For his first time in the Thunderdome, The Lake is read to bring the literary deluge.
|# ¿ Jan 29, 2014 22:20|
|# ¿ Jan 25, 2022 05:16|
Je Suis Désolé Decade: 1470s; Word count: 990
“Quickly, the spoon! Before the guards return!”
Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter, peered up from his heap of rags and soiled hay towards the man in the cell across from his.
“Give it here!” The prisoner had his whole arm through the bars and was gesturing frantically. “Come now, some of us still want out of here.”
Lord Henry dropped his gaze and pulled his knees tighter to his chest.
“Pardon, I did not realize m'lord wished to stay in bed today.” the prisoner spat, but the Duke was unresponsive. Were it not for the ponderous rise and fall of the Lord Henry's emaciated chest he would seem a corpse.
The prisoner took a strand of hay and rolled it between his thumb and index finger until it was a tight ball, then flicked it at the Duke. The nobleman flinched when it bounced off his forehead.
“Still with us, Henry?” the prisoner mocked. “Pity. I am sure there are scores who would rather see Henry the Cruel rotting in the ground. Is there anyone who would mourn you?”
Lord Henry shot the prisoner a murderous glare.
“Did I strike a nerve? None of your men liked you. We hated you. No surprise you were left for dead at Barnet.”
The Duke pushed himself up onto his feet. He moved slowly, wincing as the old wound in his side ached.
“Word in the camp was your wife had no love for you, and your daughter-”
“You shut your filthy mouth, peasant!” Lord Henry bellowed.
“There's the 'Bull' that we knew and loathed!”
Lord Henry fished through his bedding, trembling with fury. He found the spoon and brandished it at the prisoner. The tarnished utensil's head had been worn to sharp nub from years of scraping against stone.
“You think you can tunnel out of here better than I? Insolent poo poo. If I could bury this in your eye I would!” His knuckles went white as he clenched the spoon.
The sudden sound of the chamber door silenced the two men. Lord Henry tucked the spoon into the tattered rags he wore as footsteps drew near.
“Are you Duke Henry Holland of Exeter?” the newcomer asked. The man was dressed in the red and gold-trimmed uniform of the tower's guard, but his accent was French, and in all of Lord Henry's years imprisoned he had only been spoken to a handful of times.
“I am.” the Duke replied wearily.
“C'est épatant! You have not been an easy man to get to.”
Lord Henry furrowed his brow in bewilderment.
The newcomer began going through his key ring, trying each key to find the right one to the Duke's cell. “I am to get you out of here, monsieur le duc.”
Lord Henry reached through the bars and grasped the man's doublet, “Do you have word from the outside? What of my wife? Of my daughter, Anne?”
“Je suis désolé. Your wife received dispensation to divorce you and remarried the Yorkist Sir Thomas St. Leger. And your daughter-” the Frenchman looked up from his key ring and met the Duke's eyes, “She passed during childbirth. Her infant followed her shortly thereafter.”
Lord Henry reeled as his knees threatened to give out on him.
“Voilà!” exclaimed the Frenchman as he found the right key for the lock. The door screeched as it swung open, “Let us go, monsieur le duc.”
Lord Henry tried to find the words to respond but none came. He staggered out of his cell in a daze.
“Wait! Take me with you!” the prisoner in the opposite cell pleaded.
Lord Henry's lips curled into a wicked sneer, “You were wrong, I do still have friends.”
“I said what I said to get you up, to keep you going!”
“Mark me, when I return there will be a reckoning between us. Enjoy this hell until then.” The duke grinned as the prisoner began babbling out a desperate plea, but the Frenchman interrupted the prisoner.
“We must hurry.” The Duke nodded and followed the Frenchman to the exit.
“Bastard! This is why no one has any love for you!” the prisoner cried out.
“Je suis désolé.”
The Frenchman lead Lord Henry through dank, winding corridors of the tower. The Duke followed closely, not letting the Frenchman stray further than arms reach for fear that he would vanish entirely.
“Who sent you for me? Was it the Earl of Warwick?”
“No, the Earl died at Barnet.”
“Then Margaret of Anjou?”
“Imprisoned and not my employer. Essayer à nouveau!” The Frenchman stopped and appraised Lord Henry, who stared back in confusion.
“Vraiment? I admit it is not an obvious guess, monsieur le duc. I was sent by Sir Thomas St. Leger and your former wife.”
“Why would they send someone to rescue me?”
“They did not. They sent someone to see that you die in a failed escape.”
