I start a story and you continue in the comments where the last person left off. I provide a setting, characters and the start of a plot. Together we create a story that would ordinarily be unimaginable.
NUMBER your posts to keep these more organized for compiling.
CRACK - A coconut splits open and the milk gets drained out by a villager. CRACK - Another. I watch the methodical, monotonous action of the man, it makes me wonder what he is doing, but more than that, can he hear me, see me.
I slowly circle him, i time my footsteps with the tempo of his action - every CRACK masks the sound of my footsteps on the forest floor. I'm hungry and this is my prey, i inch closer and closer.
About to roar ferociously, about to pounce on my prey, a little village boy strarts yelling, "Tiger! tiger!" The peoples, they flee and those cowards left the boy who dashes for the blade that made the coconuts CRACK.
...
Continue the story in the comments!
... what happens after the tiger??
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I must not stop now. Most of the village strong men are far away. This two will fear me. Let me make my kill while i have the chance.
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But I pause, because an unusual scent wafts on the cool breeze, rustling my inner ear hairs and tickling my clammy nose....
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#3
Wizzzzzz....Thwump!
A pain stick plants into the tree just above my ear.
In one leap I am in the jungle thicket. Another leap and I am 10 meters away. But suddenly the hunger snatches at my legs and I am frozen.
From a distance I hear the wimpering of a boy.....the boy. So sweet and delicious. My hunger overrides my flight instinct and I slowly turn toward the delectable sound....
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4. This boy is a strange boy...this one looks so different, light skinned, light knot-tangled hair and emerald green eyes. I am old...I must eat, this boy is mine
She reared back on her haunches, weakened muscles coiled, ready to leap for the tender throat of this ghost like figure of a boy who just stood staring into her eyes...arms at his side, bloodied blade tip touching the ground.
She stood from her crouch...I smell fresh kill... she lifted her nose to the air, not breaking contact with the boy's easy gaze...searching for the source of that smell that made her all the more weaker in anticipation...she flicked her tail and licked her nose...her white fangs glistening in the moonlight.
It has been many turns of the lights in the sky since I have tasted blood...The two stood, their eyes locked. Then the boy lifted one arm and pointed to the bushes nearby. He spoke one time...one word as he jabbed his finger toward those bushes...where the smell of the blood came from.
"Food." the boy grunted...
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