The cold air hit him like a block of ice, and the darkness blinded him. Mrs. Anderson closed the door behind him, followed by another soft click of the lock as she turned the key and pulled it out. Jack didn't blame her. It was a shitty neighborhood. Momentarily blinded, Jack's eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. Unlike the yard had been, the front room was reasonably tidy. It was sparsely furnished with only a couple chairs under the front window and a sofa adjacent to them. There was a coffee table in the middle. The only light was from a small lamp on a desk against the far wall where the hallway lead back to the rest of the house. Shotgun shack. There were still a few of them left in this part of town.

>>18227510


"Please have a seat, Mr. Cooper. I hope you like iced tea. Made a pitcher this morning. You look thirsty, and Lord knows this heat is just awful," Mrs. Anderson said as she gestured toward the sofa. Jack double checked his feet and crossed the room. The floor creaked in the center. He sat down and glanced at the heavy brocaded curtains. They were a hideous pattern of orange, grey and brown stripes. Worse than the curtains in the old motel down on Crab Tree. Mrs. Anderson caught him looking at them. "I know. They're ugly as sin, but they keep out the light. Be right back with my purse," she said.

"Thanks," Jack smiled as he watched her disappear around the corner down the hallway. She was wearing a light sundress. Jack shook his head after she left and hugged his arms from the cold. Unbelievable she was wearing that in here with the window unit blasting away in another room. It must have been close to 50º. Jack shifted in his seat and brushed some white flecks off the sofa cushion beside him. Flecks? Flakes? God, some kind of pet dander. He had had an aunt who had 4 cats so he was pretty used to shit like that. Not a big deal. The small yard, on the other hand had been pretty impressive. Waist high grass brimming with nettles–she had clearly let it grow all summer–it matched the rest of the derelict neighborhood. If not for the hum of the A/C compressor the house would have looked abandoned from the outside.

>>18227515


Mrs. Anderson came back clinking with a tray of iced tea glasses which she fastidiously placed on the coffee table and arranged the glasses on coasters. Jack tried not to smirk about the glasses not even having a chance to sweat in here. "Thank you, Ma'am," Jack sipped his tea. It was very sweet. Taking her purse from under her arm, Mrs. Anderson sat in a chair and asked,
"So, what's the damage?"
"$35, Ma'am," Jack replied. He knew he was undercharging, but he felt bad for her. 60-something lady, probably on a fixed income. Although she obviously had lost a good deal of weight by the way her skin hung loosely in her upper arms and neck, her eyes were big and deep blue. She might have been pretty once, back in her day. She rummaged around in her purse for about a minute while Jack noticed a small mole on the corner of her left shoulder. She pulled out a twenty and a ten.
"I'm so sorry, Hun–I've only got $30 in cash," she said as she tugged at the thin strap of her dress. "You know what, let me go see if I have some change in the bedroom."
"No, no. That's fine, Ma'am," Jack lied again. Mrs. Anderson's dress straps kept falling down her shoulders and she kept readjusting them.
"Nonsense!", she protested, "I know I have some change back there. You just sit right there while I get it." As she stood up, she resolutely gave her dress strap a tug upwards and her mole moved along with it a good three inches. Jack looked away at those godawful curtains as she left again.

After a few minutes, Jack set down his half-empty glass. "Mrs. Anderson? Ma'am? Really, $30 is fine. I should get going soon," he yelled around the corner. He cringed at the thought of a giant bag of old lady pennies jingling in the cab on the way back. Just as he was about to get up, he heard Mrs. Anderson quietly padding back up the hallway. "Thank christ," he thought as he repositioned himself on the edge of the sofa cushion. "everything all right, Ma'am?" he asked.

>>18227519


"Oh, fine, fine, Hun," she simpered, "it's just this heat. It always slows me down a bit." She stood in the doorway with a marked lack of pennies. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it, and it just keeps getting worse every year," she explained. She slipped her skin off her shoulders, wriggling out of it, and reached out to turn off the desk lamp. The accordion folds of her skin on the floor left a grotesque afterimage–a pattern of orange, grey, and brown stripes–in his eyes as he was blinded once again.

The floor in the center of the room creaked.

