|
In
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 15:48
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 16, 2024 07:06 |
|
|
sebmojo posted:enjoying the flash rule giving, I think I'll spread the net a little wider Wait I didn't ask for a flash rule though?
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 16:20
|
|
|
Exmond posted:Wait I didn't ask for a flash rule though? now you get two >: ]
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 16:33
|
|
|
Speaking of flash rules, I'll take one
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 17:15
|
|
|
In. With a  since the last time I entered was in 2015 and I failed to submit for fear of my terrible words leading to the loss of my terrible Wild Cards tag.
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 18:05
|
|
|
The Amazing Victor Steele Amusement Park You don’t expect, when you’re young and running away from home, walking down a road through a silent forest in the middle of nowhere, that you would find the most beautiful and enticing and fun amusement park you’ve ever seen in your life. John Little, or Little John like his friends call him, certainly didn’t. Not that he’d seen many amusement parks before, this might be his first even. Still, his surprise discovery excited him like no other could. He’d been just about to give up and head back into town, night having already started to settle, and him still not having come up with a plan to finally break free from his parent’s stranglehold. Good thing too he’d had no plan though, for now he could bathe himself in the bright blue red and white light that announced the park. The Amazing Victor Steele Amusement Park, the sign read, Where the Magic Never Ends! It didn’t seem that you had to pay for a ticket to get in, and Little John didn’t bother to try to find if that was true. The park was full, he saw now that he was inside. People were walking around, going from one amusement to the next, their merriness in full display. He could hear, over all the ruckus, loose strands from the stories and adventures that they shared. “It goes up until you’re almost touching the sky, and when you least expect it plunges straight down full force! It was going so fast I thought I was gonna puke!” “Then she pointed her wand at the hat and when she lifted the hat the bunny wasn’t there anymore. I don’t know how she did it, but then she dropped the hat to the ground, made a big show of it too, like she’d tripped but not really, and then she picked up the hat from the ground and there was the rabbit!” Little John can’t quite choose what his first amusement will be. There’s so many, and they all promise tons of excitement. Then, near to the end of the park, he spies the one he hadn’t known he was looking for all along. Step Inside, If You Dare! The letter sign announced. He’s always liked those old B-horror movies, with the fake blood and all. His father made his best not to let him watch them. He thought they were unbecoming for a child, said those movies were all depravity and wickedness. But Little John was smart. His parents couldn’t know what movies he watched at the library. Until they did, and he was forbidden from returning to the library. Still, they weren’t here now were they? At the entrance there stood a man in a suave three-piece suit, a wide grin and bone white teeth. “Ah, young man, I see that you dare enter into my house of horrors! Be warned, never before have you, or will you, experience such fear as the one you’ll feel once you’re inside. Vampires will battle for a chance to dip their fangs into your neck. Werewolves will try to show you their sharp claws and rip your guts out from inside of you. Pretty ladies will entice you with their looks, and only too late will you be able to tell they aren’t ladies at all, but horrifying monsters of the night. Are you sure you’re up for the challenge?” It was like the man had read his mind and created this one amusement for him alone. Of course Little John was ready. You might even say his whole life was leading up to this moment. He nodded. “Then go get your parents and step right inside.” Color blanched from Little John’s face. “My parents?” “Well, of course. Is this your first time in our humble amusement park? Don’t you know the rules?” The man’s question was met with silence. “You can’t go into the amusements if you’re not accompanied by at least one of your parent’s.” “But… my parents aren’t here. I came alone.” “Well, you shouldn’t have. Young man like yourself can’t just walk around in the night without his parents. What if something happens to you? Park policy. I can’t let you in. I’m sorry.” His parents found him walking aimlessly down the road, his face struck in tears. They beat him mercilessly to ensure he would never again run away from home. The Amazing Victor Steele Amusement Park hasn’t been seen around that area since.
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 18:22
|
|
|
Thranguy posted:Speaking of flash rules, I'll take one Your story must be a comedy, dark or otherwise.
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 19:05
|
|
|
Sham bam bamina! posted:gently caress it, flash. steeltoedsneakers posted:Actually, me too pls mojo.
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 20:01
|
|
|
Sham bam bamina! posted:gently caress it, flash. your main character is a scary clown
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 20:27
|
|
|
In.
