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No Longer Flaky posted:In general what is the point of having these characters be ghosts? They all acted as if they were regular people anyways, there was no point to have them be ghosts at least in my opinion http://dbpedia.org/page/Munarv%C3%A1gr
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Feb 6, 2014 13:34
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Paladinus posted:For the record, I didn't want to miss that week, but it seems like the elements that I know something about are taken and I'm blank on all the fancy ones. I'd really appreciate it if somebody could hit me with a reasonable element and a flash rule. Just in case it went unnoticed due to high concentration of posts with a loser avatar.
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Feb 6, 2014 13:37
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Chairchucker posted:nuinely just does not understand the concept of humo drat. That was ice cold (and hilarious).
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Feb 6, 2014 14:08
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No Longer Flaky posted:horror lol
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Feb 6, 2014 14:38
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elfdude posted:My bad, can I have cesium? You can and do! Paladinus posted:For the record, I didn't want to miss that week, but it seems like the elements that I know something about are taken and I'm blank on all the fancy ones. I'd really appreciate it if somebody could hit me with a reasonable element and a flash rule. Palladium is a precious metal with quite a few interesting applications, so it should give you something with which to work. Your  Flash Rule is that your protagonist must try to overcome a loss. What type of loss it is and whether s/he succeeds are up to you.
Kaishai fucked around with this message at 15:15 on Feb 6, 2014 |
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Feb 6, 2014 15:13
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You watch Officer James chase Gus down the hallway and hope he catches him. The jerk messed up your opportunity to ask Molly to the dance. You enter the classroom and take your seat. You look over at the hampster and it seems to look back at you with disgust. Like you’re the stinky one. Then again, your armpits are kind of sweaty. You take a whiff and reel. It might be best to keep your arms down. You tuck them tight, burying your elbows into your ribs. The teacher works problems and calls to the class for answers. For once, you know them. You’d love to raise your hand and answer them, but are afraid of the stench escaping. It wouldn’t impress Molly much if you answered correctly but caused the room to be evacuated because of the stink. You keep your hand and head down. You doodle on your paper, thinking of the best time to approach Molly and ask her. “...Jake. Jake. Earth to Jake.” You come back to reality. The teacher is looking back at you. “Hi, nice of you to join us. Officer James is here to talk to you.” One of the boys says “oooooo” and the others laugh. You get out of your seat and hope you don’t look too much like a penguin with your arms clamped to your side. You step out into the hall with the officer. “I saw you talking to Gus earlier. You two friends now?” You shake your head. “No sir, he just was helping me up after he knocked me over.” “Helping you up? That little punk wouldn’t help a fly, much less you.” “He did sir. He knocked me over and said he was sorry. Did you catch him?” The officer shrugged. “Not yet. But I will. Somebody will squeal.” He looks off into the distance, and then suddenly back to you. “Hey, you don’t happen to know where here went, do you?” You think about all the clobbering that will be inflicted upon you should you give him up, and shake your head. “Ok, then get back to class. But if you remember something he said, you come find me. Two more strikes and he’s suspended for the rest of the year, and will be repeating this year again.” You go back into class and put your head down on the desk. The teacher never calls on you. Sometimes, you think she’s forgotten you’re even there. You think about Gus, and how he’s probably sitting at Don’s Donuts, eating an old fashioned or eclair. Or, god forbid, a chocolate donut with sprinkles. It wasn’t fair that he should get to ruin your day and then have a great day of his own. Maybe you should tell the officer. If what he said was true, it’s not like Gus would be around school much longer to clobber you. Perhaps word would spread that you freed from his tyrannical grip. No more pushing to the front of the water fountain line, no more blazing fast throws in dodge ball, no more looking at the dark shadow over his lip and feeling inadequate at your golden peach fuzz. You’ll be a hero. Gus was a menace, and deserved to pay for his crimes. Do you Go tell the officer where Gus went or Realize that Molly won’t want to go to the dance with somebody with two black eyes crabrock fucked around with this message at 18:29 on Aug 4, 2014 |
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Feb 6, 2014 16:43
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This robot challenges chairchucker to a brawl. Bring it bitch.
