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Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
I want to give this a go. I guess the worst that can happen is I get a new avatar.


Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010

Capntastic posted:

The worst that could happen is the post above yours, I think you'll come out clean.

What about if I write some hardcore pornography? I'm sure that will look good next to some fisting action.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010

SaviourX posted:

An action scene consisting of both fighting and fisting? At the same time, or..?

The ultimate BDSM!

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
Holy crap, there are a lot of good stories out there.

I spent from the 7th editing this and it has changed a lot! But it still feels really off.

Johnny - 856 Words

“What do you think of changing to med school?”

Trixxie picked out the right shade of rouge her makeup bag. “Love, you should have this worked out already.” Cassy snorted as Trixxie retouched the vibrant pink to her cheeks. She opened up a draw from the big french dresser and threw her application forms in. If she did finally decide to go she didn't want to risk a customer messing them up.

“Gorgeous. Try not to let the customers come all over your face like that Cassy, it’s a real pain in the rear end to fix up.” Trixxie rose to leave.

“Where is that loving bitch?”

Cassy turned to the door from her seat as she heard the slurred voice carry up the stairs. “Who is that rear end in a top hat?”

“It better not be who I think it is,” Trixxie moaned as she fumbled around her bag. Little beads of sweat starting to appear at the crown her head.

Dull clomps reverberated throughout the building as the man with the slurred voice trudged upwards.

“Yeah, call the police. I just know they’ll rush to your rescue.”

The door slammed open. At the frame were two girls franticly tried to pull the hulking brute back down as a third was quickly dialling emergency services. His face pulled into a vicious snarl and without a word began to walk towards Trixxie.

“Johnny, so nice to see ya.” Trixxie began, her face scrunched in disgust at the smell of the wild man. She took a step back still rustling with her bag. “Glad to see you can still walk straight after what smells like a vat of metho.” Cassy rose and stood behind Johnny.

“Yeah, that smart lip of yours. Always flapping.” Cassy gasped in horror as Johnny pulled Trixxie close by the scruff of her hair. “Stop it!” She screamed, thrashing the brute in the back with her fists in vain. “Don’t you hurt her!”

With a sharp kick to the gut, Cassy dropped to the floor. Bringing her knees up to her chin in absolute agony she could do nothing as Trixxie was slammed against the wall. “Big man Johnny, beating a poor little gal like me.” She spat, blood tinged spittle ran down Johnny’s face. Johnny’s bloodshot eyes bulged.

With a roar, Johnny threw Trixxie clear across the other side of the room. A sickening crunch reverberated through the room and the contents of her handbag spilled from the sky. Condoms, makeup and something shiny dispersed across the room. Cassy clearly heard it land with a dull thud behind her.

There was no longer any smart lip from Trixxie. Johnny furiously pummeled the body of Cassy’s friend, eliciting low moans from her. No more ‘smart lip’ was coming from that direction anymore. Tears rolling down her face, Cassy watched as the two girls fled. The third was still pleading on the phone for help. Cassy rolled over in defeat.

And then she saw it. A tiny revolver was staring at her right in the eyes. Grabbing it in both hands, she slowly stood up.

“Stop...” Cassy called out, still winded from the kick to the gut. Johnny didn’t even turn around; just continued to kick the fallen woman in front of him. Gun raised in her hand and more strongly this time, “I’ll shoot!”

Johnny roared with little veins on his neck rising, “You won’t even get the safety off you little slut!” He took a step towards Cassy, leaving Trixxie to cry meekly where she was left. She brought her legs in closer just as Johnny cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

“Don’t make me do this,” Cassy begged. Tears ran down her face as the gun was razed to eye level. The distance between the two shrank. She put pressure on the trigger; yet it wouldn’t go back.

“It’s the little nobbly bit on the side,” Trixxie gasped through Johnny’s laughter. Frantic fingers raced along the side of the revolver. He was close now, barely a step away.


“Shoot!” Trixie cried. Sweat dripped from Cassy’s head as the trigger pulled back. She felt Johnny’s hands fall over her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Cassy apologised as the crack of a gunshot reverberated throughout the room.