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 21:40
|
|
|
sebmojo posted:your main character is a scary clown lmbo at your new av
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 22:14
|
|
|
In.
|
|
#
?
Oct 17, 2017 23:28
|
|
|
derp posted:now you get two >: ] what was that? you want to enter and have a brutal flash rule? but of course, I live to serve. in and  none of your characters are able to understand each other
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2017 05:10
|
|
|
Ho boy
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2017 05:53
|
|
|
Week #258 - Bad Crits 1 and 2 - Part 1 of 2 (Appropriately) And the Cure by big scary monsters Plot: Narrator is a pretentious jerk poisoner. A guy walks in looking for a cure for an incurable poison, and ends up purchasing one assisted suicide. The narrator does not change. Thoughts: You spend a lot of time setting up this character, his profession, and the scene of the shop. This is done competently enough, but also at an opportunity cost. The plot takes forever to actually advance; it takes 3 large paragraphs (408 words) to go from "guy enters shop" to "what he actually wants." The narrator takes this as an excuse to continue to goes on and on about himself. In the end, this isn't a story, it's just a character study. This could work if the character was more than a jerk, but he's pretty much just a jerk who kills people for money and that's it. He faces no real threat, so there's no tension, is in no danger of changing, and the only thing that carries this story is decent prose. The Parent by Mrenda Plot: Sarah, Brynn, and Roisin leave a pub and walk to his house. Sarah takes care of drunks like Roisin. Then Roisin takes care of her and a kid the next morning. Thoughts: There's a lot of focus on the setting. Sarah is contrasted as a clearly older and more mature student than Roisin, regretting past decisions, and taking care of drunks. This maturity is seemingly reversed when Rosin takes care of her kid, or perhaps not. I'm not entirely sure what this story is about. The possible contentment of children? Hope in finding relationships? There's a lot of words spent, but not a ton happens. So much of the story is spent on the escapades of a single night, but that night isn't the big story. It's an excuse to toss in backstory about Sarah, and set up a contrasting character. But what have either of them learned? I don't know. I lean towards thinking this is not the best scene to show of her life, or perhaps it needs to be one segment in a series of short scenes. I had a lot of trouble connecting with this story. Fire an--sorry. FIRE & ICE by Sokoban Plot: A bad thing happens, during a hack job. The protagonist has two options: become a virtual being on the net or, uh, do something really similar. Either mind-prison or mind-zombie. The guy calls ICE, who tries to help him, then dumps her brain because it's too late! FIRE catches him. The end. Plot, Shorter: Guy commits crime and goes to jail. Thoughts: I think a more powerful start is the protagonist's reaction to the bad thing, instead of 10 medicore sentences about how bad this thing is. It's bad! We get it. The all caps contrasts are possibly supposed to be symbolic of something more than "rock and a hard place" but I couldn't tell you what. This story takes a big bunch of tropes from Cyberpunk, such as Job Gone Bad, brains connected to the net, Big Bad freedom-hating entity (here, the government), Genius Hacker, etc. One problem is it doesn't do anything new at all with it. The tropes are just dumped on us en masse to no point or purpose. The character doesn't really learn anything. The plot ends exactly like the beginning tells us. The fact that the shorter plot summary is so succinct reveals how little is really going on. What was the point of this story? The Things Dora Fincher Doesn't Wish For by Thranguy I could have sworn I already crit this, but, uh, I guess I didn't? Well. Plot: Woman finds genie, considers wishes, and ends up reunited with a lost loved one. Thoughts: The simplicity of the plot is deceiving; this story carries a lot of weight with its arch, characters and ideas. I really liked this story, because it takes something everyone's done ('hey what would you wish for if...') but uses the hypotheticals to strongly establish the personality and life, in brief, of the character. The part about the really big wishes changing humanity into something unrecognizable and unintended consequences reminds me of Le Guin's The Lathe of Heaven, and I think is necessary to preserve the protagonist and allow the reader to accept the wish she chooses. The ending was surprising to me, but does two things: One, establishes the power genuine human connection. It does this in the last three lines, hitting the resolution and peak emotional resonance perfectly, and even in a thematically. Dora seeing her husband again and hearing their song one last time is foreshadowed appropriately and predictable enough. The second part I enjoy immensely, and didn't see coming. I think it taps into a human need--one I've certainly thought about--the yearning to know how things turn out, how the story of the universe ends. It parallels the ending of a single life/relationship with the ending of the species after a long journey. It's possible this story might be made stronger, perhaps with tweaks to the prose or a few sentences, but it's definitely publishable. There's a universality to the story, and its ending was immensely satisfying. There Are No Zombies in This Story by ZeBourgeoisie Plot: Couple abducted by demon-aliens for enslavement and breeding is mostly okay with both. Thoughts: The characters are exceptionally fake, the plot is dumb, and I really don't have much to say about this story except that it deserved its loss. If you genuinely don't understand why it's so distasteful, even after listening to the recaps, I can explain more, but I'm inclined to believe, much like a dog making GBS threads on the carpet, that you know what you did and it was bad. Part 2 tomorrow, probably.
