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[Iceman]

I wrote the final paragraph to a short story that we as a community are going to author. Read it, get your own feeling for what the story is about and write a paragraph that you think should immediately preceed it. That's right, it's memento-style, patchwork short story thinger. I think it'll be cool just to see how different everybodys' styles are. Let's just see how this goes:


"He held her in his arms as the last breaths left her body. The tears had stopped running long ago leaving tracks on his muddied face like a dry delta on a once fertile land. He closed his eyes in the darkness and made a list of the reasons left for living. Furrowing his brow he tried to keep the torrent of images at bay. Well, the baseball season was about to start again and there’s that one girl in payroll… A flash in the distance penetrated his eyelids and threw his rods and cones into a paranoid panic. He opened his eyes to a visual spectacle: a new day dawning like a field of orange flowers opening in a westward wave. He looked back down at the wilting beauty in his arms and smiled a bitter smile. The universe has a sick sense of humor. If that sun would have risen mere minutes earlier she would have been saved. With a resolve completely foreign to him he carried the body in his arms to the edge and let it drop. As she slipped from his arms his own stomach heaved as if it was in freefall. As a sweeping feeling of nausea overtook him and commanded control of his body he froze. He heard the piercing sound of a scream coming from a hundred feet below him. The scream faded until it was gone. He got on his knees, and after throwing up, passed out on the desert floor."

 

[Drinky Crow]

I just finished writing seven pages and now my head hurts. Writing sucks. I'm going to take up drinking professionally.

 

[android]

It was so quick. A slight breeze flowed from her mouth, emptying her lungs. No... No.... Fuck... No... No....No. Tears escaped their prisons at the corner of his eyes, raining upon her ivory skin.
"John..... John, look at me... Please, look at me."
He turned towards her and knew his world was crumbling. He could see the agony rack her body with every breath.
"I don't blame you." she exhaled.
Her breathing was becoming more laboured. He could see her lungs struggle to breathe, her heart to beat, her eyes to focus, her body to live. She took one last look into his eyes and then shut hers for what would become the last time. He began to rock her, hoping to ease her into the world beyond.

Took a shot. By the way how did the contest you entered go?





Mike : I think before me. Memento style

 

[Mike Works]

So am I supposed to write a paragraph that precedes android's now, or am I supposed to do my own that precedes yours?

 

[Manabanana]

As much I'd like to contribute, I don't want to fuck anything up. All I ask is that the next paragraph starts with, "This is not what he had in mind early last night when the limbo contest began."

 

[Drozmight]

John and Clara, drunk and giddy with excitement, exited the building through the rear, finding themselves in a back alley. The air was chill, and realizing Clara to be cold, John began removing his jacket. Before he could finish, however, a voice from behind them rumbled, "No, please... allow me." Realizing who it was, John turned around and shielded Clara from the dark figure standing between them and the street. This was it. The door locked behind them. There was only one way out. Through him.

 

[Blackie]

John and Clara, drunk and giddy with excitement, exited the building through the rear, finding themselves in a back alley. The air was chill, and realizing Clara to be cold, John began removing his jacket. Before he could finish, however, a voice from behind them rumbled, "No, please... allow me." Realizing who it was, John turned around and shielded Clara from the dark figure standing between them and the street. This was it. The door locked behind them. There was only one way out. Through him.

What does this have to do with the previous paragraphs? Where's the connection?

 

[Iceman]

Let's try this again. Let me give you a primer:

"This is not what he had in mind early last night when the limbo contest began. That was two hundred miles and several margaritas away. Up until now this had been the best honeymoon he'd ever been on. Now instead of ducking under bamboo stick and getting some nice peaks under short skirts he was ducking behind rocks and peaking through thorny brush..."

Now somebody finish this paragraph.. so several things have to happen here:

1) you have to mention the girl
2) you have to have her get killed or attacked
3) the attacker/killer (in whatever form) has to go away or be dispatched
4) she has to die

good luck.


As far as the short story contest goes. I didn't place. 140 contestants, didn't crack (pun) the top 10. I have some theories as to why I wasn't even mentioned but they're mostly bred from bitterness. I wholeheartedly accept the fact that I'm just a beginner in this game and that there are others among the throng that entered the contest that have not only been doing this longer but have completely devoted their lives to this discipline. I will not, however, accept the notion that any of them have more talent than I do... how else would I continue to keep writing? I have to be somewhat hardheaded.

