Games Pass the Paragraph: has a winner

Discussion in 'Community' started by Nyota's Heart, Oct 16, 2012.

  1. Nyota's Heart Combos & Paragraphs Host

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    Yes, here in Florida, we're getting Sandy effects too in the shape of rain and tropical force winds. Thanks Juliet for the note. Definitely hope it's not as bad as it could be @};- -
  2. Juliet316 Streak for Colors Bonanza Winner

    Game Winner
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    Apr 27, 2005
    star 7
    Hoping it's not as bad as it could be here as well. We're battening down the hatches anyway.
  3. Nyota's Heart Combos & Paragraphs Host

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    Member Since:
    Aug 31, 2004
    star 6
    @TheGuardianofArlon

    @Juliet316

    @Jabba-wocky

    @EmpireForever
    @Jedi Gunny

    ---

    Your own stories are in your inboxes for the concluding sentences/paragraph. As you can tell [face_laugh] =D= they're vastly different from how they started. :D

    I will keep tabs on the 48 hours to send them back but will not strictly enforce it, just in case. Hopefully, there won't be a need to, due to no serious aftereffects of Hurricane/TS Sandy. [face_thinking]

    After I get them back, I'll post them in the game thread; y'all can read them and vote. :)
  4. Juliet316 Streak for Colors Bonanza Winner

    Game Winner
    Member Since:
    Apr 27, 2005
    star 7
    Tell me about it. We're still good here, so I sent my paragraph while I could.
    Jade_eyes likes this.
  5. TheGuardianofArlon Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 26, 2007
    star 6
  6. Nyota's Heart Combos & Paragraphs Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    Aug 31, 2004
    star 6
    Hi:

    48 hours to convo in your vote. Here are the stories.

    ******

    #1 Story:

    The Doctor and Rose could feel it in the air as they stepped out of the TARDIS. The atmosphere felt creepy, hugging the duo like a coccoon. The trees, grass, and plants looked long dead. The tree lined road leading to the mansion ahead felt like a macabre version of the beginning of every horror movie Mickey had made Rose watch when she was younger. She gripped the Doctor's hand tightly.


    She begged him not to let her go, but he sadly replied his leg was frozen. Teary eyed he fell away into water. Rose drifted along on the wood puking her guts out because she felt terrible. It was only then she realized that he could just come back in a different form, so then she sang My Favorite Things from the Sound of Music for the time to go by.

    But the time didn't go by; it went a sort of purple. Rose was gripping the Doctor's hand on a tree lined road
    leading to a mansion. "Come on, then", he said, flashing a grin that split his
    face from ear to ear, his legs frozen, as he disappeared into the water that
    hadn't been there just now. A sudden nausea swept over her, and she found
    herself vomiting violently on a piece of wood that was floating in the water
    that hadn't been there. She looked around for the Doctor, but she remembered
    that he had just drowned. She was singing My Favorite Things. She gripped the
    Doctor's hand tightly.

    In all this confusion, a time vortex opened up and swallowed Rose entirely. She panicked as her hand left that of the drowned Doctor, and she was somehow spit out in an alternate time dimension where the woods, instead of being filled with fuzzy animals, was filled with Teletubbies. Immediately, Rose had to vomit once again because the air turned purple in accordance with the faint memory of "Purple Haze", and she collapsed on the ground in terror. Finally, a Care Bear rip-off, whom somehow had been raised by the Teletubbies in their odd nomadic lifestyle, came over and began to poke Rose with a stick.

    "Yub Yub?" was all it said.

    He grimaced as the Doctor pulled away. He grimaced because Rose wouldn't. The preceding few minutes had been terrible. A half dozen times, he'd wanted to make it stop. But now, as blood-stained needles were neatly disposed of, and staff filed neatly out, he wished he was near begging they'd continue. He was no more ready to accept this than when he'd found her collapsed in the bathroom, head lolling in the toilet. This was it, though. She didn't come back, when the ambulance crew had given her overdose reversal agents. She hadn't come back with long days in the hospital. She hadn't come back to the sound of the naked desperation that made a reedy voiced man, choking with emotion, serenade her with childhood favorites. Whatever deep recess of her mind his sister had retreated into, she wasn't going to come back, even to offer the most visceral response to pain. One last time, he squeezed a hand, now just a lukewarm piece of meat.

