Let's write a novel, Veeky Forums

One paragraph at a time

If you retards can go 30 paragraphs without completely derailing it, I'll record a dramatic reading of the story and post it.

>CHAPTER ONE

If there's one thing I've learned in all of my time on Veeky Forums, it's that everybody has an opinion, and you never know what is going to be under that (you).
That's two things, I know, but I just write like that, its a stream of consciousness kind of thing, you know?
People say some crazy stuff on this image board, but no amount of absurd opinion could have prepared me for what one anonymous poster replied to my thread. I'd seen it a million times before, but I'd never been on the receiving end, and reading it, I looked inward and saw it to be true.
That one faithful (you) that changed my life, brought me out of hiding and pain and compensation.
That one frightful sentence.
That one faint light invited me into the chasym of my psyche.
That one post;
"OP is a faggot"
"Fucking pseud"
OK, that's two posts, but I just write like that.

Two disgusting ugly niggers rolled up in their Jeep Cherokee in front of the mysterious mansion where they hoped to find their destiny. The niggers had recently discovered magic by experimenting with occult forces, and as a result they had radically reevaluated their nigger lifestyles. Neither was satisfied any longer with being a mere nigger. Jamal for his part was convinced that a great cosmic chain of being united all things, in a hierarchical emanation outward from God, and that to reascend the hierarchy and unlock their true potential they had first to become white, for their shit skin was nothing but the mark of evil, base matter. Trayquan sympathized with Jamal's esoteric mysticism and its baroque array of ivory-white angelic beings, but he was a materialist at heart. He too rejected his outward nigger form but only insofar as it masked the true potential that lay underneath, in man's true form: his skeleton.

So Trayquan saw it, that their newfound ideologies might find the same end, via same means.
They would both be bone white.
Trayquan had seen the face of god, not as ocular hallucinatory symbol or in his mind's eye, but in the form of the HIV virus ravaging his younger sister, Feliciaty'bae'nique, only 11 years old, and Jamal's girlfriend.
Such is how they had met.
Jamal was emaciated and a full blown AIDS patient by now, and with his new wisdom, Trayquan had connected the dots, countless on Jamal's right arm but only so far in the single digits on Feliciaty'bae'niques left.

kek

kek

bump next chapter please

Jamal looked down at his ribcage, at the pitted skin that tugged at his diaphragm every time he inhaled. If he focused he swore he could see the frantic and tuneless beat of his heart, weaker now, weaker now. The bones were close. He would be lifted out of his skin by white angels with wide white wings. It was some real nigga shit.

Trayquan looked at Jamal's ribcage, past the pitted skin that tugged at his diaphragm every time he inhaled.if he focused, he swore he could see the face of the devil, brittle boned and decaying now, decaying now. The bones were close, they would be lifted out of his skin by white angels. No coincidence Trayquan had applied to change his name by Deed Poll to Michael. No coincidence he and Jamal were there, now. The demon that had ravaged Trayquan's sister would be purged here, and so God might grant him the form he sought, rid of the desires of the flesh.
Rid of real shit niggas.

The door to the mysterious mansion where the one whomst'd've aided them in their quest to transcend, to leave behind their shit colored skin by tryst-or-by-wryst. What they saw before them blew their little nigger minds.

"Hey brothers! Welcome to my crib, haha.
Good news, since our chat on Craigslist I've come into some money, 288$ to be precise, so I've bought everything we need. Come on in, I'm cooking scrambled eggs, who says we can't eat breakfast for dinner! Certainly not my mum, because she's tied up in the basement, the bitch! Makes some damn good eggs though, it's a wonder what pharmaceuticals can do to delay menopause!"

(Dont fuck this up its john Greene)

>CHAPTER 2
There she stood on the doorway. A slender, curvaceous figure, with pearly white skin, wrapped in tight workout clothes. Her small innocent face was emphasized by the golden hair tied up tightly in a bun at the top of her head. "You guys are finally here", she said with a wide smile, "Elle Fanning, pleased to meet you. Come inside", she said, in an intonation that sounded like this last imperative could be understood as an invitation to creampie both her pink youthful pussy and her smooth little asshole.