Lord Henry's bewilderment was banished when the Frenchman's hand reach for his sword. The Duke's hand grabbed for the spoon in his rags as he lunged at his would-be assassin. The next moments were a chaotic blur of fury and motion. The two collided and there was a struggle brief. When the fighting finished it was Lord Henry who stood triumphant over the body of the Frenchman.
Lord Henry immediately set about stripping the man of his uniform. Disguise donned, he started for the exit, but after a few steps he stopped and turned back. He made his way back through the desolate halls towards the cell of the man who had been his only companion for more than two years, the keys jingling with every step. There was a silence between the two men when Lord Henry returned, a silence which Henry broke first.
“Je suis désolé.”
|# ¿ Feb 3, 2014 00:39|
I'll take the Toxx like a big girl.
May buy your account back, but it can not buy back your self-respect. Write!
|# ¿ Feb 3, 2014 03:55|
In with Chlorine.
|# ¿ Feb 4, 2014 20:09|
Who wants a flash rule.
gently caress it, I will take a flash rule.
|# ¿ Feb 4, 2014 20:56|
Sorry it's a few minutes late, I had connectivity issues.
American Werewolf in America
Element: Chlorine. Flash rule: must have a pool but no one gets wet.
First thing you gotta know about me is that I'm a werewolf. The second (and more important) thing is that I am a skateboarding junkie who's desperate attempts to get my fix had turned me into a public menace.
Anthony knew this and went immediately for the jugular.
“My parents had the pool emptied. Dan, it's perfect for skating.” He had me cornered at my locker.
“If it was perfect it wouldn't be the full moon.” I said, casting a nervous glance up and down the hall.
“It will be fine, no one will find out your secret. I'll just lock you in the basement cage when it gets dark.” As much as my parents wanted to keep a lid on my condition, you can't expect a little kid to keep something like that from his best friend. Anthony's parents had a cage to house me for sleepovers after they came around to the idea that I was a lycanthrope.
“I don't know...” I shifted uncomfortably.
“The only way Ashley will come to the party is if Jess comes, and Jess will come if she hears you'll be there.” Anthony had been wanting to hook up with Ashley since freshman year. Jess though...ugh!
I tried to say no, but when I looked for the words all I found was the electric thrill promised by the possibility of pool boarding. “Alright, I'm in.”
The rest of the week dragged on. Any attempts to focus in class were sabotaged by the skateboarder lurking within, threatening to make its way to the surface. Friday couldn't come soon enough. When the final bell rang I dashed out of physics, freed my skateboard from my locker, rendezvoused with Anthony by his car in the parking lot. I wanted leave immediately, but he told me we had to wait since we were giving a ride to Jess and Ashley, so I killed time skating circles around his car.
Most of the parking lot had emptied when Jess and Ashley finally met up with us. It was about time, since at that point I was trying to figure out how much speed I would need to get to jump Mrs. Schumacher's car, which she had carelessly parked at the bottom of side entrance staircase.
We piled into Anthony's Taurus and set off for his place. Ashley took my spot in the passenger seat, leaving me trapped in back with Jess. Jess was delighted, of course. She had been obsessed with me since forever (I have no clue why), but I felt the complete opposite. Everything she did managed to get under my skin, from the way her voice went up at the end of every sentence like she was asking question to the fact that she was currently wearing a Team Jacob t-shirt (seriously, in 2014!!).
“I got a joke.” she announced. I bit my tongue for Anthony's sake, but he was nowhere near as generous.
“Go for it.” he said, grinning as he looked at me through the rear view mirror.
“What's the difference between a werewolf and a mermaid?”
“I don't know, what?” Anthony asked, stifling laughter.
“Werewolves can't swim while mermaids aren't real.” Anthony was the only one that laughed. Bastard could hardly contain himself.
I didn't even wait until his car had finished pulling into the driveway before I leaped out and dashed straight for his back yard. The smell of chlorine was lingering in air, beckoning to me. The change was coming on soon, heightening my senses and making the pool-cleaner's aroma intoxicating. When I laid eyes on the emptied pool I nearly wept for joy.
Anthony's family had money and their pool was one of a number of indications. It was massive, five feet deep in the shallows and eleven in the deep end. It's bowl shape made it perfect for skating. I hopped on my board and dropped in with abandon.
The next few hours were a blur. Other people stared to file in to the party, but I was ambivalent to them and the lovely pop-songs they blared over the speaker system. Other skaters joined me, in the pool, but none could match my fervor or intensity. I was dervish, flying high and free as I careened between them. My board and I were one, and felt a glorious release from the confines of gravity.