    Rose shot up in bed, her heart pounding wildly, and her breathing eratic. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms, as if to erase the weird images of her nightmares. When she finally looks around, she sighs in relief at seeing her familar room on the TARDIS. She decided she wasn't sampling anymore weird looking food on the planets she and the Doctor went to; especially the purple bananas the Doctor insisted she try. Not if things like purple bananas made her have weird dreams like the one she just experienced.

    ______

    #2 Story:

    One day, a little goat decided to walk through the woods. Alone. Many times was the little goat told not to walk alone in the woods. The woods were a dark and scary place where no goat returns beyond the Moss Rock of the River unless accompanied by someone else. But being the young buck he was, he wanted to see why not. The little goat traveled through the woods till it got darker and darker due to the tree tops being wide in leaves. He then reached the River. All he had to do now was go right to the Moss Rock.

    The river was swollen with spring rain, and the normally dry Moss Rock, which protruded out into the river, was
    slick with the froth of the raging waters. What would typically have been an
    easy skip across was now fraught with peril. In the dim light of the sinking
    sun, the little goat slowly began making his way across, carefully finding his
    footing as he went along.

    The going was treacherous. Not only were the rocks across the way misshapen and broken by the forces of the raging water, but the goat kept slipping on the moss growing off of them. Finally, the goat made it to the other side, and there he collected himself for several seconds before proceeding. The Moss Rock was now behind him, meaning that he had passed the point of no return. How depressing that sounded, but the goat didn't care. He was now going to find out exactly what this whole Moss Rock thing was about.

    He pressed forward, the ground growing unsteady under his feet. The trees thinned. The soil dried. Sand. The heat was oppressive, pinned against him by his coat. Half of every step was wasted, sinking into the dunes. He plowed onward. Unpleasantness was not the same as danger, and for all his fretting, there had truly been very little of the latter. Why the warnings, then? His reverie kept him from noticing the gradually building, rhythmic roar until he was just over the dune from it. In one last burst of energy, he bounded over the hill and came into view of an endless blue expanse, lapping against the shore. He'd never seen anything like it. But it was the familiar more than the unfamiliar that disturbed him. So it was that in a moment of exhausted panic, an anguished bleat pierced the steady rumbling rhythm of the waves.

    He turned to go back, disappointed that there was nothing scary to worry about. The 'goats never return stuff' must have been some tale told to young goats to scare them from exploring. As he turned back onto the dune, suddenly a netting sprang up from around him, and lifted him up several feet in the air. He looked down to see an old man, snaggletoothed and mean looking, staring hungrily at him. The old man spoke but one sentence: "Another to add to my collection."

    Stricken with fright the little goat fainted. When he awoke other goats were looking at him. They helped him up and he looked around. He was back home. But how? Before he could say anything an elder goat spoke to him: "Next time when we tell you not to do something, we mean it for your benefit, not evil."
    "So it was all a sham?"
    "No," The elder goat said. "There are things across the Moss Rock, but you are too young, and even when you're old you should never try to do something alone."
    The little goat felt ashamed, but relieved he was okay. But he wondered one thing...who was the man? The little goat turned to see the Shepherd taking care of a sick little goat. The little goat turned to the elder goat.
    "Who gave the instruction about the Moss Rock and stuff?"

    ______


    #3 Story:



    Sam's body lay sprawled on the pavement in front of me, blood oozing out of three holes in the chest. The pistol still smoked in my hand, and there was a slight ringing in my ears. The city's nightlife kept on, uninterrupted, as though nothing had happened, but I stood there frozen, my knuckles white on the pistol grip. My breath left my mouth in steamy wisps in the late night December air, and it looked to me as though my soul had tendered its resignation and taken leave of me. Somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang for its twelfth and final time. I had begun the new year by murdering my best friend, and I hoped desperately that this was going to work.