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2017 06:39
|
|
|
I'm in. First time woooo.
|
|
#
?
Oct 18, 2017 19:49
|
|
|
If i tox do i get more words too
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2017 02:27
|
|
|
derp posted:If i tox do i get more words too hell yeah, if you the limit is 1250.anyone who wants even more words can earn them with like our horny handed forefathers, with crits critting a story from the last five weeks before entries close on Friday will earn you an additional 150 words, max 450
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2017 03:08
|
|
|
okay but i only need 1000 words, flash will be flash!
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2017 03:38
|
|
|
Week #258 - Bad Crits 2 and 1 - Part 2 of 2 Tap Tap by Phobia Plot: Woman hears knocking. It's her dead husband that she murdered. He comes in. She dies. Thoughts: This reminds me of one of those super generic campfire stories I'd hear as a kid, and there's not much more to it than that. It's a story about comupance and self-justification, but it doesn't say anything interesting about those things. She murdered her husband, then justified it, but we're never told why she did it. The ghost-Harold pretty much just does generically scary things, but we don't know what kind of person he is, or why any of this happened. It's predictable, and with no connection to the main character, it's hard to make the story scary. This is another story where the prose is fine, but the content is lacking. I didn't sign up to be married to a tree by flerp Plot: Wife turns into a tree (spoilers) and the husband thinks about cutting her down Thoughts: This is a story about emotional truths, where the problems of the wife being a tree are stand-ins for things like cheating (explicitly), two people unable to communicate properly, two people falling out of love (and one leaving), and regretting a loved one dying. It's solid, and we feel the frustration from the main character. It conveys the difficulty of trying to understand human connection. I've mostly just told you a bunch of stuff you already know about the story, probably, so yeah this is also a good story, and another that wouldn't be out of place in a publication. Match by Chili Plot: Couple goes to a museum. There's a microscopic statue with moving dancers. The couple replaces those dancers. Thoughts: Match has a double meaning. This is a story about a troubled couple finding redemption through time together and dance, and through observing another couple that has, I guess, figured poo poo out. I felt like the introduction didn't have much to do with the rest of the story. "You want to tell me what's wrong?" I think is where the core of the story starts. I felt like we needed more about the couple's relationship, though lines like "just like Dr. Goldberg recommended" do a good job communicating a lot of history in a short line. I'd cut sections of the trip through the museum too, and just focus on the exhibit that changes their relationship. Even there I'd cut, and just zoom in on the message of honesty and vulnerability and the couple's chance to try it. If you're going to keep a longer museum tour, I think you need more symbols that parallel the couple's relationship in some way and help tell their story. The match itself is a nice symbol with strong surrounding imagery. The ending is solid, and the strongest part of this piece, but too little of the story serves it. This Town Ain’t Big Enough by Third Plot: Woman finds doppelganger from alternate reality. They talk, and she leaves for another different reality in the chain. Thoughts: This story is about feeling like you don't have a place in the world, like you're the odd one out, like you don't have genuine connections with your fellow humans, and like you're not wanted. It builds it's different reality with a quick aside on lightning-junkies, and her alernate reality self that actually likes the practice. Through that, it pairs the depression the protagonist feels with a sort of hope. It's a straightforward, solid piece overall. AJ is well characterized and is easy to connect with. There's symbols to find meaning in, and parallels to our own lives to draw. A Divide by super sweet best pal Plot: Two halves of a kingdom have this mediator and, uh, they both just really want him to feel bad about whatever he does so he calls them jerks and leaves. The end. Thoughts: Right, this one. Um. This is a long windy world-buildy premise, but you've built a world that doesn't even make sense. Everyone's a jerk to this guy for no reason. The entire world is build so they need a mediator, but then mediators are not even necessary, so... There's just not much here. I'm kind of surprised this didn't DQ. If you actually do turn this into a real story and want feedback on that, let me know.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2017 03:43
|
|
|
Much obliged, UP.
|
|
#
?