“Bro! What are you doing?” Anthony said, pulling me away as I was about to drop in for nth time.
“Huh?” I saw the hickey on his neck and the look of worry in his eyes.
“The sun is going to set any moment.” he said. He was write. It was dusk and I hadn't even noticed.
“We got to get you into the basement.” I knew he was write, but my skateboard was calling to me, urging me onward to sicker and sicker tricks. If Anthony hadn't pulled me away I think I would have stayed until I had reverted into my bestial form.
My skateboard clenched to my chest, I was lead down stairs to my prison to wait out the night. He locked the cage, wished me could night, and scurried away back upstairs.
The change came quickly. My blood boiled. My bones broke and re-knit themselves together. Muscles and sinew swelled until I became the beast of nightmares and legends. One think filled my frenzied brain: skateboarding.
I had lost track of time entirely until I heard the door to the basement open. Music bellowed from above, while the scent of alcohol and perspiration filled my nostrils.
“Dan, are you down here? I heard – Oh my God!” Jess's cries where downed out by hoard of high schoolers singing along to Miley Cyrus's “Wrecking Ball.”
“Dan, is that you?” she said. She was terrified, but there was something that kept her from running. Probably her werewolf fetish. loving Jess.
“The key. Over there.” I managed to growl out. She nodded and took the key from the peg on the far wall. With only a moment of hesitation she unlocked the cage.
I took a furtive step out of my cell. The wolf in me was calling for blood. I reached out to her with one of my massive clawed hands. But I had another urge besides carnage, an even more powerful urge. I curled my hand into a fist and scooped up my board in the other.
|# ¿ Feb 10, 2014 03:18|
Oh poo poo, I just realized I had until 12:00am instead of 10pm. Oh well, who needs to editing when your writing is fueled by fevered dreams and cold medicine?
The answer is me.
|# ¿ Feb 10, 2014 03:26|
My inter-prompt submission.
Hearts of Gemini (299 Words)
Faith was initially ecstatic to find the engagement ring in her beau's linen closet, but was devastated when she read the inscription. To Margo, My Love. Margo was Faith's twin sister.
Faith weaved through traffic while frantically hammering out a text. Kent, where are you?! He wasn't at work, and when she called his cell it went straight to voicemail.
Faith's brought her Porsche to a screeching halt in Margo's drive way and her sweaty hands fumbled with the keys at her sister's front door.
“Margo, have you seen the body oil- Faith?!” There was Kent, wearing nothing but a towel and a look of surprise.
“It's not what it looks like!”
“Then explain this!” She threw the ring at him.
“Faith, I'm not Kent. I'm Kent's twin brother, Riley.” They were twin sets of twins and it was always trouble.
“Riley fled to Mexico after escaping prison.”
“I came back...for Margo.”
“And the ring?”
“I ran in to Kent when you two took that cruise to Cancun. I was in trouble with the cartel at the time and I was worried I would lose the ring. He agreed to smuggle it back to the states for me.”
“What are you talking about?” Margo said, stepping out from behind the staircase. Her eyes were fixed on the ring.
“This isn't how I wanted to ask-”
“Yes.” she said before throwing herself into his arms. Faith shifted uncomfortably then slipped out the front door.
“Where were you? I have a gunshot victim prepped for surgery.”
“You wouldn't believe-” Faith pulled back the curtain and froze. The patient strapped to the operating table was Kent.
“Where am I?” Kent asked groggily.
“You're in the hospital, Kent” Faith had been with him since the surgery.
“I'm not Kent. I'm Riley.”
|# ¿ Feb 17, 2014 20:44|
In, and I want my goddamned flash rule now. The last time I waited until the last minute to write I created a piece about werewolf skateboarders. Do you really want more werewolf skateboarders? I thought not.
|# ¿ Feb 18, 2014 15:10|
I do. Make them skateboard though.
If the judges deem that my flash rule then so be it.
|# ¿ Feb 18, 2014 16:41|
Thanks for the generosity. I'll be sure to take you up on the offer, and I am happy to return the favor.
|# ¿ Feb 18, 2014 18:56|
Gratitude: To Crabrock
Lake Jucas - In addition to your chosen Lego set, incorporate Earth Defense HQ into your story. Yes, you’re working with two sets. Your other set may not be from the Alien Conquest series.
The Io Reseach Base team stood in silence and watched the first transmission they'd received from Earth since the communications blackout. Dr. James Avalon, mission commander, did everything he could to maintain his poise in front of his men.
