/lit/ - Literature

A black cat walking on the street at night and he's all like not giving a fuck about haters.

Town has germanic architectural influence...I'm sure I've seen it before. Cat on the prowl. It's beautiful (I really like it). Sexual connotations? It's night but it's very bright (does that mean something). Could it mean urban living's dissociation with night? In that, we no longer know what it is, and no longer sleep?

That is all. I like it.

>>2355125
>Sexual connotations?
Nope
>implying you're not into zoolophilia
are you?

Strasbourg by night, near the famous cathedral. Moon and clouds … and the light from the windows gleaming on the brick pavement. A black cat paced the courtyard, his eyes giving back the light of the moon.

A 500x490 jpeg

OP here. Not a native English speaker so it sucks but I tried...

Full moon has painted the market square's cobbles with its pale light. The jugend buildings are lit from within, but the city center is empty except for a black, short-haired cat who wanders around with its tail lift up, perhaps looking for a snack or a shadowy alley where it could shapeshift back into her naked, raven-haired female form… who knows on a night such as this.

>>2355145
I hate Strasbourg, can we pretend it's somewhere else? And can the cat be all like "Where da pussy at?"

>Baltimore ghetto, cat pimpin his wares by the moonlight… he smell some honkey tail. Where dat pussy at?

>>2355110
A fire will begin.

The ground has been paved with brownies, the sky is made from liquorish cawtein kandy with a big marshmellow and the houses are rich gingerbread mansions with many windows and stories

Emilies cat found this place under the cupboard and knows that for every houses path she crosses, a witch will spawn in there which will eat any children who come along to chew on the houses in the future

The cat is also batman

>>2355170
It's the most nuanced and beautiful thing I have ever read. The combination of Baltimore ghetto dialect and faggotry can't help but bring to mind the beautiful blue smoke of a $1.00 Cuban reject cigar.

cat poop roof moon cat poop .
dog.

beautiful lil black kitty strolling along the cobblestones under moonlight through the town centre courtyard of some euro country

>>2355220

Eraserhead Press would publish it.

Bad luck crossed paths with me that night, as I headed towards her house with large steps, avoiding the eyes of that lighthouse spying me through the clouds. I had to tell her the secret.

The cat walked across the town square.

> black cat
> full moon
> bavarian architecture

Beware a girl in pointy shoes!

In praha: The blue fuck? You trespass here. A cat shrugs stiffly into a purposeful slouch--a golden mouse i charge thee! the moon is a hemorrhoid.hanging out off the asshole of night.
"Behold, i will smite thee with the botch of Egypt, and with the scab, and with the itch, whereof thou canst not be healed"
I am drowned in praha, full gutted with a gout of drizzle out of cobbled lanes and frost-rimed gutters, The lights draw cracks upon the ground of the plaza and the cat walks through them like he knows the way, but he knows nothing. his future is as locked up as my past: unknown and unthought of in the heathen future night,

lil'black cat izz crossin le'plaza iz gon eet yoar chillren.

>>2355259


go out pussy, and bring me back something golden. Peradventure I will lighten my hand from off you, and from off your gods.
I have drunk too much in taverns, in rathskellers and in sorrow of my own making. In places like this: cobbled and awkward and oddly lit. fit only for the trespassing tramp of fugitive felines. Fit only for grief.

>>2355265
Some Cajun influence?

>>2355268
>>2355259

Not bad.

>>2355271
http://www.ehow.com/video_2338588_cook-boudin-sausage.html

>>2355259
>>2355268

what is this?

The moon shed her soulful light across the sleepy town's worn cobblestone. The clouds, jealous of her daring glow tried to coil around her with little success. She was simply to magnificent to be caught. The steeping slopes of the roofs cast little shadows, and their windows leak warm light to dance with her majesty's.

A small, dark form patters across the street. Perked ears and swaying tail point toward an animal, and the soft "mrrow" proves cat.
Now you know why I don't write for a living. Painting Pictures with Purple Prose.

>>2355281

seconded

> bad verse
> hipster prose

reason why I never normally come here itt

I did not come there to find love, but damnation. (the black cat has crossed thee, and woe be thy steps...) the taverna was a rusticated tudor thing, drawn up with faked out half-timbering anf spalling stucco plasterwork that was hell on painters. The cobbles stumbled me and skewed my drunken steps out onto the empty street. dead drunk was better than dead, at least tonight. This aye night, this fire and sleet and candlelight evening in the troll-haunted winter of some unimaginable city in the fucking bleeding asshole of the last dying fag-end of the Warsaw pact.

Life is different when you walk on all fours. The moon shines on you with a different glare, the buildings seem to lean to you, all in all every step you take is like descending one jet black pit. But then, something unexpected happens; reflexions become mazes. Your eyes see things they shouldn't, your fur stands on the sight of such things, and you run like you've never ran before from them. And every rooftop is your friend, because they can't climb at night. The moonlit sky is too bright for such wretches. Consider this your new haven.

Thanks for making me write shitty abstract paragraphs, /lit/.

>>2355299


There's such a thing as "hipster prose"?

I thought i was writing pretentious twaddle...

i see some pussy i'm going to fuck

Bright Lights, Big Kitty.

A tomcat walks across the stone-paved square. He is not wary of the town lights, but they do not invite him either, and they are far enough to be disregarded. The marvel of electric light, the architecture, even the hewn stones under his feet are all but lost on the cat; he can appreciate the warmth, but most of it is so much window dressing to him. He's not hungry, he just caught a mouse, and he visited a pussycat earlier so that doesn't concern him, and like any good cat he slept most of the day away, so he's not tired. He strays, as strays do. He wanders, as animals with brains are wont to do from time to time. He wanders through the small city that was once a town, the town that was once a village, the village that was once a forest, where his ancestors roamed alongside ours, hunting and sleeping and wandering and watching, looking to better themselves or just pass the time. Eventually he will stop, and merely watch the city, and the mountains, and the forest, and finally sleep a good sleep. Until then, like all of us, he wanders.


I didn't know I had that in me.

In the silver of shimmering moon
lies the city in midnight's noon
with worn down cobbled streets
in background lights ablaze.

A lonesome soul retreats
into the sable maze.

Dang ole cat just straight up doing his walking business.

>>2355324


I'll show you pretentious twaddle:

"...and woke up in Linz, with my hat on my face and the sun had burned leaf-shadows into my back. A stout black tom had taken the office of constable upon himself, and was busily kneading the sunburn into my skin with the bright apostrophes of his claws for punctuation on each release and plunge. He rolled off as I rolled up, and, duty done, preceded me toward the still lit bar.

The moon was a rotten grapefruit looming through the scud, and I seemed to smell the ocean, though the whole damn country has been landlocked since 1918. The sway of my steps along the flags made me seasick, and the music of the concertina and the sickening smell of fried pilchards made me think twice of parting the shutters and drawing up to the bar. I got a spotted green chair out of the leak of the house and lent it against the wall. "Pernod! I wheeze at the doorway! " Pernod,as you desire heaven!"

