Read a story. Write the twist. Set the next one.

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1.

Suggested props: paper bag, juggler and family feud.

I was working late. No, that's the short version. I always have to work late because my boss is a lazy sexist chancer who thinks that I exist to fix the problems he has created because... I was working late. Really late. A Tescos sandwich and a various cans of alcoholic and energy-gifting drinks sat in dry puddles of their own effleunce. That's when I heard the photocopier going. It's connected to just about every office in the building and even some offices that aren't in the building. So it wasn't unusual for it to start to print off at this time. But it had been going for quite sometime and the incessent beeping that accompanied every paper churn was getting to my exhausted mind. So I went over to the printer. I picked up the first page expecting to see some spreadsheet and instead was presented with a single word. You. I flicked to the next sheet. Are. Going. To. Last page: die.

Written by David Jackson

1

Next chapter: Lose the protagonist

2.

Suggested props: nut, circus performer and blasphemy.

I came in this morning and Karen wasn't in. Which was annoying because it meant that I missed a call with the Japanese office. Her desk was a mess. It looked like she'd decided to have a party there. I should have treated it as a disciplinary issue, but I have a soft spot for that girl. Woman. I try ringing but get no response. Later in the afternoon, I head over to get some printouts and find a telephone book of A4 sheets already printed. I read through them. HELP says one page. ME! says another. It's like some art project that my 15 year old daughter would do. I look through more of it. Where/ am/ I/ ?/ HELP!
I realise the printer is out of paper. So I refill the cartridge with a new stack. It powers up again and starts printing out. I check the first page: BRIAN! (which is weird - I'm Brian.)
IT's
KAREN!
I'M
STUCK
IN
THE
PRINTER!
That's when I look around for TV cameras.

Written by David Jackson

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

3.

Suggested props: nut, artist and violence.

“Get me Bill Murphy, immediately,” said Brian. Brian waited on the line, staring one of twelve 3D-dimesions in his office, he concentrated to a commerce sexy girl walks around on a bench for a while before revealing the product, perfume labeled: BLASPHEMY. A NUT commercial followed, before

“Yeah boss is everything good? Frank said it was urgent.” Said Bill Murphy the head of security.

“No, something weird is going on. Review the security tapes from last night. I think the Juggler may have returned for revenge, then scourer the entire building he’s call card,” said Brian.

“You mean paper bag with the picture inside?”

“Exactly.”

People called him the JUGGLER because he grew up among circus-folk although somewhere along there was a family feud of some kind; he supposedly killed his father. Now, he was the most sophisticated hacker in the world.

"Boss, I don't see anything.

Written by Jack.Ryan

1

Next chapter: Use one long continuous sentence.

4.

Suggested props: nut, artist and violence.

Written by Jack.Ryan

1

Next chapter: none

5.

Suggested props: penny, accountant and argument.


Written by

1

Next chapter: Switch perspective

1.

Suggested props: broken window, juggler and bigotry.

The mushrooms were flying around and the sky was purple ... I breathed in the smoke and floated around. Man, that was cool. I looked around and we were all spaced out. There seemed to be a teddy bear, and a soldier in a bearskin, and a mermaid. We were trying different stuff, gear from foreign parts, untried and untested. We certainly shooted up some shit. My mind was hazy. I tried to move but was paralyzed, my limbs heavy and leaden. I could remember that. There are parts I can't remember, but I could remember that, that feeling of helplessness. The room was shifting, the earth was spinning. I might even have died. In fact I nearly did. I remember someone coming into the room. The laugh was manic, like a hyena. Then I felt pain. Serious pain man. Shit. He was hacking at my limbs and there was nothing I could do about it. He didn't want stuff, he wanted us,piece by piece.

Written by crewe1

4

Next chapter: Switch perspective

2.

Suggested props: sausage, monkey and unrequited love.

I still had sleep in my eyes and I had not yet adjusted to the light that was seeping through the far window above the landing. I moved, probably very slowly downstairs, yet it felt as if my feet where trying to escape from me. I wondered into the lounge ready to take my usual seat on the sofa and watch the Disney channel until Dad came to annoy me to get ready for school. Instead I was met by the mess that is my brother, twirling around the room like a mad name declaring 'mushrooms, mushrooms'.
He's an embarrassment to himself. I contemplated going to wake Dad and dob him in it, but instead I took out my phone and videoed him. just wait until I put this online.
'I hurt, I hurt, Life is soooo pure' he's screaming at the ceiling and now he's on his back laughing like a mad man. I can't wait for him to move out.

Written by crewe2

1

Next chapter: Use only questions

3.

Suggested props: broken window, pilot and family feud.

Ha ha ha. Look at this bro? Aren't you the cool guy? What did you do that for? He croaked. 'Was you really flying then? 'I think I was? 'What the hell did you take?' 'What was lying around?' 'Some strange shit. Where did you get it from? 'I htink it was from Druggie Dougie wasn't it? 'How should I know?' 'Did you grass me up then?' 'What do you think haha?'

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Or write your own

4.

Suggested props: gold ring, pilot and blasphemy.

[Medical summary of the case of Y012]

These were the notes found in a journal of a sociopath known now institutionalized for butchering the legs, however, to psychologist he remains a medical anomaly; based on every test they’d administered this man known as patient Y012 suffered several severe disorders that appear to have created a penchant for violence but most notably for his ability to detach himself from any grounding in reality, everything to Y012 occurs in a realm of fantasy.

When we interviewed him in August he talked about someone harming him, chopping off his limbs, and he was unaware these were descriptions of some of his own crimes. Then again, he seems to have been describing his family, although his brother who was called in to talk to use revealed, everything Y012 told us was really his experiences not his brothers.

Written by Dexter

1

The End

1.

Suggested props: cheese, monkey and bigotry.

Testing

Written by David John Jackson

0

Next chapter: Use only questions

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1.

Suggested props: office block, lost child and betrayal.

This is the story about a doctrine. You'll like it or you won't but it happened and it involved the notorious gangster of the south seas, Small Bait.

Written by David John Jackson

0

Next chapter: Use one long continuous sentence.

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2.

Suggested props: dead animal, circus performer and trickery.

Is this still working?

Written by David John Jackson

1

Next chapter: Write using words with only one syllable

3.

Suggested props: anvil, juggler and trickery.

Is it?

Written by David John Jackson

1

Next chapter:

4.

Suggested props: paper bag, dying person and betrayal.

This is the end

Written by David John Jackson

1

Next chapter: none

1.

Suggested props: cheese, circus performer and argument.

Test

Written by David John Jackson

0

Next chapter: Test

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1.

Suggested props: penny, circus performer and unrequited love.

Huw found the scroll whilst working in the university library. He was trying to find early accounts of bigamy and he found it rolled to the back of the carefully kept shelves in a now forgotten collection. At first he thought it could be relevant to his work but soon realised that it was nothing to do with being over-married. Rather, it was a lurid account of a battle between two powerful men intent on destroying the civilisation that the other held dear.

Written by David John Jackson

0

Next chapter: Write in one-word sentences

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1.

Suggested props: secret stash, monkey and argument.

They let them take me. My family locked their doors against the noise and let the men in suits drag me away.
Not even Mummy came to save me.
Daddy didn't like me - neither did Col, so they wouldn't have come to save me.
But I wished Mummy would. I used to dream about how she would rescue me from all the bad people in masks. She would swing a big sword and cut out everybody's hearts.
Mummy hasn't come to save me, yet, but that's because she can't. That's because Daddy and Col let them take Mummy, too, and she's trapped somewhere.
My room is pretty. It's pink and has lots of horses painted on the walls. But I don't like pretty things.
My room at home wasn't pretty. But that's 'cause we were poor and Mummy and Daddy couldn't afford stuff.
But maybe Daddy was pretending to be poor, so we couldn't have nice things, but we still had to stay forever.
Just like Daddy pretended I'm a girl.

Written by Maggie C. Lyons

1

Next chapter: Lose the protagonist

2.

Suggested props: sausage, juggler and bigotry.

So I disappear. Carefully constructed as I was from well-known neuroses. My performance sprang from my contempt for all weakness, a sort of bigotry that despised all forms of humanity except my own. everyone could juggle sausages in a bear pit for all I cared. All I want was to be let out of the room. So I act like a normal person for two weeks. My physician treats me with suspicion, but when I meet the board, they decide I am ready to be integrated with the other patients again.

Written by David John Jackson

1

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

3.

Suggested props: nut, accountant and blasphemy.

'Where you been?'
'I'm not talking to you.'
'Don't be like that.'
'Don't you be like that.'
'Anyway you are. Talking.'

'No. Not any more. I've said all I'm going to say.'
'Suit yourself.'


'I'm livid.'

Written by David John Jackson

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

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1.

Suggested props: gold ring, artist and unrequited love.

"It's ard to say wot dun er in," the constable said as he looked about nervously. Strictly speaking, the constable was not supposed to be here talking to me.
Then again, nobody was supposed to be talking to me. I'm a journalist, but that's not the point. Well, I say I'm a journalist - I run a blog.
I nod, taking in every word the constable says without a voice recorder, or even the old-fashioned pen and paper in my hands, which constitutes the last means of face-to-face communication left to me.
I wrote: WAS THERE A SYMBOL LIKE THIS ANYWHERE?
I drew a face - two dots for eyes and a padlock for a mouth.
the constable shuffled his feet.
"Yeah," he said, "it was sprayed on the floor by er ed." I nodded in reply. "Listen," he said, "I don't much like you lot - you're weird - but I av a funny feeling you need to know."
Suddenly a whistling bullet sprayed his brains over my face. I ran.

