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"In," he gulped as he ran his shivering fingers over the mechanical keyboard in an almost rhythmic manner, giving the otherwise quiet and empty room an echo which threatened to shatter his fragile eardrums.
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Mar 4, 2014 05:39
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I'm too new to this. I need someone to give me a flash rule.
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Mar 5, 2014 22:32
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Five Shots (731 Words) The crowd cheered as Jamie was hoisted into the air by the stagehands. The host screamed, “You won Jamie!” as he spread his arms wide and raised them, inviting the crowd to cry even louder. Jamie was shoved into a silver car as it spun around it's pedestal, his eyes still stared ahead but reddening somewhat. His mouth moved silently as the host continued, “You just won an SLS-Roadster courtesy of Mercedes!” The stagehands jerked him free of the leather seat of the car despite Jamie's tight grip on the steering wheel and carried him on their shoulders to the next prize. The host bellowed, “And a brand new house! I'm sure you'll have all the girls scrambling for you now!” The picture showed a large mansion, the grounds in front of it had to be several square acres in size. The perfectly manicured lawn and grounds must have required at least three groundskeepers to maintain. The house itself was three stories tall; i's brick and marble facades painted a picture of permanence and stability. The crowd ooh'd and hollered in laughter as the stagehands moved Jamie on his tour of his prizes. They came to a stop in front of the a poster, easily two yards tall and twice that wide. The brightly colored poster featured a group of spring breakers clad in swim suits on the beach as the sun beat down on them overhead. The host pontificated, “But I'm sure you won't want to stick around that dusty old home all the time! That's why you've earned an all-expenses-paid vacation to the location of your choosing! That's right anywhere in the world!” The crowd erupted in cheers They pushed onto the barrier separating the stage from the audience as their the calls and hand waving became more fevered and urgent. The announcer raised his arms again, sporting what might just be a little bit of an erection as the continued, “And that's not all Jamie!” he bellowed, “You've won one million dollars!” Jamie wretched as the stagehands hoisted him up onto their shoulders to cart him around the stage. The crowd was in a frenzy now as it broke through the barricades to rush at Jamie. They pushed the stagehands aside, grabbed Jamie and hoisted him above them and began shuffling the kid on top of them. The Jamie did his best to curl into a ball as he was jostled around on top of the crowd, but the hands of the people kept pulling at him forcing him to lie straight. The announcer's voice laughed over the loudspeakers, “Now everyone, let's not forget Jamie's family! I'm sure they're extra proud of their boy!” Six mammoth screens descended from the ceiling behind the announcer. As they lit up one by one they showed each of Jamie's family members. First, on the left, his father Thomas. The stagehands handed Thomas a revolver, spinning the chamber before locking it in place. Thomas closed his eyes and put the gun to his head. As he pulled the trigger the gun fired knocking his head toward the gun as skull and brain matter spewed out from the opposite side of his head. The next screen lit up, and the next, and the next. Four screens in total lit up and each showed one of Jamie's family members as they placed that revolver to their head and pulled the trigger. In each case the gun fired and they quickly slumped to the floor. The fifth screen lit up. This time showing Jamie's brother, Tommy. He could barely hold the gun and tears streamed down his face as the host urged him on. After a minute of Tommy sitting there bawling as hard as he could, the stagehands moved in to pull the gun away and turn it over to Jamie when Tommy suddenly put it up to his head, pulled the trigger and slumped down next to the rest of his family. The final screen lit up, showing Jamie as his brother fell out of his chair. His eyes glassy, the nearby stagehands reached for Jamie and lifted him up as the camera panned out to show the rest of the set. The screens winked off as the host consoled, “Shame that the missing bullet had to be in the last chamber, but that's the risk you run when you play, 'Five Shots!'”
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Mar 9, 2014 20:46
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I'm in.
