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M.B.O.O.T.T.O.Y.H.W.T

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Mind Blowing Off Of The Top Of Your Head Writing Thread!

In this thread, you will write whatever story comes to the top of your thread. Any old stories work too, just please keep them under 1000 words. This thread will be a good place for all writers to post in, instead of having 10 failing threads open at once. I will be sure to update it with some cool “group” stuff later, but for now just write without any complications :D

So, without further ado here is a poem that is fresh from the head! Pretty terrible seeing as they are ten minutes or less of thought, and no revising. Just raw, mean, greasy violent poetry.

Ghostly Casper
Frail and thin
Ghostly casper
With a high held chin
Dully smiles
Poker Face
Hides the truth
Of his death
Smelled liquor
On daddy’s breath
Got in the car anyway
Now Casper walks
In a ghostly way

Plump red face
Entangling lime shoots
Body of a man
Face of a fruit
Unmatched Swagger
And a great name,
A perfect man
Lest he be tamed

The thread
Has just taken flight
Now, my disciples
Post some art
Fill my tender areas
With delight <3

 
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Shiver and shake
the cold air away
as daylight breaks
and I start a new day
I feel something new
I stare out the window
at the morning fresh dew
and notice a doe
on my neighbors green lawn
as it nibbles and chews
next to its fawn
I simply refuse
to believe you are gone

 
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Once life of our world had went extinct, caused by the sun’s implosion, the blast hitting earth mere seconds after it’s light had died, 3 minutes was all the world had before being destroyed, after the sun’s light had itself gone extinct. The great momentum powered by the sun’s destruction sent the planet far from it’s orbit, into a coursefor a far away galaxy, of which no mass could sustain life. With the sun’s destruction, also came the destruction of the earth’s dark, and now secret past; a wasteland of fallen nations.

The planet once part of the great milky way had become ripped form it’s original orbit to speed through the space between galaxies; Two stars, part of a small galaxy, formed the interstellar coalition that was to be named “Criterion 2”, were the last stars on the earth’s passage, their gravity bringing the earth closer to them, and into their living zone. As the planet settled the temperature becoming stable once more, the crust of ice which had formed as the planet had left it’s warm climate, began to melt, letting the bacterium contained in itself also come back, to form the new life of this old planet.

Milions of years had passed since the new birth of the planet, and two groups had prevailed; The Altered, and the Minori. Both resembled their ancestors greatly, retaining their humanoid looks. However one thing had come to this new world, the presence of a new dimension, of which reaches had not extended to the milky way. This new dimension allowed for special skills to be developed; Those of whom had natural abilities in such domains, were exiled. Congregating they formed Miniaroti, their new home land, accepting all who would set out to join their ranks.

Since the dawn of the great transgression, the Altered had been preparing for a great war against the Minori, their brethren of ancestry, yet their feared nemesis. The Altered wished for supremecy, wished of power and glory; The one thing they could never attain if fear were to taint their heart ’til the ends of time. Every man whom had been readied for the great battle were to come together at the gates of Miniaroti, to vanquish, or to be vanquished, but all would fight ’til the dusk of their mortal souls.

To the altered’s despair, the leader of the Minori army, held great power; Upon simple thought objects could leave the physical plane yet retain thought and senses of this world. As the Alteroid army held fast i the dawning light, their guards dropped as the enemy were no where to be seen; The guard had been set however so low was ther sense of urgency that those who were to sound the alarm also slept fast.

Trouble bloomed over the Altered’s head, however unbeknownst to those poor souls; The Minori had infiltrated their camp, still not a pat ofthe physical plane no physical barrier could hold them still, traveling as spirits they surounded the enemy. Their numbers were quite low compared to those of the Altered, however the battle would not last long.

As the first to be attacked awoke from their stupor, the pain caught in their mind. Screams of agony resounded all around, awaking the other men of the armed forces. However the more men who awoke, the larger the number of Minori who came back in the fray, leaving the spiritual plane to regain physical consciousness. The great flurry of blades, the falling of a hundred corpses, the silent hum of blooming death, all came as one in this moment of war.

Struggled as they may the Altered had been caught; Their numbers dwindling in the pale light of dawn, no Minori had been vanquished in this night…

The battle had been faught; The Altered had not the option of fleeing, until to heaven their soul fled.

 
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“Hey kid!”

Josh looked around.

“Yeah you! Come here!”

Josh walked over to the man. He was wearing a gray sock hat, dressed in a ragged old shirt with an old leather jacket over it, wearing jeans and a pair of black, old, used shoes; a typical New Yorker.

