How long can you write without a word ending in "e"?

[Lady Sabine]

Hey hey hey Iwaku, I've got a weird challenge for you today.

Your challenge: write as many sentences as you can (in English!) that make up a complete story, without ANY of the words ending with the letter e.
This means that the word "the" can't be used. Nor can "he", "she", "me", or "we". Or any number of other very very very common words.
This is a combination of vocabulary, grammar, and creativity. And, trust me, it's much harder than it looks to make every sentence make sense without the E endings. You may choose the subject matter, POV, and tense. No poetry and must be in correct English.


BOSS MODE: No "y" endings AND no "s" endings.

 

[Mork-Mork]

How did you even get such an interesting idea?! Although I don't know how long I will last without ending something with something forbidden, but with such an interesting task, I must at least attempt.

I am Mork-Mork. At this point, I can admit that I will end up failing. I keep typing word after word ending with that blasted letter (and that other pair as well) without even realizing that I did. That bunch of brain material in Mork-Mork's head will malfunction soon, all thanks to you. Yeah, you read that right. When I finish this paragraph, I will post it and shrivel up into a blob of despair all for you and your stupid (amazing) idea.

(That turned out a bit mean, sorry! I don't mean to be~ Well, on the bright side, I did manage to get Half Boss Mode?)

 

[redblood]

(Challenge accepted, boss mode skipped)

Rubric: A short story without *Peep*

I looked down at my citizens, they seemed so happy. Personally I didn't think that my coronation was such a joyful event. But why would they concern themselves with my freedom being jeopardized? Who cared for what I wanted. As long as I could do a good job as their monarch then everything would turn out alright. And even though it was tempting, I could never abandon them. Not after all they had gone through during my fathers reign. I was obliged to fix his mess.

My father had been cruel to his fellow humans. Torturing citizens had been way too common during his reign, no matter what law they had violated, no matter how small their wrong doing had been. Death sentences had also been abused tremendously. That man I called father often forced my mother and I to watch as criminals got their punishments. It was disgusting.

But that man, no, that monster was finally far away from us. His body was burnt, and his soul, if it even existed to begin with, was most likely in hell. It was certainly cruel to feel happiness out of someones pain, but if my father was suffering in hell, then I could not feel anything less than joy for it. And I couldn't help but pity them whom felt his punishment was too cruel. It wasn't cruel at all, it was justice for all of them he had wronged.

___

I probably could have continued without any e's for longer, but I wanted to finish it off anyway xD It wasn't as hard as I imagined, but I probably screwed up the grammar a lot without even noticing haha.

 

[Tanzinite]

If you fell from a glider, would you extinguish on impact? Would that end it all? Or would you get back up and walk away? Would you break? I'm not suggesting that you try, just think about it. How fast can death steal you away? Trip down a step, perish on impact. Go to bed happy; never wake up. Morbid? Yeah, but honest. Death is relentless. It'll get you. From birth, it chases you. It won't ever stop. Not until you don't exist. Now, don't get all weepy. It's perfectly natural. Programmed into your DNA, in fact. Munch on that.

Oh yeah, and don't expect help. Nobody cares about your mortality. They have their own to deal with. Go out and enjoy what you've got. It'll be history soon enough.

 

[Arrowcorpse]

My journey began simply enough. I got in my car, started it up, and left my driveway. It was not to remain so easy, however. My GPS loves to mess with my brain, and ended up giving directions right out of this world.

As soon as I merged into highway traffic, I knew something was wrong. My dash gauges began going crazy, and I felt my car beginning to direct itself...I was losing control of my car. I swerved in and out of traffic, fighting to regain steering. My car did not want that to happen. Its radio turned on and began talking...it said that it would take control for a bit, and I should consider taking a nap...if I could sleep. The trip might turn a slight bit rough. I freaked, doing everything I could to steer in a direction I knew. But to no avail. I eventually surrendered myself to the idea that I was being overpowered by machinery, and settled back into my seat. I tried to enjoy it.

I could not understand anything that was happening. At first, it seemed as though I was simply going onto roads I didn't know. Then, my car began to hover. I screamed, even though nobody could hear. As I flew higher, I began to wish I'd told my family a better farewell...I didn't know when I would end up in an area I know again. I imagined my parents, waving sadly as I told them I had to go, and pulling out of sight. I imagined my girlfriend, crying when I told her I was leaving for a bit. And I imagined all my friends, congratulating my decision to go out and travel.