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Mar 10, 2014 22:27
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"Rematch" 973 Words "It all started when that robot tried to summon the forces of darkness," Frank said. The peace officer leaned in, "you don't really think that we're going to believe that some dumb robot started this whole mess do you?" he asked. Frank shrugged and leaned back in his chair, the legs creaking. The peace officer sighed and slammed his palm on the table. "Let's just start over again, from the beginning." ---- Frank yelled. He still couldn't believe that that his favorite death metal band, Choking Crucifix, was in town. He was jostled by something as it rolled past. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it was a robot. “It's probably on the way to get its master a drink,” he thought. He turned back to his favorite band and kept slamming his head. –-- The pentagram done, the robot threw the severed hand over its shoulder. It landed with a solid thump about twenty feet back. It laid down the piece of paper it had drawn on. "This unit summons you," TL-2018 said. It's voice modulator, like all TL models, was not terribly advanced. It carried no hint of emotion, the cadence was perfectly spaced according to the robot's clock. It didn't even have the ability carry any inflection. "Ulm-Lah Chi Ka Thul-Chi Nul Nel-Cha-Lee," it droned. The darkness spread from the shadows. It creeped closer and closer despite the full moon as the robot finished it's a-melodic chanting. All at once it was as if a dark sheet was thrown over all the entire venue. People stopped dancing and looked around in panic trying to figure out why it was suddenly as black as newly formed obsidian. The pentagram began glowing a deep crimson as something rose from its center. The being spoke, "Oh darlin' you best have a drat good reason for summoning me." The specter’s gloved hand, now fully formed, flexed in the air, then darted out to the robot, grabbing it by its scrawny neck; it passed right through. “Darlin' I've been asleep for god knows how long, and you're bringing me back now?" it said. TL-2018 pulled out the last item from its backpack and opened the National Wrestling Empire's compendium. It flipped open the book to Pain Train's entry and held it up. It said, “I command you to kill all humans.” Pain Train looked troubled for a moment but a mask of determination drew over it. It reached out for the nearest person's neck. The little robot dropped the book and retreated to find a hill to get a better view. –-- The crowd was in a panic. Piles of bodies had already accumulated around the now dark red pentagram. Frank, who'd been nearby when the whole mess had started was cowering behind a rather large corpse of a man in his 40's. He peaked out over the mound of flesh and saw the dropped book. Frank dashed ahead while the monster was crushing people on the other side of the concert hall. He picked up the still-open book. The wind had flipped the pages to show the “Grand Slam Pachinko.” Surprisingly, there were words written in red at the bottom, “Lta-chu-fil-ka-hre hre kna da.” Frank, in a panic repeated the words and slammed his palm on the bloody paper next to him. The dark red symbols lit up and a whirlpool of darkness opened to reveal yet another wrestler. A decrepid looking old man appeared out of that vortex. He stroked his long white mustache as he came to a stop and looked around with a slight frown on his face until he saw Pain Train crushing a twenty-something raver over his knee about thirty feet away. His eyes lit up. “Pain Train,” the wizened man said, his voice booming over the sound of people screaming nearby, “you and me have unfinished business.” Pain Train turned, the glassy eyed look vanishing only to be replaced with a blazing hatred as he dropped the corpse and charged his former mentor. Frank, terrified and confused as to who these people even were, ran back behind his hiding place. Grand Slam Pachinko bent slightly as his former apprentice approached and turned his considerable weight against him, flipping him head over heals. The beefy man slammed into the barricades and slid to a halt. Being tossed around like a coin did little for his mood as he jumped up and ran at his master again. This time he anticipated his attempted flip and grabbed the old man by the arm. The Grand Slam Pachinko in a flurry of motion punched at the his apprentice's neck, stunning him. He wrenched his arm free and gave the man a kick which knocked him back several steps, right on top of the pentagram. Pain Train screamed in pain as monstrous claws grabbed at his legs and feet dragging him back down into the underworld. His fiery eyes glared at Grand Slam Pachinko as he was drawn below that undulating black and red mass. Frank stood up from behind the mound of bodies he was hiding behind as Grand Slam Pachinko closed his eyes and dissipated into a cloud of mist. Nearby, people who were still alive peaked out of their hiding spots and began searching for their family and friends. Frank looked around and saw the robot chugging away toward the exit to the arena. He sprinted to it and rammed into its side with his shoulder toppling it over. The cold eyes of the robot turned toward him and it reached out with its skeletal arm to crush his neck. Frank pulled the battery from its housing underneath the robot and its arm fell limply to the ground. Frank fell to his knees as he heard sirens approaching in the distance as blackness closed in on him.
