Hi, I wrote a 5 minute story for Elissa haha. It’s 5am, cut me some slack. Feedback please. http://www.flickr.com/photos/capellevaughn/4713701246/in/photostream
There’s an elephant in the clouds. People say elephants can’t fly. But this one can.
Hi! I wrote another story for elissa, to go with this picture: http://www.flickr.com/photos/capellevaughn/3400264162/in/photostream
Feedback please! I know it’s awful :)
He was slimy. He was smelly. Sometimes, he ate garbage. Well, perhaps you’re slimy and smelly, and perhaps sometimes you eat garbage. But also, he lived in a lake and he was green. He was everything people didn’t want him to be. Even his name was awful. It was Hyphen. On assignment day, the big monsters that pushed to the front got all the cool names, like “Cerberus” and “Fafnir.” He’d gotten Hyphen. “Because you look like a Slash, but it’s been taken,” the woman with the clipboard had told him. Then they had dropped him off, alone, into a lake in Montana.
First, he had to learn to swim. This became apparently immediately, as he was sinking in the lake. Luckily, it turned out he could breathe underwater, as he was a monster and the ability to breathe underwater is standard monster feature. Unfortunately, knowing how to make friends is not a standard monster feature. Hyphen tried anyway.
The Girl Who Ate Stories
You know the drill. I write an awful story and loose my train of thought (there was going to be a, well, plot, once… but I forgot it by the time I got there) and say fuck it, I’m tired, around 1am, you tell me what’s wrong with it and I fix it, then it goes in me & elissa’s cool zine and I give you lots of cookies :). Thanks in advance <3. Here’s the picture. http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l5vz17CLTS1qbjwh4o1_500.jpg
I found her at the end of the star trail.
Her pages were stuck together, neglected under the dripping refrigerator. Her cover bore the rancid stench of orange juice and moldering garlic. Her words were barely legible below a myriad of coffee stains. Maggots crawled around her edges like boils on a dying queen’s face.
For this one: http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l1vtntw6bJ1qbjwh4o1_500.jpg
Another twenty minute story for Elissa. It needs a moral, and a new last few lines, and I need to make the 17 years more important, but I’m tired. Feel free to have an idea :).
It was perfect.
The ghosts cheered. They’d done it. Five million, three hundred thousand, and eighty-nine dollars later, they’d done it. It’d only taken seventeen years of planning.
Okay, this one’s too fucked up to be a fable. But I like it anyway.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/capellevaughn/3400271940/
——
You ask if I will keep your secret, sir?
The earth is full of secrets, sir, and adding just one more to the boiling pot never causes a drop to spill. The humans do not know the secrets of the earth. The humans don’t know how to listen. The earth listens to the secrets of the humans, and the earth protects its friends.
Another 20 minute story for Elissa… if you don’t like it, tell me!! I can fix it.
Also, fuck you tumblr. Here’s the picture. http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5059/5490328252_f08e7af489_b.jpg
On Tuesday, gumdrops came out of the sky. They were beautiful, but small. Not one was larger than a mouse. They came into our city, and they spoke in desperate, sad whispers.
This is what they said: “How we miss our home! How do we go back home? Won’t someone please help us get back to our home?”
But we didn’t care about voices so small, and no one listened.
Here’s another fable for Elissa. Once again, I lost my train of thought in the middle of it, but conveniently had an alternative ending in case the first ending sucked! Feedback please. This is the picture:
The worst thing Momma Oak ever did was to plant Little Oak by the factories.
Everyone said to her, “You can’t plant your daughter here! She’ll never grow!” But Momma Oak planted her daughter in the ground next to the factories anyway.
“It’s where she’s needed the most,” Momma Oak said. And then Momma Oak kissed her daughter and left.
Growing up in the factories was hard. The factories were cruel to her. They puffed their smoke and clogged the skies, so Little Oak never got any fresh air. Every time Little Oak coughed and choked, they laughed at her. “Go away, Little Oak!” The factories bullied her. ” We don’t want you here! You’re not like us! We’re better than you, and we’re bigger than you. You don’t belong here!”