I began to cry softly. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want to meet my death in this way. I had so much left I wanted to do. And now I would never get to do any of it. My car went straight up towards our beautiful sky, and began to burn. My last thought as I burned to death was how beautiful Earth truly is...

 

[Xan]

***Attempting Boss Mode***
---------------------------------------

A year ago, after her father left for an unknown town, her mother started sleeping with their neighbor, Mister Parker. However, it didn't last long; their relationship had turned sour after just a month. Neither of them had known how to deal with guilt, for Mister Parker also had a secret — her mother had hooked up with a married man.
Gossip had destroyed their relationship even though both had practiced discretion.

Devastated, her mother —who had lost all reason — killed Mister Parker in cold blood. A gun shot did him in.
Now their neighbor rested six feet under.
Sheer luck had kept her mother out of prison, but luck could not mend a broken, bleeding heart. And so, another month later, her mother took another lover.
A week later, another shot rang out.
Another death.
Another link to a never-ending chain of despair.


***Brain cells melting here. Need cupcakes to survive.

 

[Nimh]

That faithful morning-, oh how it ruined everything; and all that could begin, began. 'What could begin' you ask? Well, I shall explain. All our women and children ran scared at our aforementioned event. Our lot, well you could call it, far beyond thrown. Torn, in a moment, having no meaning, whatsoever. Not an individual left to ponder such a terrifying event. Who would do such a thing? Who would ruin our aspirations? And what could begin you asked. Well, everything. And so it did. Our men absent in our land, found a rut of despair. - Isolation surrounding them. Putting them in a frightful condition; so their need for women grew. And so an exaggeration formed. Talk of how devastating everything seemed, flourished. What began of such an event? Despair. Distrust. Mutilation. Desperation. Exaggeration. Greed. War. Death. Then our women found a path, and then greeted each man with such a cheerful manner, our exasperated men changed. Everything began again. Who knew? Having lost their children, although, it remained their secret, what could our men expect from our women? Our men never questioned it. I could not either. So our account, will forever find an insufficient end.


(I wassss sso tempted to put "all that liveth." at one point, and just start using all the old English words.. I know the writing style is funny, because I would write that from a prospective of one of my characters.. And some of them, talk funny. Though I thought of a lot of little tricks I could have used. Maybe I'll add some more later.. But I was done for now.)

 

[Absinthe]

I think it's easier to accept our harsh existence of starvation, a merciless attack each night on this small remaining group, and parents screaming over a small form not eight years old, when I get a few hours to get myself prepared for this onslaught. Friend, I don't know a soul destroying moment like that moment when you hear a mother screeching as they find another victim; her child, her husband, her sister, her brother. Men mourn too, but men don't scream as women do. In this world, women act as the alarm clock making this world of death and destruction oh so real again. Our leader tells them that every loss of each man, woman and child will be avenged, that we will get our uprising, and they will suffer over and over again, with their men, women and children. A crazy woman, that's what Lover decided to call her. Lover saw world across that border, and according to him, this rag-tag bunch with a fool as a leader, with a gun each if they get blessed, will never overthrow their government. A world of a 'perfect' being will kill in a painful method beyond our wildest fever dream. "You and I, they want to call you and I a soldier." I recall him scoffing, "A girl such as yourself is too beautiful in mind and physical being to fight a war as doomed to fail as this." When I asked "What is different about you?" Lover would never fail to laugh. "I'm a dreamer." He'd whisper with a grin, and a peck on the cheek.

I look now at our own collection, tools used for cooking long ago, and now all stained in human blood. Our reflection is dull and blurred in the somewhat clean. I select two, catching sight of a tired woman, sick of all this fighting. A gun in her waistband, material covering most of her right arm to stem the flow of blood. A weak lump lies in bed, too weak, too injured to move. A soft groan from under a sheet. I need to fight for him now, just not in a manner I thought I would ever would.

Lover said I wasn't a soldier, but now, I beg to differ.

//Attempting boss mode.

 

[fatalrendezvous]

[ After eyeing this challenge for a while, I decided I'm going to try it. Here's my shot at boss mode. Damn this shit is hard! I swear I have edited and re-edited this entry at least two dozen times now. ]

---

Everything happened so fast. Looking back, it all seemed like a blur.

