This is a fun writing exercise where each person adds an episode. The writing to be rather extravagant and exaggerated -- in other words "Over the Top'.
The person finishing the story also adds a title.
I will start it.

I originally put this in the Hobbies section, but as most of the games here seem to be to do with words, thought maybe this would be a better place.

Gerard lay, eyes staring into space, face grey against the black satin sheets he had always favoured, his emaciated, almost skeletal form dwarfed by the king-sized bed. His long-suffering wife Nancy, overcome by fatigue and the deepest anguish of mind and spirit, slumped shapelessly in the chair beside his bed, watching helplessly as the vultures began to gather, their lust for money more powerful than the stench of carrion.
His mistress Trixie hovered, sweetness drooling like treacle from bright pouting lips. Not to be outdone, ex wife, Nona, patted his hand gingerly, showing off the many jewelled rings on her plump fingers while whispering the most inane platitudes.
Who was the other woman, Nancy wondered... Della something or other? Looking as if she'd just stepped from vogue magazine, she addressed him as Gerry darling, and kissed the air near his cheek. Nancy felt ill. If they didn't go soon she would scream.
As Gerard's eyes slowly closed, his breathing becoming laboured and rattling, the rapacious trio, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, excused themselves one by one, and left. Thank God, thought Nancy, knowing that Gerard would soon meet his maker. She pressed her lips to his forehead and clasped his hand in hers, to comfort him and ease his transition into the next world. A tear escaped his eye and ran slowly down his cheek....

Valsi, you have a wonderful way with words. I would love to be able to write an episode, but have neither the time or ability at present. Hope to get on to it one day!

Ditto

Well perhaps you could try writing a paragraph each.

Gerard lay, eyes staring into space, face grey against the black satin sheets he had always favoured, his emaciated, almost skeletal form dwarfed by the king-sized bed. His long-suffering wife Nancy, overcome by fatigue and the deepest anguish of mind and spirit, slumped shapelessly in the chair beside his bed, watching helplessly as the vultures began to gather, their lust for money more powerful than the stench of carrion.
His mistress Trixie hovered, sweetness drooling like treacle from bright pouting lips. Not to be outdone, ex wife, Nona, patted his hand gingerly, showing off the many jewelled rings on her plump fingers while whispering the most inane platitudes.
Who was the other woman, Nancy wondered... Della something or other? Looking as if she'd just stepped from vogue magazine, she addressed him as Gerry darling, and kissed the air near his cheek. Nancy felt ill. If they didn't go soon she would scream.
As Gerard's eyes slowly closed, his breathing becoming laboured and rattling, the rapacious trio, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, excused themselves one by one, and left. Thank God, thought Nancy, knowing that Gerard would soon meet his maker. She pressed her lips to his forehead and clasped his hand in hers, to comfort him and ease his transition into the next world. A tear escaped his eye and ran slowly down his cheek....


His shallow breathing became more erratic and uncertain. Within seconds it had ceased and silence filled the room. Gerard’s eyelids had closed for the last time, shutting out the odious audience. Shutting out a world of women who had brought him, love, lust, joy and heartbreak.

Nancy rose from her chair almost trance like and cradled Gerard’s head in her arms, stroking his unshaved face with such tenderness. His white hair like fine silk between her fingers. Memories rushed through her mind. Their first glance at each other across the dance hall floor, their first kiss, the bended knee in the kitchen one evening and the champagne afterwards.
Forty-one years of being together…three children, and then the affair, heartbreak and tears. Now she felt alone, abandoned, with a large estate to manage and thin armour to fight off the enemy that began to crowd in around her.

Trixie put her handkerchief away and her true mask was in place. Her eyes like dark beads darted around the room looking for valuables and mentally she had already started adding up their worth. Yes, her handbag was quite large and she doubted if anyone would notice if a few items happened to disappear.

Nona, let out a shriek like a wild banshee and stumbled out of the room in search of a strong whiskey. Her long lived passion for dramatics was well-known, as was her over-indulgence for the ‘bottle’. Once quite a beauty, her complexion had faded and layers of make-up tried to hide the pain she felt inside.

Della delicately dabbed a tissue to her nose and picked up her Louis Vitton handbag and remarked she was in need of some fresh air and would leave her card on the hall table, so she could be contacted by the family solicitor for the reading of the WIll. Her heel heels clicked across the polished wood floor on her exit, tall and gaunt her silhouette had a predatory stance, and she would be back for rich pickings.

Della delicately dabbed a tissue to her nose and picked up her Louis Vitton handbag and remarked she was in need of some fresh air and would leave her card on the hall table, so she could be contacted by the family solicitor for the reading of the WIll. Her heel heels clicked across the polished wood floor on her exit, tall and gaunt her silhouette had a predatory stance, and she would be back for rich pickings.

A discreet tap on the door announced the arrival of the undertaker, ready as always with his unctuous smile and hands gently massaging each other ... Nancy wondered in a slightly hysterical way if he was born like that or was it learned behaviour. She mentally shook herself and stepped back from the bedside, quietly requesting that he and his assistant take over from her. Shakily, she made her way into the corridor and towards the ornate, curving staircase which led down to the spacious living rooms below.

Gaining the ground floor, she fumbled for the bellpull, which would bring a minion from the kitchen area ... she badly needed a cup of tea and something stronger to counteract the shock of Gerald's demise. "What would you like, Ma'am?" asked the maid with barely disguised disdain, all the while thinking, "Reely! That old geezer promised me money and jewels in return for a quick feel and wot did 'e go and do? Snuff it, that's wot! I won't see any reward now, that's for sure!" As she turned away to fetch the tea and brandy, her thoughts turned to just how she could recompense herself for "the old geezer's" lechery.

Nancy sat in one of the enormous, padded armchairs in front of an unlit fire, her thoughts filled with sadness and memories. She didn't notice Trixie's shadow flit across the open doorway, nor the suspcious bulge in her capacious handbag.

Come on ladies, do some more as it is really good. You are all super writers.

I think the problem is trying to keep the characters all in your head and maintaining their personalities. It is easy to do at the beginning but as the story progresses it gets harder to keep track as different threads are introduced, and one has to keep re reading it. Perhaps I am just slow

No not slow. I agree that the part you speak of is very hard. Maybe you could all write a whole book each instead lol