Multiple people writing a story, inspired by the same image generated by Stable Diffusion with a specific title prompt. Short deadline to write the story - submissions will be published on Sunday.
No discussion between the writers about how they've interpreted the image or where they're taking the story, to keep the joy of surprise and discovery.
Please comment or send email if you wish to participate!
There are no rules, this is just for fun.
To whoever reads this. Take it seriously. I hope this has reached you in time.
At first, like you, I thought I just needed to choose more oversized clothing. And I had enough of those, from my grunge phase. Big, roomy, plaid flannel shirts in the 'this may just come back into fashion' part of the closet.
Aivyne took her phone out of her jeans pocket, checked the time and noted that she should hurry to make it to work on time. Yet the forest whispered to her with the fresh earthy smells of moss and vines, of dew-covered soil and newly budded leaves. Mist was rising from the ground where the early morning sun caressed it. She put her phone back and gave it a pat on the outside of the pocket, to reassure it that she would be back soon.
Many ways to see the same picture, which was generated by AI. One week to write the story. Three author's versions.
“Thomas! Run!” Mary yelled, her legs on fire, pumping, pushing her further, faster. A shotgun bounced on her shoulder with every step.
I could see the shift starting and knew I only had another hour or so. Monsieur Jean pointed to the desk with the papers and Madame Francoise shifted on her chair, clutching her folder on her lap. He was unaware of the quarole descending on the lamp chain, so maybe that wasn't here or not here yet.
The stone beads in her inner pocket rolled smooth in her hand, warm being so close to her body. Her thumb traces the slight bump on Eskirous, the healing bead, to dab gently on a bruise or injury - but not an open wound! The oval shape of Laesha, the presage bead, slips between her fingers, pointing to the platform, clearly worried. Argos can feel the power radiate from her beads, wash over her skin as if wakutil slithered over her with its smooth naked skin, as they sometimes did when she was on her sleeping mat.
Howard, as usual, very much enjoyed this time of day. All the things that needed checking, had been duly checked. The mandatory exercises followed by somewhat less than optional health checks had been completed.
Gregory looked up from his books and moved his glasses to his forehead as Michael walked in and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Love, be honest, and admit that you will not meet the deadline! You might as well join me! I have a mulled wine simmering on the stove with some amazing brandy ready to be the bottom in your glass to be ... filled... by the wine" !
The siren song ebbs in and out, the undertow dislodging her thoughts. Adolphine runs her hand through her long red hair, attempting to rinse her mind. "This", she remembers, "this is the most dangerous part".
Her feet feel the soft sand underneath and she pauses, curling her toes in and out, the sand rushing through like an hour glass, passing the time. "I was here for a reason", she thinks, "what was that again...." The sand is so warm and so pleasant.