"..... somewhere in the distance, a dog barked"

>>2355388
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Pushing a little before or past 9:00 PM, a black cat traverses an empty space reminiscent of Medieval town squares or Greek agoras. Presumably, the buildings are all placed adjacently to form what any human would intuitively perceive as a chic strip mall. Among these, the illuminated four-story building in the off-center is more than likely a hotel, while the rest are probably shops, populated by homespun products of marginal quality. The bright white moonlight proves that in some parts of the world, there is no such thing as darkness. Absence of light is impossible when faced with a clear sky, whether it is day or night. The cat will continue her trajectory and pursue her menial existence.

nigger cat walks

For free: Black cat, never loved.

>>2355388

>midnight's noon

No. I will not allow it.

>>2355463
Five stars.

>>2355472

Goethe used it first, so fuck you.

>>2355482

That doesn't make it any less ridiculous.

>>2355482

then that makes you both unoriginal and lame

Joe woke up. He watched the cat stalk away. Did the cat lead him here? Where exactly was here?

Les pavés de la grande place luisaient doucement sous les rayons de la lune, que quelques nuages diffus tentaient vainement de masquer. Les grandes maisons en colombage abritaient une vie grouillante et invisible, dont seules témoignaient les fenêtres encore éclairées malgré l'heure tardive.
Un chat noir passa.


Come at me, frenchies!

>>2355495
>>2355491

>>2355501
>Les grandes maisons
Vous avez utilises 'grande' dans la premiere phrase; dites Les maisons germaniques ou quelque chose comme ca.

>>2355482
Goethe wasn't a retard. In the pic, the moon is very clearly not at its highest point. It's not noon.

>>2355463
You tainted the picture with horrible sadness.

>>2355511

Prove that it's not at the highest point.

A black cat walked through the darkened cobblestone square. Across the way, the lights of a expensive hotel shone.

Jesus Christ guys. You don't need a paragraph of unnecessary flowery bullshit to set a fucking scene.

>>2355517

look at it you fucking retard. midnight = orthogonal to your point of view

>>2355525
>nofunallowed.jpg

>>2355463
mfw

A meowgly moggy crawled a moonlit square, the olifaction of gluvine and sick at her nose. Yum, said the cat, fat from its feed, a half alley rat it had shared.

Suck it.

>>2355110
Night.
Cat, buildings, street.

>>2355110
A black cat prowls the empty plaza on a cloudy night

>>2355525

>the lights of a expensive hotel shone
>the lights of a expensive hotel
>lights of a expensive hotel
>of a expensive hotel
>a expensive hotel
>a expensive

There once was a cat from Prague
Who was described increasingly vague
So he said eat shit
Fuck you all /lit/
I hope Pynchon dies of the plague

>>2355352
>I didn't know I had that in me.

You mean a cock?

>>2355551

Prague (PRAY-G)

>>2355526

What the fuck are you even on about.

>orthogonal to your point of view.

is just a meaningless sentence, something can only be orthogonal in 2-dimensions.

>>2355110
It is not day.
There is not a forest, nor mountains, nor any natural structure bordering what is beneath what is not any animal but a cat.

>>2355562

Just 'cause I'm drinking doesn't mean you get to revoke my poetic license.

>>2355110
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IMbyeJaezIg

>>2355568

90 degrees you stupid underaged cunt, do you want me to spell it out for you? directly above, fucking idiot

We met. the cat and I, in the piazza del vecchio, washed up on the shores of abandonment, orphans of a dying afternoon. He treated me distantly looking over his shoulder with the same high contempt i give to those who drink whiskey but don't drink enough to get drunk. He considered me a dilettante, i feel sure. We bummed around Europe all one summer, eating toasted salmon and drinking sauterne when time could be spared from whores, heroin and nightchasing after rats and strumpets.
we parted ways in Prague, in the plaza before the foot of the Glasgow Arms, or some shit name coughed at by some committee over piles of papers with the gin-reek of a long late lunch. A shit name for a shit place. I was going there, and that had apparently finally exceeded the limits of his amused tolerance for my addiction to filth and commercialized whimsy. I can't say I blame him. He should have left me in Reno, but i guess that kind of sad excess held some sort of aesthetic or perhaps scientific appeal for him. The last I saw him was his ass-in-the-air, snidenery as he sauntered out of the shade of the awning in the direction of the bug-eyed moon..

's a cat, you fucking prick.

next.

>>2355618
>>2355397
>>2355352
>>2355285
>>2355317


some of this is almost good enough for the Bulwer-lytton.

The cat walked. The sky was clouded, but the moon shone through. The square was ringed with the soft light of night in the town. The cobblestones stretched out into the distance. The cat walked.

>>2355110

There's a bird in the yellow building, over the other side of the plein, in the flat three stories up. She's currently watching gay porn and flicking her bean to a ridiculous extent.

You find this idea arousing.

>>2355110

Woah. Deja vu.

>>2355632

It was a dark and stormy night, before a stark and dormy height, where a Krank und Drang-y cat
walked his lank and seamy sleight

WOOOW BLACK CATTY
BAMBALAM
WOOOOW BLACK CATTY
BAMBALAM

THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT NOW, GOD? I'M A FUCKING CAT NOW IS IT? FUCK YOU. JUST GIVE ME THE FUCKING JOB.

MAYBE THIS TIME I'LL QUAMTUM LEAP THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AND INTO YOUR ASS WHERE I'LL GIVE YOU FUCKING PROSTATE CANCER. HEY? HOW THE FUCK WILL YOU LIKE THAT, GOD? FUCKING PROSTATE CANCER CAUSED BY ME, AS A CAT UP, UP YOUR FUCKING ASS.

AH SHIT, LETS GET THIS FUCKING NONSENSE OVER WITH.

"so there I was, in the edge of the beer garden, tripping over moonlit cobblestones, trailing a fine piece of black pussy toward the Hotel Munchausen"

Sarah was snatched from the normal world on her 8th birthday by a wicked underground high magical society and turned into a cat against her will Why an animal? Human slavery is forbidden over there.

The society uses extremely experienced magical fates to peer into the future of randomly selected children. If they see that the natural life line of the child was to be stopped cold by an extremely unfortunate fated circumstance, they steal the child.


Now, poor sarah has an overwhelming job. With tears dripping off of her poor little cat nose, she pushes the wet material intbetween the newly pressed bricks into the ground. Although her paws are bloody and raw, if she doesn't continue pressing in the material, she knows they are going to cut her tail off in the morning. The bricks have a red tint to them lit up by the moon light because they carry a small layer of dry dusty blood left over from when she was walking over the bricks

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed on the street into a black cat.

This city looks a lot better at night. Though it's always a challenge to get away from the gypsies and picks, but not here. It was easy here. The only tall buildings here are plaster and wood, and more importantly have spirit; lights always on that murmur and din of parties winding down unlike the stoic soulless facades that tower over American cities. The moon's out, a sickly warm white, comforting, no matter where you are the moon is the moon. There an alley cat, like any other, prowling the ages old streets. Hunting maybe for a meal, or a mate, and maybe for a home. Who knows what I'll find.

can an cat be an athlete?

