Spontaneous Writing Challenge

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Thread: Spontaneous Writing Challenge

  1. #1

    Spontaneous Writing Challenge

    Basically the rules are: you can't leave this post (you clearly can, this part isn't the challenge) without writing something completely off the top of your head, it can be any length, any genre, ANYTHING. But it has to be on the spot and not something you've been working on. I would prefer if there was a serious attempt seeing as there is already a popular thread dedicated to purposely bad writing.
    This is just a fun, army-styled intensive writing challenge - the most exciting sentence ever written.

    It says "1" in the title due to a glitch, btw.

    I will start off and try my own. (Language)

    "I fucking swear down, mate. When he got up he thought he was black for like 5 seconds."

    "I'm going to stop listening to you now."

    "Ask Jimmy, he will tell you the exact same thing."

    "You did not punch someone so hard they thought that they were black, Tyler."

    "Punch you so hard in a minute you little shit."

    Jack and Tyler glanced at each other and grinned widely as Courtney and Abbie sat opposite them bearing drinks. The pub was packed and the noise of elated muffled talking filled the air.

    "How old did you two say you were again?" asked Tyler.

    "I'm 23, Abbie's 24. What about you?"

    "We're both 20" said Tyler. This is a lie, they are both 17.

    An awkward silence fell between them all which Tyler saw as an opportunity to begin working his charm.

    "Have you ladies ever heard of the Illuminati?" Jack muttered Jesus' name to let Tyler know of his disapproval but Tyler didn't care.

    "It's like this organization type thing, right, and they just pretty much control everything, like all the rappers and presidents of the world. Apparently, this is what I've heard but i might be bollocks, they are run by lizards from space."

    "Oh my fucking God, yes!" Courtney shouted, overpowering all other sounds in the pub and attracting eyes. When she realized she and Abbie giggled at each other playfully. Jack knew he wouldn't like these girls.

    Courtney and Tyler wasted no time in jumping in to a debate about how influential the Illuminati actually were, Tyler thought very, Courtney thought "even more than very."

    Jack looked at his designated girl carefully and decided she was nice enough looking. As far as he was aware non of his friends have slept with a black girl before so he saw this as his chance to become a trend setter.

    "What do you do, Abbie?"

    "I'm a drama student. I'm quite active in the Green Party though so that takes up a lot of my time. I go on a lot of protests and stuff."

    Fucking hell.

    "Ah that's really interesting. So do you act and all that jazz? Excuse the pun." he said with a smile.

    "Yeah we act but we don't do jazz." He quickly realized she was being serious and became anxious to leave. However, it was obvious at this point that Tyler would only leave if Courtney was with him. He braved conversation once more.

    "How long have you known Courtney?"

    "Like 2 years. It was weird though because my horoscope said I would meet someone that year with blonde hair and a name that began with C, but Courtney has brown hair so I was really confused."

    "I can imagine."

    "Jack, me and Courtney are going back to her place, she knows these video's on YouTube that pretty much prove the Illuminati exist."

    "I live in the same halls as Courtney so you could come with me if you wanted?" Jack couldn't believe his luck.

    "Erm, yeah, okay then."

    Tyler let out his biggest smile and attempted to high- five Jack which he thought was a bit inappropriate.

    As the girls left to go to the toilet before they all departed for halls. Tyler turned to his happy friend.

    "This is going to be SO sick! Do you reckon' they'll give us a foursome?"

    "Haha, I don't know, mate. I fucking hope so, we would be Gods."

    They both frowned with confusion as an unfamiliar and aggressive voice addressed them from behind.

    "Oi, you fucking prick. Stare at me and my mates one more time and i'll fucking drop you, you dopey prick."

    The smell of beer radiated from the man like heat, his face was haggard and scared.

    "Fuck off back to your mates before I wrap a pint glass across your face, you ugly mug." The man was obviously taken aback from Tyler's retort and quickly lost confidence when Tyler stood, showing his height and width like a gorilla trying to impress a potential mate. Jack was watching the aggressor friends stood at the bar. Unsurprisingly, Jack thought, the man began walking backwards to his mates, occasionally swearing at Tyler.
    The girls appeared from the toilets non the wiser and they all left the pub.

    Tyler, after a lot of subtle hand sliding, finally managed to place his palm on Courtney's arse as they were walking. Jack was listening to Abbie about her super hard dance routine she had to come with by Monday.

    As Tyler hit the floor and the girls screamed the pissed man shouted "who's the big man now, you fucking mug!"

    Jack instinctively punched the man as hard as he possibly could which turned out not to be very hard. It was enough to send the man running back to the pub however and for him to check on Tyler.
    30 seconds after being rolled on his side Tyler regained conscientious and looked at Jack like a startled deer.

    "What happened?"

    "That bloke hit you from behind."

    "Where is he, I will knock him out."

    "He ran off, mate."

    "Where are the girls?"

