Forums Fiction General Writing Discussions FIRST SE FICTION STORY: RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARC

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    Rachel Rogers

    @mariposa Yaaaaaay! Edna’s Spanish finally came in handy! xD

    Ambiverted INFP. Scribbles all the words. Names the plant friends. Secretly Edna the Piguirrel.

    Ben P

    @mariposa XD Best part yet!

    Teletubbies: the ultimate torture device 

    The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think on

    The Fledgling Artist

    @mariposa  Oh no! Will the squad ever be reunited?? 😮

    I thought you sounded like such a cutie with your little *squeal* SEA TURTLE BACKPACK!! So I had to draw you.(Ihopethat’sokay..!)  🙂 I’m not great at capturing likenesses but you can just pretend that it looks exactly like you.

    "Though I'm not yet who I will be, I'm no longer who I was."

    Brandon Miller


    I’mma get somebody now.


    Fair Winds and Following Seas,
    Brandon Miller -- Wesley Turner

    Brandon Miller


    I’mma get somebody now.


    Fair Winds and Following Seas,
    Brandon Miller -- Wesley Turner

    Mariposa Aristeo

    @scribbles Spanish always comes in handy. 😜

    I got the inspiration for teletubbie torture from @christieaton. 😜

    *squeals* That picture is simply lovely! ❤️ Thank you so much!!! 🤗 You literally made my day!



    Cuz you don’t know what’s coming your way. 😏

    The Fledgling Artist

    @mariposa Aww, Yay! You saying that it made your day made my day! 🙂
    I wasn’t sure if this was the most appropriate place to post it.

    "Though I'm not yet who I will be, I'm no longer who I was."

    Andrew Schmidt

    @the-fledgling-artist, that picture is excellent!

    , your stories are highly imaginative. What are you planning in putting in it next?

    Random Stranger: "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
    Me: "Write every inch of your future."

    Mariposa Aristeo

    @andrew If I told you what was going to happen, then it wouldn’t be a surprise. 😜 But I guess I’ll let you in on a few hints: 😉

    There’s going to be poisonous frogs. 🐸

    Exploxions. 💥

    And Edna’s little piggurrel brother.

    Andrew Schmidt

    @mariposa, haha! Poisonous frogs, explosions, and little piggurrel brother! Sounds like fun!

    It would be funny if a bunch of frogs exploded out of a bomb or something that are as red as burning hot metal. Though you’re probably not even going to do that.

    *eagerly waits for part 5*

    Random Stranger: "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
    Me: "Write every inch of your future."

    Gabrielle Pollack

    YAY MORE *gobbles it up* Brillant.


    @mariposa Goodness. xD This is brilliant. *claps* I love how indignant Pennsylvania is about the whole, ‘Author Invasion’ issue!

    Writer | Freelance editor


    @mariposa, this is hilarious!

    Your story is yours and no one else's. Each sunset is different, depending where you stand. -A. Peterson

    Mariposa Aristeo

    Sorry for the wait, folks, but Aberdeen was busy helping me come up with battle strategies to conquer some writer’s block I was facing. So, without any further ado, I present RAIDERS OF THE LOST ART PART 5! @daeus-lamb @christieaton @josiah @brandon-miller  @gabriellepollack @hope-ann @anne-of-lothlorien @andrew @lady-iliara @cindy @gracelivingston

    “Protagonists always get to have all the fun.” Zikergirl slumped, patting Berfurd’s horns.

    Sierra crossed her arms. “It was your idea to stay behind.”

    Zikergirl laid down on the floor next to Berfurd, staring into space. “Yeah, but who would’ve thought keeping an eye on things would be soooo boorrinnnggg.” She yawned.


    Zikergirl and Sierra looked up. “Did you hear that?”

    “Pssst!” The red-headed, top-hat girl peeked out from the shadows and signaled for them to come closer. “Where’s Pennsylvania?”

    “He went to rescue Cindy and Christy,” Sierra told the girl.