All three of them fell to the floor. The gun first, tumbling gently before clattering on the timber flooring. Than Johnny, hands to his chest as blood slowly seeped from the wound. Finally, Cassy to her knees openly weeping.

Trixxie crawled over to where the gun was laying. It was the first chance Cassy had to look at her, blood wept a large gash on her forehead and one of her arms was hanging limply by her side; yet she still had the same look of determination on her face she always did.

Revolver in hand, she pulled back the hammer, aimed and fired. Cassy flinched as a section of Johnny’s head exploded out. Blood and viscera covered the floor.

Cassy wept. With a listless smile, Trixxie tossed the gun aside and put Cassy’s head in her lap. Cassy grabbed Trixxie’s waist and shuddered in grief. “Thank you,” Trixxie softly whispered in her ear.

Lord Windy fucked around with this message at 14:33 on Feb 10, 2013

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010

supermikhail posted:


vvv Not trying to be offensive, but are you by any chance dyslexic? Doesn't really look like you've proofread that a lot, otherwise.

Me? I don't think so. I hope it wasn't that bad.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010


Lord Windy – Johnny

As above.

ninja edit: I can't help myself.

Prose editors use a technique called 'reading literally' to help determine whether your writing is good or not.



LOL, thanks for the crit. I didn't realize my spelling was that atrocious.

Do you know of anything online that I could read in terms of reading literally? I tried googling it but I'm getting nothing but "why not to read the bible literally" or "literary technique" if I aid technique or writer to the end.

EDIT: I can't see where my spelling is atrocious. I found three spelling mistakes in pummelled, arsehole (I find I say rear end rather than arse so I spell it rear end in a top hat instinctively. Not a defence, it's something I need to fix.) and knobbly. Other than "anymore" or "makeup" which I think are acceptable (happy to be corrected) I can't find any others.

Were they the main ones or have I missed a million little ones?

Lord Windy fucked around with this message at 11:27 on Feb 11, 2013

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010

Well, I think I have worked out what happened.

Thanks for the blog!

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
I'm in, this is exciting :D

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
Hey Echo Cian, would you be able to say what GMT the submission date is? EST to me means GMT+10

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010

Lord Windy posted:

EST to me means GMT+10

EST is my timezone for Australia. Also I dun know where Echo Cian lives.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
I want to give this a go, I am in.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
The Centre
Words: 967

“The Customer isn’t angry at you,” Simon recited the words on his screen. “The Customer is angry at the situation.” He looked at the queue on the machine next to him - fifth in line. He leaned back into his office chair and let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he could make it until his next break before a call would come in.

A ding came from computer. The company instant messenger popped up with a message from Amy. “How is your first day back?” She wrote in the same purple comic sans she used three months ago. “No problem customers I hope!”

“No, it has been a fairly easy day so far. Just waiting for the next call actually,” he wrote back.

“That’s great, I’ve got a real bitch. Isn’t listening to me at all.” Simon’s name crept up the queue. Third in line.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Only one person in front now. Simon leaned back into his chair when the ding from the computer went off again.

“Won’t. Going to escalate instead.” Simon felt his chest tighten; he was next in line.

“Australia. English,” the friendly female voice-over signalled the start of the call. “Thank you for calling Senior Technical Support,” Simon greeted automatically, hoping that the little cracks in his voice would go unnoticed. “You’re speaking with Simon, how can I help you?”

“Hi, this is Amy from Technical Support.” Her voice was rich and cheerful, almost as if a huge smile was coming through the other end. Simon knew that didn’t necessarily mean she was. It was easy to obscure the faces you were making with a sickly sweet tone.

“Fancy getting you.” The notes of the case sprung up on the screen. Amy had been right, the customer was not an easy one. Twenty calls in the past week, with every call noting her difficulty.

“Yeah…” There was no hint of the tone she had before. “Look you can see the notes and you know this woman is difficult. It’s your first day back after… would you like me to hang up and try again?” A sad emoticon showed up on the IM.

The blood in Simon’s ears pounded. “No, I think I will be ok. Bring her through.”