    "Fuck knows. Must have ran off too."

    "Why do bad things happen to good people."

    Jack laughed as he pulled Tyler to his feet.

    "Well I just proved my point. I thought I was black when I woke up."

    They both laughed and walked home.

    This is obviously not very good, the pace is too fast and whatnot but I think you get the gist. Just have a go, could end up stumbling on to your next WIP.
    Last edited by Apple Ice; March 18th, 2014 at 09:20 PM.

  2. #2
    "Look, there are two ways this can go down," said Boxer. "I can shove you off the plane, or you can fly us to Washington State."

    "First off, this isn't a plane," said Dr. Bones. "Secondly, I'm a doctor, not a pilot, and you're in a mental asylum."

    "FLY US TO WASHINGTON," screamed Boxer.

    Dr. Bones sighed. His trick hadn't worked. He turned the plane around.

  3. #3

    I've made my peace with it, but still get wistful when I drink the stuff. It's like someone puts their hand down into my esophagus and tickles my kidneys from the front-side, see. Since Abigail tore her phone number out of my little contacts-book, I don't even think of her anymore. Bitch woke up before me, so I'm told, and had quietly lifted all my vinyl and half my collection of fifties-era Betty White memorabilia. When I awoke, it'd been like my top brain was swimming in syrupy booze, but the bottom half dried out and felt the electric sizzle of cold air.

    She sits in a chair, staring at me with a piece of tape across her mouth. I'm no better off, hands tied and feet bound to the bottom part of whatever kind of god-awful chair I'm in. She's got an urgent look in those wide blue eyes, but something practiced about the look throws me off. She's been here before, it seems.
    "Hey, asshole -" the stumpy little man says, walking around her chair and directly toward me, "haven't I told you to keep your fucking eyes off the girl? Don't even think about her. I'll cut you. Wanna fucking test me?" He paces between us, throwing his hands up in the air as he talks, forcing shadows and bright flashes of light as he walks between the lamp and where I sit. I make the mistake of smirking with my eyes. He doesn't scare me, but I'm sure he's capable of goon-style violence. He comes at me with both hands outstretched, and grabs my head. I'm defenseless, but I tighten the muscles in my neck against his attempt to snap my neck. He pushes one way on my jaw, and the other on my temple, straining with the effort. I'm reminded of Danny DeVito in Romancing the Stone, so I keep my panic reflex in check.

    He turns away, panting and embarrassed. During the struggle and his impotent display, I've managed to loosen the binding on my wrists, and I choose my moment wisely. I reach down while he's not looking and untie my ankles. He's catching his breath, so I work quickly and stand up. I'm a solid foot taller than him, and twice his weight. I grab him up by the neck and crotch, and smash his head into the concrete wall over and over and again and again, until pulpy white stuff is covering my arm and warm blood runs down my side. I drop his limp body and look over at her. She's terrified.
    Last edited by Pluralized; December 20th, 2013 at 10:47 PM. Reason: Bah.

  4. #4
    Member BryanJ62's Avatar
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    Apr 2013
    Eugene, Oregon
    A Monsterís Confession

    May I begin with a confession: I love a good scare. I do not mean the kind of scare found in a horror novel or from a movie on a Halloween night. No, I mean a real scare. The kind where noises can be heard from impossible places. Sounds of a baby's cry heard deep inside the walls of a two-story home. Or a lullaby of laughter dancing its way from the depths of one's basement. A noise so hideous it makes your neck curl up inside. A sound you can hear but never see. A feeling of helplessness that something is crawling closer and closer until it wraps its furry arms around you in its darkness. And it can only be heard when you are alone. All alone. You know it is death.

    I love a good scare.

    Allow me to introduce myself, I am a monster. I have no other name. I am the one who scares you at night.

    I doubt you have ever seen me. I use to scare you when you were small. Guilty. When you were a child I use to whisper your name soft like a song until you woke in a chill of fright. Remember me? I would scratch the walls that surrounded your bed as you lay snug beneath the covers. My nails bleeding your name. Scratching a little harder, calling your name a little louder and stopping the moment you cried for your mother. Now do you remember? Poor little dear.

    As an adult you never forgot who I was. Nor did you ever forgive me for what I did. You made excuses never to clean under your bed. Never to look for that special something if by chance it may be hidden below where you sleep. You lied to yourself and denied to your spouse your fear of the dark and what may be hidden under your bed or what may lurk between the walls.

    Your hands would hide beneath the covers, your blanket held tight above your ears. Oh yes, I own you. I control your nightmares.

    But lets stop for a moment. Enough bragging for today. I want to confess a small little secret. The secret is something I have kept hidden for eternity. No matter how much I bath in the comfort of your fear, drinking a toast to my own private party, I must confess with a pocket full of sorrow, if I had one wish to make I would like to be you for just one day.

