Short-Story RRR*Anthology, or Some Sort of Project

29 Responses to Short-Story RRR*Anthology, or Some Sort of Project

1. agagabagabag zepata (trevor the decent) says:

   September 16, 2007 at 2:39 pm

   YESSS!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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2. the man for aeiou says:

   September 16, 2007 at 2:49 pm

   this does not compute. what happened to pc’s rrr rule?

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3. Alice of the Blackberries says:

   September 16, 2007 at 3:00 pm

   2- I think that this is a thread for people to post stories if they’re okay with Ag compiling them. I don’t have any stories and I don’t really want someone else to compile my writing unless it’s on an RRR, so I probably won’t come here much.

   It’s not that I’m worried about them stolen, I just don’t really see why my stories should be on someone else’s computer, especially since I’m liable to edit them to death.

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4. agagabagabag zepata (trevor the decent) says:

   September 16, 2007 at 3:16 pm

   I want to publish them as a collection of Muser’s short stories. They’re on my computer so that l can send them to my publisher when it’s done, but l won’t compile them until the editing is done.

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5. the man for aeiou says:

   September 16, 2007 at 3:20 pm

   but why is this called a RRR? this is not within the rules!

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6. agagabagabag zepata (trevor the decent) says:

   September 16, 2007 at 3:25 pm

   Stop complaining and write! Or leave… But don’t question the GAPAs.

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7. the man for aeiou says:

   September 16, 2007 at 3:39 pm

   6- I am not quesytining the gapas, I am questioning you.

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8. Alice of the Blackberries says:

   September 16, 2007 at 5:22 pm

   4- Oh my. No, you mayn’t send my stuff to a publisher without my knowledge, collaboration, and full name. RRRs are one thing, this is another.

   …You know a publisher, though?

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9. Purple Panda says:

   September 16, 2007 at 5:31 pm

   This should probably be called “Short Story Collection” or something, because it’s definitely not an RRR.

   Agagabagabag – could you further explain what you’re doing with the stories?

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10. oxlin widdershins says:

    September 16, 2007 at 6:03 pm

    you aren’t using the stories that were on the other thread, are you?

    What’s this about publlishing. See, it’d be interesting to have stories published but through you I have no control and plus they’re not edited.

    And whyever are you calling it an RRR when it’s basically you wishing for people to give you material so you can publish it?

    And are you crediting the stuff you use and under what name? Blog names? pen names as the GAPAs wouldn’t want us to use full names but people probably would want to publish under them…

    What company’s your publisher anyhow?

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11. agagabagabag zepata (trevor the decent) says:

    September 16, 2007 at 6:57 pm

    8- So go away.
    9- What more do you want?
    10- No. And it’s an indepenent publisher.
    Look. With an RRR, it’s a collaborative work. Same deal here. It’s a collaborative work of musebloggers. What’s the huge deal?

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12. Purple Panda says:

    September 16, 2007 at 7:05 pm

    Well, I wouldn’t really call it an RRR – that’s Round Robin Riting, where people take turns writing a story. Yes, they’re both collaboration, but I don’t think it should be called an RRR.

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13. Kiki the Great says:

    September 17, 2007 at 4:03 pm

    I think I’ll probably be posting more on the other short story thread, but here’s one you can use in your “anthology”:

    Voices

    If you looked at Alya Anderson, you certainly wouldn’t take her to be what she was. At a glance, she looked just like all the other kids at Sheldon Academy: shy, studious, and mousy-haired. But unlike the other children, she was a Speaker. She could open her mouth and make noise come out of it. Nobody knew what she was trying to say, because apparently you had to know a Language. But she got on perfectly well at the Academy using the hand gestures and motions that were still in use.
    Every day Alya was taunted, but she never seemed to notice. She just sat there, quietly studying or reading. A rumor had been circulating that she had more than one oddity. Speakers, though rare, could still receive messages and info and words the usual way, they just had to respond either using their Voice, though that was of no use to anyone, or using gestures. Alya was, as people were saying, a different story. People said that she couldn’t use her mind the proper way, and that she couldn’t even hear telephization!