Written by Maggie C. Lyons

1

Next chapter: Change tense

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1.

Suggested props: stolen glasses, naked person and savagery.

Arriving at consciousness, Laura feels hot drips of matter fall on her from the ceiling. She moves from the lie to the sit; as her palms press her up, they tell her that she was asleep on a single bed. Rheum crumbles from her eyes as she rubs them with the second knuckles of her forefingers. The drops continue. They sear her scalp, her shoulders her forearms; she wraps herself in the quilt. She looks at her forearm and sees azure globs that have dried and are drying: Wax. She looks up, shields face with her right forearm. The expanse of the ceiling melts; the walls melt. Only the floor looks solid; she confirms this by tapping around the bed, which takes up half the floor space. The centre is the hardest, the edges are putty.

Written by Richard C

3

Next chapter: Use one long continuous sentence.

2.

Suggested props: bowl, lost child and violence.

When she starts to speak she finds she can't stop and her voice is over- and underlain with the voices of others outside the great wax dome, who seem to bay and coo, so that a thought like I wonder where I am and on what planet becomes something more like I wonder-ful girl there, with great - where-wolfwhistle, hello love - I - don't believe you didn't want the attention when - am - I going to get lucky - and on what planet - do you think that's appropriate behaviour for a woman, bodily assets on public display for every Tom, Dick and Harry to - a cacophony overwhelming her senses to the extent where the roof must start to melt and she is melted with it, leaving only the voices and traces of the space where she was before; and this is what might have happened if at that moment a needle prick of pain in her arm had not hardened and then cracked to dust the waxy surroundings in a moment.

Written by David Jackson

1

Next chapter: Write in one-word sentences

3.

Suggested props: paper bag, naked person and unrequited love.

Wax. Honeyed. Yellow. Bees. Buzzes. Screams. Pain.

Why? Why? Punishment?

Drip. Drip. Drip. Wax. Hot. Red. Blood. Arm. Elbow. Crook. Prick.

Prick. Crook. Husband. Ex. Ended. Heartbroken. Torn. Paper. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou.

Paper. Bags. Signatures. Ink. Teardrops. Water. Melt.

Dissolve. Obscured.

Vision.

Blinded. Blindfold? Tears?

Naked. Stoned. Head. Sand. Eyes. Pebble. Brain.

Silica. Dust. Sleep?

No.

Melting. Wax. Smell.

Written by JenBee

2

Next chapter: Use one long continuous sentence.

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1.

Suggested props: sausage, circus performer and violence.

'Chives, come to the parlour!' Master called.
Chives came running in the most dignified style he could manage under the constraints. His entrance was explosive, hardly befitting of a butler of such grand reputation.
'Yes, m'lord?' asked Chives, panting.
'She is dead! And I have killed her!' declared Master.
Chives saw the recognisable bumps and straights under a crimson rug in the centre of the parlour floor of a human, a person, presumably a corpse.
'Might I ask who, m'lord?' said Chives.
'My mother! With whom I attempted forced coitus has been stricken by a heart attack and she has PERISHED!' said Master. In the ensuing silence he tweaked his waxed moustache. Chives awaited orders.
'Help me, Chives?'
'Yes, M'lord... How, m'lord?'
'I don't know, Chives, you're a thinking man.'
Chives observer the rule of duty before emotion, reactions are improper. 'Yes, M'lord.'

Written by crewe4

2

Next chapter: Use only questions

2.

Suggested props: sausage, pilot and unrequited love.

"So Chives what are we going to do?"
"I am not sure sir? I am still thinking sir"
"Well think faster then, I am hungry as well what do we have Chives?"
"we have pork sausages Master. Do you want them?"
"pork is boring, DO we have lamb?"
"No sir, we have smoked beef stomach Master"
"That's repulsive Chives do we have anything more appetizing?"
Chives big and slow mind work and work and work and kept working until....
"Master we have the madam here we could smoke her if you want or do you want to roast her to make her crispy and luscious?"
"that do sound nice yeah why not since she is already long gone ok bring it to the study when you smoke and roast it"
"Very good sir, and do you want fresh blood from the young girl to go with it Sir."
"yes brilliant Chives Brilliant"

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Switch perspective

3.

Suggested props: broken window, octogenarian and family feud.

So who was Chives? He was a butler? Who was his master? Where did they live? Who else was in the house? Why did the master call him at that time? Why did the Master kill her? What was the relationship between the Master and his mother? Why did he attempt forced coitus? Was this a regular hobby? Were there any children from these relationships? Did his mother not mind? Was the force part of the role play? Did she enjoy being tied up and violated? Did his father not object? Where was his father? Did the Master not have a wife of his own with whom to consummate relations? Did he not have a concubine? Was it really a heart attack? Is there more sinister reasoning at play? How did he think Chives would help him? Why is Chives known as a thinking man? What could Chives do? How could they dispose of the body? How could they explain what has happened?

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

4.

Suggested props: bowl, juggler and violence.

The woman was heavy, and Chives struggled to haul the massive corpse out of the opulent dining room. He was the only servant these days, ever since the master had lost his mind, along with his formerly fabulous beard. Things like this were becoming a regular occurrence, though usually the Master didn't kill his poor visitors. He propped the large woman up against the kitchen door, stopping to catch his breath. He cursed all 300 pounds of the corpse, he cursed his master for his idiocy.

That's when a fabulous idea popped into his head.

He was going to have a banquet tonight, joined by the master and his new 'friend'. They were going to be delicious indeed...

Written by crewe2

1

Next chapter: Change tense

5.

Suggested props: secret stash, pilot and bigotry.

Chives sat in his favourite chair in what was once the old Master's room. The view was sublime, it suited his refined tastes suitably. One memory fondly occupied his mind, that time long ago when he had saved his Master from potential imprisonment with... commonfolk.
The feast they had had that night was divine, truly glorious. If only Horatio the bull mastiff had been less of a messy eater. Why, he had to clean up the Master and his mother for days. It was the simple things in life that brought most joy now, the estate required little attention with the new staff.

Written by crewe4

1

Next chapter: Remove all the 't's

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1.

Suggested props: broken window, naked person and impoliteness.

-'David... are you awake? Did you not hear that sound? Like a humanoid hitting the asphalt down below.'
-'Yes, I'm awake! don't you damn droids ever rest? Give me some peace to try and process this shit, and for godsake let me get dresse...' Crash!

Written by Interactive Arts Group 5

1

Next chapter: Use only questions

2.

Suggested props: broken window, accountant and blasphemy.

Christ what was that!? Was it a cat? Do my eyes deceive me? Did the window break?

Written by Interactive Arts Group 5

1

Next chapter: Write in one-word sentences

3.

Suggested props: broken window, circus performer and betrayal.

Damn. no.no.no.no.no.noooooooooooo!

Written by Interactive Arts Group 5

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

4.

Suggested props: broken window, pilot and violence.

'Russell why is there broken glass on the floor?'
'Why would I know, you imbecile?'
'Looks like a broken window'
'What's it got to do with us you nosey cow'
'Look there's some goggles as well'
'Shut the fuck up Gloria'
'OH MY GOD IT'S PILOTS GOGGLES'

Written by Interactive Arts Group 5

1

Next chapter: Use one long continuous sentence.

5.

Suggested props: nut, naked person and unrequited love.

Across the wide gun metal grey expanse of the Rico-corp Trading City parking lot nothing was heard save for the lone cry of a cyber-gull circling for scraps of metavegetation left behind by the business men, their escorts and droids after the day's eco-conferencing.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 5

1

Next chapter: Write using words with only one syllable

6.

Suggested props: anvil, pilot and bigotry.

fuck! ouch! my toe! damn! shit! balls! ass!

Written by Interactive Arts Group 5

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

7.

Suggested props: anvil, circus performer and argument.

Angus yelped in angony. Who put that anvil there?
He went in search of the culprit. As he walked down the stairs he became aware of the sound of bells jangling, he walked through the open door and to his sheer suprise saw a small man on a unicycle holding a great big ball of fire.
'Did you leave that anvil in my office?'
'Who are you? Get it? im practising for tomorrows show'
It was you, you stupid clown!

Written by Interactive Arts Group 5

1

Next chapter: Remove all the 't's

8.

Suggested props: office block, lost child and trickery.

Angus, a weak and weedy man, endeavoured along lines of picking up said anvil, however his feeble limbs disallowed such a job. In a rage of small man syndrome he hurled his skinny body in forward, landing awkwardly below Juggle's whimpering body.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 5

1

Next chapter: Switch perspective

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1.

Suggested props: penny, pilot and adultery.

Fogging morning, half past 8. Cold sweat, something mischievous had happened here last night. I can taste it in the air, I can taste it on my tongue. Wiping my face to find what was left of the lipstick on my cheek, now on my hands, oh great. 'Where's my partner in crime!?'
Searching every pocket, twice, for my phone, i'm not the only thing that's lost, ah well still have my gun and a couple tabs left, sweet! 'Where's my partner in crime!?'

Written by crewe3

1

Next chapter: Every sentence must include a drug reference.

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1.

Suggested props: cheese, artist and violence.

Five years ago, to the day, I met a man that said he could change my life. He was no salesman, or con artist, but he wore a polkadot tie so you can rightly assume that I didn't believe him. But he spoke with such conviction, and such confidence, that I couldn't help but humour him - if not take him entirely seriously. Now, I am a murderer.