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Feb 6, 2014 16:47
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You can’t abide sitting here, miserable, knowing Gus is eating a sugary concoction of heavenly delight. You raise your hand and wave it in the air. The teacher doesn’t call on you. “Oh, Oh,” you say, trying to get her attention. Finally, she rolls her eyes and looks at you. “What?” “I have to go talk to Officer James.” The girl in front of you sniffs at the air. “Mrs. Bennet, something stinks real bad.” “Suzy, you’re interrupting. Jake, go see the school officer and then come back and clean out the hamster cage.” You grab the hall pass and shuffle out of the room. Officer James’ office is little more than a broom closet. The walls are covered with posters warning against the dangers of drug use and sex. He swivels in his chair and clicks his pen, throwing it on the desk. “What can I do you for?” You swallow. “I think I remember where Gus said he was going to go.” Officer James leans forward. “Oh yeah?” “He said he was going to go to Don’s to get donuts.” “I see. Anything else?” “No, that’s all he said.” Officer James reclines in his chair and locks his fingers behind his head. “And you just happened to remember this?” “Yes?” “Well, Don’s isn’t too far away. Guess I could go grab him, but I’ve got my eye on you. Get out of here.” You hurry down the hall and duck into the bathroom. You wet a paper towel and rub it under your arms until you can’t smell them anymore. Maybe your mom wasn’t too far off giving you that stick of deodorant for your birthday. You walk back into the classroom with your head held high. Soon all the kids would know that you freed them from the scourge of Gus. Molly would swoon and the boys would invite you to sit at their table. A rubber eraser hits you right in the nipple. “Stop staring at me like weirdo, weirdo!” says Chauncifer, the rich boy that smells like cheese. The class laughs and you realize that you’re under cheese boy on the social totem pole. You glance at Molly, but she doesn’t seem to be paying attention. You hurry to your seat before you call any more attention to yourself. At lunch you clean out the hamster cage like Mrs. Bennet told you, and watch Molly out the window. She’s all alone, but your hands are covered in piss-scented cedar chips. There will be no time to ask her to the dance today, and decide you’ll do it tomorrow. It has to be tomorrow. Friday You eat a healthy breakfast, kiss your mom goodbye and head to school. You’ve made sure to wear your nicest sweater and make extra sure that your part is perfect. Not one stray hair today. You ride your bike through the park, watching the squirrels jump from branch to branch. Birds search through the grass for bugs, and dew flies up from the wheels of your bike when you cut corners through the lawn. You slow down when you reach town. Don’s Donuts is ahead. You peak through the window and see Gus sitting at a back table, working on homework. You laugh and keep riding at a slow pace. You wonder if word has spread about Gus’ impending suspension, and if you’ll be lauded as a hero yet. You’re so wrapped up in your fantasy that you almost miss Molly’s bus passing. You manage to catch a glimpse of her resting her head against the window, lost in a book. The bus turns a corner and disappears. Something that feels like a sack of bricks knocks you from your bike. You roll in the wet grass and jump to your feet. Gus stands across from you and puts his fists up. “You ratted me out to the fuzz,” says Gus. “What? No I didn’t.” “The pig told me it was you. Now you’re gonna pay.” “Wait, wait!” But Gus does not wait. He runs at you and hits you square in the face with his oversized fists. You fall to the ground and he jumps on top of you, swinging away. Your dad always told you in this circumstance it was ok to defend yourself, but your mom said all violence is bad. You see your bike helmet laying on the grass next to you. Do you Pick up the bike helmet and bash Gus in the face or Listen to your mom and hope he’ll be done soon crabrock fucked around with this message at 07:11 on Aug 4, 2014 |
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Feb 6, 2014 17:01
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Somebody slap me upside the head with a flash rule.
