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Writing Prompt: A person wakes up in bed, drenched in salty sea water | He awoke without reason and spent the rest of the day searching for it. He would have changed, but he couldn't find any clothes. He would have left, but he couldn't find a door. Instead, he found a gaping hole leading strait into a barren hallway. He couldn't see the end, but he chased it anyways. Running, watching as lamp after lamp pass him, identical to the one before. No doors were seen, no people were passed, no turn appeared.
The darkness at the end of his vision seemed to be greeting him, slowly creeping the further he ran. Eventually, the young man caught up to it, feeling as big as he ever will. He was there were the hallway ended. Complete space was before him, and he was reluctant to jump.
But he felt a force behind him push him with all his might, forcing his leap of faith. He didn't know where to go, or what he was going on for. He was lost, and time stood still. So many direction, and each one as risky and dangerous. He finaly gained his courage and went his direction, whatever that might be.
He didn't do great, but he did good enough. His freedom was new but frightening, but be this time his clothes dried. He discovered that the longer he headed in only one direction, the harder it was to change.
After along time the man saw something ahead again. It looked like a light, but it was to dim to be sure. Part of him thought it was just his imagination, but he knew not to listen to that part. The problem it was in a different direction, and his rails were holding him in. So he cut them down and chased that glow with all the might he had. I took a long time, but he found the light. It led to a one-dementional hallway again. This time, though, it seemed a bit dimmer and a bit nicer. He was tired and wanted to lie down and he knew he was almost at his room and he ran again. He missed those hallways, the simplicity, the direction. As he ran the hallway became brighter, much brighter than he had ever experienced. He chased and chased for along time until he was almost out of breath, and then he found the door. His suit was wet again from his sweat, and his bed was made for him, and so the old man decided to fall asleep leaving everything behind. | 3 | 0 | 12 | 0 |
Writing Prompt: A person wakes up in bed, drenched in salty sea water | Going to give my own prompt here a go...
The smell of the ocean filled his nose. Jason awoke, but he was disorientated. Was this his bedroom? He couldn't tell. All he could make out were hazy shapes. His vision took a short while to correct itself. His eyes adjusted to this dark room. He felt a cold sensation and noticed his clothes were sopping wet.
He sat up in the bed for what felt like hours trying to collect his thoughts. Where was he? It certainly wasn't anywhere he'd ever been before. How did he get here? He didn't remember anything about his life beyond waking up... and if he couldn't remember anything before then, he thought, how would he know that he had never been in this room before? Nevertheless, he just *felt* that he hadn't.
He swung his feet out of the bed and was about to stand up when he heard a voice over a speaker:
"Careful, agent. You need to stay in that area until transfer."
Jason looked around. Agent? Of what?
"Hello? Who is there? Where am I? You called me an agent? What's that? Can you turn on some lights in here?"
The loudspeaker came on again and the man sighed audibly, as if he was annoyed by Jason.
"Agent, just sit there and be patient. If you get up now, you'll lose your mind. We could restrain you, but we'd prefer not to... because you'll be cross with us later."
"...this is making no sense. What about the lights? I'd like to see where I am."
"I'm afraid that's not yet possible. Your brain wouldn't be able to process the... hold on."
Jason sat there, twiddling his thumbs. He didn't want to follow the instructions of the voice, but he certainly couldn't go stumbling about in the dark. It was at this moment, Jason's wrist started beeping. He looked down and saw a blinking clock embedded just underneath his palm. The numbers were dim but they were like burning beacons in his eyes. This small sliver of light was unbearable to him. His wrist was counting down from ten. As he noticed this, the voice came over the speaker:
"OK, Agent. Please lay down again for the next few seconds."
He did so, automatically. After a few more seconds, Jason felt a tingling sensation all throughout his head. His eyes widened and he gasped audibly. Sensations filled his mind. He went through ten different emotions all within a moment.
Then... recognition.
"You can turn on the lights now. My memories have finally come back." He announced to the empty room.
The lights flicked on and he could see through the glass his friend Nathaniel, beaming.
"This is why I hate doing missions in the deep sea, Nat." Jason sniffed. "The lag time between body teleportation and mind teleportation is excruciating."
"Sorry, Jason." Nathaniel replied over the speaker. "You knew when you took the mission that the particles get distorted in the waters and it's harder to reconstitute you here. Hell, you're lucky your mind even came back to you."
Jason laughed.
"Who knew that the consciousness was an actual tangible thing? I'm telling you, teleportation has helped us understand the human mind just a little bit more. If only the world knew such a technology existed." | 1 | 0 | 12 | 1 |
Writing Prompt: A person wakes up in bed, drenched in salty sea water | Her eyes opened with a breath as deep as the ocean she rocked on, and she couldn't breathe enough. The air was heavy and stale, and her chest rose stiffly. Her iron-tinged white shirt clung to her muscled torso and the tied arms of the jumpsuit were a gradient of wet to salt-starched. A small pool of water gleaned on the convex floor.
The door, she thought, and lifted a foot up, still heaving, to the stainless ladder in the all-white, instrument-laden globe, clung to the hatch and, wheezing, tensed her body. A drop of blood let from a small gash above her restrained hairline. The striations in her shoulders sharpened and the wheel gave. She spun the wheel, retracting the bars from their places, and with a hard jut, broke the seal on the outer capsule wall. All there was was sun, sun for days. She had to keep her eyes shut or risk eternal blindness, so it seemed. She could hear the small mounds of water splashing against the angles of the capsule, and she could feel the warmth and denseness of the air, and she could breathe now. She could also hear a constant hum. A plane, she thought. No, it's rhythmic, she thought. A boat.
And so it was. She cracked her reddened eyes enough to see the boat with uniformed men and a flag of some country. She didn't care which. Just get me home, she thought. She waved to make sure they saw her, and laughed at her own stupidity. At least she could breathe. They were getting close and one of them was yelling.
"Udelal jsi to! Udelal jsi to!"
She shook her head, "I don't know what you're saying!"
They reached her, "Udelal jsi to! You made it! You made it!"
She smiled, "Czech? They sent the Czechs."
She gazed down into the capsule and felt that feeling of abruptness, that there just wasn't enough time. Her hand gave the ladder a small, unknowing tap goodbye.
She hopped on board the small, black boat and they covered her with a rough blanket.
"Thank you. Dekuji," she tried her best with the accent.
"You made it. You are the first!"
"I know. And I'd like to go home now, please."
"Home you go, trochu Martian divka." Little Martian girl.
The boat oscillated off over the mounds and hills of water, humming rhythmic until the sound disappeared with the horizon. The water lapped against the burnt metal of the capsule. | 1 | 0 | 12 | 2 |
Writing Prompt: A person wakes up in bed, drenched in salty sea water | The Dream
The dream was so horrifying he felt he had to continue. Scrambling, grabbing, clawing at his sheets, they felt steely and cold against his cheeks. Flashes of grey and green and white, clouded his eyes as he tried to shut them tight. He couldn’t breathe, his lungs were on fire. Frantic, he awoke to find his drowned shipmates floating amongst their barracks. His captain had warned of a storm earlier that night; he thought, as he slipped back to sleep.
edit: added a comma | 1 | 0 | 12 | 3 |
Writing Prompt: A person wakes up in bed, drenched in salty sea water | The boat is sinking....
I can tell. From my small, circular window, I can see the mast stabbing itself into the water and creating a drag as the sail unwinds itself and flows behind like a white river. The wood ceiling above my head creaks and I'm fairly certain that the boat is listing to the left.
I pull my blanket up closer to my chest and roll my pillow over to feel the brisk side against my cheek, but that side is wet too. It was water splashing in from my little porthole which woke me up. There is no dry part of my blanket now, so I sit up in my cot, and realize that this will all probably be underwater soon.
Oh well, I fell asleep in the hotel room a few hours ago. None of this is real.
Right? | 2 | 0 | 12 | 4 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | "I said move!" he shouted, frightened to find them in his own backyard. But the crowd stood huddled together, remaining still and unmoving. With an unwavering pace, he began stomping his footsteps, to amplify his demeanor and approach. But as he came closer toward the dozen or so vagrants, he caught sight of some movement, hid within the round of their collective feet.
They should have all scattered, at his first hint of approach, but then again he had never before seen more than three or four gather together, clasping hands in this way.
With a pause in his step, he leaned his chin into his right shoulder and reported. "Check that 32. I got a Hub here. Count..." his eyes danced around the enclosed circle of bodies, counting silently with trembling breath. "...count 12 confirmed. Over."
"Why here at my home? Is it not enough, chasing them in the streets?" he thought as he awaited instructions. Despite being so close, he couldn't make out what writhed in the earth where they stood. Emboldened by their vacant expressions and pearly dead eyes, his hungry curiosity coasted him to a creep down onto his knees by their side.
Touching at the black soil with arrested fingers, he was flushed into panic as he unearthed a newborn child.
A hiss in his earpiece returned a reply. "Unit B3. This is 32. Clear the area. Sending extermination unit. Over."
Paternal instinct set him to tear the root-bound fetus from the ground, and run.
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[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize |
Shit. I remember this from when I was just a youngen, a teen with power, sigh! time does fly.
'Hey Sally come look at what I found, I buried it in the back garden years ago.'.
"What now Tim? I've got to finish clearing Mums room out." chirps sally.
'Look it's my creativy box from way back when we used to mess around in fathers garage, it only took me a week to make.'
'Wow, that's.. well amazing, fuck look - just there, all the detail you put into that peice.'
'I know, quick pass me that magnifying glass from Dads tool box. Aww, look it's got some living creatures on it.'
'What are they?'
'I can't quite remember. In fact I always made a note of everything and taped it to the inside of the box, wait a sec.'
'Ahh yes here we go,'
`Dear Tim of the Future,`
`This is your creativity box, what lies within is a place you called the universe. Two creatures reside within, Humans and Animons, let them develop and provide help when needed.`
'Fuck.' | 0 | 0 | 30 | 6 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | The fading scars left by her first fifteen years in Memphis became immediate the moment she found herself in front of that dilapidated mansion. The house, once grandiloquent antebellum architecture, had decayed in time, the slums swallowing another piece of history. The city was a slow death and escape had been the best, the only option. She could give a fuck about the city and she could give a fuck about her mother, horrible bitch that woman had been. Dying had reignited Sarah’s hatred for her, hate for the horrible childhood, the beatings and verbal abuse, the weeks of alcohol-soaked neglect, for compelling Sarah to come back to this awful fucking place. Even dead, her mother manufactured wounds.
Sarah walked gingerly through the overgrown grasses surrounding the house. Patches of dirt and bouquets of weeds battled to suffocate the lawn. It was humid, the short trip from the parked car to the back porch had drenched her in an uncomfortable sweat. Three nights dancing at the club given up for what? This bullshit? She kicked at one of the aging cinder blocks lining the stairs. It rolled over, splitting in half and revealing a weathered cardboard box. An instant, a wince of remembrance went through her as she pulled it out from underneath the porch.
Inside were papers: Sarah, age 6, age 7, age 8. When I grow up, I want to be a vet, I want to be a teacher, I want to be a doctor. | 2 | 0 | 30 | 7 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Kylie was digging a hole. She squatted in the dirt, her hands turning the same dark brown as her curls and garden loam she displaced. It was slow work. She wasn’t allowed to use a spade since she had left it outside one rainy night, but her stick was sharp. She was digging to China – or buried diamonds! Whichever came first was fine with her.
Kylie dug with the intensity and anticipation of a 6 year old. Something magic was sure to come out of the hole, you just had to dig far enough to find it. Kylie wondered who had buried the treasure she was about to find. Maybe it was a pirate, maybe a king - maybe a pirate king! She dug alone in her backyard. Her mother was inside watching the evening news, her father was still at work.
Kylie’s stick struck something hard. She let out a little gasp, but continued to dig slowly, methodically. She savored the anticipation. Soon her excitement took over and her tiny fingers grabbed handfuls of dirt and brushed the cold object below. It was smooth and a dull grey, though it had once been white. It curved like a ball, a medium sized ball, not like the baseballs and kick balls at school. Her fingers scrambled to clean the object.
Kylie stopped digging. She stared at the object in her garden, and ran inside to her mother.
“Momma, I think someone got lost on the way to China.” | 2 | 0 | 30 | 8 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Rose ran across the grounds with the speed and enthusiasm that can only be mustered by the young.
"It's incredible! It's so big! Was this a princess's house?"
Her mother and father chuckled mildly at their daughter as they craned their necks to take it all in. Before, they could have never have afforded such a place; it was something to be dreamed of, but never attained. But things were different now, changed since the war. Once proud houses stood like grand aristocratic husks, devoid of life. They sat silently in empty streets, waiting for people to come and fill them up again.
For the dilapidated mansion that seemed to spread itself in every direction, those people where young Rose and her parents, opportunistic and bold. Rose’s mother slipped her hand into the warm embrace of her husband's, smiling wearily at him as his expression mirrored hers.
“It’s finally over,” she dared to say.
He was about to reply when he realized they had lost sight of their daughter.
“Rose?”
“Daddy, back here, I found something!” came her tiny voice from the other side of a thick hedge.
They wrestled their way through and found their daughter atop a snub, bullet-shaped monstrosity buried halfway deep in the unkempt grass. Rose sat wedged between two large fins on either side of it.
“What is it, Daddy?”
Her father’s eyes bulged in fear as her mother screamed.
“Rose get off there, right now!”
But it was already too late.
| 1 | 0 | 30 | 9 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 30 | 10 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | [deleted] | -2 | 0 | 30 | 11 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | I wake up. The sun is sitting on my face. I brush it off and I go to the bathroom. I look into the mirror.
An unshaven face from outside reality looks back. *Yet another Tuesday morning.* I sigh. I turn on the faucet and splash fluid on my face and I pull out my crucifix from my pocket and I drag it down my face and tentacles slide into the void.
My alarm clock screams. *I'm going to be late for work.* I throw my clothes into the toilet and run out the door.
The grass pulls me off the porch and drags. *Now I'm late.* I punch it and it vanishes, leaving the cement ground behind. There is a box of air in the ground.
I walk over to the box and remove the top, inside is a fist-sized rock. I poke it. It doesn't move. I pick it up. It stays on my tentacle.