>>18219352

i thought you had some pretty interesting ideas. i'll try to give you some constructive feedback.

1. i liked the image you chose of the stairway. i would have liked to read more about it. why was it built like that? what's the story about the uncle? what's the reason this house seems to have a ghost or to be animating mannequins?

2. in general a writing idea known as Chekhov's Gun - if you bother to explain or describe something in your story, it needs to be important to the story in some way. every sentence should be advancing the plot, developing the characters, etc.

if you're interested in working on your writing, i like a podcast called WritingExcuses.com - some popular and prize-winning authors give writing advice. season 10 is basically a series of simple writing exercise "classes" to improve your ability to tell a story.

Rollery Harpy

Let's do this

Rolling, for great justice.

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>>18228120
HARD MODE

Some time ago, you met a strange but lovely lady who was very attractive. Was it her smile, or her walk? Maybe her hips, her bosom? You were attracted, so who cares, and the feeling was mutual. Simple seduction became romance and after several dates she finally invited you over for dinner at her house.

Her home was like any average home in the city, the neighbors were loud and argued over petty rabble but mostly muffled out by road noise in the busy streets below. The studio apartment was designed almost like a cabin getaway, with a wooden and stone hearth. She keeps telling you dinner is almost ready from the kitchen. You ask if there is a way you can help, but she becomes nervous and says no, but thanks you for the courtesy.

On the walls are pictures of family, friends, and a young girl. She was resting on the shoulders of your woman enjoying a piggy-back ride through a park, was it Central Garden? You weren't sure who took the picture, or who the girl was. She never mentioned having a daughter, so you just assume it is a cousin or the child of a close friend.

By now you noticed how long she had been in the kitchen alone, almost an hour. You feel as though this is taking a bit longer than normal, and start feeling awkward. Why not just invite you when dinner was mostly prepared, especially since she declined your help.

Your eyes wander from the gas fireplace and the pictures, now to less intriguing details of the studio, like the cobwebs near the ceiling fan and the dark smudge near the closet. Wait, that smudge seemed odd. It wasn't mud, and it seemed odd since the shoe rack was just behind the front door. Maybe it was nothing, but you decide to check it anyway. Inside the closet was a few wool coats, and one particular coat stood out from the others - it was a child sized winter coat and shawl, but she never admitted having a daughter.

(cont)

>>18228191

"Can I ask you something?" you say, and she replied quite enthusiastically "Sure, anything!"

"Do you have a daughter," you asked, and for a moment you heard no response. Perhaps she did, and you brought up memories at the wrong time?

After a sitting eternity, she comes into the living room and sets a plate in front of you with a grilled beef steak, muddled in a dark red sauce and cherry tomatoes with a wonderful garnish of whole rosemary leaves. Her plate did not have the same food choices, it was mostly vegetables muddled in a simlar dark red sauce. Her eyes were watering.

"I am sorry," she started with a small pause, "I did have a daughter, she passed a year ago."

A hard, sombering feeling came over you to learn this, as she never talked about her.

"Is this not a good time.." you begin to ask,

"No, it's fine, I am working out the grief and I've done so well," she replied, starting to cry a little and tears rolled down her cheek.

"I am sorry, I didn't know," you say quietly. You think for a moment, feeling awkward and grim, and want to change the subject. "The food you prepared looks great, and the steak is cooked just right."

"T-thank you," she stuttered. "You can eat now, don't worry about m-me."

You take her into your arms to hold her until she calmed down. She nodded quietly and picked up her plate and utensil. Nervously you did the same, it seemed like the night was spoiled.

The first bite of the beefsteak was a little tough, sinewy, and was fairly dry. But the center of the steak was still partly raw, cool, and tender. Overall, the steak was delicious but needed work. Why bother picking on the problems? So you just finish the steak, and nibble on the cherry tomatoes. However, the red sauce had an odd bitter, metallic flavor hidden under the spices that you couldn't decipher.

"How was your steak," she asked, "I am sorry if it was over cooked, I got busy, and..."

"It was good, I liked it," you interrupt, "and the sauce is very different.

Rollllllll

>>18214257
Rolling

>>18214257
(t)rolling

>>18228249
"I am glad you like it," she said. "I used a special family recipe."

