The Neverending Story

ZenCat

ZenCat

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We're going to write a blockbuster novel, K? I'll write the first paragraph, next person writes the next.

Keep an eye out for continuity. I'm expecting those of us with impaired reflexes who get tangled up in the Enlightening Wrong Answer Game may want to make our paragraphs short :mpick:

Here goes.

The Neverending Story
by INFJ Forum

It was a dark and stormy night. Isn't it always? But this time it really was. She knew it was dark because she walked into the wall next to the window while attempting to gauge the violence of the storm. She knew it was stormy because her cat was on the ceiling.

Eventually, finding the actual window, and throwing open the sash, she leaned out into the driving rain and whipping winds, hair swirling like Medusa in a mad tangle of electrified and unbound majesty. The sky exploded into blue light above her. In the negatized afterimage on her retina, after a particularly spectacular and unduly alarming bolt of lightning, she realized a figure stood in the shadows on the far side of the old carriage barn.

Torn between countless unfolding scenarios cascading through her normally cautious mind, she made her decision. With uncharacteristic fearlessness, she...
 
The Neverending Story

by INFJ Forum

It was a dark and stormy night. Isn't it always? But this time it really was. She knew it was dark because she walked into the wall next to the window while attempting to gauge the violence of the storm. She knew it was stormy because her cat was on the ceiling.

Eventually, finding the actual window, and throwing open the sash, she leaned out into the driving rain and whipping winds, hair swirling like Medusa in a mad tangle of electrified and unbound majesty. The sky exploded into blue light above her. In the negatized afterimage on her retina, after a particularly spectacular and unduly alarming bolt of lightning, she realized a figure stood in the shadows on the far side of the old carriage barn.

Torn between countless unfolding scenarios cascading through her normally cautious mind, she made her decision. With uncharacteristic fearlessness, she grabbed the poker from the fireplace and went to the side door. A rolling trowel of thunder tunned through the turmulous skies shaking the house to the foundations. The thunder was followed by an immediate downpour of rain that hit her senses as she opened the door.

The figure was there, a sense of speed and then...

Two Days Later...

"Like, omigod brett, please tell me you didn't!"
"Yep, babe, this is going to be AWESOME!"
"You're an immature jerkoff brett, I don't care what the camp is called, I hate your horror movies, they're literally full of gore"
"But babe, it's Crystal Lake..."
...
 
... emerging from the brief coma into which she had fallen when an errant larch branch broke free in the melee and grazed her frontal lobe, she mused "WTF? Who's Brett???". Realizing quickly that it had NOT been two days but mere minutes, she redirected herself toward the task she had set herself.

Setting aside the dream for thorough analysis later, she rose to her feet, now drenched, fallen leaves adhering to her exposed flesh like so many postage stamps on an unmarked brown paper parcel, and continued toward the carriage barn. Undaunted, but with a persistent headache she reached the leading edge of the darkest shadows and...
 
Shai Gar said:
The Neverending Story

by INFJ Forum

It was a dark and stormy night. Isn't it always? But this time it really was. She knew it was dark because she walked into the wall next to the window while attempting to gauge the violence of the storm. She knew it was stormy because her cat was on the ceiling.

Eventually, finding the actual window, and throwing open the sash, she leaned out into the driving rain and whipping winds, hair swirling like Medusa in a mad tangle of electrified and unbound majesty. The sky exploded into blue light above her. In the negatized afterimage on her retina, after a particularly spectacular and unduly alarming bolt of lightning, she realized a figure stood in the shadows on the far side of the old carriage barn.

Torn between countless unfolding scenarios cascading through her normally cautious mind, she made her decision. With uncharacteristic fearlessness, she grabbed the poker from the fireplace and went to the side door. A rolling trowel of thunder tunned through the turmulous skies shaking the house to the foundations. The thunder was followed by an immediate downpour of rain that hit her senses as she opened the door.

The figure was there, a sense of speed and then...

Two Days Later...

"Like, omigod brett, please tell me you didn't!"
"Yep, babe, this is going to be AWESOME!"
"You're an immature jerkoff brett, I don't care what the camp is called, I hate your horror movies, they're literally full of gore"
"But babe, it's Crystal Lake..."
...
Click to expand...

OMFG, I was like :mlove: and then, slam, that last part. High School extravaganza! ! !
 
ZenCat said:
... emerging from the brief coma into which she had fallen when an errant larch branch broke free in the melee and grazed her frontal lobe, she mused "WTF? Who's Brett???". Realizing quickly that it had NOT been two days but mere minutes, she redirected herself toward the task she had set herself.