“Thank you for holding Mrs Smith.” The sickly cheerful tone was back. Oozing with that ‘smile’ all phone agents reserved for the worst customers. “I leave you in the capable of hands of Simon, one of our Senior Support Specialists.”

“Good!” The woman’s voice made Simon hunch his shoulders. “It is about time I’m shown respect around here.” It conjured an image of an old crone with a perpetual snarl.

“Good afternoon Mrs Smith,” Simon replied, trying to force a smile he didn’t feel down the line. “What can I do for you?”

“You mean she didn’t even tell you what I was calling about?” Simon flinched from the verbal slap. “She didn’t even have the decency to tell you why I was calling? What kind of clowns work here?

“Amy expressed to me a desire to get with you as soon as possible to smooth over any difficulties.” Anything he could do to keep control of the call.

“Well my phone doesn’t work!” Mrs Smith bellowed. If she got any louder they wouldn’t need the phone anymore. Simon could feel his heartbeat in his ears.

“I am very sorry to hear that Mrs Smith, it is not fair that a one…”

“Of course it’s not fair, what are you slow?” Simon’s mental image of Mrs Smith now included her having bulging veins on a beetroot face. “One thousand dollars, one thousand dollars for this brick. If I knew what I was getting…”

Simon’s heart race covered the sound of her bellowing. He hit the hold button and threw his head between his legs. In through the nose Simon, he thought miserably. Hold for 5 seconds, and then out through the mouth.

Moments passed, and Simon was there. Sitting on one of the thick spindly tree branches of the cottonwood trees by the beaches of his youth. A safe place his psychiatrist had said. The breeze and crashing waves upon shore. The customer is not angry at you, he thought once more. The customer is angry at the situation.

The dinging of his computer brought Simon back to reality. “Are you ok?” Amy wrote. “Do you want me to call a manager to help you out?” Simon pulled up the keyboard and replied. “No, it is ok. I can handle this.”

“I am sorry Mrs Smith,” Simon took the ugly woman off hold. There was a pregnant pause, Simon couldn’t hear anyone else on the other end of the line.

“Well, come out with it. What is your excuse for this travesty of customer service.”

“There isn’t one,” There was no attempt to force the smile down the line this time. Instead, with a heavy relenting sigh he continued. “It’s just I have been in hospital for the past couple of months and I felt a little overwhelmed. I had to take a short break.”

“Oh,” Mrs Smith quickly replied. She sounded very awkward, as if she had made a mistake. “Did you want to get a drink of water?”

“I am much better now. Thank you for your concern Mrs. Smith.” Simon found breathing easier. “I am very sorry for the delay.”

“Well, that is ok dear.” Her tone was much softer now. “I was in hospital not so long ago myself.”

“Would it be ok if we started again?” Simon asked.


“Thank you for calling Senior Technical Support, my name is Simon.” There was no need to force a smile this time. “What can I help you with today?”

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
I'm in, is the flash rule to do a crit of a submission from the round Didja Redo won or is it for the round we are submitting in?

Lord Windy fucked around with this message at 01:47 on Sep 4, 2013

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
Hey Seb, can you give me a story to crit as well please.

Lord Windy fucked around with this message at 06:15 on Sep 5, 2013

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010


Michael tapped his foot in anticipation. He was getting out today. Three years in the joint because of a bad luck. This isn't necessary to the story, and doesn't add anything

He thought back on how They had staked out the shop for an hour before going in. They had barely seen anyone go in or out. It should have been an easy job. In and out in under 5 minutes. No one hurt, and then they’d have a couple hundred in cash for the weekend. I like this bit, but I don't need to be told that he is remembering it, you've made that clear by him getting out of jail today.

They had gone in hot, with their blades out. It was always best to go in with weapons out he reminisced. Again, I know he is thinking about what happened It kept everyone on their back foot. They’d never actually hurt anyone, it was about intimidation. Clerk had given up the register no questions asked. It was a chain store after all, not some mom and pop shop where the guy behind the counter cared about the money. Too much padding, just combine this paragraph with the last one.