 

[whytemyke]

He tossed his keys on the counter as he walked into his lonely, empty home. Sullenly he set his bottle of booze down next to them, and stumbled over to set his dripping coat down on the chair. Ever since she left, it's been too empty. He wanted to break down sometimes, but that just wasn't his gag. Tears were for the innocent, the weak. Not for the guilty. Guilty men get no second chances, he remembered from a time long passed. As he sat down on his couch, substituting as a bed for too many night lately, he listened to the silence. Absolutely no sound at all, save the wind blustering against the windows, just as hard as ever. The perfect metaphor, he thought with a smirk, for his ruined life. Keeping the storm out but never forgetting about it. He reached over to set his watch on the coffee table, next to his head, and reached for the picture frame. In the glare of the moonlight, shining through the window behind him, he stared not into the picture, but almost through it, remembering when he was happy. Remembering holding his daughter in his arms, not in a picture frame. Her beautiful blonde hair and pink barrettes, and she was always smiling. Nothing could keep her from smiling. Not when she fell off her bike, and certainly not when her father held her bleeding body, hoping for one more day. It was always one more day, wasn't it? Regret was foreign to her. But not to him. He remembered the feeling all too well, taking his cold, hard gun and setting it on the table across from him. They had come for him, and taken her. Rolling onto his side, and curling the blanket over his body, he thought to himself one simple thought.

"Well, they've got my attention now, don't they?"

His deadly stare grew short as his eyes closed slowly, drifting to sleep.

 

[Iceman]

I like it whytmyke.. but two things occur to me:

1) that paragraph cannot immediately preceed my first paragraph.

and

2) I've confused a lot of people by mentioning memento.

This is what I had in mind (just to be clear):

My paragraph is to be considered the final paragraph to a short story. So, for example, my paragraph is paragraph number 12 in a short story made up of 12 paragraphs. So the next paragraph should be number 11. In this case it should contain information regarding what happened to the girl in my final paragraph.. that is, why she died (and why the sun should have anything to do with it.) It's up to you guys.. I kinda left the story open to a number of possibilities...

 

[android]

I like it whytmyke.. but two things occur to me:

1) that paragraph cannot immediately preceed my first paragraph.

and

2) I've confused a lot of people by mentioning memento.

This is what I had in mind (just to be clear):

My paragraph is to be considered the final paragraph to a short story. So, for example, my paragraph is paragraph number 12 in a short story made up of 12 paragraphs. So the next paragraph should be number 11. In this case it should contain information regarding what happened to the girl in my final paragraph.. that is, why she died (and why the sun should have anything to do with it.) It's up to you guys.. I kinda left the story open to a number of possibilities...

Yeah not memento more like the backwards Seinfeld episode. One paragraph followed by the one before it and so on.

Iceman: Shame about the contest. It was good regardless of where it placed.

 

[Iceman]

Thanks for that, android.

I'll post excerpts from the winning entries once they are posted.

So any other takers on the next paragraph?

 

[Manabanana]

YESSSSSSS! Thank you Iceman! This is a really neat thread.

 

[Memles]

I have no idea if this is out of order of not, but I see this as the paragraph right before the one in the original post. I think that was the purpose of the primer, so here goes nothing.

This is not what he had in mind early last night when the limbo contest began. That was two hundred miles and several margaritas away. Up until now this had been the best honeymoon he'd ever been on. Now instead of ducking under bamboo stick and getting some nice peaks under short skirts he was ducking behind rocks and peaking through thorny brush, here he was holding his wife's wedding ring in his hand, struggling to give himself the courage to part the prickly branches and step onto the desert floor. The desert oasis was glistening in the sunrise, and thinking back to his carefree childhood on the beaches of his homeland, he reminded himself of how amazing this last day had been until now. He looked back at where his wife had dumped his motorcycle, and at the taxi which had brought him on his way. He stepped forward onto the sand, and his wife turned quickly. He held out the ring, trying to get her to return, but she wouldn't let him speak. She told him to leave, and she told him that they can't stay married. He is confused, but relentless, attempting to force the ring onto her finger playfully. Tears pouring down her face, she slaps him and begins screaming at him to run. She tells him to run as far away as he possibly could. She says that they're coming for her. He has no idea what she means, but as she screams he begins to back away. For a single moment, all noise leaves. The water is silent, the screams die down, and an eerie calm overtakes the small sandy spot. The silence is ripped apart by a gunshot. His wife, who only 24 hours earlier had been a complete and total stranger, suddenly fell to the desert floor. Ignoring any sort of reflex to find cover from the gunshots, he ran over to her side. With her last strength she pulled up her sleeve slightly. Exposing the skin himself as her hand fell, he saw a small red dot, blinking on and off. As she died, he had no time to attempt to discern what he had just seen. All he could do was see his wife of less than 24 hours dying, and cry.

