A book of imaginings. Add your paragraph.

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PostWed Jan 09, 2013 9:30 am » by Iwanci


I was shaken and slightly perplexed. What is happening to me? What does all this mean? I never knew this book before, and know I felt somehow connected to it, I was somehow part of a story, but how, and why me? The coffee shop was only a 5 minute walk, and somehow it felt I was walking for hours. Where did the whore go? Would she come back to fulfil her promise? Were my balls safe?
I entered the coffee shop, I was greeted by a large breasted woman, she looked at me and asked me for my order, “One double espresso please”... “that will be $10 ” she replied... “$10 dollars? How can you justify that price?!” I exclaimed.... She looked at me quizzically, had I said something wrong? I looked up at the menu, all the prices seemed exaggeratedly high.. what is going on? “Are you ok sir?” the lady asked... “what day is today?” I asked... “it is Monday, the 2nd of December sir” she replied... “what year?” I screamed... “2027 sir”.... my heart started pounding, my headed started spinning as I remembered the number on the book.. 2 12 27.

I ran out of the shop, I tripped and fell on the pavement, the book began to glow... what was it about this book?
Fortes fortuna iuvat

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PostWed Jan 09, 2013 12:54 pm » by Toxic32


I ran out of the shop, I tripped and fell on the pavement, the book began to glow... what was it about this book? What happened to those missing years. I was confused and my knees were hurting. I pulled my self into the doorway too gather myself. That's when I had the first strange frightening memory. A flash, a blast of sound, screams splitting my mind. Darkness then laughter and pain, rolled into a mist of crazy images. A dream, no a nightmare, someone else's memories, life, pain and suffering past through my being. All I new for certain was this book was somehow important to me. I slowly opened the book and In the dim light that came through the windows of the coffee shop I started to read.

The words were hand written and hard to read, but seemed neat and deliberate. As I read I could hear the words flowing into my mind.

My name is Wafaa and my life is unimportant in the flow of history. My words are written with my blood. The pen I use is the soul of my people. Their spent wasted lives, cast aside and discarded like used matches. I live in a place called Shatila along with my two sisters and younger brother.
I question everything. I don't believe anything I'm told or anything I see. Prove it, or fuck off. And that's not me I see in the mirror in the morning.

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PostThu Jan 10, 2013 3:24 pm » by Seriouscitizen


My name is Wafaa and my life is unimportant in the flow of history. My words are written with my blood. The pen I use is the soul of my people. Their spent wasted lives, cast aside and discarded like used matches. I live in a place called Shatila along with my two sisters and younger brother

There has been a war. And the scars i have collected fighting for Shatila blinded me to find a way back to composistion with your world. I have written down that what is left for me to see in my memories. These words will read like images and flow like waves. But they are not mere words. They are Shatila. This is not my story. As i said I am blind and i can change nothing in my time. Therefore i have to bring a fresh pare of eyes here to help me see and feel the truth, the eyes of the stranger. The stranger that is you. This is not my story, this is yellow paged road to my country, to my village, to my forest.
I await you to find me..

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PostFri Jan 11, 2013 1:54 am » by Toxic32


I await you to find me.. My mind was in turmoil. My fucking knees were giving my shit. But I felt a oneness with the words that I was seeing and reading. I was hit by a jolt of reality. What I'm I doing sitting in a doorway, cold and wet, reading from this book. When I needed to find my way home. But I was drawn to the feelings I was experiencing. I needed to read on. I didn't feel a stranger to Whafaa. I felt part of what she was saying...Her words flowed into my mind. The more I read made me realise I was the blind one. As I read on. The image of her formed in my mind. Her long black hair, here olive shining skin, the clearness of her dark brown eyes shone through and warmed me more than her obvious beauty. The smell of her humanity, the pureness of unadulterated innocence of life, was her shield against the erosion of time. Only then did I realise that the blanket of a wasted life had been torn from my grasp and just kicked me in the balls. Awake up call, a smack in the face. It was a bolt of understanding I have been hiding form for years.
I question everything. I don't believe anything I'm told or anything I see. Prove it, or fuck off. And that's not me I see in the mirror in the morning.