    You see, it all started earlier that day, when I had found out that Sam was trying to work behind my back. In the criminal underworld, you could never really trust anyone, but I always trusted him for some odd reason. So when I found out that he was working against me to undermine my dealings with the East Side heroin addicts, I couldn't afford to let go any of my holdings. Thus, I used my pistol and gunned him down after calling him over for what I said needed to be some serious chat about our fair division of the drug trade. Now I just had to hope this would work, because if all went well, my holdings would expand and I would make more money. So I tossed Sam's body in a nearby dumpster and went to call a cab. When one finally came, I climbed inside. "Where to?" asked the cabbie.


    Where to indeed. I wondered about it the rest of the night, as I stayed up trying to rewarm frostbitten hands. Deliberately over-shooting the apartment by a half mile seemed less brilliant in retrospect. Not because it wasn't necessary--the driver must have noticed my jumpiness. Because it probably wasn't effective. Who didn't know me? Now they'd all seen me outside. How soon before the story got repeated? It wasn't something that I used to question. But the neighborhood was big, and I wasn't, finally, that different than the rest of them. My gun hand throbbed.

    I got out of the cab and walked the half - mile back to my apartment, intending to only get a few items to make an escape with. I opened the door and I could feel myself trembling once again. Sam and I had shared this apartment for many years. Now I killed him and nothing would ever be the same again. I decided before I packed to go to the bathroom. to wash my hands to both warm them up and wash the gunpowder that were on them. If only the water could cleanse my hands of the blood that was on them tonight.

    It was then I looked up in the
    mirror and I saw Sam behind me. I turned to see him staring right at me. My
    immediate thought is that my guilt was taking over out of what I've done, but he
    smiled at me like he always did. Was I hallucinating? Was I truly guilt ridden?
    Was it a ghost? Or was I on candid camera or fresh prince of Bel-Airing myself?I
    awoke again near the sink. I had blacked out due to hypothermia, I guess. But
    Sam was nowhere near.

    The linoleum was cold and wet against my skin, and I realized I was lying in a puddle of my own vomit. My body shook uncontrollably as I came down off of the drugs I had been on. The sun was cresting the horizon through the bathroom window, and I tried to reassemble the events of last night in the early morning dawn. Wrapping my arms around myself, I made my way to the kitchen to make some coffee and see if I could put any food down, though I doubted my stomach would hold it. On the way, I tripped on something soft and squishy; it squeaked as I put my weight on it. I picked it up, recognizing the bright pink gorilla toy that had been chewed to a frayed, slobbery pulp. I squeezed it again, and it wheezed pathetically. Usually this action brought about the skittering of nails on the hardwood floor, but nothing this time happened. "Sam...?" I started, but all at once the events of last night's trip hit me like a left hook delivered by Joe Frazier; Sam was dead because in my drug induced stupidity I had thought I was some sort of crime lord. The chew toy bounced off of the floor, and my knees met it there a moment later.
    _______

    #4 Story:



    There were once three pigs: Willy, Millie, and Mo. Willy was the adventurous one, Millie the quiet one, and Mo . . . well . . . to be perfectly frank, Mo was rather crazy. Anyways, while the three of them were walking to Candy Mountain one day, they ran straight into Charlie the Unicorn. Now, Charlie was being goaded to go there by his crazy friends, and was in no mood to talk to strangers, especially three pigs. But, he also looked rather confused about his surroundings. Willy, being brave and all, approached the Unicorn and said. "Hello there," he said bravely. "Are you lost?"

    In fact, he was. But he was also irritated for letting his friends talk him into it. Disappointed, too, about the apparent lack of candy. Not that he'd ever admit to the last one. Instead, he brayed and shot a sidelong glance down at his chubby lifeline. He couldn't muster up enough grumpiness to be entirely dismissive. Instead, he went for a thornily ambiguous, "Do I look lost to you?"

    Mo glared at the unicorn and replied "Yes, you do. But if your too prideful to ask for directions, we'll just be on our way. Come on, let's go guys." Willy and Millie just stared after Mo as he walked past his fellow pigs and the unicorn; as if unable to believe that Mo would just leave somebody lost like that. But Mo simply continued walking away toward Candy Mountain.

    "Fine with me," The Unicorn said. He walked further down in the opposite direction of Candy Mountain. He didn't need that he thought, nor the pigs. But as he walked he saw a large building that had some sort of candy sign on it. "Oh great I went to it anyway," he thought. So he walked into the building only to discover it was a giant chocolate factory...
    Meanwhile Mo kept going to Candy Mountain.

