Pigeons

Hey guys,

So I’m basically learning how this blog works and how to post stuff, haha, so I’ll post part of the world-building prompt we did today. My main hat topics were the two colors we got, and pigeons. What I’m describing is part of a world I’d already created, and it’s told from the protagonist’s perspective. There are a few invented words in here, but bear in mind that this is an Elf with a Scottish highland accent in an alternate fantasy world.

–The walls were green, the streets were brown. That was Ardaley, in a sentence. Of course, Rist had a flair for poetry, so he called the flat grey-green of the village houses “afternoon nap”, and the dark dirt-brown roads “vintage satchel”. But that was just Rist. The walls were green, the streets were brown. That was it.

It was quaint, even so. From the short little entrance arch at the foot of the hill, a well-marked dirt road wound its way around houses and shops. Around them, not between them. Just for fun. The houses themselves–greenish-gray– adapted to the shape of the landscape, as Elven houses were prone to do. And because the population was mostly Elves, the houses just couldn’t go without a little flower bush here, a stout sapling over there. And again because it was Elves, no doorframe or windowpane went without swirls and carvings and braided designs snaking their way along the wood.
It was a quaint little place.

The only problem? It was packed-filled with pigeons. Blow the little buggers. They were everywhere. Nesting in the chimneys, loitering on fenceposts, slopping on the windowsills. And people’s hats.
Spring was especially bad. Those nutcase birds would come by the hundreds and mob the village. One would trip on them on the way to the bakery, or have to hop off the wagon to shoo them out of the horses’ way. And they wouldn’t budge, the rascals. In fact, one could say that they considered themselves the lords of this town.
And if outsiders observed that the townsfolk of Ardaley were more keen-awared than most, it was because of the pigeons. One had to always be on guard. Many an unwary chap had been thonked in the head by an intrepid bird on a mission. Dangerous, pigeons were.–

Boston Teen Author Festival

Hi All!!!

So this coming Saturday is the Boston Teen Author Festival! A bunch of you have already told me that you’d like the come with us, and tonight at N.E.W.T. it was decided when and where we will be leaving. Here are the detes:

We will be meeting Saturday morning in front of the Watermelon sign on the corner of Comm Ave and Deerfield St (think the side walk between the Kenmore classroom building and 100 Bay State; if you’re confused, email me). The festivities kick off at 10:00 a.m. We will be departing promptly @ 9:00 a.m., so please get there 5 or 10 minutes in advance. You will need money for the T fair to and from Cambridge and for food as the festival will not be feeding us. I myself will probably be bringing food with me which is always an option if you don’t feel like spending money. In addition, there will be an opportunity to buy the authors’ books, so if that interests you, make sure you bring additional money (most hardcover books cost between 17 and 25 dollars). I believe the planned events end at 4:00 p.m. and there will be an opportunity to get books signed by the authors until 4:30. If no one wants to have anything signed we will leave at 4:00 and take the T back to campus.

CORRECTION 9/24: The second round of panels end at 2:50 p.m.! So we can leave as early as 3:00 if no one is interested in the signings!

If you haven’t told me you want to go, you have until 12:00 tomorrow to email me and get on my list!

See you on Saturday!

Emma

Things we all probably (fictionally) need.

Book gloves.

Book scarves.

MERCHANDISE.

Seriously, this is cool, check it out.

Storiarts

Hey Y’all,

This is my first post on the blog. This is a new story I’ve been writing. I hope you all enjoy it.

Keep in mind this is in progress. Some of the stuff here is thanks to the stories from a hat thing we did last week. Also I hope you all have an amazing Wednesday as I won’t be in club as it is Yom Kippur.

Who am I?

I’m your worst nightmare.

~Anonymous

In the dimension of Bjorknow, when humans die, their souls get sent to HVN (Hay Van Ne). They are then mixed with undreds of other souls and then randomly sent to new bodies to be reincarnated. However, one soul, Lorgebor is preparing to escape through the use of his brains

Hav Van Nee Prison

The souls are being marched in line towards reincarnation.

Guard: All right, you souls, follow me towards the reincarnation chamber. No one cut!
Lorgebor (to one of the guards): Hey buddy can I aks you something?

Guard: Huh, what you want?

(He heads over in Lorgebor’s direction)

Lorgebor knocks him out with a swift punch and cuts the line. He heads toward the door

Lorgebor: Hee hee hee no more second-rate bodies for me. Only the best bodies for me!

Havenite Guards: Stop!

As Lorgebor heads toward the door, a hand grabs him from behind.

The Arbiter: Did you really think you could get away with cutting the line so easily, soul? Take him to the imprisonment chamber. He will not be allowed to reincarnate for several more decades.

The gurads drag him off to the prisons.

He sits there for several hrs. Finally, there is a knock at his door.
The guards open up his door and drag him by the shoulders.

“Come on, fool. The Arbiter wants to see you.”