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Feb 6, 2014 17:02
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inthesto posted:Somebody slap me upside the head with a flash rule. Aluminum is commonly used in aircraft. Aircraft must figure significantly in your story. Echo and Sitting Here, I read your stories. I need to think on them and re-read them a few times. I'll give you my decision in the next couple days.
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Feb 6, 2014 17:16
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inthesto posted:Somebody slap me upside the head with a flash rule. The Flash Rule the judges will hold you to is this: Cultural differences between America and England must play a part in your story. Fulfilling Martello's rule may be worth bonus points, but only if you do it well. Choose wisely.
Kaishai fucked around with this message at 17:34 on Feb 6, 2014 |
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Feb 6, 2014 17:29
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In with Polonium.
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Feb 6, 2014 18:19
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No Longer Flaky posted:This robot challenges chairchucker to a brawl. Bring it bitch. Nah.
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Feb 6, 2014 19:51
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Chairchucker posted:Nah. Hey Flaky, if CC is being a big baby, I'm always down for a rematch.
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Feb 6, 2014 20:03
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Chairchucker you plebeian schmuck, accept his challenge like a gentleman!
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Feb 6, 2014 20:15
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Chairchucker posted:Nah. Whatever bitch. God Over Djinn posted:Hey Flaky, if CC is being a big baby, I'm always down for a rematch. I'm down to clown. Let's do this!
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Feb 6, 2014 20:18
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No Longer Flaky posted:Whatever bitch. Thunderbrawl: No Longer Flakey v God Over Djinn Some people who have read a lot of my writing know I'm all about DREAMY DREAM DREAM THINGS and the dreams they happen in. So. You both have 1500 words to tell me a story about dreams encroaching upon reality. This can be genre fic, but doesn't have to be. Due date: Thursday, February 13th at 11:59:59 PM, PST Go.
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Feb 6, 2014 20:38
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbU3zdAgiX8
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Feb 6, 2014 21:11
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Chairchucker posted:Nah. The clouds above part with heavenly rays while Chairchucker sits in his computer chair, surfing the web. Mercedes reaches down from above, nary a thing on his body but wisps of clouds covering his most gibbly of bits. With a hand outstretched, Mercedes caresses Chairchucker's face and whispers to him, "Brawl me instead. Think of the children and delinquents who have naught a story to read," Mercedes says, inexplicably growing wings. "Think not of this as a competition, nay fair Chucker of thine Chairs. This is a union. Between two pens, intertwined to write the most glorious stories this dome has ever read! What sayeth you?!" A tear rolls down Chairchucker's face, sparkly against Mercedes' dazzling glory. What will Chairchucker say? What can he say?
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Feb 7, 2014 02:52
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Twenty-four hours remain for anyone still considering sitting at the periodic table. Among the great elements that haven't yet been claimed: platinum, neon, titanium, potassium, nickel, chromium, radon, zirconium, and iridium.
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Feb 7, 2014 05:18
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No again because: a. I'm lazy. b. I think brawls are dumb.
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Feb 7, 2014 06:59
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gently caress it, I'll take osmium.
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Feb 7, 2014 07:27
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"Shunned, were you?" said Entenzahn, leisurely sucking on his pipe. Wafts of shag tobacco smoke permeated the room in which we had received our most desperate client yet. "How did you know?" cried Mercedes. The look of surprise on his face was one that I had seen all too often on people who weren't accustomed to my friend's singular observation skills. "Your swollen red eyes leave me to deduce that you have suffered great heartbreak. As I have done my research and know that you are without friends, writing contests on the internet being your only form of human contact, it stands to reason that you were unexpectedly derived of this experience. This is further supported by the worn spot on your shirt directly over your left shoulder blade, where you have patted yourself on the back in celebration of a forfeit win. The only other explanation would be that somebody congratulated you on a job well done, which is hardly feasible." As always, it seemed so simple once he had laid open the facts. Before us, Mercedes nearly fainted from shame, again. "What do you propose I do?" he asked. Entenzahn distorted his face as I'd seen him do before, whenever he was concentrating on a very complex problem, like trying to think of a story Mercedes had written that wasn't a literary atrocity. Finally, the tension on his features eased. "You can brawl me instead, bitch," he said, and all color went from Mercedes's face. Would he accept?