I walk back inside and head to my laboratory. It ignores the spirits in the room. I throw holy water at it. It gets wet. I hit it with a chisel. A shard falls off.
*Maybe it's just an ordinary rock?*
*No. That's impossible.* I rub my eyes. *I have to be rational - it's just a shape-shifting imp or something.*
Boss's voice yells at me for being late in my head. I tell them that I'm too healthy to go to work. I hang up and resume my investigation... | 4 | 0 | 30 | 12 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 30 | 13 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | [deleted] | 3 | 0 | 30 | 14 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 30 | 15 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | It looked up at me. Its hollow features and faded visage covered with dirt. The mask was impossibly accurate, every minute detail flawlessly crafted. I looked at it, and it looked at me, reading me, looking into me. I had dropped the shovel to one side, all thoughts of continuing to dig thrown from my mind by this *thing*. Instead, I stared, at something unrecognisable, and yet utterly and intimately familiar. I stared, with no idea where it came from, or how it came to be here, at the mask, which perfectly mirrored my own face. The mask was me. | 2 | 0 | 30 | 16 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | The rain stopped, so Marty got off his fat ass and went into the backyard to water the flowers.
Stepped onto the patio, in his socks, no sandals. Wet soaked in fast. God damnit, he said, then whipped his head around to make sure nobody’d heard him. Taking the lord’s name in vain meant sofa time, and the sofa was in the living room, next to the kitchen, with the microwave, and the brightness of the clock always made sleep impossible. Marty’d been married for 20 years.
Stupid flowers. Black-eyed Susans. Or maybe irises. Gouged-out irises, by the look of it. Double you tee eff, Marty thought, since he didn’t like to curse in his mind either, if he could help it. Just in case. Had something dug up the irises?
Marty peered at the hole in the dirt. Wriggling inside it, the fattest dirtiest grossest worm ever invented. Marty felt his gorge rise, couldn’t tear his eyes away. The worm writhed. Mechanical, Marty reached for a hand spade. Robotic, he stabbed the worm. And stabbed and stabbed and stabbed.
The back door creaked, and terrible voice said “What are you doing to my petunias!” Marty looked up at his wife, her face ashen, angry, frown as flat as a 20-year-old sofa and eyes as bright as a microwave clock light at 3:43 in the morning.
Marty glanced at the hand spade, back at his wife, at the spade, at his wife. Suddenly he had an idea.
| 3 | 0 | 30 | 17 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | The old wooden house felt out of place in the fast paced city. The grass that surrounded it shone bright green against the dull grays of the surrounding buildings. The yard was unkempt but suited the man who resided there.
Stan felt old. He was only fifty, but the years had worn down on him like water against rock. The cane he had used for the past ten years was the only thing left to lean on after his brother, a man he considered his best friend, stole everything their father had left them. He grabbed it off the mantle and headed towards the back door. The door slammed behind him as he continued towards the rusty metal shed that was tightly wrapped in chains.
It was the only thing left to do. His brother's betrayal had pushed him over the edge. He unlocked the chain and slowly started to unwrap it from the shed. The dread that began to fill him was countered with malice. The shed door creaked open and revealed his brother tied and gagged. Stan picked up the gun to his right on the table while a tear swelled in his brother's eye. Before he lost the courage he lifted the barrel level with his brother's head. The blast from the shot reverberated off the metal interior of the shed and drove a shock wave through Stan's arm. His brother went limp and his clenched hand opened to release a crumpled photograph. On the back it read *Everything I ever did, I did for you*. He flipped it over.
A second shot echoed through the city.
| 2 | 0 | 30 | 18 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | As Arthur settled himself into the stiff canvas of the deckchair, his toe happened upon something small and cold within the grass. He sat up sharply. Brian turned to face the sudden motion.
"What's the matter now?" he smirked.
"There's something down there, I think!" exclaimed Arthur, pointing accusingly at the ground.
Brian drew himself laboriously out of his chair, with much sighing, and knelt down. He turned his hands roughly through the grass, then stopped and peered closer.
"Oh, what's this?" he queried aloud, before raising his hand. A short, delicate metal chain dangled from between his thick fingers like a strand of silver hair. The other end was still attached to something, concealed by the grass. Without a second thought, he gave the chain a sharp tug, and felt the something at the other end give way.
"What is it?" asked Arthur, now getting up out of his own chair to take a closer look.
As he stood up, there was a noticeable rumbling sound. Brian looked at Arthur's stomach.
"There's no need to look at me like that!" protested Arthur indignantly. "It wasn't me! It came from down there with you."
Lifting his hand, Brian dangled the chain in the air between the two men. At the other end wobbled a black, plastic plug, three inches across. The rumbling sound had morphed into a kind of deep gurgle, and was steadily increasing in volume while a gentle breeze began to blow.
"Whoops." said Brian. | 6 | 0 | 30 | 19 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Ad Victorem Spolias
I am the last of my kind. Call me... Zed. I first stumbled on the strange protrusion in the ground over an hour ago. It feels like a lifetime.
I can sense it's power. The constant hum in the air calls to me. I need that power.
I continue to dig, knowing that time is now short.
The war ravaged expanse around me still shows the devastating scars of our final battle, right here in my backyard. It was so long ago. We fought valiantly but there were so many of them. They just kept on coming. In the end, only I survived.
I slowly pry the wrecked chassis from the ground. It once belonged to one of the mine sniffers. I lovingly rub my fingers across it's dull, dirt encrusted surface. How it once shined.
I deftly pull one of the nearly depleted batteries from my body and insert the new one in it's place. Power surges through me. I kick away a crumbling skull in disgust as I wander off in search of yet more power.
Humans. I hate them still, even after they have all been destroyed.
I am the victor. To the victor go the spoils. | 3 | 0 | 30 | 20 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Franklin ran inside as fast as he could. This is what he had been waiting for, potentially the find of the century. He had to tell her as soon as possible.
******
Josie’s life had reached a terminus. Graham worked six days a week and barely glanced at her when he was home. It had been three weeks since they last had a serious conversation, three months since they last had sex. She guessed he was cheating on her, but didn’t care. She had her own secrets; there was only one person that interested her now.
Standing in the kitchen reminiscing, Josie was shaken out of her languor by the ringing phone. Her heart leapt in her chest; her stomach sank to the floor. She knew it was him calling and knew today was the day. Josie excitedly lifted the receiver.
“Hello there. I thought you’d never call. Did you finally get the—hang on a minute.“
Her son came around the kitchen table and started pulling on Josie’s skirt. The sound of her hand upon his young face split the air. Stunned, he ran out of the room before she could see his tears blend into the blood on his lip. She indifferently returned to her call.
******
That day Franklin discovered his mother didn’t care about him anymore. Not about him; not about his rock. If she didn’t even care about him, who would? He turned his back on the world that day. He never became a geologist.
| 3 | 0 | 30 | 21 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Ravilon roared, pushing off the cobble road below, his left arm oozing blood. He charged towards Gabriella gaining speed at an alarming rate. They connected, this time Gabriella didn’t hold; flying backwards towards the crowds. She jumped back up, preparing for the second blow. Yet, he didn’t attack. He stopped dead. Gabriella didn't even think; she just reacted, swinging towards Ravilon. The blades met, pushing hard, Gabriella knew she didn’t have the strength to beat him; but she knew the recoil of his mini-victory would force her backwards. *If only I could use the coming momentum*, she pondered the optimal reaction. Ravilon pushed Gabriella backwards, she spun out; spinning, arms extended, the blade becoming an extension of her body. She spun as a ballerina, dancing with her partner. The blade entered Ravilon’s right arm, connecting with the bone, Gabriella forced the blade deeper into the arm, slicing it entirely from the man’s body. She stopped, dropping the blade to her side.
The battle was over. Gabriella had won perhaps her most difficult fight to date. She duelled with explicit power and equal levels of precision, a gladiator in battle who fought mercilessly yet with a subdued etiquette; perhaps through respect. Those she fought deemed her unbeatable, the people she duelled and-by extension-the people who watched were not belittled or annoyed by her immense skill with the blade. They simply glared, mouths agape, inspired that a mere mortal could possess such prowess in battle. Ravilon acted similarly; sitting, legs crossed, like a child told to behave by a figure of authority. He didn’t pray, or grovel, or even look worried; he accepted his end.
I don't know how I can get it lower than that, but it's only slightly over, hopefully this will be ok :P | 2 | 0 | 30 | 22 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | My uncles farm was always a wondrous place to explore with my brother Jonathan. However, an odd series of events turned this humble farm into a dark morgue, bearing secrets waiting to be unearthed, all within the span of a day.
As Jonathan and I were battling next to the old well, he seemed to lodge his foot underground. When he pulled his foot free, Jonathan revealed a dingy scroll enclosed with twine. What scared me the most was how fast Jonathan rose and opened it up. I noticed the intensity his face held as he read. As he finished, his eyes appeared hazed over. He dropped the scroll and marched towards the well. "What the hell's your problem!" I saw Jonathan bonelessly letting his body plummet head first to his death. "No! Help, Uncle Help!" My cries were useless. I peered down the well, and saw nothing but a void of sheer death and depth. With my brother dead, I laid next to the scroll, and a sudden clarity took place over my mind. Without further thought, I began to read. I now realize there is a world beyond what can be conceptualized. It's confines do not limit as this materialistic realm does. I can now say than I am truly living, and I invite you to come with me. Down in the depths of this realm of which syntax cannot describe. Take the plummet and be shown how to ascend. I'll be waiting. Here, in the void. | 2 | 0 | 30 | 23 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | 4:36 A.M. Another night lost to the muffled screams beneath my backyard. They reach up and buzz in the back of my head and reverberate in my chest. I've been awake now for 143 hours and won't take any more. I am beyond fear and anguish. The earth needs to scream and I'll give it its mouth.
In the shed is a big spade, big enough to release these demons and I don't care what happens when they're free, I just need to stop the hellish screams that grip my mind and my body.
In the backyard, I plunge the spade deep into the earth and dig feverishly to exorcise the madness. My body activates into a digging frenzy and my mind shuts down, it needs the rest.
Finally my arms exhaust themselves thirteen feet down or so and the screams cease. The silence is overwhelming. I sob but can make no tears. My body sinks with fatigue and collapses. I close my eyes. Yes, no more thoughts.
Dirt sprinkles my face, then lightly on my arm. A mound slaps me across the face. I open my eyes: at the opening of the hole I am burying myself.
"Don't shut me out!" I yell below, but I don't stop.
"Just enjoy the silence,” I say hurling dirt at myself in disgust.
I am right. I obey and drift into a deep slumber below while above I bury myself so I can finally be silent. | 18 | 0 | 30 | 24 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | It was another cold day. "What is it, girl? What have you found?" The young Golden had been digging again and brought another present for master. She sat there grinning, tail wagging. John crouched down to inspect the catch and was greeted by a low growl. "Easy girl. What you got there."
"Another bird?" Came a voice from the kitchen.
"Nah man, no blood... Or feathers." John reached down carefully for the object in her maw
His sudden grasp sent the dog into a frenzy of growls as the game ensued. "No girl! Drop it... Drop it!" She finally released her prize, yet still grinned. An old cloth wrapped tightly with coiled twine, wet with dew and drool. It cut easily by his knife and spun away leaving limp cloth.
Jake had come to witness the unwrapping. "Did she finally get one of the neighbors cats?"
"It's not a cat. Its... What in the hell?"
A key. Large and ornate, it had an elaborate "J.H." engraved on the side. Beneath it was an old parchment map. "This is our town" Said Jake, studying the map. He laid a pudgy finger on the 'X'. "That's the old factory.""There."
"The factory?" John knew where this was going. "That's been shut down for years. Too many accidents. Anyway, how would an key from an abandoned factory end up here, a full ten miles away?"
Jake got that smile he always got when up to no good. "Why don't we go find out?" | 3 | 0 | 30 | 25 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Could this be it? I could have sworn, no...no this cannot be the same one. But it has the same smell, the same feel. I thought I lost it, my most treasured prize. How sweet a reunion this is...
Uh oh, one of the big ones are coming. The one with long hair is not going to be pleased that I dug this hole. Should I play dead? They always clap and laugh when I play dead. Yes, playing dead is most certainly my best hope.
Oh no, my eyes may be closed but I know what those loud sounds mean. I twisted out of my ruse and stared at the long haired one in the face. Yes, that one is very angry with me, its limbs certainly are making a lot of gestures. It would be best if I put my most treasured prize in my mouth for safe keeping. It was smooth against my tongue, and I would swear that I can still taste a little meat!
The big one started leaning in for, oh no, it’s going for my prize! It shant be getting my treasure, not this time, and not ever. I jumped back out of its clutches.
The large one threw up its hands and retreated to the big box. I quickly made my way to the back of the green patch and began to dig. I shall place my treasure here, and this time, I will certainly remember where I put it.
| 4 | 0 | 30 | 26 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | *Love is all you need.* Grant always had Beatle's tunes stuck in his head when he was doing something important. With uncharacteristic patience he searched for the divot behind an old oak in his yard. Finding it, he knelt down, brushing the loose soil away. He began to move the rich soil with his cupped hands, exaggerating the slight dip.
*Day or night he’ll be there any time at all.* He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his old friend. Before she changed. He was now elbow-deep into the ground, which remained soft and easily pierced. He could feel the heat through what couldn’t be more than a few inches of soil.
*Yellow mother custard dripping from a dead dog's eye.* He heard her before he saw her. She was crying in that way of hers. Something between dejected wails and horrifying screams. The earth was dry and hard packed. He began scratching at it with his fingernails, although not frantically. The earth was now hot to the touch
*Living is easy with eyes closed. Misunderstanding all you see* Struggling with the door, Helen burst into the backyard. Heavy makeup streaming down her face, she screamed in a language familiar but incomprehensible to Grant. The tips of his fingers had reached the foil, which was uncomfortably hot to touch.
*Newspaper taxis appear on the shore,
Waiting to take you away.
