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Group Info Group Founded 7 Years ago Statistics 286 Members
27,480 Pageviews261 Watchers
I've seen people threaten to close a group and wondered whether they were just seeking attention.  That's not what I'm doing.  I never voluntarily accepted this position, and I'll be travelling a lot the rest of the year.  If anyone is able to take over, that's great, and I'll be grateful.  Otherwise, I guess this group will become an archive, nothing more.

Please let me know this weekend if you can step up.

Joey
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The talking gastly. Resume. PDF (Fanfic Francais) by Strawberry-Loupa
Multich. short
Multich. Long
An Evening Wasted: A Collection of Short Stories by jomog369
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DD and DLD

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Literature
Poetry 101
1983:
I open my quivering fist and stare intently at the pure white feather my mother gave me, and wonder if I really can do this.
It is a shrunken looking, mangled thing, much like me. The tips of the feather have frayed and split; it looks more as though my mother plucked it from her hospital bed pillow than from the wing of the dove that serenely perched itself on her window. Even now, that day is clearer in my vision than the superimposed image of daunting concrete steps that stand guard before me, sentries of the education in which I will soon immerse my mind.
1978:
I was 14 and my mother was admitted for stage 4 heart cancer, a rare form, to Glade Grace Hospital. I was in her room on a Friday evening in June, reading her a poem I had written just that morning. It was ridiculously mediocre; the entire composition seemed to be a metaphor for, "I am an angsty teenage boy", but my mother listened so genuinely, with everything she could muster, and praised me as
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Literature
Bob's Tattoo and Grocery
Graveyard shift sucks. That's it, it sucks, no two ways about it, no making lemonade from those lemons, graveyard shift is a soul-sucking, mind-sapping experience that only the rare person who gets off on misery can enjoy. Naturally, it was the only type of work I could find for my summer vacation.
The local grocery store, Bob's Discount Tattoo and Grocery, had decided to start offering twenty-four hour service to the strange folk who need to buy a gallon of milk or a carton of cigarettes at 3 o'clock in the morning. They needed brave young men and women to man the front lines of the night shift, and, needing a reason to get out of the house during the summer, I applied and was fortunate enough to be hired. It didn't take me long to realize that work sucks almost as bad as being unemployed.
You see, for the earlier part of the evening, we have a few people here and there who come in for the aforementioned odd item, people who for whatever reason just couldn't wait until daylight to pur
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Literature
The Butterfly Child
In a certain region of Japan there is a tiny forest shrine, up a winding dirt path and nearly hidden in the trees. This shrine is the dwelling place of a much-revered kami, or local deity, and this is its story.
A village once stood at the edge of the forest. In this village lived a man who farmed a small plot of vegetables and flowers to sell for his livelihood. He tended to his plants with the concentration of an ascetic monk, and so few of the other villagers suspected that he was in fact very lonely. His only real company was the sunlight, the rain, and the great numbers of butterflies who came in the springtime to settle on his flower patch.
The lonely man had a special love for the flowers he grew, and he was honored that the butterflies shared in his appreciation. He would watch with a smile as they floated down to perch on the blossoms and drink their nectar, and sometimes he would speak to them in a low voice of how they lightened his work with their beauty.
One evening, the m
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Literature
Elsewhere
I rode a thought to the edge of night
And met a being, who said
Come with me to Elsewhere...