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Mar 17, 2014 00:04
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Bad Seafood posted:INTERPROMPT Buzz Buzz Buzzˋ (199 words) Terry's stream of bees ran into the wall, creating a thin paste of bee parts on the concrete. "Very good, Terry," the instructor said, "now it's time to work on levitating things" Terry had been ecstatic when he found out he had magical potential. He thought he was going to be some sort of Harry Potter. Unfortunately, the fact about magic that never made it into popular culture is that the only force witches and wizards can control is bees. No fire or lightning, unless you count dousing your bees in gasoline and sending them into a torch. Terry's stream of bees congregated under the rock and beat their wings with all their might, lifting the fist-sized stone about two feet into the air. "Excellent." the instructor said. The bees raised their burden higher and higher until it was directly over Terry's head. They parted and dropped the stone onto his upturned face knocking him out. "Goddamn bees have gone rogue again," the instructor shouted as he sprayed them with RAID. Of course the other thing they never tell you is that the only bees that can be effectively controlled are killer bees, which hate humans with a passion.
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Mar 17, 2014 20:02
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I'm in.
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Mar 18, 2014 14:17
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Oregon Trail (881 words) To: Annie@tendernet.com From: John@joannscarpenters.net The children are doing well today. We set off early with the wagon train and are expecting to make excellent progress today. The hunting has been excellent so far, but we have only made it so far as Chimney Rock. I hear from the townsfolk we pass that as many people head back as head west, but I've yet to see anyone heading our way. --- To: John@joannscarpenters.net From: Annie@tendernet.com It warms my heart that you are doing so well. I the blanket I made for Jacob is suiting him well. He always was so cold, and I worry so about his health. Jenny is getting along well with the other children I hope. She was so heartbroken when she had to leave her friends back here and I do hope she's found someone to play without there. My mother has not recovered as of yet, so I cannot join you. However the physician says that her prognosis is good and she can expect a full recovery within the month. I shall endeavor to meet up with you as soon I can be certain that she is in good hands. Annie --- To: Annie@tendernet.com From: John@joannscarpenters.net The children have been getting along with the other children in the caravan. Jenny especially has been getting on with Timmy, who's parents I've met. They seem to be a queer sort, always afraid of the beauty of the outside. However, Timmy doesn't share their timidity. Jacob has been out all day. I am expecting him back any hour now for supper. I had a wagon axle to mend and he was ever so eager to help out with a hunting party, so I let him go with some of the men. I am glad to hear your mother is doing well. She was ever so fond of you, and I do hope she recovers post-haste so you can join us. John --- To: Annie@tendernet.com From: John@joannscarpenters.net I am sending you this email so quickly after the last because I have heard back about Jacob. It seems he was gored by a buffalo in the leg whilst out on the hunt with the party. I am with him now, the wound doesn't seem too serious, however I am watching it closely. I would not worry too much, I expect he should be up and about within a few weeks, but until then he should be able to ride in our wagon. John --- To: John@joannscarpenters.net From: Annie@tendernet.com John, my dear, I just received your message as I returned from tending to my mother. Is Jacob alright? I know I was right to worry about his welfare. He is always so rambunctious. I am hopeful that he will recover soon however. Please keep me informed. --- To: Annie@tendernet.com From: John@joannscarpenters.net Dearest Annie, I have more ill news. While Jacob was sleeping one of the oxen from the wagon behind us broke off of his harness and stampeded forward smashing into our wagon. The damage was too not repairable and I am having to carry Jacob. I fear that I will not have the strength to carry him the whole way to Oregon. Nevertheless, we have made excellent progress. We recently passed Soda Springs. Jenny really enjoyed the opportunity to play in the bubbly waters and Jacob took the opportunity to rest his leg in there as well. He says he's feeling much better and expects to be