One exercise in writing I have always enjoyed is wring a "bad story". It can be a hokey story, it can have something wrong with it, it doesn't matter, it just has to be something you would never dream of publishing, but had a lot of fun writing. I think it is a great way to exercise our literary muscles, because we are alll ingrained to write "good stories". The following is my contibution:

“Gunfight at the Mediocre Train Depot Shack”

Angel Sunshine, the beautiful and innocent librarian of Cityville, the dusty old Western town in Arizona that looked like every other, but was individual all the same, was walking down the seemingly empty street singing a glorious song with her tremendously dulcet-toned voice about her one true love, Sheriff Hero Goodman, who was tough, seemed rough, but had a heart of gold, when a menacing figure in black jumped in front of her and cackled wildly.

It was Dark Evilguy, a known hardened criminal and general ne’er-do-well who really could not be blamed for his crimes because his mother had shut him in the closet for agonizing seconds and his father only loved the dog, Flanders, who farted in the closet, which made Dark throw up and put him back in said closet, where he began to lose his mind and scheme his evil schemes. He had murky, malevolent eyes and shady, sinful hair, with a pale complexion that aroused suspicion in a place where tans where normal. But Dark was part albino, inherited from his great-great-great-great-great grandfather Bob Evilguy.

“You are mine, Angel Sunshine!” Dark cackled frighteningly, seizing her roughly and heaving her quickly onto his nearby and strangely convenient black stallion Whitey.

“Oh, no!” Angel wailed despairingly. “I am but an innocent librarian! How will I survive?”

She wept uncontrollably, and fainted dead away. Soon they reached Dark’s secret lair, which is now not so secret. If only someone was following, they could see that the nefarious criminal had been hiding out at the old and rickety closed down train depot shack. It seemed that he had been living here ever since his escape from jail three months ago. Dark threw Angel into the shack, locking the door with a resounding click and a sinister chuckle.

The whole incident reminded Angel of the time Gary Baddude had snatched her from the library while sorting out the books for the semi-biannual book sale for blind crippled orphans from deepest darkest Peru and tied her to the train tracks that lay not five feet from where she was now.

“You can’t do this!” She had protested weakly.
“Yes, I can!” Gary snickered snidely!
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”

Angel shook her head. Now was not the time to be thinking of that. This mishap seemed hopelessly worse than the last. The shack was oppressing and dank. And dark.

Really dark.

Extremely dark.

Angel could not think of what to do, she was so frightened. It was so horribly terrible she sat down and sobbed until she almost suffocated and passed out on the floor.

* * *

She awoke to bright light.

Really bright light.

It was Dark, leering grossly.

“There is a way for you to survive this, Angel.”

“How?” She asked desperately, wringing her hands.

“Marry me.”

“Never!” She gasped loudly and turned away.

“Then die!” He yelled angrily.

“You can’t kill me!”
“Why not?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”

With the last question there was a voice

“Hands up, Mr. Evillguy!”

It was Hero Goodman, standing with the light shining behind him and his white stallion, Obsidian. He had a hard look in his twinkly blue eyes that reminded Angel of unyielding stone, like the sapphire ring he had given her just yesterday. The two enemies stare at each other steadfastly, when Dark twitched nervously and ran.

“Stop, or I’ll shoot!” Hero screamed, pulling out his shiny gun.

Dark ran onto the train tracks, never looking back. Hero paused only a moment and shot Dark in the knee.

“You could have killed me,” Dark grimaced painfully.

“Yes, but justice will take care of you!” Hero affirmed grandly.

“Not today!” Dark grinned maliciously and attempted to shoot Hero with a hidden gun, but Hero knocked the gun away and handed the criminal to Deputy Dave Decent.

“My Hero,” Angel beamed beautifully.

“You are safe now. Angel?”

“Yes?”

“Have you considered what I asked of you yesterday?” Hero posed worriedly.

“Yes. The answer is yes I will marry you!”

Angel took Hero's hand and they walked slowly toward the sunset before embracing romantically in a chaste and innocent way, comforted by the fact that they would always have each other.

THE END

'Wisdom comes to all of us. Someday it might even be your turn.' -Polgara the Sorceress
"To the pain!" Dread Pirate Roberts
"People are stupid" Wizard's First Rule

Ha. I'll keep in mind this is supposed to be a "bad" story while critiquing.

Angel Sunshine, the beautiful and innocent librarian of Cityville, a dusty old Western town in Arizona that looked like every other, yet was unique all the same, was walking down the seemingly empty street singing a glorious song with her tremendously dulcet-toned voice about her one true love, Sheriff Hero Goodman, who was tough, seemed rough, but had a heart of gold, when a menacing figure in black jumped in front of her and cackled wildly. (Was the run-on intended? If so, leave it, if not, I'd break it up into another sentence or two)

It was Darc Evillegai (did this just to change the spelling without the meaning. I always liked in stories where the names where obviously intended to have meaning but weren't the literal words), a known hardened criminal and general ne’er-do-well who really could not be blamed for his crimes because his mother had shut him in the closet for agonizing seconds and his father only loved the dog, Flanders, who farted in the closet, which made Darc throw up which put him back in said closet, where he began to lose his mind and scheme his evil schemes. He had murky, malevolent eyes and shady, sinful hair, with a pale complexion that aroused suspicion in a place where (what if you put a little playful wording next) it was be tanned or banned. But Darc was part (part?) albino, inherited from his great-great-great-great-great grandfather Bob Evillegai.