I can't remember how I killed her. I'm not even sure why I killed her, though I imagine it was my impotence that ultimately drove me to murder. Her body - my wife's that is - is at my feet. Her arms and legs are outstretched, splayed in all directions like a crooked compass, and her face is slightly purple, but not bruised or broken in any way. A cheese board is spread across the carpet - Cheddar, Stilton, crumbly Lancashire - and a knife is lying beside her body. There's no blood though, so I know I didn't stab her. That's a relieving thought.

Written by Matthew Adamson

2

Next chapter: Go back five years.

2.

Suggested props: anvil, lost child and blasphemy.

Apart from the peculiar shape and colour combination of his tie he was resplendent, in a black, silk suit that did not over-sag or over-hug his body. He wore black brogues that shone like sable mirrors. After a large sense of trepidation, I found myself nodding at everything he said without hearing or understanding what he said. I found myself holding a clipboard and printing my name on paper, my signature. Later, in my study, I read through the literature he gave me. I had not read for ten years before but this kept my eyes until the early hours. After, I went on the website printed on the material and spent a few more hours reading, absorbing this information. I kept thinking about him, about his ideas, his proposals. His pearl teeth inside the endlessly curved lips tattooed itself on everything I saw.

Written by Richard C

2

Next chapter: Switch perspective

3.

Suggested props: nut, circus performer and argument.

*From the Cliff Notes for this story:

The Book of Con fictional text that this story's protagonist refers to as 'the literature' is never explicitly quoted from or its purpose made exactly clear. However on the basis of the action that both the character and other actors in the narrative take we can summerise the contents as being something along the following lines:

The people who love you are your friends but they are also out to control you which means they are the enemies of freedom. Therefore trust only strangers with your freedom and do not let those too close to you get closer or they will put an intolerable burden on your rights as a free person.

In the book this logic is used to justify a number of inhumane actions for which the characters feel they are immune from judgement. And to be immune from judgement is to be free. So says the book of Con.*

Written by David Jackson

1

Next chapter: End the story

4.

Suggested props: sausage, naked person and unrequited love.

Oh, she fucking knows what she's doing.

'Bangers and mash with carrot and onion gravy for tea,' she smiles at me as she peels the skinny orange penises, erect and fertile - the polar opposite of my own useless prick. Sausages too. Oh yes, the bitch is intent on stripping me of my manhood. I feel naked, like one of those terrible dreams in which you're dashing through a crowded public place in your birthday suit, desperately searching for cover.

I tell myself, "The people who love you are your friends but they are also out to control you which means they are enemies of freedom."

She stands there, massaging the phallic food stuff, and judges my impotence.

I tell myself, "To be immune from judgement is to be free."

I must be free. I wait until we have eaten and the cheese board lies between us on the settee. Then I put my hands around her throat and squeeze the judgement out of her.

Written by Matthew Adamson

1

Next chapter: THE END

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1.

Suggested props: bike chain, naked person and trickery.

The lamp swayed gently from the explosion above, the light flickering as it tried to remain lit.
"Which rifle would you prefer?" murmured Claus down the back of Ross' neck. Ross stared at the wall, Unsheathed, hands bound to the chair by nylon rope.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 2

1

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

2.

Suggested props: bike chain, accountant and impoliteness.

"I beg of you, Claus, please." Ross murmured with the petrol soaked gag in his mouth.
"Tell me why I shouldn't stick this pistol in to the back of your throat and pull the trigger? You betrayed me.
your heart filled with the love of another man, how could you possibly think that I wouldn't find out."
Claus began pacing back and forth - becoming increasingly more anxious and agitated. Claus was no longer talking to Ross.
"I wrote to you instead of my wife. What about my country? I cried for you. I gave up everything. what about my child, my wife, my family...?
Do you think they want to know what I have become?!" Claus became hysterical, the collar on is perfectly tailored suit became hot and tight, he began pulling it away from his bulging red neck. Strands of his neatly Dax'd hair began falling in to his face as he pounded his forehead with his knuckles.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 1

1

Next chapter: Change tense

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1.

Suggested props: broken window, pilot and unrequited love.

"It's ard to say wot dun er in," the constable said as he looked about nervously. Strictly speaking, the constable was not supposed to be here talking to me.
Then again, nobody was supposed to be talking to me. I'm a journalist, but that's not the point. Well, I say I'm a journalist - I run a blog.
I nod, taking in every word the constable says without a voice recorder, or even the old-fashioned pen and paper in my hands, which constitutes the last means of face-to-face communication left to me.
I wrote: WAS THERE A SYMBOL LIKE THIS ANYWHERE?
I drew a face - two dots for eyes and a padlock for a mouth.
the constable shuffled his feet.
"Yeah," he said, "it was sprayed on the floor by er ed." I nodded in reply. "Listen," he said, "I don't much like you lot - you're weird - but I av a funny feeling you need to know."
Suddenly a whistling bullet sprayed his brains over my face. I ran.

Written by Maggie C. Lyons

1

Next chapter: Change tense

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1.

Suggested props: office block, circus performer and bigotry.

So the little Polish boy's dead. And his dog too. Only 6 years old, half my age, and the life was smashed out of him by the grill of a Golf GTI. I can't remember his name - what does it matter now anyway? He's gone.
The driver of the car was his next door neighbour - a foul-mouthed, greasy son of a bitch called Duggan. No one round here knows his first name, even his mother doesn't call him by it anymore.
The paramedics that attended the accident pronounced him dead at the scene. Said he was gone before he hit the floor. Scant consolation to his poor mother, crying in the street for her baby.
The police came to the conclusion that the Pole's death was an accident. Plain and simple. Well I'm not buying it. Mum says I've been reading too much Hammett, but Duggan's shady and something's telling me he hit that little boy for a reason. And not just because he was crossing the street.

Written by Matthew Adamson

2

Next chapter: Make reference to the writings of at least one crime writer.

2.

Suggested props: penny, artist and betrayal.

I reckon it was his little sister Penny, little only by an hour. I've got friends who are twins that don't really look the same, but they really looked identical. Her mum cut their hair different, but Penny would take a pair of scissors and cut hers till it was the same length her brothers. Duggun used to tease them - call them North Pole and South Pole. Like I said, he was a son of a bitch, bullying two six-year-olds and it didn't even make any sense. When I told him to stop once, he bent one of my front teeth back with his elbow. He acted like he hated them but he didn't. He used to bring the sweets. A few times I saw him hanging around their gate talking to one of them, I never knew which.

It got seriously suspicious when Penny played the Lady of the Lake in a school production of one of the Arthur legends and had to hold one of the other boys' hands. Duggun seemed to have a proble

Written by David Jackson

2

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

3.

Suggested props: dead animal, pilot and family feud.

I'm not saying he's one of those men that tries to get kids in their cars... But then he does have a car and Mum always said that they use sweets to lure kids away from their parents...
No, that's not right - Duggan's a killer, not a... not a kiddie fiddler. That's what Dad calls them anyway. Mum calls them nonces, but I thought that was just a really posh person. Like Dad's friend Richard. He was a pilot for British Airways and used to invite kids into the cockpit to touch them up. Dad said his family never spoke to him after they found out. But then, they'd have difficulty because he was in Strangeways.
Maybe Penny and Duggan were in it together, you know like Torvill and Dean, and Penny's brother had found something out about them. Like maybe he'd walked in on them flushing his goldfish down the bog... Penny. Always struck me as a strange name for a Polish girl.

Written by Matthew Adamson

2

Next chapter: Switch perspective

4.

Suggested props: dead animal, lost child and family feud.

I look out the window and see Duggan talking to those two weird foreign twins. He's not right. He's too simple to pass for a normal And he's always been a brute. Simpletons have got too much energy fizzing around in their heads and they have to let it out somehow if they can't speak it. That's why he's a brute. I knew him as Little Dunce Duncan, always with a little tongue flicking up towards his snotty nostrils, like some horrid little lizard that you wanted to feed to a bird. What's your name? the older kids would ask. Duggun, Duggun. Then angry. Duggun, dats mby dame! Then he'd flail about, punching and kicking them till they hurt him back.
I know why he's talking to them kids. He wants to hurt them, all he knows is to hurt them. Like he hurt my son Phil, tortured him all through school. Until he took matters into his own hands. Duggun, Duggun. If only he'd turned his hands on you.

Written by David Jackson

2

Next chapter: Switch perspective

5.

Suggested props: gold ring, monkey and family feud.

'Maybe it's because they don't understand him.'
'I never thought of it like that before.'
'I always assumed that he hurt them because they were horrible to him, but then I'd never seen anyone actually physically attack him. Maybe his frustrations aren't with his victims, but himself.'
'You're sounding less like his father, and more like his psychologist every day.'
'Oh, Molly, switch off for a second and think about it. The whole street's saying that that poor boy was killed by our Duggan-'
'It's Duncan!'
'That's my point. The boy calls himself Duggan because he can't even pronounce the name we gave him. That little boy represented everything that Duggan could have been before, before... you know...'
'Duncan wouldn't have. He couldn't have! I know he's had his moments with the other children but not this... Not Duncan.'
'Mby dame is Duggan! Mwhat dare you tawking about Mbum?'

Written by Matthew Adamson

1

Next chapter: Use one long continuous sentence.

6.

Suggested props: office block, pilot and family feud.