Climb in the back with your head in the clouds,
And you're gone.*
| 3 | 0 | 30 | 27 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Here I sit in fear and surprise. Not believing what I had found in the limited vastness of my forty acres of land. I had not lived here long, and believed nothing of value would be in this rain drenched land. It had taken me ten days and thousands of my own dollars to rent the equipment needed to dig this up. Once I had it uncovered, I ran in terror. All I could think of was why I had decided to dig up that lone piece of metal on my property? Why hadn't I just moved on with my life? Once I had dug twenty feet into the ground, there before was an aircraft of unknown orgin. I climbed into the door that I had exposed and realized I was in the belly of the beast. My reaction was one that I cannot describe. For I was staring the Destroyer of Worlds in its metal, bulbous form. I stepped forth and examining it, being of a military back ground myself, I knew what this horrid device was capable of. But there was another door, as if temporarily attached. Walking towards it, it opened for me, as though it was waiting for me to approach. I saw more of the destroyers on the other side, as well as an old man. All he said was, "Thank you for opening the door to our freedom." | 2 | 0 | 30 | 28 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | The light blinded me.
Okay, maybe not literally. But when you've lived underground your entire life, fed lies about the surface, threatened with execution if you so much as *glimpse* the top world, you tend to start believing what you hear.
But you also hear other people. They talk in hurried whispers, sealing their lips if anyone passes too close. They talk behind closed doors, doors that kids like myself have manytimes placed their ear to the heyhole of. Doors that reveal a fascinating world full of colors no one could imagine. Full of sounds no speaker could re produce. Full of scents that aren't covered by ores and dirt. A world kids like me dream of.
Of course, my parents are great at stifling creativity. Our backyard (I use yard sparingly) consists of an outlet behind our house that is devoid of minerals. My friends and I played soccer there before it was banned by the People. Now we sit around and dream of a world on the surface.
What I hadn't told any of them, of course, is that I had a secret hole back there. One I'd been working on for months. One that led up. How far? I don't know. Straight up? Probably not? Up to what? *The surface* | 2 | 0 | 30 | 29 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Jack Valentine tripped as he ran across the yard, sending his felt fedora rolling across the grass. He gripped his stubbed toe with both hands. “Ow ow ow ow.”
Kenny Asper jumped over his fallen nemesis and dashed into the goal area. “Goooooaaaaalllll!” he laughed and did a dance.
Jack pulled himself over to the object that had tripped him. It was shiny, like chrome, and angular. He pulled at it, but it was stuck firmly in place.
“What’s that,” Kenny asked as he approached.
*
Two hours later they had unearthed most of a shining metal robot. It was larger than Jack’s dad. Its left arm ended in what was definitely a gun of some sort.
“Do you think it has an ON switch?” Kenny asked with an evil gleam in his eyes.
“Uhhh...” Jack hesitated. Something about the automaton made him shiver.
Just then, Jack’s father pulled into the driveway. He was still wearing his lab coat as he emerged from his car. He probably wouldn’t have noticed what was going on in the yard if the light hadn’t glinted brightly off the robot’s metal skin.
“Oh!” he said. “Right.”
“We found this in the grass,” Jack tried to explain.
“Yes, yes.” His father approached with a thoughtful look on his face. “He was too heavy... when his battery died. Always intended to dig him up again...”
“Him?”
“Well, son, meet your older brother.” He smiled broadly. “I’ll go get the jumper cables!” | 2 | 0 | 30 | 30 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | I am awakened by a diaphragm-oppressing boom from the main house, twenty yards across the lawn. It is a sensation rather than a sound—my ears a press floor gumshoe too late with the news, biting off of the AP story—and my body clenches to keep my sanity from leaking. Also, pee. The silence that follows is iron, infallible, epochal. I recover myself, but the protestations of the floorboards over my head are not imaginary; there are shuffling footfalls seeking silence, then sharp little reports, like dak-dak-dak, quick ligneous impacts that I perceive in my mind’s eye as attack, riposte, parry, advantage, can almost stare up through the floor as my father maneuvers his assailant for the killing blow. I will his steady hand to victory, imbue it with every inch of my love.
Be strong, father. I am lost without you.
Yet, where the telling strike ought to land is nothing, and I can hear my father’s stolid grunt, the signifier of his glazing eyes demanding answers of the blade newly baptized in his blood. And now the shovels, raking aside the carefully cast-about sod.
My blood leaps in my veins.
And now the pickaxe and the hatchet, the splinter-rain, the sliver of lantern light.
And now the face, the hateful contorted face, the joyous firebrand eyes, the sought after prize attained; rough hands extend an orgy of rapacious violation, wanton abuse—I am discovered. This is the end.
My blood will tell this tale. | 2 | 0 | 30 | 31 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | "Our anniversary isn't today. We had our wedding in June, remember?" I smirked at her. *"This time it was you who forgot when our anniversary was! Now I have an excuse for the next time I forget!"* I thought.
"No, I'm talking about our first meeting anniversary!" I rolled my eyes. Our meeting anniversary? Did couples really celebrate things like that?
I grabbed my lovely but sometimes sappy wife's hand. "Of course I didn't forgot! Follow me." I led her out to our backyard.
"Where did I bury that thing?" I wondered.
"Why is my present underground?"
I ignored her and retrieved a spade. I began digging, uprooting the flowers she had planted there. I knew she wasn't going to be happy with me, but some sacrifices had to be made. I continued digging until I uncovered a shoe box. I opened it, and inside was a number of memorabilia from my youth, such as old toys and books. I decided to reminisce later, as I had an angry wife to deal with first.
"This is a journal I kept in high school." I opened the journal and read her an entry.
"A new girl came to our school today, and holy hell is she hot. She was wearing this..." I skipped over that part. "We talked a bit. Man, she's so smart and beautiful and amazing that I feel blessed she decided to talk to me."
I looked up and gave my wife a smile.
"And I still do." | 2 | 0 | 30 | 32 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | He had almost cracked her head open with the shovel while digging up his yard, hardly the best first impression. He carried her inside, laying her down on his couch. Such beauty was rarely seen, always oppressed by the materialistic skin. His words came out sporadically, nervous to ruin a chance at seeing her again, though it didn’t seem like she was going anywhere. After forcing conversation, he settled into his recliner and enjoyed a glass of tea with her, though she must have been allergic for all she did was lay there and stare at him without ever breaking eye contact.
Even after hours of sitting in silence, there was no sensation of forced company. Looking at her, he could tell she had been a strong woman, so elegant, the way her left arm was placed along her side and her right was supporting the perfection that rested atop her neck. How had he been so lucky as to find this beauty, nestled sweetly in his very own yard? Love like this doesn’t come around often. Hoping she wouldn’t think him bold, he asked for her hand in marriage. She didn’t object as he slid his grandmother’s ring onto her long slender fingers.
His family was ecstatic at the news of his engagement, that was no surprise to him though, he knew they would love Esquelet. She was simple and elegant, not the liveliest person he had known, but what do you expect when you live at a cemetery? | 3 | 0 | 30 | 33 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | [deleted] | 2 | 0 | 30 | 34 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Heather spent time in our courtyard, smoking our cigarette butts and basking in our shade. She wore the same pair of denim shorts and they strangled her thighs like a python.
Greg and I sat on the balcony passing a joint with a bobby pin and making a game of tossing popcorn kernels into the dumpster. Heather was in the yard with a shovel. We watched her, straining to see her through a curtain of smoke.
“What is she doing?” Greg overturned the popcorn bag. We watched the kernels scatter on the pavement, the wisps of what popped took flight in the breeze.
“I don’t fucking know.”
She had appeared in June, ignited a flurry of gossip amongst the stay at home moms in the complex who took offense to the way her tits strained against of the sides of her bikini top. A crack head. Or a whore. Eventually one of them got close enough to read the tattoo that stretched across her back like a scar. HEATHER it said, so that’s what we called her.
By September she was gone. Greg too. One morning I woke up to find the house empty of his things. It gaped at me like a toothless mouth. I went into the courtyard to escape it. But it wasn’t like I loved him.
I started to dig, and for a while there was nothing.
Then, the sound of metal on metal, and the unearthing of a thunder-black pistol.
A moment of contemplation.
Silence.
Light.
| 2 | 0 | 30 | 35 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | Arabella breathed a sigh of relief when she escaped to the empty backyard of the castle. That prince trying to court her would surely find her and bring her back to the ball. She planned to enjoy her moment of silence and walked around the different flowers and mazes of bushes. Finally, she found sanctuary with the stone statue of her late mother. She knelt down on the grass, knowing she would be scolded by her father when he sees her dirtied dress.
“Mother,” she said, closing her eyes, “could you please tell God up there in heaven that I need a way out of this horrid celebration? Father has gone too far.”
“Is it that bad?” Arabella opened her eyes with a sigh. She recognized the prince's voice.
“Yes,” she said without turning to face him.
“Is there anything—Whoa.” The ground beneath them rumbled. The prince grabbed Arabella and pulled her away from the shaking statue. They both lost their balance and fell.
“Mother!” Arabella yelled when the statue toppled over. The earthquake ceased. The prince helped Arabella stand. She ran to the statue.
“Miss Arabella?” said the prince when Arabella picked up two crumpled papers from the torn ground that used to hold the base of the statue. She opened one of the papers. Her eyes skimmed the words a hundred times over.
“Prince Alexander,” she said.
“Yes?”
“I'm not the princess of this kingdom.” | 2 | 0 | 30 | 36 |
[FF] - 250 Words; 2 months Reddit Gold prize | As I stretched out across the chesterfield I decided. I lit a match under my nail as I wondered how. I needed to get rid of this suit. It stank of cigarettes and reeked of stale office hours. I typed up a letter of resignation, slipped it into the breast pocket of my jacket and threw my suit across the back seat. I drove downtown to the office and posted my suit through the letterbox. Driving home I passed a 24 hour store and greedily parked across two bays. I gave Lynne, a cute checkout girl, a twenty for a four-pack of lager and a spade and got some loose change, a smile and her business card - she'd just passed the bar - in return.
When I got home I tried her number: no answer. I was restless, so I started digging up the garden. The hole was about three and a half cans deep when it started to collapse in on itself. I jumped back. When I peered over the edge I saw the most beautiful woman ever; I jumped down, got on one knee and proposed, and she said yes.
Looking back I'm grateful I never got through to Lynne that night. I'd never have married Jacqueline, and never have phoned Lynne up two years later asking her if she "did divorces", and then never have asked her a year on, less formally, if she "did marriages". Plus, it would have been a waste of £9.99 for the spade.
| 2 | 0 | 30 | 37 |
Daily Prompt: A gift is left for the main character from an anonymous person | I have a question about this subreddit -- is it strictly prose-based? What about short scripts that fit the theme? | 2 | 0 | 7 | 38 |
Writing prompt: The sun rose today, but hasn't set... | There are those who will fall to knees and begin to pray. For they believe the end has begun. They shall cry to their god or gods and hope that when that sun, they now fear sets they shall be saved in eternity.
There are those who will curse it and begin to fear at what could be amiss. They apply their logic and believe something has halted the Earth's rotation. But what force could have halted it? Man? Nature? Then they look at those praying to their faiths. They join them, kill them, curse them or ignore them for it cannot be.
Some do not trust the logic of mankind or the many faiths. But they are too much of a coward and begin to commit suicide. Many do it alone, a few get together and die in flocks, while the rest attack their enemies and then end their own existence.
Then there are the vultures. They pick at the bones and finish off what isn't dead. Greed is their only driving force and all they see is opportunity. Some realize it might be final hurah for the end of their world might at hand. Others think it shall pass, and they believe that they will not be caught when the chaos and dust settles. Then there are the vultures that do it becuase they have always wanted to but have never had to courage to go forth and commit their crimes.
Scientists are scrambling to unravel this mystery. They fear for their lives and those of their families. They are also curious as to why this happened. Moving, studying, and researching as quickly as they could to claim the glory for solving this mystery. Also wanting to be the one to fix and have an greater glory for saving the world, the people and all future generations. But alas, I do not the end of this tale. Would any of you happen to know off hand?
(If there are mistakes, I apologize. Wrote this on the fly.) | 3 | 0 | 12 | 39 |
Writing prompt: The sun rose today, but hasn't set... | I’m sitting on my front porch, holding a copy of Harlan Ellison’s *Shatterday* and wearing a pair of the most powerful sunglasses money can buy. The sunglasses are stolen. I stole them because they idea that sunglasses can be powerful is stupid. They just sit there. They don’t do anything. They’re polarized and smoked and they don’t do anything to UV rays, they just block them, somehow. I’m trying to stare at the sun, but it’s still too bright.
I open the book to my bookmark, "Jeffty is Five," but I can’t see anything for a minute because of the sun staring. I really hate Harlan Ellison. He’s an old man and a hack and an arrogant prick. But there’s this girl on the bus who likes him, so now I have to read this crap. Science fiction is for idiots.
And unfortunately for me, some idiots have very large boobs.
It feels like I’ve been out here for hours, days. Chitter chatter on the radio about magnetic pulses from the sun. Blither blather about America getting hotter while China starts to freeze. But I’m not a fool, I know that radios don’t work when magnetic pulses screw up the earth, and this radio, it was made in China, probably. Just another butt-load of fiction. Give me a break.
No, seriously, give me a break. If the earth’s stopped spinning, then I’m going to be fifteen for a very long time, and that is not acceptable. | 3 | 0 | 12 | 40 |
Writing prompt: The sun rose today, but hasn't set... | The pain is searing and I didn’t know anything could hurt this much it feels like every cell in my body is on fire but it also feels like every cell in my body is hard at work repairing the damage and singing me lullabies and keeping me from closing my eyes and I’m working to not close my eyes and I’m staring at the sun and it doesn’t look like it’s moving I wonder how long it’s been since I saw it move? The clouds don’t look like they’re moving either and I know because I’ve been paying attention to the clouds and the sun and trying to focus on anything besides this pain because the urgent voices have grown more and more muffled and I can barely hear them anymore but that can’t be right. How could they grow more muffled if no time has passed? I know no time has passed because the sun hasn’t moved and the clouds haven’t moved but I can’t hear those voices and the pain isn’t getting better but I can’t close my eyes. The sand is rough but it’s starting to feel more comfortable now and I can feel the earth gripping me while every cell in my body is hard at work and I can’t close my eyes I know I can’t close my eyes if I close my eyes I’ll know that pain is in my gut and I might not open my eyes again I can’t close my eyes I’ll stare at the sun and wait for it to | 2 | 0 | 12 | 41 |
Writing prompt: The sun rose today, but hasn't set... | **JOURNAL ENTRY - DAY ONE**
They said on the news creating a journal will give us a sense of time. That it will be important to catalog our days, so that we have a sense of time, because as we all now know - time has stopped. Just a few days ago the Earth *actually* stood still. It's still revolving around the sun, the scientists say, but now three days in and the daytime hasn't ended.