I stood, waiting for him. I tried to remain patient, to remain calm. At first, being reunited seemed so exciting. But that man that I hoped to encounter never arrived. A different man showed up instead, a familiar stranger, identical in presentation but in no other regard, so different that I couldn't even distinguish him now. It proved difficult to even connect that shell of a man to what I recalled of him. I still remember seeing him walking toward that outstretched offer of a hug, no longer that lover I knew: that caring, patient, ever kind and loving individual to whom I had given heart and soul.

No.

War had changed him. It had scarred him. So much so that I knew I could never mend him, and that each effort for him to ever recover and go back to being that man I loved would end in heartbreak. Even knowing that, I still long to hold him again, even if just for a moment.

Looking back, it wasn't so surprising, that transformation. But even now I still remember that pain. That sting of seeing him approach wearing that blank look, with no offer of affection. Not a comforting word. Just deafening quiet behind a blank expression. I cannot forget - will never forget - that wrenching pain when I watched that man, whom I'm now forced to label "ex-husband," walk past.

 

[saddlebredpride]

BOSS MODE -

Emir laughed, throat raw and sounding near hysteric. "Go back? To what? Not mother. I would get skinned!"

Atari frowned. A pale hand pressed against dark skin, cold skin, far too frail skin. "Isn't that better than wasting into nothing? I don't want to watch you wither, Emir."

A small grin, that showed so much pain, so much hurt. Everything had crashed down around Emir, and it showed right then. Showed in a way that it never had in earlier conversation. "I think that I'd rather wither than turn into my mother. I /know/ that I would. Watching her while I grew up...seeing what happened to all those men...I don't want to turn into that!"

"You won't," started Atari - but the spider queen wasn't allowed to finish that thought.

"You're right," agreed Emir, taking a step backward. "I won't."

 

[ThousandSwords]

(Although I will accomplish quite a long bit of text and prose using this, most of it will be using rather archaic sentence structuring more akin to old medieval literature than modern text, mostly because it makes it easier. Also, Saddle, You're used an E at the end of a word.

Not trying boss mode. Half-asleep.)

Sorrows descend upon a man who does not understand what his undertakings will lead him to. A thousand sorrows for each undertaking, a thousand sorrows to deal and to understand. To witness upon a scarred crust of a planet a worthless undertaking is to know of sorrows that overwhelm doughty soldiers, dismay brave-hearted men, and drown unworthy souls in hollow pits of oblivion.

But let a reader of a clever yarn know well, a hound holds sorrows, but does not let them control his destiny. Spun threads of history do wrap and twist, but it is not unheard of for them to break entirely. That man who was known not as a man nor as human, but as naught but Hound, and him a Hound of a knightly persuasion, was trudging valiantly forth, armor clad and firmly girded against fate's varied vagaries. This was not accomplished with cheer or light heart, but with silent resignation, that comes with a man that no longer fears anything but death's cold caress upon a back of a man's neck when danger strikes closer than ever it has.

A warg did skulk in shadows dreary and deep, sniffing out his scent as if our dear Hound was naught but a tasty morselet to devour at a moment's diversion of perception. A Hound fears not fangs or claws of any warg, as his own claw bites sharper and harder than any beast's could. "May you hunt in lands that nary witness a hunter.", said that Hound, speaking to that slain monster, for amongst his titles claimed slayer of beasts and men that trundled across the world, and its battlefields.

This Hound Knight was a man, a long aeon ago. This Hound remains disguised in shape of a man, though, his heart and his mind long worn cynical and jaded of a world that is no longer a sanctuary. His armor gleams, a dark night perilous, fraught with danger, charred black by scorching fires, but still holding that spark, that sheen, as if a grim holdout of goodness trying to defend against crushing despair. His sword is black as night, black as his soulless heart. it is sharper than any that preceded, cutting similar to a dragon's tooth through a loaf of bread.

Why does that Hound walk the roads? What does his quest entail? What are his desires? No man, beast, god, or dragon may guess, but perhaps a quest to redeem what his blackhearted deeds accomplished would indeed fit.