“What for?”
They throw him to the ground facefirst.

“It’s none of your business! Any more stupid questions?”

They drag him to the arbiter’s door

“Have you brought he prisoner?
“Here he is.”
“Ah so you’re the one who tried to cut the line and get a body ahead of everyone else. On top of that you knocked out a guard.”

“Why am I here? I thought I was in prison.”
“Oh you still are in priosn. However, we’re giving you another shot. You see, at the same time that you ctu the line, there was a prison break and three of the most dangerous souls in the world escaped and reincarnated.

“So? Where the hell do I come into this?

“If you can recapture these souls and bring them back to us, we’ll give you a new body and you don’t do jail time.

“If you don’t…hold on! I’m out of coffee! Charles! Bring me and the guest some fresh coffee.”

*One of the guards nods and a few minutes later comes back with two cup of coffees. The Arbiter takes one of them and throws it to the ground shattering it.

“You see that? You’ll end up like that cup of coffee if you try any funny business.”

“I understand Arbiter. But aren’t you afraid your blood will drip like the coffee drips when those criminal scome back and attack you?

“Was that a threat? You’re lucky I’m in a good mood boy.”

The Arbiter spat in his hand. Lorgebor hsook it. It was what all the dirty souls did, a sort of family tradition.

Lorgebor thought back to human traditions. One particular human tradition that came to mind was ding-dong ditching where humans would ring the bells of their neighbors and run away laughing.

H2R2

Melanie bought an expensive green dress and wore it one Tuesday.

And then, she fell in a puddle and ruined it.

She was incredibly sad and returned to her tiny cave. 

And then, she decided to go out to buy a new one to replace what the puddle had ruined. 

But she found out they were no longer for sale.

“How dare you try my patience this way.” She snarled, “Hand over the goods, now.”

“Not on your life.”

Staring down the barrel of a gun – it felt crazy.

But this was the life of an assassin, if only he followed his dream of being a novelist. 

He wanted to write, but he also wanted to kill. A lot; and writing wouldn’t fit in.

So, he did all he could to combine the two. He became “The Papercut Butcher.”

A baby cried in the alley. The sound of hungry vultures could be heard.

I was ready for the cold embrace of death. Nothing could be done for me, I was a dead man. 

Unless…I walk into my supply closet and bust out the Lemon Pledge. It’s on like Donkey Kong in this piece.

The metal chute opened from above and a stream of bananas fell forth and everybody was happy – especially Donkey Kong. 

---

The boy sat in the cottage, daydreaming. The witch cackled, “You’ll never get free.”

“You don’t know that!” I yelled back.

I wasn’t sure of it, but she was not about to find that out. 

Stab. Mrs. Crabtree toppled into the unkempt bushes she so proudly enjoyed. To think I had put up with her dusty ass for a year.

The solstice was coming up soon, and everyone was looking forward to how pretty this night would be. 

Max looked at the toe ring on his foot and then back at his mom.

Lemon Pledge. She has to die. But how?

“Do you want some lemonade?” Max asks his mother. 

“Which girl scout did you buy this from?” His mother asked. “I know you didn’t make this yourself.”

“The pretty one which looks like Dorothy.”

Not the ugly one who looks like Donald Trump in a bikini, if a strong gust of wind hit him, I bet his hair would take off.

Just leave, because his hair has put up with so much shit. Leave, and start a new life, on a nicer head. Maybe Beyonce’s. How nice would that be. 

---

Once upon a time the toothpaste exploded. And then it got in her hair.

She screeched and decided it was time for a change. 

“Cut it off.” she said. 

They raised the knife between them. They brought it down on her toe – blood began to spurt.

Her toe experienced necrosis and rotted off. 

“What the fuck?!?!” she screamed as she stared in horror.

She shielded her eyes, but it could not be unseen. It glowed and pulsed like lights at a rave show. 

Whatever it was, he couldn’t figure it out. He would need help to figure out whatever this strange glowing object was.

So he went off in search of the only person he could turn to: Gandalf the Grey. 

Gandalf was not amused by this intrusion. In his anger, he launched him out the window, saying “Fly you fool!”

The young baby cried for its mother. 

The bull rushed toward the matador.

Except he didn’t know it wasn’t a real bull. It was the minotaur of the labyrinth or something.

Whooooo!

Congratulations everybody!

We have officially applied for club-hood!

Thank you so much to all officers and returning members for collecting everything we needed, and for your patience, assistance, and support.

And thank you to all of our new members for helping us grow and making this a club worth continuing and passing on.

H2R2 . . . sounds like a flu

Or a droid.

That would be Hidden Half Round Robin. Enjoy  a smattering of the results:

Charlie the Caterpillar used to have a best friend when she was still living by the strawberry plants outside. Her name was Max the Moth and she was a the most unique creature charlie had ever seen. 

Max the Moth asked Charlie, “Charlie do you like Chipotle?” I FREAKING LOVE CHIPOTLE!