I'd like to point out that most of these aren't descriptive of the picture, they're conjectural about what a story related to the picture might be about.

The black cat prowled the cobble stoned streets of Munich in the bright white light of a full moon.

In the middle of the day, this large looming space whale appeared with this glowing white eye. Everybody turned on their lights to see what was the matter. Shortly afterwards, nobody dared to go outside.

>>2355661
Dude what I don't even --

a black cat walking across a cobblestone courtyard toward a line of brightly lit Tudor buildings under moonlight on a cloudy night. He seems to be in a hurry.

The gay black cat of the gay OP stalked across the centre of Brussel, looking for ass.

>>2355668

Is it Brussels? I wrote Munich, but I have no idea where that pic was actually taken.

>>2355596

>Simple question to prove my point that you don't have a clue what you're talking about:

Directly 'above' what exactly?

>>2355669

dude, it's Dresden. If you look closely at the clouds around the moon, you'll see the allied bombers coming to bomb the shit out of the place. The cat symbolizes Fritz Haber.

>>2355675
where are all the refugees which had filled the city to overflowing? I don't think you are correct.

>>2355110


A black cat, shuddering with the sudden irrational certainty that somewhere a pack of faggots were describing him with sesquipedalian prose-poemy shit, hurried across the stones of the brightly lit plazza toward the lights of a tudor hotel, in hopes of a quick pint before he killed himself.

The moon shone in the sky despite the heavy covering of clouds. A black cat, well kept, stalked past as I sat up on the cobblestones and stared bleary eyed at the lights of the city just off in the distance. It appeared the cat and I would be heading the same way that night.

The image came from a pseudo-intellectual image board. It was a place filled with teenagers who still had a sense of romanticism, long dead in millions of others after two hundred years of failed idealism. But these lacklustre men still held hope, writhing in misogynistic masturbation, that life could be for them - that they could be Napoleon, strolling around Bruges in boots, instead of pussyfooting around an empty kitchen at three in the morning.

A cat stalks across the town square in the moonlight.

You could go into describing architecture, feeling etc but it would be overkill

The cat waits to kill the man, who had milk and did not want to give.

>>2355690

"stalks" was also overkill. And a shocking cliche.

>cats stalking
>2012

>>2355674

above the point on planet Earth where, at that moment, it is 00:00, idiot.

The Daily Telegraph: The famous absurdist artist Hans Furtzel has been placing stuffed animals all over southern Germany

The cat stalked across the plaza like some stalking animal..Perhaps a cat.

The cobbles bore the weight of a cat. She was a light burden, all things considered.

The cat's eyes yearn for the heart of a good man. And so, the plaza on that cloudy night was empty.

A cat travel's through the street, in a historic town.
Yet, he doesn't know the truth hidden within the mountains he walks on.
Man, my english sucks.

Chuck Testas plan to impress the judges was working perfectly. By posting this picture of his stuffed cat /lit/ and asking for a description,, he could show off just how many people wanted to try to *convey* a *live* cat as if it was actually real and not done by chuck tesa

The judges fell back in their chairs and howled with laughter at the blundering fools responding as if the cat was actually a live cat and awarded chuck testa the internet spheal of approval

Black panther on the loose in the city of Worwickshire, famous for its giant cobblestones.

It looked like a cat was walking across the cobbles that night. The thing-that-was-not-cat was proud of its deception.

There was this bar, see. In germany somewhere. They had these two fat waitresses name Gert and Una.They were sisters, i think, and for ten dollars American they'd take you in the pantry and Gert would stand and smoke them french cigarettes and kiss you while Una sucked you off. Many a time I've breathed in that smoke while Una grunted and swallowed me with her sisters fingers playing through her hair..

across form the pantry in the hall was a picture of a cat walking across a square toward some buildings. the moon was above the horizon in some clouds. and the light didn't seem to be coming from anywhere. I always meant to ask where they got that picture, but then I'd come and it would slip my mind. They probably cut it out of a calendar or some shit.

>>2355721

There is no 'point' on plant earth were it is 00:00, only a line, so I repeat my question.

So I'm sitting in some dive in Burbank and a black car walks across the cobbles outside. I'm a cat who digs a cat, so I point the beast out to the guy sitting beside me, some flat-out degenerate that usually I'd be ashamed to be seen talking to. And when I'm ashamed to talk to a guy, then believe me, that is one guy who should start being ashamed of himself.

Anyway, I point out the black cat to this guy, and he starts with this long, rambling story, it never seems to end. The only thing I can remember is how it began.

>There was this bar, see. In germany somewhere.

"and they say, on certain nights, when the moon shines through the clouds just so, and the lights from the Parker hotel limn the shapes of the cobbles of the plaza just the same as they did of old. Why they say that cat comes back, and walks across those same flags in that same moonlight.And do you think the faggots come out and describe it, just like they used too? well, now, i wouldn't be the least surprised..."

As the clouds slowly caressed and enveloped the ever gazing moon, the sound of carefree laughter and bliss soared through the night sky. Society entertained itself midst their cafe's and parlor shops, passing the time away with chatter, each prowling about looking for that enticing conversation or the perfect moment to spring a joke. Across the ways, beyond an ocean of cobblestone, was another hunter of the night, searching for his own form of entertainment and fulfillment, unbeknownst to everyone but Sentinel Luna.

sorry if this seems choppy, i just realized that I have class in 15 minutes and need to gather stuff. Any criticism would be appreciated.

>>2355771

>Any criticism would be appreciated

You can't fucking write, you pretentious fuck.

With a belly full of beer John, after all those years, finally stepped up the the edge of the town square. He was going to make it this time. He would no longer be held back. He was going to overcome his agoraphobia.

Then a bad omen appeared, a black cat walking across the square. John went back into his mothers basement and proceeded to browse /r9k/ for the rest of his days.

Fae a ways back, keeking oot oer Sauchiehall, fae one minnut, ut wus a bit like a square. Wi a wee kiity walkin' away awa tha place like he owned thae fucker.

So I set the wee black bastit ahad. Wi a zippo, but. that'll learn tha wee cunt.

On a night much like any other, a lone cat was wandering across the empty streets. The moon and street lamps shone bright, casting a long shadow behind it as it made its way silently to its unknown destination.

>>2355771

The beginning line is melodramatic and just generally feels awkward. The way you jump from "society" to "each" is strange also. You went from describing a collective group of people to individuals without any form of transition in between, and it ruins the effect of what you're trying to convey. You should have gone with "each man" or "each partygoer" or something like that. The final sentence has potential but needs a lot of polishing.

Mrrrow
Don't step on the cat, pusskins, fine fellow. Step on the cat you'll break the camel's back, and o what a folly that would be. Pussywuss with the little pawsies on the coldy coldy cobblystones, wanting to gobbly mr mouse. Outside, he's arseend, doesn't want to know me. Before all purrs and cuddles, mr furry, now all teeth, claws and arsehole. pffft.

