Thread: Write this scene!

I thought this might be a bit of fun for us all, and will help to stretch the imaginations.

Basically, look at this photo and write a scene. The scene could be an action sequence, a description, a thought-pattern, a story being told, a character introduction, a poem - anything that you are inspired to write by viewing this picture.

Once you have done that, find a new pic that you feel is interesting and post below your 'scene' for the next person and so on and so forth.

Here's the first pic. Enjoy!!

The waves rumbled and roared, sending bursts of noise towards the shore. As the surf receeded once more, a body washed up on the beach, unconscious but alive. He was a captain of a ship, the Sea King, and his ship ran headlong into a gathering of rocks nearby. He survived, but the danger wasnt over yet. As he lay there, another, more monstrous wave raced toward the shore, ready to sweep him back into the sea. Who will save him? Will he be saved? Should he be saved?

http://pantransit.reptiles.org/image...ain-forest.png

His classmates voices had disappeared long ago. Now, only the faint rustling of leaves kept his company. Jonny ran his finger along the bark of the tree beside him, tracing the grains of age. The leaves that carpetted the ground rustled every few moments, and a war waged below him between ant and termite. Jonny didn't care, however. He looked about him for sign of brown fur or footprint. There was none. The chill of the wind crept up his arms and back.

Jonny sighed. 'When will I ever know if bears really do shit in the woods?'

http://www.officialdarajoy.com/Images/Tavern.jpg

heh,

-Fantasy

Life in seclusion was hardly what David had expected would become of him. He was blind now and only Rochy, his dog kept him company, as humans disgusted him. Yes, he was blind, a blind hunter as a matter of fact, though he hid his misted eyes under shaded spectacles, forever ashamed of exactly how his condition came to be.
It would haunt him again this day, how he had lost his vision.
Rochy barked and perked up, David turned from his game, looking about, "Who's there?" He ventured warilly.
"Have you forgotten me already, David?" A voice of a strange oxymoronic evil-purity came to his ears, a voice not unfamiliar to old Dave.
"It can't be, haven't you tormented me enough, woman?!" He brought his gun close, shivering in fear.
"Oh my man," He heard the footsteps approach him, "My Hero; my man." The stepping stopped, David's ears raising as to denote any sound unnusual in his sect of forest. A sharpened fingernail carressed his cheek, causing the man to jump up in shock as a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. Rochy growled as the fingernail's feel was followed by the most suple of skins.
"No." David said, the word barely passing his lips.
"But my Hero; my man, don't you love me?" The voice spoke evily with a mocking sting. Distempered breath came close to David's face and smooth hands cupped his head, causing the blind man to writhe about in terror, his breathing becoming jagged.
"STAY AWAY!! I'VE ESCAPED YOU ONCE, NOW LEAVE ME BE!!!" David cried in desperation.
"Come closer, dear heart, touch your lips to mine as you once had desired..." She spoke soothingly now, though it remained seeped in sublime malice. Rochy began to bark loudly.
"No..." Though David knew his voice held doubt, he could almost feel her smile darkly at this "denial".
"Of course not...my Hero...my man..." They're lips touched and David felt a cruel mix of delight and pain as his soul fled from his lips.
Rochy meerly whined and bowed his head in fear; love was truly more frightening than any other force this world held.

Wonderfully dark :3

http://www.bassplace.freeserve.co.uk...p_wash_big.jpg

As, he f3ell he wonderedWas it all really nessacry?Did he really have fake his death to thos extreme to avoid the IRS?

You forgot a picture, Quillpen

"Leave the boy alone or face the consequences!" The muggers looked up in astonishment as a black clad figure plummeted down from the rooftop, landing head first in the garbage container. There was a few seconds of stunned silence while they tried to reconnect with reality.

"Is he dead?", the taller one finally managed. "What the fuck was that?", his bald companion replied, holding a young boy by the ankles, pennies dropping out of his pockets.

"Aha!" A head suddenly appeared from the container, "You mean WHO the fuck was that". "For I am none other than CAPTAIN REALITY".

The two villains looked at eachother. Then at the small man fighting ferverously to climb out of his fortunate landing pod. Then back at eachother again.

