[Originally written and suggested by @Coral, continued by Dora_Serge, and then CocoPop picked up the thread. Mars and Lokus took over, then Daria, then CocoPop, then Coral, then Ouassou and Lokus again.]

How about writing a story together? We've already read a few books together. Writing a whole story takes time and ideas don't grow on trees. I’ll start, and you just have to copy/paste what is written into a new post so that you can continue the story as you wish. You can write a paragraph, a line, or just a sentence and then publish it so that anyone else can pick up the story where you left off. You can also add some drawing to illustrate it! I'm sure this is going to be fun. And, of course, native English speakers are more than welcome to participate. Come on, let’s do it! It’ll be our lovely Frankenstory.

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Coral:♈he year is 2087. Humanity has survived climate change, but has learned its lesson. Borders are history and large areas of land have been devoured by seas and oceans. However, potable water is so scarce that on the black market they call it "the liquid diamond".

Dora_Serge: ♏arwin closed his laptop with a loud slam and stretched out. The story sucks. Poor start. Why on earth did he ever become a writer? Why not a software engineer as his mom insisted? He checked the time. 7:45 am. He glanced outside. The blazing sun blinded him. Too hot for April 26. Maybe a disaster story about climate change and all that stuff wouldn't be a bad idea... However.. Let's take a morning swim first. Happily, we still have enough fresh water to fill the swimming pool. Where the hell are my swim trunks?

CocoPop: "♈️runks? Who needs them?! Besides, who's gonna see me in the privacy of my own back yard with all these hedges. And if they do somehow manage to get an eyeful, what's the harm? What am I, Medusa? What's the point of all this diet and exercise if the sight of me in my birthday suit sends people into tizzies?" Stealthily and silently, Marvin dragged the hose to the pool, then turned the water on just enough to top it off without making too much noise. God forbid the AquaPol should hear it and fine him again. As he stood there akimbo, in all his naked glory, a gleam caught his eye. Looking up beyond the tall hedges that surrounded his pool area, he saw what looked like a man hanging off a trellis across the street, and the gleam seemed to be coming from a pair of binoculars pressed to his face with his free hand...

Mars: ♏arvin couldn't believe it. Someone was actually spying on him when he tried to enjoy his morning swim! He shook his head, feeling harassed, but a bit amused. "What's wrong with people these days? Don't they have anything better to do?" He muttered as he covered himself with a towel. Then, he tried to go through all the potential suspects in his mind. Was it the nosy neighbor with loud music and the dog that won't stop barking? Or the eccentric old lady down the street who always wore a raincoat and sunglasses, even on the hottest day? Marvin snapped out of his daydream, feeling like he was in a bad spy movie.

Lokus: ♓️e remembered when he'd crossed paths with the new neighbor from across the street the other day. He wasn't sure if he would recognize him again, so inconspicuous a man was he. Did he have a short grey beard? Was it blond? Was he in his fifties? Late forties? Early sixties? Difficult to tell. But the encounter left Marwin insecure and a little uneasy, as the neighbor hadn't returned his greeting. Was he a foreigner?

The recollection put him off his swim. 'I could also take a swim later', he said to himself, 'The guy will eventually tire and go away'. He was sure now it was the new neighbor. What a weirdo. Or was he from the AquaPol? Have they started employing deep-cover spies?

He returned to his laptop leaving wet footprints on the way back to his desk. 'The liquid diamond': he had to make the most out of this metaphor — it could even work for the title.

When his next sentence took perfect shape in his mind and he was about to type it, the buzz of his telephone made him jump in his seat. Ron Roberts, his literary agent, called again at the worst possible moment. He would have loved nothing more than to throw the phone out the window, but he couldn't afford not to answer.

"Marwin, how’s it going?" Ron's voice was soft and charming, which could only mean trouble. "I was thinking of you, dear boy. I even had a dream about you: can you believe that? How's my story? The deadline is in six weeks, so I suppose you're concluding. You know I'm counting on you, don't you?"

Dora_Serge: "♑úmero incorrecto," Marwin answered in Spanish and added in German just for good measure: "Falsche Nummer, ich kenne keinen Marwin". Then he slammed the phone down. Ron won't get offended - he's used to snippy conversations like this.