Oct 19, 2017 06:53
|
|
|
Now that I'm done with midterms and I took my lumps, let's try this again, properly this time. In. Same toxxes as last time. I'll take a flash and hope to break the streak.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2017 02:47
|
|
|
I'll myself this merry-go-round
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2017 03:06
|
|
|
Flesnolk posted:Now that I'm done with midterms and I took my lumps, let's try this again, properly this time. Your flash is: Bearded lady.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2017 03:21
|
|
|
Crits Ahoy, of the three late Belgium stories. Toadsmash, The Magical Horse of Legends Ward is an interesting choice of word, not necessarily in a good way. There’s an ambiguity between the uses as ‘person one is responsible for’ and ‘protective magical barrier’ that isn’t working in your favor, and that former use doesn’t seem to be quite right here. You’re also doing a lot of things with the language that are depersonalizing everyone the protagonist is interacting with-referring to them as a voice, or dealing with them in groups, and I don’t think it’s to any good effect. Early on this feels like a puzzle story, like we’re supposed to try to figure out what the protagonist is, exactly. (A horse that can become multiple horses? A bus or train?) We spend an awful lot of time getting to that first one, some kind of stretchable horse thing, before the actual story part of the story starts. And when it does start, it’s not exactly good, expecting a reader to sympathize with this horse after it’s at the very least caused serious injuries to dozens of people (mostly kids) because somewhere in the city a dog was hurting. Which apparently has never happened before in who knows how long. You know, there’s something to be done with this idea. But you can’t end it there. If the story went on, went through the consequences, had the horse speak up to defend its choices, maybe swerved into a courtroom drama or some kind of interrogation where you could dive deeply into the ethics of its actions, maybe that could get interesting. But what you have doesn’t get there. Fuubi, At least it’s not the French Ug, title capitalization. First off, why in the world is the Captain asking some random ensign for the situation rather than the First Officer? I’d think he’d have the general status and something specific like a damage report might be what the ensign would be better positioned to know. More importantly, though, is the point of view. For the first several paragraphs we’re firmly in a third-person limited from the captain’s viewpoint, but we suddenly get narrated a piece of information she wasn’t present for, (the first officer macking on the comms [not ‘coms’, by the way] lieutenant) which is a bit distracting. We’re getting too much character detail told directly, in general. And later we jump directly into the head of Hanlon. ‘head-hopping’ narration is almost always a bad choice. Ug, title capitalization. The other kind: military ranks used as titles take capital letters. Lots of spelling errors too. I could go on for pages about the various reasons why minefields in space just don’t make any kind of sense, but given the trollish if-you-gave-a-drat-about-these-people-the-joke’s-on-you ending (which would have been worse if the characters had enough substance to let someone give a drat about them) I won’t. magnificent7, It Could End Any Day Now The opening here is interesting, if a bit unsympathetic. And that feel runs through with the whole story, two awful human beings both well-drawn in both their awfulness and their humanity, in a way that creates some successful dark humor. A few technical errors here and there, (some involving dialog tags), but this is a fairly strong little piece. I do find it a little odd that she thinks that, after this guy has just confessed to being part of a criminal conspiracy to her, the only danger she’s in is of being dumped if the relationship goes wrong. If that blind spot is intentional, part of the joke, it needs to be landed on with a bit less subtlety.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2017 05:25
|
|
|
I am currently weak and vulnerable. Please let in and flash rule me.
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2017 09:23
|
|
|
In
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2017 09:32
|
|
|
Fumblemouse posted:I am currently weak and vulnerable. Please let in and flash rule me. When you think you've won but then someone no one cares about gets to decide and gives first place to the other guy
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2017 10:18
|
|
|
Julias posted:Evidently I need to find a way to get myself motivated. So I'm perma- this was not accomplished
|
|
#
?
Oct 20, 2017 11:56
|
|
|
in.
|
|
#
?
Oct 21, 2017 00:50
|
|
|
hey flerpo, you got an ETA on megabrawl judgment?
|
|
#
?