" the cat walks across the square with its tail held nonchalantly in the air. The light from the windows the Hurleigh Hotel shines out across the cobbles of the historic district's scenic Kane Square like searchlights, seeking me in the shadows. the cat doesn't see me, or doesn't care. Like the city, like the people in the lunatic asylum at the bottom of the street. The moon looks down like an accusing eye through the veil of clouds rolling in from the harbor. behind me the signal crawls across the face of the Wayne Tower. I pull my cape closer about me and turn."

The lone black cat padded across the stone ground, shadow behind him a copy of himself, though stretched and warped. The sky was cloudly, gray, with the moon peeking out from behind the clouds that threatened to swallow it whole. Far were the buildings, both too far to reach and too close not to, somehow, and the cat stared up at them with determination. Lights poured through the windows, warm and yellow and nothing the cat was used to in his usual dark alley of a hiding spot.

--

Got a bit carried away, I think. Welp.

Outside in the moonlight, a lone black tomcat strode purposefully across the brightly lit flags of Tamerlane Square, but when I looked, all i could see was Mary's sad face as the train pulled out of Hammersmith station, that, and a Large badger in a polka dot weskit, drawing cartoons of Margaret Thatcher on the side walk with the bright green marker that protruded inconstantly from it's asshole. LSD, I pondered, can take some time to wear off....

Morey had been wandering the streets for hours, and no one had called him back. He'd grown tired of the sound of his feet tapping against the cobblestones, the sound of his breath hissing through the air, the wave of his shadow dancing on the walls. But he didn't want to go back. He was a simmering cauldron of anger and sadness, and turning around and slinking back home would only fuel the fire and leave him simmering for days.

Instead he continued to wander. He walked through the Lower District, where beggars sat huddled against the walls of market squares. He made his way up Motty's Street, frowning as a black cat crossed his path, and turned into an alley to his favorite place in the entire city. The cobblestones were cleaner here, they were walked upon so rarely that they had little opportunity to gather filth from the shoes of a wanderer such as himself. The stones had retained their golden sheen; a remnant of the older days, when the city had had money and therefore joy and splendor. The money had vanished long ago however, and with it the dignity of the city had gone also.

Morey sat against the wall of an old jewelry store that had long ago been abandoned and started to hum. He was happy here, and he would try to hold onto that feeling as long as he could.

>>2355818
The lone black cat padded across the stone ground
>hmm ok
, shadow behind him a copy of himself, though stretched and warped.
>nope.
The sky was cloudly, gray, with the moon peeking out from behind the clouds that threatened to swallow it whole.
> nope nope nope
Far were the buildings,
>pretentious
both too far to reach and too close not to, somehow, and the cat stared up at them with determination.
>Convoluted and boring.
Lights poured through the windows, warm and yellow and nothing the cat was used to in his usual dark alley of a hiding spot.
>Absolute clusterfuck of a sentence that begins with averageness and descends into shit by the time the cat comes into it.


Please don't write. Ever.

>>2355110
A black cat. Stumbling upon these mythical creatures has obstructed my thought - yes, to a woman I once knew. A gift that is a curse, I have grown weary of thinking about the past, but I continue to tread to the local pub. The cat quickly glances at me and continues towards its destination, as I let go of the thought. Even now, so many years later, her name still haunts me.

The moon and this tiny black cat are evitating me in Bündstrassburg. I need a beer.

>>2355831

Comment on this, /lit/. A little messy and undeveloped, but I thought I did okay for a five minute write up.

There's a city street. It's night and a cat is walking across the street. The street is made of cobblestones. The cat is black. The moon is behind some clouds. Lights are on in some of the buildings. The cat's holding its tail up. It's ears are laid back somewhat.

#TaoLin

And cause a cat's gotta go out walkin' in the moonlight sometimes, that's what i done.
Right out there on the cobblestone square traipsin about with mah tail in the air, like i done gone and bought the place, Moon stickin out through the fat gray clouds like a slow-match in gun cotton, fixin' to blow the whole town to hell. But does i care? No sir, not me. I'm the damn King of the Cats, and tonight I'm walkin out to the Plaza Hotel dining room, gonna has me a cheezburger. You better damn well believe me!

Some nigger cat was eloping along a cobble-stoned road with a slinky in his step. The quarantined village around him looked like a Hyatt Hotel. He gazed longingly at the cobble in front of him, hoping that Santorum would win the Republican nomination.

>>2355847

Actually, nevermind. On closer inspection I really should've done some proofreading.

>>2355847

I've read worse.
In Star Trek novels.

sorry,
it's okay.
but you're no Avram Davidson

A distant wail alerts Mr Cuddles to attention. Through every sharp intake of chill afternoon air, the sickly sweet stench of poon fills his nostrils.
'Amma get me summa dat' ponders Cuddles as he glides across the polished brownies, not noticing how particularly beautiful the sugar glazing looked in the moonlight.

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The square was a puddle of moonlight among the shops and homes,
And the old black cat came walking—
Walking—walking—
The old black cat came walking, over the cobblestones.

>>2355636

Enjoy my gift, Neo.

>>2355882


When does bess the landlord's daughter, the landlord's blue eyed daughter, plait a dark-red love-knot into that kittie's ass?

I'm drunk on plaster, and my sight isn't anything short of terrible with the parties under the street light. The light's dimmed, and it cracked like the plaster, where a young black tom struggles through the crack. He walks past the door where I asked that tom where he's goin'?
"huh?", he replied
I said again, "where are you goin'?"
"home, why do ya' ask?"
"it's dangerous out here ya' know; you'll soon die from some water dog, before ye get home" I told the tom.
"I know my way around here"
He knows naught, but I need not to reply, dumb tom. Hope some cat catcher gets to him, or some dog, fuck. Every tom's like that, indoor, outdoor, they're all the same. I don't even know anymore, I'm drunk on plaster, and in desperate need of replacement regarding my interior. I sure hope that tom knows his way around here, because I've never seen him around here before.

I'm not going to make a short story like a faggot, it's not what the thread is for.
But the image shows a black cat walking into a town. The people and the town in general look unusually far away from the cat and the cloud covered moon looks to be the same distance as the town itself

>>2355933
>the cloud covered moon looks to be the same distance as the town itself
This is one of the worst and frankly dumbest things I've ever read.

>>2355944
I didn't want to leave the moon out
Also, if it were to be written instead of said plainly I think it could be interesting

>>2355955
>>2355944
>>2355933
>>2355900
I won't say it

>>2355955
>the cloud covered moon looks to be the same distance as the town itself
Things that cover other things tend to be closer ya idiot. Pic related. I'd hate to see you trying to do paperwork or play cards.

>>2355978
Calm your tits down. Stop being so confrontational.

