Sup CBers! I

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Sup CBers! I

Sup CBers! I have a cool idea for a challenge. I will write a paragraph if a story, and then you guys write the next paragraph. Every week I will look through the comments and pick out the best paragraph to add to the story! How's that sound? I'll start:

If Thomas had known what was coming his way on that frosty November morning, he wouldn't have gone within 10 feet of the mailbox. But he only had a limited human mind, so he didn't notice what kind of trouble was brewing outside of his home until he was opening the envelope. Even his mother, who apparently always knew everything (at least, according to Thomas), was clueless as to what lay written on the piece of paper sealed in the envelope. But when Thomas read the letter, his heart practically stopped. Because what he read was:

 

See you next Monday!

Harold P., AKA Nilgo the Sleepy 

submitted by Harold P., age 13, Ohio
(July 26, 2021 - 2:35 pm)

I'm gonna put your last sentence here as well so it is clear where I am beginning. 

Because what he read was:

You have been chosen. 

Thomas flipped over the letter, but there was nothing exept a swirly, red symbol. Why did he feel like he recognized it? Shaking his head, Thomas dismised the thought. It was probably just a prank letter from one of his friends - they loved doing that. He decided to place the note on his desk to look at later. It clearly wasn't important. But, oh how Thomas was wrong. He would regreat that choice for the rest of his life. 

submitted by Neverseen
(July 27, 2021 - 12:57 pm)
submitted by Topity Top, age Topapaloza, Topolopolis
(July 27, 2021 - 12:57 pm)
submitted by Topping co.
(August 11, 2021 - 12:14 am)

What he didn't know was that a certain, rather unpleasant looking old lady was peeking her nosy eyes out her curtains and into his bedroom. Don't ask me why, but for some reason he didn't notice Mrs. Smith and her glasses, which fell to the very end of her extremely large nose. He didn't even notice the fact that the clip clipping her long gray hair in a tight bun had the exact same symbol as the one on the envelope that had puzzled him for a few moment or two. No, he didn't notice any of that, not only because he was too busy packing his ice skates for his skating lesson, but also because people rarely ever noticed Mrs. Smith. They rarely noticed her house either. That is, if it could be called a house. I don't doubt for a second that even the thought of living there would make Mrs. Smith cry. It was in fact, a portal, an entrance. An entrance to...

submitted by Caroline, age She/her
(August 17, 2021 - 9:28 pm)