The Great Steemit Story: A Writer's Bounty

I invite you to join me as a co-author to the greatest story ever told, and in doing so, earn an equal share of the total SBD payouts for the project. 

So how does it work?  - Well, much like the game consequence really. In consequence, somebody starts off by writing the first section, which in this case will be me. The story will then be continued by YOU! 

Aims Of This Project:

• This project gives new members, who might otherwise be struggling for content ideas and subsequently rewards, a chance to get involved, contribute, earn and invest and provides an interesting medium for writers to collaborate their creativity.
• Everybody involved is helping to write the story; the co-authors and the curators equally. Really, it's an analogy for the entire steemit eco-system. Steemit is full of amazing writers; you couldn't have a more perfect environment for a project like this to develop into something special.
• The Story of Steemit: A Writer’s Bounty, on completion, could even be sold on Amazon, as the first against the clock, community written novel - a first of its kind, thus further promoting this amazing platform to a massive audience of keen readers!
• There is a real chance of decent SBD rewards for all successful contributors (co-authors and curators of passages), if this project gains traction and has a high enough level of engagement as a result.
• Who decides what kind of story will be told? You do! - It could turn out to be a comedy, or just as easily a horror story. I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes.

Rules:

• I start the story off. The following passages, and the unfolding of the story from then on, is then down to you.
• You submit your passage in the comments section below, using the same format as I have started the story with below: putting in brackets your username and passage number at the end of your submission. For example......."there were words too, bleeding through from the other side of the paper". (yogi.artist 1) - This will make it easier for me to keep track of things in the long run as the story grows. I'll publish the final story with usernames and passage numbers omitted.
• The successful passages will be those that are the most upvoted by the community, so in this respect, curators have just as much of a say in the direction of the narrative as the authors. 
• Authors can only contribute 1 successful submission to the story, so as to give everybody a chance to get involved. If your submission for a particular passage was not upvoted and successfully included in the story then you can make as many submissions for any further passages you want, until you are successful.
• This in an against the clock story (no further editing after payout) The story could be over in 24 hours (min payout time) or could rollover up to 2 weeks (max payout time) The length of the story and subsequent SBD payout, is of course in direct relation to how long payout rolls over for, the proportionate reward for each co-author relative to the time factor and engagement level, therein. 
• All authors, including me, as I wrote the 1st passage, will receive an equal share of all SBD payout bounty, paid out by me, from my steemit wallet, directly to each successful co-author; each receiving the same SBD amount, all verifiable via the blockchain.
• The comments section could potentially get very populated, so please only comment with your passage submission and your username and corresponding passage number in brackets at the end, as described above. 
• Passages should be no longer than 8 lines long.
• As shared editing access to live blogs is not possible on steemit yet, It will be only me that is able to check in on the story and update it accordingly. I will aim to check in as regularly as I possibly can do, at least every hour, to add the successful, upvoted passages to the unfolding story, but please bear in mind that I also need to sleep like everybody else, and I’m a freelance yoga instructor, who has lessons, here and there, to attend to. I will however, be monitoring this in all of my free time, which will still be considerable enough to ensure that this story is a masterpiece! Bear in mind that you will also need to keep checking back in every so often, to see how your passage submission is doing; whether it has been upvoted or even added. If you missed out snagging the latest passage, then submit another idea for the next passage. 

Ok, So, Let's Begin!

The Great Steemit Story: A Writer's bounty

It was barely day-break when Metiste awoke. An unnerving crunch of fresh snow underfoot, faded into the same silence that her sound sleep had been kept safe within. She sat upright, alert in a desperate moment’s reckoning. Did she really hear something this time? The only answers were more questions. Gathering her senses, Metiste immediately took account of the room around her; the windows; still closed, the tea light; still burning and flickering dabbled shadows across the wall that lead her eyes towards the door, which was now ajar; a note tucked underneath. Anxiously she reached down and saw a sign scribbled on it; a blue circle with a white arrow inside. There were words too, bleeding through from the other side of the paper. (yogi.artist 1)

She focused on the symbol that seemed to call out to her memories. That blue and white logo was very familiar, she had seen it once upon a time in her Grandmothers diary. But, how could that be? Everyone who had ever laid eyes on that old diary was dead. Metiste's entire family had been burned alive 3 years ago, along with that old book. Shaking her head, Metiste carefully unfolded the strangely delicate piece of old parchment. The faded ink on the inside bore a familiar tone. "Let patience and perseverance finish it's work, so that you may grow mature and lack nothing", it read. (brianblackman 2)

"Dear girl, I know that if you read this, I am dead. Burned, if my predictions are correct. I'm sorry for that. Death, rarely accepts a bargain for more time, and oh, so much time was needed to prepare you. Still, this old woman had a few powerful tricks down her sleeve and used them all to be...here. Before we continue, please lock that door and make a fire, I'm cold." As she read the sentence the door snapped and a gush of wind swirled around her. She shuddered and kept her eyes fixated on the page. WHAT was going on? An ink dot was blinking restlessly and as she stared at it it began birthing letters: "DOOR!!". She jumped. (razvanelulmarin 3)

Would she never be free of the old hag? All her talk of destiny, all her abuse that she claimed was "preparing her." Metiste thought that it would all be burned away when she spread the lamp oil and dropped the torch, but the crone had found a way to invade her life once again. (nenad-ristic 4)

She raced over to the fire and prodded some life into the embers. Once the flames started to lick a little higher she held the note before her. The ink had started to ooze from it, brimming with malign intent. "Cold are we?" Metiste hissed, thrusting the note into the flames. She flinched as it ignited, I cannot stay here she thought. She stepped to her dresser and gathered the small number of things she had taken when escaping the old womans's clutches that last time. She had to move on again, before they found her. Already the air around her was growing heavy and the chill she felt seeping into her flesh was not just the snow outside. The shadows flickering on the wall had started to jerk and shudder and seemed to strain outward, reaching for her, she whimpered and ran for the door (meesterboom 5)

How could this be? The snow outside was not that heavy the last time she gazed out the window. She was trapped inside, the door was blocked as the house seemed to have submerged in the crisp, white snow. No, it was not the snow; how much time had she spent lost in those memories? (malute 6)

"Someday, you will do things for me that you fear. This is what it means to be family," echoed Granny's voice. "This is love, isn't it?" Meriste thought. "When you notice someone's absence and hate that absence more than anything? More, even, than you love his presence?" She awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person. The thick snow of memories outside reminded her of that battle. She felt her heart descend from her chest into her stomach. She was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for her, and by the desire to be alone. "I am not sad," she wept. She felt drowning, flailing. The white cold and its deafening silence made her realise that her life was an urgent, desperate struggle to justify her life. (maliciarogue 7)