    Gaia Solomon was a new kid at Sheldon Academy. She was nervous, very nervous, but she emanated such a strong message of worriedness that the other children comforted her and she quickly became acquainted with the instructors and most of the students. At breaktime, though, when all of the kids were telephizing animatedly, Gaia noticed a girl sitting by herself over at the far-right corner of the breakroom. Gaia, always kind, walked over to the girl and tried to strike up a conversation.
    “Hello,” she telephized.
    The girl made no reply. Maybe she was hard of hearing, Gaia thought.
    “Excuse me,” Gaia tel’d, a bit louder this time. Still, no reply.
    “HELLO!” Gaia yelled with the loudest telephizing she could muster.
    Everyone in the breakroom turned to stare at Gaia. She blushed.
    A boy came over to her from a table near where Gaia was standing. She recognized him from the morning introduction session. His name was Danilo.
    “Don’t tel to her. That’s Alya.” he telephized.
    “ Why?” Gaia asked, confused.
    “She can’t hear you. And even if she could, she couldn’t answer.”
    Gaia telephized more confusement.
    “She’s mute. Her brain doesn’t work properly. She can’t telephize.”
    Gaia’s drop-jawed telephization was felt across the whole breakroom.
    “But she must be able to tel a teensy bit!” said Gaia, trying to grab ahold of the situation.
    Danilo shook his head.
    Gaia walked away from Danilo. She certainly believed him, but… it just seemed so impossible! That girl couldn’t not be able to telephize! That was crazy!

    Gaia strode over to Alya. Her eyes were glazed and she was staring at her skirt like it held the secrets of the universe.
    Gaia decided to try something. She concentrated like she never had before on getting her telephization in to Alya, no detours, just straight in.
    “He-llo.” Simple, and, hopefully, direct.
    Apparently, Gaia’s utter concentration had worked, because Alya shook her head a little and gently touched her ears. Then she did something amazing. She opened her mouth as if to take a bite of the air and-
    sound came out.
    Gaia jumped up and backed away from Alya. Sound! Out of someone’s own face! And it sounded odd, different from other sounds such as the sound of a car’s engine or the sound of a plate breaking. It was… hard to explain. Gaia’s eyes slowly returned to their normal size, and she sat back down.
    Gaia repeated the process. She scrunched up her eyes and concentrated hard on getting the message directly into Alya’s mind.
    “Can-you-hear-me?”
    Alya’s eyebrows shot straight up, but she nodded tentatively. But again, she made sound come out of her mouth. Gaia shuddered, and thought, If she has to resort to making that sound come out of her mouth, then of course her brain doesn’t work like it should! Gaia’s ears weren’t adapted to hear voices, so she was taken aback even the second time and almost fell out of her chair.
    Alya did it yet another time, and Gaia noticed that there were similarities between the first noise and the second noise. Gaia motioned to her mouth to tell Alya to do it again. By that time, a small crowd had gathered around the two girls.
    Alya nodded and repeated the sound. The crowd telephized surprise and covered their ears, but Gaia held fast.
    “What-does-that-mean?” Gaia decided to call it hyperphizing, because it was very strong, direct, telephizing.
    Alya started to make gestures with her hands.
    “Slow down!”
    Alya did not respond, and kept repeating the gestures. Oh! Gaia thought. She had forgotten to hyperphize. “Slow-down.” Alya did. She started the series of movements over again. Shrug shoulders, point to mouth, point to head.
    Gaia was utterly confused. She shook her head. Alya did it again.
    Shrug, mouth, head.
    Shrug, mouth, head.
    Shrug, mouth-
    Gaia leapt up in realization. Shrug meant “how”, mouth meant “talk”, and head meant “mind”! She was asking how to telephize!
    Gaia responded with
    Shrug, mouth. “How do you Speak?”
    They both smiled.

