Story Time With...

[Zow]

LETS PLAY A GAME! 

So the rules are simple:

- I give you a story, and you guys try and finish it!

- Nothing NSFW please

-You can't finish a story without two or more people adding to it!

If the story is good enough, I'll draw artwork for it!

The Storm...

by Zow

The rain was pouring, and the thunder in the sky was exploding within the clouds, erupting lighting bolts down onto the earth, crumbling and igniting anything in it's path. The storm was a force of nature not to be reckoned with. In the distance not too far from the approaching darkness, a small village being lit by the bright summer daylight, illuminating and shining bright. The village was vibrant in color and the villagers were fluffy and adoreable, small in stature, but skeptical and happy to be where they lived. "It's always sunny in Micetta!" They'd exclaim out loud while looking at the sun. There was one odd villager though, he didn't look like the rest of the villagers, and by far he certainly didn't live near them because of it! This villager lived at the tippity top of the mountain next to Micetta. At the top of the mountain, one could see the entire village of Micetta, and what a beautiful sight it was! The lone villager was...

It's up to the rest of you to finish the story! I can't wait to see how this story turns out! 

[TripleR]

The lone villager was always jealous of those who lived in Micetta, for years and years he had just wished he could be one of them. Walking the streets there he just wished to be fluffy like they were, happy like they were, he wanted to bask in the sun with them, but he just never fit in. After years and years of feeling left out of all the fun times, and all the praising of the sun, he decided he would move to the mountains. The time alone on the mountain made torrents of hatred swell up deep within him and slowly but surely, he began to plot against the people of Micetta. Passing them in markets, seeing them playing outside there houses, he thought long and hard of how to spoil their wonderful village. Then one day, durring a large gathering... inspiration struck him...

[Lemon]

Inspiration struck him! It was not the village that needed changing, but his outlook on life!  He looked around at the children playing outside and saw now that they did not look at him funny like had previously though, but with a curiosity born of wonder.  Walking down to the lake, the villager looked upon himself, and tried to see what everyone else saw.  But to no avail! All he could think about was how ugly his fur looked.  He started to return to his mountain home absently kicking a rock, lost in thought.  He was so wrapped up in his own misery that he almost walked past the body lying on the side of the road.  It was that of one of the children of the village, who, it appeared from the trail of blood, had fallen from the cliff and dragged themselves to the road in the hope that help would come by.  The child's legs were bent at odd angles and caked in blood.
Reaching down, the villager collected the body to carry to a more suitable place to bury, one that was less rocky.  The villager almost dropped the child when it let out a moan of pain, and shifted in his hands.  Realizing the urgency of the situation, the villager debated carrying the child through the harsh terrain to his house, or the further journey downhill to the village.  Turning to face the mountain, the villager carried the young child toward his summit cabin.

[Zow]

Once he had arrived, he immediately began to treat the child's broken legs and appendages. He treated them with several herbs and home-made ointments. By the time he had finally treated all of the poor cripple, it was dusk. In the distance a faint rumble from something lurking towards the village. He let the child lay and rest in his bed. The child looked peacful, his ailments relieved and his face looked relaxed too. He slept like an angel, the lone villager thought. He felt warmth in his heart knowing that his new guest is safe and sound asleep. The lone villager yawns, closes the blinds on the windows of his cabin, and laid on the floor, falling fast asleep.

Day had risen once more, the sun bright as ever, glaring down its heat onto the village as usual. The Lone Villager had awoken and checked on the child, he was no longer cold to the touch and his fever from all of his prior blood loss had gone down. After that, The Lone Villager looked out the window  to see something astonishing. The usual Clear sky to the left, and a giant black front of clouds to the right. He looked down at the village he once resented and then at the storm again. He looked down at the ground, and clenched his hand on his chest. His heart was pounding, and his mind was in panic. The village would never know about storm. Nor would they every survive a storm of this magnitude! It would wipe out the entire village, except for his cabin. The Lone Villager was the only one who could save the people who took him for a mistake of nature. The people who had judged him so poorly, and ostracized him from society to live alone in the Mountains, far away from the village. He had a choice to make.
 