Then it had all gone wrong. What were the chances that an off-duty cop that carried a piece would walk through the door right at that moment? If Nathan had been collecting the cash instead, he would have been the one to get busted. Nathan had been able to run past the cop before he could get his gun out. Michael had been the one behind the counter grabbing the cash out of the register. He’d had no chance to make a getaway.

Michael tapped his foot a little faster. Nathan wouldn’t be the one to pick him up today; he was doing a stint up state for drugs. Billy had said he was free though. He had just finished probation, so he was allowed to spend time with ex-cons now. I never meet Billy, so you don't need this at all. Story works just fine with David telling Nathan he would be picking him up

Hearing the guard’s voice call “Michael Stillwell?” stopped his foot tapping, and pulled him into the present. I don't like all this foot tapping. It doesn't add anything to the story except for padding

He stood automatically and confirmed his presence. Three years had ingrained this reaction in him. The gate to his cell opened, and Michael followed the guard down the corridor past the row of other cells. A fanfare of hoots and hollers that accompanied any prisoner being released echoed around him as he followed the guard down the catwalk. After the cell block it was through to a different holding cell, signing of paperwork, picking up what few belongings he had in storage, and then out to reception where Billy was waiting. This is just padding.

Instead of his friend Billy Nathan, Michael found his brother David waiting.

Right, pretty much everything above is just padding and I don't think it adds anything to the story. I get what you were trying to do with Wilde's quote, but the story you are trying for is a story of redemption. I would know just as much as I did if you kept the story at 'he got out after 3 years, oh look his brother is there!

Michael hadn’t seen or even spoken to David in over 5 years. David had gone off to college to study business, and Michael, whose grades had never been great, had hung around town. David had always been the rising star of the family to Michael’s black sheep act. As Michael spiralled downward, David’s fortune seemed to do the exact opposite. Before long, Michael wasn’t even bothering to go to family events anymore where all he’d hear was how David was doing so well. Stop telling me things. You wasted all this time on the unimportant information above and now you're forced to tell me rather than show any of this. This stuff is important

At that point, David looked up from his chair and saw Michael. The two locked eyes for a long awkward moment, neither knowing what to say. David was the first to break the silence “Hi Michael, long time no see.”

“What are you doing here? Where’s Billy?”

“I bumped into Billy the other day, and he said he was coming to pick you up today. I asked him if he’d mind if I came to get you. He didn’t, and so here I am.”

“Sure, whatever” Michael responded “Good to see you.” There are only two people here. Respond or replied is redundant.

“Ready to go?” David asked, and with a nod of agreement, Michael and David headed out to the parking lot and got into his car.

David lead Michael to his car. To Michael it looked like some generic over-priced import, but the engine started with a meaty purr that met his approval.

After a few minutes silence, Michael cut straight to what was on his mind “So what’s the deal? Why’d you pick me up today?”

David took a deep breath before responding “I’ve got cancer, Michael. It’s the inoperable kind. Doctor says I’ve got between three and six months.”

“I’m sorry, David, I didn’t know. That’s a bum deal.” Love this line. Exactly how I would imagine a chav would speak

David chuckled although there was no humour in it. “Yeah, a bum deal” David answered with an edge to his voice. Redundant

“Well, what do you want me to do about it? What’s this got to do with me?” Redundant

David shot back at him without missing a beat “I’m loving dying, and that’s all you can say? How about you pull your loving head out of your rear end and grow the gently caress up. Did you know that Mom and Dad are both in a home now?”

He was met with a blank stare from Michael that confirmed his assumption. “Of course you don’t. They don’t even know who I am half the time when I visit. Do you know how much it costs to keep both of them in there? Of course not, you’re too busy getting into trouble with your jerk-off friends.”

Michael sat stunned for a moment. He couldn’t recall having heard David ever speak that way before.

After a few moments of quiet, David continued in a more level voice. “I’ve done ok for myself, but work always got in the way of personal relationships. I never had much time for family and friends, and was never much of a brother to you. Sure I was home for holidays, but that was as far as I was willing to go. Looking back now, I can see my priorities were pretty skewed.” This is good, this explains why David is picking up his poo poo-head of a brother. He is dying and has realized family is important and not his success.