Setting aside the dream for thorough analysis later, she rose to her feet, now drenched, fallen leaves adhering to her exposed flesh like so many postage stamps on an unmarked brown paper parcel, and continued toward the carriage barn. Undaunted, but with a persistent headache she reached the leading edge of the darkest shadows and...
Click to expand...
But it turns out she actually WAS dead, and that little interlude was a psychic hallucination that debbie recieved. She opened her eyes to bright light, and the feeling of discomfort, Her beautiful protective boyfriend was kneeling over her.
"Don't get up debs, janice is running for the nurse, gotta make sure you're okay" This wonderful guy said. But what the hell was happening? She had to know "Why am I on the grass?" she asked. "You passed out" a strange voice sternly said. "Young lady, have you been taking any medication?"...
 
and then she realized she hadn't taken her medication and that she was multiple personalities... Debs, Janice, Brett, some nurse and a strange stern voice all rolled into one. But which one was boss?..... :meyes:
 
... if a little boy is killed by a four wheel drive, MAKE SURE YOU SEE A BODY BEFORE YOU BELIEVE HE'S REALLY DEAD!!!
 
that's it.

*takes ball, flips hair, goes home*
 
Good thing the NT's doesn't have access to the hidden only INFJ section.
 
m095.gif
 
NTs gtfo >8(
J/k, but I do think we should try to be serious, at least for a little while; I'd like to see how this turns out
 
Flamethrower said:
Charming!
Click to expand...

:whistle:

So, where were you guys? It seems to have broken off into two subplots...

Multiple personality chick recovering from fluke tree branch accident while her boyfriend starts coming on to the nurse, right? At the same time, a young child who is playing ball in the street and gets hurt by gas guzzling SUV, while his friend on the side of the road is crying and waiving down traffic with his little white hankie.
 
They broke my free-association with their mockery.

I'm broken.
 
ZenCat said:
... emerging from the brief coma into which she had fallen when an errant larch branch broke free in the melee and grazed her frontal lobe, she mused "WTF? Who's Brett???". Realizing quickly that it had NOT been two days but mere minutes, she redirected herself toward the task she had set herself.

Setting aside the dream for thorough analysis later, she rose to her feet, now drenched, fallen leaves adhering to her exposed flesh like so many postage stamps on an unmarked brown paper parcel, and continued toward the carriage barn. Undaunted, but with a persistent headache she reached the leading edge of the darkest shadows and...
Click to expand...


Stopped to listen. She was very jumpy, and, although she tried to convince herself that there was nothing to be afraid of, she couldn't help that her heart was being fueled by adrenaline.

The carriage barn was a towering building, silhouetted black against the deep indigo of the night sky. In the brief seconds its features were lit by the frequent flashes of lightning, the scars and irregularities from time and the elements came into focus. It groaned softly under the pressure of the storm; the wind was merciless on it old frame.

She approached it hesitantly; the lack of light and the other-wordly calls of the barn made her hair stand on end. She didn't know where the figure she had seen was; in fact, she wasn't even sure if she had actually seen someone. However, her mind was playing tricks on her, and she knew that if she was not shivering out in the storm, she'd be trembling back in the house. She was alone, now, and if she would not be able to prove to herself that there was nothing to be afraid of, then she was nearly powerless.

So, treading softly, she grabbed a fallen branch from the ground and began to slowly circle back to where she thought she saw the figure...
 
The rain had stopped. What had been crashes of lightning had subdued to a flickering; and then to unmitigated black. The wind had died to a soft, gusty murmur, and then hushed itself with a final sigh.

The clouds parted above her, and the sliver of a crescent moon shone down upon her, through the skeletal branches above. Yet there was another flicker. And another.

Without the storm launching it's impersonal, ferocious assault, she was able to see that this continued flickering was not the blue glare of lightning at all. It was coming from behind the western wall of the carriage barn.

There was no sound.

She hefted the branch a few times in her hand, taking a more secure grip and turned the corner.

Before her lay a bizarre tableau, a vision she was hard-pressed to make sense of. Throbbing now violet, now green, a gash of seemingly liquid disruption floated in the air of the only world she knew.

It was not a door, or a portal, but something like a tear. With strands and strings of her own reality undulating along the ragged edges, as though moved by the current created by the light that emanated from the other side.

She stepped closer, and kneeled, to better see through the gash to the other side.

It was day, there. And the landscape bore no resemblance to the one she stood in now, a mere six feet away. She...
 
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