[Deleted police recording] Okay, so you've beat me up, as if I never been beat up before, and you've told me I won't last this time in grown-up prison but, and I know you think I'm making it up, but I never hit that little boy although I was in the car and I was driving but it wasn't my fault - I can see you smiling because I know that I just said I was driving so I must have done it and you think I don't realise because people think I'm stupid because I don't speak properly, even though in my brain I know things that are tucked away and I understand things better than most people, and - but, the point is that, I wasn't the one who hit him because, I wasn't in the car on my own and it wasn't me who grabbed hold of the wheel and shouted at me at the same time so I didn't know what was going on and you won't believe me because it sounds like I'm crazy but it was-

Written by David Jackson

2

Next chapter: Write in one-word sentences

7.

Suggested props: broken window, salesman and betrayal.

Driving. Driving. Driving. Driving. Driving.

Long. Street. Straight. Street.

Driving. Driving. Driving. Driving. Driving.

Hot. Day. Sunny. Day.

Driving. Driving. Driving. Driving. Driving.

Boy. Ball. Street

Driving. Fast. Driving. Straight.

Serve. Boy. Safe.

Hand. Wheel. Pulling. Hand. Wheel. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling.

Swerve. Boy. Unsafe. Swerve. Swerve. Swerve.

Crash.

Boy. Hit. Boy. Dead.

Victim. Boy. Murderer... Duggan.

No! Not. Duggan. Driving. Duggan. Innocent. Duggan. Crying.

Someone. Laughing. Who?

Someone. Male. Laughing.

Someone.

Someone.

Who?

Victim. Dead.

Murderer. Guilty. Murderer. Father.

Victim. Dead. Murderer. Father.

Murderer. Father. Murderer. Father. Murderer Father. Murderer. Father. Murderer. Father. Murderer Father.

Why? Why? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY?

sob... sob... sob...

Written by Matthew Adamson

2

Next chapter: Who's father killed the Polish boy?

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1.

Suggested props: dead animal, monkey and argument.

'Fuck the Monkey'Roger screamed at Eliza.
'Its dead you bastard, its dead'. Eliza yelled back.
Tears streamed down her face ruining her elaborate, make up.
She moved towards the rifle cabinet, making Roger double over in laughter.
'Seriously, you're going to shoot me over the stupid monkey?'. Roger said barley able to squeeze the sentence out due to his uncontrollable laughter.
'Ill fuck you up for this so bad, you wont know your head from your arse' Eliza replied, loading the rifle with smooth, rounded, bullets.
Roger felt fear begin to coarse through his veins, he knew Eliza was an excellent shot, and he didn't stand a chance from this distance.
'Love,please, be reasonable'. He said deliberately injecting sweetness in to his voice.
'Don't you try that shit with me, I am not the monkey, and I am not that daft.'Eliza yelled, firing a warning shot at the space just above Rogers head.

Written by Sophia_7

1

Next chapter: Or write your own

2.

Suggested props: cheese, naked person and family feud.

"I didn't mean to stick the fucker in the oven - it was an accident (sort of). He just went mad after eating all of that Gorgonzola-shit your aunt got us for Christmas," Roger whined. That made Eliza stop for a moment. Her eyes widened for a split second, before narrowing into harsh slits. The gun didn't even waver in her grip.
"On what planet is it a good idea to put a monkey in the oven after eating a block of Gorgonzola? You take the thing to the vet, you fucktardian troglodyte!" Eliza screeched as she shot again. Roger winced as he felt the bullet rush past the hairs on his earlobe.
"Fuck sake, Eliza - he clawed your brother's clothes off! Terry's gonna have to get a fucking tetanus shot - no, don't reload that thing. Please."
"And that's why my brother was bollock-naked in our bedroom, was it?" Eliza snapped, snapping the bullets into place, "it's not that you were fucking him?"

Written by Maggie C. Lyons

1

Next chapter: Use one long continuous sentence.

3.

Suggested props: secret stash, pilot and argument.

'Fucking him, how could you even say that to me, you know that I love you, your my world and now you've got the audacity to accuse me of fucking your brother? Well you can fuck off you stupid bitch, the monkey got everything it deserves, and I ain't wasting my time taking it to the vets and paying for it to be stuffed with some stupid injections; its as good as dead, it ate the secret stash of all the cheese BY ITSELF, not just the Gorgonzola but the cheddar, Wensleydale, even the fucking Stilton! Take that up your pipe and smoke it!Your brother was the one who offered to fuck the monkey not fuck me, you daft cow, we were going to roast the monkey for Jimmy', Roger bellowed - 'You were going to roast my precious monkey for a ponsy pilot show, for everyone's amusement to display as some kind of narcissistic trophy, well I won't allow it Roger, over my dead body - you will fix that monkey.

Written by Sophia_7

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

4.

Suggested props: secret stash, dying person and bigotry.

"Fix it? What d'you mean fix it? It's fucking dead, you stupid bint," Roger hissed.
"You know what I mean," Eliza said darkly, finally putting down the gun. Rogers eyes widened in realisation.
"No. Fucking NO."
"Why not? You killed my fucking monkey, and the old fart is gonna die, soon, anyway."
"Yeah, but that's not what the thing is for - "
"What is it for, Roger? The betterment of mankind?" She mocked, "shame your father gave it to you, then."
Roger shook his head.
"Why are you shaking your head? You bring my monkey back, your gay dad dies, just like you want him to, you homophobic cunt. After that, we part ways, and I never want to see or hear from you again."
Roger's lip trembled. He hadn't meant it to come to this. All he'd wanted was be immortal and to fuck about a bit. He'd sold his Dad's life for an amulet, and now Frederick the Monkey was going to live forever. Fucking hell.

Written by Maggie C. Lyons

1

Next chapter: End the story

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1.

Suggested props: penny, dying person and argument.

'You that woman off TV?'
'What? No. Yes, I am. Hi. Andrea Silverman. Nice to meet you. I'm dying.'
The man and his friend in the biker jacket. Looked at her blankly for a moment, then at each other, then back at her. 'Damn, that's bad luck,' he said

Written by David Jackson

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

2.

Suggested props: bike chain, naked person and adultery.

'That why you're drinking in a bar like this?'
They looked around drunkenly at the good-for-nothing clientele. Andrea a turned back, shrugged and nodded. 'And because I caught my fiancee naked in bed with another man. You guys.'
'Bike chain broke, we're waiting for a pick up,' said the other one.

Written by David Jackson

1

Next chapter: Use only questions

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1.

Suggested props: secret stash, naked person and betrayal.

'Meet me in my workroom' he whispered .Mike knew as soon as he heard the sweet sound to go straight to the janitors room. As soon as he entered the delicate smell of submarine oil penetrated his nose.take me! he exclaimed.

they are being watched...

Written by Interactive Arts Group 4

1

Next chapter: Switch perspective

2.

Suggested props: paper bag, dying person and argument.

The janitor felt deep remorse in his actions. This was not a sincere lust, but a vizard he must uphold for other ends, unknown by Michael. The janitor had hoped he could convince Michael to use the potato sack left on the counter as a prop in their sexual endeavour, to 'confuse and intensify the passion'. But really he hoped to use it to cover the face of either himself, or Michael. It didn't matter which, he only wished to be blind to the act he knew he must endure, made worse by the reality of why he must endure it. If only he could be blind to that as well. If this seduction could be made painless, oh what bliss even an apathy would be, to be unaware of love and companionship. For the janitor was infatuated, but not by Michael, by the prospect of a wholesome love that awaited him, in someone else. One who was wilting away in a terminal condition, that was itself the reason he endure.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 3

1

Next chapter: Change tense

3.

Suggested props: nut, juggler and bigotry.

Oops! Ignore this.

Written by David Jackson

1

Next chapter: Do the previous challenge

4.

Suggested props: stolen glasses, pilot and bigotry.

The janitor and Michael met un unusual circumstances. Michael was known as Michelle in some circles and they were introduced through a mutual friend. they shared numerous ideologies and cocktail preferences and the longing and passion they had for each other did nothing but grow. After a considerable amount of meetings, Michelle removed her make-up and nostalgic pin-up dress sense to reveal Michael, a new recruit to the sub where the janitor was already stationed. At first, the janitor was happy. His love life and professional life morphed into one elated existence and the impending war seemed a world away.

Unbeknownst to Michael, the janitor was hiding a large secret from his beau. A secret that would slowly chip away at his soul until nothing remained apart from an empty shell in which he was.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 2

1

Next chapter: Use only questions

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1.

Suggested props: balloon, salesman and trickery.

Fogging morning, half past 8. Cold sweat, something mischievous had happened here last night. I can taste it in the air, I can taste it on my tongue. Wiping my face to find what was left of the lipstick on my cheek, now on my hands, oh great. 'Where's my partner in crime!?'
Searching every pocket, twice, for my phone, i'm not the only thing that's lost, ah well still have my gun and a couple tabs left, sweet! 'Where's my partner in crime!?'

Written by crewe3

1

Next chapter: Every sentence must include a drug reference.

2.

Suggested props: broken window, accountant and family feud.

"Let's snort some off the gun" chuck emerged from the bathroom. "I smoked some more as you slept and as I watched you I knew you wanted to try the stuff a different way"

My lost phone began to vibrate we could both hear the vibration
"What the heck is it doing in the bag of weed?"

I could see dumbo and his friends, I answered with my feet on star filled clouds

"Hello.... What? No sir.....no sir......we get the bad guys with drugs. High sir? Drug trafficking sir? Corrupt cops sir?
Yes sir. Thanks sir. Bye sir."

I hung up.

"Where are the scales trix?"

"Sergeant Cokes coming round to check our property"


Written by crewe3

1

Next chapter: Change tense

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1.

Suggested props: .

It was dark and there were no stars over the sky of Mars. Case was closed, he wouldn't be coming back here any time soon. He'd got as far as he could get.

