open || a collaborative writing game in honor of nanowrimo!

[complementing]

WHO: YOU!
WHERE: Recollé Community Center, gymnasium
WHEN: Forward dated to November 15th
WHAT: A creative writing event hosted by your local ReVA coordinator, Minako.
WARNINGS: None foreseen, see the OOC post for more information!

[Hello! Welcome to the Recollé Community Center, where Minako is hosting a NaNoWriMo event today as a fall ReVA event. NaNoWriMo, or the National Novel Writing Month, encourages writers to push themselves to the limit and write a 50,000 word novel by the end of the month. Obviously, this is a big undertaking, and ReVA by no means expects anyone to do that today. Instead, Minako has planned a fun, light-hearted, and quick creative writing activity.

Signs posted on the walls leading into the gym area explain what will happen:]

1) Sit down at any table you'd like!
2) On the provided sheet of paper, write down 1-2 sentences to start off a story.
3) Please be mindful of younger group members and refrain from writing inappropriate stories.
4) Don't let anyone see your writing!
5) Once you're done, pass it to the person on your right.
6) Write a 1-2 sentence continuation of the story you receive.
7) Fold down the previous writer's sentences!
8) Repeat steps 3-5 for however many people are at the table.
9) Read the story outloud and enjoy the results of your writing!
10) Feel free to switch to other tables.

[For people who are stuck on writing their starter sentences, there are some lists at the table for your perusal, but otherwise, let your imagination run wild.]

Comments

[compendiem]

Patting the dirt off his hands, the man turns and walks away from the woods. "They will never find out," he says quietly under his breath as he returns to the car stalling at the side of the road in the dead of night.

[lesinset]

Returning to the main road took time; the back roads full of twists and turns, the valleys between the hills already filling with thin traces of mist. In a few hours the way would be lost, and he couldn't help the sigh of relief when he reached the sign marking the junction between this road and the highway.

[invocate]

The sun would rise soon, bringing with it a new day and new opportunities. As he turned into the highway, he reached over and flipped on the radio.

[compendiem]

It crackles to life, static wavering in and out as he adjusts the knob, but while the signal is weak, he's able to make out a few words: "...wiped out... popula... only two hundred remain, but the undead are now headed towards--" before the radio goes dead. A new day and new opportunities, he tells himself, and he will get through this one too.

[lesinset]

The sun rising would do nothing to some of the undead, though he had wished the legends were far more accurate. Daylight would give them a few more hours to restock and replenish, to rest and regroup, but he knew the others would already be moving on. He will catch up to them soon.

[invocate]

He glanced at the shotgun laying on the seat beside him and mentally tallied how much ammo he had left. Pressing down on the gas pedal a little harder, he tried to not think about how much he had used the night before.

[matchbreaker]

"Take one last look, my dear," the roguish man said in his more gentle of voices, "For you shall never see your homeland again." Indeed, the two were on the ramp to board a boat headed far away from whence they came.

[twostringsonebow]

She felt her knees tremble, not in fear but in anticipation, and looked upon the land she'd grown to love and hate in spades, the golden fields tended to by those in endless debt, the high walls of the city farther off where her restrictive role lay, how the clouds embraced the mountains surrounding the region, dangers beneath their beauty. "I won't miss it," soft in its uncertainty, but still she did not move.

[gunsandveggies]

"I won't miss it," she repeated to herself, willing the softness out of her voice, the words said to encourage herself more than anyone else. This land, though it shackled her to her throne, was her home; it nourished her and gave her hopes and dreams, even as its ugliness revealed itself to her.

[matchbreaker]

[ Oh this has already taken a turn. ]

That resolution, if only to herself, was all that she needed to will movement into her feet. Marching ahead of her escort, the young woman boldly made her way up the ramp and onto the ship. As to what await, she wasn't certain, but she knew that her old life had ended.

[blondferret]

In a New York hotel room, a man stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at himself as he tries to remember where are the blood on his hands came from. Then he realized, in addition to not remembering what happened the night before, he couldn't remember anything else, even his own name.

[complementing]

With a shudder, he washes his hands, scrubbing furiously, his hands feeling itchy and tainted no matter how many pumps of hand soap he uses. The man's thoughts are so scrambled that he doesn't hear the sound of the hotel door opening, nor the sound of light footsteps behind him.