Write a short story and I will tell you if you are a good or bad writer

Write a short story and I will tell you if you are a good or bad writer.

From /sp/'s great janitor calamiter of last year

For sale: Janitor. Butthurt. Never paid.

Bad. You would have been expecting me to say good because you insulted the Veeky Forums janitor. This shows how immature and undeveloped your mind is.

The life we, and others lived, started to bore him visibly, and depressed him. I however, did not take note; though I sometimes observed his attentive-earnest stare directed at me, I never realized what it meant.
gotta cut it short already, have shit to do

it wasnt good...

>this reply

Bad. You have taken seriously a mediocre piece of satire which I posted for the sole purpose of wasting space in your thread, diverting from the core topic of this thread, and irritating you.

>death
>by all accounts
>I should be
>deader than dead
>which is very alive
>or just very dead
>alternates
>a crack in reality
>I'm closer to the "me's" out there
>sometimes I swear
>they know I'm watching
>as confused as me
>sometimes I'm them
>living their lives
>and then I die
>only to awake
>though sometimes
>inspiring dreams
>dying of happiness
>I awake again
>somebody is watching
>I know
>it's me
>who I am?
>call me...
>...Schrodinger
>because for all I know
>I shouldn't be here
>or am I now?
>you never know

another one, felt somewhat inspired yesterday, second time posting here:

>the prey runs from the hunter
>who runs for the prey
>to tomorrow they go
>at a borrowed pace
>for they run on grounds
>that no matter who falls
>big or small
>they're both on earth


Because meme arrows make everything better
>impling it doesn't

I don't know what I'm doing to be honest, senpai

I am in my mother’s room. It’s I who live there now. I don’t know how I got there. Perhaps in an ambulance, certainly a vehicle of some kind. I was helped. I’d never have got there alone. There’s this man who comes every week. Perhaps I got here thanks to him. He says not. He gives me money and takes away the pages. So many pages, so much money. Yes, I work now, a little like I used to, except that I don’t know how to work any more. That doesn’t matter apparently. What I’d like now is to speak of the things that are left, say my good-byes, finish dying. They don’t want that. Yes, there is more than one, apparently. But it’s always the same one that comes. You’ll do that later, he says. Good. The truth is I haven’t much will left. When he comes for the fresh pages he brings back the previous week’s. They are marked with signs I don’t understand. Anyway I don’t read them. When I’ve done nothing he gives me nothing, he scolds me. Yet I don’t work for money. For what then? I don’t know.

>these are the people who criticize authors like DFW

For sale: One condom. Never used.

yep, that was Tolstoy

>tfw noone on here actually has any idea about literature and everybody's just pretending.

H-hey guys, I don't even know whatan DFW, i've never even visted this board, the only books I know are from Skyrim

I put my dick inside her butt. It was ok. I had higher expectations, but it was ok. Maybe it's because I had a condom on. My dick also wasn't into it - after a few more thrusts, it got nearly flaccid. I pulled it out. The condom remained inside her butt. She took it out with her hand, and proposed we do it like we always did. I didn't really feel like it, but I decided to take one for the team. She got off the bed and went to open the closet. I took my usual position - on my knees and butt up. I waited patiently for her to put on her equipment. Just then, a sudden noise startled me. I woke up. It was the sound of my mother pulling apart the curtains on my window. 'Hide your boner, you freak' she said to me in a harsh tone. Quickly I came to my senses. Turns out I wasn't having sex at all... Actually I've never had sex at all. LOL

reads pretty well desu

was sam beckett boy the nobel prize winner

this is some of the funniest shit on Veeky Forums right now.

And also, apparently, the only thing with merit.

>I looked behind me. Her eyes were shiny; she was looking at me. I looked forward. I turned my neck again, her eyes still locked in my direction. The world must have been beautiful to her, with those two blue crystals embedded in marshmallows.

and number 2

>
“Kill yourself Earthling!” the huge octopus-like brain commanded. Its long, thick, purple tentacles flapped restlessly. “You are worthless!” “You will never amount to anything.” Its high pitched, echoic voice hurt the human’s ears. “Life is only suffering. You know that deep down you truly want to end it all, but are too cowardly to go through with it. Don’t fret, once it is over, you do not have to withstand life’s torment anymore.”
Each sentence the monster said, although it hurt, ringed true to the human’s ears. As consequence, his mental health was diminishing rapidly, as if each word slashed a piece of his self-confidence.

As we walked along the flatblock marina, I was calm on the outside, but thinking all the time. So now it was to be Georgie the general, saying what we should do and what not to do, and Dim as his mindless greeding bulldog. But suddenly I viddied that thinking was for the gloopy ones and that the oomny ones use, like, inspiration and what Bog sends. For now it was lovely music that came to my aid. There was a window open with the stereo on and I viddied right at once what to do.