Gerry got in the space rocket and put on his helmet. When he looked up Stella was talking to him but he couldn't hear because of the roar of the engines and because of the helmet.

'Elephant what?' He shouted not bothering to take off the helmet. Typical broad, never giving him anything until it was too late.

You could sympathise with her. She was getting over a dead husband and still traumatised from having her children snatched away by her meddling stepmother. But she said she didn't want his help. What was he to do?

He got ready to take off, all the time his eyes on the broad. It was when he was flipping the switch for full ignition that he realised she was raising a gun. She aimed past him and shot, breaking his cabin window.

Written by MrAdmin

1

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

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1.

Suggested props: penny, lost child and savagery.

My best friend's lover, sebastian, was faced with an infinite loneliness, on a distant and barren planet, his only solace being a placid and unresponsive monkey. In his despondency and complete abandonment of rational action, sebastian told a joke.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 3

1

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

2.

Suggested props: stolen glasses, artist and blasphemy.

"Whats black, white and red all over?"
"..."
"A newspaper!"
"..."
'I wonder what your thinking? It must be an annoyance for you. Having to listen to me talk endlessly in hope that you would talk back"
"..."
"your a mute monkey aren't you?"
"..."
"I wonder if these glasses will make you speak confidently.... Obviously not."
"..."
"I wish I was a mute. We'd have so much fun together! You'd be silent, I'd be silent and this barren planet will be that little more barren"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Are we friends? I'd like to think that we were friends. we have so much in common."
"..."
"Do you have any hobbies? I like to fish. I miss fishing."
"..."
"Whats with the nasty look?! I know fishing isn't for everybody but theres no need to be like that!"
"..."
"There it is again! Why do you have to anger me like this!"
"..."
"I can't stand you! Get out of my sight"
"..."
"say something..."

Written by Interactive Arts Group 2

1

Next chapter: Lose the protagonist

3.

Suggested props: gold ring, accountant and betrayal.

Sebastien stormed off in to the dusky void. Punching kicking the matter-less vacuum out of his way, his eyes filled with hurt and frustration. Sebastien began muttering small sentences repetitively. You could see the thought stirring in his gaunt expression. As the day turned to night, his eyes fixated on his travelling feet, he trekked far from home. 6 moons and billions of stars lit a dense black atmosphere just enough. Sebastian came into a tricky field. This was not a barrier he had come across before, it was not visible, this barrier existed through the matter that was in the atmosphere. He powered through with great difficulty, it came at him like a forceful wall of wind. it soon became obvious that this matter was alive, it contained human properties, and this matter was hungry. Sebastien began deteriorating, eating him alive he whaled for his Monkey companion but it was to late

Written by Interactive Arts Group 1

1

Next chapter: Switch perspective

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1.

Suggested props: penny, octogenarian and impoliteness.

The gentlemen appeared out of place before he even stepped into the old house. Though the worn double breasted suit with brass buttons fastened to the neck, deep wine coloured cravat and faded bowler hat was remarkably fitting for the damp dingy mansion he found himself in. He was in stark contrast with the other guests of the mansion on this particular night.

He was heard before he was seen, the tapping of his gold tipped, blood red cane on the bare wooden floor sent an echo through the derelict house that caused the small group of bug-eyed college kids in the living room to pause their conversation. Searching for the source of the sound coming towards them.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 7

2

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

2.

Suggested props: paper bag, circus performer and blasphemy.

The intoxicated teenagers stared at the man as if they had never seen someone of his age before, he struggled to walk towards them as they stared in disbelief. He took two small steps forward and from his pocket dropped a penny, at least 150 years old.

His mouth slowly opened and from it emitted a toxic brown gas.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 7

2

Next chapter: Switch perspective

3.

Suggested props: secret stash, naked person and violence.

The house shook violently and heaved like the aftermath sigh of an explosion. It had finally, after waiting 150 years managed to bring his master home and trap earthly bodies needed for their energy, feasting time had begun! The master stilled and his eyes first looked up gratitude clearly showing in his eyes for all to see, the house had begun to feast and his time to rule had arrived.

Students were enveloped by the toxic fumes emitting from his master. The teenagers stilled paralysed by the gas, fear turning the the contaminated air electric. Eyes wide, mouths agape and bodies that the house began to feast on. Slowly the wooden floor began to morph to a dark thick sludge swallowing feet and draining the life from the unwilling victims. Silent screams fed the air, feeding greedily the masters morphing began.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 7

2

Next chapter: Bring in a new character

4.

Suggested props: office block, accountant and trickery.

He stood at eight feet; increased girth on his limbs and chest bulged his immaculate threads apart. Through the tears, feet to shoulders, is puce, hairless skin. Veins textured it, spread like oak branches and threatened to pierce through. His skull had elongated to a similar length as the grandfather clock that stood at the stairs' base; his cheekbones stretched the skin from the jawline, so his cheeks resembled cliff concaves.

He raised a large thumb and forefinger of his left hand and clicked. A crashing from above burgeoned and a small room dropped through the roof onto the refurbished floor; a desk, wall-fragments and a large billow of dust followed. He clicked again and a pebble-like item flew from the wreckage into his palm. He turned to the nearest wall and threw the item against it. An explosion is followed by smoke, a small cough and an emission of the words “you're back”.

Written by Richard C

1

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

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1.

Suggested props: anvil, lost child and impoliteness.

On the main road into town, you can find a fairly run down looking shop. I didn't think anything of it on my first trip into town, but I was drawn in soon enough.
Peeking through the dusty window, I noticed there were giant vases, statues, tables and chairs all littered throughout the shop, all with a distinct cultural style. All of these items looked very old, and considering I couldn't read the sign above the window as it was in another language, I had to assume that the shop was some sort of shop specialising in Antiques from somewhere in Asia, I think it was probably China.

I assumed the shop was closed on that particular day, however a lamp was on towards the back of the shop and leaflets advertising events that took place in 2012 littered the door step. I assumed that the shop might have gone out of business. Walking one night, I noticed a diry window had been opened upstairs...

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: What is the mystery of the shop?

2.

Suggested props: balloon, dying person and family feud.

I stopped to look for just a little too long, hearing a harsh scraping like nails on a blackboard. What the hell was going on up there? There's only one way to find out...
I wrapped my hands around the back of the rusted drainpipe that trailed up the rustic-style front of the shop. Then I slowly shuffled up the pipe, staying as close to the wall as possible. I could hear a distant creaming now, a woman and a man and that scraping again.
It was painful, clambering slowly, holding on for dear life. I was high up now, I'd break something if I fell. So nearly there. I reached across to grab the ledge under the window. There, with some superhuman effort I hoisted myself up just high enough to see.
There was a woman standing, in a crimson dress, holding a balloon by some shaggy old goat of a bloke's ear. He looked like he was suffering, really badly. But that noise... My grip failed!

Written by crewe4

2

Next chapter: Lose the protagonist

3.

Suggested props: office block, accountant and trickery.

What was the mystery of the shop? Inside, a lorry load of illegal Chinese immigrants were hiding. Working in the local takeaways, they sought refuge inside the same place. The Triads had this as a safe house. Although downstairs looked like an abandoned antique shop, below stairs was like Aladin's Cave. Treasures of every kind. From chopsticks, to plastic containers, to bits of snake and bamboo. And pallets of Soy Sauce. A veritable treasure trove indeed. Dragons and Chinese Cats nodding away bringing good luck to all and sundry. Red envelopes for lucky money. All exciting stuff. Kung Hei Fat Choy. Happy New Year to you too.

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Write in one-word sentences

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1.

Suggested props: office block, monkey and betrayal.

She told me to run, to run for my life. Her warning was amusing; how trite, how very Hitchcock. Little did I know how right she was, and how - if I had listened - I would not still be running.

Three months earlier, at work, the 13th floor. I refreshed the screen like a man obsessed. My simian fingers scissoring Ctrl R. Our staff intranet, the scourge of productivity inbetween sales. Then, finally, Marianne pings up on chat:
"how about that meal you promised then? lol."

I typed back, fingers tumbling over one another.
"u know Im waiting for time and place"

My heart skipped, seconds passed, the phone began to ring; I nearly cut off the chat program to deal with another customer.

"lets do this tonight"

"yes. gilbert's at 6."

"then maybe we can go to "

I cut her off, a pang of guilt at my betrayal. Yet another customer. As his voice droned on, I thought of her.

Written by JenBee

2

Next chapter: Use only questions

2.

Suggested props: balloon, circus performer and family feud.

I left around 4:30; how did they not notice I always left early? Her wan face ping-ponged between the walls of my skull, its wet, scruched eyes and molar-dented mouth screaming why, why why? Why? I crossed the road outside the office thinking `am I a bad person?' `Have I any morals left?' The wind of a passing car flapped my suit jacket as I reached the other side, as if to affirm `what do you think, idiot?' I glanced behind at the 58, which was not too far behind; checking my phone, I am informed that I still have five minutes and the same question I always have appears: Do the drivers even know what timetable they have to stick to? Are they aware of time? Of early leavers? I managed to make the stop by a slender margin; as I paid I thought, `there are more people in the working world than you, you know?'

Written by Richard C

2

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

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1.

Suggested props: secret stash, octogenarian and adultery.

I pressed my nostrils closely to the rim of the filthy, ceramic sink. The toilets in the club were bleak, cold and reeked of dried urine. However,I wasn't going to waste a single particle of it. Not after the ridiculous price the guy had charged me! It was a experience I'd never had before- I'd never even touched a cigarette! The fact that a morbidly obese man dressed in a santa outfit had sold it to me added to the weirdness of the situation. I struggled to my feet, taking the time to brush the white powder from the tip of my nose. I stumbled out of the toilets and into somebody's sweaty, hairy arms.

