For people who like to write stories, this is your thread. Post stories here and others can yell you what they think.

Umm...does this count?

http://forum.toribash.com/showpost.p...postcount=2622

Whilst it is I like to spin a good yarn about the pastures and hills of a forgotten time, buried under the soils of time and the parchments of history; I cannot help but wonder just one little thing... why bother with this. Critiquing should not be don't by a bunch of prepubescent children. Or by Alan, seriously, you don't want that.

On occasion, when anyone thought they'd be creative and write something, they'd usually stick it in Art with [LIT] tags.
literature never really receives much attention though, and individual threads on the topic die pretty quickly.

Feel free to use the art board for all things literature

'Twas a fine afternoon sun tickling my face as I lay back upon soft grass. Butterflies and daises beautified my surroundings and a sense of calming accomplishment filled my chest.
However, when I woke up, I was standing within a prison cell. Four grey walls, a solid as fuck door and a window made pointless by a plank of wood covering the entirety of it.
I felt a mess. My shaven head throbbed and my right shoulder sported a dull ache. I looked down at my boring, prison attire and wished, oh how I wished, to wear casual clothes again. I was pining for some fresh air, a run, maybe an ice cream in warm weather. The beach and the water, splashing along with hundreds of happy people.

But no. There was me and then there was this prison cell. It wasn't a mistake or anything predictable like that. It was more a spur of the moment kind of thing.

What happened was, I was travelling slowly down the main road of my home town in my beat up toyota van when I come across a few friends chillin on the corner. So I park my car, get my cigarettes and walk towards them. Of course, I had my gun tucked safely (reassuringly) in my pants, just in case. It was a rough area.

"Yo, Big Al, what's going on homeslice?" JL was as fresh as it gets. Slicked back cornrows, buttoned up blue shirt and a pair of suave slacks to compliment. Not to mention the airforce ones he racked last week and they...looked...DOPE.
"Ayo JL, not much bigs, just cruisin through town an' thought I'd say whaddup to you crackers" I replied in a jovial manner. My hopes for having something to do today were finally becoming reality.
"Motherfucker, who you callin a cracker ehahehah" Shorts was a strange one. His laugh was broken and scattered, with a face to match. His clothes unkempt and shoes in pieces. But if it weren't for this, he wouldn't be my homie shorts. Just how it is.


Ah, I can't be fucked. This what I get for having three hours between lectures. I'm bored.

i would suggest an organization, instead of an offtopic thread