Pseudo-gestalt thread

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Pseudo-gestalt thread

Post  Ceresbane on Thu Jan 03, 2013 12:43 am

Okay, I'm getting frustrated with a script I'm writing and needing to spread my creative wings. Could end up a fail, could be a success.

So I'm going to use this to give myself a challenge and you guys an interesting game to play.

Basic premise. You are to write roughly 100 word long prose that continues off the previous post creating a pseudo-gestalt of fiction.

Basic rules.
No literal language. An obscure rule meaning any action or emotion cannot be described specifically by a single word. It has to be described than told. I will be lenient on many instances, just so long as you aren't intentionally being lazy about it.

Violence and sexual acts are implied. Things like blood are described in metaphor.

The character will have no sex and no name.

Other characters will have no name but will have a sex.

e.g. walking past a post.

The world shifted around as I took one step after another. Many things shifted into view and only to be gone again. What had me shift into a slower pace was a long high wooden shaft, atop it was something that told me of something I couldn't ignore. I observed the post on top of the long beam that stands erect and impaled upon the ground so that all could see the message it had to say. The scribblings on the simple white board had told me to die. Those words in red script, drooping down by the pull of the earth and seemly warping at the prospect of being seen, they spoke to me. They told me of my own fears, my growing sadness and of my own desires and impulses. I was away, almost like a flash. Beyond me was everything, behind me was all I didn't want to see.

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Re: Pseudo-gestalt thread

Post  Ruthalas_ on Wed Jul 03, 2013 10:15 am

Laid out before me were choices. Wide choices and narrow choices, each flavored mysteriously with the dimming light.
The inevitability of choosing made me linger at the crux. The madman's scribbles above my head shouted, clambering to guide me even as I resisted motion.
Their shouts grew fainter as I forwent the decision entirely, surrendering to the soft embrace of the turning point itself.
The light snuffed itself on the unfulfilled possibilities of both narrow and wide choices and all was dark.

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