The writing game

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I got this from another forum it's a really great game. This is how you play:
So not sure if anyone is familiar with this one but I'll write a sentence and someone else will write what follows. Have fun with it (also great exercise). 8)

She swinging upside down on her bed and then...
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads only lives once
~George R. Martin

Life isn't about finding yourself; it's about recreating yourself. ~George B. Shaw

got yws?




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All of a sudden she hears a crashing sound coming from downstairs.
To be or not to be?
I choose not to be...~Inked :pirate3:




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She quickly gets up, listening carefully.
“You know a conjurer gets no credit when once he has explained his trick, and if I show you too much of my method of working, you will come to the conclusion that I am a very ordinary individual after all.”




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And then she stares into a gaping whole in the ceiling!
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads only lives once
~George R. Martin

Life isn't about finding yourself; it's about recreating yourself. ~George B. Shaw

got yws?




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A pair of orange eyes peer out from the hole.




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So the girl went into the hole to investigate.
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads only lives once
~George R. Martin

Life isn't about finding yourself; it's about recreating yourself. ~George B. Shaw

got yws?




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The hole was dark, and she had lost sight of the Orange eyes
“You know a conjurer gets no credit when once he has explained his trick, and if I show you too much of my method of working, you will come to the conclusion that I am a very ordinary individual after all.”




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The darkness swirled around her, and she heard a deep, rumbling sound, like a growl, from all around.
Dorian, are you the one adding all the spices to our food?
Of course I am.
Why?
Because frankly the food here tastes like poorly cooked sawdust. It genuinely tastes how Solas looks.




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She turned to see a panther, silent, stealthy and the color of indigo night.
Parlez-vous français?




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She gasped in amazement, yet fear, and grabbed the nearest object: a guitar.
the world is quiet here

Check out Squills!


she/her
previously EternalRain




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Her hand brushed the strings and the thrum overpowered the low roar of the panther... or did it silence it?




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"Well done, Giselle," a voice rumbled from all around.




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Her voice caught up in her throat, and she could not utter a word.
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads only lives once
~George R. Martin

Life isn't about finding yourself; it's about recreating yourself. ~George B. Shaw

got yws?




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"W-what exactly have I done well?" she stuttered after a moment, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Parlez-vous français?



I will not condemn you for what you did yesterday, if you do it right today.
— Sheldon S. Maye