“This can't be real...” muttered Dr. Hansen, whose daughter's birthday had come and gone during the weeks of Earth's silence.
“The transmission is quite real.” solicited STAN, the station's android.
Banks of computers played the same scene simultaneously. As Volgogrod burned in the background, a squad of Russian soldiers were making their last stand against hulking green beings with technology unlike anything they had ever seen. One by one the Russians fell, until all that remained was the scientist who was recording the footage. The aliens quickly cracked open the mobile command station he was sheltered in, and the transmission died with him screaming “inostranets” as a green, gelatinous creature affixed itself to the man's head.
“Inostranets?” Avalon looked to Levchenko, the other man on his team.
“It means aliens.” Levchenko stared blankly into the distance.
“I have a plan to return to Earth.” Avalon stood before his assembled men, hands on his hips.
“Is that even possible?” Hansen asked.
“STAN's calculations confirm it is.” The men looked to the android. The android hesitated while servos whirred beneath his translucent helmet.
“Dr. Avalon is correct.”
“We'll have to cannibalize a lot of the station's parts and systems, but with enough effort we can piece together a ship that will take us back home. I've forward the blueprints to your terminals, your orders are to begin working immediately. Dismissed.”
Hansen filed out but Levchenko lingered at the door for a moment. He studied Avalon with bloodshot eyes, but whatever he thought he kept to himself.
“Why did you have me lie to them, sir?” Stan asked.
“They need something to keep them going.”
“And you, sir?”
“Levchenko, are you listening?” Avalon shook the Russian. Levchenko blinked and glanced around the tram car.
“I dozed off.”
“You've been riding the monorail for hours.”
“Oh.” he muttered.
“What were you doing?” Avalon looked at Levchenko, but the Russian didn't meet his eyes.
“I was...” he didn't bother finishing.
“We're going to get home.” Avalon said.
“Have you seen Levchenko?” Avalon asked.
“I haven't seen him all day.” Hansen said, crawling out from underneath the makeshift fuselage. “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, everything is fine.” Avalon tried to say casually, but there was something in his voice that Hansen noticed. When Avalon went to security to try to track down Levchenko, Hansen followed.
The two men poured over the station's security footage
“There!” Hansen exclaimed, but his excitement quickly turned to dread. Avalon dashed over to Hansen's terminal. He watched as Levchenko donned his spacesuit with ritual deliberateness before taking one of the rovers out into Io's desolate wilderness.
“When was this?” Avalon felt his heart sink.
Hansen looked up at him with wide eyes, “Ten hours ago.”
Avalon spun and sprinted towards the vehicle bay. He was half in his own suit by the time Hansen caught up to him.
“Jim, it's too late. He must have run out of oxygen four hours ago.”
“It's not too late!” Avalon furiously tugged at a stuck zipper. He felt Hansen's eyes on him as his trembling hands fumbled with his suit, but no matter what he did the suit wouldn't give.
That night, Avalon insisted they have a service for Levchenko. He read a poem by Dylan Thomas while Hansen stood in silence.
“It's over.” Hansen said.
“It's not over.” Avalon said.
“This shuttle is hopeless, and even if it wasn't what then? We haven't heard from Earth in months.”
“We have to keep fighting.”
“There is nothing left to fight for. Earth's gone. My family is gone. I've accepted it, now it's your turn.”
When Avalon woke the next morning he discovered he was the last man alive.
“I can't keep going.” Avalon sobbed.
“You must.” STAN said.
“Why? What's the point?”
“Without you, I serve no purpose. You need to persist...”
“...For you.” Avalon whipped away his tears.
|# ¿ Feb 24, 2014 04:25|
“Shut your loving mouth,” he grunted between thrusts. She buried her sobs in her pillow until it's pristine white cover was soaked through with tears.
|# ¿ Feb 25, 2014 03:39|
|# ¿ Feb 25, 2014 21:10|
Allegiance is fluid in the Thunderdome. Starter Wiggin, we collaborated together last week, but this week we will meet on the battlefield. It's time to brawl.
Just a warning: unlike your precious Kilkenny cats, there won't be any trace of you left once I am done.
|# ¿ Mar 5, 2014 21:09|
And mine, Starter Wiggins.
The King of Throop Avenue
“Hold it!” bellowed the King of Throop Avenue and the Pontiac obeyed, rolling to a stop at the intersection. The King fixed his gaze on the trio of school girls, “Alright, now cross.”
