I'll give a challenge to the first person to reply 'truth' or 'dare'. When they've completed it, they give a challenge to the next person who posts 'truth' or 'dare.' Let's keep it writing related, since we all have that in common, but have fun with it. Hopefully it goes without saying, but no challenges that would require mod attention. For example, a truth might be, "Who on the forum would you choose to be stuck in a lift/elevator with?", which is fine. Not fine would be, "Who annoys you most on the forum?" Or a dare might be, "Write a sex scene and post it in erotica." But not, "Go to the erotica section of the workshop and make fun of somebody's work." OKAY, BORING BITS OVER! Who'll play?
Oh crap, now I actually have to think of one?! Okay... Is there a book you love that you don't want anyone to know you love? If so, what is it?
It was a pretty boring question. I should have thought this through before posting the thread. MAKE MY GAME FUN, GUYS. All yours, @halisme
Oh, I feel like a terrible parent... but it will have to be Lazarus. He's a wimp who doesn't get on and do anything. Half the time he doesn't even have a reason. He may just be terribly developed, I don't know. He's just bad. To the point that other people get hurt because he's such a wimp.
Er, I was hoping someone would say truth again. I dare you to write a haiku about anger, but try to make it as serious as possible (I can only write silly ones).
Hey, I'm new, shy, and needed a challenge so a dare seemed like a good first step. So, here's a haiku about anger: That red flower bloom; A sudden flash in a field - She speaks and regrets.
(In the most adorable Death Metal growl ever) Damn dog always chasin' me Treating me like a little flea I will not put up with this The canine I will resist Not your chew toy Fido Why you chase me I don't know One day you will regret Chasing me you doofy shit
Rock&Roll Kittens Heights. I've tried to face it and do things that push me, but I always get a sinking feeling and sweaty palms. Every. Single Time.
While on rainy days, all the other children would watch TV and I would pace around the table in the living room like a wild animal, listening to records over and over again, thinking about my own stories, transferring myself elsewhere. My writing habit is merely an excuse for giving a reason of existence for this alternate reality and for it to gain a meaning. Communication reasons. As the years went by, it simply grew a tad darker.
Hm... I dare you to write a flash fiction about what's going on in the mind of a psycho-killer in love. The max limit is 5 lines.
I sat outside her window trying to remember if she'd told me she loved me or it was just a dream. I watched her undress from behind the Texas sage in her front yard. Her husband was there, blocked the view for a bit, but he is no longer of consequence. I crept closer to the window and saw the mole next to the navel of my love. She must have seen me; she ran screaming to the other room and all I could hear was, "Hunny! Call the cops! He's got his dick in his hand again tonight!"