 

[whytemyke]

meh... I thought I just had to write something that came before your paragraph... not exactly before it. I was picturing something more like 21 Grams, where you don't really get the 'start' of the story until halfway through the flick

 

[Iceman]

sorry, whytemyke, it was my mistake.

Okay so we have the last two chapters (thanks, memles):

"This is not what he had in mind early last night when the limbo contest began. That was two hundred miles and several margaritas away. Up until now this had been the best honeymoon he'd ever been on. Now instead of ducking under bamboo sticks and getting some nice peaks under short skirts he was ducking behind rocks and peaking through thorny brush. Here he was holding his wife's wedding ring in his hand, struggling to give himself the courage to part the prickly branches and step onto the desert floor. The desert oasis was glistening in the sunrise, and thinking back to his carefree childhood on the beaches of his homeland, he reminded himself of how amazing this last day had been until now. He looked back at where his wife had dumped his motorcycle, and at the taxi which had brought him on his way. He stepped forward onto the sand, and his wife turned quickly. He held out the ring, trying to get her to return, but she wouldn't let him speak. She told him to leave, and she told him that they can't stay married. He is confused, but relentless, attempting to force the ring onto her finger playfully. Tears pouring down her face, she slaps him and begins screaming at him to run. She tells him to run as far away as he possibly could. She says that they're coming for her. He has no idea what she means, but as she screams he begins to back away. For a single moment, all noise leaves. The water is silent, the screams die down, and an eerie calm overtakes the small sandy spot. The silence is ripped apart by a gunshot. His wife, who only 24 hours earlier had been a complete and total stranger, suddenly fell to the desert floor. Ignoring any sort of reflex to find cover from the gunshots, he ran over to her side. With her last strength she pulled up her sleeve slightly. Exposing the skin himself as her hand fell, he saw a small red dot, blinking on and off. As she died, he had no time to attempt to discern what he had just seen. All he could do was see his wife of less than 24 hours dying, and cry.

He held her in his arms as the last breaths left her body. The tears had stopped running long ago leaving tracks on his muddied face like a dry delta on a once fertile land. He closed his eyes in the darkness and made a list of the reasons left for living. Furrowing his brow he tried to keep the torrent of images at bay. Well, the baseball season was about to start again and there’s that one girl in payroll… A flash in the distance penetrated his eyelids and threw his rods and cones into a paranoid panic. He opened his eyes to a visual spectacle: a new day dawning like a field of orange flowers opening in a westward wave. He looked back down at the wilting beauty in his arms and smiled a bitter smile. The universe has a sick sense of humor. If that sun would have risen mere minutes earlier she would have been saved. With a resolve completely foreign to him he carried the body in his arms to the edge and let it drop. As she slipped from his arms his own stomach heaved as if it was in freefall. As a sweeping feeling of nausea overtook him and commanded control of his body he froze. He heard the piercing sound of a scream coming from a hundred feet below him. The scream faded until it was gone. He got on his knees, and after throwing up, passed out on the desert floor."

Who's next? Manabanana?

 

[Iceman]

Okay I'll do the honors:

