Plotist Community Collaboration Bonanza: Event One6 min read

by | Apr 16, 2018 | Plotist, Writing | 0 comments

At Plotist, we’re massive fans of collaboration, which is why we offer free collaboration regardless of whether you’re on a paid or free plan. Recently we hosted a short collaborative writing event where anyone in our community could participate. The result was comical and showed just how different writing voices can fuse into a magical opening story.

We humbly present our community creation below. Be sure to scroll down to the bottom to see the authors who joined in, learn who created the incredible picture to go with the story, and be sure to check out there work here at Plotist and across the web! We hope to see them, and you, join us for our next event!

PS: You can also check this out on Plotist itself!

Cooking is Hard by members of the Plotist Community

As the flash of light faded, I found myself staring at a glowing neon blue portal. How did I conjure this? Double checking the book in front of me, I ran through the ingredients making sure I had followed all the steps for my grandfather’s cookie recipe correctly.

“Did you mix up vanilla extract and enigma extract again?” Myles tossed his bookbag into the portal. “Much better than using Sir Barksalot as an excuse.”

I breathe in deeply and release it slowly through my nose. Some said it was the job of younger brothers to be annoying, but I wasn’t in the mood for this patronization. “No, I didn’t.” I hold up the vanilla extract as evidence and shake the contents around.

Putting down the extract, I turned to my younger brother. “Did you just throw your homework into the portal?”

“Yeup,” Myles replied through muffin crumbs as he consumed yesterday’s cooking attempt.

“Why?” I demanded. “Now Grandfather’s going to need to find the Extractium to bring us back home.” And Extractium was by no means easy to come by, let alone purchase. We were going to be here awhile.

Tremors set our world a-quiver, vibrations amplifying by the second, but before we could manage more than a simultaneous incomprehensible groan of worry, the hungry hole in reality pulled the mixing bowl into its azure maw.

“Bugger! That was Grandpa Joe’s best mixing bowl!” Narrowing my eyes at the portal, I couldn’t help but noticed that it was now the size of a door.

Even while telling myself how dumb it would be to open it, my hand reached for the place where I doorknob should be. The portal, being ever so accommodating, morphed a bubble of swirling blue electricity into a wooden knob.

Time seized, all motion halted, and with it so too did our breath. One last brief glance into each other’s eyes, and then the door gave way, crackling blue ice opened a tunnel like the throat of some great dragon plunging into a frozen hell.

The air is sucked out of our lungs, and Myles and I are dragged into the portal a second later. Well, I think grumpily, at least we’ll be able to get Grandpa’s mixing bowl.

Time drags on for seemingly hours before the portal finally spits us out and we can breathe in fresh air.

Well, if you could call air permeated with the smell of gingerbread fresh that is. This is not the first time I’ve been here, having been shown around by Grandpa Joe. However, this was Myles’ first visit.

The cluttered sprawl of chaos around us would’ve been a fine mirror of the world we left behind, except for the chitinous skittering writhing behind the pantry door to our right. Hinges strained and wood wailed as old claws tore fresh etchings in the wild yet restrained rampage out of sight, but by no means out of mind. No amount of gingerbread would fool Spot, because with our intrusion, meat was back on the menu.

If you believed Grandpa Joe, Spot was something he created when he was Myles’ age.

I grabbed my brother’s arm, “Let’s be quick. I have no idea how long this portal will stay open, and Mom will be pissed if Spot finds your book bag, or us, before we do.”

Myles sighs, waving a hand. “I know, I know.” He scans the room. “There’s the bowl.” He frowned. “Whaddo you think’s in it?”

“I’m not sure we have time to find out,” I glanced nervously at the pantry door. “Can you see your back pack anywhere?” I swept my gaze across the gingerbread kitchen looking for the missing item, my eyes being drawn back to the scratching of Spot at the pantry door.

A distant creek followed by the plodding thud of footsteps heralded another guest of the mirror-world with a sweet tooth. An older man’s voice grumbled to the scratching at the door before he’d even reached the threshold joining the kitchen to the living room of Grandpa Joe’s sanctuary, “Down boy.” The big bad wolf now looming in the doorway with graying throughout his shaggy beard gave us a toothy grin, “Well if it isn’t my favorite two miscreants!”

With a squeal of delight, I ran to the old man and jumped into his waiting arms. “Uncle Bob, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Europe.”

Community Participants:

typical_demigod: Plotist
Toasha Jiordano: Plotist | Website | Twitter | Facebook | Tumblr | Instagram
Steven Bentsen (Occi): Plotist | Website | Twitter | Facebook
Rose: Links coming
Josey Howarth:
 Plotist | Twitter

Painting Image Design:

Leogrim: DeviantArt | Facebook | Tumblr | Twitter

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