Tonukurio

This is a story of the Wannabe Webnovelist Team (aka WW) who slaved over writing for five years and did not receive a single reader, only to discover that the person responsible for the final edit and publishing in the Wannabe Webnovelist writing team never actually published anything. He had only uploaded everything to the drafts.

Sit back and relax (or not) as you try to figure out which character has written which paragraph or chapter. Not to mention working out how many people are actually in this team - this may fluctuate. The WW team's rules in this novel are that once a chapter has been published, no one in the team can edit it.

(NB: all the characters in this work are fictional and while any resemblance to real life people are not entirely coincidental - no insults are meant. This is a completely tongue in cheek, rubbish piece of nothing. Yes, you read that right. If you find this as nonsensical as the author, then 'high five!' You are on the right page.)

Also, has this story really been discontinued? Wait and see... because if it really has been discontinued, we hope the readers enjoy being left hanging on the cliff edge - or just hanging, cos there's nothing wrong with just hanging about.

Addit Oct 2023:
WW is on a long break. Who knows if they'll ever get back together or come back (in fact, I doubt they will ever return - I think they've given up). Therefore, you will receive random short stories instead.

This is absolutely discontinuous nonsense

I had an idea. It flitted and floated with all the shininess of a new floating lightbulb. Quickly, I hurried to open a new window, only for a blank page to stare at me with stark whiteness.


I now have no clue of what the shiny new idea was other than the fact that:


4. It was comical and hilarious. Floor slapping, tummy hurting, roll on the floor laughing kind of humourous.


5. It was the best thing since sliced bread


6. There are a lot of things better than sliced bread. Why is sliced bread amazing to the point that it became an English saying? Are you telling me that before people sliced bread, they tore it apart with their hands or teeth like barbarians?


7. Everybody uses their hands and teeth to eat, not just barbarians. Which means that everybody could potentially be a barbarian. If everyone were barbarians, why are barbarians getting the short end of the stick here with the negative connotations attached? It's not their fault they have hands and teeth like everyone else and know how to use them. That is unless they're a plant or some sort of inanimate or non-living object, but if that was so, they wouldn't be barbarians anymore.


8. I digress. Let's return to the main point.


All those jokes and the developing storyline. Gone. Just like that. 


My fancy new masterpiece went poof and disappeared into the ether, unlike sliced bread and barbarians whom continue to live among us. In fact, my house has a few of them. Barbarians, not sliced bread or fancy new masterpieces. They're the cavemen type who grunt when you ask them to do something, fart at you when you ask for a hand and stink up the house with their sweaty socks and unwashed three week old clothes that they refuse to wash.


I don't mind that they don't give me a hand, because honestly, detaching a real hand if it's not a prosthetic, is just messy, disgusting and ultimately useless. Can't they at least clean up after themselves and shower a minimum of once a week if not twice a day? Because I suspect the smell has interrupted the ether, causing me to lose my shiny new idea.


That's right. The loss of my world breakingly awesome idea is all the fault of those cavemen barbarians living in my house and their smell.


And since the word feels so awesome and mysterious to say, I'm going to say the word a few more times.


The heifer was tethered with leather together with a feather that floated in the ether during the windy weather. A wafer thin tread of red lead was kicked out of its shed when the farmer said with some dread that the red lead could kill it dead after the thief fled and hit his head.


I'm done playing with words. If I had enough rhyming words and could be more bothered, perhaps I'd have found a way to make the rhyming words kit into a rapping rhythm. As it is, it's not really my forte. Hence I will retreat and leave that horrible rhyming story to your imagination to discard.


18. Blank