“Wanna make an extra buck?”

Josh was hesitant. His father warned him of trouble in the City before he had walked out on them. But Josh was desperate, as his family needed the money.

Josh said with a stutter, “Wh — What do you mean?”

“Hear. Take this package the 31’st Street. I’ll meet you there and take it off your hands. Aight?”

“How much do I get paid?”

“How much do you get paid?!” The man said with a chuckle “You get paid enough! Alright? Now go!”

On his way there, Josh was puzzled. Why would a man ask him to bring some package some place, and then meet him there? Wouldn’t it just have been easier for him to take there himself? Anxiety started to hit Josh. “What could be in here?” He thought to himself. It was too late to turn back, so Josh ignored it and continued.

CONTINUE WITH THE STORY BELOW.

 
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Eventually, the curiosity overwhelmed Josh. After a quick glance behind him to make sure the man in the gray stocking cap wasn’t following him, he ducked into a laundromat and found a spot in the back where he could keep an eye on the front door.

Carefully, Josh picked at the tape on the package until he had the paper wrapper nearly off. The last bit was stubborn and the paper ripped in one place but Josh figured it would be easy enough to wrap it back up if he needed to.

Inside was a shoebox. He lifted the lid and found a foam tray with four slots cut into it. In each slot was a dark gray metal bar. Josh lifted one out. It was warm… almost hot… and had a set of tiny numbers stamped down the side. The metal bar tickled his fingers like it was vibrating at a high frequency.

 
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The bars made a slight humming sound, almost like whispers, like it was trying to say something. The Laundromat’s door opened, and Josh made a dive underneath a paint-chipped table. Scared, he crammed the bars back in, too quickly. Two of the bars touched, and the humming became louder…

 
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Bump. (Want to hear the rest of this story…)

 
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One time, I didn’t give a fuck. Not a SINGLE fuck. Not even the slightest, tiniest fuck. Everyone knew, not a fuck was given that day. So one time, I gave a fuck. Then everything…
Changed. I gave all the fucks, and I felt all the feels. I gave fucks the rest of my life, and I lived happily ever after. :)

 
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Originally posted by Rigariga:

One time, I didn’t give a fuck. Not a SINGLE fuck. Not even the slightest, tiniest fuck. Everyone knew, not a fuck was given that day. So one time, I gave a fuck. Then everything…
Changed. I gave all the fucks, and I felt all the feels. I gave fucks the rest of my life, and I lived happily ever after. :)

THIS IS THE STORY OF A DAY WHERE THERE WAS ALL THIS BLOOD. A MAN WAS WALKING AROUND AND BLOOD STARTED COMING OUT OF HIM EVERYWHERE. THERE WAS SO MUCH BLOOD THAT IT FILLED UP AN ELEVATOR. HE WENT TO THE STORE AND THERE WAS JUST BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE! PEOPLE WERE SLIPPING IN IT AND THEY WERE ALL GROSSED OUT. HE TRIED TO GO SWIMMING AND ALL OF THE SHARKS WENT NUTS AND BITTENED EVERYBODY. HE GOT CHASED BY ALL THE VAMPIRES EVER. ONE TIME THE BLOOD GOT A KID AND A DOG. AT THE END OF THE DAY EVERYONE DECIDED THEY WOULD SEND HIM TO SPACE SO THAT HE WOULD STOP GETTING BLOOD EVERY WHERE. THE SCARIEST PART IS THAT THE MAN WAS YOU!!! (OR HE WAS A LADY IF YOU ARE A LADY) AND YOU FORGOT THAT THIS HAPPENED.

 
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A small pellet of steel, about the size of a BB, rose from the point where the two bars touched. The humming was increasing… getting painful.

Suddenly, with a tiny pop, the floating BB shot through the window of the laundromat and across the street. Right through a man that happened to be passing by. He began bleeding from the wound where the BB entered his chest. Profusely. He kept walking mildly. The blood was pouring out of a tiny wound in his chest like a hole in a water balloon. He glanced down at the thin stream of blood. He began casually convulsing like he was going to retch… then, with a gag, he vomited a half gallon of blood. And again, and more this time, until it was an impossible geiser of blood spewing from his open maw. His eyes blew from their sockets like corks and two perfect columns of blood arched out from where they had been. From his ass, a thick column of blood blew a hole in his pants then sprayed like a fire hose onto the sidewalk.

Throughout this whole experience, the man did not appear to give the slightest fuck.

