So…is anyone who played from bad to worse (or didn’t) http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?threadid=78541 up for some writing? Not a lot of writing, usually a paragraph or two at the very most per post. I would love some new writers on my story board because…I like reading people’s additions to stories, and the more posters, the more posts(I hope, I hope, I hope) At least in theory. Of course feel free to create a story if you don’t want to add to one.
General fiction- where you shall find a broad range of stories from romances, to stalking Fabio or maybe you like the horror stories better?
Fan fiction- You know, stories based on existing characters from tv, movies and books. This site could use lots of posters. Oddly, no one has started a BtVS story yet.
Failed stories- or, at the moment, failed catogory. The idea is to post a paragraph or whatever of a story you started but quickly abandoned. No one’s touched this section but me
Well, no one can accuse me of not trying to generate interest in the boards… http://pub45.ezboard.com/binteractivestories18786
It was a dark and stormy night, during the best of times and the worst of times. I was certain that the raven could hear the frightened hammering of my tell-tale heart, and in the dark pit of my despair I watched the pendulum swing to and fro, until I could stand it no more, whereupon I ripped back the shower curtain, and to my horror, my worst fears were confirmed; there stood my Annabelle Lee, feeding the birds, and distantly from Baskerville I could hear the hounds, baying and baying and baying…and Mrs. Faversham cackled eerily in her rooms…
I called out to Annabelle, and she turned toward me, revealling a grotesque visage. “You are mine now,” she wailed. And then I woke up in my hotel room to the stagnant smell of decaying flesh. I needed a shower.
Quickly, I called Dana on my cell phone. “Scully,” I murmured, “how soon can you be in Durham, North Carolina? I believe the town is being haunted by the ghosts of Charles Dickens and Edgar Allen Poe.”
“Mullll-derrrr…” she whined, “I just got done doing an autopsy of that half-man, half-potato, who, by the way, died from what appears to be beetle bites, and now you want me to fly all the way to North Carolina to chase after the spirits of famous authors? Where are you going with this, Ahab?”