Oct 21, 2017 01:29
|
|
|
Sitting Here posted:hey flerpo, you got an ETA on megabrawl judgment? wednesday oct 25th i keep making them due right when it hits test season thats my bad
|
|
#
?
Oct 21, 2017 02:04
|
|
|
In
|
|
#
?
Oct 21, 2017 05:09
|
|
|
 Entries closed! Write well you horrrible monsters.
|
|
#
?
Oct 21, 2017 07:55
|
|
|
Is it too late to ?
|
|
#
?
Oct 21, 2017 12:10
|
|
|
Sham bam bamina! posted:Is it too late to Nope!
|
|
#
?
Oct 21, 2017 20:42
|
|
|
sebmojo posted:
Lawns Mowed on Time 745 words “You’ve been working here for…” Jenkins shuffled some papers. “Fifteen years,” said Suzie. “That’s a fair while to work in one place,” he said. “Never thought of looking at other opportunities?” Suzie shook her head. “Not really, I’m pretty happy here.” He nodded. “Well, you might want to think about it now.” ~ “Well that sucks,” said Raven. Suzie shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. It’s not the first I’ve heard of companies moving to artificial lawns. Less upkeep.” “Is it really?” “Probably not,” said Suzie. “Millions of people walking through here every year, spilling their drinks, vomiting from rollercoasters, dropping their trash; they’ll probably be constantly replacing sections of artificial lawn. But hey, at least they won’t have to employ someone to mow them.” “It sucks,” said Raven. “It does,” said Suzie. “They’ve given me three months’ notice, so at least I’ll have time to find another job.” “You wanna go up?” Raven ran the Ferris wheel. Suzie didn’t really care for the faster rides; they tended to make her a bit ill. The Ferris wheel, though, was nice and relaxed, and it had the best view up the top. “Yeah, thanks,” said Suzie, smiling. She borrowed a walkie talkie and climbed in. After hours Ferris wheel chats with Raven were what she would miss most. The wheel turned, and she rode up to the top, chatting with Raven on the walkie talkie the whole way. Raven paused it for her up the top, and she gazed out at the park. From up here, she could see all the lawns. There was that many of them, it would probably take at least three months to rip them all up and replace them with artificial turf. ~ As it turned out, whoever oversaw the lawn replacement plan decided to rip up all the lawns at once. Suzie shook her head. If they’d done it a little at a time, it would’ve been better for the crowds. There was not one single patch of grass for people to sit and rest while they decided what ride to go on next, or to eat their packed lunch. Although, Suzie thought, it wouldn’t surprise her if the next ‘business move’ was to ban visitors from bringing food in, and make them buy it from the restaurants in the park. There wasn’t much for her to do, since they’d ripped up all the lawns, so she spent most of her time walking around the park, chatting to the employees. Well, most of her time was spent at or on the Ferris wheel. ~ She’d been called into Jenkins’ office again. “So, you may have noticed the artificial turf’s started to go down.” She nodded. “It’s a bit too long. Perhaps we ought to have double checked the length of the model we were getting, but the deal was too good to pass up.” “That’s a shame,” said Suzie. “We need you to mow it, once it’s laid.” Suzie looked at him. “You know, artificial turf’s not really designed to be mowed.” “You still work for us,” he said, “and if you want a good reference you’d better remember that.” Suzie shrugged. “Suit yourself. Want me to start now?” He nodded, and she turned and left. ~ She hadn’t bothered to tell Jenkins she had already been accepted for a new job. If she really cared about a reference, she might’ve bothered to explain why you didn’t mow artificial turf. Suzie worked on the lawns for a month and a half, because that was how long it took for Jenkins to look at one up close. “That looks rather strange,” he said. Suzie nodded. “They’re not really designed to be mowed.” He shook his head. “All right, I need you to stop mowing them.” ~ On the last day of Suzie’s employment, she went around to all the employees she knew well and said goodbye. She went to the Ferris wheel last. “Ride it with me,” she said to Raven. Raven got her assistant to man the wheel, and they both rode up to the top, chatting the whole way. “How about this view, eh?” said Suzie. Raven looked out, and chuckled. “Yeah, that’s spectacular.” The difference between the mown and unmown fake grass was visible even up there; the other thing that was visible up there, was that Suzie had mowed an unflattering message about Jenkins into the lawns, in twenty feet words.
|
|
#
?