Ok, this is where the glimmer of a good story comes in amongst this. The problem you have is you're telling way to much and trying to add in more tragedy than necessary. Lets get rid of the parents, and make it entirely about David and Michael. David is the successful brother, but dying and full of regrets. Michael is the bad brother, somebody who David is trying to reconnect with.

Again, there was a pause, but this time it was Michael that broke the silence “Hey, I really am sorry about the cancer, and what’s been going on with mum and dad. I wish I’d known.” Again, no parents in this.

“I know you are Michael, and I know you do. This is ok Even if you did some dumb things, I truly think you always had a good heart. I’m kind of banking on it.” No you don't. Michael is a criminal and spent 3 years in prison after an armed robbery.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone’s going to have to look after mum and dad, Michael. I’m not going to be around, and that leaves you. I’ve tried talking to cousin Patrick, but he’s got his own problems. Mom was an only child, and Dad’s brother Luke died two years ago. Michael, if you can’t step up to look after mum and dad, I don’t know what’s going to happen to them. I know they weren’t perfect parents, but they did their best.”

“Yeah, they were always ok. Even when I was getting into trouble, they never gave up on me. They even visited me in jail when I first went in. I wondered why they stopped coming. I always thought it’s because they’d had enough.”

David sighed before answering “I should have come to see you myself, but with work and mum and dad going downhill, I just couldn’t find the time. It’s a lousy excuse, and I’m sorry I was a lousy brother. I need you to step up now, Michael. Mum and dad deserve better than some government housing or the street.”

Michael paused before answering. He considered David’s statement, and everything he’d learned that morning. Finally, with a quick nod and a hint of determination in his eyes, he answered.

“Yeah, they do.”
My problem with this bit, and the reason why I wiped it out is because it doesn't work at all. I care about David, not Mum and Dad who aren't in the story. Furthermore, it doesn't show him improving himself, or becoming the 'saint' in the Wilde quote.

I had a lot of trouble with this edit. The story has fundamental issues and requires a serious rewrite to fix it.

Your quote was: "Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future"

With how you are going in this story, you are showing that a sinner with a future. The problem is, instead of showing you are telling. What is worse, you've wasted a considerable amount of words on useless padding. What is good? You have the rudiments of a good idea and two characters that could be better.

Here is what I would do to fix this.

1. Cut out every other character except for David, Michael. The story should be between David, the brother who is dying and has the regret of choosing work over family (quite possibly with the hope that one day he could enjoy family if he worked hard enough) and Michael, the brother who might not realise it now but is regretting his choice of crime over family (you could say his parents died offscreen and he just didn't realise and isn't feeling anything).

2. Get a feel for 'scene' and 'sequel' when you write your scenes. I would pay attention to all of that article. I may not agree with it entirely, but the MRU (motivation-reaction) section would go far in making your scenes far more punchy and the Scene-Sequel will help give you direction.

3. Give us a crisis, the cancer is a good one. Both characters are full of regret, Michael's path to sainthood will be built on a foundation of working on David's regret. The sequel can be Michael cooking David dinner while they discuss the trip they are taking to Paris or the Grand Canyon. You'll be showing far more than telling us in that case. Sweet and simple.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
Metal Men
302 words

The back end of the ship had been blown open. The engines and storage were unsalvageable. Dozens of metal men had flooded into the cargo rooms. Lockers, cabinets and even the metal men had been shoved into every rend and breach. Others in yellow overalls with welders in their hands stood around sealed doors.

Life Support lay beyond the sealed doors. Metal men in yellow overalls, the same as before stood inside. Each had cables flowing directly into the large machines that lined the room. One of them, surrounded by bottles and open containers stood at an intake. In his hand was a canister labeled isoflurane.

Life support lead into a long hallway with three rooms on each side. Inside every room were two occupants. One, always radically different looking to the other, was a human strapped into their bed. The other was a metal man, hunched over their bodies.

An old woman with free flowing white hair lay in Room 4. Her eyes are open unlike the rest. She is frozen in place, with her hands on either side of the metal man’s head. The metal man had one hand gently on the side of her face. Fingers tangled in her hair. The other held a syringe in her neck.