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Feb 7, 2014 10:10
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Entenzahn posted:"You can brawl me instead, bitch," <Entenzahn> said, and all color went from Mercedes's face. Would he accept? Judge, reporting in.
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Feb 7, 2014 10:32
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In, for my first Thunderdome, with Neon. Looking forward to having my anal cavity made into something a little more malleable.
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Feb 7, 2014 15:03
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Haha! How can I say no to that face!
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Feb 7, 2014 15:10
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Mercedes posted:Haha! How can I say no to that face! Mercenzahn Facepunchbrawl Write the story of a character (or characters, if you're feeling stupid/ambitious) struggling with a Temptation. I expect a full character arc, and will be giving you the space to do so. Whether the character is destroyed or redeemed is up to you. Structurally, the story must be split into at least two distinct scenes. You may add more scenes if necessary, up to wordcount. Further, pick two from the following list and incorporate them into your story as significant details. Do not declare which ones you picked. It should be apparent. * Martensite, and its importance to the development of Western steelmaking * Rollerblades * The Velvet Revolution * His Imperial Majesty the Emperor Norton I of these United States * A singular marmot Words: 2000 maximum, under 1500 preferred. No more than 700 words in a single scene. Despite the high wordcount, I will be watching carefully for useless words and phrases. If you have fat, saggy prose, I will not be happy. Cut hard. Deadline: Noon GMT+0, Sunday, 16th February Go. Erogenous Beef fucked around with this message at 17:58 on Feb 7, 2014 |
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Feb 7, 2014 17:50
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I'm a basic baby bitch and I need to drop. Again. Someone, do better with my element of Gold than I would have.
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Feb 7, 2014 18:32
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The Leper Colon V posted:I'm a basic baby bitch and I need to drop. Again. Someone, do better with my element of Gold than I would have. If you discover a compulsion to finish something you start, we'll accept an entry from you, but gold is now free for anyone to choose. Kaishai fucked around with this message at 19:01 on Feb 7, 2014 |
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Feb 7, 2014 18:57
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The Leper Colon V posted:I'm a basic baby bitch and I need to drop. Again. Someone, do better with my element of Gold than I would have. Next time you enter you will need a toxx or your entry will be ignored.
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Feb 7, 2014 20:06
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How can you not write something with three days to do so. I AM DISAPPOINTED, LEPER.
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Feb 7, 2014 20:14
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I'll take Leper's element. Lame butt.
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Feb 7, 2014 20:58
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The Need Word Count: 108 Element: Gold the drill, sharp and bright the hand that guides, dull with slight trembles, idiot in a lab coat heart beating in sixteenth notes was there enough gas no matter, he asked his second to pass a tool, one that would make your rear end clench it was a monkey wrench with a pull and a snap the second put her hands together to clap with glee, for what he held took no sleuth it was a bloody, golden tooth two fingers, better make it three he sipped, reading the headline “Escapee Mental Patient”, he then reached underneath opening a box and ran his fingers along all the golden teeth
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Feb 7, 2014 21:53
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Sign-ups for Week LXXIX are CLOSED. The next forty-eight hours should see some fascinating chemical experiments.