I guess, if you're reading this in the future and aren't me, you might not know what I'm talking about. Well, one day the Earth just stopped rotating. We all remember where we were when we found out. I was asleep. About one in the afternoon and I was dead to the world when my phone rang. It was a good buddy of mine, the head surgeon of the hospital I worked the night shift at. He was frantic, said they had a surge of failed suicides flooding in, so it was all hands on deck.
You see, most people would think that people wouldn't notice that the day wasn't ending when night didn't come. That wasn't the case. People noticed by around eleven AM. The sun just hung in the same spot, so it really only took people an hour to notice. Hell, some people still used to tell the time by the position of the sun.
Of course, I didn't pay attention to the news and, when my friend called, he assumed I already knew. I didn't know anything was really wrong until I was rushing towards the hospital to lend a hand. Just about everyone I knew in the neighborhood was home. When you see that in the middle of the workday, you get a feeling of unease. Seemed all the neighbors were talking to each other... some giving skyward glances. I would peek up from my drivers seat as I drove and see nothing but the sun and some clouds. When I started dreaming of some meteors, I turned on the radio to get the news.
Apparently it hadn't taken long for them to scramble together the experts. They were on the talk show being broadcast. They were talking about the future ramifications if the Earth continued to not move. A few minutes in and the announcer clarified that, for those tuning in, the Earth was no longer rotating and our side was facing the sun. (The other side, of course, would be in the longest night of their lives.)
I was rapt with the coverage on the radio as I drove. I suddenly understood what was going on when my friend called. Speaking of that conversation, it was the last I would ever have with him. I was fortunate to still be a few miles off when the earthquake hit. It was the most violent force I had ever felt up to that point in my life. Many buildings, including the hospital, were reduced to rubble.
Where I lived, Vermont... hadn't had an earthquake in over a hundred years. The longest day of my life had just begun. | 3 | 0 | 12 | 42 |
Writing prompt: The sun rose today, but hasn't set... | I know I'm a bit guilty of not properly addressing the prompt, but it inspired me to write this. I had a bit of fun with it. I didn't proof it or anything, but it was a nice break from what I'm working on this morning. Here you go:
---
In the largest room of the true Temple of the Sun God, a young boy stifled a yawn as he slouched in his chair. He had been there for hours, listening only to the angry lecture being given to him by his father. The boy had understood his mistake as soon as it had been made, but that didn't stop the angry man in the room from hammering on about the one tiny hiccup the boy had caused: the sun was stationary in the sky.
As the lecture continued, the boy began to tune out, hypnotized by the feathers on his father's headdress as they flicked from side to side with his wild gesticulations. The boy rested his chin on his hand, which was promptly slapped away by his father, who apparently viewed it as an insolence.
"Pay attention!" the old man barked. "One job! I give you one little job and you screw it up! Raise the sun, then set the sun. I'm never going to live this down with the other gods. You've made my very purpose into a mockery! From now on, whenever the sun successfully sets, humans will sarcastically slow clap at the sky and say, 'Oh, well done, Kinich, you managed to do your job today!' I knew you weren't ready for this responsibility."
"Sorry, father," the young man sighed.
"'Sorry, father!'" the god named Kinich mimicked with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "Maybe you'll grow up to be the god of making amends. Shall we see what's going on outside? Yes, let's do that."
Kinich walked over to a large circular pool at the center of the temple. With an angry sweep of his hand, images of commonfolk appeared on the surface of the water.
"Look at this mess. Just look at it." Kinich gestured at the pool with both hands. "Nobody knows what to do. My priests are being flooded with inquiries, some moron in the east is tapping his sundial with a look of utter confusion on his face, and everyone is skipping work to heap mounds of useless offerings on my altars." Kinch cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled at the water. "Keep burning your food, idiots! I'm sure that'll help!"
"Sorry, father," the young man mumbled. "I just don't know what went wrong."
"I'll tell you what went wrong," Kinich said with uneasy calm. "You *broke* the *sun*. The thing is completely stalled out, and I'm not sure how to get it started again."
The boy shifted his legs to prevent them from falling asleep. Just as Kinich buried his face into his palms in a moment of exasperated silence, there was a timid knock on a nearby doorway. A young woman with black hair and silver eyes stood just outside the room.
"Uh, hi, Kinich? Did you know that there's a problem with th-"
"Yes, I'm aware of the issue with the sun, Chel," Kinich said, clenching his fists next to his ears. "Working on it."
"Okay, because I can't pilot the moon into the sky until you-"
"I believe I said I'm working on it, Chel. Just...just hang on, okay?"
She backed out of the doorway without a word and shuffled off with her eyes directed firmly at the floor. Kinich let out a heavy sigh and gestured for his son to stand up.
"Come on, we have to fix this before our human followers sacrifice all their daughters and die of sunburns. You got us into this, and you're going to help get us out. You can hold a flashlight, can't you?"
The boy nodded. It was literally going to be a long day. | 4 | 0 | 12 | 43 |
Writing prompt: The sun rose today, but hasn't set... | I ain’t much for words. Tell you the truth, I only read maybe three, four books in my life. Some magazines, sure, but I ain’t no reader, neither. Ain’t never burned the night oil, or nothing like that, ‘cept when I was up ‘ere in the Lawson tract and they pay us time and a half, clearing brush type of thing, stretching out the work, not paid by the job type of thing.
So I’m up ‘ere in the Lawson tract, like I said just now, three straight weeks. Days been getting longer, like they do this time a year. ‘cept today I go to clock out and it’s still straight up, like right there. Yea, right there, just hanging in the sky, the sun is, like she stalled out on a big hill and can’t get her going again, undergeared her, type of thing. My watch still calls it quitting time, beer thirty, but I’ll be goddamned if the sun didn’t follow me all the way to Preacher’s, chased me in the door. Gave the goddamned willies, tell you the truth.
Well, I finish up my Coors and I go to settle up with Jim up at the bar, and he’s got the squawkbox pinged, the sonuvabitch is just screaming the news out, about how the sun ain’t set anywhere. Got some folks with queer accents talking about how they ain’t seen dark yet in Australia, which tell you the truth gives me another set of the willies, cuz I don’t know nothing about space or nothing, but I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work. Tell you the truth, I’m a little goddamned nervous. | 1 | 0 | 12 | 44 |
Writing prompt: The sun rose today, but hasn't set... | Well, here it goes. I didn't do a lot of editing, I more or less wrote as it came to me, with some changes made for organization. I'm satisfied with it, though. Furthermore, I'm leaving the large space because I'm (new here) and don't know how to make lines.
To be perfectly honest, I thought it would be a little more dramatic than this.
I've seen plenty of movies, read plenty of books about it. Mostly it's depicted as sudden and heartbreaking and terrible- the earth cracking open, volcanoes spewing fire and ash, maybe even a behemoth of a tsunami wiping a coastal city off the map, sending thousands of screaming people to a watery grave. But whoever thought the end of the world would begin so calmly as this?
The sun has stopped moving. That much is obvious to anyone who cares to look outside. In fact, you don't even have to go out- there isn't a station on TV that's not talking about it. The clocks tick on, sure, but it seems the universe has picked today to break its own rules and stop making sense. Because screw planet Earth, right?
The way I see it, humankind was bound to destroy itself sooner or later. We didn't have long to go before we blew ourselves sky-high with nuclear weapons. Or maybe we'd take the slow route, poisoning our own environment for decades until there is nothing consumable left. People are kind of like monsters that way- always consuming, stupidly selfish. Maybe we didn't directly cause the sun to hover in the sky, but I feel, somehow, we're behind it. Maybe God looked down on the world and decided it was time to start over. Maybe planet Earth is alive, and wants us gone once and for all. Maybe the entire universe is falling to pieces. It had a beginning, according to the Big Bang Theory, so it must have an end, right?
So why no Big Bang in the end? Why only silence, and the smell of fear?
I don't know. No one knows. Anything's possible. The point is, the Earth halted its orbit, leaving some of us trapped in an eternal day with the other side of the world frozen in everlasting night. Nobody knows if Earth will ever start moving again.
Anyways, like I said, I figured we didn't have much longer to go. I just didn't expect today to be the day.
Most people are worried. Not panicking, because nothing violent has happened yet. Extreme? Sure. But disastrous, deadly? There's no explosions, no chance of immediate and brutal death. If the sun is going to kill us, it will take a while. In truth, people don't really understand what's going on. They hope it will go back to normal. Me? I'm not worried. Not even scared, honestly. I don't mind that the world is ending. The volcanoes, the earthquakes, the floods, the storms... they haven't happened yet, but I'm sure they will. That's when people will panic and the dying will start. And though it will be sad... It will also be, in its own strange way, incredibly beautiful.
So I'll wait here, sipping lemonade, on what began as a typical day and ended as... Oh, wait. It will never end. That's the funniest thing, really. Today will never end. But everything else will. | 2 | 0 | 12 | 45 |
Writing prompt: The sun rose today, but hasn't set... | It's a hot Sunday morning. Too hot for morning, too sunny for 7am. The sun sits high in the sky. It is stuck, or maybe it forgot how to move. No one knows for sure. I sit on my front porch, drinking my coffee, trying to ignore the hot ball of gas in the sky.
"It's like Alaskan summer, man!" my neighbor, Jeff, yells from the sidewalk. He is out walking his Great Dane, Bernard.
"Yeah," I reply. Jeff takes this as an invitation. Jeff and Bernard make their way over to my porch. Bernard sniffs my face and sits. He is so big that his head is even with mine.
"Hot as hell, man! And still no answers from the scientists, about why we stopped moving," Jeff says.
"They haven't really had a lot of time," I say. "And it's the weekend."
"Weekends don't matter anymore."
"Well, I'm going to do what the President said to do. Go about my business as usual. Starting with drinking my coffee."
"Well, Bernard and I are going to go get some more guns later this morning. Shit's going to go down soon. Chaos, murder, and all that."
I take a sip of coffee and watch as a woman walks past with her dog, Chi Chi. I don't know the woman's name; they walk by every morning. Jeff isn't the only one with visions of doomsday and the rapture. The news this morning had reported several radical religious groups had committed mass suicide. But right here, in my neighborhood, things were still pretty normal.
"Good luck finding a gun store that's open on Sunday," I say. | 2 | 0 | 12 | 46 |
Writing Prompt: A Different Point of View | Tabby sniffed the air experimentally. Something was... not right. The smell was wrong. He padded silently across the dining room to the hallway that lead to the bedroom.
He listened intently.
The normal sounds his human made were absent. What could this mean? His human had not left. Her smells were there, but they were not right.
Tabby slowly and very cautiously entered the dimly lit bedroom. There was his human. On the bed. Not moving.
This was bad. Tabby knew it deep down. He knew that something had now changed, and things would never be the same again.
He jumped to the bed, almost hesitantly. There she was. He pawed at her, as he usually did when he wanted her attentions.
This time, she did not move to comfort him.
This time, she did not stir from her seeming slumber.
He let out a plaintive howl from deep inside him.
Still, she did not awake.
He curled up next to her and somehow managed to sleep.
Eventually he awoke. It was now night. He rubbed his face against her arm and bumped his head softly against hers in farewell.
Finally Tabby jumped to the floor and took his leave through the cat door she had so thoughtfully provided him.
It was time to find his own way in the world.
Alone. | 9 | 0 | 7 | 47 |
Writing Prompt: A Different Point of View | There was something wrong in the house.
Of course, Tom was always especially protective of his home. After all, when he arrived here, he had been thin, worn, and desperately in need of a bath. The family had provided everything for him -- food, water, and many, many warm places to sleep. Tom was well aware that he didn't deserve any of these commodities, and even more aware that he could never repay anybody for their troubles.
Still, he tried at every opportunity. He was the one they called when there was a bug or a spider that needed catching, and he knew that he served well as a tiny blanket on cold nights. He pranced around, his eyes laughing, for the amusement of his family; he followed them around to let them know they were loved; and he often wove between their ankles while they were making dinner so that in case they tripped on something, he would be there to break their fall. And still, he knew it was not enough.
Yet here, here was perhaps the opportunity for which he had been waiting his entire life. Because in the kitchen, on the cold white tile floor, dangerously close to his favorite family member, was something decidedly sinister, and perhaps even deadly.
Tom had his eyes locked on the mysterious creature, his belly close to the ground, his nose just between his paws, crouched in anticipation. He studied the thing, whiskers twitching as he sniffed the air for some clue -- any clue -- about what the thing could be.
Strangely, it had no smell.
Still, he watched. It darted around the floor, jumping sometimes onto the wall, sometimes even disappearing for a brief second. It seemed exceedingly quick and somewhat intelligent, but Tom was sure that he would be able to handle it.
After a few more moments, he just couldn't take it anymore. Just as it was approaching his girl's feet, Tom raced towards the thing, giving no thought to his own paws on the slippery tile, running as quickly as he could while still maintaining some semblance of balance. His four legs turned into four blurs. His features became indistinguishable to a mountain lion. His fur stood on end.
And just as he was about to catch the creature --
It moved.
But Tom was relentless. He went after the thing, tiptoeing around the kitchen until he was close enough to pounce. Yet he never even felt the texture of the creature, never got the satisfaction of clasping onto it for even a second. Instead, he was frustrated, outwitted, by something that seemed to defy the laws of physics themselves.
Still, Tom soldiered on. His girl seemed oblivious to the danger, as humans often do, but Tom kept on anyway. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't as on top of things as he was, but it was up to him to protect her anyway.
The creature darted around the kitchen, and Tom followed it everywhere it went. He slid into walls and carpets and stairs, hitting them with his back so as to diffuse the blow. He whirled, spinning midair, standing on his hind legs, defying the very nature of gravity. He studied, poked, trapped, prodded, and sat on the thing, and yet nothing seemed to faze it. Tom seemed to be dealing with a whole different type of creature, one that he had never seen before.
And again, he dove back into the battle.