Long ago, the stop signs at the intersection of Throop Avenue and Hart Street were stolen. Unbidden, cars raced through the intersection like wild animals, heedless of pedestrians and other cars. It wasn’t until the King of Throop Avenue began his vigil that order was restored. At least that was how the neighborhood kids told it.
“Thank you, Mr. King” they said as they walked passed into the bodega.
“You girls have a good day.” he told them, waving the Pontiac on.
Every day, the King of Throop Avenue held court on this corner, directing herds of cars from his aluminum folding-chair throne. Under his watchful eyes, schools of children safely swam the gaps between oncoming lumbering SUVs. He kept the flocks of bicyclists in check and well away from the prowling taxis that zipped between lanes. All was harmony.
An old corolla came up to the intersection. “Keep it coming!” the King commanded. The corolla’s driver put his foot on the gas, put without warning a pack of young, white men darted out in front of the car. The corolla jerked to a halt while they meandered across.
“You could have gotten hurt!” the King shouted at them.
“Mind your business.” one shouted back. As they passed, the King overheard them whisper about schizophrenia and laugh. .
The King hobbled over to his throne and eased himself into it. His knees were troubling him again. He rummaged through his cooler - the royal treasury - and found one of the bologna sandwiches Mrs. Delancie made him and started eating. In quiet moments like these he thought about how the neighborhood was changing. The word ‘gentrification’ was on the tip of everyone’s tongues.
The bodega’s door chime roused him. One of the girls rushed out. “Where’s Mr. Bear?” she cried, “Has anyone seen Mr. Bear?”
“Did you lose your stuffed animal?” the King asked.
“Uh-huh. I just had him!”
The King scanned the area and spotted it in the middle of the road on the far corner. The girl went to sprint for it but the King stopped her. “I’ll get it. Kids shouldn’t be out in the road.”
He was halfway across Hart when he saw the shiny new Prius barreling down Throop, directly towards the stuffed bear. “Hold it!” he shouted, but the driver didn’t slow. He looked through the windshield and saw that the woman driving was on the phone, distracted.
“Hold it!” he flailed his arms over his head, but the woman never noticed him. The car kept coming. The King cast a glance back at the little girl and saw the horror in her eyes as her teddy was about to be run over.
The driver slammed her foot on the brakes and twisted the steering wheel. The Prius managed to swerve out of the way and narrowly managed to miss the King. Heart pounding in his chest, he scooped up the teddy bear.
The woman hopped out of her car, “What is wrong with you? I nearly got into an accident!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” he said.
“Seriously, are you crazy? You’re lucky I don’t call the cops. Stupid nig-” she slammed the car door shut and sped off.
When the King of Throop Avenue returned to his corner, the girl ran up and hugged him. “I can’t thank you enough! You have no idea how much Mr. Bear means to me!”
The King smiled at her. He reached into the royal treasury, and with as much pomp and ceremony his trembling hands could muster he drew forth a freezy pop. She grinned delightedly. “Be more careful with Mr. Bear.” he said, “You don’t want to lose him.”
That night, as the King of Throop Avenue’s watch came to a close, he crossed the street and lingered where his daughter had played decades ago, at the spot where the car didn’t swerve out of the way in time. He let himself not be the King of Throop Avenue for a moment, and for the first time in years he cried.
|# ¿ Mar 8, 2014 22:52|
In and flash rule me.
|# ¿ Mar 10, 2014 20:45|
Ghost Stories of the Old World
Flashrule: The Tygers of Wrath are Wiser Than Nightmares
Kate was relieved to see that the years had kind to the La Paz Resort. Though the plaster walls of the Tico-styled buildings had faded and chipped, and the grounds were overgrown, the jungle's reclamation of the resort had only accentuated its rustic beauty. She allowed herself a moment to take it all in, she felt she deserved that much after seven months and thousands of miles. Burying the corpses that awaited her inside could wait.
Kate cut through the dirt patch that used to be the resort's parking lot and made her way towards the Waterfall Trail. The trail markers had been swallowed up by the jungle long ago, but she didn't need them. She navigated by memory and had no difficulty arriving at the waterfall's basin. Kate slipped the pack from her aching shoulders and peeled off her sweat-soaked clothing. Hard-won wisdom told her that the roar of the waterfall would mask the sound of another survivor sneaking up on her, but the prospect of a refreshing dip won out over caution. She dove into the waters headlong.