>>2355978
I'm not sure how to respond to this
First of all I wasn't saying anything looked closer (I was actually saying the opposite)
Second I was comparing the moon to the town, not the cloud

>>2355978
>thinks we are talking about the moon and the clouds and not an image of moon and clouds
>thinks emotion does not distort the physical world and bend its rules
>has no sense of history about the archetypical idea of a firmament

>>2355992
>thinks we are talking about the moon and the clouds and not an image of moon and clouds
In this case it doesn't matter.
>thinks emotion does not distort the physical world and bend its rules
In this case that's bullshit
>has no sense of history about the archetypical idea of a firmament
>archetypical
I don't know if you're agreeing with me here of if you're just doing madlibs.

Whatever ways, lazy and rather poor description.

A black cat with it's ears pricked and tale lifted high walks from the near right, diagonally across a large cobbled expanse. In the background there is a town with buildings of Germanic influenced architecture(>>2355125). The buildings of the town are lit up and most are 4 to 6 stories high. It is night time and a full moon illuminates a cloudy skyline.

Cobblestones, to me, are wonderful symbols. On their own, they are rocks. I couldn't count every stone I've come upon in my life. I have skipped across water as many as I have stepped on. If they serve as an obstacle between myself and my destination, they range between modest and impassable. On their own, they are the product of some chemistry I couldn't explain to anyone of curiosity. However, they are special when they collaborate. With what began as hearthstones and evolved into homes themselves, rocks have unlimited potential when they assemble. Walls to keep the outsiders out and the insiders in; a cruelly cute duality, depending on the perspective. Paths to keep us wondering what lies at the end; it must be important if someone took the time to piece together a route for it. Weapons to defend or offend, tools to feed the hungry and hollow the satiated. Every time I walk upon cobblestones, I am reminded that someone took the time to place them there. One link leads to the next until the end of the chain leaves me stepping on hundreds of faces. While some are familiar, most are strange. Perhaps this is the reason stoning was a common means of garbage disposal. Humans and rocks are akin to the point where we could even relate to our ability to fluctuate between warmth and cold.

critics?

A low angle shot of a black cat, in a walking motion, going towards some buildings in the distance which look to be of Germanic style in terms of architecture. The buildings are lit up with lights of various colors, and appear to be at least 100 feet from the cat.

The sky is cloudy, and the moon stylistically shines through these clouds and makes the ground bright. The ground is made of square brick or cobblestone.

The image looks warped a bit, so it the buildings look like the end of a large hallway.

And then ass.

It's dark and there's a cat.

>>2355847

It sucks a dog's cunt. Why should your piece of shite be commented on rather than the other 100 pieces before it?

Why not comment on

>>2355644
>>2355394
>>2355618
>>2355635
>>2355640
>>2355656
>>2355668
>>2355725
or

>>2355839

hmm? why not comment on any one of those fucking shitposts?


But, since you are so desperate for my (or anyone's) attention to your work, then I will restate that I think you couldn't write your way out of a wet paper bag.

Fuck off.

Pretty pat pat went the black pussy cat, trotting through the cobbles where the moon beams sat. Searching for a mouse, or perhaps real-estate, we'll never know its fate or if it found a proper house. Whatever, not like I give a shit, I'm describing a tiny picture on a hole called /lit/.

>>2355775
Which is why I want criticism. You schmuck.
>>2355785
Yeah I get that kind of stuff a lot. Thanks for the help.

Cat comes panting
In the dark
Near the park
And the park was dark
And the cat was dark
That night near the park

>>2355110
It's dark and I'm walking over to a friends place. We're going to meet up with a few friends later and go look at this dead dog one of them saw earlier. The cat nip is starting to kick in. I don't know why I ended up making this trip out to Europe in the first place.

Mr Mephistopheles goes out on the prowl for bitches in brussels.

A fucking cat is walking on the fucking brick road somewhere in shitty fucking Europe at fucking night. The moon looks especially beautiful this evening, particularly haunting. There's not a soul on the fucking street aside from the fucking cat, and of course the fuckass who's taking the picture. I can only assume the cat is homeless, and the photographer probably left it there to die. Unless, the cat belongs to the fucking photographer, in which case he/she is even more of a fucking faggot hipster for bringing their fucking cat to this fucking abandon shithole to take this stupid fucking picture for me to describe.

>>2356727
You must be relieved now that you can freely use profanity since your mother is not around.

SO I PROWL SO HARD MOONLIGHT WANNA SHIINNE ME
FIRST MOONLIGHT GOTTA FIND ME
WHAT 50 FELINES TO A MURFUKKA LYK ME
MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW ME?
PROWL SO HARD, THIS CAT GREY

A black cat prowled across the cobbled square, aiming at a rustic set of taverns. The warm glow they exuded resembled a haven in the dreary night.

>>2356873
>aiming
>set of

change these and it's good.

felidae? specifically felidae on the road?

>>2356881

>A black cat prowled across the cobbled square, towards a rustic tavern. The warm glow they exuded resembled a haven in the dreary night.

Towards doesn't really feel right either. I had some qualms about dreary. I don't write any more because I agonize over every sentence in this manner. Thanks though, you're right about what I needed to change.

>>2356890
Specifically a felid, since there's only one.

a brilliant moon, strangled
by dark clouds, casts
its glow upon the fluorescent
beacons of old Strasbourg
where a lonely feline slinks
across the cobblestone

>>2355110
The cat traced the jutted city jigsaw along his own paws, as careful as a prison escapee; the moon its lone sentry.

stalking innwards cross stones by night, a cat

>>2355640

The wind carry's bell-sound. wild chimings out of change and peal. And the cool air scents of coffee and the sharp-cold-sweet of orange peelings, bright scraps on the cobbles. The old cat pulls itself loose from the shadow of St. Mark's and saunters careful-like into the plaza. No mark it's foot leaves, no sound it betrays: a vagrant shade cut loose from the lime-tree darkness and wavering steadily toward the lights of the Heart and Scepter. Above the sagging joists of the old-town a cloud-hugged moon dot's the "i" of the early evening, But I am drunk already, on dry old sack and pale vermouth, and the blood-needle smear of grenadine tainted wormwood. The cat is my thought, going home to the gray places beneath the tables, where lights above the festal board make easier shadows than the alley night.

A black cat is walking at night, somewhere.

A deeply emotionful evening.

>>2357026

Who bent the back of this earth, and heaved you up here, Percival? And whence doth this fresh field and pastorum novum appear to vex the ancient shepherd my dear Eugenius?

Annie is bones in a box these last three Easters, and her directions never led me here. I could cast her like runestones over the flints of shoreditch road, but the dead don't know the future. There is no map for it. the street signs are equivocal, pointing two ways at once. These un-mercatored excesses will not stand, sir!

A damp smile and he gets my round. Tight hair slenched across eggshell brow like a comb from a whale's throat.
Something brought you here, some business out of the night. You are felix ultima, last luck and perfect pussy. Here to drag me off to hell or wherever place of durance cats abhor. Perhaps a cold back-parlor with the dryrot smell of old lavender coughing out of the needlework divans.
Vespers rung already? I marked the clock but did not count it. Poor gnomon I. Send not to ask, for the call comes soon enough.
Old percy has a gun, and can use it, by god, if the whim takes him and the thought carrries. No puffed up claw-shod mouse-worrier will psychopomp his numbles off to Satanus, though his lights have gone mostly already there, in the fragrant escort of the Camel short.

