[tdnewton]

Has anyone ever done one of those writing exercises where they take turns writing on the same story? I haven't actually *done* one, but I've heard they are fun. Frankly, I could use the distraction today, so I'm suggesting we start one.

Let's say, limit it to 1 paragraph each person. Anyone game?

[Seak]

His feet were screaming and he was a million miles from anywhere.

I don't know how I know these things come to think of it,he thought.

"What the heck am I doing here!" he screamed.

It didn't really matter. No one was around. No one could hear him...

[kater]

I'm gonna move this to the collaborative stories section, where there are some good examples of this type of exercise albeit longer than one paragraph in most cases.

[tdnewton]

Thanks kater, guess I didn't see that such a thing existed. Will look into it more over there.

[Hoodwink]

... or so he believed.

The Ghost King watched him from the void. The man's thoughts fizzed like golden streams through the blank light, like urine through snow.

Think of a key, urged the Ghost King. Think of a key that'll fit this lock.

[Expendable]

A cold wind was blowing across the empty moors, making him shiver in his thin jacket. All he could see was thickets of heather like colorful sheep gathering around the few rocks that rose from the grass-covered peat like granite icebergs. The last thing he could remember was the pub, and someone hitting him from behind....

[FremenWarrior]

...It had been dark in the pub, he had had one too many and everything before him was a blur. People melted away as he saw the bottom of yet another tankard and he felt so cold, like ice. His heart began to pound as the shadows grew longer and the figure approached him from behind, with footsteps soft as silk...

[Pirate's Pen]

It would never have ended up like this if only the strange old man hadn't stopped him on his way into town. It seemed harmless at the time- to accept the free drink that he offered- but this was clearly not the result he had anticipated.

[swords]

(*a turn written story is called "Exquisite Corpse" by the early surrealists :D)

His insides felt as if he were on a fast descending elevator yet he still stood. The deep brown fluid had been earthy and fungal tasting. Shapes and patterns danced in the corners of his vision as the molecules attached themselves to neuro-receptor sites, he felt electric and powerful yet a subtle darkness distinctly other seemed to stir within.

[tmso]

Ok...here's my attempt to figure out what this story is about...

...and his feet continued to throb with each heart beat. Gerald turned over on his back and looked up at the clear, dark sky. A metereoite shower was in progress.

He snorted and closed his eyes. He placed his numb, near frost-biten hands over his eyes and wept. Why had he thought it a good idea to take advice from the old beggar? He should have gone into the first tavern, not the second as the old man had suggested.

As tears froze in the dry, cracks on his face, Gerald thought about the Ghost King and his damn key. If he hadn't taken on that challenge, he'd be at home, sleeping next to his warm wife instead on death's door in this empty moor.