Story by Sentence.
 

if anyone else is like me, you'll probably read 50 one sentence posts before you'd read one post with 50 sentences. so lets make a story one sentence at a time.
this could be a really good story, or it could get very messy very fast. not a demand, but a request, try and keep it flowing. theres no need to start throwing in dick jokes to get other dwellars to giggle.
well here go's



My dry eyes creaked open to the bright afternoon sun, which was warming the exposed skin through my ripped and torn clothing.

Cautiously, tentativlely, I moved my limbs, one at a time, checking for breakages, expecting pain at each movement.

My Camaro lay wadded up like a empty pack of Camels at the base of a mammoth oak.

Trying to shake the dizziness out my head, I snapped alert when I suddenly remembered Bessy Mae still strapped in the passenger seat.

Or at least, she had been.

Damn coonhound! Where had she run off to now?

off in the distance i heard the roar of a bear.....then a scream! Silence befell the woods as i lie in my own waste wishing i was not pinned under the car.

(not part of story.... I have a coonhound!)

It was then that I realized that the vials must have broken in the accident. And I was the only one who had taken the antidote....

Bessie Mae came rollicking up to the car, apparently unscathed from her encounter with the bear. Gently, she tugged at my shirt collar and began to pull me out from the wreckage...

I looked around and saw I was not far from the highway - a highway littered with cars, as though dropped and scattered by the hand of some strange giant, but now silent, still.

a few distant moans and screams filled the air, all meaningless if the situation could not be contained

Grabbing Bessy Mae by her ears and nuzzling her wet cold nose, she started licking my face, her hiney wagging in delight in re-affirmant of our bond, and scampered off... AND to my amazement, sniffed out other survivors,... dragging them from the their own piles of wreakage.

Bessy Mae pulled 5 more survivers to safety. We were sitting on the crumpled hood of a large SUV, trying to figure out what to do next when we heard another terrible scream from that woods. That warn't no bear!

My head was clearing rapidly now, probably the shock effect of the adrenaline now pumping round my body - so maybe the vials hadn't all broken... I began to search.

Knowing what i did about the super virus i had been transporting, I was pretty sure it was probably too late anyway, and when i saw the raven take flight from amongst the bits of broken glass, I was sure it was.

But the raven plummetted from the sky, looking for all the world like Harry Whittington, and landed not 50 yards from where we sat. Bessy Mae dashed toward the downed bird.

"Relent!" I commanded, and my beloved pooch halted in her tracks, open mouth mere inched from the infected bird.

It was then that Bessie's ears perked up, as she turned to look over my shoulder and into the sky...

The sky was filled with ravens! Either I had gone over the edge or the birds were organizing their movements.

As if to confirm my suspicions, the birds all executed a movement simultaneously. Alll over my car. And Bessie.

{Do sentence fragments count?}

A rain of black feathers poured down toward us. They gleamed blue-black in the sunlight and then were carried away with the passing breeze that was blowing right toward Philadelphia.


{sentence fragments are optional, I believe}

The birds weren't so much moving as in a flight formation , they were all practising the same movement of pulling their feathers from their bodies with their beaks as they flew - madness, but a madness imposed by the disease spilled from those broken vials - so not only humans were capable of becoming infected...

{Of course your post consisted of two complete sentences, with both subject and predicate (in fact one had two main clauses with a coordinating conjunction), rendering the issue of fragments rather moot. :-)}

Bewildered by the antics of the birds in flight, I glanced back at Bessie, still guarding the downed raven - only to see the bird struggle into the air, desparate to catch its fellow avians as they flew forever onward...

Suddenly, Bessy Maes' head jerked back into the direction of the forest, ... with ravens circling above, and within the trees, ... a strange erie mist, or smokey vale, surrounding an image of what looked like a primative witchdoctor, or shaman, standing with hands raised upward.

Elspode worked his theramin like a man possessed.

Confused, yet mesmerised, ...I again heard the Shaman says these words,
"Elspode worked his theramin like a man possessed", upon which I noticed one of the survivors at the SUV begin to wave and move his arms about, like playing an instrument of some sort.