>Slightly drug-induced, sorry about coherentsy.

I am the ghetto cat, and I grew up without flabs of fat, for I am the ghetto cat, get your head around that because I am the ghetto cat.

YEAAAAH he's the ghetto cat, he's getto cat, he's gheeto cat

and HEEEEEEee grew up without fat, without fat

GHEETO CAT
where is your mat
GHEETO CAT
are you out to look for rat?
GHEETO CAT
GHEETO CAT
GHEETO CAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


In moonlight spite and city light, he prowls the night, in search of prey and salvage in the little moutianside village. Little is knowen about his existance and little about the place, only that gheeto cat is on the chase.

Black night, black town, black pussy is on the prowl

>>2357056
>>2357026
I guess this is good, It's certainly vivid. this the same guy from the bible quoting ones last night?

I marked you eye that pigeon on the flags sir. The bird is defunct, sir: Leave it. It was beneath you, even before the steelshod wainrads clenched it's guts out through it's splayed phiz. Let me stake you a kipper. The moon drags up rain from the fields and like as not will pester us home with thunderbolt and righteousness. you'll not like that. The last one drew a tract across my lintel in the form of a branch of sodden may. There's your omen, if you like. I'll die drunk, and be dead drunk before, just to get the feel of it.
Berne, it has come to me, is the place with the cherry biscuit laden paddle-wheelers stamped from thin pot metal and whored up in that exact Germanic way to gaud the tourists. Can i get a kirchewasser here? I have forgotten. All gauds and guiles anyway. vodka is the diamond in the glass, mourning from the nebule like tears of wine.

>>2357075


I doubt this is original. this kind of rambling verbal masturbation usually takes some research. He's probably cut and pasting. still it's pretty apt, and it has a sort of style. I'd like to know the source.

>>2355259
>>2355268
>>2355317
>>2355397
>>2355618
>>2355747
>>2357026
>>2357056
>>2357084
samefag?

>>2357090


It's probably original. The shit screams "first draft" to me. But if i put a picture like this up and asked a class tow write about it, I'd give this guy a "C" at least. I like it better than all but one of the other attempts. It's still jerking off, though.

the cat was a bachelor; a black-haired, elf-skinned, roguish ratsbane, and a local protector of note, who had often broken lance with such villanious thugs as Ludwig und Johann. he lived with one man-servant in a georgian homestead with knocker and iron-railed steps, balanced eerily on the steep ascent of north court street beside the ancient brick court and colony house where his grandfather—a cousin of that celebrated privateersman, captain whipple, who burnt his majesty's armed schooner gaspee in 1772—had voted in the legislature on May 4, 1776, for the independence of the rhode island colony. Around him in the damp, low-ceiled library with the musty white panelling, heavy carved overmantel and small-paned, vine-shaded windows, were the relics and records of his ancient family, among which were many dubious allusions to the shunned house in benefit street. that pest spot lies not far distant—for benefit runs ledgewise just above the court house along the precipitous hill up which the first settlement climbed.

>>2357102
>It's still jerking off, though.
That's what literary writing is

>>2357119


excellent effort! Purple prose for everyone!

>>2357102
if you put a picture up like this you invite texts that "jerk off" because thats exactly what the guy did who took this picture and touched it up with photoshop.

stop being a douchebag.

>>2357119

lovecraft, is it not?

>>2357128

>>2357119
this is excellent. sounds like a wordier Walter Scott

>>2355259
>>2355268


i like this better though. Clumsier but feels kind of like James Joyce and Dylan Thomas interpreted by a college kid who was weaned on Neil Gaiman comics. Good fun.

>>2357199
I analyzed it through I Write Like and he indeed got HPL.

>>2357209
Fuck off

>>2355618

I used I Write Like for the stuff i wrote on this thread and got six different authors
>>2355259
>>2355268
>>2355317
>>2355397
>>2355618
>>2355747
>>2355855
>>2357026
>>2357056
>>2357084

Margaret Mitchell to Neil Gaiman.

I don't put hella faith in the thing, just sayin"

>>2355655
why can't I get any responses?

>>2355655
here you go brother sir!

black fag walking in into a city

Kitty in a city.

>>2355110
lil paved floor smexy lil puss dark lil sky pretty lil twinkle lights meow

>>2355110
The wee cat prowled belgium looking for minge and drink but only found peadophiles and chocolate.

>>2357493
ugh not ironic enuf.

>>2356828
>>2356828
>>2356828
You have no freaking idea.
She's back.

There once was a jolly little feline
of sable black and slender outline
who headway to the market yard fled
for delicious fowl or herring head.

But as he came he found it all in rest
with only a gleaming moon in a fragile scene
in which no marketplace shuffle could be seen.

With no person in sight or sound around, the once dependent and wild beast of the city roamed the empty streets and buildings; mans domain sans man becomes just evidence of somethings existence yet empty. The beautiful creations, the terrible creations, and all in between will eventually disappear with no one to write a proper requiem; doesn't matter anymore anyway, I guess we can just move on.

The cat looked to the town, the lights inviting and warm. Almost home.

"Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face"

>>2359462

Okay I fucking lol'd

>>2359462
That was a badass character.

>>2359462

Well done.

"Come back kitty. It's a jungle out there."

followed by http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhKlBH2_dVY

There was a black cat in the city square. The city looked like Prague. It was night time.

>>2359542
This one is good.

>>2355110
The gaps between the cobbles in the street were irregular; something that caused me great discomfort.

>>2357084

Van Dyke Parks, is that you?

Lyubov asked for a cigar, and so of course we all had to have one, shrugging into flight jackets and burberrys and second-hand london fog and shouldering out to the deserted plaza past a smiling woman who might have spit in the eye of the frail man in the center of us if her long-dead grandmother could have whispered his name in her ear.
Outside beneath the trestle eve of the Wayfarer, we drew and cut and lit and blew dull vapors towards the ridgepoles where the moon glowed like the eye of a cubano wreathed in rings of cloud-smoke. As though god were joining us.
Or the devil.
A lean black cat, disturbed by our numbers or the unquiet of our rustlings, angled across the cobbles in the direction of the Mill-house. A lone drunk was humming the overture from Die Fliegende Hollander and rambling up and down in that unsteady hands-in-pants-pockets way that they have here.
Perhaps the cat sensed something ill about the chuckling blue-eyed wraith we escorted. If so he was wiser than most men. Or perhaps he was one of our comrades in the field,one of Hell's alleymen, off to tell his infernal handler that Constantin Lyubov was still above ground, and that he could sleep easy in his bed of brimstone.
"Ghosts." said Lyubov. "Are such sad things."
And then it was a story.