able to walk on his own in a few days. --- To: Annie@tendernet.com From: John@joannscarpenters.net Ill news my dearest. Jenny was stricken after eating some berries and Jacob's leg has flared up again. It looks to be a case of the rot. We just passed Fort Hall and shan't expect to see any medical supplies for several weeks until we encounter Fort Boise. The doctor of the caravan says that he may have to remove the leg for Jacob if it does not clear up in a day. Jenny hasn't woken since she ate the berries, but my Timmy's parents have been so generous as to let her rest in their wagon until she recovers. –- To: John@joannscarpenters.net From: Annie@tendernet.com John, I spoke with my mother's doctor as soon as I heard about Jacob. He says that there are many herbs on the trail that could be of use. Have you found any? --- To: Annie@tendernet.com From: John@joannscarpenters.net Dearest, our doctor was killed in an indian raid. Jacob has gotten worse and I will have to remove his leg to save him. I worry for his future without both legs, but I pray that he shall survive this. In positive news Jenny awoke from her slumber. She seemed delirious at first but has recovered. --- To: John@joannscarpenters.net From: Annie@tendernet.com My mother's doctor says she has improved enough to live alone again. I am joining the first wagon train out to you and shall endeavor to meet up as soon as practicable. --- To: Annie@tendernet.com From: John@joannscarpenters.net Annie, the surgery for Jacob was a success. The rot is gone, but so is his leg. We finally reached Fort Boise, but I do not believe Jacob has it in him to continue the journey. We will settle here and await your arrival. John
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Mar 24, 2014 05:49
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Nevermind
Nitrousoxide fucked around with this message at 18:48 on Mar 25, 2014 |
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Mar 25, 2014 18:43
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I'm in.
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Mar 26, 2014 00:30
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A Garden to Forget (876 Words) Zachariah cursed and tossed the Buddleia bush into the bag. This was his tenth attempt at making a garden and it had turned out just like all the rest, filled with blackened and rotting garbage. “You know, you don't have to keep trying,” Jan said, “I'm sure she would have understood.” “I know,” Zach said “but every day I feel like I'm forgetting her more and more. One day I'm not even going to remember her face.” “I know you’re worried about your condition, but the doctor said you have years before it becomes an issue. They might even have a cure or treatment for it by then.” Jan said. Zach shook his head and looked toward the waste bin and a darkness drew over his eyes, but like an eclipse it was gone in a moment. “Come on, why don't you show me some shapes, they always make you feel better.” Jan said. Nodding, he picked up the pair of scissors he always kept nearby and turned them over in his hand. Small nicks all over the metal and little spots of rust here and there that betrayed the tools age. Sighing, he picked up the nearby construction paper and started cutting patterns into it. Despite the tools appearance it cut cleanly through the paper, neither catching, nor tearing the thick eggshell colored parchment. He cut the shape of West Virginia into the paper and finished with a stroke. “Where did you learn to cut like that anyway?” asked Jan. “Forty years of teaching elementary school kids earns you some skills.” Zach said. The two of them stared into their hands for a bit as Zach continued to cut away at his paper when finally Jan climbed to her feet. “I need to pick up Karen, she’ll be out of school soon.” Zach looked up from the flower he was cutting and smiled a sad smile and said, “I know, let her know that I can’t wait to see her at my birthday next week.” Jan nodded and headed out the door closing it quietly behind her. Zach looked back at the half-finished paper flower in his hand and leaned back in his chair. His eyes grew heavy and finally closed as he drifted off to sleep. *** He looked out to the back yard through his study window toward the garden his wife had never gotten a chance to finish. She was out back working, her red curly hair moving with the breeze. The Hydrangeas she had planted earlier in the year had finally started to bloom and the rose bushes next to the stone bench and finally flowered. Nora shaded her eyes and looked back into the house, seeing Zach gazing out toward her. She waved to him motioning for him to step out for a moment. Zach was suddenly at the open back door. He