A bit ago I posted something called Help me write a story!. I offered the first few paragraphs of three different stories and invited anyone to continue writing either of them in a box at the bottom.
No one continued the story, which was kind of sad, so I convinced my nine-year-old brother to help (his blog). Here’s what he wrote.
Part 1 (by me)
In real life, I can’t say a word without feeling like I’m going to faint. But music isn’t real life. At least, it doesn’t feel like it. When I trot through the clamorous New York City streets, I am invisible. When I lean against a building, open my guitar case, and dance my fingers across the strings, though, I simply can’t be ignored.
More people gather, their forever-on phones recording me as I crescendo into the pinnacle of my song. I fix my eyes on a crack in the sidewalk and crash my hand against the instrument, the final strum lingering in the air.
One person claps. Then two, three, twenty. I smile and stand in front of the applause. Once they clear, I go through the tips in my case. A few coins and bills, a chunk of bread that I sigh and toss away. And a folded piece of paper.
I do get the occasional note of encouragement, but I don’t remember seeing anyone put this in. I unfold the paper and read the note.
Meet me in this exact spot tomorrow at noon. Be there or everyone will know your secret.
Part 2 (by ddinomorphball)
Unsure, I go to that spot I always play at, with my guitar and a fire extinguisher. (Hey. You can never be too careful.) When I get there, a hand pulls me through a crack in the bricks. “AAAAAH! WHAT DO YOU WANT?! MY MONEY?! TAKE IT! HOW DID YOU PULL ME THROUGH THE WALL?!”
“SHHH!” A raspy voice says. “You know what you’re doing is wrong.”
Well, I know it’s bad. Whenever I play, I tell myself: Hey! Cursing New York with your guitar is unacceptable!
A cliffhanger… if you’d like to continue the story, type something in the box at the end of this post.
I think some of the people who read the first post might have automatically ruled out participating because they aren’t writers. But the point of this story is to have all different styles, different voices, different levels of experience. So if you want to contribute something, but don’t feel like you’re competent, you definitely should.
Anyway, here are the rules again, hopefully we can keep the story going some more.
- Please only submit a following part to the story. There is a space for comments below and no spam please.
- Submit using the box at the end of each post in this series. It makes things easier. Also, if you are submitting, say, a part 3, enter it in the box on the part 2 post, not the part 1 post.
- Keep it PG. No harsh language or PG-13+ scenes.
- NO racism, homophobia, sexism, etc.
- Length: A part can be as short as one sentence and as long as 800 words, but I’m not strict — 801 words is fine.
- Genre/style: Feel free to write in whatever style you want. You could even continue in a poem.
- Deadline: There is no set deadline, but if no one writes something within a week or two, I will write a part or ask someone I know to.