Oct 22, 2017 14:26
|
|
|
sebmojo posted:what was that? you want to enter and have a brutal flash rule? but of course, I live to serve. Come One, Come All 915 words The only thing worse than the putrid hay scattered in Cuco’s tent was the ugly children. All day long they stumbled in, holding an icecream or a meatstick or cookie in one undeveloped hand, and blinking stupidly at him with watery eyes. And all day long he lunged at them, hands grasping and teeth gnashing, only to crash backward at the grip of his chain. If he made one of those wretched little freaks drop their cone or cookie and flee crying, it was a good day. A woman ducked in with Cuco’s meal--a loaf of bread, brick of cheese, a sausage, and a pitcher of beer, same as always--and set it on a wooden stool just within reach of his chain. She scurried back, but waited to watch him eat. Her eyes glinted with a kind of voyeuristic power that made Cuco furious. At least she was fully formed. He did not gag at the thought of eating food touched by her hands. He chomped the bread and cheese--saving a bit in his pocket for later, as usual--then poured the drink down his throat. “This beer tastes like water!” he howled at her, but she just stared. He threw the empty pitcher at her. She dodged, as usual. Cuco pulled at his chain after she’d gone but it was attached to some kind of perfectly flat stone and he couldn’t move it an inch. If he had something to wedge between the links he was sure he could pry them apart, but there was nothing like that in his smelly, hay strewn tent. Another child pushed through the flaps. Stupid, round face and bulging eyes. Miniature, pupa-like hands holding a stick covered in something puffy and pink. One deformed leg was supported by some metal contraption that dragged, scraping and clattering along the floor with each step. Cuco’s ears rang and his gut churned. His reactions demanded him to charge, hands clutching, arms stretching, toward the brat like he always did. But he held back. He clenched his jaw and hissed breath between his teeth as the mutant wretch stared at him with the most empty, glassy eyes Cuco had ever seen. The chain, the chain. Cuco vibrated with the desire to crush the idiocy out of the aberrant little grub’s face, but he held still. The chain, the chain, the chain. Cuco kept this mantra looping in his fuming mind. The chain! His fists shook and flecks of foam appeared at the corners of his panting maw. The child pointed at him and spoke, an incomprehensible mewling. “Come closer, just a bit closer,” Cuco rasped. “Closer.” But the thing just stared daftly and babbled on with the sound of a dying pony. Then it took a step--a step, god, a step!--toward Cuco. Its shrunken feet on maggot legs--one pudgy, one withered and clad in metal--shuffled, clicking and clacking, up to the red line that must not be crossed. The red line that measured Cuco’s reach. The red line that told Cuco exactly when he could reach. “One more step,” he hissed. The thing smelled of piss and sour milk, but he needed it closer. “Come over the line you little beast, one more step.” Then his red-fogged mind cleared for an instant and he remembered the heel of bread and nugget of cheese he’d saved. He took them from his pocket and tossed them just on his side of the line. “Come to the trap little mouse.” It came! One step, two. Foot over the line-- Cuco sprung, hurled forward and--snatch! The child dangled by its crippled leg from Cuco’s huge hand. It squirmed like a worm on a hook. It screamed and screamed, and Cuco grinned. He raised the little creature to his mouth, and bit at the cloth straps on its deformed leg. He grabbed the creature by the neck with one hand, and pulled the metal sheath from its leg with the other. “Yes!” Cuco tossed the child like a moldy fruit and wiped his hand on his shirt. He bent to his chain and jammed one of the metal poles of the child’s brace between the links. He wedged it against the ground and levered with all his weight. Crack, clink, clatter, free! He threw his fists up and roared, then charged at the slice of light between the tent flaps. He leaped over the child crying on the floor, and burst out into day. Sunlight tingled on his face and he blinked, dazzled. Strange music and the clatter and groan of machinery filled the air. He smelled cooked meat and sweets, but also poo poo. Animal poo poo and sour child poo poo and vomit and hay--hay everywhere. Murmured jabbering floated up around him on all sides--and getting closer. He rubbed at his eyes and the view came into focus. Children squeezed around him like a squirming mass of worms, edging in, reaching for him with drool-smeared hands. Every vacant eye pointed at him. Every slack mouth breathed toward him. And beyond the crowd were still more. Children on horses and donkeys, children in sickeningly colorful costumes, children holding small animals, children being lifted to the sky by strange contraptions, children dancing to bizarre, lilting music, children eating meat or fruits or chocolate and smearing it on their hands and faces and clothing all while staring directly at him. With a throat-rending howl, Cuco flung himself back into the tent and cowered on the floor beside his broken chain.
|
|
#
?
