Nazy Kaviani
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Invitation to collaborative writing
08-Jan-2011
I would like to invite those of you who are interested to participate in another collaborative writing project. Those of you who generously participated in the previous projects know that we are experimenting with different ways of doing this, so that the rules become more clear and people's creativity is not repressed. Responding to requests from our last project, this time our story-writing will be in English. Thanks to Divaneh and Multiple Personality Disorder for their suggestions, the rules are as follow:
1. I begin the story with 280 words, and the ending part will also be 280 words. Each person is allowed to add no more and no less than 140 words in their contribution. If you are mid-sentence when you run out of 140 words, please stop mid-sentence and the next person will pick up where you left off.
2. The story should not be more than approximately 4,000 words in total, so at around 3,000 words, I will remind all to start leading the story towards an ending.
3. Please read the earlier contributions carefully and remember the details already introduced. Please do not contradict earlier facts.
4. Drastic and unreasonable changes of storyline are not allowed. Contributions that create disruptions to the storyline will be disallowed. If there are two immediate objections to an entry, the entry will be ignored.
5. Whilst good humor could enrich the story, making a joke of the whole story should be avoided.
Here's the opening part of the story:
Sanam thought she could not walk one more step. The snow had picked up a vicious pace, and the crazy wind which kept shifting directions was now spraying huge snowflakes from every which direction all over her face and body. Her boots were soaking wet; her hands were frozen around the handles of her suitcase and duffel bag; and her vision was blurred by a combination of the blizzard, fatigue, and hopelessness.
She heard the muffled sound of an approaching car before turning around to see its dim lights coming towards her. She turned around and gathered all her might to drop her suitcase and duffel bag to the ground, making a big hand signal for the car to stop. She screamed, “STOP, PLEASE!” The car stopped. Through the windshield, she saw the driver signal “come on” to her. On any other day, Sanam would have felt apprehension at the thought of getting into a stranger’s car. Today, she did not waste any time. She opened the back door, dropped her suitcase and duffel bag on the back seat, closed the door, and jumped in the passenger seat, slamming the door. The warmth inside the car immediately started its comforting magic on Sanam. She looked at the driver, a handsome man about 40, who seemed perplexed, but wasn't saying anything. Sanam asked: “Could you take me to the next town?” It took only seconds for her words to register with the man, who said in a familiar and excited way “khanoom, shoma irooni hasteed?” (Ma’am, are you Iranian?) Sanam could barely control the muscles in her face to muster a smile or utter any words. She passed out trying.
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Word Count: 980
by Nazy Kaviani on Sun Jan 02, 2011 04:38 PM PSTDear Friends:
Thanks so much for participating in this writing project. Just so you know, we are at 980 words now. That's about 25% of the whole story. I hope more people join us and that the experience is as enjoyable to you as it is to me.
"Oh, I'm Sorry. I am Behrang."
by Nazy Kaviani on Sun Jan 02, 2011 04:52 PM PSTSanam said: “Agha Behrang, I don’t know you, but I am convinced you are my guardian angel, because you saved me from the blizzard and gave me a chance to catch my breath. I’ll answer your questions. I can understand if you do not wish to get involved in this.”
Behrang suddenly felt more relaxed. "So, she doesn’t have amnesia, and she isn't going to play word games with me. If I could only know her story, I could make a quick decision to dump her as soon as possible, or to help her if I can," thought Behrang.
Sanam continued: “I am really scared. I am running away from my husband. My car died somewhere on the road, and I was so afraid he would catch up with me, I took off on foot. I need to get away from him.”
It was as if he wanted...
by Multiple Personality Disorder on Sun Jan 02, 2011 03:39 PM PST,... with one quick look, to find out about the deep sorrow that lied in her eyes, and figure out the reason for her evasion. For a few moments silence filled the air. A heavy silence, a sad silence, not the kind that would cause ecstasy and excitement in hearts of two newly met. It was as if not even the heat inside the car could be felt. How silence is so cold sometimes!
Suddenly, the man collected himself. He felt, with his curious look, he was ruining everything.
“ What business of mine is it where she has come from, where her car is; or, in whose car she was?” He thought to himself. He tried to regain his composure. He made a quick decision, and while he managed a mild smile on his lips, he said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I am Behrang.”
Forget Me, My Love who......
by Souri on Sun Jan 02, 2011 04:07 PM PSTHearing those words, Sanam’s eyes took the color of sadness. Shadow of a heavy sorrow was palpable on her face. She turned away her head.
Only one word, one simple word, "car" could evoke so many different thoughts. What are ‘words’, anyway? It seems as though the words are all pregnant, as long as they haven’t been uttered no one knows what they would produce. Joy? Sadness? Fortuity? Hatred? Or, God knows, what other things.
Car! Sanam didn’t want to remember what had happened, why she was here now. But, but, it wasn’t possible. She eventually had to answer the man. She tried to change the subject:
- I owe you a ‘thank you’. By the way, what did you say your name was?
The man turned his face towards Sanam. His glance was heavy. It was as if he wanted,…
She passed out try…
by Multiple Personality Disorder on Sat Jan 01, 2011 10:30 PM PST.
.
Several minutes passed before she came around again. At first, she was incognizant to all things around her, but suddenly she collected herself, as if something awful was about to happen to her. “Where am I?” She asked apprehensively.
“negeran nebashid. I’ll take care of you.” The man replied.
The blizzard had not eased up a bit. Snow had been collecting on the road for the last couple of hours, yet at the last mountain road checkpoint he had not seen anyone warning drivers of the approaching weather.
“I am Iranian also.” He said.
“How did you find me?” Sanam asked, still in a daze.
- I have no idea. You appeared out of nowhere. I almost ran into you, with the road being slippery and all. Did your car break down?
- What car?
- I assume you have…