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PostFri Jan 11, 2013 5:44 pm » by Marcydare


As I struggled to my feet I glanced around at my surroundings, And strait away noticed the Black Escalade parked directly across the street, windows blacked out, dark and sinister chills again ran up my spine.
I looked to my left and an elderly woman was approaching , Hearing a familiar noise I looked back at the SUV and three men were exiting the vehicle and heading directly towards me . the old woman was nearly in
front of me now, and as the men arrived so did the woman . A flash of bright light blinded me and there
were hands on me , a white noise, a gunshot...... . as my vision returned i looked around wildly to find the attackers, but they were gone. only Myself and the old woman, lying in a pool of blood remained.
and as I looked down at her thats when I realised that there was a Pistol in my hand. My mind reeled
and my pulse was pounding in my head so .........

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PostSat Jan 12, 2013 5:20 am » by Skydog


My mind reeled,the pulse was pounding in my head so...

i slipped into a kind of daze.I fought hard to keep my mind focused,on the job at hand..The book.Waafa.The numbers..
Time seemed to fly by in my semi-concious,God damn,pounding head state.It was obvious..I was blacking out only one thing for it now try and ground myself..
I gripped the pistol as hard as i could and i pointed it squarely between the old womans eyes."YOU!"I cried,"I know you,you withered old crone!"
The lightning started!The rain hammered down upon my throbbing head and with a toothless grin she smiled.."You have known me once donkey dick"

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PostSat Jan 12, 2013 6:16 am » by kandiseungerripper


."You have known me once donkey dick" She began to cackle, the cackle turned to a high pitched scream and then a buzzing sound. The world I knew was fading, I stared up at the sky, I could still hear the buzz and then a loud pop. I was no longer lying on my back looking at the sky...I was looking at myself. I was staring at my own face, I struggled to focus and could see the old woman screaming over me. She was a hideous old crone. I looked into her eyes, they were wide and black as night, she turned to me as I floated before her. She looked right into me, I could feel the very essence of my being recoil in shock and horror....

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PostSun Jan 13, 2013 2:15 am » by Toxic32


I could feel the very essence of my being recoil in shock and horror....It was only then that I started to understand. I was about to kill the one person in my life that I loved, the women that meant so much to me . This old women was my mother. Why the fuck was I pointing a gun at her head. I sat down again sobbing my very soul was about to explode. What was happening to me. I'm lost, I'm in a place that I didn't understand. My life was a mess, I cried until my mind couldn't stand it any more. I slowly looked up, I looked around me. I was still sitting in the doorway. The street was quite and wet. The night seemed settled and rested. What I had just lived through was not real. I thought and tried to understand what had I just experienced. But no matter how I tried. Nothing gave me comfort. As the night wore on my mind started to clear. I still had the book, that's when I realised that I had been drudged. I'm here, I'm alive and I have a purpose given to me. I opened the book again. That's when I read that.
I question everything. I don't believe anything I'm told or anything I see. Prove it, or fuck off. And that's not me I see in the mirror in the morning.

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PostSun Jan 13, 2013 2:37 am » by Doogle


That's when I read the next chapter, about a man reading a book. He was lying in his bed, a storm raging, unaware or the the hands sliding under the gap between the door and the floor, hands with fingers too long to be a normal human, and instead of finger nails, ebony black claws like the fiercest of hounds glistened as they tore the door away from the inside, as if trying to escape the room, but it wasn't trying to escape. The light fro the hall pierced the dark of the wooden floor like a torch shone into a crypt. The cracking was deafening, but lost in the words of the book and muted by the sound of the storm, the hands became arms as he continued to read, the room was quickly becoming a lair.
I continued reading, whilst the storm raged, unaware of the ebony black claws appearing under the crack of the door.

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PostSun Jan 13, 2013 2:43 am » by fatbastard2.0


Then suddenly I thought, "I need a bigger door."
I am not now, nor have I ever been an oil trader, and neither has anyone on my behalf. I have never seen a barrel of oil, owned one, bought one, sold one, and neither has anyone on my behalf.


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