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Author Topic: Creative Writing  (Read 566 times)

Administrator

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Creative Writing
« on: July 30, 2018, 12:14:28 PM »

Start a thread, share your work
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Itz ME!

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #1 on: July 31, 2018, 08:49:45 PM »

"Hello Itz ME!"

https://www.youtube.com/embed/jsezr0qiFIc?rel=0"

Nope, but I'll work on it.
« Last Edit: July 31, 2018, 08:52:45 PM by Itz ME! »
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Itz ME!

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #2 on: July 31, 2018, 11:01:40 PM »

What the heck was that? "Start a new topic?" huh...

OK, what about

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Itz ME!

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #3 on: July 31, 2018, 11:02:37 PM »

And then this

« Last Edit: July 31, 2018, 11:06:08 PM by Itz ME! »
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josh

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #4 on: August 04, 2018, 07:20:16 PM »

What the heck was that? "Start a new topic?" huh...

OK, what about



At last!

After too long afloat on his makeshift raft, he had drawn within eyesight of an island and the flow of the waves seemed to be leading him to it.

His eyes were barely focusing. The yacht had been torn apart by the storm and he was pretty sure he had a concussion. But the island was big enough that he could see it, if not clearly. It appeared to be a blend of gray and green, with the gray sections climbing into the sky and the green sections in the middle of his path and low.

He would like to claim that he was steering his 'craft' toward them, but he barely had the energy to sit up, having ridden without food for at least two nights and days. Nonetheless, it seemed he would land on the grassy patch toward which he was heading. The sound of the turf picked up as he got nearer, bouncing off the base of what he assumed were cliffs.

Spray from the waves began to hit him and he knew it was close, now. He shut his eyes for a moment, imagining stretching out on the grass, drying and summoning energy to find food and fresh water. He figured the grass was a good sign that there must be fresh water nearby. The coracle like shard of boat began to rise and fall more rapidly. He reopened his eyes.

And realized his mistake as it smashed against the lichen-covered rocks.
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ffleate

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #5 on: August 07, 2018, 08:08:08 PM »


( excuse a basic question, but is this an "add-a-paragraph-to-the-ongoing-story thread"?,

 or is the most intriguing opening posted above going to be continued by the original poster? )
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josh

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #6 on: August 08, 2018, 11:42:01 PM »


( excuse a basic question, but is this an "add-a-paragraph-to-the-ongoing-story thread"?,

 or is the most intriguing opening posted above going to be continued by the original poster? )

My post was in response to the gorgeous picture accompanying it.

It was intended as a standalone flash fiction, rather than as a beginning. I suppose it could be a fine beginning. Thank you for the kind words.
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ffleate

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #7 on: August 17, 2018, 04:22:07 PM »

How did you insert those photos?  When I attempt to insert a photo, this: ]img[ ]/img[   appears (I had to reverse the brackets posting here, otherwise it vanishes in finished post).  I can't see an option to pick/upload a file.  I tried direct copy and paste, but nothing happens. 
« Last Edit: August 17, 2018, 04:30:46 PM by ffleate »
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ffleate

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #8 on: August 17, 2018, 04:36:12 PM »

I just figured it out.  Attachments and other options below, right in front of my eyes!!
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whiskeypriest

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #9 on: August 17, 2018, 04:58:25 PM »

What the heck was that? "Start a new topic?" huh...

OK, what about



At last!

After too long afloat on his makeshift raft, he had drawn within eyesight of an island and the flow of the waves seemed to be leading him to it.

His eyes were barely focusing. The yacht had been torn apart by the storm and he was pretty sure he had a concussion. But the island was big enough that he could see it, if not clearly. It appeared to be a blend of gray and green, with the gray sections climbing into the sky and the green sections in the middle of his path and low.

He would like to claim that he was steering his 'craft' toward them, but he barely had the energy to sit up, having ridden without food for at least two nights and days. Nonetheless, it seemed he would land on the grassy patch toward which he was heading. The sound of the turf picked up as he got nearer, bouncing off the base of what he assumed were cliffs.

Spray from the waves began to hit him and he knew it was close, now. He shut his eyes for a moment, imagining stretching out on the grass, drying and summoning energy to find food and fresh water. He figured the grass was a good sign that there must be fresh water nearby. The coracle like shard of boat began to rise and fall more rapidly. He reopened his eyes.

And realized his mistake as it smashed against the lichen-covered rocks.
His mistake crashed into the rocks?
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As long as the lady is paying for it... Why not take the vicuna?

Bart

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #10 on: August 17, 2018, 05:07:39 PM »

I liked "the sound of the turf picked up.... "

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"History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes. "

ffleate

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Re: Creative Writing
« Reply #11 on: August 17, 2018, 06:16:29 PM »

                                                     
                                                        A Letter From Thailand



Thaton, Thailand                       
                                                                                                                                                                    January 23rd                                                                         
My Dear Sister,

We had a long bike ride yesterday, and a slow lazy day today; we thought we'd take a walk up to a temple that we can see from our hotel balcony across the river. But after we crossed the bridge and walked up a little hill, we found ourselves there in ten minutes, so it wasn't quite the arduous hike we had imagined.

 However it had started to warm up a bit, so we thought that we'd better return to our hotel, and relax with some drinks, and build up our strength for tomorrow, when we might go somewhere else... that is, not another walk, but go to another town, one on the Mekong River, called Chiang Saen. It's in the so-called Golden Triangle.

 I was in that area about a hundred thousand years ago, but don't remember the village of Chiang Saen. We were doing a long trek in the hills.  We slept on the porches of bamboo huts, and washed in streams I guess, and ate rice from a pot over a fire. We were with four English women-- three school teachers and a nurse-- and they all sang together, wonderful harmonies.  We sat night after night around the fire, and our four English songbirds sang one song after another,  entrancing the Hill Tribe people.

On the final night of our trek,  they were too tired to sing. I think that disappointed the local people of the night's camp; our guide and porter had been advertising them, I guess.  But the four ladies declined, and hit their sleeping bags early. So I stepped up to the plate, and sang loudly and lustily –solo-- for a couple of hours, my voice echoing across the valley and through the mountains, and then eventually a neighbouring Hill Tribe showed up carrying some kind of torches, and what looked like pitchforks, and some firearms, and boy were they scary looking. I assumed of course that it had something to do with the opium trade, or enemies had invaded from Laos--and they had come to warn us. Indeed, it must have been the case, for they made us gather our things and run for our lives down the hills towards Chiang Rai which we did in great haste and thank god it was a full moon, because otherwise I don't know how we would have escaped in time.

oops, I must end here as we are going to dinner soon.

love,
me
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