Yes please! I'd like a storying, or a poem if you want to write one (I doubt it's that bad.)

Name: Azalea

Gender: female, she/her

Appearance: crazy curly brown hair a bit past shoulder-length, brown eyes, glasses, tan skin. Casual but hopefully cute clothes, colorful.

Personality: Usually quiet and shy, but I can get very bubbly and excited when talking about something I’m passionate about, pretty smart but not very clever, if that makes sense. Artistic, kind, overthinker, and a bit awkward. I’m kind of an old soul.

You can choose History and Setting. Thanks! 

I'd like to "purchase" a storying! (Nice how you made the price free XD)

Name: Summer

Gender: Female

Appearance: Short brown hair with teal streaks, green eyes, bright blue t-shirt and jeans. To be concise.

Personality: A total nerd, but I’m also cheerful and love laughing. Kind of quiet sometimes.

Other: I don't know if I have any control over this, but if possible, do you think you could make the genre fantasy? Thanks! 

You asked us to make you think... so I'm requesting a written picturing of what you think my room looks like. Alternatively, a written picturing of what you think my fantasy room would look like. Or if my mind were a fantasy world, what would it look like? Whichever is most fun for you is fine!

Name: Kitten

Age: 14

Gender: Female, she/her

Appearance: Brown eyes. Cat ears and tail that color-change from yellow to orange. Long brown wavy hair with a streak of blue. Cat-eye glasses. Average height, weight, etc. Often wears patterned t-shirts and yoga pants.

Personality: I love public speaking, and I can be really confident. I'm also very sensitive and get angry and upset easily. I'm a perfectionist, and when anyone does something off-task, unproductive, or just not meeting my standards, I am liable to rant at them, out loud or just in my head. I love reading, writing, dancing, listening to musical theater music, and pondering philosophical questions like the meaning of life. My Myers-Briggs type is INFJ, in case that's useful.

You are wandering slowly through the snow. It’s very cold, even through your warm, red jacket, but the cold isn’t unbearable, and the snow itself is really quite lovely, all white and clean, marred only by your own footprints. You never particularly liked the cold weather, but now you can understand what other people see in it. The crystalline flecks fall from the sky and land on your nose, your hair, your eyelashes. You can’t help but think about how often you see girls with snowflakes in their eyelashes on TV, and how stereotypically pretty they always look.

You, however, have hat hair, although you don’t have a hat. It blew off a little while ago, and now your dark, wild hair looks like someone attacked it with a vacuum cleaner or a balloon. Your nose is red, and your glasses are smeared with melted snow. Your hands are chapped from the cold, and there are still remnants of black and blue ink from when you were doodling on them. Why not admit it? You’re a mess.

But at least you’re happy. Those girls on TV, with their straight blonde hair and snowflakes in their lashes, were often crying. Somehow, their noses still weren’t red, and they were as pretty as ever, but they were sad. And, despite the fact that you look as though you were attacked by a bulldozer, you are happy. Although it would be nice if you could get out of the cold for just a moment. . .

There! For a moment, you see it, the thing you are looking for. Now, it is once more obscured by the snow, but you know it is there. Soon, you will have arrived at your destination.

Ugh. You sound like a GPS. All the technology in the world in rubbing off on you. It won’t be long before humans turn into robots, and you’ll be with them when it happens. But for now, you’re still a human. And it would be nice to savor the time you have.

You see it again, closer now. There are only a few more feet, and you will have arrived.

And then, you’re there. The greenhouse. You open the glass door, and sigh as a rush of heat escapes. The greenhouse is the pride of your life, overflowing with pink and purple and sunset oranges blossoms. Azaleas. The flowers wave a little in the breeze from the open door, almost as if they are greeting you, welcoming you home.

You love it here. The warmth hugs you like your own mother, and the flowers are your children. Everything about it is perfect. Beautiful.

Beautiful. 

***

Your bill:

Name: Azalea

Purchase: Storying

Cost: FREE!

Savings: 50%

Thank you for your purchase, and I hope you enjoy! 

You blink, and blink again. Where are you? Just a moment ago, you were dying of boredom, walking your neighbor’s dogs across the city park. And now you’re here. Wherever here is. You’re standing in the middle of a field of tall, silver grassy stuff, stretching as far as the eye can see. The only other feature of this place is the oddly colorless sky. No, it’s not quite colorless, but it is no color you have ever seen before; brighter than white, deeper and dark than the most velvety shade of black.

And then, of course, there’s the tall man standing in front of you. But surely he’s not important, although the way he’s staring at you is rather unnerving. Perhaps he could tell you a bit more about this place.

“Where am I?” you ask.

“Why Summer,” he says with an oddly featureless voice, “don’t you recognize this land? This is Nowhere At All.”