"'Ello luv!"

It was the Santa impersonating drug-dealer from earlier in the evening...

Written by crewe2

2

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

2.

Suggested props: bike chain, naked person and blasphemy.

All he had on still was his fake beard, the same silver glasses he wore at the time he sold me the stuff but the lenses were missing and his santa hat covered in mud, completely naked using a bike chain as a belt. The Lord is not on my side tonight, bastard. Giving him a head nod acknowledging his existents whilst I try get past him. 'Where do you think you're going!?' he shouts at me through a swollen lip from all the gurning he'd been doing.

Written by crewe3

1

Next chapter: Use only questions

3.

Suggested props: penny, circus performer and savagery.

I tossed around some questions in my head.


Why does he care where I'm going?

Why is his hat covered in mud?

Why on earth is he completely naked?

Why the bike chain?

What do sheep count when they can't get to sleep?

If you choke a smurf, what colour does it turn?

Can you sentence a homeless man to house arrest?

Do birds pee?

What is the fucking meaning of life?

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

4.

Suggested props: bowl, pilot and betrayal.

"Sorry to trick you my dear but there has been an elf strike and i need workers. It was roofies you snorted not cocaine ho ho ho"
I was shocked Santa is real, and a drug dealer.
She gasped "Santa why?"
" If i'm going to pilot my sleigh on Christmas day i need presents to give to the children and with those fucking pointy eared little pricks on strike i had no choice"
"But drugs Santa"
"I work one day a year what do you think i do for the rest it" Santa then approached a rather large bowl on the table.

Written by crewe3

1

Next chapter: write the next chapter like a christmas carol

5.

Suggested props: dead animal, lost child and violence.

You better watch out, you better not cry
Better zip up, I'm telling you why.
Santa's selling roofies tonight...

He's lost all his elves, he's short on his cash
He's gonna dip in to his secret stash
Santa's selling roofies tonight!

He sees you're wanting cocaine
He knows you want some Ket
He knows you'll pay in cash upfront
So into his sack you will get

You better watch out, you better not cry
Better zip up, I'm telling you why.
Santa's selling roofies tonight...

Written by crewe2

1

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

6.

Suggested props: sausage, octogenarian and savagery.

"Do you think that will get me out of jail, using that story in court?" Asked the main character in this story. Jackie Robinson (not be confused with the baseball player) an overworked exhausted public defender who earlier in the day lost a case an octogenarian, a penis pump, and other kinds of savagery. Jack Robinson put down his sausage he bought early at Fudge G. Packers Meats and said, "no we are definitely going to lose this case. And your going to jail. They have security footage of you beating a mall Santa to death with a Louisville slugger; in the footage you look lip your lips as the blood drains from his ears; Jesus man, you look straight into the camera and smile and say slowly "now I am going to jacking off for fun! And even though there's no audio you can tell your laughing and enjoying what's going on."

Written by Robertmccluresmith

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

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1.

Suggested props: broken window, dying person and impoliteness.

Everyone's done it! Every single one of them. I can tell when they have too. They walk into the classroom with a new walk and a new smell. Not a stinky sort of smell, more of a sophisticated aroma. A smell that carries a sense of importance - a smell that suggests that I've either had my deep blue visited or I've taken a dip in the blue! But to top it all off, they know I haven't.

Today that's all going to change.

Last week, I went out to eat with a few of the boys from my rugby team and on our way home Luke told me to take a short cut, he said he was going to buy me a birthday present that I wouldn't ever forget.

"Take a right here" he said "and pull up behind that Harley"

As I pulled up behind the Harley, Luke said

"Take you're pick" and pointed out of the window

"Of what? " I said

"Of what!! What do you think lad! Take you're pick from the variety of whispering eyes"

Written by crewe3

1

Next chapter: Use only questions

2.

Suggested props: anvil, monkey and unrequited love.

There she was hitting an anvil with a baseball bat, she was pissed. 'Who the fuck took my MONKEY, ARHGAHAH' her words left ringing in my ears as she then carried on angrily hitting this poor anvil, that i now felt a little bit sorry for. I think i'm in love! The sweat dripping from her body onto the baseball bat, watching her body move, hit, after hit, after, hit. 'I pick her' I whispered to him. 'Really mate, com'on, you're having a laugh!', 'Seriously i want her' I needed her, even if my love was unrequited.

Written by crewe3

1

Next chapter: Write from the side of sweaty anvil monkey lady but make her a secret dude

3.

Suggested props: penny, circus performer and bigotry.

Why is that one blue?
Why does she have two?
if you mix a blue and yellow one does it make a green one?

Written by crewe3

1

Next chapter: Remove all the 't's

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1.

Suggested props: broken window, artist and savagery.

I dial 999 as fast as I can and ask for the police service. A calm, strong voice answers "What seems to be the matter?" I manage to whisper the words but then they come out in a wale "I have lost my friend Bean and i cant find her anywhere!" The policeman says he will be here as fast as they can.

They try to find Bean but they cant seem to find clues to where she has gone. I collapse to the floor, tears crawling down my cheek. They ask me to describe her so i tell them about how her eyes are sea blue, her hair long and fair and the way she is always here when i call her... until now. I also tell them how i first imagined her at age 3 and how there has never been a day without her. "Wait. Did you say imagined?" the police man inquires. Yes, i cry, Bean is my imaginary friend. The police man makes a call and i wait anxiously for him to get off the phone.

Written by seablue

1

Next chapter: End the story

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1.

Suggested props: gold ring, octogenarian and blasphemy.

Have you ever thought, "What if?"
I have. Even now, with my back pressed against the gym's far wall, my torch casting a beam of light into the darkness before me, concentrated on the gym's only door, I think to myself, "What if?"
"What if I'd decided that I didn't want to go to France?"
"What if I'd decided that I didn't want to go swimming?"
Even: "What if I'd forgotten my swimming goggles?"
I'd probably have shouting something - "Jesus Christ!" - and mum would have shouted back - "Don't take the Lord's name in vain!" - and we would all have moved on fairly quickly.
But I didn't forget my goggles. They were clamped securely around my head as I slipped into the swimming pool at Trinité-sur-mer. I saw the ring almost immediately, took from the bottom of the pool and stuffed it into my Speedos. But I didn't know that the ring's owner, a woman of eighty, was watching me the entire time.

Written by Matthew Adamson

2

Next chapter: What is the ring's story?

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1.

Suggested props: dead animal, pilot and betrayal.

-Denny! What are you doing? The smoke!
As Denny had guessed, Johnny was stood outside the bathroom door. After he spat a hushed -shit! into the sink he yelled -SAFIRE!
-A fire?!
-Yeah sabadfire!
-Why aren't you getting out?
Denny had not proposed this as an option; in fairness, he did well to even construct a sentence recognisable as having origins in the English language. He grips the edges of the sink tightly with one hand and takes the pipe from the side and inhales deeply. Focus returns and he remembers the cigarettes stacked near the window shelf in front of him. He takes them in a fist, drops a three of them with a -FUCK, and inhales from the sticks.
-Denny, can you hear me? Are you okay?
-Johnny! Fetch the water.
-Yes!
He hears Johnny run down the stairs; there is a tiny gap between this and when the sound of this increases, when he hears a loud -I'm here!

Written by Richard C

2

Next chapter: Use only questions

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1.

Suggested props: dead animal, artist and adultery.

I dial 999 as fast as I can and ask for the police service. A calm, strong voice answers "What seems to be the matter?" I manage to whisper the words but then they come out in a wale "I have lost my friend Bean and i cant find her anywhere!" The policeman says he will be here as fast as they can.

They try to find Bean but they cant seem to find clues to where she has gone. I collapse to the floor, tears crawling down my cheek. They ask me to describe her so i tell them about how her eyes are sea blue, her hair long and fair and the way she is always here when i call her... until now. I also tell them how i first imagined her at age 3 and how there has never been a day without her. "Wait. Did you say imagined?" the police man inquires. Yes, i cry, Bean is my imaginary friend. The police man makes a call and i wait anxiously for him to get off the phone.

Written by seablue

1

Next chapter: End the story

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1.

Suggested props: cheese, lost child and betrayal.

I dial 999 as fast as I can and ask for the police service. A calm, strong voice answers "What seems to be the matter?" I manage to whisper the words but then they come out in a wale "I have lost my friend Bean and i cant find her anywhere!" The policeman says he will be here as fast as they can.

They try to find Bean but they cant seem to find clues to where she has gone. I collapse to the floor, tears crawling down my cheek. They ask me to describe her so i tell them about how her eyes are sea blue, her hair long and fair and the way she is always here when i call her... until now. I also tell them how i first imagined her at age 3 and how there has never been a day without her. "Wait. Did you say imagined?" the police man inquires. Yes, i cry, Bean is my imaginary friend. The police man makes a call and i wait anxiously for him to get off the phone.

Written by seablue

1

Next chapter: End the story

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1.

Suggested props: sausage, naked person and bigotry.

Ross placed a tiny piece of paper with a small illustration of the an indian god on my sticking out tongue. Lysergic acid diethyl-amide leaked onto my taste buds. I was told not to swallow, so it travelled around my mouth with my collecting saliva,

Written by Interactive Arts Group 1

1

Next chapter: Change tense

2.

Suggested props: paper bag, circus performer and impoliteness.

