A Skip Through Purple Prose-ies

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Boss Frost, May 5, 2014.

  1. Half writing challenge, half game. This little experiment might very well drive some of our members stark raving mad. It's a very simple concept: step one, you'll write a paragraph. Step two, whip out a thesaurus and destroy your text through purple prose. Don't post the first paragraph: only post the prose'd stuff. The more flowery and ridiculous, the better. The task of those who come after you is either to put up a prose'd paragraph of their own or try to guess what the heck you just said. If you manage to guess what was typed, then you get to choose the next topic.
    So, of course, this might end up being a little slow, but oh so fun.

    First topic? Write about what you'd like to do in the future.
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  2. *holds nose and attempts*

    In the bygone days of Minibit's youth, when the sun rained in warm drops of gold into the parchment in her fragile, feminine fingers, the ink did seem to ride and assume the shapes of fantastic phantasms, tousling and whirling through the clouded gardens of narrative. And in the midst of these wonders a whim did articulate itself into the corners of her mind, and thereby grow from the bud of fate into a mature and blooming flower to pursue the craft of these miracles, and thereby share the euphoric disposition such apparitions rendered with the globe as a whole, which did at the time seem a kind and receptive audience
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  3. Minibit wants to be an author? At least she did when she was a kid?
    #3 Lady B, May 7, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: May 7, 2014
  4. Correctamundo! These days I'm looking more at the editorial side of the process; making a living nitpicking sounds attractive >=3
  5. Oh, I should probably pick the next topic. It's

    That awkward moment when...
  6. Hmm... Ooh! I got it! This is going to be painful...

    The mesh of pleading crowds swarmed the freezing sidewalks, each going to their own meager job and only earning enough to just barely make it by. The bleak gray of the skies cried as black umbrellas danced in masses. The owners paid no attention to another, their coal cloaks only emphasizing the dreariness of the plummeting auras. Despair reeked off of the ashen buildings, darkened windows bled into the dreary scenery. It was all pointless, as was the great mystery of living or oneself in the deranged world of reality. But then he met her. The golden sheets that dared to call themselves hair flowed like silk down her smooth, pale skin. Her pastel rose coat snugly grabbed her bust and hips, accentuating her curves in every possible way. Beautiful green orbs turned to stare into his own chestnut brown, speaking of gentleness and a daintiness that only true women could achieve. Her slender digits ever so lightly held the floral magenta that protected her from the tears of the gods. Not a single spot marred her creamy white skin, showing a smoothness not ruined by the grasp of age or the evils of the bright yellow devil sun. Her feet held in skin-tight leather boots simply spoke of complete grace. Her long, dancer-like legs poked out underneath her pastel dress, showing the barest of slivers of the beautiful milky skin. She fluttered her luscious eyelashes, giving a large smile that would make Apollo envy her. The man felt a fire roaring in his veins. His chocolate hair, so beautifully messy, swayed in the wind as a faint pink tinted his sun-kissed cheeks. He felt a warmth sweep through his body, time freezing as he slowly smiled. The crowds stopped. The clouds stopped their crying as the wondrous flames licked at his every being, making his digits twitch in anxiousness. This golden beauty-no, goddess-had to be his! The world seemed to sing hallelujahs when he took a step to reveal himself to his secret lover. The grass orbs were tainted with the purest of fear, horror and disgust marring the heavenly features of his little angel. The fires in his heart continued to soar as he looked down to where she and the rest of their enraptured audience was staring at. A little soldier stared up at him, ready for duty. The man uttered only a single noun. "Shit."

    Oh God! It burns! It burns so much! But... it was so fun! What is this curse?!
  7. Ah, the involuntary boner. Sucks, man.
  8. Eeyup. Has happened to my brother a many of times.
  9. So I can pick the next topic then right?

    The last public place you visited
  10. In summer's climes here in my homeland is born exhaustion, for this warmth is no mere warmth at all, but is a cooking-fire: the citizens of this land of stars and sun are roasted into crisp perfection every anti-winter's day the solar orb rises uncovered; and of this kind of fire is where crafted with due art and complexity the fateful by-products of heaven's ambrosia, or that which is to those of Cathar faith the things which subsist they whom tie us to the realm of sin, the gratification of our middles' lust! To be more precise (as to the nature of the aforementioned flame), this heat be born of the low-born climes of he which ruined the olive trees and adobe houses of Herculaneum, and being of this nature the flame (or, rather, a synonym of it) became quite properly the first forge of choice for the finest fare-smiths of the cities built upon the ruins of the aforementioned place: and by providence, the former temper did by its very nature lead to the latter utilization. And so, due to the already-mentioned cause, did we enjoy the fruits of my father's labor, (but of course, with due temperance) by for the already-said sea-and-ash born commons spending it so, and with once again a proper discipline, with silent joy, disposing of it. And so tis' how we, by undue meteorological phenomena, did comfort ourselves this afternoon; and this afternoon being the only time I have left my aged yet still tender abode, this long and hopefully by the horrible powers of the tales recounting the unreal Old Ones confusing narrative has detailed my answer to your shown but not stated query.
    #10 RiverNotch, Jun 8, 2014
    Last edited: Jun 8, 2014
  11. I journeyed to a stallion manifestation, and in consideration of I'm dyspathetic to colts, I had an unfavorable spell and and established oneself in the rearmost, rubbernecking television.
    I had a sternutation whimsy and reached a decision that I had had an abundance, and vamoosed back into the stables, which were vacant. My kin were in that manifestation, and I still have no believed abstraction if they earned recompense or not. I resemble a disgraced woman.
    #11 TyratheTyrant, Jul 27, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Aug 12, 2014