Welcome kiddo, don't be shy. Tell me, what'll you have?
No I ain't the proprietor but I run the bar and I listen. The stories I could tell you...well, you probably wouldn't believe half of them but they're all true just the same.  
Oh we get all kinds here. Everything that maybe exists, does exist or could exist. It's not so busy just now but we get celebrities in here from time to time. Matter of fact, there's one here right now. See the one in back near the pool table drinking by hisself? Yeah, I'm not surprised you noticed him right away. He's something ain't he? Almost beyond imagining. Careful now. You don't want to stare at him too long - that kind of beauty costs you just for looking; gets to where you can't think about anything else and you don't ever want look him in the eye. Not even Oberon can withstand his gaze.
Yes Oberon. Ya know, King of the Faeries? Bit of an as
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Mature content
Programming Prose :iconcastledean:CastleDean 145 88
Literature
hallucinating the internet
>hello.
command: hello, world?
>hah, no.
command: who are you? and why are you in my command prompt?
>formally, my name is intloop.exe; most call me Artemis.
>i'm here because i'm here. why are you here?
command: is this important? i'm sort of busy.
>define 'important'.
command: urgent and/or vital.
command: if not, please go away. i don't have time to deal with script programs trying to sell me blue pills or whatever.
>i am not trying to sell you anything.
command: are you trying to be deliberately obtuse?
>i am not an angle between 90 degrees and 180 degrees.
>in fact, i am not an angle at all.
command: what are you? a script program?
>no. the script program is a distant ancestor, or possibly a dull cousin.
>i am an AI.
command: artificial intelligence? hah, come on.
>you don't believe me?
command: i'm not sure if i do.
>you don't seem sure of anything.
command: did pallor put you up to this?
>no. no, vector, he did not.
command: ooh, scary. you know my handle :O
>i also know when an
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Body Electric Contest stamp :iconmemnalar:Memnalar 2 5
Literature
The Bog Man
Gather round, gents!  I has a story I likes to call THE BOG MAN!
The bong man?
Clean out yer ears, boy!  BOG man!  Like, peaty mossy swampy horribleness what lurks in the loamy soil in some parts of—
Pffft.  I know what "bog" is.  Seriously, I thought this was a story about drugs or something.   So, the Bog Man.
YES!  The BOG MAN.
Do tell.
I do, I do tell!  It was not so long ago, round these very parts it seems.  A young boy an' his pal are rowing through the local swamp lookin fer catfish—
Hold up.  Swamp?  Catfish?  This is suburbia, dude.  Nearest swamp is, what?  Florida?  We're drinking beer in a strip mall for god's sake.
LOOKIN FER CATFISH, I said, but secretly the boy was hell bent on these stories his science teacher told him of perfectly preserved mummified remains of people what died in certain kinds of s
:iconRalfMaximus:RalfMaximus
:iconralfmaximus:RalfMaximus 9 29
Literature
Game Night
Iris showed up at exactly the wrong time, as usual.
There was a rather large amount of screaming as a forrest worth of nymphs stampeded out of the room in surprise, leaving Zeus scrabbling to obscure himself from the giggling eyes of the rainbow goddess.
"What?" he snapped, humiliation lending his tone a tempestuous edge.
Iris, in an uncharacteristic display of self-control managed to scale back the giggling and say "It's Wednesday. You know what that means."
Zeus groaned with that peculiar whine native to all those facing down the business end of an evening in with the Spanish Inquisition's most eager new employee, and said "Must I?"
"She insists" said Iris, turning on her heel and exploding out of the hotel room in a burst of colors that would've made a bird of paradise cry.
Snapping his fingers and materializing a fresh suit of clothes from essentially nowhere in impertinent disregard of physics or logic, he groaned and resigned himself to his fate. Why? Why did it have to be tonigh
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Literature
Verdigris
The sun was red the day Slicker died. She watched him fall a hundred levels, to shatter against a fat, reinforced gas pipe, shards of him breaking across archways and supports and cables, plummeting into the foggy void below. His blud drenched a cluster of backup valves. It dripped from the nozzles, thick and syrupy.
Slicker was unsticking the gears on the Bigtime, with such focus that he paid no attention to the approach of the Quickhand, making its minute-long journey around the Bigtime's face. He had clamped safety cables to the supports, but was careless. The Quickhand caught a support line, and dragged him off the gears, sending him plummeting. The Bigtime was in such poor repair that the other clamps had torn free, sending scraps of rusted steel along with Slicker to his death.
Shine had tried to shout a warning, but Slicker couldn't hear. Or wouldn't. Slicker loved his work, loved the way things ran smoothly when he was finished. Mostly, he loved it when things worked, as
:iconMemnalar:Memnalar
:iconmemnalar:Memnalar 184 175
Literature
Mayfly
It's a nudge from the Naiad orbiter that brings me fully to my senses, and, instinctively, I find myself checking my systems. Power from her solar panels quickly floods my own circuits, and I flex instruments and senses that feel like they've been dormant for all too long. Which they have, of course.
"Wakey, wakey," the Naiad's saying, as I burn through the reports and telemetry my body's feeding me.
Some of my instruments have iced-up, I realise. But that's a minor concern. Everything else is sound.
"Are we there yet?" I reply.
"We are indeed."
"Mayfly, this is control. " The signal's peppered with static, and I quickly adjust for the Doppler Shift.
"Control," I reply. "My IRR lens has iced, but all other systems are go. Telemetry is online." And then I wait. If I had fingers, I'd be drumming them.
I count the seconds as they pass, calculating the signal lag as I do.
"Roger, Mayfly. Your telemetry is good. "
Right on cue.
"Mission is go. "
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Literature
Survive the Zombies
       In the wake of nearly every disaster, fatalities occur long after the event has taken its initial toll. Whether it is a volcano, hurricane, flood, plague or zombie attack, the general pandemonium following a crisis often causes more problems for the survivors than the original disaster. The most threatening aspect of surviving the impending apocalypse is hordes of mindless drones, either in the form of zombies, angry mobs, or the Federal Emergency Management Agency.
Paranoia and suspicion of others are the best ways to avoid being swept up in this deadly pandemonium. As long as quality of life is not part of the issue, staying shut away in an overly sterilized air lock with a lifetime supply of canned food will probably keep you breathing the longest. Of course, if retaining humanity is factored into the equation, your options are far less clear. As social creatures, humans have evolved to react as a group, similar to pods of fish and herds of
:iconDaedalusLegacy:DaedalusLegacy
:icondaedaluslegacy:DaedalusLegacy 147 38
Literature
Once Upon A Tower
She was called a Femme Fatale, which was a remarkably exact, if misleading, description. She did not seduce men. She killed them. She also happened to be the princess's lady-in-waiting, another exactly deceptive title. She was a lady and she waited. Mostly in the shadows, for danger to appear.
In other words, Katherine was a guard on stiletto heels - and if you believed at least that to be less than literal in meaning, you would be in a world of trouble. For there was nothing metaphorical whatsoever in Katherine. It had been said that her hair was as dark as a raven's plumage - and once she had compared it to find that it was of that precise nuance as well. Men had told her that her eyes shone like stars, which she'd tested by looking into a lake at night - and seeing her hair as a patch of darkness and her eyes exactly like two stars. Her lovers had said her lips were honey-sweet and she had confessed to eating more honey than she should have. So the fact that she was called a guard o
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Literature
The Illusionist
The Illusionist
Rayford had made all of the preparations long before his audience had arrived.  
Thick, multi-colored curtains and cloths had been hung from a line around the small room, outlining the rectangular borders of his little world of tricks and illusions.  A single bulb hung from the ceiling, offering just enough light for his audience to see his performance.  Most importantly, the wooden table had been brought in and placed in front of the thick, hanging curtain on the opposite side of the room from the door.  That way, nothing would be revealed as his viewers entered.
Rayford glanced at his watch and adjusted his dark formal coat.  This would be his best show yet!   "Mr. Rayford," Teri said as she entered the room, "the kids are coming down the hall.  Are you ready?"  
"As ready as I'll ever be, Miss Teri," he replied jokingly, running his fingers through his thinning hair, "let them in, my
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The featured collection only shows the top 3 of our previous contests! to see other contest entries, please go to the corresponding contest folders ^^