You look over to her, and notice that she had a band-aid on two of her fingers, and it was poorly cleaned.

"Are you okay?" You ask, pointing to the band-aids.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she sighed, "it was an accident, I got carried away with chopping the vegetables."

You shrug off the cuts, but quickly you notice that the baind-aid pads were covering the palm-sides of her fingers, not typically where you would get cut while chopping vegetables.

"So... what's the family recipe? For the sauce?"

"Oh, well my grandma always said that food prep always came from inside the heart. I know that seems silly, but every good cook always works from the heart."

It was a nice sentiment, a tad gay, but who cares, right? The food itself was decent and accidents happen.

"You do love me, don't you?" she asked, and not surprisingly, you are taken aback from this question. The presentation was awkward, and now your heart was racing, not sure what to say. Was this really happening, are you ready for this relationship to advance? Is this the time, the place?

"I am in you now, you love me, right?"

"What do you mean, in me now?" You stuttered, that question didn't seem right.

"The sauce, it was made from the heart. I am in you now, forever."

[And with that I am done, because the kids are about to kill each other.]

>>18228259
Taps (1981)
The Outsiders (1983)
Risky Business (1983)
All the Right Moves (1983)
Legend (1985)
Top Gun (1986)
The Color of Money (1986)
Cocktail (1988)
Rain Man (1988)
Born on the Fourth of July (1989)
Days of Thunder (1990)
Far and Away (1992)
A Few Good Men (1992)
The Firm (1993)
Interview with the Vampire (1994)
Mission: Impossible (1996)
Jerry Maguire (1996)
Eyes Wide Shut (1999)
Magnolia (1999)
Mission: Impossible II (2000)
Vanilla Sky (2001)
Minority Report (2002)
The Last Samurai (2003)
Collateral (2004)
War of the Worlds (2005)
Mission: Impossible III (2006)
Lions for Lambs (2007)
Valkyrie (2008)
Tropic Thunder (2008)
Knight and Day (2010)
Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol (2011)
Rock of Ages (2012)
Jack Reacher (2012)
Oblivion (2013)
Edge of Tomorrow (2014)
Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation (2015)
Jack Reacher: Never Go Back (2016)
American Made (2017)
The Mummy (2017)

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>>18228295
4got img

>>18214257

Roller Derby

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>>18228225: Hardmode

>Be me, live on ranch with family right next to old Navajo rez
>Very old place, old house, stories in family of spoopy shit, always told to not wander over the fence because Spirits Hate Us
>Cow disappears, have to check the fences
>Probably some mootard fell in a snake hole. again
>Get to probably ten miles out, see little figure laying in grass
>Not a coyote, get out of truck, approach cautiously
>It's an itty bitty colt
>Looks like he got chewed up pretty bad by some coyotes though
>Careful, lil guy seemed spooked
>"Calm down fella, I'm not gonna eat you, it's okay," etc, real soft, moving slow, staying well in vision
>seems to get it, nudges leg
>It's really badly mangled, all kinds of marks, don't know if colt can walk
>Drag into truck with winch anyway (I'm like 5' 110lb girl what do you want), if nothing else we can put him out of misery
>Drive back home with colt in truck bed and do what I can to patch him up

>Cal Rez the next morning, ask if anyone lost a dusty brown horse
>They say nah, will let me know if anyone comes by
>Go out, find dead cow in a snake hole. figures
>Deal with that, come back to find colt mouthing at the hose nearby
>smart lil fella must be thirsty, fill up a water bucket again for him, glad he isn't giving up
>Next day bring a little bite of apple and oatmeal, not sure if he's been weaned but looks big enough to be
>he eats it
>check wounds, re-rinse, wrap again, new bedding, the works
>no calls from rez, time to get a vet in here

>Vet comes by, says he was probably more dehydrated than anything, has no clue where he came from
>Family decides I have a horse of my own now

>Fast forward a year or so
>Lil guy (Dusty, I know, I have an imagination) has grown nicely, can hardly see scars on leg
>He's smart and learns quickly, seems to know I saved his ass and doesn't give me any trouble
>Good riding horse, always knows how to get home, can support lil me quite easily

>>18214257
My image

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You walk down a dusty street in the abandoned city. Your only friend is your shadow. The radiation is getting to you. You then realize-human shadows don't have tentacles.