I'd like to read some more of the second one.

>Don't fret
what do you think about 'do not'?

>Bix Nood!
He yelled at me in his monkey language. I merely sighed. A knife glinted in his dark palm. Warm fluid streamed down my crotch. I died. He was sent to jail.

oh my god, please continue this!

I really wanted to choke that man. It seemed to be the best action I could think of. But it really didn't match my character, the image that I so desperately tried to maintain. No, I simply didn't care enough that day to send that man to his death.

I just had one enemy. Well, two if you counted god.

Holy...

I woke up in the strangest of places. I'm in some kind of empty room with a computer that's turned on. A webcam window pops up and I see a strange face. It's the worst of all horrors, even the ones that Lovecraft himself wrote about. It's Hillary Clinton fingering herself and begging for votes. "What the fuck?" I asked myself. Luckily enough, there it was, a cure to my troubles. Behind the monitor there was a rope. I quickly set it up and hang myself. The rope was
How terrible was it?

Peter woke up from his deep slumber, and rolled over to his right, only to see his own mother. "WHAT?!" Peter said. "What?" peter's mom said. "MOM?!" peter said. "Peter?" Peter's mom said. then suddenly, peters dad came into the room, and suddenly said. "PETER?!" Peter then said. "DAD?!" Then suddenly Peter's mom jumped out of bed and she said. "Oh you boys!" Then suddenly Peter woke up. It was all a dream.

You mean like this?

"Do not fret..."

Yeah I that was a mistake using a contraction. I didn't put any thought it in it, I just wanted to see if my grammar was good or if it needs improving. I really want to write good prose.

I mean, I would, but he died. What would I do?

>tfw when you bare your heart to Veeky Forums and they just internal joke around you with their pretentious alien lingo

A comedy about someone from the nu-right understanding and coming to terms with the fact they are actually a transsexual

'Ha!' The man sneered, as he bounded over another trailer house. The balloons supporting his nearly weightless leaps jiggled, much like the chortling midwesterners below.

'Dreamless slaves! They looked down upon me then, but now... well! Well!'

He landed again, gauged his next trajectory, hard to see in the sunlight. Were those powerlines ahead? The laughing, sunburnt, faces, shiny with fat and sweat, hemmed him in. Could he make the jump? No, that was irrelevant now. He couldn't not, now.

Made me chuckle. I wonder how long ago hillary stopped allowing others into her vagina

Pretty good.

O - The plight of the working class negro - A tale so oft unheard and equal misunderstood, and you know, he who is malcomprenant shall later himself resee.

"I like nothing" Cries he - I, I grieve the loss of the fricative, o you fallen friend! - walking into his house and plopping himself on his working class negro couch, his apartment smelling of negro oils and other assorted summer scents. He took a tissue.

I have a reccomendation for you

A boy falls in love with a girl.

Unable to confess, he is gifted with by a deus ex machina with the girl's phone number. Never minding the strange area code, he immediately calls her, and is overjoyed to find out that she has a crush on him as well.

But, the next day, when he recounts the previous day's confessions to the girl, she only looks at him with a perplexed expression. After some investigation, he finds out that the girl he called is not the same girl he fell in love with. In fact, she doesn't exist in this universe at all. She is the girl's alternate universe counterpart, who has fallen in love with the MC's own AU self, who too is blissfully unaware of her crush.

Hijinks ensue as the two strike up a deal to give each other their darkest, most private secrets in order to equip the other with the weapons they need to conquer the heart of their other selves. While the two chase their respective loved ones, DRAMA ensues as they begin to fall in love with each other instead and question the NATURE of LOVE.

k.

Hate - a word oft uttered by him - a word that defined his idiolect, that permeated his every thought, that was his vernacular (although he much hated this word). There were many things he hated: The old Hebrews, the new Hebrews; Females, men with unfaithful wives, unfaithful wives (although I admit this might to him be grouped in "Females"); Casual sexual relations, requiring female consent to engage in intercourse, Feminism (which, as you should know, caused the decline of the Roman Empire - O Roma - Deleta a feminismo!); Immigrants (although only the Africans and the Musulmans), Islam, and sometimes Israel; And hate too - A new hate - is where our story begins.

"I hate myself"

He stared at his penis (or as the anonymes would it call - his benis), it, in his mind, flowering, blossoming as it did in his dreams, although in truth it rested dongy. And dongy he willed it. He knew if it bloomed, he'd be one of them, and they, as his favorite forums told him, were the worst of the worst, they - the birthers of destruction, the engenderers of degeneracy - would destroy the west.

-hey guys, have u ever felt like a grl?
-no.
-sometimes, though that's gay as shit desu
-faggot degenerate
-I guess

He ran to his living room, fat pink mast raise-ed
"Mom, I am a woman!"
Mother screams I am mother
Woman screams I am fertile
and the father, he can't yell.