Every day I make sure to put the following in my burrito: 

Rice. Beans. Pork. Tomatoes. You know Burrito stuff. Did I mention rice? At least one spider, for protein.

 One troll’s tongue for strength, one unicorn’s horn for beauty. 

Tracking the unicorn forbid to be a difficult and tedious task–especially with her “traveling buddy.” “You know.” The dwarf said, his voice loud and grating against the country quiet. “You’re awfully slow.” 

“Well I would’ve been here sooner, but the traffic was terrible.”

She leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh. 

She looked around  to see if anyone had heard. 

No one had.

*       *        *

Tay slid off the dragon’s back and stretched her legs. She took her pack off the sad and stroked her steed’s nose.

The horse whinnied and pressed against her hand. Suddenly, a sound echoed in the distance.

His flatulence shook the bounds of time and space. It was unfortunate–for everyone else.

However, Alfalfa the Great soon arrived. Alfalfa was big on saving the day.

In fact Alfalfa had a secret weapon. Alfalfa’s infamous cowlick was actually a metal detector.

He found this to be a blessing and a curse: He often found silver coins lodged in his hair, but and errant microwave was likely to strike him on the head without warning.

He wanted to know if if it had a mind of its own.

He stared into the sunset and wondered for a long while about the fragility of life, as people of his intellect are wont to do.

He threw himself off the bridge.

The ten feet were microsecond before he hit the water. Other than the pollution, it felt pleasant.

*      *     *

Rachel Thomas stood at the front of the Creative Writing Club, when suddenly, a centaur burst through the door.

“A centaur?!” Ivy yelled, and jumped on its back, she drew her sword and prepared to conquer the kingdom.

“Stop!” When she turned to her right,she found the young princess watching her with wide, panicked eyes. “Don’t do this!”

But they laughed, holding the last slice of pizza in the mouth. “Too bad, you know the rules, you snooze you loose!”

 “You didn’t give me a chance!”

“You weren’t worth trying to!”

 I stomp towards him and crushes his head between my thighs like a watermelon.

Guts spurt everywhere, between my legs. It feels as if I stepped into a swamp.

 Hopefully the swamp was like the one from Avatar. That would be way cooler than the other option.

The other option was horrible: it meant rainbows, glitter, and pink. Pink everywhere. The horror.

*       *      *

It was snowing one night in January when Alexandra felt tremors coming from beneath her house.

She quickly ran out of her home. And then she saw it…Shrek was there.

And so was Donkey. Donkey asked why Shrek was there.

Shrek said that he had lost something precious. And Donkey wondered what was more precious to Shrek than his princess.

 and decided it must be nothing at all,and he felt exceptionally annoyed.

Donkey sadly realized that he had been sad for a while as a tear fell down his face.He wiped it off with his hoof.

Snorting, he turned to his friend with a disgruntled cook.“Alright, I don’t mind getting it on me, what I do mind is the surprise.”

“Let me know before it happens,” I whisper.

He smiles, baring his fangs, before melting back into the dark forest.

“Oh shit—where U put my flashlight?”

 “You’re such an idiot, how do you lose a flashlight!”

Greetings from your Friendly, CWC Events Coordinator

Hello, lovely people.

I’m excited to be back, and I hope everyone else is too! Starting this semester, I’ll be planning and warmly encouraging (read: beseeching) you all to attend an assortment of fun, hopefully inspiring events and outings around Boston that will not only get us off campus but also give our imaginations a jump-start. First, let me lay out, vaguely, how this will work.

At the first CWC meeting WEDNESDAY @7pm in MUGAR 424, I will be gauging 1.) interest in a number of different events and 2.) if there is a day of the week which will work for most members, so make sure you get there and put in your two cents! Events (after September’s) will be planned at least two weeks in advance to allow word to get around and calendars to be booked. The idea is to get creative by leaving our normal haunts and to have fun out in our great city in ways that will hopefully aid our writing. If you have any suggestions for events/outings you’d love to see us try, please bring them to my attention! All and any ideas are welcome! There will generally be one off-campus event per month, the exception being in the case that we as a group attend an event not planned by yours truly.

FOR INSTANCE!!! On September 26 in the Cambridge Public Library, from 10am to 4pm, is the 4th annual Boston Teen Author Festival! This is a great opportunity for all of us to go and hear from published authors for FREE!! Yes, I said free, the magic f word. Check out their schedule and the complete list of authors who will be on the panel discussions!t Books by the guest authors will be available on site for purchase, and the festival ends with a signing for those interested. It would be prudent to bring enough money for the T ride to Cambridge, lunch, and any books you think you might want to buy. If we intend to attend as a group, I must know who will be going no later than Friday the 11th, as I must email the festival to let them know how many people we are bringing. Feel free to email me with questions/concerns or, alternatively, ask me at this weeks CWC meeting.

See you all Wednesday!

-Emma