    Millie stood there quietly while all of this was going on--like she always did. Her whole life, in retrospect, had been a long string of moments of her just sitting back while the rest of the world lived their lives. She had been sad when her parents died, of course, but now she was glad; glad that they couldn't see the waste she had made of her life; the missed opportunities and adventures never undertaken. She was too afraid to step out from Willy's shadow; too worried about Mo's problems to even consider creating her own. So she stood there and she went along and she took it. Every day. And now, here they were, today, going to candy mountain. Candy mountain, which everyone knew was a myth; a legend; an old hobo tale; everyone knew it wasn't real and yet she had, once again, allowed Willy and Mo to push her along. Well not anymore. She had seen in the strange unicorn a stubborn fire; an ember of independence that she had always yearned for. Today she was a new pig. Today she would live. Let Willy go off on his wild goose chase; let Mo figure out his own issues. It was time to go on her own goose chase; time to sort out her own issues. Today belonged to Millie, and she was going to seize it.

    So she headed through the woods until she found Candy Cabin, which had been another myth. Opening the door, she stepped inside, and to her amazement, it was not full of candy. Instead, it looked like any other log cabin in the woods, but as soon as her foot hit the floor boards, a lumberjack, decked out in his flannel outfit (and looking like he hadn't left the 90's, but that's another story) rushed at her with an axe in hand. Millie ducked the axe swipe, and then promptly kicked the lumberjack in the leg. He fell down, and then she tied his arms behind his back.

    "Wha . . .?" was all the lumberjack said.

    Millie, after finding some candy in the fridge, walked away from the cabin. Meanwhile, Mo had driven himself crazy after running into a tree, and Willy had never quite found Candy Mountain. So the day belonged to her.

    ______

    #5 Story:

    He keeled over for a moment, opening his eyes only when his head pitched forward under the weight of gravity. He squinted down the corridor, less for the pale fluorescent lights than to reconcile the absence of the man he thought he'd saw there just before. He was getting ahead of himself. It was perhaps his body's way of pushing back, of signalling it could go no further. Rather than fight it, he reached a hand back to massage the nape of his neck. When the time came, he'd be goaded along by adrenaline. Until then, he kept huddled over his bag, pitching unsteadily between the mild nausea of fatigue and the bliss of sleep, between anticipation and relief, and a somewhat abstracted fragment of his consciousness too worn to distinguish between it all. He didn't spare a thought about whether the other side of the gate would be equally indistinct.


    When he next regained consciousness, he was lying on a cot, white sheets covering him up to his chest. He glanced around, trying to get a sense of his surroundings; but the light was just enough to inform him that he was in a room, but too low to make out anything in it. Fear knotted in his stomach. He did not know how he got there, in that room. He started to sit up, only to find he was tied to the bed by his wrists.

    He struggled a little bit, but was restrained with no chance of escape. He leaned over, his hands on his knees, and pondered his unknown situation. He didn't know his terrible situation...but he decided one thing: He would survive. He then sung said song as loudly and annoyingly as he could to spite any voice monitors in there.

    He stopped suddenly. He had been sure someone had been harmonizing with him. His eyes searched the dim room frantically, but the light didn't extend far past his cot. The corners were shrouded in darkness. From that darkness came a wet smack on the tiled floor; it echoed in the empty room. Another soon followed, and the sound of something being dragged, scraping across the floor, had begun to accompany it. It grew closer. He broke out into a cold sweat, and his mouth worked in horror, but he was unable to make a sound. Something moved slowly under the sheets towards his feet.

    There was nothing he could do. He began to feel as the thing, whatever it was, made its way up to his chest, and
    then right in front of his face. He could feel its breath on his face, and he squinted to look at it. What was looking back at him was a two-eyed beast, its eyes as big as saucers. It then smacked him across the face with two hard slaps,
    and then squeaked at him in some unintelligible jibberish. Then, its mission
    complete, the beast slithered back out, leaving him in the bed alone once again.
    And the man fainted, his sense of reality completely destroyed by this
    nonsensical terror.