Hehehe, lets see what you guys decide! 

[Zow]

It's time to make a new story. 

 

        Not knowing ~By Zow

Chapter 1, Suspicions

I used to ask my father, "Dad? How do you get through your day with a smile all the time?" Father used to answer, "I keep my head up, and I keep remembering that things will always be better, even if it's a small amount Ralphy" My name is Ralphy, and about his smile, I always knew he was lying through his face. There was something about his smile that was off. A crooked, corrupt, jagged edged sword of a smile, as sharp as a stalagmite with a curved point. It wasn't a true smile, I'd always thought. I would ask him that same question every passing day, eagerly waiting for the answer that I was looking for. Yet, he'd never tell me what I wanted to hear. Until, one day he answered "Some things, are best forgotten, and thrown away." Then he asked, "Why do you keep asking me that question son? Don't you believe what I told you hundreds of times before?" I know Mom would tell me not to ask either, and soon that same wicked smile appeared on her face too. I hated it. I just knew they were hiding something.  Something malevolent, and mischievous lurking about my home.  It's up to me to find out what it is. That's what I used to think I had to do in order to set things right. I'm sorry I ever did. I miss mom and dad.

 

At night time, I would look around the mansion, searching for clues to lead me in the right direction...

Your turn guys!

 

[McLaughlin86]

It typically yielded no results. I'd even go to the places my parents told me to keep out of. Their bedroom, the basement and rooms in between. I'd seen it all: the long hallway with 4 doors on each side and a chandelier hanging on the ceiling between them, underneath my parents gigantic bed that was covered in velvet purple blankets and pillows, the basement where cold hard tiles always made my feet uncomfortable. I did it so many time's that I lost count. I'd write in my notebook about any suspicions/clues I had around the mansion to see if things would eventually add up or if something would just hit me. The more time I spent searching, the more I felt like I was going mad. I felt like I was searching for something that wasn't there. Regardless of that fact, I felt so dedicated to my desire to be right. The madness and frustration eventually shaped in to some strange feeling of passion. A passion to set things straight about my parents and this home. The passion turned to some sort happiness. It was the kind that makes someone crave more of what's causing it, whether that craving is morally correct or not. Yet another night arrived and I continued to do what I desired to do. I went over my notebook before venturing around the mansion again. There was something I noticed that was rather strange and it peaked my interest. In the basement, there was an excessively large coat rack that stood about 7 feet tall. From top to around the middle of the rack there were hooks to put coats on. Something I'd noticed just at that moment was that the coats were never touched and never moved their positions ever. Our basement was mostly used for storage. My father always told me not to touch anything down there and as a kid, I would listen because I wanted to stay out of trouble. However, as often as he went down there I found it strange that this coat hanger never shifted positions while several boxes down there did. At the time, I kept asking myself if there was something inside the coats or maybe something behind the coat hanger. I tossed my notebook to the side as if I knew it all and no longer needed it. I immediately headed straight to the basement ready to see the most important thing in my life. I felt myself crack a smile during the walk. A smile that felt all too familiar, for it was the same one my parents would wear.

Edited December 6, 2016 by McLaughlin86

[Lemon]

I pulled the coats down one at a time, slowly, savoring what I believed to be a grand discovery.  When the last coat had been pulled down, I stared in disappointment at the wall behind.  I had been so sure that they had hidden a secret passageway, or another room, or some such.  I sat down hard, trying not to despair upon something solid that had been hidden within one of the coats.

It was an old looking trench coat, dark gray with silver bands on the shoulders.  Somehow, even upon the dusty floor, after ages of hanging upon the coat rack, it still looked crisp lying there in a heap.  Reaching inside, I withdrew a small book.  It was hand bound, with a soft leather cover that cracked in my hand from old age.  Curious, I opened it to the first page and read the title, written in the bold hand that I immediately knew was my father's.

The Enchantment of Humanity
or
Uses of Humans in the Field of the Study of the Arcane
with special note on the study of
Progressional Enhancements and Psychological Constructs

Edited December 7, 2016 by Lemon