    A week later, at least by the calendar in the headmaster’s office, Gaia and Alya were meeting every day at breaktime. Every day at breaktime, Gaia worked with Alya on the basics of telephizing, and Alya worked with Gaia on Speaking. During this, Gaia discovered something odd. Even though Gaia had never Spoken before, or even though Alya had never telephized before, they both seemed to have the innate ability. After a few weeks more of lessons, Gaia had managed a small rumbling in her throat, and Alya had telephized a small squeak. Since hyperphizing took a huge amount of energy, Alya and Gaia had together developed a sort of gesture-Language, so that they could communicate, albeit primitively. One day at breaktime, when Gaia went over to their usual spot in the corner, she was surprised to discover that Alya wasn’t there. Gaia waited out all of breaktime, but Alya never showed. Alya must be really sick, thought Gaia. Sheldon Academy had record attendance rates. But it was Friday, and Gaia wouldn’t see Alya again until Monday.

    On Monday at breaktime, Alya again wasn’t there. This time Gaia decided to go a bit further into the situation, and went over to another table on the right side of the room.
    “Excuse me,” she telephized to the table at large. “Have any of you seen Alya?” A girl stood up and come over to Gaia. “Yeah, she’s over there.”
    Gaia, relieved, followed the girl’s pointing finger. Alya was sitting alone on a sofa with her eyes closed, but she jumped up with a smile when Gaia approached. Gaia was about to ask Alya why she wasn’t sitting with her, but Alya shook her head. Alya walked closer to Gaia, still smiling, squinched up her eyes and-
    “Hi, Gaia!”
    Alya’s telephization came through clear and true in Gaia’s head. Gaia’s jaw dropped open in amazement.
    “Hi, Alya,” she said, with her own Voice.
    ____________
    I’ll be posting it on the other thread too.

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14. Andrew says:

    September 19, 2007 at 6:37 pm

    Hey, fellow MBers. These are some story starters. Feel free to tear them apart or praise them as you will.

    My room should be filed under “biohazard”. It is such a pigsty, that at least half of the stuff in there is, or had at some point, been, food. The smell is completely unbearable, and I quote, “It smells as if somebody took a dead cat, threw it into a black plastic bag, and let it sit out in the sun for three days.” Mother yells at me continually to clean up, or call a bomb squad, or something. Although I know it’s horrible, I just can’t bring myself to pick up after myself. It’s gotten to a point where it’s just no use to clean it up. No human being could clean this up in less than twenty-four hours. I can’t even see the floor half of the time! “All this time of having to put on a hazmat suit just to open my door is going to cost me,” I said. And one day, it did just that. My own filthy room-keeping habits came back and bit me in the rear end.

    Mr. Squiggles the Happy was the most vicious, god-awful dog on the face of the earth. Don’t let the stupid name and title fool you. His eyes Who the heck names a Rottweiler and bulldog mix “Mr. Squiggles the Happy”? Mr. Creery must be either the most delusional or the sickest person in the world. Because a dog that sits on the porch, with its teeth bared, eyes blood-red, waiting for the next unsuspecting (or, in some cases, fully aware) pedestrian, is certainly not “happy”. Mr. Creery doesn’t even keep him on a leash. There’s a rumor going around that the proud owner of Squiggles even keeps a camera going, just to see who gets mauled every day. Many of us have fantasized about throwing a Tidy-Bowl puck in Creery’s yard to bump off Mr. Squiggles. Come to think of it, I’ve got a fresh stash of them in my bathroom closet. Hmmmm………

    It was something out of a horror movie. This experience was like learning your hitch-hiker was a mass-murderer. As I was walking home from school, I noticed that I was seeing the same car, over and over again. I decided to check the plate number, and sure enough, it was indeed the exact same car. The driver turned around and smiled at me. It wasn’t a normal person. This person had eyes like little stars and a cavernous mouth. He smiled, wider and wider. Then I noticed that the guy had teeth like knives. Now, I kept snakes at home, and when teeth are sharp, I notice it pretty well. There could be no mistake. Either this guy filed his teeth to points, and just had a naturally big mouth; he wasn’t your normal middle-aged man. This man was a monster. I was never prepared for this; I thought this only happened in scary movies. Now, I had no idea what to do.