I said dont fuck this up what the fuck is wrong with you. Garbage. We could have sacrificed john Greene in a ritual to turn two black men into spooky skeletons and you fucked it. Kill yourself

A man with the oddest eyes sat in front of the two men. His smile seemed disarming, and his shirt carried a faint smell of perfume.

"We are here for the thing. We want to become white," said Tray quantum. He noticed behind the man, a curious white girl with a brown ponytail. She appeared familiar, like he had just seen her. She crouched on the steps, eyeing the men with a sense of wariness.

"I know why you are here. I am Green. Come in, I'm setting up. Oh, Ms. Fanny, will you fetch the black boys some...milk, should be good, yes?"

"My last name is Fanning, not Fanny.Prick," said the girl.

"It's Fanny if I say it's Fanny," said Green. His eyes flared up, and then he looked at Jamal and Trayquan.

Jamal walked inside. He breathed in, relishing the chance to loosen his bones from the rotting core of his flesh, wrapped in Nigros skin. He wondered how soon ascendancy would occur. Would it hurt? No matter, he would be white.

Trayquan wondered why the girl looked familiar. Fanning...that name was familiar...

"Oh shiiiit! She's Dakota from that Push movie! The one where she played that girl who could see the future!" said Trayquan.

Jamal, still focused on the visions of becoming bone, muttered "And the evil vamp Volturi chick from New Moon. Man, Twilight was shit, but the concepts for powers were good."

"YA Fiction is usually shit," said Trayquan.

A loud hiss emanated from above them. They looked up, to see Green hissing at them. His shadow moved, and turned into a vaguely serpentine shape.

"I write YA Fiction," said Green.

Trayquan looked at the dead animals on the wall, the picture of people being tortured above the fireplace, and the 23 copies of "Fault in Your Stars" on the floor.

"I can tell," said Trayquan.

Fanning came back with pitches of milk.

"Are you the girl from Push?" asked Trayquan.

"No. I'm her sister, Elle. From the Neon Demon?" said Elle.

"Are. You were in Twixt. Good performance," said Jamal.

"Shit, I hired the wrong Fanny," said Green.

"May we begin?" asked Jamal. He had scratched a wound into his skin, anticipating a release from being a nigger.

"Yes. But first, are you interested in hearing a reading from my book?" said Green. His shadow danced on the walls.

Trayquan noticed the people in the painting were moving. They were shaking their heads.

"Yo,Jamal--" he started.

But Jamal had already said yes. And in the House of Green, your word is law.

>One paragraph at a time
>Writes 24 paragraphs

Nigger what

Said Trayquan

Sorry

Green smiled at them. Elle crouched behind him, hissing.

How can we write freely if cishets like you keep cuntblocking us?

and that's when i discovered the fetish that spelled my doom. This cute, pure, muslim girl wearing the hijab like it's indeed a gift of god, a hijab, implying that she has never been touched and does not seek the attention from men, the sexual desire.

I didn't cuntblock anything he tried to retcon my damn chapter

betwixt my thighs lay mine nethers long

Trayquan and Jamal looked at each other, confused.
- See, I read your book a few weeks ago and I don't remember nothing like that in it, you know what I mean? - said Jamal.
- The fuck is all this shit about muslim fetish and shit? That's just creepy, man. White people.
Trayquan seemed to forget that he himself was about to turn into one of those white people he shook his head at so frequently. Barely did he know that he was about to throw the weakest motherfucking whips and naenaes in his life, and if he knew that he was giving that up for the sole privilege of being part of the white race, he would have backed away.
But now he was in the House of Green, and it was too late. The deal was almost done.
Elle looked up from her phone, which she was fiddling with since Green started his reading and asked:
- So, do you want me to get the tome now, or...?
- Yes, do it. - said Green with a tone of hurt in his voice as Elle hastily stumbled to the back room. "These ungrateful niggers wouldn't know good prose and rich themes if they tasted like fried chicken and watermelon."
Not five seconds passed and Elle was back, carrying a dusty tome that seemed twice her weight. "Alright, now this", continued Gree, "this is an ancient tome, passed down in my family, which contains the ancient ritual that turns black people white."
She clumsily threw the tome in the floor in front of them, and the leatherbound cover swung open, revealing the title: "The Cuckholdry Rituals".

(Apologies for formating, I'm on phone)

Dude that's some nice follow-up considering you had only the title to go with.