>>2355110

Hitler's ghost has returned to his beloved Bavaria. For past crimes, he has been punished by his reincarnation as a cat. Likewise, Himmler has reincarnated as a dog, Goering came back as a gerbil, Goebbels is a rabbit now.

"Wo gibt es den den lebensraum?" thinks Hitler, for the transformation to cat is still underway. Even the cat in him can relate to this human thought, though. It resonates. A cat needs room. And the room must expand.

Hitler now feels something new. The urge to urinate, but with a sense of pride. The part of him still man is aroused, excited, by this new sensation, this new layer of feeling.

So he runs up to the nearest townhouse, and pees against the wall. How to describe what he feels next? The excitement is now released, there is a sense of completion, that Hitler vaguely recognizes from the puberty of his former life. Fulfillment of a previously unknown desire. It is direct, immediate; This is HIS now. There is no need for talk. Hitler now owns this building.

"Wass erwartet mir"? thinks the slowly shrinking part of his mind still human. What more is there to learn?
Another strange new sensation, he's wiggling his tail now. And he can have nails extend from his paws, if he wants.

He jumps forward. This is fucking freedom! This is what it means to be alive! Truly alive, truly be a god-spirit. Everything has purpose. Such sense of direction. Never before did Hitler so clearly feel his life has Meaning.

But there is still much to learn. Hitler is only just beginning to be a cat. He must be patient. And this new life will not be without setbacks. He must stop thinking like a human, and embrace being a cat. No holding back.
He has to fully leap, with all his might, into a new life. And abandon his old.

He's a fucking cat now. So forget what it was like to talk. Forget what it was like to think. Fucking Act, be in the moment, desire without shame. Eat, kill, sleep, hunt.

For this is his existence now.

"What pace to walk?" me though in harrow'd pause
'Neath tattered night and cobbled floor I prowl
For feasts of vermin and refuse scattered,
My cadence hastened by occulted light
Pursued relentless by a darkly tail.

>>2359690
Me thought

I was a square in the old town. It was cobbled and empty, most of the lights in the buildings were on. The moon was half shrouded in clouds.

"Look, it looks like a Tudor house," said my son. A black cat stalked past us.

that's technically description.

Squaring the square some square squared the hep cat jiving across the downtown cobbling squares.
"Meow man, you just some square. I'm outta here with my witch black hair."
"Holy cats" said the square "A talking cat"
"Get that rhyme outta here, ya hear. No square should be jivin my flow on this here night. I put the hoodoo into voodoo with my lyrical quality."
And with that the hep cat blended into the shadows. Hallow's eve. The sound of a double bass. The square knew not what he'd got. Yeah.

>>2359772
>"Look, it looks like a Tudor house," said my son.

A black cat prowls in the streets, between buildings like an insect between blades of grass.

The cat prowled prowlingly through he citiest of cities, on the nighty-night nightest of nighty-nights,while the moony-moon leered leeringly out of the cloudy-cloud clouds...

>>2359930
shouldn't that be: "the kitty-cat prowled prowlingly...?

>>2359930

hahahaha

And so they threw me, into the great OUT. Into the pud-piddle puddles of the alley-back, in to the out of doors, the out of walls the out of money and the dry-heaving sea of cobblestones, beaching me at the front of Moriarty's, bleached bones upon the strand Oh, Lord. with the blank and welcomeless misery of Sunday sundown and the rusty spike of a hangover. I slept there I knew not how long. under the spill of an awning sheet, out of the sun till the sun went out without me. A black cat stepped on my ass and woke me up, spewing and shocked as the ebb of oblivion usually finds me. cautiously fingering through identities and chronologies and the necrology of bottles and cups.
The cat walked on, as ghost to me as i was to it. an alley is for cats and bums, but thet twain don't bother meeting most of the time. The Winslow Arms across the broad shapelessness of Matthew the Martyr square seemed to be his destination. The moon jerked drunkenly out of the clouds above the roof lines, but most of that was me. There would be a clerk in the Arms that would let me drowse and kick through a few hours of delirium tremendous purgatory on the lobby couch if i waited till third shift, and what other plan did I have?
The cat was halfway across the square before i noticed the lack of people. the lack of noise. of wind, of anything remotely world-y and normalish in the early night.
Something was wronger than usual.
Then the first of the dead men jerk-stepped around the corner and saw me.

>>2360469
Why do you keep doing this? Have you made this thread your home?

It was four in the morning. The moon shone down on the town, giving off a static glow like a museum exhibition. I padded across the cobblestone square in no hurry.

>"the pud-piddle puddles of the alley-back"

You sir, have a way with words.

the cat walked over the cobblestone plaza toward the hotel. the moon was shining through the clouds.

The kebab washed over the stone-baked corn pizza with extra sauce. The beer came up through my mouth.

slowly that cat's breathing slowed. the big buildings loomed largely. The cat was actually my cat from many years ago. My grandfather may have worked on these very cobblestones I step over on my way back to the townhouse.

... And it is told that he made his way through their streets at night, crawling through their many windows and crouching in their gardens, moving through the sewers beneath their cobbled roads and slipping over their railings.

Watched by their cats and the roosting pidgeons of their city, yet wary of their slumbering dogs, he went. They would not see him, nor wake as he drew near, but would only shudder, softly calling out the names of their gods in sleep.

Restless, they tossed as he passed under the window like an errant lover fleeing dawn.

And by morning light he was gone, away from that place, and moved on to another world.

>From Deus Ex.

Reminds me of Bruges.

And Bruges sucks dick.

Something brushed past me in my sleep, waking me. I noticed first that a cat was at eye-level, then that the city was in a skewed perspective which made me I realized that my face was stuck to a cobbled street.

A black cat walked across the cobblestone town square in an old European city at night.

233 fucking posts? describing a picture of a cat?

Okay.

Which ones are the good ones? I assume some are. Pick them.

Night time, a cat walked across the old, foreign plaza, tail held in the air. Under its feet were almost glossy cobblestones, which reflected the moon's light with astonishing brightness. The sky was blackish blue. The old buildings were interspersed with newer storefronts, and they all had modern electric lights. Everyone was indoors.

Prison.

>>2361210
Guys, can you rate this and tell me if I did good?

(part 1/2)
I sighed. I had come to the end of my denial, the end of my anger.
I realized that I could forgive them for a lot. I could forgive them for kidnapping me from Earth. I could forgive them for extracting my consciousness and analyzing it in excruciating detail, along with the consciousnesses of dozens of Earthlings.
I could forgive them for judging humans to be beneath saving; after all, how many times in the past had I thought that myself? I could forgive them for deciding to wipe out all life on Earth in order to remake it into something that suited them better. I could even forgive them for mistakenly putting my consciousness back not into my own body, or the body of any other human, but into the body of a cat.
But the one thing I could not forgive them for was turning me into the homing-beacon for their apocalyptic missile. Even though no one knew or would ever know that it was me, it still rankled that they would make me a part of their scheme.