Six weeks..In six weeks he has to be ready with his story and with his divorce. He hated his wife, who like an immense octopus, stifled him with her tentacles. And these tentacles had specific names: mediocrity, lofty ambitions and lack of imagination. Boring, she was. Dull as ditchwater. Water..water...swimming pool…A thought suddenly popped into: What if...."

♒️hat if… Yes! I’ll put my desk in the shallow part of the pool and if the AquaPol tries anything, I’ll claim it’s my work space; I can only get inspired to write if I’m halfway immersed in water! Then this book isn’t the only thing I’ll write — I'll even be able to write my water bill and pool maintenance costs off come tax time. Why didn’t I think of this before?! At that moment, from behind him came the familiar, whiny, creaky, shrill voice that always made the blood freeze in his veins… “What do you think you’re doing, Marvin? And who the hell are you talking to??!! Isn't it a bit early to be hitting the sauce?!"

(Coral)

🦴 have a lot of work to do, Octavia. I already signed the divorce papers. What do you want now?

I just came to pick up the rest of my stuff and say ciao, caro Marwin.

Are you going to Italy or this pizzeria around the corner?

Very funny. I'm going to LA.

That makes sense — octopuses don't last long out of water.

Why don't you save your witty banter for your novels? They could use it...

You'd better go, Octavia. I can't stand you. Your voice really riles me up.

Now you want to play "in vino veritas"? You definitely lack the guts, so I better go. See you in hell!

Marwin poured himself another glass of wine and sat down at his laptop. He cracked his knuckles hard before he began typing with speed and rage, tons of it.

"Rivers were no longer navigable, cattle were dying of thirst and only the oldest remembered seeing snowy peeks in their childhood. The urge of finding water turned the dowsers into highly paid Gods of Fortune. Their instinct for finding water underground was beyond the comprehension of most, and rightly so — equipped with a simple fork-shaped olive twig, they were able to sense water up to thirty feet underground, without a shadow of a doubt."

Ouassou: He drank further. A fork-shaped olive twig... Marwin slapped his wet feet to the kitchen, grabed a can of greek olives, cut small cubes of cheese, and brought his snack to the desk. He toped up his glass. Why wouldn't he enjoy his day, after all? Pervert neighbours, toxic wives, filthy bosses. He'd enjoy his day no matter what, and he'd just gotten the necessary things to do precisely that.

"Ever since drought had struck the planet, water-detection technologies had been pushed to their limits. Governments, multinationals, small startups, everyone had been perfecting the art of finding water. But no technology came close to the precision and swiftness of water-sorcerers. The Source Manuscript said (translated): The day will come when white deserts will cover the bottom of the dying oceans. In the hand of a sourcerer, olive trees remember the echos of water, for their roots have been seeking it since the beginning of time. He who's hand senses the whispers of water when all other's are deaf shall wear its diamonds as a crown"

He let out an irrepressible burp. Why had the old hag bought sparkling wine? He sighed. Marwin still had no idea about the hero of his story. Yeah, he had considered introducing Roon, an evil water-hoarding tyrant, or Oktafia, the ugly, big-ass sand kraken, but it wasn't really helping his story at this point.

Lokus: 🗼 loud noise coming from the garage caught his attention. He turned back and saw Octavia moving large cardboard boxes. A few of them must have fallen from the high shelves. Undeterred, she was rummaging through them, picking up some things, tossing away others, sorting, mixing and, mostly, creating mess. Was she doing it on purpose? Most likely, yes. How mad she must be seeing him ignoring her. That's precisely why he was going to continue, even if she decided to set fire to the place. She'd love to see him abandon his story, abandon his dreams, abandon his sanity and chase her. She was not going to get that.

Marwin filled his glass again and watched the last drops of the red liquid drip from the bottle. He took a deep breath.

"The water-sorcerers were organized in guilds; each had a distinct totem of an aquatic animal. Most of the guilds resembled hippie communes, with loose structure and principles. But not the the Octopus Guild. The Octopus Sorcerers were gloomy and withdrawn. They hid in deep vaults on the outskirts of cities and were rarely seen. There was talk of them having much more power than they were willing to admit. Also of their wicked plans for the world. Whenever they were called in, new fountains spurted up in the middle of nowhere, but at the same time, small animals and children mysteriously disappeared..."

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