took a step toward her, but the garden retreated. Another step and the garden got even further away. He broke into a run but the garden kept getting further and further away, falling into blackness until finally it was just a pinpoint of light in the distance. *** Zach woke up with a shout, standing up and spilling the papers onto the floor around him. He looked down to see all manners of shapes mixed in with the soil and ruined plants around him. He sighed and bent to pick them up when he saw the flower he had been working on last mixed in some soil. He picked it up, staring at it for a moment, then placed it in one of the soil-filled pots nearby. He reached for his scissors. *** Karen skipped up the cobblestone pathway to her gandpapa’s house with the energy only an eight year old girl can show. She carried a present obviously wrapped herself and covered in stick-on bows all around the sides. Beside her, Jan walked with another bottle-shaped present in her hand as they reached the doorway. Karen punched the doorbell several times before Jan could shush her. Grandpapa Zachy threw open the door and opened his arms wide catching Karen up in them as she ran to him. He scooped her up into the air and smiled at his granddaughter, motioning for them both to come in with his head. Karen squealed as they reached the family room to see it filled with potted plants of all colors and shapes. Covering the fireplace was a Virginia creeper, it’s narrow leaves jutting out left and right from the stalks at all intervals. Around the chairs were sunflowers, nearly twice as tall as Karen, and as bright as a freshly polished pocket watch. Zach pointed toward one of the smaller flowers with his free hand, and Jan picked it up. In the center was a wooden dowel but surrounding it were deftly cut patterns all over. Zach sat down and plopped Karen on his knee bouncing her up and down and took her present from her. For a moment he glanced up above the fireplace, to the mantle toward the picture of a woman with red curly hair. The paper Bee Balms surrounded her photo beamed along with her. Zach hugged his granddaughter and shouted, “Who wants some cake!”
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Mar 31, 2014 04:43
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In. Flash me please.
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Apr 1, 2014 22:06
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Starter Wiggin posted:The Sean asked for a crit so here it is: Could you do one on mine?
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Apr 4, 2014 21:23
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Thanks for the crits on my stuff from last week.
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Apr 5, 2014 18:01
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I'm gonna be late. I was expecting it to be at midnight. I should have it by then.
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Apr 7, 2014 02:57
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"Payment" 1000 Words Flash rule: Must contain violence but no death "Oh my God I hate this job," Chuck said. He set down the pizza delivery bag and wiped the film of water from his face. He hated delivering to people in the pouring rain, but at least people seemed to tip better when the weather was poo poo. Chuck rang the doorbell and pulled out his phone. He flipped through the texts from his girlfriend. She had sent, "gonna be late, got another gunshot wound in the ER." She was having a poo poo day too, but at least she was dry. He tapped back a quick reply "Okay, I should be getting off in an hour, I'll stop by and pick you up on my way home." The person who'd ordered the pizza finally opened the door. After a quick exchange, with no tip of course, Chuck was off running back to his car with the pizza bag over his head to block at least some of the rain. "loving assholes," he cursed. He flipped open the glove compartment and fingered the glock he had stored in there, the spare silver bullets rattled along with the gun. For a moment he considered pulling it out and marching up to that door to deal with the customer. With a start he realized what he was considering and slammed the glove compartment closed. Trembling he started the car and pulled out on to the street. Chuck booked it back to the store, as he approached a stop sign at the corner a dark figure darted out from the side of the road, running directly in front of his headlights. Chuck hit the breaks but the car slid right into the dark, whatever it was, with a sickening crunch. The airbag deployed as the car slid to the side of the road and lodged itself into the ditch. "gently caress," Chuck said. Kicking open the door he ran over