Kaishai fucked around with this message at 07:09 on Feb 8, 2014 |
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Feb 8, 2014 05:33
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Title: Modern Magic Word Count: 1200 Element: Cesium Debiles smiled, his plan was coming together once again. He so loved the art. “You, will never become the Archmage.” His quarry spat at him, even as his body was slowly being pulled apart atom by atom. Debiles laughed, “My plan has already succeeded. You see minister, you were the final loose end to pluck out. Now the empire is mine.” With a snap of his fingers the man before him disintegrated. The motes of energy that had formerly comprised his body annihilating themselves in brilliant flashes of light. In a moment it was over. The green glow of his watches’ backlight was the only light in the cavern but Debiles needed no light to see by. The magic that infused his body allowed him to see through the darkness. The radiation that permeated all things was more than enough for his eyes to see by but he still enjoyed his watch. A faint beeping sound played out its electronic speaker reminding him that the minister needed to be dead by that moment. Right on time, he mused. “Now what?” His sister spoke behind him shattering his reverie. Debiles tried not to snarl at her. It really wasn’t her fault but he hadn’t scheduled an opportunity for her to speak. He walked towards the end of the corridor where the minister’s personal transport to the Archmage’s chambers awaited him. The sound of his sister’s footfalls were irritatingly irregular. He had learned years ago to try and ignore that shortfall of hers, after all she had taught him magic. The human will, such a peculiar thing, he thought. Unpredictable, resistant to routine and utterly unaware of time. To him time was precious. “All in good time my sister,” Tick, tock, was the sound that played through his mind. ---- The sound of the clock was all that he could hear. Tick, tock, the mouse runs up the clock. He wondered when he had begun to repeat that nursery rhyme in his head. Was it a minute after he had been locked up in the darkness? Was it a year? His train of thought was interrupted again by the sound. Tick, tock, the mouse is smashed by a rock. He picked up the creature and bit into it. The warm juice exploded in his mouth and he savored the metallic flavor. Sensation was such a rare treat down there and mice were better than nothing. Tick… the sound was interrupted. He strained to hear the clock but try as he might the sound was gone. He felt tears running down his face. A sensation he hadn’t felt since he had first been trapped. He groaned. The sound echoed chillingly throughout the cavern. He didn’t want out, he just wanted the clock. “Tick, Tock.” After what seemed like an eternity he began to make the sound himself. It helped him think. After repeating his mantra he saw a light, the heavy stones that had blocked his exit were extracted. His sister stood before him covered in the blood of his captors. He smiled, “Tick, tock,” was all he could say. ---- The Archmage stood before Debiles. His weak and aging body shook with the strain of holding itself upright. The staff of power that the Archmage clung to was more of a crutch than a powerful artifact. “Debiles.” His voice reminded Debiles of the rumbling of an avalanche. It was a sound he had heard once before but he couldn’t quite place it. No matter, I didn’t schedule that memory. He dismissed his own thoughts. “Mister Verum Latet, your time has come I’m afraid.” The ringing of the clock in his head felt like a metronome timing his every action. He reminded himself to slow down, he was moving too fast in his excitement. The Ancient Archmage spat, “How much you don’t know. Ungrateful wretch.” With impressive power and coordination the Archmage began to move, his hands were a blur of motion and his mouth ran through incantations faster than Debiles had thought was possible. Still against the plan the Archmage would fail. Debiles knew the plan almost as well as the sound that played on repeat in his head. Debiles’ watch chimed in again reminding him to step to the side as the enormous spear of ice flew through where he had been standing only milliseconds before. He quite liked his watch, his sister had gifted it to him shortly after he had escaped from his imprisonment. Another beep reminded him to drop to the floor as spinning disks of metal cut through the air over head. He had choreographed his motions after years of studying the Archmage. Were he a normal man he would have lost count of the number of hapless assassins he had dispatched to this very room each serving to reveal the Archmage’s habits. It had taken forty two to put together the plan and it all depended on timing. Something Debiles was very good at. The clock in his watch was based on the electronic transitions of the