MintiLime
Unofficial Class President, Author
- Joined
- Jul 1, 2023
- Messages
- 614
- Points
- 93
Prompt: You are a modern day author sent back to the past. Please choose a time period and write in its style.
This is a serious prompt. I will report joke responses.
For example, you could choose to write a modern office romance snippet in the style of Jane Austen, or juxtapose magical girl descriptions with the writing style of The Scarlet Letter.
Speaking of that…
Excerpt from the Scarlet Letter
“The grass-plot before the jail, in Prison Lane, on a certain summer morning, not less than two centuries ago, was occupied by a pretty large number of the inhabitants of Boston, all with their eyes intently fastened on the iron-clamped oaken door. Amongst any other population, or at a later period in the history of New England, the grim rigidity that petrified the bearded physiognomies of these good people would have augured some awful business in hand. It could have betokened nothing short of the anticipated execution of some noted culprit, on whom the sentence of a legal tribunal had but confirmed the verdict of public sentiment. But, in that early severity of the Puritan character, an inference of this kind could not so indubitably be drawn. ”
My Magic Girl version:
The puffy dress, hung on a slender frame, belonging to a slender soul, not more than twenty years of age, was decorated with a pretty large number of sparkles, all illuminating the intensely aggressive monsters on the muddy dungeon floor. In any other place but the dungeon of Sewers, or at any other time than the dead of the night, the lovely outfit that so entranced the entities of animosity dwelling among the floating unmentionables of the dark and detestable place would have garnered such attention and praise as does the jewels of the Pharisee. It could have been eclipsed bynothing short of the red carpet debut of some wealthy heiress turned fashion designer, on whom the wages of the employees of all major press organizations relied upon, such would have been the lengths of control needed to divert public sentiment elsewhere. But, in that damp and smelly place, public favor could not be counted upon with confidence. Monsters have this undiluted power to hate all things lovely on this overwhelmingly dismal planet which renders all questions of preference regarding beauty void of meaning.
This is a serious prompt. I will report joke responses.
For example, you could choose to write a modern office romance snippet in the style of Jane Austen, or juxtapose magical girl descriptions with the writing style of The Scarlet Letter.
Speaking of that…
Excerpt from the Scarlet Letter
“The grass-plot before the jail, in Prison Lane, on a certain summer morning, not less than two centuries ago, was occupied by a pretty large number of the inhabitants of Boston, all with their eyes intently fastened on the iron-clamped oaken door. Amongst any other population, or at a later period in the history of New England, the grim rigidity that petrified the bearded physiognomies of these good people would have augured some awful business in hand. It could have betokened nothing short of the anticipated execution of some noted culprit, on whom the sentence of a legal tribunal had but confirmed the verdict of public sentiment. But, in that early severity of the Puritan character, an inference of this kind could not so indubitably be drawn. ”
My Magic Girl version:
The puffy dress, hung on a slender frame, belonging to a slender soul, not more than twenty years of age, was decorated with a pretty large number of sparkles, all illuminating the intensely aggressive monsters on the muddy dungeon floor. In any other place but the dungeon of Sewers, or at any other time than the dead of the night, the lovely outfit that so entranced the entities of animosity dwelling among the floating unmentionables of the dark and detestable place would have garnered such attention and praise as does the jewels of the Pharisee. It could have been eclipsed bynothing short of the red carpet debut of some wealthy heiress turned fashion designer, on whom the wages of the employees of all major press organizations relied upon, such would have been the lengths of control needed to divert public sentiment elsewhere. But, in that damp and smelly place, public favor could not be counted upon with confidence. Monsters have this undiluted power to hate all things lovely on this overwhelmingly dismal planet which renders all questions of preference regarding beauty void of meaning.
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