    Doug Mitchell was always the crankiest kid in school. If somebody even made the slightest joke about him, he would turn into Mr. A-Bomb and blow up, right then and there. This temper of his would get him more trips to the principal’s office than anyone in the history of the school. We always made jokes about his red hair, and that’s how I got my broken nose. He got an in-school suspension for that. It was the funniest thing ever, watching a seventh-grader have a counselor tell him to act out his feelings with socks, and then chew on the socks he was supposed to be using to vent his feelings. For years, Doug actively resisted all attempts at being friends with someone, getting psychiatric help, and everything that had to do with social interaction. For years, we didn’t know what was wrong with him, or why he was so withdrawn. Then we found out.

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15. Andrew says:

    September 19, 2007 at 6:40 pm

    Sorry for the double post. Anyway, in the second line of the second paragraph, the words “his eyes” should be edited out.
    Don’ t plagiarize, PLEASE! I wrote these for an English assignment, and they might be published. So, unless you want to be in trouble, don’t copy these. Just read them.

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16. the man for aeiou says:

    September 19, 2007 at 6:53 pm

    15- but the whole point is to copile them! if you don’t what them to be, go to the other theard.

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17. Andrew says:

    September 20, 2007 at 7:02 pm

    15- Take ’em, anyone interested. My English teacher was not too thrilled.

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18. agagabagabag zepata (trevor the decent) says:

    September 22, 2007 at 12:10 pm

    You people don’t get it. You make it sound like l want to collect your stories to put in a book by me. No. l wish to make a collective work of Museblog short stories, with everyone working together. ln this way, lt’s like an RRR.

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19. widdershins (e~a) says:

    September 22, 2007 at 1:26 pm

    agagabagabag (what can I call you that’s *shorter* than that?)- I’d like to contribute a story to this, I think, just not one of the ones that used to be on the other thread. It might take me a while to come up with one though.

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20. Alice says:

    September 22, 2007 at 1:56 pm

    I’ll think about it. Maybe a sketch on the uses of packing peanuts? (That is, as a sadistic weapon.) I was thinking about writing it anyway.

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21. agagabagabag zepata (trevor the decent) says:

    September 23, 2007 at 9:10 pm

    [story] RPG
    (Role playing galaxy)
    Edge of the Milky Way galaxy, March 12, 2006:
    What appeared to be a chunk of metal zoomed through space, blinked a few times, and sent out a shockwave. The galaxy’s inhabitants saw and heard nothing, for this was a probe that sensed emissions of a form of life completely unknown to them. The machine too sensed no life, and unloaded some form of bizarre hardware on a nearby asteroid…

    Same time, USA, Earth:
    Brian and Andrew sat in Brian’s living room playing video games. Andrew had just bought a new role-playing game, and they were trying it out.
    “This is awesome.” said Andrew. “This is one of the new games that connects on a world-wide server via satellite. We could be playing against people in India, or Japan, or France.”
    “Yeah,” answered Brian, “or Kuwait, or Saudi Arabia, or England, or Venezuela!”
    “Or even Atlantis!”
    The boys cracked up.

    Same time, Ventacora, Planet Legana, Lorchis Galaxy:
    “Trogoris! Have you seen this?” Signaled Kaloon. “This game can hook up to any known planet! They even hooked up a server device to give us access from another galaxy because of the solar-system wide demand!”
    “Yeah! Come to my hive after instruction so we can check it out!”
    But Trogoris became puzzled. “What if the galaxy’s inhabited?”
    “Don’t be silly. The game’s makers sent out a probe to check, and they said that no alabarian-based life forms were found.”