Holy...I want more.....

Holy... I want more...

t-thank

>And dongy he willed it

perfection.

This is bait

There was one enemy left. Four if you counted G-d.

nice can reference hahah i got that

This is the first paragraph of my new short story "The Bitch." Let me know what y'all think. I want to be a writer professionally.

Fog again. It comes across the moor like jelly spread on a sandwich. It will be difficult keeping pace with our quarry. She is fast, she knows the grounds as well as we. Perhaps better. We've lost two men already to the bogbodies. They nearly gutted Daryl last night, but that bastard's quick with his buzzknife. I get the feeling sometimes, when the fog curls around the black iron trees like this, that she is never more than a few hundred feet ahead. Watching us. Keeping track of our movements and leading us into a new trap. She's only a little girl, but we've seen evidence of intelligence. The bramble snares, the shallow depressions in the mud meant to trip us, the faintly burning campfires to attract us and the bogbodies to the same spot. She has a lot of blood to answer for. And I intend to bring her back covered in it. The bitch.

>It comes across the moor like jelly spread on a sandwich.

You you ever even used jelly in real life? It's nothing at all like fog. Better not to use similes if you're not up for it.

>as well as we

Bad, middlebrow grammar. Should be "as well as us".

>but that bastard's quick with his buzzknife.

Edgy af

>a few hundred feet ahead. Watching us.

Don't try to write like the narrator in the opening scene of a movie, Christ. This is such a red flag in any writer.

>She's only a little girl, but we've seen evidence of intelligence

All little girls have intelligence, unless their mothers had zika or something.

I've read worse on Veeky Forums but this is pretty bad.

>as well as us

She knows the grounds as well as us know the grounds????

I don't think that paragraph was good but don't give critiques if you're a fucking retard lmao you'll only encourage him

>She knows the grounds as well as us know the grounds

But that's not what he said you mouth-breather.

Chaucer would have said "as well as us". The "as well as we" is an artificial invention of rationalizing grammarians in the 18th century.

That's the logic of the sentence you inveterate boob.

When you make a comparison the pronoun is a subject not an object. He knows as well as I know. She does things better than we do things. I have a better grasp on grammar than you have a grasp on grammar.

Why would you dig yourself deeper into this hole? Just admit you were wrong and move on. I know it's embarrassing but you're anonymous. You don't have to be sad. For all I know you wrote that bullshit about the fogjelly and then replied to it yourself. You are both on about the same level of writing.

implying you can single out one line from a great work and it will stand alone as a great sentence. i could just as easily say wardine be cry is bad

Yeah, but that's only if the comparison has a verb in the thing being compared (e.g "I can do it as well as he can" v "I can do it as well as him").

also don't try rationalizing grammar.

I'd publish you.

>She knows the grounds as well as we
>knows

Hey user, what's that funny little word there? What is it? Is it an adjective? Noooo. Is it a pronoun? Noooo. Is it a gerund? Nooooooooo.

Is it a verb?

Dingdingding.

The sentence was correct as it was. You were smug, it backfired, you are both terrible writers.

I alone am the king of Veeky Forums. Hahaha.

it goes in the oblique case u shit

For sale baby shoes; slightly worn

For sale: baby shoes; semen stains.

Goddamn Veeky Forums is overrun with reddit plebs. Since you've never read anything written before 1970:

"I have a wife, pardie, as well as thee" - Miller's Tale Prologue

"I wot as well as thee, it is no dread" - Wife of Bath's Prologue

"Eke every wight knows this as well as me" - Wife of Bath's Tale

"Ye have a manne's shape as well as me" - Friar's Tale

"And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thee." - Hamlet

What do you want me to tell you? Neither of those men have doctorates. Both of them are wrong to use object pronouns. Do you have any rationale for using us instead of we?

here is my free-form poetic short story, please do not be too harsh it is very avant garden it's about rape culture and how black lives matter

pboh deur7 whuteii woemn nhe shjueiti goidjod dsihuayhjmk njiqawga ewttd klweaan yoiuj9lo cvgowpeoirds oodihnt wdven snejmoke cvhrabcjk afahbnj\ nujiqga iuouene detfyg gyuio oyoupt hngtyo bvgett dssyjum P[[OUS=AYUIOY kljhe ftgyuijnka bbehtich jhueijnm dtey 8e9tiwu9th nbgrygde nopopul nemenhr sdfgehjkrt ddwoerkjnn dnemnfj dyde HWEIJUHITE=DEIODSFEVIOLE koiujme kjoiullyagyh gnjiqghjja pboh thyweh op[roijnce ypoiuf bhejk=aghjioir

"Your wings... I can see them now"

Her big blue eyes, deep and terrible like the ocean, opened wide. A single tear rolled past her cheek as she bit her lip with grief. She looked more beautiful than ever, vulnerable.