Captain Reality finally got one foot over the edge of the container, shifted his weight and landed on the asphalt with all the grace of a dizzy penguin. He brushed an old sock off his shoulder as he gave the culprits his most menacing stare. "As I said, leave the boy alone or face the consequences".

"..what the fuck IS this?", the bald man tried again. His face had the expression of a man who had just seen the impossible. Or Jackie Collins prior to her facelift. "I.. I dont think I can deal with this". He put the boy gently down and started to back away. "Yeah, lets get out of here", his sidekick replied.

"Thats right, Flee you Foul Foolish ... " Captain Reality stopped mid sentence looking perplexed. "Hmm..". The boy got up on his feet. "Thank you sir". "FELONS, thats the word", Captain Reality turned and shouted after the long gone muggers, "you Foul Foolish Felons".

Satisfied, he turned his attention to the young boy now trying to gather his change from the ground. "There is no need to thank me young one, it is all in a days work". The boy looked up. "Sir, you have a piece of lettuce stuck to your chin". Captain Reality peeled the leaf away from his face and looked at it for a second before deciding to put it in his mouth. He started walking out of the alley, "All in a days work my son, all in a days work".

--
Sorry about reposting an earlier image and writing about that. I just wanted to try something other than the inital tradegy the picture instills and see if that could work.

Here is one for the next person:

Regarding Kenewbie's bottom image-
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"Really," she stated with a tremulous smile, peering through a red maze of capillaries at the camera, "really, it's the best I've EVER used." The corner of her lip began to twitch wildly. "I GAURanTEE it!" She thrust the can of Cerami-Hold Hair Spray forward as if presenting the twitching body of a car- crushed squirrel.

She held the pose for an infinite second more... and then the smile poured from her face like sugar from a ripped sack. She cast desperate eyes across the stone-faced crew arrayed before her. "We're done, right... that was good, wasn't it?"

Silence.

"For the LOVE of GOD, tell me that this is OVER!!"

"Y'know, luv..." came a voice from behind the camera, "...I still think we can give it one more go." It filled with cheerful and plastic bonhommie. "What d'ye say, hey, baby? One more." One of the crew shifted a lamp and the light collected and flashed from the Director's sunglasses and gap-toothed grin.

The woman's cheeks seemed to suck in on themselves. "One more..." Suddenly, she began to chuckle. "One MORE."

Her hand fumbled at the fanny pack she was wearing under the towel, out of view of the camera. "ONE MOooore..." She gave a short cackle as she wrenched a lighter from the fanny pack.

"Yeah. Let's have one more, fucker." She rushed forward, raising the hairspray can, thumb twitching on the lighter flint...

"Heh, heh...One..." FWOOOoooosshhh!

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And, mine own challenging image -

Sitting at a corner table in the Flying Pig on High Street, Sir Charles Darkenlurker, the great 19th-century romance novelist, searches through his notebook, page-by-page, trying to find the number of the girl he'd met, here, just last week.


"Girl, 18-22, light brown hair -- Voice like lemon butter-creams that melted on my ear, and pulled my eyes down fast to the valley of her winsome thighs ..."


No, not her. Her thighs were more like ... like "pudding on a spit." Yes -- difficult to roast, but the idea of it, somehow, fulfilling in itself.


"Girl, 26-34, possibly a Viking -- Hair like frosted angel's breath hanging on the moor, her breasts so softened by the dew ..."


No, not her. Her chest ... had more "boyish" charm, than "moorish."


Damn. Some day I bet there'll be a better way -- of keeping track of nookie.



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next

Jonathen couldn't wit as he got his order.He had been hearing about this hotdog for weeks,it seseame seed bun,a ton of ingrediants and a taste to die for supposedly.Just one more mi ute and it would be his finally.
"Uh... sir I'm afraid you cut this lady in line"
"Really?But i've already made my order can she wait a minute.?"
"Sorry,sir but i'm really hungry anything will do youmright after me though can you can reorder." the woman said.
"Helllo!May I take you Order? "
"I'm taking the next thing out of the kitchen he cut me in line."
"Wow,you're lucky this is the last hot dog we have left.Here you go Ma'am" At that Jonatthen pulled his gun and shot the woman.He then grabbed the hot dog.After all it was to die for.He would die soon enough for the shooting.