    She frowned. “How can he think of rescuing at a time like this? The Gnatsees are bringing in all available troops! I guess we’ll have to pick him up on our way to the arc.”


    “I’m going in.” Pennsylvania grabbed his licorice whip, charging into the camp. Brandon whirled around. Pennsylvania stopped. Brandon narrowed his eyes, taking one step in his direction. His eyes seared into the very heart of Pennsylvania’s courage.

    “Can’t we talk this over?” Pennsylvania pleaded.

    Brandon held his head high. “I wanna fight good guys. It defines who I am.”


    Brandon shrugged. “Someone said it on TV.”

    Pennsylvania pulled out his whip and slashed at Brandon, but he grabbed hold of it and snapped it in two like it was rotted-out toothpick. Pennsylvania kicked, whacking Brandon’s stomach, which felt like it was iron plated. Pennsylvania winced and held his foot. He hopped and hoped Brandon’s fist wasn’t as hard as his stomach.

    Brandon took a swing at him and knocked him straight into the writro glycerin.

    Clank! The barrels tipped, spilling ink everywhere. Pennsylvania covered his eye, which was presumably turning into Storm’s favorite color. He staggered up. “What have you been doing, weightlifting books?”

    “Only The Count of Monte Cristo.” Brandon smirked, picking Pennsylvania up and throwing him in the dirt.

    “No wonder!” Pennsylvania muttered, brushing himself off. Brandon’s shadow loomed over him. He had to do something soon or else be slaughtered—and he couldn’t have that—that would ruin the story!

    Pennsylvania grabbed a fistful of dirt and flung it at Brandon’s eyes, then knocked the rest of the barrels at the incoming recruits. He dove into the tent.

    The curd woman fell out of her chair, dropping her plate. “What are you doing here?” She gasped, wiping the cheesecake gobs off her chin.

    “What have you done with Christi and Cindy?” He pounded his fist on the table.


    Pennsylvania didn’t wait for an answer. He lifted the hatch and dove into the darkness. But they weren’t there.

    “He’s in there! Get him!” The curd woman yelled.

    Pennsylvania raced up the stairs, waylaying the incoming Gnatsees. “Sorry!” he said, not wanting to sound impolite when he was acting impolite.

    “Christi!” he yelled, charging out of the tent.

    “Over here!”

    Pennsylvania looked behind him. Christi, Cindy, and a toeless Gnatsee had climbed on top of the airplane that had frying pans as propellers.

    “Hey, what are you doing?” Pennsylvania shouted.

    “Escaping!” Christi cupped her hands around her mouth as she hopped in the airplane.

    “Hey, that’s not fair! You can’t escape until after I’ve rescued you!” Pennsylvania crossed his arms. Wouldn’t somebody ever listen to his story advice? He started to walk toward them, but Brandon strutted in his path.

    “Cross this line and you die.” Brandon cracked his knuckles, laughing villainously. Gnatsees pounded out, aiming their guns at the plane. Raspberries splattered the windshield. Christi started the engine; the flying pans began whirling. Brandon took a step toward Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania ducked, just barely missing getting another purple eye. He charged at Brandon, pushing him directly toward the plane’s propellers.


    The flying pans sliced off Brandon’s head.

    “Hey, look, Brandon has lost his head!” Cindy chirped, popping the airplane window open and gazing at the headless body below.

    A vehicle screeched. General Raspberry hopped out. He narrowed his eyes. He struck a match and lit the writro glycerin.

    “Run!” Pennsylvania yelled as the flames headed straight for them. Storm, Edna, and the sea turtle girl came up behind them.

    “We’ll never make it!”

    Thump. Thump. Berfurd burst out of the flames with Zikergirl, Sierra, and the top-hat girl riding him. “Hop on!”

    They leaped on. Berfurd stampeded off and out.


    Debris, crumpled pages, and ink exploded into the air.

