The default setting in Q&As is "Recent". However, by clicking on "Popular", I came across this (the most popular thread ever on this forum, with 88 replies):
https://www.writersandartists.co.uk/question/view/192
It seems to have fizzled out some years ago, but I thought that I might revive the idea for a new generation of users on this forum.
NEW RULE: To prevent total hijacking, each entry may be a MAXIMUM of THREE (3) sentences!
Even when this thread disappears from the most recent page(s), please keep it in mind and return to it again and again. Let's see if we can write a novel-length work of beauty and originality! At least set a new record for thread length.
Obviously, styles will change. Genres may also do so. I will try my best to keep it from sliding into a Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter OR Twilight clone. (THAT's a gauntlet thrown down for some of you fanatics! This could be fun!)
p.s. If it's interesting, I'll ask others at La Gr@not@ if we can publish it. Prepare your CVs!!!
I'll begin:
*************************************
Aisha wiped the mud out of her eyes before plunging her head in the almost-freezing mountain stream.
"That Jon!" she muttered (filling her mouth with water, the rash girl), "He'll pay for this!"
Shaking her head caused myriad waterdrops to fly out from her long, red hair.
(to be continued...?)
But Mad Mountain Maggie was/is not a force to be ignored lightly... at least not by timid types such as I. (Victoria Fielding and Wilhelmina Lyre are made of stronger stuff.)
She threw a flying tackle (not to be confused with throwing fishing tackle, though I'm told that that can also be an effective way to bring somebody down) at Aisha (who obliged by going down) and bit her in the calf.
Keen readers of this saga (do we have any keen readers... any readers at all?) with a modicum of imagination and capacity for deduction will not be surprised to know that the lone henger who chose to follow in Aisha's wake was Mr. Ben Jonson (z). After all, Messrs. Abercrombie, Adams, and Carroll, and Miss Austen had all indulged in their own choice of mind-altering substances. Mr. Jonson felt that now it was his turn to bend reality.
'B****r this', exclaimed Aisha impatiently. 'To the pub, then', she announced to no-one specifically but presumably to the two nearby zombies and marched away at a brisk, unzombie-like pace with the stick/hat stand/ crown in one hand and scooping up the informative agent in the other in a no nonsense fireman's lift. Only one of the many assembled henge-goers was moved to follow the would be queen.