to the body on the ground. As he approached he could see large protrusions from its back, but he ignored those as he dashed to the front of the person to see if they were okay. Eyes fluttered open just as he kneeled down, eyes that shone with a light all their own. The being stood up and picked Chuck up by the neck with one hand. Its protrusions, grew, or rather, unfolded to reveal wings easily ten feet wide. It dropped him as the being checked itself over. Chuck stood up gasping and clutched at his throat as he backed away. “You there, human,” the being said in a deep tone, “where are we?” “Toronto,” Chuck said in a wavering voice. “Very good,” the creature said and grabbed Chuck’s arm. He asked, “What are you doing?” “I am here to help,” the being said. “Woah, woah, woah there bub, I’m not just going to run off with you, I don’t even know who you are,” Chuck said wrenching his arm free. The being cocked its head then nodded and said, “That is a fair concern to have. My name is Zadkiel. I am the patron angel of mercy.” “Wait, you’re an angel?” Chuck asked and glanced back toward his car in the ditch. He noticed now that the rain had stopped in a circle around the two of them. “What the hell do you want with me?” Chuck asked. “You are on a dark path Chuck. You let your anger get the better of you all too often,” Zadkiel said, “God has a plan for you, but you need to let go of your hatred.” Chuck crossed his arms. “Listen man, angel or not, I don’t have to deal with your poo poo. I’m already dealing with enough crap as it is without you too. You already hosed up my car.” “Did I?” Zadkiel said and pointed toward the road behind Chuck. Chuck turned to see his car out of the ditch and back on the road without a scratch on it. Well, at least no new scratches. “You can’t deal with being snubbed. I know that back there at your last delivery you nearly shot the man for not giving you a tip.” Zadkiel said. Chuck turned back to the angel. His eyes smouldered with a deep resentment. Chuck thought back to all the times he’d delivered to people and the utter disgust he had experienced each time. He stalked back to his car and retrieved the gun out of its hiding spot. “Give it to me Chuck,” Zadkiel said. “God loves you, and knows what’s best for you.” Chuck turned the gun around in his hand a few times. “You’re right, I do have an anger problem,” he said. He spun the gun around and shot the angel in the knees. Zadkiel stumbled to the ground looking up at Chuck in shock. “But I’m not your god’s plaything,” Chuck said with a sneer on his lips. He tossed the gun to Zadkiel and it skidded to a stop right in front of him. “Why?” Zadkiel asked, “I’ll heal in a few seconds anyway.” “Because a few seconds is all they need,” Chuck said snapping his fingers. Shadows emerged from the trunk of Chuck’s car swarming around the angel. He struggled to get to his feet but collapsed as his legs had not healed enough to support his weight. Within seconds a spinning black sphere completely surrounded him and contracted into nothingness leaving behind a faint scream. A pair of cool red eyes appeared in the darkness on the opposite side of the car. “Your end of the bargain have been fulfilled, you will find your payment in your car,” it whispered. Chuck peaked through one of his windows and saw a hefty duffle bag on the passenger seat. He nodded and tipped his hat to the eyes in the darkness. Unpinning his nametag and pulling off his uniform’s jacket, he shoved them in the back seat of his car and drove off to pick up his girlfriend. “gently caress that job man. gently caress delivering pizzas.”
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Apr 7, 2014 04:51
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A Tin Of Beans posted:Forgive me, Thunderdome, for I have sinned. Me please.
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Apr 8, 2014 01:47
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A Tin Of Beans posted:The biggest question I have about literally everything in your story is "why." World's angriest pizza delivery driver thinks about shooting a guy, freaks out and trembles upon realizing what a dark act he was considering, then straight up MURDERS ONE OF GOD'S ANGELS. Why the hell was he worried about shooting some dude if he's going to straight up murder an angel for cash? I assume it's cash. Is it cash in the bag? Was he especially hard up for money? Thanks for this. My characters are a lot more proactive now, but the "why" for their actions needs to be fleshed out. I'll make sure to work on that for the next story. Also, comma usage.
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Apr 9, 2014 18:51
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I'm in.