“Nowhere At All?” you repeat, confused. You recognize the name, of course. It’s your signature. Summer, age tau, Nowhere at all. But it’s not a real place.

Except that it is. Odd.

A mist swirls around you. It isn’t cold, but you shiver anyway, out of instinct. A golden kestrel flies by, and a feather falls to your feet. It is beautiful, made of the purest gold, but when you bend down to pick it up, it dissolves into nothingness, as if it had never even existed. Something nags at the edge of your consciousness. A memory. There was another feather, another field. Or the same one?

And then, you remember. Yes. You’ve been here before. Many, many times. Every time you submit a comment in the CB. Every time you sign your name. Summer, age tau, Nowhere at all. But now? You didn’t submit anything. You look up at the man, confused. As if he had anticipated your question, his mouth is already open.

“You were called here, Lady Summer, because I have a message for you. A warning.”

You wait, but it is a moment before he continues.

“Stay strong.”

Before you can protest that you are extremely strong, thank you very much, or ask what in the world that’s supposed to mean, the field is gone, and with it, the man. You are walking your neighbor’s dogs home from the park. It is as if no time has passed.

And then, Honey-Pie, a particularly vicious Chiwawa, pulls on his leash, tugging you across the street. Straight into the path of a speeding blue car.

The last thing you see before everything goes dark is the tall man, mouthing two words.

“Stay strong.” 

*** 

Your bill:

Name: Summer

Purchase: Storying

Cost: FREE!

Savings: 50%

Thank you for your purchase, and I hope you enjoy!  

I think your room is small, but bright and airy, with a high ceiling and open windows with sunlight streaming through them. Gauzy, blue curtains are pulled back from the sides of the windows. The walls are a creamy ivory, and the wood floor is a varnished honey-brown, although you can’t see much of it, since it is covered in fuzzy carpets and rugs of every shape, size, and color imaginable. There is a tall bookshelf stuffed full with books in one corner, beside a desk covered in chipped, white paint that will be redone next summer, or else. On the desk is an old fashioned record player playing songs from Les Mis, because I am in charge here. A small cabinet stocked with more music is stashed away in another corner, underneath a pink glass vase full of violets. A low bed is in the corner diagonally across from the bookshelf, with a soft, powder blue comforter on top of it. It would be impeccably made except for the longhaired, orange cat shedding fur all over your favorite pillow. A tall lamp is in the final remaining corner beside a large, green reading chair and a mahogany end table. The room is quite tidy, but definitely lived in, with framed posters on the walls for various musical theater shows and whatever department of A New School you are in. There are a few books and notebooks on the end table and desk. The lamp is on, and you are in your reading chair, reading this description of your room.

*** 

Your bill:

Name: Kitten

Purchase: Word picturing of room

Cost: FREE!

Savings: 50%

Thank you for your purchase, and I hope you enjoy!  

You are rather tall, perhaps a bit more than you might like, with a tan verging on sunburn that comes from reading in a sunny meadow for hours on end. Like a cat, you like the sun. Your hair is a tad bit longer than your shoulders and is pale brown. It would probably be straight if you had remembered to brush it this morning, and it’s held back from your face with a purple headband. You are wearing a spring green t-shirt with a multi-colored abstract art picture of a cat. It is very soft from being worn and washed innumerable times. After all, it is one of your favorites. You are wearing washed-out blue jean shorts with pockets that can actually hold stuff over black capri leggings. Your shoes are sneakers that used to be pale pink before you drew doodles of cats all over them with a purple sharpie.

You are holding an open book, but your bright green eyes are focused elsewhere, scanning the horizon for something you know that you will never see.

***

Your bill:

Name: Feline Fantasy

Purchase: Word picturing

Cost: FREE!

Savings: 50%

Thank you for your purchase, and I hope you enjoy!  

@Everyone: After much deliberation, I have discovered a new fact. If people give me history and/or setting in a storying sheet, then their storying be longer and more plot-oriented. If they do not, then it is usually shorter and theme-based, and inspiration is often drawn from their name, or, in Summer's case, location. So, depending on what kind of story you want, that is what happens.

@Kitten: Thank you for that prompt! I don't think I'm as good of a descriptor as a story-teller, but the description of your room was fun and refreshing to write. 

Yes, hello! I'd like to purchase one storying, please!

Name: Quill

Gender: female, she/her

Appearance: Long brown hair with the ends dyed purple, brown eyes, lots of freckles, a little shorter than average, usually wearing a t-shirt, jeans, maroon leather jacket, and red converse.

Personality: Creative, adventurous, a little impulsive, I'm shy around people I don't know, but animated and talkative around my friends. I need time to recharge after a lot of social interaction. I'm passionate about my beliefs, and I often tell my friends I love them.

Other: History and Setting up to you!

Comments: I can't wait! You're an amazing writer, and these storyings and picturings are just fascinating to read.