The sun was hanging low in the sky when Kate reluctantly decided to leave the basin and survey the resort. She moved from building to building, taking stock of things she could use. The wells pumped up fresh water, the kitchens were filled with canned goods, and there were even a few sets of clothes that had been locked away in drawers that fit her. Satisfied by what she found, she grabbed a plastic-wrapped set of bedsheets and made her way to the honeymoon suite bungalow.
The bed in the suit held a pair of corpses in a severe state of decomposition. They were both curled into a fetal position, with the man holding the woman. Kate had seen this before; the virus worked so fast that most victims never had time to get taken to the hospital. At least they went together she thought as she dragged their bodies by the bedding and dumped them on the porch.
Kate made the bed and collapsed in it. It had been hers once before, a lifetime ago. That was before the virus came, before having to bury loved ones, and before the horrors of being a survivor. She had seen the worst she thought the world could offer, and now that she was here she could at least have that moment of paradise.
Kate was awakened by the sound of her own screaming. Her trembling hands groped in the darkness for her pack. She found it, pulled out her flashlight, and scanned the room. Empty.
She climbed out of bed and walked to the glass-paneled door and shined the light out on the porch. The couple was right where she left them.
She gathered the sheets from the bed and dragged them into the master bathroom. She barred the door with a hutch and spent the rest of the night in the jacuzzi tub. It was just a nightmare, she told herself. The dead were gone and this was her home now.
Kate felt silly the next morning as she emerged from the bathroom into the light of day. It was pointless to be afraid of ghost stories after having faced true horror in the actions of desperate men.
She made her way to the kitchen and breakfasted on a can of peaches. She spent the day cleaning and rearranging the resort. She dragged the bodies out from their beds and piled them in the parking lot with every intention of digging graves for them all, but by the time she found a shovel the sun was low in the sky. She spent the rest of the day on her porch reading a Blake novel she had found in someone’s luggage while golden rays of sunlight pierced the canopy and drew patterns on skin. When night fell, she recovered the bedding from the bathroom and went to sleep on the bed.
Kate woke from her nightmare with the overwhelming urge to retch. She staggered out of bed and dashed for the bathroom, making it just in time to spill the contents of her stomach into the empty toilet. Each heave wracked her body until there was nothing left for her to spew. When she finished, she lay there trembling on the cool tile.
“It was just a dream,” she said to herself “Only a nightmare.”
That was when she heard the sound of someone else retching wring out from the bedroom. Kate’s stomach sank as she heard a second person start person join the first and start retching as well.
Kate slammed the bathroom door closed, not daring to look at who was making those sounds, and drag the hutch from the corner to bar it again. The vomiting continued unabated, punctuated only be the sounds of crying. Kate lay in the bathtub, shaking and crying herself for what seemed like hours. Eventually her body gave out and sleep took her.
The next morning the bedroom was empty, devoid of any sign that someone beside Kate had been there. This time she was furious and delirious from lack of sleep. She rummaged through the resort, looking for gasoline and matches, possessed by the half-mad idea to burn the pile of bodies. Dead by damned, she thought. The tygers of wrath were wiser than nightmares.
She stormed through the compound towards the parking lot, but when she rounded the corner her heart skipped a beat and she stopped dead in her tracks.
The pile of bodies was gone.
|# ¿ Mar 17, 2014 03:59|
The Wizard's Bee
The wizard turned the horrid gaze of his third eye on Jeremy. His sonorous voice echoed throughout the scriptorium, “Your word is xangrashterphenotics.”
“X...a...n....g...uh....” a bead of sweat collected on his brow, “A?”
“Wrong!” the wizard cried. With one fluid movement of his knobby finger, he ripped a hole in space time and cast Jeremy into the nether.
The wizard turned to Ashley, and the poor girl withered under his stare. “Your word is sanguinostication.”
“Wrong!” the wizard cried again, and Ashley burst into a pile of worms.
“Next!” the wizard said. Suddenly all eyes were on me. “Your word is ftghnigrnndl.”
What?! The others at least had a chance. It wasn't fair!
The wizard's thin lips stretched into a wicked grin. “I am waiting.”
My heart was pounding in my chest. I needed something. Anything. “Uh...can you use it in a sentence?”
He furrowed his brow, “I...I can't.”
And just like that, the wizard vanished in an explosion of color and sound.
|# ¿ Mar 17, 2014 15:15|
Critiques for Week LXXXIV: MOST OF YOU CAN'T TELL GHOST STORIES
Since I don't feel I have the time to do the prompt justice this week, I will instead offer my humble skills at critiquing. I'll either do a line-by-line of a previous entry, or offer feedback on an entry for this week. Offer is extended to the first three people who PM me.