The week before had started like any other. I was performing my trapeze act in front of hundreds of people. I noticed a face in the crowd, it was grotesquely beautiful and i could not stop looking. I performed my last trick and lowered my self to the ground searching for the face still etched in my mind. After the final bow i went back to my trailer, there was a small brown paper bag on the step. I felt a cold shudder when i picked the bag up and for some reason felt compelled to turn around. There it was, he was, directly behind me, close enough to touch.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 4

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

3.

Suggested props: gold ring, octogenarian and adultery.

Had we met before? I felt a intense yearning for him, whether it was lustful or innocent was not clear. He must have been in his 80s. I took his hand and brought it close to my face to examine. His skin was wilted and his scent was familiar and electrifying to me. A pale and slightly embossed band around his finger implied a ring had been misplaced. There was a tragedy in his eyes. We went inside my trailer and sat there for a little while. We didn't speak. Just sat. We shared a presence. We didn't touch, we hadn't touched since I touched his hand outside, that was enough. My trailer had been neglected, it had grown dusty and there was a smell of damp sheets. When you have visitors, sometimes you feel self conscious about dusty, damp sheets. And sometimes you feel okay. With him I felt fine about the sheets.

Written by Interactive Arts Group 3

1

Next chapter: Change tense

4.

Suggested props: stolen glasses, dying person and savagery.

After making love I realized this man looked familiar, something about the facial hair and his obsession with a Jewish plot to take over the world, and his charisma. He was the kind of man that would make you commit irrational acts of violence that you would never be able to explain in retrospect.

"Do I know you from somewhere else? Your face looks familiar? Have we meet before?" I asked the man.

"No...no..." said the man.

"Hmmm...maybe I'm mixing you up with someone else. As the manager of TGI Fridays you run into a lot of people, guess not."

Then the man asked in a serious tone, his demeanor changing, eyes revealing a darker side, something that must have remained hidden even during their love making session earlier, "can you keep a secret?"

"Of course, I'm the manager pf a TGI Fridays.

I am not just some horny out man and my name is not Derek McMurphy. I am Adolph Hitler.

Written by Jack.Ryan

1

Next chapter: Take the story in whatever direction you want

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1.

Suggested props: stolen glasses, dying person and betrayal.

I dial 999 as fast as I can and ask for the police service. A calm, strong voice answers "What seems to be the matter?" I manage to whisper the words but then they come out in a wale "I have lost my friend Bean and i cant find her anywhere!" The policeman says he will be here as fast as they can.

They try to find Bean but they cant seem to find clues to where she has gone. I collapse to the floor, tears crawling down my cheek. They ask me to describe her so i tell them about how her eyes are sea blue, her hair long and fair and the way she is always here when i call her... until now. I also tell them how i first imagined her at age 3 and how there has never been a day without her. "Wait. Did you say imagined?" the police man inquires. Yes, i cry, Bean is my imaginary friend. The police man makes a call and i wait anxiously for him to get off the phone.

Written by seablue

1

Next chapter: End the story

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1.

Suggested props: bike chain, pilot and bigotry.

We're flying off the end of South Africa down to the South Pole when I hear muffled voices raised outside the cockpit. I've got no way of going to see the problem. I still need my eyes on the horizon. These little planes get buffeted by the wind - you need to keep an eye on the course or else suddenly you're pitching downwards towards the ocean. At this height it's not too serious, but it will scare the the biggest, burliest passengers so that they scream like little babies.

Still the shouting keeps coming. I shout back to the Emily who is supposed to be strapped in. Emily? What's going on?

Then I hear her voice in amongst the other voices. Emily's got a son and a daughter so she's usually pretty good at splitting up fights. But as the shouting builds I hear what I think is panic in her voice, it's difficult to hear over the roar of plane engine though.

Written by David Jackson

4

Next chapter: Continue the story without introducing characters to the scene

2.

Suggested props: secret stash, artist and impoliteness.

The cacophany is in crescendo. I need to concentrate on riding the turbulence. We dip in a small series of U's; the air currents buffet us. If we were a boat, it would be a little less scary.

Still, it's nothing that I haven't handled before. I've flown further and higher than this.
I repeat my mantra, "keep the yellow and the blue in your sightline; it's what you've been trained to do."

The sea is a great cyan mirror, our plane a small silver bird in its reflection. I've done this journey so many times that the Cape is a friend to me, albeit a fickle one.

There's a tightness in my chest, a new sensation. An impolite guest. I try to remain impassive, but my grip is loosening.

It's getting to that point that I say what I've never wanted to say.

It's getting too hard to hold on.

It is now at that point.

"This is your captain, please assume the brace position."

Written by JenBee

4

Next chapter: Switch perspective

3.

Suggested props: paper bag, circus performer and argument.

I wake abruptly and feel like I have no eyes. In delirium, a half-scream trickles from my lips and I feel around my forehead, my nose-bridge before my fingertips find my eyes and feel the relief of their moisture. It must be dark.

My eyelids close over again. Images begin to play on the lid dark; of a dream where I felt a sharp pain in my upper arm after stepping from the shower; then falling over, a genre of pain in my forehead after. There's nothing for a few seconds until I feel myself rolling, hitting my head off objects -- a wardrobe? a bed leg? -- the world hued in patches of sable and slate.

I hear some voices and open my eyes again. I allow them to adjust to any light that will let itself in but there is none. I try to stretch but my reach is impended by something that feels like metal. I feel around and it is becoming clear that I am not on a bed or carpet.

Written by Richard C

2

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

4.

Suggested props: .

(Groans, a shrill scream, intermittent)
"What... what's going.."
"Emily? Can you hear me, Emily? Stay with me Sarah."
"What.. what's going on?"
"You've been in an accident. We need to move you."
"My car?"
"What? No, you were on a plane. Emily, it's okay but I need you to stay awake now."
"Am I dying?"
"No. You'll be okay. But I need you to stay awake. Can you do that for me, Emily?"
(inaudible)
"Shhh. It's okay. Don't speak. We're lifting you now."
"Is he dead?"
"You're fine. We're worried about you right now."
"Make sure. Make sure..."
"Shhhh..."
"...he's dead."
"I need ice. Why am I waiting for ice?"
"He... he wants to hurt me."
"Emily? Emily? No, Emily, stay with me. Shit. Shit shit. I need help over here!"

Written by David Jackson

2

Next chapter: Write in the style of someone's hospital report

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1.

Suggested props: office block, artist and blasphemy.

Accessing "Doombass" file...

Opening "Doombass" file...

Initiating "Doombass" tracker...

Acquiring "Doombass" signal...

Locked on "Doombass" signal. Target is chasing another specimen. Specimen is alerted to Target's presence. Target has dispersed gas from bowels, specimen's reaction was correct in fleeing. Target is perplexed. Takes aggression on tree. Target has suffered damage. Rapidly moving about. Target's pain has not subsided.

Written by crewe4

1

Next chapter: Write in one-word sentences

2.

Suggested props: paper bag, octogenarian and violence.

Fuck. Run. Climb. Flee. Shout. Cry. Pain. Listen. Hide. Wait. Breathe. Breath. Breath. Listen. Listen. Look. Carefully. Emerge. Carefully. Step. By. Step. Carefully. Listen. Look. Run. Tree. Cover. Aim. Hide. Undercover. Camoflage. Breathe. Wait. Listen. Ready. Again. Run. Sprint. Leap. Climb. Scramble. Fall. Pain. Blood. Shit. Tourniquet. Pain. Infection. Smell. Pus. Broken. Blood. More. Stop. Think. Think. Think. Think. Think. Think. Panic. Panic. Panic. Breathe. Breathe. Concentrate. Plan. Retreat. Or. Run. Attack. Attack. Yeaghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!! Noise. Shout. Scream. Run. Challenge. Attack. Attack. Attack. Kill. Maim. Hurt. Capture. Contain. Restrain. Interrogate. Use. Abuse. Information. Sorted. Kill. Destroy. Evidence. Retreat. Retreat.

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

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1.

Suggested props: stolen glasses, octogenarian and betrayal.

CHUCK!! CHUCK!!
The sound of something metallic hitting on flesh.
SHISH!!! CLANG!!!
"Fuck, damn what in gods name did he eat?"
BURP!!!! the sound of putrid watery gooey splashing on solid surface.
"FUCK, WHERE IS THAT WHISKEY? IGOR"
"IGOR, IGOR WHERE IS THE WHISKEY IGOR"
CLANG!!!! DING DING !!! BAM!!
"ITS HERE MASTER ITS HERE"
from the door a mountain of a man walk in. He was huge buff with hairy everything but his face was so well defined you would have thought his head was surgically placed in that freakishly disturbingly hairy body.
He entered with a bottle as big as his body.
the room he entered was gloomy, smelly, bloody, he came in the middle of that room was a young girl with guts and hair and crap and shit and vomit and fucking juices down her apron.
Igor place a small glass on the table
CHINK!!
then he laboured trying to pored the fine whiskey down the small tiny cuppu.

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Just try and make it into a joke i suppose.

2.

Suggested props: gold ring, juggler and adultery.

I once knew I man called Igor
Who had a shit that made his bum sore
he had too much whisky
It made his frisky
and from his wench he demanded more

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Use one long continuous sentence.

3.

Suggested props: cheese, monkey and savagery.

Igor still from constipating for 3 hours and forcing that 20 meter long shit down the toilet which was hard because there was the blood the shit the kidney was that the mans testicals from five days ago, damn it smells so bad, wait Igor took a sniff, awwwwwww "I cant smell" there was whiskey piss a little ahem ahem and some other burp burp it was so so wrong yet Master keep Yelling "WHERE IS THE AIR FRESHERNERS IT SMELLS IGOR."

