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This is a new little competition where I say a little sentence then you have to write a story from that sentence. I can be about anything you like and as long as you like. But you have to put the sentence in the story and continue the story from that.
Heres the sentence. "The woods where horrible rotting bodies lay on the floor and I just stood there with my mouth gapping at them" Now you do a story from that I will say the winner on the 17th January so get writing!!!
Heres the sentence. "The woods where horrible rotting bodies lay on the floor and I just stood there with my mouth gapping at them" Now you do a story from that I will say the winner on the 17th January so get writing!!!
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You might win but im saying the winner tomorrow
Please! Crossbob, if you are still with us, send me a sign, I DESERVE to win this competition...
I'll enter, just so that I can win whatever honour this title bestows. This won't even be worth another topic so I'll write it here.[U]
Here goes nothing...
The woods, the deep dark woods. Really dark and sinister and everything, but I didn't avoid them. It's because I didn't know that something is in there, something lost, forgotten.
At first it had just been a game, a silly, immature game. It had started with us, the old gang, going in when most of us were about eleven. We hadn't even been serious then. As soon as Digz had found the stash we started.
It hadn't been anything much, a few pills, a drink or two for a dare, but after a while it grew compulsive, and I for one couldn't live without it. Hash, pot, crack, it was all there, and no-one else to get it. Within a few months whoever it was stopped filling the hole, and most of us left it at that. Not me though, me, Digz and Charlie kept searching, until we found something.
He was just some drunk, but he knew where to get it. As soon as we found him hunched against a tree in his filthy brown overcoat we knew he was the one. We didn't know his name, but we knew it was him who put the stuff there. I don't know what possessed us, but none of us had been on a fix for weeks, and we were desperate. At first we even asked him, but he was utterly unresponsive, he almost seemed to be dead.
As soon as we searched his overcoat however, the old man sprang into motion. His white, grasping hands jerked from the voluminous pockets, one of them holding a smashed bottle, the other a switchblade. With practiced skill he flicked it open and, without batting an eyelid, cut my finger off, the one that had been reaching into one of his pockets at that moment. All at once I was staring straight into his ugly, misshapen face, filled with so much hurt, anger and rejection that I could hardly stand to see it.
It hurt more than you could possibly imagine. I screamed and almost blacked out. Through blurred vison, I could see the body still lying there by the tree, and my friends hadn't even moved. However, the horrific visage in front of me had not disappeared...
I ran, crying, away from the scene, but when I looked back all I could see was my erstwhile friends returning to looting the tramp's inert body. They hadn't even registered what had just happened
A week laterthe world was still a blur, having walked out of hospital without one finger, I once again took a walk in the woods. In the dark. I don't know what compelled me to do it, neither do I know what made me find the spot again. I knew that it hadn't been found since I left, but something had changed.
Why did I ever enter the woods? The woods where horrible rotting bodies lay on the floor and I just stood there with my mouth gapping at
them. Until I felt the cold blade at my neck and felt the decades of hate and resentment and the cold fury of the grave welling up behind me, calling me...
TO BE CONTINUED!!!??!?!!??
I jsut typed this up in a spare quarter and hour between Latin and my *proper* story, and I really don't care much for it. I call it [U]'The Ghoul' if anyone's interesrted
Here goes nothing...
The woods, the deep dark woods. Really dark and sinister and everything, but I didn't avoid them. It's because I didn't know that something is in there, something lost, forgotten.
At first it had just been a game, a silly, immature game. It had started with us, the old gang, going in when most of us were about eleven. We hadn't even been serious then. As soon as Digz had found the stash we started.
It hadn't been anything much, a few pills, a drink or two for a dare, but after a while it grew compulsive, and I for one couldn't live without it. Hash, pot, crack, it was all there, and no-one else to get it. Within a few months whoever it was stopped filling the hole, and most of us left it at that. Not me though, me, Digz and Charlie kept searching, until we found something.
He was just some drunk, but he knew where to get it. As soon as we found him hunched against a tree in his filthy brown overcoat we knew he was the one. We didn't know his name, but we knew it was him who put the stuff there. I don't know what possessed us, but none of us had been on a fix for weeks, and we were desperate. At first we even asked him, but he was utterly unresponsive, he almost seemed to be dead.
As soon as we searched his overcoat however, the old man sprang into motion. His white, grasping hands jerked from the voluminous pockets, one of them holding a smashed bottle, the other a switchblade. With practiced skill he flicked it open and, without batting an eyelid, cut my finger off, the one that had been reaching into one of his pockets at that moment. All at once I was staring straight into his ugly, misshapen face, filled with so much hurt, anger and rejection that I could hardly stand to see it.
It hurt more than you could possibly imagine. I screamed and almost blacked out. Through blurred vison, I could see the body still lying there by the tree, and my friends hadn't even moved. However, the horrific visage in front of me had not disappeared...
I ran, crying, away from the scene, but when I looked back all I could see was my erstwhile friends returning to looting the tramp's inert body. They hadn't even registered what had just happened
A week laterthe world was still a blur, having walked out of hospital without one finger, I once again took a walk in the woods. In the dark. I don't know what compelled me to do it, neither do I know what made me find the spot again. I knew that it hadn't been found since I left, but something had changed.
Why did I ever enter the woods? The woods where horrible rotting bodies lay on the floor and I just stood there with my mouth gapping at
them. Until I felt the cold blade at my neck and felt the decades of hate and resentment and the cold fury of the grave welling up behind me, calling me...
TO BE CONTINUED!!!??!?!!??
I jsut typed this up in a spare quarter and hour between Latin and my *proper* story, and I really don't care much for it. I call it [U]'The Ghoul' if anyone's interesrted
The woods where horrible rotting bodies lay on the floor and I just stood there with my mouth gaping at them. Has so mny gramatical errors in im got gonna bother.
then Jay tall's gaping mouth engulfed everyone and suddenly the police caught him.
"We're arresting you on multiple counts of murder, kidnapping, stealing and resisting arrest"
"but I'm only 13"
"We're arresting you on multiple counts of murder, kidnapping, stealing and resisting arrest"
"but I'm only 13"
He ejaculated prematurely on an Oak tree.
Yeah right!!
He rubbed his penis all over it.
what does that mean?
I thought it was phenomenal.
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