 
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Once, there was an E.T. Named Popinjay
Who didn’t like rules; he did things his way
So he built a shuttle and went into space
He didn’t care if things he met ran from his face

But when he landed in a field of green
He opened his hatch and here’s what he had seen
A wondrous ruin of magnificent design
Built without regard for the straight and true line
He wandered on out and was not bored out of his head
There goes any hope for deleting this thread

 
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Heres a haiku poem:

I like haiku poems.
But sometimes they don’t make sense.
Refrigerator…

 
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Sometimes, weird things happen. this isn’t new, considering where I live. Practically everyone in Rushten’s seen it happen, so when something’s off, they don’t even blink. But every so often, something happens that’s so weird that nobody can ignore it. Among these is the Cheese Wheel Scare of 2007 and the Paleozoican Virus. This is our story.

RUSHTEN

By Rann13

 
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ODE TO THE DEHUMIDIFIER

Humming softly all day long
The bland rhythm of an unwritten song
Mr Humidifier keeps me dry
I’m so grateful, I want to cry.

THE END!

Share if you agree.

 
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Chapter 1:

As I was walking down the street this morning, I swear I saw a Dinosaur run by. It was exactly 8:38 AM. I was the only person who stopped and rubbed their eyes at the sight.

Oh, I’m sorry! I haven’t introduced myself, eh? I’m Randolph, and this is my home. plop yourself on the sofa; I’ll get you some victuals. (brief mumbling in kitchen…) Ah! here we are! Grilled shrimp! Hope you like it! (continued soon)

 
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The maniac crouched low, goggles obscuring his eyes. His grin was needle-sharp, and his hands were gentle and savage. The Other skittered into range, and the maniac pounced, grabbing and pulling at the Other. It wrenched him off with the strength of a fallen angel, and began to choke him. The maniac only smiled wider, and then purple tendrils snaked out and whipped at the Other’s face. It howled and swatted them off. The maniac continued his attack, fat purple spikes protruding from the concrete below their feet and skewering one of the Other’s legs. The Other yanked its injured leg out, and then a field of purple enveloped him and blinded him. It howled once more, then the purple field tightened and its bones-or what passed for bones-were turned to dust, and its blood boiled and surged, and its body was flipped into the night sky like a rag doll.

The maniac paused, adjusted its goggles, dusted itself off and continued on its merry, merry way.

 
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once there was a man. a man of discipline, a man of looks. his name was bob, yes bob. he lived a simple life. but simple was the last thing his future had in mind oh yes, his future. oh if only he had know what was coming.

bob continued on regardless of the signs. so oblivious he was. as he took his first step on to the road the timer started ticking down to the last second. he was half way there…he might just make I- “SPLAT” blood flung itself across the intersection…

ALWAYS be aware of your surroundings.

not bad I just made it up as it went along If you didn’t get it he was crossing the road but didnt read the signs

 
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I can not write,
I shouldn’t even try.
I can not write,
So instead i am eating pie.

 
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I lost my shoes.

They are forever gone!

Wait, here they are.

Is this a haiku?

No, it’s not so…

Is it a poem?

With a pattern, yes!

Doesn’t it rhyme? No?

No! It does not.

But it does continue.

There seems to be…

…no pattern! What’s it?

It’s very easy, now!

Just think about it!

I am, I am!

One sentence, four words!

Now I get it!

 
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Ode to Sosker

POTATO POTATO POTATO POTATO POTATO POTATO pOTATO POTATO POTATO POTATO POTATO POTAT

 
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NOTE: so sorry about that! i was making a rather good joke, too. Anyways, let’s continue.

 
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One time, when the earth was flat, and kings ruled over everyone with absolute Tyranny (and so did God), one man challenged authority. His name was George Carlin. He was a modest man who lived and worked on a farm his whole life. Until one day, he never questioned his superiors. He willingly submitted to all of their orders. But he got annoyed by doing this. He decided that he would do something about it on this day. The ruling noble asked him to harvest 15 potatoes or else he would be killed. Instead of harvesting 15 potatoes, he only harvested 8 potatoes. But! He put 7 rocks painted to look like potatoes in the potato basket. The noble did not notice anything off when he inspected the potatoes.

The next day, the noble came up to George. He said, “10538! What did you do to these potatoes!?” George replied, “Sergeant Drebin, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Subject 10538 was obviously trying to play dumb. Sergeant Drebin wouldn’t have any of it. He remembered very clearly that the king told him to kill anyone who replaced potatoes with rocks. Or played dumb. Or was homosexual. But Drebin went easy on 10538. He let him off the hook. Literally. In that society, criminals were hung up on hooks by the backs of their shirts. They were hung off of large cliffs, so that if they fell out, they would die. They couldn’t escape either, because they were hung out far from the cliff. Drebin said, “um, just don’t do it again.” 10538 was relieved.

