Anonymous A started this discussion 10 years ago#48,304
The second that Mark Gambino turned onto Frenchman street, he knew that he had made a terrible mistake. New Orleans was covered in chilly fog, which never happened, and the Mississippi had been rising steadily, but without rain. Almost no one was out except the creepy, desperate souls who always haunted the French Quarter, and Mark. He had no choice.
It wasn’t the fog that made him regret walking onto Frenchman, nor the echoes of the dripping water from some hidden balcony. It wasn’t even the swirling, dark forms that the fog formed as it wisped around the lampposts and into doorways. Instead, it was a sickening feeling that began in his stomach, and moved quickly up to his face and into the reptilian stem of his brain. It was a primal hunch, an ancient part of his brain that had learned to avoid danger millions of years ago. He stopped walking and became perfectly still, like a lizard that senses a predator. He tried to control his breathing so he wouldn’t make any noise, and he carefully moved his eyeballs around to see what was there.
He saw nothing, but he felt everything – the foggy fingers that caressed his cheeks threateningly; the little particles of mist that landed on his eyelids and gathered into drops and ran down his face; the echo of the empty street ahead; the looming building on both sides of him, leaning in as if to snatch him up and devour him.
brie !K97EToNZCM joined in and replied with this 10 years ago, 2 minutes later[^][v]#631,197
I've found that I can't write properly anymore.
I blame it on exposure to the Minichanfic.
Anonymous C joined in and replied with this 10 years ago, 25 minutes later, 27 minutes after the original post[^][v]#631,201
@previous (brie !K97EToNZCM)
Have you tried writing a short story about an undiagnosed transgendered trucker and a lonely anonymous turkey on their way home for thanksgiving?
brie !K97EToNZCM replied with this 10 years ago, 7 minutes later, 34 minutes after the original post[^][v]#631,203