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

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1.

Suggested props: bike chain, circus performer and trickery.

Alexei Jones, noted philosopher, lesbian, and most recently author of the book, “The Ontological Pleasure of Scissoring in Pursuit of the Organic.” Her colleagues in the Gender Studies & Queer Theory department thought it was the marvelous, garnering two complimentary reviews by Miranda July and Lena Dunham.

Dr. Jones took another sip of Columbia blended organic free-range coffee mo-co-lotto-o coffee and began her journey on her next book: “The Virgin Mary? Or God Raped the Innocence of Women?” She stared at the title and the blinking cursor.

For the next three months, she worked tirelessly, leaving only enough time for farmer’s markets, obscure boutiques, and writing sarcastic letters to CEO's expressing her disgust that they did not respect the unique dignity and human rights of chickens. Tomorrow the book would hit newsstand all across America. She wondered what would happen.

Written by Jack.Ryan

1

Next chapter: Continue the story with reaction to her book

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1.

Suggested props: broken window, dying person and impoliteness.

'Ugg....me hungry. find food now' the creature bounced on all fours out of the cave and into the sun light. His triangle cloth waved between his legs as he darted for the nearest rock in search of something tasty. As he bounded forward something caught his eye, it had long hair that swooshed above and a cloth that covered her top and bottom.
'Woah....what that?' he darted for cover as the other being made way for him.
'Me Claire'
'Me....m...me' unable to finish the creature tipped back off his feet and thumped his head on sand and stone below.

Written by crewe2

1

Next chapter: Write using words with only one syllable

2.

Suggested props: nut, pilot and betrayal.

"You good?" Claire ask.
"Uh. Feet fly. Head hurt."
Me look up. Claire look down. Claire back to Light. Light glow hair. Claire shine so bright.
"You what?"
"Me say Claire."
"You say Claire. What is Claire?"
"Claire is me"
"Me Claire too?"
Claire look at me. Claire make me shake. Claire eye make me lost. Claire look weird at me.
"No me Claire. Who you?"
Me stare back weird. Who me? I me!
"Me Me, no?"
"Mimi? Hi Mimi me Claire"
Mimi? What is Mimi? What is Claire? Claire glow so bright. Claire make me heat up. Claire make me melt like Blue North. Must make Claire stop look.
"Ah here is nut! Nut Claire?"

Written by crewe4

1

Next chapter: Switch perspective

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1.

Suggested props: dead animal, artist and blasphemy.

Detective Dick stared at the body on the floor, he had seen some grim cases during his time on the force. Missing cats, loud chavs and worst of all the case of the stolen chocolate pudding at headquarters. This was by far his most challenging case.
" I wonder how he died" Dick pondered "strangled? raped? stabbed?"
"Boss" shouted P.C Tommy Copper( not to be confused with the dead comedian. P.C Tommy Copper only wore a fez at the weekend)" Its much worse"
P.C Cooper then held up the murder weapon
Detective Dick had a strong stomach but this made it turn.
"Death by banana peel those sick bastards!"

Written by crewe3

3

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

2.

Suggested props: stolen glasses, pilot and adultery.

"Yes Boss. Especially where it was used."
"You dont mean!?"
"I do. Disgusting to think of it."
"Aye. Abominable animals. Horrid way to go. Speared and opened like an umbrella. The coroner is gonna have a blast with this."
"You're correct Sir?"
"Christ! Freddy stop creeping up on me like that. Do we have to discuss this every single time."
"I do apologize Sir. I simply try my best to stay out of the way. Cooper mind if i take hold of that for evidence?"
"Sure thing Fred"
"Cheers!"
"Well then. I want to catch these bastards. Torturing a man with his dignity and ending it with a banana up the rear! Lets catch these bastards men!"

Written by crewe4

1

Next chapter: must use blimey, crickey and cheerio in dialogue

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1.

Suggested props: office block, dying person and unrequited love.

The mushrooms were flying around and the sky was purple ... I breathed in the smoke and floated around. Man, that was cool. I looked around and we were all spaced out. There seemed to be a teddy bear, and a soldier in a bearskin, and a mermaid. We were trying different stuff, gear from foreign parts, untried and untested. We certainly shooted up some shit. My mind was hazy. I tried to move but was paralyzed, my limbs heavy and leaden. I could remember that. There are parts I can't remember, but I could remember that, that feeling of helplessness. The room was shifting, the earth was spinning. I might even have died. In fact I nearly did. I remember someone coming into the room. The laugh was manic, like a hyena. Then I felt pain. Serious pain man. Shit. He was hacking at my limbs and there was nothing I could do about it. He didn't want stuff, he wanted us,piece by piece.

Written by crewe1

1

Next chapter: Switch perspective

2.

Suggested props: office block, monkey and argument.

I warned them, I told them all. I said it would start off with a high, with a laughter that only came from the deepest of disasters. They didn't listen. They told me to bring the stuff into work, I said that it affects people differently. Some people laugh and laugh, some people become someone completely different, like they've been waiting for the opportunity to come forth and others become clouded with darkness, possessive, loud, arrogant.... Demonic.

I didn't realise it got round the whole office block, everyone had lost the plot. Some were lifeless others had somehow morphed into mermaids and others monkeys. But then I heard a sound I hadn't heard since the last time I gave this stuff out. It was happening again. I heard the argument from down the hall. I was frozen.

"What the fuck are you doing to her? Somebody help!!"
There was screaming. It wasn't her screaming it was him.

Written by crewe3

1

Next chapter: Use one long continuous sentence.

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1.

Suggested props: bowl, octogenarian and betrayal.

Celia sits on the faux-leather armchair, balls of feet rested on a pile of cushions. She holds, but does not smoke, a cigar between her fingers; She stares upward, neck rested on the chair's back, staring at the smoke-stained continent on the roof. Mother told her to be here at 6PM; a time that had passed three minutes ago. She could hear Mother's voice echo through her head: "Be efficient; do not listen to what they say; be professional". A smile curved her lips; she had waited all year for this.

There's a clack of metal against brass, followed by a soft squeal of a hinge. She stubs the cigar on the chair's arm just before she hears a scream followed by "Honey there's someone here. Who are you. Who are you?" Celia stands, walks over to Mandy and James Cage, swipes at their throats and leaves the house through the open door, leaving the couple drowning in their own blood on the carpet

Written by Richard C

2

Next chapter: Switch perspective

2.

Suggested props: bike chain, artist and trickery.

I watched her walk away from the old boarding house. God she was ethereal, beautiful, angelic yet the way she took them out it was clear she was dangerous. I couldn't believe that after all these years of searching I had managed to finally find her, she had been running from me for far too long, and this time I would make sure she didn't escape. I flitted in and out of the woods following her car along the road. I knew where she would be heading and exact;y where she would be going. It was Friday and she did had the same routine for the past month that I had been watching her. A sign that she had become to relaxed, let her guard down and forgotten the potential danger she was in. Forgotten who she was, and more importantly what she was. As she pulled up at the rear of Indigo's entrance, I hid behind a tree blending easily in to the night. She entered, the doors sealing shut behind her.

Written by Sophia_7

2

Next chapter: Write only using dialogue

3.

Suggested props: paper bag, artist and argument.

'How did you...?'
'Simple really. Oh, put the knife down, Celia.'
'Tell me how you got in and I'll think about it.'
'Put the knife down. Jesus Christ, couldn't you at least have wiped it clean?'
'Tell me how you got in or it'll be your blood that's on it.'
'If you come any closer, I swear to God. Put the fucking knife down. Now!'
'Shit.'
'Good choice.'
'What are you doing here, Robert?'
'You took my job. The Cages - they were mine. Who told you to be there?'
'Who do you think?'
'Mother? Jesus - you know she's doing this on purpose, don't you? She's playing us off against each other, Celia, can't you see that?'
'What does it matter to you anyway? I've not heard from you in so long. For all I knew you dead.'
'Well here I am. Very much alive. Who's next on your list?'
'Some writer - David Jackson?'
'Same here. Now, are you going to let me do this one, or am I going to have to kill you?'

Written by Matthew Adamson

1

Next chapter: Use all suggested props

4.

Suggested props: bowl, pilot and adultery.

Robert's response was to hold his chest, which appears to exude a lot of blood. His knees bend then he falls, his skull cracks against the bathroom tiles. Celia walks to him, kneels by his head and forces him to look up at her by pulling his chin. `Robbie, you took too long to answer. I must go, but it was lovely seeing you.' She pulls him into a cubicle and rests his chin on the precipice of the toilet bowl. His wails get weaker and weaker and are puntuated by the sound of blood spattering porcelain. Celia washes her hands in the sink and speaks to the mirror, "I know all about Jackie by the way; you really did not need to lie as I really didn't care!"

The bathroom door opens and she passes a clubber who sees Robert: "Is he okay?" Hand on the door-frame Celia smiles: "Oh, he's fine. Just got his pilot's license. He is wasted!"

Written by Richard C

1

Next chapter: End the story

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1.

Suggested props: cheese, circus performer and argument.

Test

Written by David John Jackson

1

Next chapter: Test

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1.

Suggested props: broken window, naked person and bigotry.

The train was cold, the first train of the morning always is,but she wrapped up in her big scarf and tried to make herself as small as she could. The train was late as usual, but another regular traveller hit on and they started to talk, which always made the journey go quicker.

Written by Hazel

0

Next chapter: Use only questions

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