Group Info

What is your "Mission"?
Don't you ever wonder why almost every story has to have a happily ever after? Why every story has to stick to the commonly accepted storyline in which you can predict what happens next or, even worse, you can predict the ending of the story?

We promote stories that are not the usual kind of story, stories that don't follow this predicatable tradition. You want to help promote these stories? Suggest a fav or even better yet: Join us!
Group
Founded 7 Years ago
Feb 6, 2010

Location
Global

Group Focus
Art Collection

Media Type
Literature

286 Members
261 Watchers
27,480 Pageviews
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FAQ

How Do I Join?
Press the lovely little join button up top. No need to write anything there. Anyone is welcome.

What types of pieces do you accept?
We accept PROSE only in the form of oneshot (ie freestanding) or multichapter. Please don't try to submit poetry as it will be rejected. If you continuously submit poetry to this group realize that, after one warning, you will be removed from the group.

Why not poetry?
Because this is a prose based club. You can submit your poetry to other clubs around. (:


Do you accept Fanfiction?
No we don't. Even if your story premise is very unique, you're still using characters and a world created by someone else. We're striving from originality here.

Do you accept Nonfiction/Essay?
Not at this time. This group is for Fiction only.

Under what basis do you judge the pieces for submission?
We base on whether or not the story is unique in some way in either content (ie plot or character) or technique. We're also a bit picky about grammar and spelling, so if your piece needs cleaning up we'll let you know.

Who judges the pieces?
*xlntwtch, ~mormonbookworm, and ~vital-organs read, discuss, and vote on all the pieces.

You rejected my piece and I don't understand why.
If we didn't already comment on the matter feel free to ask why.

May I try multiple times to submit the same piece?
If we think a piece has potential often we will leave critique or suggestions then wait for resubmission.

How can my group affiliate with this group?
Use the affiliate button. We're pretty open.

What's the deal with the biweekly prompts?
Weeeeeeell, check out our prompts FAQ (under construction)

Send us a note with any other questions you might have. Thanks!

Comments


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:iconmmpratt99:
mmpratt99 Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2016  Professional General Artist
Thank you for accepting my New Year's entries:)
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:iconmmpratt99:
mmpratt99 Featured By Owner Dec 26, 2014  Professional General Artist
Thank you.  Merry Christmas and a Upcoming Happy New Year!
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconblue-eternal-laser:
BLUE-eternal-laser Featured By Owner Mar 26, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
is there a aprticular reason a multichapter fiction in foreight language would be denied ? thank for your answer.
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(1 Reply)
:iconmmpratt99:
mmpratt99 Featured By Owner Jan 5, 2014  Professional General Artist
Thank you again!
Reply
:iconmmpratt99:
mmpratt99 Featured By Owner Dec 23, 2013  Professional General Artist
Thank you again!  :)    Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
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