    I would like to be alive. I would like to have a day where I wake to a world where everything is bright. I would like to walk tall and feel the soft carpet tickle beneath my feet. I want to walk outside and smell the flowers, feel the wind in my face while standing beneath a bright blue sky. I want to feel the sun bake my tender skin as if I were a tasty biscuit browning inside a morning oven.

    I want to know why you laugh, why you feel sadness and why you cry when someone dies.

    I want to feel another human being. Their warmth pressed against my body. Would I be sad or would I be happy? What does it feel like to make love?

    I want to be angry. I want to stare into a mirror and watch my face turn as red as lava. I want to throw objects against the wall and scream in frustration. I want to yell DAMN YOU and THE HELL WITH YOU and cry in someone's arms when I am lonely. I wish to be the sensitive type.

    I want to touch and smell and rub sex all over me. I would like to swim in it as if I were a fish in the deepest part of the ocean. Diving deeper and deeper until the darkness surrounds me for eternity. I envy you. Oh, how I envy you.

    I wish I were not a monster for one day. Poor little me.

  5. #5
    Thank you all for giving it as go.
    Blimey, all of your stories are very impressive, put mine to shame. All very original and fresh.

    Just read through mine again, apologies for the constant grammatical and Syntax errors as well as the generally bad story telling. I will redouble my efforts and try again soon.

  6. #6
    Hey, AI - I thought yours was pretty good, actually. This is a fun thread.

  7. #7
    "Hi Sarah, this is Beth from child services. We have a possible placement that we would like to discuss with you. Do you have a couple minutes?"
    The voice on the other end of the phone line struck the perfect balance between cheerfulness and professional detachment. Female, of course. All the employees at the agency were female and usually young. You tended to get burned out quickly when you were inundated every day with horrors. The rundown was the same story that I had heard dozens of times. Heroin. A young mother in trouble with the law, no idea who the father was. Only the age was different with this one. An newborn, only two days old.
    "Any health problems?" I asked. Not so far but they had very little information. The mother had been stopped by the cops for a traffic violation and the car was filled with heroin, dirty needles, and a baby that would not stop crying. "Yeah, we will take her." Life was quiet right now. The children were all in school and the house seemed empty during the hours that they were gone.
    The car arrived an hour later, a baby brought by a stork in a bright red Explorer. A hectic hour, trying to find all the baby things that were stashed in closets and under beds. I ran out to meet Melanie in the driveway. She had been here before, delivering children that stayed, sometimes for a night, and sometimes for months. She smiled and handed me a pink car seat.
    And I was fourteen again, allowed to hold the baby one time before she was taken away. She was lovely, with a head of dark curls and pink cheeks that curved into a smile. Gas, they told me, but knew it was a smile.
    Last edited by CarrieD; December 22nd, 2013 at 03:39 AM. Reason: missing text

  8. #8
    The leather of his holster creaked against his leg as he slowly walked into the town. Something wasn’t right—there should have been people sitting on the balconies and horses tethered to the posts outside the buildings, but the town was empty. When he pushed through the saloon doors he found out why.

    People were sprawled on the floor and laying across tables. The coppery smell of blood was thick and he bent to examine the body by his feet. They'd been shot in the back of the head. Every one of them. It was like they'd been lined up and executed.

    It looked as if Poke and his boys had moved up from cattle thieves to murderers then. What a way to start the week. He'd only hoped for a bath, maybe a shave, and one of the local girls to keep him company while he drank himself stupid. He stepped over the bodies and went around the back of the bar where he uncorked a bottle of whiskey. It was cheap stuff, but it would do.

    He took a long pull from the bottle and pushed a skinny man in a suit out of a chair at one of the tables. The dead man hit the floor with a thump and the stranger sat down in his place. He drank whiskey while he thought about what he was going to do.

    "Life is a risk; so is writing. You have to love it." ~ Richard Matheson

  9. #9
    Sorry guys new to this but I'll give it a go ...

    An owl screeched, a wolf howled and a cold sharp wind blew through the trees. Fog snaked its way around tall beech trees, creating a river of blindness in the woods. It was a deathly night, the presence of the grim reaper stalked the darkness like a hawk stalks a mouse. The moonlight attacked the floor with a silver poison that smothered its victim and lit it up for the world to see, and point and laugh at its foolishness. Everything about this night was sinister. Nothing was inviting. Even the friendly chirp of a grasshopper sounded more like a haunting nursery rhyme sung by the devils children.

  10. #10
    The Dragon quietly stepped behind his next helpless victim. His eyes burned as he reached deep in his pocket for the switchblade. He began to get a hard-on as he grasped the female by the neck and dragged her into the dark alleyway. As the knife approached the silky throat he felt her hand, quicker and stronger than expected, grab his knife hand. He felt his own body become helpless as he was slammed to the dust-covered ground. He looked up and saw a .38 special pointed at his skull. He began to cry. Then he heard the words that he had often spoken, drilled back into his face.

    "Any last words, bitch?"

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