    There were long minutes before his shock faded. But what replaced it was satisfaction. More than enough to erase any tinge of regret or failure. Knowledge of his imminent death paled next to what he could now call fact. They validated the long hours of doubt, the insomnia, the churning stomach and the desperate estrangement from everyone he'd cared about. It had been too much, to risk so much for something he wasn't even certain of. To know, though--everything was different now. He had seen the face of his enemy. He hadn't made a mistake after all. Nor had any of the others. The others who were coming, and would deliver the package. As for him, now? He drifted into unconciousness yet again. He'd never
    slept so well.

    =D= =D=

    Fantabulosity LOL [:D]
  7. TheGuardianofArlon Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 26, 2007
    star 6
    the heck is with all these stories?
  8. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    This is actually the weirdest batch there's been in a while.
    NYCitygurl and Jade_eyes like this.
  9. Nyota's Heart Combos & Paragraphs Host

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    Aug 31, 2004
    star 6
  10. TheGuardianofArlon Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 26, 2007
    star 6
  11. Nyota's Heart Combos & Paragraphs Host

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    Member Since:
    Aug 31, 2004
    star 6
  12. Nyota's Heart Combos & Paragraphs Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    Aug 31, 2004
    star 6
    Hi:

    Revealing the authors behind the stories:

    #1 Juliet316

    #2 TheGuardianofArlon

    #3 EmpireForever
    #4 jedi Gunny

    #5 Jabba-wocky.

    ***

    #4 got the most votes. =D=

    @};-

    For future ference, players: please let me know if you got the tags. They work when I send them in fics, and I'm doing them the same way.

    And also, would you like a convo/pm to all players not just when the game starts but right before voting?

    Thanks for an entertaining round.

    :)
  13. TheGuardianofArlon Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 26, 2007
    star 6
    Sure, when is the next round?
  14. Juliet316 Streak for Colors Bonanza Winner

    Game Winner
    Member Since:
    Apr 27, 2005
    star 7
    I enjoyed it, it was awesome.
  15. NYCitygurl NSWFF Manager

    Manager
    Member Since:
    Jul 20, 2002
    star 9
    Congrats, Gunny! And thanks to Jade for hosting :)
    Jade_eyes likes this.
  16. Nyota's Heart Combos & Paragraphs Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    Aug 31, 2004
    star 6
    [face_laugh] I don't know if this is too soon or not ;)

    Sign -up

    1.

    2.

    3.

    4.

    5.

    6.

    :)
  17. Darth Ibonek Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2013
    star 2
    Bump..... :D

    Sign -up

    1. Darth Ibonek

    2.

    3.

    4.

    5.

    6.
    Jade_eyes likes this.
  18. Juliet316 Streak for Colors Bonanza Winner

    Game Winner
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    Apr 27, 2005
    star 7
    Sign -up
    1. Darth Ibonek

    2. juliet316

    3.

    4.

    5.

    6.
    Jade_eyes likes this.
  19. TheGuardianofArlon Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 26, 2007
    star 6
    1. Darth Ibonek

    2. juliet316

    3.TheGuardianofArlon

    4.

    5.

    6.
    Jade_eyes likes this.
  20. Nyota's Heart Combos & Paragraphs Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    Aug 31, 2004
    star 6
    3 more slots, although 2 more players would work also :) [face_batting]
    Last edited by Jade_eyes, Mar 12, 2013
  21. TheGuardianofArlon Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Feb 26, 2007
    star 6
  22. NYCitygurl NSWFF Manager

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    star 9
  23. EmpireForever Chosen One

    Member Since:
    Mar 15, 2004
    star 8
    I do I do.

    1. Darth Ibonek

    2. juliet316

    3.TheGuardianofArlon

    4. NYCitygurl

    5. EmpireForever

    6.
  24. The Great No One Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jun 4, 2005
    star 8
    i are in and such

    1. Darth Ibonek

    2. juliet316

    3.TheGuardianofArlon

    4. NYCitygurl

    5. EmpireForever

    6. Trimaj
    Jade_eyes likes this.
  25. The Great No One Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Jun 4, 2005
    star 8
    soooo... just thinking, but this seems like it should happen more than once every four months or so... just sayin'.