Lake Jucas fucked around with this message at 19:38 on Mar 27, 2014
|# ¿ Mar 27, 2014 19:03|
In. Flash rule me.
|# ¿ Apr 2, 2014 14:40|
In with a
|# ¿ Apr 22, 2014 18:14|
A New Puppy
*Editing for formatting*
I often wonder if I get more out of giving my children gifts than they do. After setting up the tree and laying out the presents last Christmas Eve, I ended up laying awake in bed until sunrise because I was so excited to see the looks of their faces, all the while those two slept like logs. It's not to say they don't get excited themselves – they do – but I never got as excited when I was a kid as I do now. This was why I was bouncing in my seat as I drove to pick up my kids' first puppy.
Both of them had been dropping hints for weeks that they wanted a puppy, but each time they would try to bring it up I would shake my head and say something like “I don't think so, dogs are a lot of work.” My poker face was so good that my littlest one had seemingly given up and stopped asking entirely. They had no idea I had been responding to adoption ads the entire time.
I eventually settled on a husky that I fell in love with the moment I saw the picture in the ad. He was the cutest little thing with his over-sized paws and ears and brilliant blue eyes. The little girl with a wide smile and arm slung over the puppy's shoulder made him all the more charming. It kept imagining my little girl with her own arm around the dog, beaming.
I pulled off the exit and began following the directions the owner had given me. She lived out in the boonies. GPS didn't work that far out. I had it on just in case, but hadn't left the highway far behind before I lost signal.
I turned off of a dirt road and pulled into this woman's driveway. I wasn't sure it was her's at first, but it was the only turn off I had seen in more than a mile and when I saw the house it matched the description she gave.
The place was a lot more run down than I had expected. The yard was overgrown with crab grass and looked like it hasn't been mowed in ages. The property was strewn with garbage, including a rust-eaten van that sat wheel-less on cinder blocks. The house's linoleum siding had likely once been green, but had now faded to a dull gray.
Undeterred, I parked the car and walked up towards the house. No one had bothered clearing a path between the front door and the driveway, and I ended up stubbing my toe on a old doll someone had ripped the head off of and left to be swallowed up by the grass. “What a dump,” I muttered to myself. I continued up to the front door and knocked.
The first thing I heard were screams – a little girl's screams – followed a woman's shouts. Before I could react the door flung open.
“-I don't want to hear it, Goddammit, now get to your room,” the woman who answered the door shouted at a crying little girl inside. It was the same little girl from the photo in the ad. I cringed inwardly, because I would never use that tone with my kids. She turned her attention to me, “You here about the dog?”
“Uh, yeah...” I said.
“Please, don't sell him! There's nothing wrong with him!” the little girl cried.
“Jesus help you, if you don't get back in your room right now I will tan your hide until you won't be able to sit.” The girl opened her mouth to respond, but changed her mind and went ran off crying to her room.
“Sorry about that,” the woman said, “she has too much of her father in her.”
“Ah...but, yeah I am here about the puppy,” I said. From what little of this family I had seen was enough for me to want to get out of there as quickly as I could. I just wanted to get the puppy and get out.
“Come on, then,” she said, and lead me into the house. I hesitated for a moment and considered leaving, but I thought of the kids and the joy on their faces when they set eyes on their first puppy and decided to follow her in.
Inside was in the same state of disrepair as outside. There were holes in the walls where someone had punched through them. I noticed crucifixes hung on every wall, and on every clear surface there was a votive candle currently burning.
The woman opened up the stairs to the basement and hesitated. The stench of dog piss wafted up towards us.
“Is something the matter,” I asked when she didn't move.
She turned and fixed me with an expression that seemed a mix of fear and guilt. “Everything's fine,” she said, and made her way town the stairs.
The puppy started yelping nervously as it heard us coming in the dark. When she reached the base of the stair she flicked the lights on, and I saw the cute husky from the ad, only it was trapped in a bird cage and its fur was matted with its own poo poo and piss.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, “What did you do to him?” I didn't want to start a fight, but I couldn't contain my outburst. I expected her to round on me and shout at me like she did her daughter.
The woman turned, but instead of indignation I saw tears well up in her eyes. “I am sorry, mister, but I didn't tell you the whole truth.”
“That puppy is sick.” she said, sobbing.
“I can take it to a vet.”
“No, not for what it has. I should have told you before making you come out all this way. Lord, give me strength because I can't do it. I can't.”