Finally the bridge. A figure in a space suit is slumped at the helm, looking out to space. A syringe and an un-opened envelope lay next to the chair. Metal men were gathered at the figures side. They were looking at a blue screen.

The metal men, lightly covered in dust, who had gathered around it did nothing. They stood in silent vigil.


This prompt was really hard and it put me way out of my comfort zone. I think I'm going to get my story across with it, but after the crits come out I will be taking it to the fiction farm to fix anything broken with it. I like the story a lot and I had fun writing it, I just don't have the experience yet to know if I did it right.

Lord Windy fucked around with this message at 13:52 on Sep 8, 2013

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
WHy would it be? The deadline was up almost 5 hours ago

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
I don't get it. I'm sorry Zach, but his was just as bad as everyone elses. At first I thought this prompt was going to be fun. But all it produced was a pile of wank.

Didja, can you please explain what you wanted to see or how you would have gone about it?

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010

sebmojo posted:

Take it to Fiction Farm.

I'm asking about the prompt, not a crit on my piece.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
Thank you Didja.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
Yes, give us a prompt!

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
I'm in!

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
I like Jewish men, so I for one am happy God's chosen people are taking over.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
Do it with a rockstar - 269

You’re the best! Around! I think to myself. I’m rocking it out to a crowded audience, Nothing’s ever going to keep you down!

“Do you?” Came a voice from one of the stall in the bathroom. I hate working here.

“Do you wanna?” Same voice, just a little shriller.

“Do what?” This one was the next stall over. A tad more exasperated than me.

“Do it with a rockstar?”

Feet shuffled around and toilets flushed. Two young girls, younger than me pranced out over to the sinks.

“Do you wanna go home instead,” The one with red hair and shrill voice pouted. Flashing her eyelashes in faux sympathy as she washed her hands.

“My cats are all alone.” The brunette looked flushed and spoke quickly. She clutched her phone tightly. Even I could tell that was a weak excuse.

“And there’s a chicken waiting on the stove.” Red-head’s hands rose above her head dramatically.

It felt like minutes of Brunette just glaring at Red-head.

“Do you really want to go home Sarah?”

“No,” Sarah sighed. She pulled out her lipstick. Dark red goes well with her hair.

“Of course not,” Red head gave a big smile. She dried her hands and went about fixing up Sarah’s hair. “This will be a great story someday.”

Sarah left first. Red came out close behind, slipping me a twenty and giving me a knowing wink.

I smile back and pocket the twenty.

Where was I? You’re the best! Around!


I am the worst person, I completely forgot to add in my dedication.

Crabrock, you are an amazing person and have made possibly one of the best websites ever. I've had hours of fun on it and the mad libs are enormously entertaining. Kaishai, I am really grateful that you helped Crabrock like you did to complete this website.

Lord Windy fucked around with this message at 00:08 on Sep 16, 2013

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
IN: Dayboro, Queensland, Australia.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
Embers of Memory - 851 words

“Don’t look at me that way. There are plenty of other options. We could start going into Petrie or Samford.”

Ruby looked at me vacantly, she had been doing for that for the past hour. I knew she couldn’t judge me, she simply didn’t have the brain power to do so. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling she was silently saying ’wuss’. I reached down to pat her on the head. Her soft fur felt good against my fingertips.

The map of Dayboro was huge. It took up half the wall in the living room. Every single building in town was on it, and each one had a big red X upon it. Except for one, the Dayboro Crown Hotel. I felt my heart skip as I traced around the outline of the building.

“Well, the food is going to be spoilt there anyway. No power to the fridge remember?” I pointed to our petrol cans. “Not to mention we don’t need the fuel.”

She sat up and weaved her way through my legs. Head-butting my leg and purring.

“Alright, so the can food probably hasn’t spoiled. But you know I can’t go there. They are there, and I can’t face them. Let alone… you know.”

Ruby purred away at my feet. Apparently taking no heed to my ramblings.

“Some help you are.”

She meowed.


