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Jay Lake
Date: 2011-10-31 06:39
Subject: [writing] Exquisite Corpse for Halloween
Security: Public
Tags:exquisite corpse, writing
Let's play a Halloween writing game. I'm going to provide a brief story starter below. Add a sentence or a paragraph in comments, hopefully building on prior comments for a tiny bit of continuity. (Which is, strictly speaking, not an exquisite corpse exercise, I know. Maybe this is more of an exquisite warm body.) I'll try to edit them together and make us a story. Just for fun, just for fun.

The Bone Witch's front yard was something between a horror and wonder, depending on the hour of the day and the depth of the sin you'd brought up to her cabin with you. Eyes glistened from among the leaves where no animal dared tread, while noisesome little teethy things strained sharp-edge runners past the rusted barbed wire to pluck at your ankles. Samhain was no time to be up on her mountain.

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User: joycemocha
Date: 2011-10-31 13:46 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
And yet the death-eyed girl crouched in the brambles beyond the barbed wire, keenly watching the shambles of the front door, ignoring the sleeting cold mist trickling down her thermal-clad back. One hand tightened on the work-smoothed handle of her oddly curved knife as she supported herself by digging in the knuckles of her other hand into the damp, icy dirt, waiting for her chance. Waiting for her moment. Waiting for the Bone Witch.

Waiting for her vengeance.
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User: adelheid_p
Date: 2011-10-31 14:09 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
The gray brown wolf softly padded up beside her. "Brother," she whispered, "what are you doing here?"
The wolf's head morphed into a human face and growled, "As foolish as this is, I could not let you do this alone."
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User: makoiyi
Date: 2011-10-31 14:10 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
Her father and her brothers were among the bones. Last Samhain they had dared to come to the mountain and last Samhain left their bones. Not so Teara; the only bones she would be leaving were the witch's. She clutched the knife more tightly and for just a moment the moon gleamed on the blade.
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User: madrobins
Date: 2011-10-31 14:12 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
The Bone Witch's front yard was something between a horror and wonder, depending on the hour of the day and the depth of the sin you'd brought up to her cabin with you. Eyes glistened from among the leaves where no animal dared tread, while noisesome little teethy things strained sharp-edge runners past the rusted barbed wire to pluck at your ankles. Samhain was no time to be up on her mountain.

The Bone Witch's daughter, a lovely girl but no lovelier than any girl of seventeen has a right to be, stepped warily on her way to market in the morning, and more warily on her return--well before dusk was even thought of. The blacksmith's son was not so wise. It had taken him time, after he caught sight of the witch's girl, to finish the work he had been given, and then to wash the stink and the soot of the forge from him and make himself presentable. Of all the days of the year, this was the one on which he was smitten, but he did not reach the mountain until the sun had dropped below the mountain's answering hills. Mist was rising from the valley, and the nameless things that hid behind the greenery of the witch's garden, eyed the boy with hungry malice as he approached the garden.
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Twilight: WriterRose
User: twilight2000
Date: 2011-10-31 15:17 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
Teara was watching the Bone Witch's house, waiting for her chance, as the blacksmith's son walked up the path, not quite bold-as-you-like, but every bit as loud. She growled, low in her throat, telling her wolf brother what he already knew: The boy would alert the Bone Witch - he probably already had. Her vengeance would have to take a slightly different approach with her alerted.
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scarlettina: Autumn
User: scarlettina
Date: 2011-10-31 15:42 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
Sure enough, the door swung open before the blacksmith's son reached the threshhold. He paused when he saw nothing but darkness there, cold, spice-laden air wafting out. The mountain wind rose in response, and the chittering things hiding amongst the late herbs and shrubs whispered at him, a sotto voce chorus in the shadows. Why hadn't he brought a torch or a lantern? A cold sweat broke on his brow and he swallowed back his fear. He was here--no going back.

Then the Bone Witch's daughter appeared, dark haired and dark eyed in a pale blue gown, and beckoned him on.

Edited at 2011-10-31 05:19 pm (UTC)
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Clint Harris
User: wendigomountain
Date: 2011-10-31 15:29 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
The hours trickled past, meted out by the voice of the river, the whisper of dead leaves in the trees. The rosy glow of dawn was met by its sister Dusk and still the blacksmith's boy had not come out of the cabin. No light appeared in the windows. No smoke trailed from the chimney. The girl flexed her hand around the handle of the knife, feeling the slickness of the sweat in her palm.

The door of the bone-witch's cabin swung in the breeze, the creak groan thump she had listened to all day. Then.
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User: eposia
Date: 2011-10-31 16:20 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
The lack of chimney-smoke; the moon-blessed gleam along the curved blade; the cryptic comments from her wolf brother; all these and more finally coalesced into understanding in Teara's mind. To destroy the Bone Witch, she would have to become the Witch. She sighed and prepared herself for the farewell to her remaining brother; they were past the point of tears now, but some words were still left unsaid.
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User: tippity
Date: 2011-10-31 20:35 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
A wave of thick spice-infused smoke rolled through the open doorway and across the wonderous front garden. Various creatures bounced and chittered out of its grasp and into the lavendar night. Teara stayed in the brush, rooted to the earth, waiting for her opportunity. The spices filled her senses and she began to dream of a happier time. A time when she came to this place with her brothers. A time when they spent carefree days playing in the wonderous garden and the future seemed as bright as the three suns overhead.
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User: amphigori
Date: 2011-10-31 22:09 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
A ring of bare-limbed trees circled the cabin, bearing witness to the scenes below. As the knife flashed quicksilver the wind howled in protest, causing the trees to sway. Skeletal branches clawed at the sky as if to tear the moon in half - the noise of it sounding unsettling like bones rattling together. But as the wind dropped, and the trees stopped their ghoulish dance, the sound only grew louder. Flashes of movement within the forest became visible, white figures lit silver when the moonlight hit them. They moved like drunkards, lurching and stumbling through shadow and over roots, moving ever-closer to the Bone Witch’s cabin…
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That Which Fights Entropy: nowhere
User: amberite
Date: 2011-11-02 12:00 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
The Bone Witch watches now from the glass-steel tower that was once a cabin, and remembers. Remembers when she was a long-limbed, death-eyed girl. Countless years have passed, since she was that girl, since she had a name. She remembers the silver that bathed the night.

Silver were the servants who shambled forth from the forest, who surrounded, all at once, the girl Teara where she hid in the dark of the garden. They grasped her, and bore her up - not with hands, but as if each of their whole bodies was a hand. Eyes set stray into their flesh as if spattered there, once hidden under leaves, gleamed under the moon's pale auspice. Teara's fear was a live thing bursting and straining in her, too enormous to pour out in a scream. Thus silenced, she found the hands strangely gentle, even as they were inescapable. And her own hands, and her own blade, were also just so inexorable. Forth, they went, into the cabin.

Silver was the moonlight, and silver the blade, and silver the light that poured out of the Bone Witch into the girl. Bright as terror, strange as love. And then the old witch was only bones.

The Bone Witch remembers how the dark-eyed daughter, pent seventeen years by her namelessness, beseeched her. A Teara left the cabin that night, joyful, running free as a fawn with her dark hair down; not the same Teara as had entered on the tide of eyes and hands.

But there is always a tithe in bones. And the wolfling brother and the blacksmith's boy, now within the bounds, could not both leave.
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That Which Fights Entropy: chaos
User: amberite
Date: 2011-11-02 12:03 (UTC)
Subject: (no subject)
(credit where credit is due: some inspiration taken from the music video for Bat For Lashes' "Daniel" - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00ZHah-c0hQ)
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