"His eyes focused on the red pinpoint of light in the distance. In the dust and the darkness the light danced around like a drunken tinkerbell. Whether it be to Neverland or to a netherland he was determined to follow. He felt his taxicab skid across the dirt and brush and then suddenly take flight. He found land and traction a second later and swerved to regain control and find Rudolph's red nose once more. The rigid body of the taxi driver fell against his shoulder and he pushed him back to the passenger side seat. He was comfortable with the idea of rigor mortis but that didn’t make the goofy smile frozen on his face any less unsettling. He caught some more air while trying to keep the red light in front of him. He was absolutely flummoxed with how she could keep control of that motorcycle in such rough terrain at that speed. He checked his speedometer. They were moving at 80 miles an hour over unpaved desert. This was insane. Although, he thought, it shouldn’t surprise him now after seeing those stunts she pulled back in the traffic on the strip in Vegas. Was she even human? He eyes quickly passed over the rear view mirror and he caught a glimpse of something. He could have sworn he just saw headlights? He looked back at the rear view mirror and saw nothing. Had she really been telling the truth about being hunted? It didn’t matter right now. He had to stop this crazy chase and talk to his new bride. All of the sudden the red light made a circular motion in the darkness ahead of him. Did the motorcycle just flip twenty feet in the air? He slammed on the breaks and powerslid the car to an abrupt halt, opening the door and unbuckling his seat belt in one swift move. He ran towards the light, tripping and falling all over the alien landscape. He finally fell face first at the feet of his fallen bride. He saw glowing eyes turn to him. In the moonless night it was as eerie a sight as he’d ever seen. She scrambled to her feet and started sobbing as she ran away from him. He held out his arms in desperation unsure what to say… how to react. As his arms slowly descended down to the ground his hands settled on something vaguely familiar. In a moment he realized it was the wedding ring he had purchased not a day earlier. He scrambled behind a nearby bush and waited for his eyes to adjust and his mind to clear. He didn't know how much time had passed before he finally regained his composure."

and the rest of the story so far:

"This is not what he had in mind early last night when the limbo contest began. That was two hundred miles and several margaritas away. Up until now this had been the best honeymoon he'd ever been on. Now instead of ducking under bamboo sticks and getting some nice peaks under short skirts he was ducking behind rocks and peaking through thorny brush. Here he was holding his wife's wedding ring in his hand, struggling to give himself the courage to part the prickly branches and step onto the desert floor. The desert oasis was glistening in the sunrise, and thinking back to his carefree childhood on the beaches of his homeland, he reminded himself of how amazing this last day had been until now. He looked back at where his wife had dumped his motorcycle, and at the taxi which had brought him on his way. He stepped forward onto the sand, and his wife turned quickly. He held out the ring, trying to get her to return, but she wouldn't let him speak. She told him to leave, and she told him that they can't stay married. He is confused, but relentless, attempting to force the ring onto her finger playfully. Tears pouring down her face, she slaps him and begins screaming at him to run. She tells him to run as far away as he possibly could. She says that they're coming for her. He has no idea what she means, but as she screams he begins to back away. For a single moment, all noise leaves. The water is silent, the screams die down, and an eerie calm overtakes the small sandy spot. The silence is ripped apart by a gunshot. His wife, who only 24 hours earlier had been a complete and total stranger, suddenly fell to the desert floor. Ignoring any sort of reflex to find cover from the gunshots, he ran over to her side. With her last strength she pulled up her sleeve slightly. Exposing the skin himself as her hand fell, he saw a small red dot, blinking on and off. As she died, he had no time to attempt to discern what he had just seen. All he could do was see his wife of less than 24 hours dying, and cry.

He held her in his arms as the last breaths left her body. The tears had stopped running long ago leaving tracks on his muddied face like a dry delta on a once fertile land. He closed his eyes in the darkness and made a list of the reasons left for living. Furrowing his brow he tried to keep the torrent of images at bay. Well, the baseball season was about to start again and there’s that one girl in payroll… A flash in the distance penetrated his eyelids and threw his rods and cones into a paranoid panic. He opened his eyes to a visual spectacle: a new day dawning like a field of orange flowers opening in a westward wave. He looked back down at the wilting beauty in his arms and smiled a bitter smile. The universe has a sick sense of humor. If that sun would have risen mere minutes earlier she would have been saved. With a resolve completely foreign to him he carried the body in his arms to the edge and let it drop. As she slipped from his arms his own stomach heaved as if it was in freefall. As a sweeping feeling of nausea overtook him and commanded control of his body he froze. He heard the piercing sound of a scream coming from a hundred feet below him. The scream faded until it was gone. He got on his knees, and after throwing up, passed out on the desert floor."

 

[Memles]

I would love to add another paragraph, but it defeats the whole community thing. Plus, I want to see what others get from what I wrote. You're pretty spot-on, I think, although where it came from in my head is slightly more specific. It's no fun if I set MYSELF up for something.

 

[Iceman]

I know what you mean.. I was trying to set up ninja pirate vampires with my initial paragraph..

C'mon creative minds of GAF, write you're minds out!