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...?)
'Pardon me', interrupted one of the mystically inclined slimy literary agents, 'but you're missing a piece. You need a long sceptre to go with it, that is a sceptre measuring 1.93 metres with an average circumference of 10.5cm, made of oak with a density of .74 and a celtishy bit of flim flam on top, but you'll never find it mwah ha ha ha!'
Vanidy wurging on a weak head, produshesh every short a mishchiff. [Again: I take no responsibility for Ms. Austen’s punctuation.]
Hoomin naysher ish sho well dishpojed towardge thoje who are in innereshting shituayshuns, that a young persian, who either marriej or diej, or declarje hershelf queen, ish shure of being kinely shpoken of.
Shellfishnesh mush alwayje be forgiven you know, becauje there ish no hope of a cure.
Aisha held it in her hands, gazing at it triumphantly, wonderingly, even adoringly; then, slowly, with great dignity and awe, she turned it upside-down and placed it on her head.
“Bow down!” she ordered in an awe-inspiring voice, addressed – one supposes – at everyone within hearing. “Yea, fall on your knees before your rightful queen!"