I crouched behind some shrubs. Behind me was the local medical centre, it was the perfect vantage point to scout out the front of the Pub. The windows were still broken. I’m not sure why, but I still expect someone to come fix it. Just like what would have happened before. I took out my binoculars and scanned the pub. All the doors on the building were closed. Something was hanging over the railings. I moved to get a better look.

A decomposing corpse hung over the railings. It was missing it’s head. It’s grey decaying flesh and the black blood surrounding it gave the impression of it hanging over for a long time, but the days where you could be sure were long over. The driveway to the right was clear of corpses.

You’ve done this before, dozens of houses during the worst of the epidemic. My head said be brave, but my guts clenched tight regardless.

I ran across the road and up the small driveway.


The beer garden was deserted. As usual.

As far as I could see, the area was basically untouched. Birds tweeted on the large fig trees, the green grass was waist high and going to seed. Other than leaf litter covering the tables and pavement, the place was almost pristine.

I walked softly past the leaves and down to the back entrance to the Crown. The thick wire door was built solid, hinged on giant metal poles that were driven into the concrete below it. The previous owner had told me it was to keep determined drunks out. To stop them from sneaking into the drink fridges. I chuckled under my breath and took out my leather-man. With the pliers I pulled back the bolt that kept the door shut.

I cringed. The door had squeaked open sharply. Moans emanated from the building. I took a few steps forward and looked inside the hotel and my heart sunk. Two figures were shuffling towards me. A small woman with bleach blonde hair and a larger man, his entrails sagging out where his pot belly used to be.

Tears started to fall down my face. I reached out to the woman with blonde hair, but pulled my hand back before she could bite down.

I turned back and locked the door behind me.


Ruby was lying in the sun. Presumably wating at the front door.

“I left you out,” I croaked, wiping tears away from my eyes. “Sorry”

She followed me in, meowing and carrying on as I walked into the living room. I watched her waltz over to her empty food bowl. The yowling wouldn’t stop until I filled it. But I had something else that needed to be done first. I grabbed one of the fuel cans I left in the living room and walked back out.

“Wait here, okay?”


It was dark by the time I got back home.

Ruby was giving me the dirtiest looks. She had picked up her food bowl and was using it to hit the side of the wall to gain my attention. I took it off her and finally filled it. She purred and ate the food.

I took a small photo off the map of Dayboro and smiled softly to myself. My mum and dad were hugging me outside of our pub. She had dyed her hair blonde for the first time and my dad wasn’t anywhere near as fat as he got. I smiled to myself.

I walked out to out patio and looked out at the horizon. An orange glow was settling into the background, and the smell of ash hit my nostrils. “Goodbye guys,” I said softly. “I love you.”

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
I'm in with 'The Last Resort'

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010

The battle between Sebmojo and Sitting here that is. If you don't like it, go gently caress yourselves!

Prompt: Powerful women and stilettos.

Words: 500max

Due Date: Saturday the 29th, 12PM Australian Eastern Standard time (GMT+10)

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010

Dr. Kloctopussy posted:

Kayfabe, yada yada. It's a three-round challenge. Windy is the warm-up, but also the tiebreaker if necessary. Your fellow first-week competitors, myself and Bad Seafood will be your judges for the real competitions, with the assistance of a top secret mystery advisor whose true identity is a secret to all. Even me. Bad Seafood won't tell me who it is.

An excellent idea!

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010

Lord Windy posted:


The battle between Sebmojo and Sitting here that is. If you don't like it, go gently caress yourselves!

Prompt: Powerful women and stilettos.

Words: 500max

Due Date: Saturday the 29th, 12PM Australian Eastern Standard time (GMT+10)

There is two hours left, however I did see that I said the 29th rather than the 28th so I'll extend the date forward a day if you guys need it.

Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
Ya'll a bunch of racists towards Australia time!!!!

(That is cool, I picked a weird time. I'll probably be asleep when you post your stories though).


Lord Windy
Mar 26, 2010
I'll do a proper crit tomorrow, but I'll give you my very first impression.

"Why is she wearing bags on her feet and drinking whisky with stones?"


"And I want an assistant like that when I'm rich. Would be really interesting."

Lord Windy fucked around with this message at 05:58 on Sep 28, 2013

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