Post by Cass Schiffer on Apr 19, 2007 10:05:29 GMT 7
The Premise
I will start off the story and then leave it off for someone else to continue. You can add characters, kill off characters, plunge into the realm of fantasy, turn it into satire––do anything basically within a writer's scope, as long as it's at least three paragraphs and is continuous to what was written before it. Also, you can go only once per every three posts––that is, if you so choose.
Writing in the Next "Chapter"
I want everybody to make use of the board colours, so that there's some structure/pattern to adding new parts to the story. This is in case, say, two people respond to the same chapter. They would both have the same colour, so we would know that person #1 just didn't add a totally inconsistent chapter on to the story. If this does happen, the next person who responds will choose which of the two responses they want to follow.
Colour Order
black
red
yellow
green
orange
purple
blue
teal
navy
maroon
lime green
Laura stood timidly inside the little shelter provided at the bus stop, staring straight through the scratched "MOTHERFUCKER" down the road. Her eyes were somewhat wide and anxious, and every moment or two she nervously nibbled at her bottom lip. She had been waiting a shy fifteen minutes for the bus to arrive, but the seconds seem to drag on like hours. At her feet rested a black, scuffed-up dufflebag that was misshapen from the many things stuffed inside it. Over her shoulder limply hung a ragged old purse that the rounded edge of a sandwich peeked out of and on her back was a heavy plaid backpack that had seen better days.
There was a static crack and an ominous rumble of thunder that rocked off the nearby buildings. Laura's eyes turned upward toward the dark, almost green, whorl of clouds that were looming overhead. Her teeth dug into her lower lip once more, a sinking sensation creeping into her stomach. A few erratic webs of lightning sprung about the face of the cloud in the following minutes, succeeded by growls of thunder. The only sound aside from the thunder was the occassional whoosh of a passing car or the rough scuff of a boot on the cement outside.
When Laura had bustled up to the stop, there had been a man already there, biding his sweet time watching the gathering storm. As she drew nearer to the stop, she eyed him warily and critically: he looked entirely out of place in this part of the city, crowned with a faded cowboy hat and adorned with a bright belt buckle. He smiled at her as she came up, but she didn't smile back––she dodged into the shelter with a look of mortification, almost as if he had accused her of something dreadful.
At first, Laura feared that he would affront her for her rudeness, or that he'd be a bold sort of fellow and follow her in. But he didn't. He stood leaned up against the vandalized glass of the shelter, hands shoved into his pockets, guitar case and a small, shapeless bag at his feet. After a while, he dug something out of his back pocket, bowed his head for a scant few seconds, then tucked the object back into its place. Pushing away from the shelter, he began to pace idly on the sidewalk, pulling at his cigarette and letting out slow, murky breaths of smoke as he walked. Whenever Laura grew tired of watching for the bus, she watched him pace or peered speculatively at his gear. Whoever he was, he seemed to be high-tailing it too, but he probably had a good idea of where he was going; she, on the other hand, didn't.
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I will start off the story and then leave it off for someone else to continue. You can add characters, kill off characters, plunge into the realm of fantasy, turn it into satire––do anything basically within a writer's scope, as long as it's at least three paragraphs and is continuous to what was written before it. Also, you can go only once per every three posts––that is, if you so choose.
Writing in the Next "Chapter"
I want everybody to make use of the board colours, so that there's some structure/pattern to adding new parts to the story. This is in case, say, two people respond to the same chapter. They would both have the same colour, so we would know that person #1 just didn't add a totally inconsistent chapter on to the story. If this does happen, the next person who responds will choose which of the two responses they want to follow.
Colour Order
black
red
yellow
green
orange
purple
blue
teal
navy
maroon
lime green
#1
[/u][/center]Laura stood timidly inside the little shelter provided at the bus stop, staring straight through the scratched "MOTHERFUCKER" down the road. Her eyes were somewhat wide and anxious, and every moment or two she nervously nibbled at her bottom lip. She had been waiting a shy fifteen minutes for the bus to arrive, but the seconds seem to drag on like hours. At her feet rested a black, scuffed-up dufflebag that was misshapen from the many things stuffed inside it. Over her shoulder limply hung a ragged old purse that the rounded edge of a sandwich peeked out of and on her back was a heavy plaid backpack that had seen better days.
There was a static crack and an ominous rumble of thunder that rocked off the nearby buildings. Laura's eyes turned upward toward the dark, almost green, whorl of clouds that were looming overhead. Her teeth dug into her lower lip once more, a sinking sensation creeping into her stomach. A few erratic webs of lightning sprung about the face of the cloud in the following minutes, succeeded by growls of thunder. The only sound aside from the thunder was the occassional whoosh of a passing car or the rough scuff of a boot on the cement outside.
When Laura had bustled up to the stop, there had been a man already there, biding his sweet time watching the gathering storm. As she drew nearer to the stop, she eyed him warily and critically: he looked entirely out of place in this part of the city, crowned with a faded cowboy hat and adorned with a bright belt buckle. He smiled at her as she came up, but she didn't smile back––she dodged into the shelter with a look of mortification, almost as if he had accused her of something dreadful.
At first, Laura feared that he would affront her for her rudeness, or that he'd be a bold sort of fellow and follow her in. But he didn't. He stood leaned up against the vandalized glass of the shelter, hands shoved into his pockets, guitar case and a small, shapeless bag at his feet. After a while, he dug something out of his back pocket, bowed his head for a scant few seconds, then tucked the object back into its place. Pushing away from the shelter, he began to pace idly on the sidewalk, pulling at his cigarette and letting out slow, murky breaths of smoke as he walked. Whenever Laura grew tired of watching for the bus, she watched him pace or peered speculatively at his gear. Whoever he was, he seemed to be high-tailing it too, but he probably had a good idea of where he was going; she, on the other hand, didn't.
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