10538 was released. He had been held in captivity for the previous four years. The last thing that happened before he was sentenced was a meeting with the noble, Sergeant Drebin. After the meeting, the king put him on the hook, and his shirt ripped off. He crimed about his punishment until he had to go to the bathroom.

 
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Here’s what came out of an introduction-writing practice-session I was taking part in. Not something I’m really proud of, but whatever.


Rainforests in Arlir don’t really make for good adventuring areas.

It’s common for every rainforest there to have, among other things: Mosquitoes and leeches feeding off your blood; Tropical birds pecking on your skin; Rabid gorillas chasing after you, and so on and so forth. If an adventurer doesn’t get goosebumps from encountering all of these incidents, they’d be glad to know that furry carnivores are constantly on the prowl for the zesty flesh of anything in their sights. A bit of preparation and common sense unfortunately makes a battle with them quite anticlimactic, though, leading to an entire week in the jungle to sound nicer than a beachside hotel. Really, the only thing making adventurers soil their trousers is the thought of plucking out endless grains of lovegrass post-journey, but the influx of innovative inventions have made even that a non-issue.

One forest in this continent, however, doesn’t even have any demonic lovegrass latching onto you. Said forest has neither ape nor cat keeping tracking of your every move. No parrots, no leeches; Not much rain, even. By taking all of this into consideration, one might wonder why the forest of Lunaril was more popular and much better at scarring people for life than all the other Arliric forests combined. It’s quite simple, actually: What this forest in Satimin lacks in quantity, it makes up for in quality.

And by the grace of God, there are very few events more qualified to terrify people than coming face-to-face with a fairy.


Only two hard facts have ever been confirmed regarding the fairies of Lunaril. The first one is that they’re literally everywhere in the forest. The second fact is that they’re impossible to do research on, no thanks to their camera-shy demeanor and their rather common tendency to kill anything bothering them in the slightest. The few images that the world actually get of these creatures show some menacing stuff, including seedy rituals, morbid cannibalism and bad dancing. Tribespeople dwelling in Lunaril itself tried making their own studies, but as one man remarked after their hunt was called off: “Once you anger a fairy, you become a lost cause. The whole clan thinks we’ve had enough lost causes for the year.”

That’s not to say this place is a woodland of carnage and horror. Bring along a few friends at the very least and the Lunaril experience changes from snuff movie reproduction to an infinitely pleasant holiday in a lush, diverse forest. The tribespeople’s explanation is that the fairies would run about in the shadows, duly pampering an avid camper as they try to fulfil whatever whim they voice out. The only condition is that said camper does not attempt to go out of their way to get the fairies’ attention. Do so, and they’ll suffer far more pain than the protagonist of a soap opera.

Most adventurers don’t really care about that part, though, focusing instead on the seek-out-and-fight-monsters aspect of Lunaril. It’s not just the adventurers that are in on this act: Waves of barely mature thrill-seekers enter the forest on the lookout for mysterious activity and close shaves with death. Suffice to say, Lunaril is a thousand hectares worth of undiscovered secrets, and the fairies’ mysterious, reclusive aura is a magnet among the bold and the boisterous. The guards patrolling Lunaril’s outskirts claim zero responsibility for anyone lost in the forest (As one guard justified: “We’ve tried warning them off a million times, but our throats got sore and we gave up.”)

Among these heedless daredevils is one Salma Akela, whose sleeping in public with a noose around her neck guaranteed her a massive reputation all around the campuses of Satimin.

 
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“As I stand of the deck of the ship,
Gazing upon a vast open sea,
The sun shining on
The glimmering surface of the sea
And my flushed face,
I try to recall that moment past
With no fruition.
Only the East winds
Can bring back my memories,
Our memories.”

 
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The world is Cruel and its weight crushes us, and we welcome it.

The wolfs are always lurking behind and waiting for their time, so we challenge them. Their eyes still, watching our every move, stinging our skins with questions. So we answer them

and once again we are alone
I know my voyage is long and dangerous, yet I set sail
My vessel is small and fragile, Yet I ignore its boundaries
~We welcome the cruelty of the world, for it teaches us how to understand and its weight gives us our strength
We challenge the wolfs, Proving to our self we are greater then mere beast
We answer, knowing their game and proving to our self we are not afraid.
I set sail knowing my time is short and shall not waist it waiting on a passenger to be found
I Ignore its boundaries, even when fragile it is strong and even when alone. It will float on, unable to be sunk, and unstoppable.