    Back at earth, Brian put the game into his console and turned it on. Everything started normally. He chose a wizard and Andrew chose a knight. The boys had a great deal of fun wreaking virtual havoc with people who spoke no English, until Andrew noticed the time.
    “I should get going. It’s getting late. Let’s just check out that last cave and leave.”
    But upon their entrance, the screen split into to sections. Half looked just like the cave, but the other half appeared to be some sort of strange marshland. It was filled with murky purple liquid, and the plants on the shore were moving. Most noticeable, however, were the eyeless, opaque orange creatures on the other side.
    “G-g-gee Brian, I didn’t see the manual. Do you think it’s a hacker?”
    “Probably. Let’s see if they have microphones.”
    Brian turned up his console’s speakers, and they immediately let out an ear-splitting shriek, followed by incessant clanging.
    “Jeez, are they even aware that they’re making noise?” He quickly turned off the speakers.
    “Well, they’re pretty much begging for a fight. Let’s see what they do!”

    “What the- what is this? I didn’t see these creatures in the manual. Attack or avoid, Kaloon?”
    “Attack. But turn up the ultra-feelers. I want to pick up their amateur emissions of terror.”
    The entire room shock with the force of the otherworldly emissions.
    “Wha- can they detect this? Those brutes are just ranting nonsense! Attack!”
    But Trogoris hesitated. He knew that all the characters were races existent in the twelve planets of his solar system, and none looked remotely like this. As if to confirm his suspicions, the screen of his entertainment device was interrupted by the image of an anchorman.
    “Greetings, citizens of the Coranian solar system. Please excuse this interruption, but the sensors on the edge of a nearby galaxy, the one the game “Wrath of the Furan King” is set in, have detected a form of life based on a local element called carbon. Though these are the most basic of organisms, they are evidence that more intelligent life exists elsewhere. Thank you.”
    The screen went back to the divided sections. Without signaling to each other, Trogoris and Kaloon simultaneously turned off their devices.
    As you can imagine, Brian and Andrew were quite perplexed by this broadcast.
    “That- that looked like those things there, but real! I-I need to go home.”
    Needless to say, both boys were certain that they had imagined it, and never spoke a word of it to anyone, even each other. Both were afraid that the other would scoff and tell them they were imagining things. That is, until a few months later, when a news report told of possible non carbon-based life I another galaxy.

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22. the man for aeiou says:

    September 23, 2007 at 10:31 pm

    21- that reminds me of only you can save mankind .

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23. Alice says:

    September 24, 2007 at 12:53 pm

    21- Hmm. I like it! Write more?

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24. Alice says:

    September 24, 2007 at 1:11 pm

    I have a vague idea, but it was composed months ago and I’m not sure I can still write it. I’ll give it a shot sometime.

    I don’t want my short stories being published without my last name. I’d like my mother to email the GAPAs and tell them that it’s okay for Ag to have my last name, and then have the GAPAs email it to Ag so that he can put it in his compilation. Could I do that?

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25. agagabagabag xarcu zepata says:

    October 22, 2007 at 5:20 pm

    Fizzzzzzzzzzlle… bip!

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26. agagabagabag says:

    November 17, 2007 at 12:40 pm

    l can’t stand to see this thing alive, ut’s just to painful. Kill it, please.

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27. the man for aeiou says:

    November 20, 2007 at 10:09 pm

    yes, GAPAS, kill it!
    kill it! kill It! [10000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 more kill it! removed- the man for aeiou, pretending to be prillus canix, pretending to be a GAPA]

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28. Prarilius Canix, taking a break from NaNoWriMo says:

    November 20, 2007 at 10:52 pm

    Prillus Canix? He’s my older brother. My parents always dreamed of naming a child after the famous Vanillin pie war hero. However, when they had their first child and took him to have his name entered in the permanent records, the registrar was near the end of his shift and only remaining conscious through consumption of hypercaffeinated coffee*. As such, his spelling wasn’t exactly the best. When I came along, my parents named me with the correct spelling.
    *Ever wonder where they put the caffeine that they take out of decaf? They put it in hypercaf, which contains twice the amount of caffeine in regular coffee. Often used by people working the graveyard shift, like NaNoWriMo participants on Nov. 30.

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29. the man for aeiou says:

    December 6, 2007 at 12:35 pm

    28- I can see a story coming out of that.

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