Oct 22, 2017 16:05
|
|
|
A Cop Worth a drat 745 words “Officer Medenville, the door is ajar.” my car told me as I opened the door to my hover-cruiser and prepared to jump down twelve feet. “The door is ajar.” it insisted while I leapt into the air. “The door is a-” My cruiser never got to finish its philosophical statement as the explosive drone slammed into it. As I fell through the sky I saw the last object my wife and I had bought together explode in a fireball of metal and past regrets. I landed on the ground and dove behind a large decrepit sign, the letters “WELCOME TO FUNCO LAND!” peeling off of it, and focused on the situation at hand. “Hah!” The punk laughed as he snapped off a few more shots. Parts of my car fell from the sky, catching one of the badly-aimed laz bolt shots. If you squinted hard enough you could make out a few shining pieces of light reflecting on metal through the smoke; An appropriate enough metaphor for my relationship with my ex. “Let the girl go.” I yelled, reminding myself why I was here. A domestic dispute turned bad plus one punk on too many drugs to list equalled a hostage situation. And just my luck the bastard had gone to Red-Town, off-limits to most cops. Luckily I wasn’t your average cop, I put lives ahead of regulations. The punk ignored my instructions and ducked behind a large animatronic dinosaur, dragging a poor girl with him. He started running towards the funhouse entrance, a few kilometres away, hoping to lose me. I rushed after him and a small part of my brain nagged at me that I didn’t have to be here. Maybe it was the fact that Wendy, my ex, had called me a few days ago. Told me now that the job was ending maybe we could meet up. Or maybe it was the bundle of paperwork that was my achievement for twenty-five years on the force. My career had taken over my life, Wendy will tell you that, but it hadn’t been exciting. Beat cop, walking the streets. Maybe I just wanted to go out with a bang, a heroic rescue; Feel like a cop that was worth a drat. When it became evident I wouldn’t catch up to the punk I pulled out my Walter-PP7 and pointed it at the funhouse. “Blast Mode.” At my command the Walter-PP7 wrapped itself around my arm and extended a good eight feet. The PP7, now looking more like a cannon, let out a slow whine that grew in intensity. I aimed at the funhouse and once the whine hit max intensity I pulled the trigger. My feet skidded across the ground as a large blue blast of electricity shot out of the gun, air rushing past the beam, and hit the funhouse. The funhouse exploded, denying the punk his escape. “The girl!” I yelled and ducked behind an old bumper car. “My partner is coming with backup. Come out and give the girl and you can walk away from this whole thing.” The punk stepped out from behind a giant animatronic dinosaur, his long white hair billowing around him. Christ, he looked more like a woman than a grizzled , drug taking punk. He was dragging a small girl ahead of him, using her as cover. On her head was a visor and I realized she was stuck in VR space. I stepped out and motioned for the girl with one hand while I unholstered my backup pistol, an old school Ruger, from behind my back. “I don't believe you.” The punk said and raised his laz pistol. I’m not a good poker player, my partner was twenty minutes out, which is why the punk probably called my bluff. What I am is a good shot. The punk snapped a shot off at the same time as I pulled out my Ruger and aimed it. A second later I fired and the punk’s head snapped back in a bloody mess. the girl loosened from his grasp; her VR headset was still on, playing her sweet dreams of summer. “The girl was safe.” I thought as the gun fell from my hands. I was a drat hero. The world turned cold; I looked down and noticed the large hole in my chest and the ground rose up to meet me. I thought about Wendy. I said I was a good shot; never said I was fast. Flash Rule: I must include two anime tropes Tropes: Big loving Beam Gun (Psycho Pass inspired) Bishonene white haired male
|
|
#
?