 

[Tanstin]

I walked up the stairs

(This is all I could do)

 

[Slapndabass]

On the first day of school John didn't know what to do, John didn't know a soul, John would do anything just to run into a person that was familiar. It didn't matter if it was a friend or a person who hated him all John wanted was to talk and John was way to shy to just talk to a random person. Through that day of school John didn't meet anybody, John just stayed to himself. John went on with his day to day unhappy soon days turned to weeks and weeks tuned into months, John had given up any optimism that anyone would ever want to talk to him but on that day in his forth period class a face John had never seen before walked though the door. It was a new student! this was his opportunity to finally find a person to talk to but sadly his nerves where to much for him to say hi so John just stayed in his seat and got on his laptop to help pass the time but then John heard a friendly sound, "Hello, I don't have anybody to talk to in this class so I decided to talk to you." John was amazed, John finally had a person to talk to.

 

[saddlebredpride]

I'm going to try the Master version again!

"Look at her," whispered Treva, hand waving at their prisoner.

Kaya sat in front of them, a far too kind look on her face. As though her end had been accepted - and it had been. Had been accepted an instant after leaving her small town, daughter and grandchildren safely behind. If Death was to sweep her off her feet, it best do it now.

Feir nodded, bit at her bottom lip. "I didn't expect their warrior to show up looking so...decrepit."

"I can hear you," said Kaya, shifting against her bond. Leather chapped at skin, leaving it raw and open. "And I am not decrepit. Just aged."

"Aged?" Treva snorted. "No. You, dear, you left 'aged' behind long ago."

 

[Raimei]

Dakiin knelt on the mossy rocks of The Schaelfe'churian island, overlooking the icy sea as the sea swept up and down over her toes. The Snow Elf surveyed the frothing, dark waves for the sign of any fish. Or a dolphin, a dolphin would make alot of money, or feed her family for a good few days. She breathed in the cold air, the petrichor scent of the earlier hail fall crept through the coast.

A splash came from not too far away, now alert the Elf's eager eyes darted quickly to the source, from what was heard the splash was light and weak; a simple catfish, most likely. A fish not of much worth but better than returning empty handed. She readied her dagger as she kept a watch for the next splash. It was from the left, still near the rocky bank. She took a short breath, put her light hands together and dived into the navy sea. Dakiin kept her, coincidentally, pastel green eyes open, her eyelashes were a deep black, standing out in her otherwise blue to white apperance.

Dakiin looked around in the water to spy the, as she predicted, catfish, swimming away. The elf raced after it, dagger in hand as Dakiin gripped it's slippery tail and dragged it back, plunging the dagger into it's gills and twisting it as it was brought to the surface. Now lifeless, it was stuffed into her woven bag as Dakiin traipsed back up to the beach. The bag hung on her shoulder as always, she'd been down to this coast every day for ages. Around four years now.

The Elf left light footprints in the frosted sand as it ambled across the coast. It came to this side of the island to pass by the Altmer village on the way, it never interacted with anyone. It merely observed the daily goings-on of the High Elves and then moved on her way. Today, from the position of the sun, it was around eight am. The markets had opened from the sounds of the townsfolk, calling for customers and promoting their goods.

Dakiin walked along the outer wall of the village, overlooking the Altmer as they went on with their daily routines. As it carried on walking across it slipped and fell, hearing a loud 'crack' as her body contacted the pavement. Dakiin was on the inside of the wall. Her hands trembled as the Elf fumbled to get up, a few concerned villagers wandered over, a rough looking pair of them helped her up, moving her behind a building, barely conscious. In one punch the knocked her out.

 

[Drew]

(not in boss mode)

"As I was saying. Hey listen up Jack!" Never had a woman been so in nasty in all my days. Nothing I could do or try to say would get her off my back.

"You need to redo this paper, its crap! I don't understand a word of it. It's so stupid. Can't you even spell correctly?" Watching my document go flying up shattered what was left within. I was dying. Gretchen was killing this soul known as Jack.
I had to do something. I had to. Planting tracks within our kitchen I found her scissors had been left out. Taking them up, I held them dear and walked back towards the bellowing beast.

"And another thing." A flash of light glint across her face as the steal found a new nook to hollow. I was wrong. I was in error, but I was liberated. It was over. Gagging and bubbling with blood beasty fell. I stood a man at last.


(Hope its ok-rather dark I know)