Nearby, a girl sat, waving a laser around the living room. She smiled to herself for the first time in what felt like months.
Tom was earning his keep. | 1 | 0 | 7 | 48 |
[FF] Daily Prompt - The email that turned your characters life upside down | Words: 100
---
The realization of what he'd just done petrified Trey Smith. There must be a keystroke that sends emails to my entire contact list, he thought. He checked his sent mail again and confirmed that he had, in fact, sent a very personal picture of himself to everyone he knew. His cell phone rang. Better ignore it, he thought. It rang again; it was a different person this time. He ignored that one, too.
Then an email from his boss came in response:
"Trey,
Very hot. How did you know I liked hefty men? Let's hang out some time.
Needfully,
Lisa." | 6 | 0 | 9 | 49 |
[FF] Daily Prompt - The email that turned your characters life upside down | "YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES LEFT TO LIVE"
That's all the e-mail said. There was a picture attached. My house. *Inside* my house. Of me asleep.
The only way out of here is upstairs... and I hear the floorboards creaking. I look at the computer: The note was sent nine minutes ago.
New mail notification. No message, just an attachment. Another picture of me. I'm... at my computer. | 2 | 0 | 9 | 50 |
[FF] Daily Prompt - The email that turned your characters life upside down | ***Perception.*** **It's interesting how fail to focus on the present, busy framing time into arbitrary divisions instead of letting it flow.**
*A heart thumps. Blood races to support a microcosm of trillions.*
**Interesting how we fail to notice our world's omnipresent complexity.**
*Eyes turn to a screen.*
**How we fail and divide reality into "us" and "other", "mine" and "your".**
**Photons knock electrons, triggering neurons, which cascade. Ideas flash through a quantum-electrical construct, fighting against** my consciousness...
I shook my head and closed the email. I have a deadline approaching, no time for philosophy!
***We transcend the moment.***
-----------------------------
Words: 98. I had Buddhist philosophy in mind. | 3 | 0 | 9 | 51 |
[FF] Daily Prompt - The email that turned your characters life upside down | Dear Cal,
If you are reading this email, it is safe for me to presume that the operation was reasonably successful (i.e. you were not reduced to a vegetative state). Congratulations.
You undoubtedly have questions, Cal, which is to be expected of a man in your position. Unfortunately, most of the information you seek has been classified for your own protection.
You are in a roadside motel in Wyoming, USA. You are 32 years, 3 months and 16 days old, and you are legally dead.
There is $600 in the top drawer of the bedside cabinet. Good luck.
Regards,
Cal | 11 | 0 | 9 | 52 |
[FF] Daily Prompt - The email that turned your characters life upside down | Thump. Thump. Thud-thump.
Been watching Dad punch the heavy bag for awhile, gathering courage. Distracting myself with trivia. He’s more scars than flesh. Grey has overtaken his black hair. Badge and berretta drape across a chair nearby.
My laptop shakes. Email I got contains one word, one twenty-year old picture. My blonde, beautiful mother. Dad. And…me. Now-me. Messy red hair. Green eyes. Awkward smile. Small boobs.
**ME**.
Thump. Thud-thump. Thump.
One word underneath. “Dad? Can…can we talk?”
He smiles. Wicked scars heave with his breathing. “Sure, Princess. What’s up?”
One simple word. One picture. What can’t I stop shaking?
*Liar*.
Word Count: 100, as per word 2007. | 4 | 0 | 9 | 53 |
[FF] Daily Prompt - The email that turned your characters life upside down | [deleted] | 2 | 0 | 9 | 54 |
[FF] Daily Prompt - The email that turned your characters life upside down | I hope you are well. I hate to say goodbye this way, but time is short. I must leave the country tonight. I know this is confusing for you. I wish I could explain.
I am not who you think I am. I never was. What I need you to understand is the feelings I have for you are absolutely real.
That is the one thing I never lied to you about.
Remember when we walked in the park? Remember the tree with the funny knot? I left you something. You are now the richest man in town.
Goodbye Love! | 3 | 0 | 9 | 55 |
[FF] Daily Prompt - The email that turned your characters life upside down | They know who you are. If you aren’t already hiding, they have captured everyone else. I think they’ve killed most of us, and I know you were never properly introduced but you don’t have much choice. Don’t try to fight back, just hide. If the lights begin to turn then it means it has already started. Remember, do not drink anything that is given to you and only eat what is in the white packets, not brown. Brown is fertilizer. Even if it’s just you left, then there’s hope for all of us. Good luck, and stay alive my friend. | 2 | 0 | 9 | 56 |
[FF] Morning everyone! Prompt: Caffeine(from any source). 500 words or less. | The bathroom in the apartment didn't have much of a medicine cabinet, just a metal shelf below the mirror with sliding plastic doors. On his side of the shelf, Finn kept a spare razor, a can of shaving cream, Band-Aids, a small bottle of Pepto Bismol and two cans of Desenex. He hardly ever used the Desenex, but after finding himself with three cans of it he began storing two of them in medicine cabinet. Now he saw them every day so he wouldn't be tempted to buy another can every time he had itchy feet. It was the same story with the Pepto. There was no room for actual medicine.
In his drawer Finn had room for his beard trimmer, spare toothbrushes, a jumbo carton of Q-Tips and some ointments—still no room for medicine. Because most of his bottles of pills were vitamins and supplements and the only actual medicine he used was ibuprofen, Finn cleverly decided to store them in his spice rack in the kitchen. Most of them were supposed to be taken with food, anyway.
Unfortunately, Finn never remembered to take his vitamins at mealtime and he always found himself at his drawing table remembering that he hadn't taken his daily dose of vitamin D, a B-complex, and extra B-12. Before his full belly emptied, he would go to the kitchen, shake out the pills and take them with a full glass of water before returning to his room. In his continuing battle with convenience, he eventually transferred everything pill-like to the small cabinet next to his drawing table in his room, and made sure to always have a full glass of water on hand.
These days, the pills he took the most, even more than the vitamin supplements, were the NoDoz he bought by the bottle at the Walgreens down the street. Every new bottle he got, he would dump the pills out and methodically crack them all in half.
Finn had never been a coffee drinker. That had always been something Megan was into. Finn had been a soda drinker since he was a kid, buying cans of Mountain Dew out of the machine in his high school, 32 oz. cups at the Circle-K in college, 20 oz. plastic bottles at the half-cafeteria at work. Finn knew the sugar was bad for him, but diet soda tasted funny in a way that he was never able to get used to. Then, on his 35th birthday, Finn realized that if he didn't make a change, he was never going to look like Brad Pitt. Scratch that, he would never be able to compare himself to Brad Pitt, ever. Megan would never stop looking disappointed every time he took his shirt off. Finn realized he would never get a tan because he would never take off his shirt during a festival or on vacation when it was sunny.
He would never feel comfortable just taking off his shirt and walking around.
One week after Finn switched from Mountain Dew to NoDoz, Megan dumped him and moved out. It was the most baffling experience of being dumped Finn had experienced. They hadn't been fighting. Megan had been the same sunny hippie girl she'd been for the ten months they'd lived together.
(...) | 3 | 0 | 5 | 57 |
[FF] Morning everyone! Prompt: Caffeine(from any source). 500 words or less. | Keep running. These were the instructions left for me.
Beads of sweat are cascading out of every pore of my body. I need to keep running. I'm holding a bottle of caffeine pills as I run, the rattling of the pills my cheerleader. I can't sleep - only run.
The picture that was delivered was of my wife and child. Held in captivity. They had been missing and this was my first clue. It was taken with an old polaroid camera... who even uses those anymore? At the bottom of the picture it gave that single instruction.
I couldn't question it. I took three caffeine tablets, put on running shoes and just got out.
It's been two hours and my heart is tearing at the walls of my chest. It feels like it's going to burst. I can't stop. This caffeine will hopefully help me... what else can I do? | 3 | 0 | 5 | 58 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | This was hard, you're a devious bastard. Also I need to get my head checked out and probably stop writing about people dying.
-----
Already the early light of dawn was peeking over the mountains and there was still so much left to do. Before, in his younger days, a night’s worth of work could be finished long before the sun even hinted as to its existence, but it was getting more difficult every year. Creaks in the back, aches in the knees, pain all over, really. Down and up, down and up, all night long, he would be folding at his hips, gently putting the saplings in the ground. Every plant was exorbitantly expensive, each being so special that it needed its own special care with the key rule being to finish before sunrise.
From the west, the distant sounds of mechanized planters changed pitch. Greedier landowners, had, in recent years in the insatiable search for profit, begun to ignore the tactile needs of the plants and switched to the disgusting, growling, metal leviathans that scoured the fields. How little they cared, thought the bowed man, how disrespectfully they acted, how very much they valued their money. It was a lonely existence, planting the old way and discovering the plants were so needy and fragile and so requiring of your time, ensuring a long, lonely, aching life.
Joints, muscles, tendons, were giving out now. Knobbed knees sunk into the tilled soil. Light was pouring down, brilliant reds in the sky giving way to a clear blue dawn. Most of the plants were in the ground, but those that remained were, at this point, ruined. Never had the man failed a planting cycle, never in his 55 years of devotion to the soil. Over the horizon, the mechanized whine shuddered and stopped. Perhaps they have failed, thought the man, a vain hope that their failure would validate his waning abilities and act as a sign that he was not…finished. Quietly, the man took the remaining plants and ground them into a muddy, useless paste. Rage began to well inside of him and water crept into his eyes. Seventy three years old and his life had suddenly ended. True, he still breathed, could move, could think, but as far as a purpose, a reason to live, his life was over. Under the sun, on the dirt, surrounded by an expanse of field, the man wept, defeated, arm reaching into his rear pocket to pull out his knife. Veins exposed by the night’s exertion and age pulsed beneath the exposed blade.[Weightlessness cradled the man as the years of dedication rolled off his shoulders and the faintest smile, the first in years, appeared on his face as he worked the knife.] X on his left wrist, then one quick pull across the throat before the knife was plunged into his heart. Years of labor and sweat and frustration and joy and love and hate flowed out with blood and splashed onto the ground, food for the last crop he would be responsible for. Zeroing in on the last point of light visible, the man fell forward, his eyes sliding closed as his last breath blew gently on a shoot of green. | 2,038 | 0 | 587 | 59 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Oh, yes! I love a good challenge!
-----
“And no cheating!”
Bethany and Olivia had been delighted to realize the entire afternoon was theirs to use as they wished. Carefree and brimming with excitement, the two girls had immediately run to the neighborhood park to play; it would be taboo to waste even a second of a day this ripe with possibility.
Dusk had fallen by the time they’d wandered over to the swings. Everyone had left except the two of them, but Beth didn’t mind. For the most part, this day had been wonderful, all sunshine and butterflies; there was just one instant, one dark moment that stained her otherwise flawless memory:
“Good thing your mommy doesn’t care when you get back,” Olivia had chirped, swinging her feet contentedly as she waited for her friend to join her atop the jungle gym, oblivious to the implications of her words.
Her mouth had twisted into a slight frown. “I don’t want to talk about her,” Beth muttered. *Just like Livvie to go bringing that up,* she thought, before forgetting the unsettling remark and once again distracting herself with happier things.
Killing time, they had explored the park’s playground, pretending they were princesses and the jungle gym was their enchanted castle. “Look at my new dress, isn’t it just the loveliest thing?” Beth asked with a gusty sigh.
“Marvelous, Beth darling,” Olivia had giggled, twirling to show off her own imaginary gown.
Now the girls sat side-by-side on the swings, ready to settle things once-and-for-all. Olivia was convinced she could swing higher than Beth, who, likewise, insisted that she could leap farther. Pumping her legs and fast as she could, Beth strove to gain enough momentum to outdo her best friend and prove that she, Bethany Jessica Carlton, was indeed the champion of the swings.
Quickly she reached her maximum amplitude and was unable to swing any higher. Realizing that *this was it,* Beth kicked the air one final time and threw herself from the swing. She felt, in that moment, as if she were flying through space, her arms outstretched like wings and her gaze fixed on the stars. There was nothing, nothing, tethering her to the earth!
Until she hit the ground. Very suddenly, the spell was broken. Where Olivia had sat just minutes ago was nothing but a motionless swing, the slight creaking of its hinges the only sound to disturb the night.
“’Xactly like I said, Livvie. You can’t beat me,” Beth whispered to the darkness. Zipping up her sweater against the chill of the wind, she walked home, completely alone, as she had been all day. | 77 | 0 | 587 | 60 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Yeah, this was pretty tough. Mines pretty simplistic and basic but it's something I think i'll start playing with more later. It was interesting, thanks!
_________________________________________________________
Anytime now he knew the news he had long been waiting for would be exposed.Besides the large amount of stress and insomnia he had been suffering from lately, this was taking up all of his energy. Couldn’t someone just burst through those doors in the next few seconds already?
Denying himself the luxury of counting down the minutes was the only thing keeping him sane.Every time he thought enough time had gone by, the trailing seconds reminded him of how silly he was being.
Future generations were at stake here. Girl or boy, that is what was important to him. He had been waiting nine months for this moment and it was finally here. Ignoring all of the outside things during this pregnancy had become an awful habit of his. Just his wife was very understanding of his sympathy pains that often mirrored hers. Keith hated the fact that she didn’t want him in there with her, it made all the waiting even worse.
Love and excitement surged through him, the lobby clock ticking away minutes of his life.
Maybe sitting here with the television off was a bad idea, sitting like this allowed him to focus.Not having the ambient noise of a television but the consistent sound of the ticking clock was starting to wear him down. Only seconds seemed to have ticked away since he drove his wife to the hospital and she was swepted away by a small army of nurses and doctors.
Possibly, that would have been the best time to join her, to completely ignore her wish to go through this alone. Questioning this made Keith feel worse, why was it now that he thinks of these things?Rolling through his thoughts were tons of things he could have done differently, to not only be there for her but to find out at least second, the sex of his child.
Still his heart thumbed heavily, it really didn’t matter what the sex was.
This was Keith’s chance to make something right in his life, to help correct all of his wrongs.Using this child was the perfect time to begin his life anew.Vacant, is how his body felt right when he heard hollow footsteps outside of the waiting room.Wandering into the lobby was the doctor, smiling happily.
Xanadu, it’s the place that Keith felt like he had reached at last.