Little Oak cried every night. “Why did Momma Oak plant me here? No one loves me. No one wants me.” Sometimes, the factories heard her crying, and they laughed at her.
Every morning, Sun would come out. Sun was sad for Little Oak. Sun tried his best to give Little Oak extra sunshine, to keep her warm throughout the day, but the factories would puff extra dark smoke into the sky and block out Sun. In the gray dark, Little Oak shivered. The factories laughed at her. “Go back to the forest, Little Oak! You’re too different! We don’t need you here!” The factories taunted her and taunted her, and Little Oak cried.
Time passed, and Little Oak grew older. So did the factories. The factories got bigger and bigger, and they never stopped bullying Little Oak. “Look at how much steam we can make now!” the factories yelled, and every morning they clogged the skies and blocked Sun. Little Oak cried in the cold.
One morning, Sun came out. Sun shone on Little Oak, and the factories puffed their smoke into the air. But Little Oak was taller than the factories now! She soaked up all the sun she could, and she was warm. And Little Oak learned photosynthesis, so she turned all of the smoke into clean, yummy air. Everyone liked the clean air. Birds came to sit with Little Oak and sing beautiful songs, and other trees grew around the factories. Even the factories were happier. “We’re sorry, Little Oak,” they said. “We were really mean to you, but we didn’t understand. We were only mean because we don’t like things that are different. We didn’t understand that because you’re different, you’re the most special of us all. Thanks for giving us this clean air. We really needed you.”
Little Oak smiled. “Momma Oak was right,” she said. “This is where I’m needed most.” And Sun shone on Little Oak, and the factories and Little Oak smiled.
Depressing Children’s Stories For Excessively Happy Children* ending: Little Oak gets chopped down to use as wood in the factories.
* Thanks for the name, Sunjew.
I’m going to write a fable for each of Elissa’s paintings, and then we can have an illustrated book of fables! Here’s one. If you don’t like it, please let me know. It only took 20 minutes to write. I can rewrite it.
Also, Tumblr is being retarded. Go here to view the picture: http://i.imgur.com/ydbia.jpg
Once upon a time, there was a little wood spirit boy. He was made out of ink. He had ink-black hair, ink-black buttons on his ink-black jacket, ink-black eyes, and an ink-black frown. He didn’t like being made out of ink. He didn’t like being ink-black. He wanted to be blue, or green, or red, or purple.
Telling Sunjew a bedtime story (at 6pm, haha) in five minutes or less.
Once upon a time there was a boy. He spent all his time crafting stories. He didn’t like living in the realm of his forefathers. He wanted to live in a new place, and that only existed in his head. He spent hours and hours every day just dreaming of worlds where he would rather be.
The stegosaurus leapt out from behind the tree, “SURPRISE, FRED!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” The t-rex looked at him hungrily. “Oops… wrong clearing.”
Dracula reeled back in surprise, his fangs broken. “Welcome to the 21st century,” the cyborg smirked.
Late to the hospital, he pressed the gift that had taken him too long to find into her cold hand. “Surprise…” he whispered, and he wept.
- “Just one?” asked the mother. “The ultrasound showed twins.” The baby smiled. His appetite had developed early. Soylent green, indeed.
- Zookeepers withheld food to boost the lion’s appetite before they released it back into the wild. Squirrel overpopulation problem: solved.
The hottest lesbian that ever lived was named Cinderella. Cinderella had two foppish, but kind-hearted, stepsisters that were more than willing to let her do all the dirty work. Cinderella loved fixing broken chairs (her stepsisters, built for comfort but not for speed, supplied her with plenty) and sweeping the floor (the crumbs were perfect for feeding her pet rats). Most of all, she loved climbing up the inside of the fireplace. Her best time to the top was 56 seconds. Not a boy in town could beat her, so they called her “Cinderella” - the princess of cinders.