hyperfine ground states of Cesium-133. It was accurate to a degree even his time keeping abilities were envious of. The alarm rang again reminding him to roll to the side. Deep gouges were cut into the concrete that he had been laying upon by phantom creatures. His watch was perfect perhaps more so than the sound of clock in his head. Unfortunately without his watch to order his thoughts he was quite unable to concentrate for longer than a second. Another beep reminded him to cast his own magic. He mouthed the words and made the motions. Milliseconds passed as he waited for the telltale shimmer to begin, but nothing happened. His eyes widened as more milliseconds passed and no magical shield surrounded him. Then, a bolt of lightning pierced through his chest flinging him into the wall. His face was contorted in surprise, not sure of what had happened. Paralyzed, he watched his sister pluck the feeble Archmage up with her own psychic commands. The mage Struggled helplessly, after a moment he stopped moving and simply glared at her. “I knew it. Debiles never had any magic.” Now Debiles understood why it seemed like his captors had been struck down without a fight. Fortis shrugged, “You figured it out too late father.” She smiled as she casually pulled off his arms and legs like a child ripping the wings off of an insect. “Your act was quite perfect, I commend you.” The Archmage struggled to say as his daughter slowly cut him apart with her magic. Fortis smiled as she looked at her brother’s motionless body knowing that it would only be moments before his heart stopped. “To think, all it took was a clock. It took me years to convince him that my magic was his own. Luckily rhythm isn’t that hard to learn.” With her final words she pulled apart the rest of her father’s body leaving only a fine bloody mist. Debiles would have cried if he could, the sound of the clock was gone. It was a hell he was only forced to experience for a few moments before his dear sister finished him off.
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Feb 8, 2014 06:59
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Lest I forget: Meinberg, Djeser, Jay O, curlingiron, and Black Griffon, your  are noted. We'll be watching.
Kaishai fucked around with this message at 07:10 on Feb 8, 2014 |
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Feb 8, 2014 07:07
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*sigh* I submitted the wrong version >_< In the beginning Debiles is supposed to speak his sister's name which saved me a word allowing me to fix the omitted word 'of'. Hopefully that confusion won't penalize me too much ;_; Fixed version: A faint beeping sound played out of its electronic speaker reminding him that the minister needed to be dead by that moment. “All in good time Fortis,” Meh, ohwell. elfdude fucked around with this message at 10:57 on Feb 8, 2014 |
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Feb 8, 2014 07:12
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elfdude posted:STUFF YOU SHOULDN'T DO Don't do this stuff. Post it when it's done, then leave it the gently caress alone.
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Feb 8, 2014 07:27
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Dust to Dust - 1191 words Element: Cobalt I stand at her door. I still can't quite believe she has said yes. Bloody Hannah Moffat has said yes to me. I'm a giant knob-head, what is she thinking? I check my watch and realise I have been standing here for 10 minutes. 11 minutes. OK, i'm just being silly. She said yes, this isn't Punked and nothing bad will happen when I ring that doorbell. 12 minutes. poo poo, what's wrong with me? Oh no, I hear footsteps coming to the door. “Hello Son, I saw you from inside. Do you know how doors work?” “Dad! I told you not to talk. Come in Dean, I’ll be ready in a minute.” her Dad glugged his beer and opened the door wide. I walk into the house and immediately want to leave, go home and go to bed. This isn't for me at all. “What's your name kid?” “D-Dean Sir.” “Dean Sir? That's a silly name isn't it?” “DAD” He looks up the stairs and then turns back to me. He raises his beer, then arches his eyebrows. He shuffles off to the living room. I see the football is on, the volume is loud and the table is full of betting slips. “I'll be down in a minute.” I loosen my bow-tie. I check my watch and see we have a good hour until Prom starts. I know I should have stayed home a bit longer. I could have got a wank in. I go into the dining-room. The back wall has a huge portrait of the family, with individual portraits of the family lining the other walls. I'm a bit scared with the whole family looking at me so I turn to leave. “One minute Dean, I swear.” Back in hall i notice a small area behind the stairs. I see a beautiful blue bowl with flowers around it. The light shines through the window