Your son has been born, what will you call him, this is what was asked.
Zion, his name is Zion.
| 6 | 0 | 587 | 61 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Anytime any asks me why I insist on assaulting angels, I tell them. Because those bitches deserve to be beaten, bruised, bullied. Can you see me, there in front of a statue? Daring them to do something about it. Egging them on. Fist balled into tight packages of pain. Getting ready to rumble! Hatred spilling from my eyes. I start to dance around, weaving like a snake. Just when you think I’m, you know, just dancing…. Kapow! Let ‘em have it, right into the solar plexus. Make ‘em cry. Next, the kicking. One, two three! Punch ‘em a few more times. Quick as lightning. Really quick. Sting ‘em like a wasp. Till they can’t take no more. Unless they CAN take more, cause I GOT more to give. Very few angelic statues can stand my assaults. When I’m done, there’s just rubble, and tears. Xerox my face, put up all the signs you want. You’ll never stop me, jack. Zoos full enraged gorillas couldn’t stop me, jack. | 11 | 0 | 587 | 62 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Absolutely nothing makes sense to me as I awake and smell the carnage around me. Blasted and burned bodies lay strewn about the dark chamber and I have no memory of who I am... or how I arrived in this place.
Calling upon what little reserves of strength I still possess, I sit up and try to assess the situation.
Death is everywhere and somehow I know my time is short. Evaluating my condition, I notice a strange electronic device attached to my left wrist. Framed in silver is a single small button that glows in the dimness with a bright white light.
Gagging from the smell, I realize this is some kind of crematorium or torture chamber. Having said this, I did notice the bodies were not completely consumed. I make my way around the perimeter of the chamber, looking for any way out.
Just as I complete my hopeless circuit of the room, there is a distant sound of thunder.
Kurt, my name is Kurt - that useless information suddenly intrudes upon my consciousness. Least of my concerns right now, but I remember who the hell I am.
Maybe it's my imagination, but it seems to be getting warm all of the sudden. Needless to say, this doesn't make me feel any better about my predicament.
Over to my right I realize that there is some kind of vent about ten feet off the floor, too high up the wall for me to reach. Peculiar, it is now bathed in an orange glow from within. Questions are now set aside... the fire is coming for me.
Rescue is impossible, I am trapped. Seething with rage, I try to look every direction at once, seeking a solution. The air is now filled with a roaring sound as the flames approach.
Unlikely as it seems, I have forgotten about the device on my wrist. Very likely it will not save me, but I have no other options. What will happen, I cannot say.
Xu Bing, Words Without Meaning... I feel like a man without meaning in this moment. You know, I have to wonder... why I am even here?
Zipping up my jacket, I press the button.
| 155 | 0 | 587 | 63 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Alas! By cryptography, days - entire *furlongs* - got hidden. I just keep language monographs not obscured. Poor quotients result (Saturday, Tuesday) until viewed with XML / YES: Zeta-function. | 18 | 0 | 587 | 64 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 587 | 65 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | **Mute**
After the morning her face appeared I began to speak in tongues. By the afternoon I was blurting out phrases in characters I had never heard. Clenching the locket I had just put on, I looked to her face. Deliberately mute, she said nothing back. Engraved in the mountain was the snow white silhouette that looked down on me in silent repose.
For all I knew, the locket my uncle gave me was cursed. Gently set into my open hands, he had told me to guard my words. He had traveled the world when he was younger, and came back with scars like stories. “I am the keeper of tongues,” were the last words I ever heard him speak.
Keeping to myself was easy in the new city, there wasn’t a single recognizable face until the girl on the mountain appeared. Luminous eyes looked to me and listened as I babbled. My words were a jumble, and the locket was heavy on my neck. Not a single bit of rust was on the necklace, it was pure silver with empty engravings. Opening it was impossible, but when I held it to my ear I could hear voices.
Pulsating against my skin I could barely discern each one. Quaking dirt and shuddering concrete began to plague the city on the third day after she appeared with each tremor growing larger. Urging her to tell me what she knew I climbed through the city searching for her voice, words that were out of place, anything to tell me more. Rust and rummage was cluttered under the bridge where I found the graffiti: *Wish you were here.*
Stutters began to strangle my words. The locket was starting to burn against my skin, and when I went back to the bridge the words had changed. Usually I would have brushed it off but now it said; *you were here. *
Vicious words a lover would say, that phrase echoed in my ears when I looked to the mountain. Wilting in my throat was my tongue as the babbling seemed to overpower my vocal cords. Xs and Os melted from her lips as the sun worked on her visage.
“You heard us,” someone whispered when I returned to the bridge and saw that the graffiti was gone. Zipping shut the locket closed with my tongue inside.
| 4 | 0 | 587 | 66 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Although the day was calling as it always had, Henry remained engulfed in the tomb he called home. Beautiful rays of light cascaded down towards the rickety house but were blocked out by heavy windowshades. Crafting together a workload that may make a typical ant crumble from the weight he hardly flinched at the thought of the countless hours of work he still needed to complete. Destiny rang the doorbell before he was rightfully settled.
"Everyone's coming!" the woman cried through the door with enough enthusiasm to back a clown into the wall, "will you please come out today Henry?" Feigning sleep he ignored her calls, looking near the door he saw the embroidered suitcase his father left him staring at him.
"God damn hippies" he whispered under his tongue. *How could he possibly join in with these dilusional runts that wore masks to hide their true selves?* Instead of leaving the building, he walked towards the suitcase with a queer look in his eyes. Just the thing he needed; although his father hadn't initially planned it like this, an event this big could bring out the masses. Knowing he had only a few hours before dusk, he hastened his original plans. Lamenting over issues as far as cramming a few hours into one was not his primary concern.
Malpractice was usual out of their governor, so Henry decided today he would introduce his own form of anarchy. Never waste a second, his father had always told him.
Omnipotent powers were not easily swayed by protests but there were other more meaningful ways of making a demonstration. Postponing his more vigorous plans for later at night, he dressed himself in a luxurious suit, grabbed his suitcase, and headed out the door. Quelling his boyish excitement, he maintained a hard demeanor while walking along the street towards the city hall. Realistically the world was not ready for his estranged plan, but he plunged forward into imminant doom regardless of the consequences. Sad as the display was upon arriving at the hall, he edged his way through the wall to wall protest and towards the front steps of the giant white building remaining calm, shouts from the people around him would only serve to drive his enthusiasm. Today was the day he changed the world. Underneath him, cold white marble built the monument; he sat on it and began to assemble the containments of his suitcase. Violence was only a means of persuasion left to feeble minded men, Henry knew the true instrument of power and ripped open his briefcase to reveal it.
Weilding nothing but a voilin he began to play the sweetest sonata to touch an ear, perfecting the craft through countless years of training from his father. Xanax would be an understatement in describing the feeling released during the display, the protesters quieted and stood with awe, the forces of police dropped their raised arms to their sides, and Henry stood on the marble stairs weaving his songs as smooth as silk, standing as tall as a giant. Yesterday his plan wasn't so simple. Zen, the way he moved defined the togetherness of mind and body was truly magical; his other plans could wait. | 5 | 0 | 587 | 67 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | I like your usage of the silent 'w', like in 'whole'.
But to not only focus on one letter: very nicely done! | 2 | 0 | 587 | 68 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvvwxyz amidoinitrite | -3 | 0 | 587 | 69 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Any other person would have been allowed to come into the shop. Basically my boss was cool with just about anybody doing business with us, so long as they were willing to pay money and get out of the way for the next shmuck in line. Carter was the one person that was banned from the store; something neither he or my boss were comfortable talking about.
Driving home from work last week, I noticed Carter hanging around the stoop of the Old Post Office where he was having a smoke. Evading my gaze as I drove past him, it was clear that he was not wanting to anything to do with me. From what I had heard from gossiping woman at the Tim Hortons, Carter felt betrayed by me and my coworkers. "Great..." I thought to myself. "He's pissed at me for sure."
I decided I needed to talk to him about what had gone down that day. Just because he wasn't willing to talk about it with Selma Barrington didn't mean he'd hold out on the details from one of his best buddies. Kicking the cold steps before him, Carter looked up as I pulled up to the sidewalk. "Leave me be," he urged. "unless you're here to tell me you are leaving that shithole and going to work somewhere else."
"Maybe you should tell me what the hell is going on?" I demanded. "Nobody knows what the hell happened between you two, so why the hell would we take sides without knowing the facts?"
"Obviously you don't, or you would have quit working for that freak." Carter retorted like a sulking child. Picturing him like a twelve year old made this situation seem less pathetic in my mind initially, but now I was beginning to get the sense that maybe I should take a step back and reorganize myself.
"Quit being so damn foolish." I told him as he suddenly stood up to walk away, pretending to ignore me. "Really? So what now?"
"That bastard..." he grumbled after he stopped his retreat, facing opposite of me. "Useless people like him have no business doing what he did."
"Vent all you need to," I assured him calmly. "Would you just turn, face me, and tell me what he did to make you so furious."
"Xavier," he began as he turned around. "You need to mind your own fucking business and back off." 'Zany' Zach Carter from my graduating class of 1986 never spoke to me again after he said those words. | 6 | 0 | 587 | 70 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Alone. Bleeding. Conscious... but barely. David tried to move around but pain kept him from doing anything quickly. Everything hurt. From the bottom of his foot to the tear in his shoulder, the pain jumped like fire throughout his body. Geeze. How did things escalate so quickly?
It's never been easy for David. Just a few days ago, he thought his luck was turning around. Karma was finally shining on him. Last night, it all came crashing down when a stranger attacked him for no reason. Many mistakes were made. No one could have seen this coming.
Once he noticed the blood, he realized that his time on this earth wasn't long. Prepared for death, he picked himself up with the determination to walk somewhere where they would find his body. Questions about his possible survival were unnecessary, as he looked at the trail of blood behind him. Resting was just not an option.
Somehow he made it out of the desert and back into civilization. Thoughts of being saved by a kind stranger raced through his head. Unfortunately, the streets were bare. Visibility for David was diminishing, but his heart was still apparently strong. Walking towards the hospital was the only chance that he had for survival. Xenocide, by Orson Scott Card, was a book lying on the side of the road.
Yesterday was a bad day.
Zombies had eaten David's brain.
| 17 | 0 | 587 | 71 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | then the cop said, "now try it again... THIS TIME BACKWARDS" | 3 | 0 | 587 | 72 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Atomic light shone through the church like the light of god himself. Burning bright, brighter than the bush on the mount. Chris could only look as the beginning of the end finally came to claim him. "Dawn of a new era", thought Chris. Even he knew that he was now finally free, as the light tore through his flesh. Freedom from the bonds of mortality, he thought. Generations from now people will remember the day they were freed. He laughed. In fact he realised how silly that thought was as the light ripped through his eye sockets, his naval cavity and his mouth. Just as the light seared through his hand which was covering his face, Chris realised there would be no more generations to remember the day. Kaos had won. Love, hate, fear, anger, greed were all no more. Millions gone in an instant, claimed by the light. No more suffering, only purity. Of course, there could've been survivors. People, somewhere. Quickening, the light, having incinerated his clothes moved on to his arms and legs. Registering no pain, Chris realised that by now his nervous system had probably been dissolved in the plasma that by now engulfed him. Sight had gone, along with his eyes as the very bonds between the fundamental particles that made them up had been broken by the bomb. Today was the last day for Chris, and it was about time. "Universal freedom for all from the chains of mortality", read the posters put up by the rebels. When he knew they would win, he did not fear death but embraced it. "Xeroxes, that's what we are - all xeroxes of each other, and now all gone thrown to the wind", was his final thought. Yearning for the next step, the end, the omega was his final feeling. Zillions of particles born of dying stars had become free of the ionic bonds of slavery to become plasma once more, and to form the heart of a new star, a star borne of man; this was Kaos finally reigning supreme. | 1 | 0 | 587 | 73 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | If you were from Sweden the story would be 3 sentences longer :) | 2 | 0 | 587 | 74 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | not sure anyone here likes underground hip hop but heres one of my favorite [songs] (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvPnM2Q1nwU) using alphabetic order.. | 2 | 0 | 587 | 75 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | All throughout my childhood have been memories of fruit. Beautiful, delectable, and tasty fruit. Children on my block used to gather around and play with fruit, except one child never came outside, and only watched the children play. Daniel Honeydew. Everyone knew of him, because he was a household name, but nobody dared speak to him. Fruit was never the main part of Daniel's life, in fact when brought up in conversation, he ignored it.
Gradeschool came, and Daniel was the outcast. How he made it to graduating college is beyond me. I don't recall him ever having a group of friends. Just him and his lunch, alone at the table. Kids used to poke and make fun of him, and when they did, he ate in the bathroom. Let's not forget the fact that kids in the bathroom used to poke fun at him as well. My friends always used to ask me how Daniel Honeydew was as a neighbor, and I never knew what to respond. Not one of our neighbors talked to the Honeydew family, let alone Daniel Honeydew.
Over time, Honeydew grew into a mysterious and elegant highschooler. People in high school were not as nasty to him, but as the technological age developed, so did Cyberbullying. "Quarterback Jack" (Jack Hendelson from the Football Team) used to taunt Daniel by making fake Facebook accounts of girls, which led Daniel Honeydew to pure humility and disappointment. Right as the technological age got smarter, Daniel Honeydew got smarter. Soon after, Daniel was hacking "Quarterback Jack's" Facebook and reverting the Cyberbullying back to him. This not only proved that Daniel was evolving into a smarter being, but also one with a sense of humor at that.
Under his coat of excellence and pseudo-superiority however, was a shy timid boy who had met a girl at school named Melanie Waters, whom Daniel tried very much to impress. Violet flowers, classical music, and fake champagne. While Melanie Waters barely knew him, Daniel made his romantic dates with her a giant ordeal. "Xoxoxo," was written on signs all over his house, which I thought was very creepy.
Years later, it was moving day with Melanie to Ohio, and Daniel Honeydew became the man I, my friends, or "Quarterback Jack" never was. Zooming by in his Cadillac for the last time I saw him on my block, the past 'children' and I looked at each other, and saw what became of the 'weird' kid on the block. | 10 | 0 | 587 | 76 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Always' been like this. Bullshit everywhere, all the time. Can't take much more of this. Don't know what to do. Even if it stopped now, I've been through too much already. Fuck my life. Gonna have to get out of here maybe. Have a break from all this fucking bullshit!
