Author Topic: Writing Prompt  (Read 1081 times)

Offline Krest I V

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Writing Prompt
« on: October 11, 2014, 11:52:50 pm »
Here, Kane.

A man breaks into our universe and informs you that you're a work of fictions. He offers to take you back to the "real" world and you go.

Write about what happens.

Offline Kryptonite

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Re: Writing Prompt
« Reply #1 on: October 13, 2014, 05:57:54 pm »
Okay let me do this in like 3 hours when I'm stoned don't let me forget.
Da fuq are you doing in a graffiti painted hobo dungeon for?

weed
Just lost all the respect I once had for you.



Offline Recoil

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Re: Writing Prompt
« Reply #2 on: October 15, 2014, 03:29:47 am »
Okay let me do this in like 3 hours when I'm stoned don't let me forget.

Nub.



As I laid on my bed gazing around my room to create a thought, I glanced atop my end-table at my Bob Marley lava lamp just before reminiscing a quote from him: "Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery; None but ourselves can free our minds." Surely that meant something. We are stuck in a world inside our own heads, isn't it possible that the world is so beyond our comprehension that we are simply ignorant to a "truer" objective reality? Or perhaps I was merely over-pondering - either way, something hadn't felt quite right about the world I was sitting in. Whether it was the bizarre fluency of the lava lamp or the distant blurs of a train horn, something felt out of place.

The contemplation was interrupted by a loud three bangs on my apartment door. My heart skipped into a prance and my eyes jutted towards my alarm clock. Who knocks on someone's door at 3AM in the morning?

As I approached my door I meticulously slouched to look in the peephole to see a man in vintage clothing. His hair was gelled and very dark brown, and his eyes were staring directly at the peephole with a condescending look. Well shit, he knew I was home. This just got a whole lot creepier.

Entirely accepting the possibility of being murdered in cold blood, I opened the door mumbling, "What the f*ck dude? It's late, who are you?"

With a boisterous chuckle, he replied "Ha! I know this is a bit odd, I apologize. I'm a door to door salesman."

"Why are you out this late?"

"I work night shifts."

"What the hell is there to sell to sleeping people?"

He chuckled again. "I'm going to sell you an idea. Maybe to.. emancipate yourself?"

Although further creeped out, I was more-so intrigued. "Ok, what the hell is this?" I said.

He stepped inside swiftly beside me, flinging up his right arm towards the open doorway. With a loud THWARP! what was formerly the hallway of my apartment complex morphed into clouds. Yes, literally f*cking clouds. An abhorrent phase of noises and winds flooded into my apartment, causing me to lose balance of my feet.

He put his arm on my elbow and gestured out the door. "Come with me, into the real world."

My voice struggled to be heard of the loud sound of wind. "The 'real' world?"

He then moved his arm up to my upper-arm and firmly hoisted my entire body through the doorway at an alarming speed. Feeling like I had just been pushed off a diving board, my face became pudding to be molded by the air resistance as I was taken on my first ever involuntary sky-dive. Oh, and one without a parachute.

As I fell through the air, I realized why I could never be in an action movie; other than the wind, there was complete silence. More convivial folk than I would accompany their death fall with screams of terror, but of course I had to attempt to be over-intelligent and not let go of even a slight yelp. My logic for it was, how would it help anything? Screaming or not screaming, the pavement would crush my fragile human body.

Instead of the pavement making ends meet with me, I landed on a soft cushion of clouds that cradled me like a throne. The man was hovering afloat among the clouds giving me direct eye contact, pressing his two hands together in front of him.

"Are you God?" I asked.

He gave the same, boisterous laugh. "Do you really believe that?"

Before I could ask any more questions, he said, "You have been living a false reality. You are a protagonist in a writer's book in the real world with the illusion of memories and experiences. You are now in the real world." He then reached into his pocket to pull out a joint and say, "Swag, b*tch."



Took me a legit hour to write this, so don't even give me shit criticisms on it.

EDIT: Fixed a couple grammar mistakes, so ya.
« Last Edit: October 15, 2014, 03:45:04 am by Recoil »
Dem digits

From his heights of wisdom he will look down on vain and agitated beings, as one who lives on a mountaintop looks down on those who live in the plains.

Offline Krest I V

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Re: Writing Prompt
« Reply #3 on: October 15, 2014, 04:11:46 am »
Oh God your views are so present in that piece hahaha.

Offline wolf

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Re: Writing Prompt
« Reply #4 on: October 15, 2014, 05:22:09 am »
I even reminded Kane about this and he said something about a cat and his drawing skills then left.

Offline Kryptonite

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Re: Writing Prompt
« Reply #5 on: October 15, 2014, 04:04:49 pm »
I even reminded Kane about this and he said something about a cat and his drawing skills then left.
Looool
Da fuq are you doing in a graffiti painted hobo dungeon for?

weed
Just lost all the respect I once had for you.



Offline Ry60003333

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Re: Writing Prompt
« Reply #6 on: October 18, 2014, 07:31:32 pm »
There I was on a fine Saturday evening, sitting in my apartment while browsing the WorldScape forums. Skype was dinging nonstop in the background from the thousands of notifications I get every single day. Most people want to smash my phone into tiny pieces, but I've gotten used to the sound. It is a comforting sound, reminding me that there are people on the Internet who still need me. Then everything changed.

A poof of smoke appeared and a short man with brown hair appeared in my apartment. "What are you doing here?!" I exclaimed. "I am here to save you from this fantasy land" the man stated. I then proceeded to dump my cup of coffee on him and tell him to get the f*ck out of my apartment, as I had programming to do.

The end!
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Offline Kryptonite

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Re: Writing Prompt
« Reply #7 on: October 19, 2014, 12:15:35 pm »
Ryan I think you'll be the next great writer of our time.
Da fuq are you doing in a graffiti painted hobo dungeon for?

weed
Just lost all the respect I once had for you.



Offline Krest I V

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Re: Writing Prompt
« Reply #8 on: October 19, 2014, 05:07:34 pm »
That brought a tear to my eye, Ryan.

Offline Ry60003333

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Re: Writing Prompt
« Reply #9 on: October 19, 2014, 05:47:02 pm »
I'm touched that you guys enjoyed my story! :')
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