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The Neverending Story (1 Viewer)

Trollheart

Senior Member
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.
 

Tim

Friends of WF
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.
 

SueC

Staff member
Senior Mentor
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.
 
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Tim

Friends of WF
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.
 

NoFuchsGiven

Senior Member
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?"
 

Wannabewriter

Senior Member
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.
 

MistWolf

Senior Member
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.
 
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
 

EternalGreen

Senior Member
"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.
 
"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.
“Is it really you, Hector?”
The woman’s eyes darted to and fro, her voice a ragged whisper against the howling winds.
Her grip on the dagger tightened. “Are you now one of them?”
 

Kensa

Senior Member
"One of them? What do you mean?"
It started to rain and she struggled to keep her balance.
Hector heard a crash of thunder, saw the lightning, too soon. The storm was too close.
 

Foxee

Patron
Patron
Bracing himself against the ship's motion with one hand, Hector watched the knife.
A sea-spray-laden wind swept over them both as the ship pitched, the woman's body jerked in surprise.
Hector grabbed for her knife-hand.
 

VRanger

Staff member
Administrator
She started to slash at his reaching arm, but the roll of the deck caused her to slip on the rain-slicked planks. Her feet slid one way, her shoulders tumbled the other, and she was down. She dropped the knife to free her hands to catch her fall. Hector kicked at the loose knife and watched it slide across the deck, under the railing, and disappear into the waves.

His eyes turned back to the woman, struggling to regain her feet. His natural instinct was to step over and help her up. He started forward, then stopped. The woman's actions convinced him she was disturbed ... whether emotionally or mentally, he couldn't judge. He backed up to the railing and grabbed it with a hand to each side.

She finally stopped struggling to rise, facing him on hands and knees, a snarl on her lips.
 
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Foxee

Patron
Patron
A fugitive glimmer ran over her form that might have been the reflection of lightning but Hector thought, temporal displacement?

They swayed on the pitching deck, soaked to the skin, and Hector heard a voice shout from the cabin.

"You guys give one hell of a party!"
 

Kensa

Senior Member
Hector looked down the stairs and grabbed the railing tighter. The woman on her knees slipped across the deck until she bumped into his legs, and stopped there, her jaw hanging.
Inside the cabin, a big tabby cat was stepping carefully between the pools of blood. It frowned at the rain running down the steps.
"I hate storms," it said. "Won't you come in and close the door?"
 

VRanger

Staff member
Administrator
Kensa, I think you scared everyone off with that one! LOL I've waited three days to see who would take up that challenge, which is long enough, so I'm putting it on my shoulders. :)

Hector found himself faced with too many confusing factors at once. First, he woke with either an alcohol or drug hangover. Then, he found a murdered woman in bed with him. Now a woman who called him 'Her Love', threatened him at knife point, and lit up with an effect his sludge-like thinking somehow connected with time travel(?!?), cowered against his knees. He stood in miserable weather, and a talking cat peered out through a cabin door.

How could any of this make sense?

Well, he didn't know this woman, but she seemed to know him. Could that tie in with time travel? Could she be someone from his future? He looked down and noticed a birthmark on her shoulder. A chill colder than the sheets of rain ran through him. The dead woman below had the same birthmark. The glimmer and the mental instability--somehow he knew without knowing how--the effect of a time traveler being in the same time with themselves. He remembered it being described in terms of quantum entanglement. Hector knew he wasn't a physicist, so that's as much detail as he could muster on the subject.

But what about the cat?
 

Foxee

Patron
Patron
"Obviously, you're overthinking this," the cat said, sitting down as though the deck were still as a board on a sunny day and fixing him with a golden stare.

"How?" Hector asked before his brain could rush in and tell him cats can't talk, the cat gave a needle-toothed yawn.

"Doesn't matter but in this weather we'll all drown if you keep standing around instead of doing something useful."
 
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