Continue The Story: It Was a Dark and Stormy night.

[utahguy]

Continue The Story: It Was a Dark and Stormy night. Attention Writers, Wouldabee’s, Wannabee’s, Amateurs, Hacks, etc. etc.

Now is your chance to perceive, pen and publish your punishing purple prose planetwide.
Just take the last line from this, or any post/comment and add your prose. No need for this turkey to come out linearly.

Any genre, any style. And without concern if it’s bad, it’s SUPPOSE to be.

Comments and Groans are welcome.

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled out of the north like a bereaved banshee, roaring over the moor, funnelling its fuming ferocity down the valley toward the opulent manor.

The gale twisted bits of flotsam, flora and fauna into the frigid air, creating a clammering cacaphony of wretched debris hurling headlong into the walls of the estate as if on some suicidal mission to find refuge.

Inside the manor Percilla pouted. Thurgood and Eason had undoubtedly cancelled their visit, since her butler had informed her earlier that the bridge had been washed out due to the storm.

The only other route was a narrow, twisted trail through the moors of which she was told no sane person would dare venture at night, much less in this weather.
And they could be such cowards at times, she thought, for she so looked forward to a rousing game of whisk.
Oh, bother. Nothing left to do but get tiddly.

She poured the sherry herself, as she had dismissed the servants early. Pressing her voluptuous lower lip to the edge of the glass, she took a long sip of the amber liquid while giving a blank stare toward the immense fireplace.

Percilla watched impassively as the flames flickered fluidly, like dozens of Dante’s dancing denizens, pirouetting upwards to a silent symphony.

She signed, placed the goblet on the table, which now was adorned with a baby's bottom of crimson on the lip of the leaded crystal.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door . . . . . . .

[potlatch]

[As the morning sun broke over the sea I......]

fell over the side of the boat and got eaten by a shark.

End of story!

A+++

[Lady Jag]

I'm rained in, can you get that for me?

[Lady Jag]

You are raring to write today! That's good writing and on a good day I'd give it a shot. I'm too whiny today, however, and it is a dark and stormy night here. Rain has retired for the day. Rocketing wind gusts powering flocks of leaves make dusk eerie like Halloween should be.

[potlatch]

Here he is sitting on a wire. The rain made him shrink!

He lives on my Profile Page, lol.

[Lady Jag]

That's not my mind!

Don't let me lose my mind!

[devolve]

[Lady Jag]

Me, too, there are plenty of references to the style but not its riles. Till looking.

[potlatch]

[That's not my mind! ]

An owl is wise!

just not in 'tandem', lol.

[Lady Jag]

Shark attack??

[potlatch]

Now you're the shark stalking other boaters?

Nice picture!

[Lady Jag]

Look me in the eyes! Look me straight in the eyes, young lady, and say that to my face. I do not have a bird's brain!

[potlatch]

Funny, that looks just like the creature in the street!

I didn't know your brain escaped it's cage!

[Lady Jag]

Cripes!   No use asking YOU for help!!

[devolve]

[fanfan]

I'd like to trace its origins >>>

It comes from the "Leftward Land of Silliness"!

[potlatch]

YOU ARE SO BAD !

[rock58seg]

It was a dark stormy night as Al Gore stomped in out of the cold.
"This was supposed to be a stinking desert by now," he screamed.
"If we don't get some Global Warming soon, people will laugh at me as much as when I attempted to steal the Elections in 2000."

This last year, 2019, had been the hardest of all, for him to bear. After 18 years of predicting disaster from Global Warming, the Earths climate had stayed relatively consistent. 2006 had been spectacularly bad. Record Hurricane predictions had not materialized. To make matters worse, no full grown storms had even approached the North American Continent.

Then came the primary fiasco's of the 2008 elections. He had recovered from those quite nicely, due to a cadre of of staunch "Weather Scientists" who took their Liberal Arts degrees very seriously.

His investments had not done well either. He had invested heavily in alternative fuels, just before a vast reserve of oil had been discovered in the offshore territorial waters of Israel. His Liberal TV network had eventually faded, after the Conservative steam roller thwarted Democrat/Socialist hopes in the 2006 elections.

This latest effort, however, was going to prove his theories valid. He had purchased this tract of land just outside of Portland, Washington, knowing it would soon be dessert, and his cactus and yucca growing operations could be brought to full fruition. His secret, "water from cactus and yucca," formula would make the dessert bloom again, if it would just stop raining.

He was feeling very good on one note though. Twenty five years ago he had resisted the advice of then President Clinton to have an affair. He just wasn't that kind of guy, and Dammit that Tipper was a Hottie. One of the good things through all the years. Now even she was starting to give him a hard time. Ralph Nader and Jerry Brown no longer returned his phone calls. What was a man to do?

......Tune in for the next chapter of:

"As the world remains the sameold sameold"

[devolve]

heh

.mp3

[bert]

There he was, sitting in the rain, hat pulled down tghtly. He was reviewing the events of the day. Imagine, he a blackman at the Playboy mansion, a guest.

The bunny had engaged him in conversation and actually came on to him. As he was leaving, tucking the raincoat tight, he saw her out of the corner of his eye, She actually winked and slowly mouthed the words...."Call me."

The future was looking up. He could feel the future changing event in his bones

[Lady Jag]

What's that?