    “Hey, we made it!” Pennsylvania smiled, but his smile vanished when he looked at the river beside them.

    General Raspberry splashed into the riverbank with his turtle chariot, whipping them. Everyone grew wide-eyed. Turtles were much faster in water.

    “I know a way!” The top-hat girl steered Berfurd to the left, nearing a wooded area. She whistled and two elves peered out of the trees. They lifted some leaves off the ground, revealing an underground entrance.

    “Thanks, Andrew and Iliara!” The top-hat girl saluted as Berfurd led them into the hole.

    Pennsylvania slid off Berfurd and lit a torch on the wall, carrying it down the hall because that’s the expected procedure of action-adventure stories. “Hey, isn’t this the entrance to where the arc is kept?”

    The top-hat girl nodded. Edna twirled her tail excitedly as Pennsylvania headed down the creepy tunnel inside the tomb first. They came to a door. Pennsylvania pushed it open. He gasped, peering into the deep pit below, and listened to the deathly chirps of poisonous tree frogs. Pennsylvania covered his eyes.

    “What’s wrong with him?” Storm put her hand on her hip.

    “He’s terrified of frogs,” Christi whispered into her ear loud enough for Pennsylvania to hear.

    “Hey, well, these aren’t just any frogs—touch one and they’ll give you writer’s block forever,” Pennsylvania argued. Everyone shrieked.

    “Okay, so what’s the backup plan?” Storm pursed her lips.

    Pennsylvania shrugged. “I don’t have any.”

    “But you’re the protagonist—you’re supposed to have a plan.” Storm tapped her foot as Edna glared at him for his inconsistency. “Anyways, at least I have one.”

    Edna climbed into Storm’s violet satchel and pulled out her red pen. She took a leap into the pit and sprayed the red ink over the frogs until they croaked and died.

    “Hey, are you sure it’s safe?” Pennsylvania tied a rope to the edge and lowered himself down slowly.

    “Of course, my red ink has never failed me yet.” Stormed jumped into the pit, followed by the rest of the gang.

    “Hey, there it is!” Pennsylvania exclaimed as they all beheld the arc in all its radiant glory, sitting atop a book-shaped pedestal. It was even more beautiful than Pennsylvania had ever imagined. He raced up the marble stairs and reached for it. His fingers were less than an inch away from it when General Raspberry blasted through the ceiling.

    “Hold it right there!” He pointed his rifle at Pennsylvania.

    Pennsylvania couldn’t let General Raspberry have the arc, so he grabbed it. General Raspberry tackled him, beating Pennsylvania’s head with his raspberry helmet. Sticky pink syrup oozed all over Pennsylvania’s shirt. “Please help me!” He looked Storm, Christi, Cindy, Sierra, Zikergirl, the top-hat girl, and the sea turtle girl straight in the eye.

    “We can’t. This is an action-adventure story—you have to fight your own battles,” they said, standing idly by.

    Pennsylvania groaned. Of all the times to listen to his advice.

    General Raspberry wrapped his hands around Pennsylvania’s throat, trying to choke him. Pennsylvania rammed into him, smashing them both against the wall. The arc flew out of his fingers and crashed a few feet away. They both lunged for it. But just before they reached it, two spiky black boots clomped into view. Two black gloves picked it up. Pennsylvania and General Raspberry slowly peered up at the towering figure who wore a black cape and a black mask.

    “Now I will rule the world!” He threw his head back and laughed, grasping the arc proudly.

    That voice. Pennsylvania gasped. No. It couldn’t be. “Dan…?”

    The masked figure laughed again, pulling out a microphone. “They call me the KINGPEEFER.”

    He hopped onto his black motorcycle and roared off, leaving Pennsylvania and General Raspberry speechless.


    Okay, folks, only ONE more part left—how would you like to see this adventure end?

    Christine Eaton

    @mariposa Well this made my day 🙂

    “I feel a loneliness for my Creator that pulls me like a migratory bird in the Fall.”

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