FoldingStory is a group storytelling game.
Enter the fold.
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10
("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 -
13
just settled our brains for a long winter's nap. When down in the cellar there arose such a shriek, I sprang from my coffin to snatch a quick peek! Away to the stairwell, I flew -
10
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 -
11
that the society help out by recycling all used bottles and printing on both sides of the paper. But the society didn't listen, and life on Earth ended in the year 2047. -
13
As I set up ant traps around the kitchen, Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind" was playing on the radio. It was then that I misheard the lyrics as "the ants are my friends..."