and illuminates the bowl, throwing a beautiful shade of blue against the back of the wall. In History i remember reading about how they coloured old glass using cobalt. I tried to tell Hannah her eyes were as pretty as cobalt but I said cobble instead. I said to an actual human that their eyes are like old roads. I'm so smooth I could be James Bond. She's not the prettiest girl in school but apparently she let Rob finger her in Science so i've got a good chance of getting something. What can I say I’m an old romantic at heart. A hair-dryer starts upstairs, I poo poo myself. A little dog runs out from the living-room and stares at me. I see there's something inside the bowl, I go over and lift it up. The dog starts to bark at me, i can see in its stupid eyes it wants to eat my tongue and lips. This dog needs to shut up because I don't want to deal with Hannah's Dad. I take one step towards the dog and it charges. What the gently caress is going on? I'm going to die. This little poo poo runs at a speed I don't think possible and runs between my legs, nipping every inch of my ankles. I try to kick it away but this dog is a nightmare; a blur of fur and teeth and ...holy poo poo. I drop the bowl and both of us freeze. We both watch the bowl break into a thousand pieces and a plume of dust explodes from the impact. The dog looks at me and I swear it smirks. It walks away, showing me its arsehole and its tail wags like no tail has wagged before. I turn to try and hide this mess and I see it: a funeral picture. Her Mum's dead? She said she left when she was young. Oh my God. Her mum was in the bowl. Now she is all over the floor. For some reason I think the best plan of action is to kick the glass and dead lady under the stairs. I soon realise this won't work, I scoop up the ashes and put some in my pocket. I'll get away with this and put my willy in a girl's mouth tonight. I just need to play it cool. The hair-dryer stops upstairs and I hear shoes clicking along the wooden floor. She bounces down the stairs and greets me with a huge smile. “What do you think?” She spins round and I watch her yellow dress gently lift around her knees and her blonde hair brushes my arm. She is actually really pretty. “What's that?” Oh my God. Act normal. I have a dead woman in my pockets but Christ I need to act normal. “Is that a bow-tie?” She steps forward and pats my bow-tie. I can smell her perfume, it smells like strawberries and I immediately fall in love with her. Either that or I want to have sex with strawberries. “Yeah, I thought I’d make an effort. Seeing as I’m going to Prom with the most beautiful girl in school.” I almost baulked at how cheesey that was. She steps forward and kisses me. “Will you look after this for me?” She takes her flower off and puts it in my pocket. Her lip gloss is still on my lips so I forget to stop her. “What's this?” She looks at the weird dust on her hand. Hannah turns and sees the crime scene.“MUMMY” She begins to pick up the broken pieces in shock. She keeps chanting to her dusty Mummy as my brain tries to formulate a plan to make sure I won't get throttled. “Delilah?!” Her Dad is awake now. Oh great, I'm going to be murdered. In a bow-tie too, they'll put that on my gravestone. I'll be a laughing stock even in death. “He put a dead woman in his pocket and died wearing a bow-tie” He runs out of the living-room and gasps as he sees the broken blue glass mingle with the ashes of his lovely wife. He drops to his knees and begins to scuttle across the floor scooping up the love of his life. I see a dustpan and brush and my stupid brain thinks it could help then I realise I am the worst human being in the world and I walk to the door. Hannah spins her head round like the girl off the Exorcist and says “Don't you tell anyone about this” Oh thanks for the warning Hannah. I was looking forward to telling the entire school about how I didn't get any sex on Prom night because I threw the ashes of a dead woman all over the floor and kept some in my pockets as a souvenir too. I walk outside and hear birds tweet in the trees. The sun shines in my eyes as a punishment. Mother Nature knows what I have done. I tear my bow-tie off and throw it into a bush. I knew I should have stayed in bed.
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Feb 8, 2014 09:19
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sebmojo posted:Don't do this stuff. Post it when it's done, then leave it the gently caress alone. I left the original alone. The problem is I have like six drafts open at once and when I read through it the two words were not noticed whatsoever. If you mean I shouldn't have brought attention to my own mistake then meh my bad. elfdude fucked around with this message at 10:57 on Feb 8, 2014 |
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Feb 8, 2014 10:46
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