Pick Your Own YA Fantasy

Okay, folks. Let’s get real here for a moment. Today should be part 15 of this ongoing web story. It’s been a strange experiment, and I’ve enjoyed parts of it and disliked other parts of it. Writing a story 1,000 words at a time with input from the readers has been less than ideal. I loved the input, but the haphazard pacing hasn’t been very fun. And then there’s that bit about “input from the readers.” Part 14 has been viewed once. One time. That might even have been me looking at it. Hard to tell. But suffice it to

[Welcome to part fourteen of my continuing blog series. I write the book, you pick the plot. For earlier parts, see part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, and part 13.] In the end, of course, everyone went through the door. John swung it wide, and it revealed a midnight black nothingness, almost as if he’d opened a door onto a piece of black velvet. Not that it was just a dark room: it shimmered around the edges when you weren’t looking at it, and made you frightened to turn your back on it at

[Welcome to part thirteen of my continuing blog series. I write the book, you pick the plot. For earlier parts, see part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, and part 12.] Imagine you’re standing in front of an electrified door going at full volt, crackling with energy and lightning, and you’re told you have to touch the chair. What’s the scariest result you could imagine? As John reached out for the door knob, several scenarios flashed through his mind. The electricity jolting through his body. The room exploding with some unknown energy. The door opening to

[Welcome to part twelve of my continuing blog series. I write the book, you pick the plot. For earlier parts, see part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, and part 11.] John looked at the Tome of Ra, looked at Liese, checked the electrified door one more time, then said, “You know what? I think we should get out of here.” Liese blinked, startled. “What?” “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he explained. “I went to bed last night just having a normal life. I woke up in the middle of a dream by the sounds of

[Welcome to part eleven of my continuing blog series. I write the book, you pick the plot. For earlier parts, see part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, and part 10.] “The sphinx speaks in riddles,” John said. “There’s no way the answer is to just go down the passage on the right for 210 steps and then turn. It’s too simple.” “But what else could he be meaning?” Liese said. “There are four seasons. There are seven days in a week. I don’t see any other way to interpret them.” “But what if the Sphinx was talking