Let's write a story

[Representing_Tromba]

Sorry, wasn't sure whether to put this in writing prompts or community games

The rules are simple,

• Each person may write 1 paragraph(3-12 sentences)
• You must continue by quoting the last paragraph posted. If there is an accidental deviation, it will be considered a branch paragraph that may continue independently of the rest of the story as an alternative route. Anyone may add to the branch routes so long as they follow the other rules.
• Sexually explicit content(smut, porn, etc.) is not permitted.
• All other content is permitted so long as it does not break the rules of the SHF.
• Pictures, links, and external sources will not be accepted(unless fitting to the story).
• Do not harass anyone for taking the story in a different direction than what you wanted. Just battle it out in the paragraphs.

I will start with a small paragraph. Have fun. Once enough paragraphs have been submitted, I will make some spelling, minor grammar, and formatting changes to match the whole before releasing it as a new story.

Spoiler: To Begin

A lone forest of willows and thorns with a cool spring flowing from its center sat in the vibrant grass and grain hills of Ivanturestia. For those said to drink from its waters were the descendants of heroes, wielding inhuman powers of magic, muscle, and weapon according to their kind. War and conquest destroyed the lands of the spring over time, leaving only a small trickle remaining. As a result, the remaining water has been kept by monks, granting the empowering water to those the public deems worthy of wielding such power. Under the rising moon, the pump flows, bringing devastation and life, death, and creation; This our hero, or destroyer, is born anew.

 

[HelloHound]

A lone forest of willows and thorns with a cool spring flowing from its center sat in the vibrant grass and grain hills of Ivanturestia. For those said to drink from its waters were the descendants of heroes, wielding inhuman powers of magic, muscle, and weapon according to their kind. War and conquest destroyed the lands of the spring over time, leaving only a small trickle remaining. As a result, the remaining water has been kept by monks, granting the empowering water to those the public deems worthy of wielding such power. Under the rising moon, the pump flows, bringing devastation and life, death, and creation; This our hero, or destroyer, is born anew.

The monks have carefully guarded the water for generations, leaving it unspoiled save for a short period of time when a particular enterprising individual used the sacred waters for a liquor that's coveted beyond belief. The liquor, dubbed the "holier water" is jealously guarded and sought after, with many saying that a single drop could make a man a mansion. Greedy individuals often attempt to infiltrate the monks for access to the water but none have succeeded. With rumors of the hero's spring drying up the competition is fiercer than ever.

 

[Vikass17]

That's monopoly. You made the post and you wrote the first paragraph too.

 

[xuduxixi]

The monks have carefully guarded the water for generations, leaving it unspoiled save for a short period of time when a particular enterprising individual used the sacred waters for a liquor that's coveted beyond belief. The liquor, dubbed the "holier water" is jealously guarded and sought after, with many saying that a single drop could make a man a mansion. Greedy individuals often attempt to infiltrate the monks for access to the water but none have succeeded. With rumors of the hero's spring drying up the competition is fiercer than ever.

One of these people, willing to contribute to the competition, was a boy marred by tragedy. He was young, but his soul was as weary as that of an old man. Abandoned by the world, he wished to change his fate by drinking the rumored water. Still, this dream of his was only a light in his darkness, and he never knew that an accident would arise, starting his turbulent fate.

 

[ThrillingHuman]

One of these people, willing to contribute to the competition, was a boy marred by tragedy. He was young, but his soul was as weary as that of an old man. Abandoned by the world, he wished to change his fate by drinking the rumored water. Still, this dream of his was only a light in his darkness, and he never knew that an accident would arise, starting his turbulent fate.

"Courting death!", said one of the monks who found the little boy trying to infiltrate, raising his hand
The boy closed his eyes, awaiting a fatal strike. Yet, he was perplexed when all he felt was a gentle pat of a course old hand, "Do you not know that these waters are deadly to those as frail as yourself?"
The boy opened his eyes in surprise and found himself in a completely different place

 

[ATTICLover]

"Courting death!", said one of the monks who found the little boy trying to infiltrate, raising his hand
The boy closed his eyes, awaiting a fatal strike. Yet, he was perplexed when all he felt was a gentle pat of a course old hand, "Do you not know that these waters are deadly to those as frail as yourself?"
The boy opened his eyes in surprise and found himself in a completely different place

It was hell. Not just any other hell. It is hell made from strings, threading a crimson singularity that is shaped as a red spider lily. The threads of this beautiful flower are forged from amalgamation of tendons and muscles, breathing and twisting, yet gentle. At each path, there goes sinners that crosses the gate of giant needles that reflects the world of their history as a mirror. "Did I die?" Trembling and in awe, the little boy look at the mirror gate of the needle where he saw that the monk actually killed him! Thinking he was just giving lesson, and is now in panicking in the surface world. Desperate at waking him but in vain.

