Twitch Stream Story: Salted Firstborn

Prompt: The prompt for this story was actually a drawing of a small fishing boat near two giant creatures, one submerged in the water and one flying nearby.

The pterafriend pumped its wings and pulled them through the clouds swiftly, so its passenger wouldn’t get too wet in the process. What the passenger wanted to do exactly was not clear, he had some sort of strange vessel, but he was friendly enough, and the pterafriend offered rides to anyone and anything that was friendly enough. Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: The Art’s getting Away!

Prompt: A slice of life in a Minecraft-like world.

She had a scrape on each knee. Why were boys so cruel? She poked at the scratches and hissed through the pain. She could see little red crystals in them, not the result of her drying blood. She had been pushed into the hole she’d spent all morning digging. It was a perfect square, wide as a hot tub, and just deep enough to scrape you if you fell in.

She lived in in a small town, just off the outer angles of the city Blida. The town was called Rangshed and it was known for its pliable agreeable ground. It certainly didn’t feel that way to Lilly while she dug into it on the raised hill of her backyard. She’d been told that there was a time when the ground used to be made of much smaller pieces. Her parents told her, with a straight face no less, that the ground used to be like powder, and one scoop of a shovel could move thousands of pieces of it. Continue reading

Chat-your-own-Adventure #9: Have you Read that Blob Article?

Author’s Note: This story was written live on stream with the audience bidding tokens (earned while watching) to determine the path of the story.  The underlined phrases in the choice of three were the winning pathways.  Stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade if you’d ever like to participate in our interactive fiction.

Caverns and Pets            Canyon and Child Support                Diving and Visits

The cloud bank passed overhead just as a flock of small skates flapped by beneath their boat. Their movement was perfectly matched, as if the fish used the clouds as roaming shade. Lucas and Beryl sat on opposite sides of the boat, preparing their equipment for the dive ahead. They were already clad in skintight neoprene suits with a colorful stripe down the side. Lucas was Green. Beryl was purple. Continue reading

Chat-your-own-Adventure #8: Stupid Dumb Pals

Author’s Note: This story was written live on stream with the audience bidding tokens (earned while watching) to determine the path of the story.  The underlined phrases in the choice of three were the winning pathways.  Stop by twitch.tv/blainearcade if you’d ever like to participate in our interactive fiction.

Curious Letter                        Affectionate Letter                              Coded Letter

Little Vince marched through the snow towards their postbox. His mother had scolded him on his way out the door for braving the driving snow and wind. The postman wouldn’t come for three days yet, that was true, but the letter practically burned his hands. He didn’t need a coat, or a scarf, or even mittens because it was so warm. It was the best letter he’d ever written for his friend and he couldn’t bare to hold onto it. If he did, he might decide something needed changed. Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: Classified Beasts

Prompt: A dragon steals the latest fighter craft from the human battleship.

Artillery shells exploded all around her as she tried to keep on her path through the otherwise clear skies. Pieces of shrapnel, aluminum hairs, landed in the gooey corners of her eyes and stung them. She roared, flashing her knife-like teeth, and tried to dig them out with the side of her hand. The weapons didn’t stop. They weren’t like the weapons of old; there was always somebody manning those, somebody who might grow a soul and stop attacking. Continue reading

Twitch Stream Story: The Kebab Appointment

Prompt: A child adopted by a drug dealer, and the drug dealer actually uses a kebab shop as a front company for selling drugs.

Some complained that the shop smelled terrible. Others said it was wonderful to wake up to. Both groups stopped vocalizing their opinions about one week after the kebab shop moved in. That was the way of its smells, its private recipes. They quickly became part of the air, a warmth in it rather than a scent, and nobody who lived there even remembered it had ever been a point of argument. Their neighborhood smelled of it, and only visitors cared. Continue reading