FoldingStory is a group storytelling game.
Enter the fold.
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His squamous skin was due to inbreeding. He'd point at me yelling "qu'est que c'est que ça?" He shot himself when figuratively became an accepted meaning of literally. But Grandpa -
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the game was over, we put our balls away and exchanged false phone numbers. That was the last I saw of my hermaphrodite lover, until seven years later, in Paris. S/he was at a cafe -
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("Damn! That's some good writing there!" I said to myself.) The cries of the lost children blended with the wind, lost on the ears of the swamp-forest hunters, who searched in vain -
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diva, plus he hadn't caught on to how many calories a large movie popcorn with extra butter really packs in. Rambo couldn't understand how he did 12,000 crunches a day but still ha -
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worn by generations of wandering folk. He picked up the rose, and its withered golden petals flew and scintillated on the dusk's wind, like the souls of all his roaming ancestors.