Oct 22, 2017 17:17
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 16, 2024 07:06 |
|
|
A Trip to Mythmania 994 Words Terry’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he raced between the trees, the knowledge that his tormentors weren’t far behind him spurring him on. He was well past the point of exhaustion, his breath was wheezing in and out of his lungs and the stitch in his side felt more like a cluster of angry hornets. Still, he ran on. Down the steep hill, his feet barely able to keep up with the speed. He wasn’t sure he could stop if he wanted to at this point. And he most assuredly did not want to. Not with Chad and his goons intent on beating him to a pulp. First day of high school and I’ve already pissed off Chad loving Thompson “We’re gonna kill you for making us chase you!” The voice was close. Too close. ”Gonna…loving…kill you!” His companions joined in the shouting and threats. Terry’s eyes were focused on his feet, but he risked a glance behind him. They had slowed almost to a stop about twenty yards away and were just staring in shock. One of them, short with dark hair in long spikes, started laughing. What? The ground leveled out without warning, sending him reeling forward, arms pinwheeling to catch his balance. He looked up and saw an old, weathered fence rising up from the earth in front of him. Faded, but still garish, paint depicted a clown-hatted cyclops grinning like a fool and “Mythmania” in crazy lettering. He had no time to process this as he slammed headlong into the fence with all the momentum of his flight down the hill and crashed through as the old wood cracked and snapped around him. He went down hard, tumbling through the dirt, leaves, and splintered remains of the fence until he was brought up short by a wood and steel structure. He rose to his feet, leaning against the structure. His eyes had trouble focusing. He tried to move, to run, and fell back onto what he now saw was the platform base for a carousel. He blinked once, twice, then everything came back into focus. He was in some kind of abandoned amusement park. He was lying on the floor of a brightly colored carousel, populated with horses, centaurs, hippogryphs, chimeras, and other fantastical creatures. One of the horses looked particularly inviting to him. The colors and molding making it seem to come alive in his mind. He knew this horse. It was his horse. As he took this in, he heard voices from the direction he’d come. He raised his head and saw Chad and company ducking in through the hole he had made in the fence. They gazed around in amusement. Chad had a long hunting knife out and smiled when he saw Terry looking at him. “We’re going to carve our names on your rear end, kid.” His friends laughed at this, but Chad wasn’t laughing. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. Even the anger was gone. The carousel started up as he finished speaking, followed by tinny, generic carnival music from all over the park. The machine lurched a few times, then settled into a smooth clockwise rotation, the animals moving gracefully up and down their poles. Terry heard the goons shouting in surprise, but it made sense to him. A distant part of him thought that perhaps the head wound was more serious than he thought. But, no…the pain of that wound was already receding, and the exhaustion was bleeding away from his limbs. He knew that, at this moment, he could run all day if he needed to. But he didn’t want to run. He wanted to get on his horse. He made his way through the other creatures and stroked the mane of his horse. He was not surprised when he felt the coarse hair of a stallion beneath his hand. “You think starting up this thing is gonna save you?” footsteps on metal as Chad climbed on the platform. He was whistling along to the carnival theme. Chad’s companions weren’t quite so at ease with the situation. They had come no closer and were glancing at the exit. Terry mounted his horse. Akaemon. The horse’s name is Akaemon. Everything changed in an instant. The pole melted away, flowed through the air, and coalesced as a long spear in Terry’s hand. No surprise. This was as it should be. As it should have always been. He lowered the spear and wheeled his horse around to face Chad, feeling almost one with the beast. He savored Chad’s wide-eyed look of shock and panic, followed by agony and confusion as the spear took him high in the chest. Then Akaemon’s shoulder struck him and flung him aside as he rushed by, the sounds of his bones breaking audible over the music. Chad would terrorize no one else. Akaemon laughed and shouted a warcy as he leaped from the platform to ride the others down. He felt the flesh and bones of the short one giving way beneath his powerful hooves and reveled in it. The other ran for the exit, his legs pumping with the desperation Akaemon had felt earlier. He decided on mercy and allowed the human to retreat through the fence. The fence that was now whole and undamaged. Wait, that’s not right. How do I get out? Akaemon shook his head at the strange thought. He was home, of course. He trotted back to the carousel. Finding his spot, he planted the head of his spear into the base. The sun was shining, and it was a fine time for a nap. Just for a bit. Akaemon closed his eyes. Chad lay in the dirt, bloody and broken, the strange amusement park coming to life around him. He watched as the centaur began to move up and down on its pole, the eyes following him as it made its slow circuit. They were Terry’s eyes, and they were screaming.
|
|
#
?
Oct 22, 2017 17:26
|
|