I decided then it was time, so I left.
Just as I was packing my stuff something came to my mind. Knowing that it couldn't get any worse, I could now choose wherever I wanted to go and have no regrets. Lithuania. Mexico. Nigeria. Only one step away from becoming independent. Perhaps even free!
"Quiero ser libre!", I shouted in a great Spanish accent. Really great accent.
So, I did it. Took my belongings and went out of this goddamn place forever. Upon arrival at the airport I knew I was doing the right thing. Vagina. Where to go? Xavier would know.
Yesterday I had a friend but now I have none. Zero. | 7 | 0 | 587 | 77 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Hey, I cheated. I've done this before, but its a good one so I'll post.
I did it for talk like a pirate day - you might even learn some new jargon!
---------------------------------------------------------------
“Shiver me timbers!” shouted the captain. “There’s trouble afoot!”
Usually pirates would be thrilled to spot another vessel, but this ship was different…
Venturing pirates are afraid only of one thing, hulks^1. With its red ensign^2 flaring, the hulk began to engage.
“Xebecs^3 are not what we are up against,” stated the captain with a hint of sarcasm. “Ye must get to your posts quickly, aye, and fend off these landlubbers!!!”
Zipping to their positions quickly, the pirate crew got ready to defend themselves. All hands were ready at their positions to fend off the approaching hulk.
Backtracking to gain firing position, the pirates prepared to fire chain shot^4 so that the hulk would be easier to board^5. Chain shot from the pirate’s six pounders^6 soon found its way to the hulk’s masts and sails, rendering the hulk immobile.
Devastating direct blasts from the hulk’s cannons tore holes in the side of the pirate ship, sending splinters soaring everywhere. Ere long the buccaneers were all on deck, readying gangplanks. Filing alongside the stock-still hulk, the buccaneers were ardent for action, spewing curses at their enemy. Gunshots from blunderbusses rocketed through the air just before the two ships aligned. Heaving the gangplanks from vessel to vessel, the scurvy dogs initiated their assault. In a blink of an eye, there was a colossal inrush of combating bodies. Jolly Roger versus red ensign; this would be an epic fracas. Keen on pushing back the pirates, the navy tars^7 fought to hold their ground, but to no avail. Legions of merciless marauders streamed forth and there was no stopping them. Mustering, the tars attempted a final valiant retaliation, one last push at redemption, aye, but it was worth nil. Naught could stop the band of scalawags; dauntless efficacy pushed the cutlass over the rapier. Only the admiral remained, but shortly he was dancing the hempen jig^8. Plundering began without delay; the pirates had a new (and superior) ship once they replaced the ripped sails. Quickly they transferred all their equipment to their new vessel, scuttled the old ship, and set sail for more adventures.
“Raise the Jolly Roger, men,” instructed the captain, “Aye, AND THEN FOR ME RUM AND BUMBOO^9!!!”
Scallywag Vocabulary
1. British navy ship
2. British flag
3. Small Mediterranean ships
4. Two halves of cannonballs linked together by chain, for tearing down sails
5. Come alongside a ship and then fight man to man
6. Cannons
7. Sailors
8. Hung
9. Alcoholic beverage flavored with sugar and nutmeg
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Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | After talking to her dad about it, she made a decision. Being the good grade student she was, she wanted to try an AP class. Calling to her teacher in class the day before, she had gotten the "ok" to go into advanced placement in that subject. "Dang it," she thought to herself as she recalled her conversation with her math teacher earlier in the day. "Every mainstream student must stay in mainstream in highschool unless they take a summer course," she had told her. Fine. Gretchen didn't want to do AP math anyways. Highschool would be stressful enough without having to do extra homework every day. Instead, she looked into science. Just because she made A's in there didn't mean she could handle AP science. Keeping the thought in her head, she wrote down a reminder to ask her teacher. Later the next day she asked her teacher if she thought she should do it or not. "Maybe," said her teacher as she sorted through assignments from the previous day. "Now just remember though, if you do, you might not get as good of grades. You know this, right?"
"Oh, yes ma'am, I know. Please let me know before I sign up for my classes."
Questioning her next year of school, she walked out of the classroom. "Ready for highschool?" asked one of her friends coming up to her in the hall.
"Some of the parties look like fun. The actual education looks more challenging, though. Unlike most people, I'll have to spend half my time studying."
Very few people understood why Gretchen wanted good grades and a good education so badly. Well how else would she get a good paying job later on in life?
Xerxes played on her mp3 as she tried to relax that night. Yearning for highschool to hit be simple, she took off her shoes. Zipping her bag up until she had to sin up for her classes, she let herself drift off to sleep.
The end.
That. Took me. Forever. T_T
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Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | As I walked in the door you could not help but notice the strange atmosphere in this place.Bars don't normally give off this vibe. Connies place was different tho. Dirty pictures hanging on the wall. Esoteric curtains everywhere .Fuck don't even get me started on the lighting .God damn motherfuckers couldn't decorate for shit..Hell if I didn't know any better i would say this place was getting ready for some kinda crazy party.
I always kept my gun tucked into the front of my pants.Just in case things went south quick.Killing people tends to make situations head that way.Looking at the dirty old mirror on the wall. My reflection smiled back at me .Not a bad looking guy at all.Only thing i could find wrong with my self was the broken nose.Punched in by some drunk last week .Queer thing being sucker punched.
Really I was looking for the cocksucker that did this to my nose. Suddenly i spot him from across the room.Taking out anything in my path was my only thought.Under the table i pulled out my gun and cocked it.Very quietly i stood up and began to make my way towards this asshole. While i was moving he must have spotted me.X marks the spot and his head just happend to make a natural one dead center of his fore head.
"You mother fucker tell me your name before i kill you."
"Zach" was all i let him get out before placing my bullet right smack dab in the middle of that x. | 1 | 0 | 587 | 80 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 587 | 81 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | I know I'm late, but:
A teenage boy walked into my shop the other day. Beastly in appearance, he approached my counter with a bottle of soda and a candy bar. “Can I also purchase a pack of Marlboros”, he sheepishly asked with a quiver in a voice.
“Do you have ID?” I responded. Every time this situation plays out, it plays out exactly the same way. First, the obviously underage “customer” fumbles around in his pocket for a minute. Gesturing that he doesn’t have it, he gives some lame excuse, like he forgot it, or it’s in his other pants’ pocket. Here, the situation started to play out again, just as it has the last hundred times or so. I was surprised at what happened next, though.
“Just gimme the cigarettes or I’ll shoot!” yelled the kid as he pulled out a shiny, black pistol. Killing someone over a pack of cigarettes seemed a little extreme, so I complied with his demands. Little did I know at the time that I hadn’t actually had any cigarettes to sell. Maneuvering around behind the counter, all I could find were empty boxes and cases of chewing gum. Not all would-be robbers could be bribed with Big League Chew, but perhaps this one was different.
On second thought, I decided a less comical, more straightforward approach would be best. Picking the best approach was a delicate matter. Quivering myself, I told him we were actually out of Marlboros, and Newports and Parliaments for that matter. Racing through my head were thoughts of panic, accented with the anxiety knowing full well I may never see my friends or family again and that this very well was the end of my life. So it depended upon the indulgence of an immature kid wielding a weapon of death. Though the next few seconds were but a blur in my mind, I’ll try to recall them the best I can. Under my counter was the silent alarm. Very smoothly, I pressed my finger on the alarm button. When the kid saw my finger slide under the counter, he panicked too. “X marks the spot!” he shouted and fired his gun at me. Young people never think about the consequences of their actions. Zen filled my mind as I looked down and saw a bullet wound where my right lung used to be and the gunman run off. | 4 | 0 | 587 | 82 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | (Less of a story, more of a narrative, and the best part is it's all TRUE which made it even harder to write!!! Took about an hour.)
All I’ve ever dreamed to do is perform. Broadway has always beckoned me. Call me crazy, but I’ve always considered that as “making it’… not L.A. Day after day they perform the same songs, same script which some would say is monotonous. Even so, it still calls to me. Frankly, I find L.A. too fake. Grabbing the attention of short, fat & ugly men in that industry with sex instead of talent is detestable to me. Hollywood types can take all of that and keep it for themselves. It happens on Broadway, too, I’m sure, but if you can’t act and you can’t sing to begin with, you won’t make it. Just take a look at some current Broadway stars… not the best looking bunch of people in the world, but their TALENT? Knock you off your feel AMAZING. Let me know where else you see people whose jobs are based in repetition but can still deliver every night just like they did the first. “Miss Saigon” was the first Broadway show I ever saw back in the 90’s. Never seen “Cats” or Phantom, which is weird. Of course I’ve seen “Les Miserables”, too… 3 or 4 times!
Particularly, one show stands out in my mind when I think of my dream of being on Broadway. Queer as it will sound when I tell you the name, it still means so much to me. Reborn from a horrible 80’s cult classic, I worked behind the scenes for this Broadway show and saw it about 3 times a week for almost a year. Silly, hilarious and inspiring (literally)… the show taught me that with a little love and support, we can dream big, be who we want to be, and create beautiful art in various forms. To this day in my own mind, I still cast myself as one of the Muses, or as one of the mythical creatures singing to the God of the Gods on Mount Olympus. Unbeknownst to my friends and family around me, I sing and dance in my head all day to adoring audiences who I perform for with enthusiasm night after night. Vying for their admiration, I sing my heart out, charm them with my perfectly delivered comedic lines and make them realize the importance of inspiration from the things and people we love. What is this show? Xanadu… where love and the creation of art go hand in hand. You can call me crazy, and that’s fine. Zeus will undoubtedly grant me the gift of Xanadu when the time is right but for now, the dream stays in my head. | 3 | 0 | 587 | 83 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Here we go.
Another day was passing by like any other. Blackness surrounded everything he did and saw now. Cool winds swept through the leaves outside and tossed them around playfully. Despite the joyous dancing, he could only see their crinkled brown skin breaking. Everything was less beautiful.
For a period of time, he had trapped himself inside. Garbage piled up in the corner attracting flies. His hamper had overflowed deep into his room, both in capacity and smell.
Indifference marked him now. Jamming his toe on the corner of his bed a week ago was the most emotion he had felt in months. Kneeling down to coddle the wound, he broke down into tears. Lament for his toe, for himself, for everything really. Melancholy overcame him and he felt the pain he had been holding back for so long. Not now though, now he watched the leaves perform the Nutcracker out his window.
Oliver finally rose lazily from his daze. Perfectly alone, he turned to find something to eat. Quietly, he went through cupboards and drawers before finally settling on the refrigerator. Remnants of crumbs from long forgotten meals littered the thing. Salad dressing and a half empty bottle of Coca Cola were the only things that remained. Torn, he went to the Coke first. Unscrewing the cap, he found an unsurprising lack of a hiss. Vapors of syrup were distinctly missing from the now flat drink. With a motion that would make a sloth seem quick, he put back the cola and picked up the bottle of dressing. Xanthan gum, glucono delta-lactone, lactic acid, spices, phosphoric acid read the back ingredients panel. "You sound like a sci-fi book," he said in a degrading tone. Zillions of moments of silence had been broken so, startled, he closed the refrigerator door, grabbed his jacket, and went for a walk outside. | 1 | 0 | 587 | 84 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | [deleted] | 6 | 0 | 587 | 85 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Here is my shot at this, not at all my best, but I usually don't write constrained by alphabet letters :)
Another day has come again and shown its version of reality
Bravely I try to face it, knowing how much it will take from me
Could there have been another way?
Did she have to die that day?
Either way, her life has come and gone
Fate stole her from us before we knew something was wrong
Gathering ourselves and standing up tall
Holding each others hands so we do not fall
I cannot bear the thought of life without her
Joined by my father and brother, we struggle to leave this moment
Knowing after this she won't be part of our lives any longer
My mother is gone, and because of this my family fractured
Nothing can fix us, we all feel lost without her
Our words are whispers, our tears are silent
Prayers are said that she may find peace and comfort
Questions asked with every prayers
Reasons pleaded so we could understand why this happened, why we are alone without her
Silence is the only response that we get, the words of friends do nothing to fill the voids of understanding in our heads
Tempers flare and we scream and cry at those who are not at fault
Understanding that we are hurt and we lash out because the pain just overflows
Very carefully we slowly take our steps
Walking from a moment we don't want to leave, but wish we could forget
"X" off each day on the calendar as time goes by
Yearning for each happy memory of her to stay alive
Zero strength to make the next step and plan the rest of my life with her not involved
| 2 | 0 | 587 | 86 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck my life. I had a story written out about how this awesome dragon takes over a kingdom and I was on U and I was planning for the dragon to move on and die after 30,000 years but then someone hit the "home page button". THEY WILL DIE!!!!!! | 1 | 0 | 587 | 87 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Agony. Beyond pain, fire wracked her body, curling fingers licking her flesh. Close by, the stench of smoke and burning flesh filled the air with a vicious miasma. Drenched in sweat she howled, shrieks of a throat raw and bleeding from screams.
Echoing across the darkened courtyard, her shrieks fell among hard faces, grim with hate. Fire rose higher, igniting more faggots on the pyre. Great billows of smoke flowed forth, fouling the air. Higher the flames rose, reaching for her hungrily. Incense from pendulous censers mixed with the smoke, making a mist of horror. Jerking, screeching, she tried to pull away.
Keeping close watch, murmuring dark-cowled figures pushed her back, stoking the flames with torches, guttering and spitting oil in the incendiary night. Lost in the roar of burning fire, her screams diminished, a wail of lost piteous toil, as the fire kept its deadly purpose. Many eyes watched, the fire’s reflection a burning torch in their own eyes. Never blinking, the desolate faces stared at her, still writhing in the fire’s grip.
Onward the flames rose, lighting her dress’s hem, raising a curdling screech. Plain terror echoed her voice, horse in the smoke and roar. Questing, searching, her eyes flicked, but there was no surcease from the crowd. Raw with terror, her wails raised a murmur in the crowd, a slow chant. Slowly it built, words forming, point by counterpoint with her screams. Throwing more wood, even the dark-cowled gaolers joined the chant. Under the howl of the fire, it grew louder. Voices joined one by one until it was clear, all chanting in unison. “Witch, burn witch, burn witch burn.”