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May 16, 2014 13:12
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Always Bet on a Lady's Luck 993 Words The battered Lady's Luck listed dangerously to the side as at least one of her engines spewed smoke. All the life pods had already been dropped onto whatever lay below the cloud layer below, leaving only the skeleton crew behind to try and evade the pirates aboard the Osprey. She had pulled along side the wounded pleasure liner and was disgorging her boarding party. “Toad, you check the galley, I don't one piece of silverware left behind when she goes down,” said the gaunt officer “Yes sir! Muledy Sir!” The squat little man ran off to the kitchen to rummage through the useless crap. Muledy turned to the rest of his squad and said, “The rest of you have a more important job, There's a safe in the Captain's quarters that you are going to grab. I don't care what you have to do but get me what he has hidden in there or I'll leave you behind with this heap of junk.” The men nodded and ran off toward the front of ship and the officer sighed as he strolled toward the captured prisoners near the gangplank connecting the two vessels. “You folks gave me a lot more trouble than I'd hoped. Now why don't you make it easier on yourself and just give me that combination to your safe.” A crewmen, a cook Muledy guessed, spoke up, “Sir, I ain't got nothin' to do with this sir, just let me go please.” Muledy strode up the cook and kneeled down in front of him. “You don't have anything to worry about, if you captain just gives up the combination to that safe.” Standing up, Muledy looked at the captain in his gaudy overdressed outfit. Despite the rarity, he had managed to scrounge enough fabric or die together to make a pure purple dress uniform, hat and all. “Well, what will it be?” The captain spit in Muledy's face and said, “You pirates can go beg your gods, you'll never get in that safe.” Standing up and wiping the spit off his face he grabbed the cook and hoisted him up. As he walked him over to the edge of the ship the cook struggled and nearly pulled away but Muledy called for a couple of his own crewmen nearby to hold him in place. Muledy turned back to the captain again. “Is this is really what you want?” he asked. The captain regarded Muledy with a stare that would have turned a lesser man to stone, but didn't say anything. “Alright then,” he said and kicked the cook over the edge. Muledy looked after him and saw him tumble into the clouds below. “He's going to have a long time to thank you for your caring attitude there captain. I'll give you some more time to think about it, but when I come back you'd better be ready to talk.” He strode off to see how progress was going in the captain's quarters. *** Things were not going according to plan. Not only was the captain keeping his mouth shut, despite knocking a couple more of his crewmen over the edge, but the progress on the safe was going slowly, to put it generously. “You've been at this for two hours and you still don't have it open!” Muledy shouted at the groveling crewman near the captain's bed. “Cap'n we're almost there but the safe has three dif'nt layers we've had to cut through, it's like a safe in a safe in a safe.” Muledy looked over to it, the two previous doors were already cut through and open, and the final door was nearly done. Just then, an explosion boomed from the back of the skyship and the Lady's Luck listed even further to port. “Godsdamnit,” Muledy said. A runner dashed in from outside and said, “Cap'n the port engine gone out completely, She's goin' down. We need to get back to the Osprey before it's too late!” The rest of his crew dropped whatever tools they were working with and ran out the hatch, leaving Muledy alone in there with the safe. He cursed and grabbed the torch, lit it and worked with a feverish urgency that only comes when a man is facing death. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Muledy finished the final cut and the door swung free from the force of gravity and the tilt of the ship. He reached inside pulling out a gold bar, and tossed it aside, then found what he was looking for. He palmed the small vial of quicksilver-like liquid and rushed out the hatch and sprinted for the gangplank back to the Osprey. As he rounded the corner he saw the Osprey was moving away from the Lady Luck to starboard and downward. She was already almost into the clouds. Still though, it was close enough the ship for a well timed throw to reach it he thought... Muledy screamed at the top of his lungs, “You godsdamn loving shits. If you're going to leave me take this!” The crew on the deck looked up just in time to see him throw the silver vial over the edge into the abyss. It tumbled end over end right toward and empty spot in the deck when Toad leaped to catch it at the last moment. Muledy fell to the deck as the Osprey slipped below the clouds and the Lady's Luck continued to tilt further. *** Toad sat down on the end bed in Muledy's cabin and patted the occupant on the leg. Muledy's son Saltar, still ashen pale as ever didn't stir of course. No one with the blight stirred once they started showing it unless they got treatment. Toad handed the silver vial to the ship's surgeon who used it to fill up a syringe and inject Saltar. After a few moments Saltar stirred a bit and mumbled “Daddy, I want to go outside and play...”
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May 19, 2014 05:05
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