>>2361224
Part 2/2
I sat up and looked across the square. At least they had kept track closely enough to put me back in my home town.
It was a peaceful night. The moon was shining through the clouds. From across the square, I heard the familiar strains of an air played on a violin. Herr Schultz! My old violin teacher. Could it be he?
I pricked up my ears to locate the source of the violin. Yes, absolutely, it was coming from Herr Schultz's musty old studio on the second floor of the cheese shop building. It was a Bach piece, one of the ones that he had tormented me with for so long when I was a child. What an evil, cruel man! What a shame that I or one of his other miserable students had not murdered him long ago!
Oh, well. No time for anger anymore. In two minutes, the missile would land and all this would be gone -- all torment, all cats, all violins. Only the moon would remain to watch the Earth be destroyed, and slowly remade.
I stretched and stood. Calmly, deliberately, I walked across the square, toward the cheese shop building. It might as well be there, I thought; it might as well be there.

>>2361223


it's not bad, but read some of your competition. you're up against some hog'sbreath bullshooters here. I need not mention "Gheeto cat"....

>>2361237
It's strange. While I'm mostly sure that /lit/ is the most intellectual board on 4chan, I still sense that nobody here is thinking clearly. As on the other boards, the people here don't really understand what they're talking about. They have good taste, and like good books (just as /v/ likes good games, and /tv/ can recommend some great movies), but for all of the extravagant language /lit/izens use to make themselves feel bright, most of them couldn't properly explain, for example, why or why they didn't like a popular book. They'll have all sorts of insults and things to say, and examples of what they like in a book, but when it comes down to it, they don't know what makes a book tick.

I think it's the same for their writing as we can see here. They all jump at the opportunity to write a single paragraph about this inconsequential image, because most of all in their writing hobby, what they enjoy is to make something out of nothing. What can be said about such an image can be said briefly, but concision isn't as attractive to /lit/ as the idea that they could be just as good as Joyce or Proust.

The longer I spend away from writing, the better I feel I become at it. The more movies I watch, the more I sympathize with men like Steinbeck, who wished to boil their thoughts down into gorgeous brief pinpoints of detail. I can only hope that I attain such a skill one day. /lit/ is just making me depressed.

bump, plsrspnd

>>2361544
tl;dr

>>2361544
Literature would be pretty boring if everyone wrote like Steinbeck or fapped to Hemingway's idea of economy of words. It's nice if your story is interesting in itself, but if it's not, then interesting prose can be a redeeming factor.

>>2361999

Not a bad point. And there are plenty of examples of concision and descriptive economy in this thread. And it would be a pretty boring one if that were all there was.
People like to flex their rhetorical i,imaginations a little. It's fun to ask yourself : "What if Tom Waits and William Burroughs collaborated to write a description of a drunk watching a cat walk across a square?"

The silver glow from the moon overhead was partially obscured by the dense clouds that filled the nights air.

The light had travelled to far however to be stopped in its tracks by the dense puffs of cloud.

Despite the clouds best intentions, it had found a way to break through. And was happily down on the town below. Lighting up the darkness and spilling onto the cobblestone streets.

>>2355125
>Germanic
Germanic!=German
Nobody except the English calls Deutschland "Germany", it's Allemagne, Saksia, Tyskland etc.
My guess is that this "German" word came from delusional brits thinking they are Romans when they are themselves Germanic Saxons.

No one has noticed the image to be enigmatic or highlighted the mischievous cat?
Strange, I'd write a quick paragraph if my mind wasn't so scattered from this screenplay

>>2362302
German was originally a Celtic name. We do have a history of both Celtic and Germanic tribes here.

>>2362304

. Oh, I say, we are grand, aren't we? 'Oh, oh, no more buttered scones for me, mater. I'm off to play the grand piano'. 'Pardon me while I work on my screenplay!.' Now get on the table!

>>2362304
I'm interested in reading your quick paragraph.

>>2362350
Quite

>A black cat joylessly wanders around the brightest of cities, looking for his next prey.

A cat walks down a cobbled street.

我輩は猫である。名前はまだない。
月光に浴びられたり、無人の繁華街を渡れたりながら、ニャーニャーを唄っ
た。

Everybody's got a fetish, and mine happens to be an old European plaza whose irregularly outlined cobbles are lit by a partially obfuscated full moon. When I saw a black cat slink across the plaza with its tail raised with a bent tip--rather like a periscope--I came.

>this image is really interesting to me and I don't know why. Something to with the lights, cat, and night being juxtaposed I think, combined with the perspective.

拙者は侍猫である。名前は良にゃん。
刀光に浴びられたり、無犬の村を渡れたりながら、無礼無礼を叫んだ。

The hologram was very vivid before her eyes, the colors were lifelike, even photoshoped like - brightness and darkness, all there as if she was between the old buildings, following silently the pitch black cat running across the paved marketplace. She had to shake her head - "this is not real!" she kept repeating, trying hard to keep her sanity intact, "this is just cyberspace".

THE BLACK CAT
OF ILL OMEN

It was a small image; less than two hundred and fifty thousand pixels. It apperead on an image board more known for harrassment and dick pictures 6than serious literary discussion. Next to it was a challenge, and a promise. The challenge: describe this image. the promise: this will only take a few minutes.
Three days and three two hundred and fifty posts later, we're still trying.
The subject of the image isn't important.

As the witching hour rolled over the square, a black cat prowled across the cobblestones toward the hotel. Like a spilt pot of ink, the silent padding was betrayed only by the glimmers of refracted light on its jet silk fur.

A black cat stalked towards the center of town. It was dark; the moon was hidden behind thin, foggy clouds. The street lamps glowed in the damp air.
"Hey," one building said to another, "this looks like a generic Halloween image."
"Yeah," the second building agreed. "I mean, cobblestones? Ominous-looking old buildings? Shit's cray."
"Shit sucks."

>>2365441
I laughed harder than necessary.

Stones protest silently against the weight of the cat. The moon stares lazily.

Jesus, it's late. Which building was she staying in? These all look the same.

Whatever, it can wait until tomorrow.

A cat walks on a cobblestone street. It is nighttime. Ambient light hinds the stars and clouds hover about the sky. The buildings look pretty faggy.

op is a fag
low resolution image
cannot describe blurs

That's not the moon; that's a giant spotlight, shining down on the cat, painting the creature's sins clear as day on the city streets.

Computer poop!

So it's this fuckin' cat, right? on this fucking street, see. and it's going somewhere, I don't know, home, maybe, if it has one. I hope it does; looks like it's had a bad day.

ARRRRUFFF ARRUFFF ARRRRRRRHHHH ARRRRRHH RUFF ARRRRRRRRUFF RUFFFF RARRRRRHHHRRARRRR

>>2368928

BARK BARK BARK grrrrrrRRRRRRRR ROWROWROWOW ROWROWROW GRRRrrrRRRRGRRRRRRRRRRR ROWROWROW

Black sack kitty-cat loping pitty pat over the cold stones, moon-watched and slack gutted, dragging his shadow like a burglar's bag..