It was UT playing the thick string guitar, and as his hypnotic melody swelled up to the heavens in conjuction with Patrick's playing:

I call to the East, the power of air
I call to the West, the waters of life
I call to the South, the power of fire
And to earth in the North in the pale moonlight...

"Dammit, if we haven't given the birds "Human Flu"!" I laughed to myself inappropriately, then turned to the musician and shaman and realized it was already too late for them......

The tell-tale signs were already appearing: redness and swelling about the eyes, the puss-filled ring of sores rising around the neck, and the desire to scratch and pull at the skin and hair as the irritation became unbearable - then would begin the laboured breathing and coughing, and within the hour the victim would fall comatose and be beyond redemption as the virus completed its attack and overwhelmed every internal organ....

The shaman said "if this condition lasts for more than four hours, consult a physician". A group of birds, in a "V" formation embedded themselves into the shaman's torso, like sperm into an egg.

And, behold! A mysterious new creature was the result! The Shamen turned into a large blue black raven, quoth the word "Nevermore" and flew off into the sky!

The flu gave the shaman/raven diarrhea. In seconds, we covered in white ickiness.

Bessy Mae jumped and frolicked, and watched as the spirit of the "departed" scattered veils
of angel dust (albiet white and icki) across the survivors, into which the shaman spoke to the dogs' spirit .

..." take this residue , for I had a dream of the ravens of death, and the chance meeting of these souls that may carry on".

So, with no recourse, Bessy licked up the fallen "natural icki" antibiotics, and headed to the back 40 to squat out cultures for Anti-Jockitchimosis

*there later seemed a situation involving female gender by way of...*

I jerked awake, breathing deeply, from my strange and frightenly real dream about vials and ravens.

My dry eyes creaked open to the bright afternoon sun, which was warming the exposed skin through my ripped and torn clothing...

Jeez, I thought, not another groundhog experience......

"CUT!" shouted Barry Jones, the director. "Most dead people dont open their eyes, so lets try this one more time."

Bessy Mae, looks inquistively at all the players, on this last "cut", then jumps into the front seat of the crumpelled Camero, and gives a coon call/howel (meaning in dog talk = YOU go drag some deadweights out of these cars, and eat white ick, ... i'm a coonhound, not some male collie dressed in drag, named "Lassie")

I closed my eyes for take 267, but when I opened them again, I was in a boat, in the middle of a mist-shrouded lake. In the boat, with me, appeared to be dozens of dead, feces-covered gerbils. "my pants are still on" said the voice behind me.

Take 666: I dreamed I was a raven rising on a warm updraft into the Texas sky. Beneath me I saw some idiot and his coonhound. Dick Cheney turned and fired just at the same moment that I saw of flock of starlings with bad coughs wheel and head in my direction...

"Dammit! My project has gone straight to hell!" cried Kagen4o4 as he stared at the plummeting tatters of his story by sentence thread

Bessy Mae licks self.

The end.

is not even close, yet. Over the next few weeks the sexually transmitted virus spread, strangely from ravens, to camel, to scarecrows, to humans.

* meanwhile screenwriters gather at the Producers desk asking for their union wages*

The Georgia state legislature enacted a ban on having sex with scare crows, but backwoods Georgians just crossed state lines and were found in motel rooms having sex with their cousins, anyhow.

And the cows mooooed "mo"

, their last uttererance cut short by the arrival of.....

ronald mcdonald

Ronald steps in between the good ol Georgia boys and the bovines.

He spanks the left flank of one, and nods.. "yummmy" (bovine butt, that is)

He then turns to the good ol boys and wags his finger in their faces.

In a scolding tone he utters "you boys are in Alabama now. We don't allow cross-staters trying to make cows squeal like pigs, no matter how akin you are to em"

Ronald spies a young heifer standing in the motel bathroom doorway, and asks "How much for the little girl?"

To which the good ol boys consider a reply... maybe an auction...

*Item # 123987 for potential sale*http://excoboard.com/forums/15480/us...087/164705.gif

Ronald says "you guys are from Georgia?" They all nod.
"Then what are you doing with cows? Georgians like bulls, not cows, you toothless cousin-humping mongrels! Where's Mayor McCheese and...