The Neverending Story


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Thread: The Neverending Story

  1. #1
    Offline: Depressed Trollheart's Avatar
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    The Neverending Story

    For those of a certain age, I bet that has put the Limahl song in your head! Sorry about that. For others, it's possibly visualising Peter Griffin crashing on a dragon ("You're too heavy buddy. Goin' down!")

    But they have actually nothing to do with this, and it's not any sort of an original idea, but I don't see it implemented here anywhere else. If it is, kick me up the arse and send me on my way. If not, read on...

    The goal is to write a long story (how long? Guess if there's enough interest we, or the story itself, will decide) by having everyone add lines to it. I think a limit of three lines per person per round, though you can make those lines as long as you want. You don't have to slavishly follow whatever develops, but you should read what's gone before and try to build on that. Diversions can be written and then turned back, if the next person wants, to the original direction ("oh that was only a dream" - yeah I know but you get it, or "so that would have happened if I'd done that but I'm doing this" etc) or the story can be pulled off in a complete tangent. That's the whole (intended) fun of it.

    Probably don't need rules. Do anything you like, but restrict yourself to three lines total per turn and in fairness, let someone else have a go before you try again. Open to everyone and anyone, regardless of skill, experience or sexual preference. Um. Any genre, or, hell, mix up genres, why not? Let your imagination run wild.

    Unsurprisingly, I'll kick it off.

    Reaching his arm lazily out to the left of the bed, Hector was mildly surprised to feel something wet, and blinking his eyes open to the new morning, just as the alarm clock chirped, he brought his hand up to his face. It was warm, and sticky, and wet with fresh blood. Sitting up in shock, he stared at the brutally butchered body of the woman who occupied the other side of the bed, a woman whose face he didn't know, and was unlikely ever to know, given how mutilated that, and the whole of her body, now was.
    Come away, human child to the waters and the wild
    With a faery hand in hand.
    For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. - WB Yeats "The Stolen Child"

    I drink to forget, but I never forget to drink.

    "If the real Jesus Christ were to stand up today
    He'd be gunned down cold by the CIA" - The The, "Armageddon Days Are Here (Again)" - Mind Bomb, 1989


    The most destructive force on the planet is not nukes or global warming...it is the human ego. - Ralph Rotten

  2. #2
    Quote Originally Posted by Trollheart View Post

    Reaching his arm lazily out to the left of the bed, Hector was mildly surprised to feel something wet, and blinking his eyes open to the new morning, just as the alarm clock chirped, he brought his hand up to his face. It was warm, and sticky, and wet with fresh blood. Sitting up in shock, he stared at the brutally butchered body of the woman who occupied the other side of the bed, a woman whose face he didn't know, and was unlikely ever to know, given how mutilated that, and the whole of her body, now was.
    Hector shook his head to try to clear his fuddled brain, which only made the throbbing pain worse. He stared at the faceless woman, watching her dangling arm swing to and fro with a strange regularity. It all started to make sense, now that he was fully awake: somehow he was in the cabin of a boat.

  3. #3
    Sorry Trollheart, I think I broke the never-ending story

  4. #4
    Quote Originally Posted by Tim View Post
    Hector shook his head to try to clear his fuddled brain, which only made the throbbing pain worse. He stared at the faceless woman, watching her dangling arm swing to and fro with a strange regularity. It all started to make sense, now that he was fully awake: somehow he was in the cabin of a boat.
    The rocking was nauseating, but it all seemed to go with everything else; the dead woman, bleeding all hell and gone and oh no!; did he hear sloshing? Hoping fervently that it wasn't blood making the noise, which would indicate more than just one person bleeding out, but then again if it was water, it meant he was in a different kind of trouble. Hector stood in the middle of the planks and spied a short stairwell that he hoped would lead him out - out to where he could only guess, but when he opened the cabin door, his shock was increased ten fold by what he saw.
    When the night has come
    And the land is dark
    And the moon is the only light we'll see
    I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid
    Just as long as you stand by me.


  5. #5
    The Neverending Story . . . so far . . .

    Reaching his arm lazily out to the left of the bed, Hector was mildly surprised to feel something wet, and blinking his eyes open to the new morning, just as the alarm clock chirped, he brought his hand up to his face. It was warm, and sticky, and wet with fresh blood. Sitting up in shock, he stared at the brutally butchered body of the woman who occupied the other side of the bed, a woman whose face he didn't know, and was unlikely ever to know, given how mutilated that, and the whole of her body, now was.

    Hector shook his head to try to clear his fuddled brain, which only made the throbbing pain worse. He stared at the faceless woman, watching her dangling arm swing to and fro with a strange regularity. It all started to make sense, now that he was fully awake: somehow he was in the cabin of a boat.

    The rocking was nauseating, but it all seemed to go with everything else; the dead woman, bleeding all hell and gone and oh no!; did he hear sloshing? Hoping fervently that it wasn't blood making the noise, which would indicate more than just one person bleeding out, but then again if it was water, it meant he was in a different kind of trouble. Hector stood in the middle of the planks and spied a short stairwell that he hoped would lead him out - out to where he could only guess, but when he opened the cabin door, his shock was increased ten fold by what he saw.
    The problem with understanding people is: the more you understand, the less you will believe in miracles.

  6. #6
    The body of a man, slumped on the stairs in a puddle of blood, with both wrists slashed. The strangest feeling of familiarity struck Hector as he looked at the face of the man and he realised that he'd seen this man before.

    A slightly gurgled cough, from somewhere above, took Hector's attention away from the man and he asked, "Is there somebody there?"

  7. #7
    The gurgled coughs increased in intensity. It was somebody being sick, up on the deck of the boat. A woman. He called out again. "Hello, can you hear me? Are you OK?". The coughs subsided, almost as if the woman was trying to silence herself. She was afraid of being heard.

  8. #8
    Hector swayed and pressed a hand to his throbbing head, too weak to climb the stair. The woman turned toward him, straightened and the hand she wiped her mouth with held a bloody dagger. "It was self defense" she said.

  9. #9
    Quote Originally Posted by MistWolf View Post
    Hector swayed and pressed a hand to his throbbing head, too weak to climb the stair. The woman turned toward him, straightened and the hand she wiped her mouth with held a bloody dagger. "It was self defense" she said.
    "I am not a murderer" repeating rigorously to prove her innocance to hector, hector has not come out of the shock yet but all he was feeling was pain not knowing which part of his body is responsible for this pain. Suddenly the woman shouted Hector Oo hector my love..

    Sent from my M2007J20CG using Tapatalk

  10. #10
    "My love?" said Hector, still taking in the macabre scene of gore. "Who the fuck are you?"

    The woman didn't reply but crumbled her face at this answer. Hundreds of miles of black sloshing water isolated the pair. Maybe Hector could reason with her or keep her distracted.

    "Who were they? What were they trying to do?" Hector asked in the starlight.

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