"So you know what I am."

"Succubus" I replied calmly.
"Just tell me... did you kill my brother? Was it you all along?"

She took a step forward, her ethereal black wings opening menacingly around her petite frame. I swallowed what felt like a pint of saliva. Never in a million years I imagined I would be scared of cute, girly Meredith, looking as innocent as ever in her short black skirt and with a blue bowtie on her hair.

But I was scared. My heart was racing, my ears were pounding. My body was frozen, with the fight-or-flee instict active and tightening around all my muscles.

"Y-you don't understand", she cried.
"I was in love with your brother, I would never hurt him."

"There is a war going on for Earth.
A celestial Operation Barbarossa so to speak. There are many creatures fighting a covert war for the souls of mankind. And then there's us, the rebels, drafted into this war against our will. But the other side doesn't make distinctions."

"Your brother understood. He loved me for who I am. He protected me from those trying to deport me back".

She broke down crying, as if a dam had broken inside her mind. She didn't look so threatening anymore, but again like my old childhood friend, the Meredith I've known since I was 6 years old.

I felt the urge to hug her. To protect her little frail body in my embrace.

Heart and mind fought a tug of war in my head. Muscles, brain and emotions divided in a miasma of confusion.

Was it a trick? Could she really feel emotions or was she it just clever mimicry from a merciless predator from the void? I struggled to remind myself that the creature before me was not human.

But she continued...
"You don't know what it's like back there. I love your world. They call themselves angels but they are not willing to forgive us. Our punishment is eternal, and covering generations. You Humans are so lucky. He loves you so much, you are the only creatures in existance that He is willing to forgive."

For sale: booby shoes, AKA "bra"

>dyde
You almost spelled a word there. 2/10

I appreciated how your main character doesn't smoke, it made him relatable

everything typed was based upon a word you white man

here's another, describing the ideological travels of a brother but with lucid words this time:

white people are evil
white people are bad
white people are the devil
white people make me mad
he is shaming you for not smoking crack, actually.

Yeah, so what you're saying is people who know their shit would have said it's not enough presented for judgement?

And hacks would have said it's no good out of principle?

For sale: OP shoes. Never straight.

Yes, it's a dumb "gotcha" thing, but these threads are inherently retarded in the first place so the people who post them deserve it.

the blue towel
is only used to cover
the lizards eyes
at night

it tries so hard to gain ground on styrofoam rock ledges

sometimes it reaches the top
to bask in the yellow light of the heating bulb
other times it falls into a plastic tub filled with water
where it usually tries to shit.

What the fuck is this?
Utter shit.

CIA MAN

FIRST ONE TO TALK GETS TO STAY ON
MY AIRCRAFT! (Cocks weapon.)

SO...WHO PAID YOU TO GRAB DR.

PAVEL?!


Nothing. CIA Man fires out the open door and the Special
Forces yank Hooded Man 1 back in, clubbing him quiet.

CIA MAN

HE DIDN'T FLY SO GOOD! WHO WANTS TO

TRY NEXT?!


The Soldiers grab Hooded Man 2, hang him out the door.

CIA MAN

TELL ME ABOUT BANE! WHY DOES HE

WEAR THE MASK?!


The prisoner says nothing. CIA Man presses the gun to the
man's hood - he cocks the gun...nothing.

CIA MAN

LOT OF LOYALTY FOR A HIRED GUN!
THIRD PRISONER (O.S.)
Or he's wondering why someone would
shoot a man before throwing him out
of an aeroplane.


CIA Man turns to the Third Prisoner. Shuts the cargo door.

CIA MAN
Wiseguy, huh? At least you can
talk. Who are you?
THIRD PRISONER
We are nothing. We are the dirt
beneath your feet. And no one cared
who I was until I put on the
mask...


CIA Man, wary, approaches the Third Prisoner - pulls off his
hood, revealing a dark mask with a breathing apparatus. The
eyes behind it are cold. Still. This is Bane.

4.
BANE
Who we are does not matter. What
matters is our plan.

CIA MAN

(FASCINATED)
If I pull this off, will you die?

BANE
It would be extremely painful.
CIA MAN
You're a big guy -

BANE
For you.

This is too flawless to be original

>says it's shit
>gets called out

>"You can't even say anything about it in that length!"

>Except that it's shit, apparently.

The Johnsons had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and
their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't
think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Jacksons. Mrs.
Jacksons was Mrs. Johnson's sister, but they hadn't met for several years;
in fact, Mrs. Johnson pretended she didn't have a sister, because her
sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unJohnsonish as it was
possible to be. The Johnson shuddered to think what the neighbors would
say if the Jacksons arrived in the street. The Johnson knew that the
Jacksons had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy
was another good reason for keeping the Jacksons away; they didn't want
Thaddeus mixing with a child like that.