 

[Santaisblue]

It was hell. Not just any other hell. It is hell made from strings, threading a crimson singularity that is shaped as a red spider lily. The threads of this beautiful flower are forged from amalgamation of tendons and muscles, breathing and twisting, yet gentle. At each path, there goes sinners that crosses the gate of giant needles that reflects the world of their history as a mirror. "Did I die?" Trembling and in awe, the little boy look at the mirror gate of the needle where he saw that the monk actually killed thinking he was just giving lesson, and is now in panicking in the surface world. Desperate at waking him but in vain.

Attempting to cool his heating head the boy placed his palms on his forehead, yet he felt solid protrusions on it. Curious, he looked around himself and saw a pool of boiling crimson blood in the dirt and started walking over. Once he reached the edge of the pool he looked in and saw himself in all his glory, the same except for a crown of bones climbing from his skin, shocked, he backed away in fright at the revelation. His fright was shortlived before transforming into fury. The boy looked back and cursed the old man's name in anger, cursing him to the tenth generation.

 

[Cipiteca396]

Attempting to cool his heating head the boy placed his palms on his forehead, yet he felt solid protrusions on it. Curious, he looked around himself and saw a pool of boiling crimson blood in the dirt and started walking over. Once he reached the edge of the pool he looked in and saw himself in all his glory, the same except for a crown of bones climbing from his skin, shocked, he backed away in fright at the revelation. His fright was shortlived before transforming into fury. The boy looked back and cursed the old man's name in anger, cursing him to the tenth generation.

"Forget your petty grudge, child. I have a task for you." The voice rang out, shocking him. He looked around for the source, but saw nothing. Not until it spoke again, at least. The very threads that formed this realm seemed to quake around him, letting out a soft, deep sound like the chords of some instrument. "The spring was meant for all, but it has nearly vanished due to greed and spite... You must restore it. Train with the monks, learn their ways... Then drink from the waters once you can survive its power. We will speak again." With that, the boy startled to awareness, suddenly finding the old monk looking down at him with concern. He reached up to feel for the bones on his forehead, but felt nothing except dread.

 

[LesserCodex]

"Forget your petty grudge, child. I have a task for you." The voice rang out, shocking him. He looked around for the source, but saw nothing. Not until it spoke again, at least. The very threads that formed this realm seemed to quake around him, letting out a soft, deep sound like the chords of some instrument. "The spring was meant for all, but it has nearly vanished due to greed and spite... You must restore it. Train with the monks, learn their ways... Then drink from the waters once you can survive its power. We will speak again." With that, the boy startled to awareness, suddenly finding the old monk looking down at him with concern. He reached up to feel for the bones on his forehead, but felt nothing except dread.

The monk was taught the ways of peace, violence was always a final resort, the young man who attempted to steal had frozen as he went to strike, 'trauma,' the monk froze. He saw a reflection of his former self when the young thief curled. It was not uncommon for them to adopt strays, many attempted to fool their eyes to see a steal from the hero spring but all failed, others changed their ways and became great pillars of the monastery.
Seeing himself in the lad he held back and spoke, "Do you have a place to go boy?"

 

[Representing_Tromba]

That's monopoly. You made the post and you wrote the first paragraph too.

Had to start somehow. I tried making it as vague as possible .

 

[Representing_Tromba]

The monk was taught the ways of peace, violence was always a final resort, the young man who attempted to steal had frozen as he went to strike, 'trauma,' the monk froze. He saw a reflection of his former self when the young thief curled. It was not uncommon for them to adopt strays, many attempted to fool their eyes to see a steal from the hero spring but all failed, others changed their ways and became great pillars of the monastery.
Seeing himself in the lad he held back and spoke, "Do you have a place to go boy?"

The boy, stained in dirt, pitch, and soot stood as firm as his tiny body could. "No, sir," he answered with an obstinant gaze at the monks, not meant to express disrespect but rather, his resting face, forced upon him by his upbringing. The ragged clothes, sewn poorly and unskillfully by any parent's degree, flapped against his skinny legs.

 

[melchi]

"Well, you are welcome to join us here as an acolyte." The monk reached into his robes and pulled out a banana. ?"Are you interested in forsaking the ways of man and returning to Monke?"

The boy looked around in confusing. Apparently this was a monke of monke and they were standing on the holy shrine of monke. A quick look around gave that away. Most of the trees growing in the yard were of the yellow fruit bearing kind.

"Um. Sir?" The boy spoke quietly.