“You are mine, Angel Sunshine!” Darc cackled frighteningly, seizing her roughly and heaving her quickly onto his nearby and strangely convenient black stallion Whitey. (certainly got a laugh out of me)

“Oh, no!” Angel wailed despairingly. “I am but an innocent librarian! How will I survive?” (I'm not so sure about the how will I survive part. What is she trying to survive? The better question would be "Who will save me?!" or "Fiddlesticks, I'm helpless!")

She wept uncontrollably, and fainted into oblivion. Soon they reached Darc’s secret lair, which is now simply not so secret. If only someone was following, they could see that the nefarious criminal had been hiding out at the old and rickety closed down train depot shack. It seemed that he had been living here ever since his escape from jail three months ago. Darc threw Angel into the shack, locking the door with a resounding click and a sinister chuckle.

The whole incident reminded Angel of the time Gary Baddude had snatched her from the library while sorting out the books for the semi-biannual book sale for blind crippled orphans from deepest darkest Peru and tied her to the train tracks that lay not five feet from where she was now.

“You can’t do this!” She had protested weakly.
“Yes, I can!” Gary snickered snidely!
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!”
“No, you can’t!”
“Yes, I can!” (honestly, was that many necessary?)

Angel shook her head. Now was not the time to be thinking of that. This mishap seemed hopelessly worse than the last. The shack was oppressing and dank. And dark.

Really dark.

Extremely dark.

Angel could not think of what to do, she was so frightened. It was so horribly terrible she sat down and sobbed until she almost suffocated and passed out on the floor.

* * *

She awoke to bright light.

Really bright light.

It was Darc, leering grossly.

“There is a way for you to survive this, Angel.”

“How?” She asked desperately, wringing her hands.

“Marry me.”

“Never!” She gasped loudly and turned away.

“Then die!” He yelled angrily.

“You can’t kill me!”
“Why not?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?”
“Because!”
“Why?” (oh man. same question as before)

With the last question there was a voice

“Hands up, Mr. Evillegai!”

It was Hero Goodman, standing with the light shining behind him and his white stallion, Obsidian. He had a hard look in his twinkly blue eyes that reminded Angel of unyielding stone, like the sapphire ring he had given her just yesterday. The two enemies stared at each other steadfastly, then Darc twitched nervously and ran.

“Stop, or I’ll shoot!” Hero screamed, pulling out his shiny gun.

Darc ran onto the train tracks, never looking back. Hero paused only a moment and shot Darc in the knee.

“You could have killed me,” Darc grimaced painfully.

“Yes, but justice will take care of you!” Hero affirmed grandly.

“Not today!” Darc grinned maliciously and attempted to shoot Hero with a hidden gun, but Hero knocked the gun away and handed the criminal to Deputy Dave Decent.

“Hero, you saved me! You're my Hero, Hero,” Angel beamed beautifully.

“You are safe now... Angel?”

“Yes?”

“Have you considered what I asked of you yesterday?” Hero posed worriedly.

“Yes. The answer is yes I will marry you!”

Angel took Hero's hand and they walked slowly toward the sunset before embracing romantically in a chaste and innocent way, comforted by the fact that they would always have each other.

THE END

This really reminds me of a story I once wrote (and subsequently lost, except a portion may still be alive in email somewhere) called Moose Story. It covered the adventures of Sir Joe as he battled Moose, Evil Moose Twin, Moose Clone, and Llama (among others).

I look foreword to seeing the end of your bad story (and by end I mean when its finished, done, these all sound like when its dead, but not really that far, just when its writhing in pain, and completed )

HAVE A NICE DAY!

~Aeras

Yes its intended to be a run-on, and yes that many are necessary- that is why its a "bad" story. The resoning for the extended "yes I am" "no I'm not" sort of thing is because it looked better hand written becaus it ook a couple pages, and it got to the point of silliness. Also, as a playwright, I saw the visual possibilities of that sequence.)

'Wisdom comes to all of us. Someday it might even be your turn.' -Polgara the Sorceress
"To the pain!" Dread Pirate Roberts
"People are stupid" Wizard's First Rule

Hello Eap, if you wouldn't mind reposting your work with any changes you've made, I can continue to help you develop this. If you feel it is complete and no longer in need of any further suggestions, then please inform Lynn so she can lock it. Have a great day.

HAVE A NICE DAY!

~Aeras

Uhh... I'm done with my part, but I'd like the post to stay open as it is a challenge post for other writers to write a "bad" story. My original intent was to share some of the silly and awful things we had written just to get writing, not necessarily to develop those stories. I apologize if my original intent was missed.

'Wisdom comes to all of us. Someday it might even be your turn.' -Polgara the Sorceress
"To the pain!" Dread Pirate Roberts
"People are stupid" Wizard's First Rule

Hey Eap,

If your intent was to simply write these, or post these, bad stories and not to have them critiqued or developed, you should contact Lynn and discuss with her whether this topic is better suited for the Workshop, GD or Prose forums. While the workshop is more inclined to writing than GD, it's prime directive is for the critique and betterment of one's writing. If you're goal is simply to share these stories, then I encourage you to do so, but I feel the prose forum is the best fit for a topic of this nature.

As I said, I would contact lynn and consider asking her to move it to the Prose forums, or just reopen it there (copy and paste your first post) and have this topic locked so that my replies won't appear in the thread (so only the stories are displayed). Have a great day!

HAVE A NICE DAY!

~Aeras

Why should there be a question of where to post it? At the top of the Workshop forum it has a post stating that all challenges will be now posted in the workshop area. That's what I did.

'Wisdom comes to all of us. Someday it might even be your turn.' -Polgara the Sorceress
"To the pain!" Dread Pirate Roberts
"People are stupid" Wizard's First Rule