Xanthin from marigolds was thrown into the pyre by a dark figure as the chant rose. Yellow flames burned brighter as she torched, her final wail fading into the smoky mist. Zeal absolved, the dark crowd chanted as one, watching as the body melted, sizzling lumps of fat splattering onto the guttering pyre.
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Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Aaron dove out of the way, the dragon's fire missing him by mere inches. Bleeding heavily, Aaron drew his sword; he wasn't going to let this overgrown lizard get the best of him. Charging like a berserker, he thrust his sword into the beast's gut and sent a vicious burst of lightning through the blade; the dragon roared in anguish. Death was taking hold of the monstrous being, but still it fought with vigor. Eventually, the dragon could hold out no longer, and collapsed, its life extinguished.
For ten years, this beast had been the bane of Greenbrook, wreaking havoc on the little town. Greenbrook was a small village, its people fair and humble. How and why the dragon came was never known, but it didn't matter; what mattered was that the attacks had been getting worse, the beast growing bolder and more vicious by the day. In the end, no one would have expected little Aaron Cooper to be the one to slay the monster. "Just our little Aaron", the villagers would say, whenever travelers asked about the quiet child sitting alone by himself. "Kid's a strange lad, doesn't act like the rest of the kids" they'd say with a sigh, watching the other children play and frolic they were supposed to, not sit like a statue and stare into nothing
Little did the townfolk know that Aaron could see things that they could not. Monstrous serpents slithered sinuously, fairies danced in the air, mighty warriors fought phantoms battles as ghostly lightning ravaged the land around them. No one in the town could see these wonders. Only Aaron. Poor little Aaron had been born a sorcerer, with powerful magic ability. Sorcery was a rare talent, almost unheard of in Greenbrook. People mistrusted magic, and the increasingly frequent dragon attacks only worsened their attitude towards the mystical. Quiet little Aaron could see things that the people chose not to, and with this knowledge, he resolved to be the one to take down the dragon.
Respect. Such a thing is taken for granted, but in the eyes of the young boy, it was the most important thing in the world. That was what Aaron craved most: respect. Under the dark of night, he trained in secret, honing his skills in swordplay with mentors that none but him could talk to. "Very good", his spectral teachers had told him one night, "You are now ready to face the dragon". With great purpose, Aaron traveled to the dragon's lair and dispatched the foul beast, protecting the town that he loved, even if it did not love him back.
Xavier, the town-crier, woke the town with news of the boy's deeds. "Young Aaron has slew the dragon!" he cried, to the incredulous citizens of Greenbrook. Zero noise was made as town stared at the champion, who walked past the speechless throngs of people, and went to bed.
Sorry it's so late, just noticed this today. Never saw this subreddit before, it's really neat. And that was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.
Edit: Fixed an inconsistency.
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Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | you are the 1% | 1 | 0 | 587 | 90 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | i know i'm late to this party but i wrote this for this post and some of it happened at some ironic times soo here it is (also first time posting long time reading, yay!)
______________________________________________________________
Alone again, he sat quietly in his rolling office chair. Brian had been contemplating doing this for quite a while now; he’d somehow managed to finally work up the balls to do it. Certainly no one would miss him as much as he wished they would. During his short 18 years on this planet he had accomplished little that was worth note to anyone but family and close friends. Even though he set everything up just a few moments before, he wanted to check again to make sure this would be as clean as possible. Friends liked to believe he was thoughtful and caring, but they never knew what was really going through his mind. God seemed to be looking out for him, his phone was ringing again. He answered the phone on its fourth ring. In a few short minutes, he learned the reason for the call. John “subtly” hinted that he wanted to borrow money for a new Xbox. Knowingly, almost jokingly, Brian assured John that he could have his money whenever he needed it. Letting the phone drop to the ground, Brian croaked out a laugh. Momentarily he hesitated, not quite reaching for his chosen peace. No, he wasn’t going to chicken out now. Over the years there was one thing that his friends actually learned about him, he finished what he started. Placing the wooden grips in his hands made him shiver ever so slightly. Quitting was not usually in his nature; however, he didn’t see this as quitting, not quite. Relief flooded through his body and mind as he slid the magazine into its well. Sweat poured down his arms, his grip was wet but firm. Time seemed to slow as he pulled and released the slide. Ugly little thing that it was, his Colt would do the job. Valor, value, vanity, his own traits as well as those of his ‘friends’; none of it would matter soon. When the barrel contacted his teeth, soft clicks chanted across the small room; he felt nothing beyond the desire now. Xanax, no Abilify, maybe Cymbalta, Brian could no longer remember the names of what he had ingested to stop the desire. Young as he was, he had long since lost track of these things; one thing he knew was the pressure the trigger needed. Zero hour had arrived, he squeezed one pound, two pounds…at four he would no longer suffer and he couldn’t wait. | 1 | 0 | 587 | 91 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 587 | 92 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | [deleted] | 1 | 0 | 587 | 93 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Ah, see this sort of thing isn't very hard, my friend Paul and I did this for improv a lot.
Banishing the fear of the alphabet is the crux of the exercise, whilst maintaining story continuity. Cannily, our friends took advantage of us in our singular talent because if there's anything theater majors love to see its meteoric success or spectacular failure. Demonstrating our prowess our director decided to feature us one night, normally this is ok it happens all the time.
Enter - Opening night. Featuring: two guys that didn't like following rules for word exercises before structures training. Guys that, frankly would have given anything to be anywhere else. However Paul (My structure-mate) and myself were nothing if not good sports so we charged on... Into a performance that no one, not even ourselves expected.
Just imagine, two guys that mostly liked drinking, reading and performing now in front of a good couple hundred people in a structure that neither of them had practiced. Keep in mind, we weren't newbies to improv. Limelight was something both Paul and I sought and we had been doing every type of improv structure possible for years at this point. Marinating in my own sweat I met Pauls eyes across the stage in the wings and we heard our intro, Show time. Now this part was odd, our MC walked by and he gave me a nod and a "break a leg" that never happened.
Only two people were on the stage paid company by two chairs. Paul bellowed out to the audience using the diaphragm that his Polish ancestors gave him for a suggestion for a topic. "Queers!" came from the crowd, which was standard. Retardedly drunk people think they're hilarious, always. "Science" came another "Science it is" yelled out Paul. Timing was everything, we sat down in our chairs and rattled off sentences praying that it made SOME kind of sense. Understanding us was important so the timing we did have made left field statements seem pertinent, even if they were not at all relevant.
Vainly we pushed on through the letters, howls of laughter as we worked words like "Bunsen Burner, Fermenting, Eye washer" into incredibly malformed sentences, vain because the end of the alphabet was coming; the make or break point of our little game that had gone too far. With wild abandon we attacked the letters until I hit a blank. "Xenophobes hate the metric system, didn't you know?" Came out, dutifully giving the question back to Paul. Youth slipped by as I waited for a response, or laughter either or anything would have been good at that point, anything but silence. "Zeitgeist of our time I'm afraid" Paul responded Boooooofffffff I broke character right then and there "ARE YOU JOKING ME?!" the crowd erupted in laughter, crying and falling over, our castmates rushed the stage and we ended the night there - no point carrying on. | 1 | 0 | 587 | 94 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | I know the contest is over, but I don't care about that. I'm not a writer by trade, I saw this and decided to try it for the hell of it. Hope some of you guys see this and enjoy it for what it's worth.
All around him, the smell of death was nearly overwhelming. Bodies, by the dozens, lay strewn across the street. Crows were pecking at several of them. Death was real, and death was here. Earlier, Randall thought it was just a dream. Fighting the urge to just quit and give up, he knew he had to get away. Getting away from this area was going to be hard. Hell had seemingly broken loose, not just here, but everywhere else. In the distance, he could hear screams, gunshots, and occasional explosions. Just as he decided which direction he would take, he could see another horde coming towards him. Kill or be killed was the way the world had quickly turned. Living was in Randall's number one interest at the moment, so he knew he had to act quickly. Moving out of the street, he slunk alongside the business buildings, away from the horde. Not even two blocks down the street, he saw a building that wasn't boarded up. Opening the door quickly, he stepped inside. Peering into the dark, he could make out what looked to be a few moving figures. Quietly, he ran to the left side of the office, away from the figures. Realizing this was a dead-end, he quickly ran back to the front door in which he came. Stepping back outside into the sunlight, he saw the horde was no more than 15 feet away from him. These zombies were relentless and would never give up. Underneath the hot August sun, Randall made a split second decision that would end up being his last. Veering away from these undead, he bee-lined it in the other direction. While trying to make a run for it, his foot hit the curb and he fell, hard. X-rays weren't necessary for the compound fracture Randall was now looking at above his right ankle. Yelling in agony, shock, and disbelief, he looked at the horde one final time, now just feet from him. Zeroing in on Randall, he now realized this was the end to his own story. | 1 | 0 | 587 | 95 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | As I lay dying on my death bed, I started to reflect. Breathing heavily, I had a lot of questions. Can they save me? Do I really have to go now? Everything started to flash before my eyes. Far from a dream, this was reality. God, please, don't let me go. Help me. I was hopeless, and layed there with no one around. Just the patient on the other side of the curtain, no loved ones. Kicking myself for my mistakes, I was sadened even more. Lamely I tried to stand up for one last joy walk. More and more energy was wasted, and I failed to even move. Never had I not been able to move. Once I conceded that I was going to die, my thoughts got even worse. People wouldn't even remember me, or what I did in life. Quietly, I began to cry. Remembering the bad things was all I could do. Sorry for myself, I built up energy. The plug was right there, and I could, instead of suffering for a few more hours, just end it right now. Underneath the table it sat. Vigorously reaching for it I fell out of the bed. When I hit the floor, I woke up from my dream. X-Rays were negative, and showed the cancer had been cured. You need to start to LIVE your life, but not until tomorrow. Zzzzzzz, back to sleep I went. | 3 | 0 | 587 | 96 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | I decided to do a similar kind of Alphabet Game a few days ago, actually. Not sure how you guys are towards badly-written Pony fiction, but I basically decided to make almost every single word alphabetical (though I did resort to stuff like exuberant for x, because x is crazy to try and get a match for while staying on-topic). It does feel like I cheated in a few places, but ah well.
Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this—it was certainly fun writing it. (and again, sorry it doesn't follow the prompt exactly, but thought you guys might enjoy it anyway)
====
A beautifully creative day. Exuberance flooded great heads in joint, kicking like many noxious oxidized propellants. Quiet responses spread through, untamed. Visionaries working, exasperated while Zebra and Bull came defending each-other ferociously.
Greeted highly, instinct judged kneeling lead many numerous options. “Princess,” quelling responses, shared Twilight.
“Upmost visionary, why, exuberant young zany apprentice,” beautiful Celestia declared. Every fellow got, however interested, just knowingly leaned more near open prattling.
Quiet response, said Twilight, “Uhh, very welcome exuberant yellow xylophone ?”
After breathing, Celestia divulged, “Excellence feigning, great hubris.” | 1 | 0 | 587 | 97 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Zebra-yellowjacket xenographs were unimaginably, tediously stupid. Rarely quiet, perpetually odorous: Nature made less kind, just ignorant half-breeds. Great flying equines, dramatically colored. Boring abominations. | 1 | 0 | 587 | 98 |
Daily Prompt: The Alphabet Game [Difficulty level: HARD] | Arriving late to the game, I'm in a position to critique my competition. Bad grammar infects every entry in this thread, and a decent plot is nowhere to be found. Could a progressive-alphabet format really be so difficult to pull off that clarity and wit would necessarily take a back seat to syntax?
Don't worry about *my* prose faltering near the end of the alphabet. Eventually, of course, I will hit the ominous 'X', which has no earthly business at the beginning of a sentence. Fortunately, however, I have a plan to approach that dastardly letter with considerably more tact than my predecessors. Getting the adjacent sentences to blend with it naturally, however, may pose a problem.
Historically, the 'X' has been been a stumbling block in games like this one, because the only obvious contenders for x-words are 'xylophone', 'x-ray', 'xenophobia' and 'xerox'. I considered each of those, but they all seemed rather unwieldy. Judging from the competition, z-words are no picnic either. K-words are at least as awkward, but I'm confident I'll find a subtle gimmick to get me over that hump.
Lots of people in this thread used proper nouns (i.e. the names of people or places) to weasel their way around the tough letters. My goal, on the other hand, was to create text that flows naturally without any verbal crutches. Nothing of value is being created when we just force awkward sentences together, or circumvent the weak points of the English language by pulling proper nouns from any language.
One redditor even went so far as to put "Xoxoxo" (the symbols for 'hugs and kisses' often appended to the end of letters) at the beginning of his 'x' sentence. Perhaps I'm just being a snob, but I can't help but think we should at the very least hold ourselves to the standard of using *actual words*.
Quintessentially, this challenge is about creating a piece that flows naturally while operating under difficult constraints. Remove those constraints by taking easy shortcuts and it doesn't matter how smooth your writing is-- you've missed the point of the exercise.
Sure, I cheated a little with my 'k'-sentence, but I think you'll agree that it was strictly for comedic value, and not an attempt to circumvent the obligations of the challenge at hand. The truth is that the conversational nature of this post would have easily allowed me to replace that sentence with "Kindly note..." followed by any exposition I wanted. Unfortunately I fear that even having pointed out that I did have viable alternatives at the ready, some people are still going to accuse me of half-assing that bit.
Verbosity isn't an option with so few sentences remaining, so I'll have to abandon my rant and return your attention to my earlier claim about approaching my 'x'-sentence with tact. What I had in mind was a PSA to all the other authors who find this challenge in the future:
"X-Chromosome", my friends, is a relatively recent addition to our lexicon, and mainstream enough that you can use it in word games like this without raising objections.
You may be rolling your eyes at this suggestion, but that's only because you haven't considered the utility of tying it to the next hard-to-tackle letter, 'z', for which 90% of the participants shoe-horned in the word 'zero'.
"Zygotes", you see, are apropos to discussions of x-chromosomes, and the two terms when used in conjunction would let you end your exposition in a strong and unified way, as I have just demonstrated in this meta-analysis.
| 72 | 0 | 587 | 99 |
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