What have I gotten myself in to? “What's wrong?”
“That dog, that thing, is infested with the devil itself...oh, he may look innocent, but he'll infect you with terrible thoughts,” she said, “Horrible thoughts.”
I looked at the poor, whimpering puppy and back to the addled woman. I tried to come up with a response. I wanted to tell her she needed help, but all I said was “I'll still take him.” I thought she would argue the point further, but I pulled out a fifty from my wallet and she took it reluctantly. Without another word, I took the puppy from its cage and hurried up the stairs.
As I made my way towards the exit I caught the little girl out of the corner of my eyes. I stopped and looked at her. She looked back with red rimmed eyes at me, with her beloved puppy in my arms. To this day I wish I stopped said something. Instead, I turned back to the door, made my way to the car, drove back home. After I cleaned the puppy up, I introduced him to my kids. I sat in silence as I saw the joy fill their hearts and their eyes.
Lake Jucas fucked around with this message at 04:45 on Apr 28, 2014
|# ¿ Apr 28, 2014 04:38|
Sorry for the lateness, I ended up throwing out and rewriting the prompt a few times. Even if I am DQ'd does this still satisfy my Toxx?
|# ¿ Apr 28, 2014 04:40|
I am in. I'd love to brawl HiddenGecko since I know the guy. Let's see if he will rear his ugly mug in here.
|# ¿ May 9, 2014 15:20|
Come on, any of you "winners" gonna brawl me?
|# ¿ May 13, 2014 19:49|
Lake Jucas, if there is no story for your Entenzahn brawl when I wake up in the morning (8 hours from now) then you will lose.
Whoa, I am gone for a few days and suddenly I am in a brawl. Hate to be an rear end in a top hat since Entenzahn went ahead and wrote a piece, but I didn't know there was a brawl going on until just now.
Not that I am backing down from the challenge now, I am totally down to brawl you, I will even take a handicap for the sin of not being on SA for a few days. I just request it begins after next Thursday, since I am not going to have free time until then.
|# ¿ May 22, 2014 14:37|
I am not going to accept the shame of a victory by default. Given sebmojo's consent, you will write a piece and it will go up against mine and I don't care when you do it. If you have a few hours, use them. Take a month. It matters not. You will be crushed, and your wails will fuel my ascent to Thunderdome greatness.
Sounds good. I'll do my best to write something tonight before I leave for the weekend. I doubt I'll need much time to destroy you.
|# ¿ May 22, 2014 17:22|
|# ¿ Jan 25, 2022 05:16|
Losing All Wits
“Come! Come! Warm yourself by the fire, stranger! Is so cold outside, pretty girl like you would catch death of cold out there. Let Alexei get you drink from bar. No no, I insist!
“There you go! So, what brings pretty little American girl like you out to small village like this? You are American, yes? Alexei can tell these things.
“Come! Sit by fire with me, Alexei does not bite. Much. Ha! Is joke! Do not look so nervous!
“So, you looking for friend? Say she just came in here to use bathroom? Alexei has not seen anyone come in. Ona razyskivayet svoyego druga. Da, dva v odin den'! No, none of them have seen her either. I am sure she will turn up soon, you should have seat and wait. The fire is nice and warm....see, not so bad!
“Do they have winters this bad in America? No, I did not think so. You have look of someone who has not had to live through such things. Is good thing! Alexei has seen many bad winters, though none so bad as this.
“It is winters like this that people lose all wits. Poof! Vanished! Hahaha!
“Where are you going? No no no...sit. Stay. There is no where to go for kilometers and there is not much else in town besides the bar. When she turns up it will be here, Alexei promise you.
“Is nice, yes? If there is one thing we have in town it is good drink. Harvest was...eh, not so good. Food? Nyet. But at least we have drink. I say toast, to pretty little American girl and -
“No, it was not scream. Must have been wind. Come, were just about to toast. No...no...nyet, you are making scene, is why everyone is staring.
“Ona znayet , otkroy dver'.
“What did I tell them? Oh, Alexei just say you are fine, is no big deal. Yes you are-
“I...No, Alexei never-
“You are being silly, pretty American...but you are pretty.
“They have locked the door, pretty little American girl. No, that will not help. Now, come sit next to Alexei by fire and we can talk. Then, if you are good little girl I can take you to see your friend.
“Where was I? Oh yes. In winters like this after such harvest is easy for people to lose all wits. Poof! Vanished! Hahahahaha!
“Why you not laughing?”
|# ¿ Jun 2, 2014 14:26|