ROLLING AGAIND FUCK POYS

LETS DO HIM

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>>18228379

ALRIGHT SON OF A WHORE. YOUR ANIME PHOTO CAME TO ME IN THIS GAME. READY FOR MY STORY FUCK BOY.

>three little man stand and much more little man in the middle
>japanese cartoons probably for pedophiles I think
>come in the room with kalashnikov
>watch your mistake fuck boy
>blam blam bang I shot all your regressonal fantasies in asian children
>my bitch
>I am the only real man
>you realize you were always my bitch and this time stream belong in my house
>I am like cthulhu of HP love cram
>you are a Fuck boy

>>18228326
(cont)

>One day this old Indian lady comes up to the ranch
>We're figuring she's gonna complain at us, something about stealing land or whatever
>she walks up to me and hugs me
>she smells like creosote
>"A-anon, the police said you found a horse?"
>uh yeah like a while back lady
>"Can I see him?"
>sure I guess
>walk out to horse barn, Dusty in stable munching happily at some hay
>old lady walks up
>"Micah, Micah it's your nonna, have you learned anything about listening to your nonna now"
>horse nods head
>well okay then
>"Anon, this is my grandson Micah, I'm so glad you saved him"
>wait when did I tell her my name
>wait this horse is her grandson
>whatthefuck.jpg
>figure it's an Indian thing
>I'm glad you found your horse, ma'am, but if you don't have papers or anything, or Dusty won't listen to you, I'm afraid I rather wanna keep him
>"Anon, Micah is not a horse, he's my grandson."
>alright then lady.

>Don't wanna get involved with rez police, end up deciding to give the horse to whoever the horse likes more
>Lead horse out to the training pen and start calling for him
>"Dusty! C'mere Dusty, got some biscuits for ya if you come over here boy", all that
>Horse does not move
>"Micah! Come to nonna"
>Horse walks right to her
>well fuck
>concede, not gonna fight over the horse
>ask if she can give any recompense for vet bills, food, etc
>"I'll help settle the things you white people don't like floating around your houses"
>ask her to elaborate
>"maybe when I come back with my grandson"

>about three weeks later, old lady comes back
>"Anon! Here's my grandson, see?"
>Indian kid, doesn't look like an entitled cunt like a lot of em
>Introduces himself nicely, all that jazz, we talk for a while, ask about Dusty eventually
>Dude's face screws up into a grin
>"I'm doing fine, Anon, thanks for asking"
>thisguy.png
>Apparently notices my disapproval, rolls up pant leg
>Covered in coyote tooth scars, healed up
>"You make some pretty good oatmeal Anon"

>>18228253
The Door in the Wood

The children were playing outside while their parents finished with paperwork for their stay.
This particular Bed and Breakfast, Casa Encantador, was a sight to behold and a lucky find for the weary travelers. Elsa and Rhys were taking in the sights the best way that children can, by exploring.
When a soft crying came from the woods during a game of tag, curiosity took hold of the two like a vice and they immediately went to search for the source. Every time they walked a few yards, the sound would seem to mysteriously move away from them, little by little, until they came to a crude door on a tree. The door was made of bark, with a small notch on the left side, looking more like a part of the tree than any entryway, and quite small.
After some hesitancy, Rhys decided to pull the door open towards him. The bark felt almost electrical and startled the poor kid into losing his grip on the notch. Elsa grabbed the handle before it could close entirely and then opened it just wide enough to peer in.
A soft glowing amber light just barely illuminated the way, but they could see a little down into a spiral staircase leading to a stark black.
Guided by the amber light and curiosity, they slowly entered the tiny passageway and began to descend the stairwell towards the inky depths.
A soft thud and rustling sound caused the duo to look up in surprise. The door had closed and light from outside was no longer coming in. Scrambling back to the door, they noticed vines as thick as braches and covered in unsightly thorns rapidly wrapping themselves over it entirely and barring any means of known escape.
The soft crying began again at once, echoing from the darkness in the stairwell.

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>>18228458
Forgot image.

roll lol